Here We Stand [H.S]

101.*

Life, it's a funny old thing, isn't it?

The past week and a half alone had taught me that, not to mention how I was able to feel every single basic emotion known to man in a record number of days.

There are 27 of them, in case you were wondering.

It was so easy for me to sit in same spot at the hospital and hash out everything that was rolling inside my mind repeatedly; constantly over examining things that had gone epically fucking wrong between Harry and me.

It was also very easy for me to wish that things had ended differently between us for several reasons, but that was another thing altogether.

But the truth was, Harry now rested somewhere in between my void of love and hate, and that made me feel even more confused.

I loved him, irrevocably; but I also hated him with every fibre of my being right now.

Hate was such a strong word, but it was also a feeling... and as long as I felt something, I considered that to be a good thing as feeling nothing at all, well, that was unthinkable.

The truth was, I had no idea what to do or what my next move was where Harry was concerned- we had effectively "broken up" with what I had screamed at him before holy hell broke loose downstairs in the living room.

Things were pretty shaken up between us still, and the truth was I hadn't so much as even looked at Harry since Phoebe gave birth because she had become my main priority.

I had made a promise to stay with her and stand by her, and I wasn't breaking that promise for nobody- not even for Harry.

I could tell that he was itching to have it out with me, but that was the beauty of it- I had the power and the control, and I knew that it was killing him that I wasn't giving in.

I knew deep down that I was being a total nightmare, because what I had thrown back in his face regarding Alex wasn't exactly nice either, but, I was using the humiliation he bestowed onto me regarding Ryan and Sam, as my ammunition.

I was protecting myself with a cold, hard metal cage because everything I had been struggling with, like my depression, my anxiety, the emptiness and confusion, the rage and the anger concerning Ryan, Sam and Alex had all boiled down to this with him.

And yet, the second I saw my best friend be told that the next 72 hours were critical for her baby, none of that remotely mattered anymore.

I didn't care about what Harry did or what he hid from me, I didn't care about the arguing or the fighting.

I didn't care that my twin was somewhere on the other side of the planet waiting for me to question him about our family history.

I didn't care that my whole entire life had been a sham and that I had been lied to by my own grandmother and father for the ten years I had him for.

I didn't care about college or any of my assignments... all I cared about was for that little, tiny 1 pound, 11 ounce baby to pull through and to not give up.

That's all I ever really cared about.

I wasn't remotely religious, but I spent every waking moment I had praying for him to pull through.

Yes, him.

Callum James Payne (or CJ, as Louis affectionately nicknamed him) was born at the talented hands of Louis' mum Johannah in the middle of mine and Harry's living room floor.

I had to hand it to Liam, but I seriously don't know how he did it, because during the entire experience I was a fucking mess.

My tears literally fell down from my eyes as he encouraged Phoebe on, telling her to keep going and that everything was going to be okay- he was so incredibly strong for her, and his support towards her honestly blew my mind.

You'd have thought that would have been my job and he would have been the hormonal, emotional mess, but no... Liam had kept his shit together, something which I had completely failed to do.

My guess was that it was due to everything that had happened prior with Harry.

Liam only lost it when he first laid his eyes on his new-born son.

I'll never forget the look on their faces when the two of them first gazed at Callum, the fear and heartbreak displayed in them both as the realisation of how their baby looked dawned on them both.

His little head was so tiny, it would have barely fitted in the palm of my hand, that I was sure of.