Matilda | Harry Styles

FORTY-ONE

The moment I stepped out into the hallway, I realised I had no idea where I was even going. I had nothing on me; no money, and no phone, but the last plausible option seemed to be going back to the apartment.

I was being so stupid, and I knew it. But I couldn't do this. I didn't know how to be confronted with emotion by somebody wanting a solution. The only emotional conversations I'd ever really had, were ones were somebody was trying to get their anger and rage out, and so all I had to do was sit there and take it; I didn't have to contribute, or offer a response. But he wanted one. He didn't want anger, or confrontation - he just wanted things to be okay.

As soon as I was walking down the hall, I regretted leaving. I knew I shouldn't have, and I knew I was only making things worse, but my head wouldn't have allowed me to stay.

Maybe I shouldn't have let things go this far.

Maybe I wasn't supposed to be with him. That had tortured me in the back of my head from the moment we'd decided to properly try things out. The reason I'd avoided how I felt for him for so long was because I didn't think I was able to be what he wanted, I didn't think I was capable of being with somebody, and I didn't want to ever give a part of myself away. I didn't want anybody to know me. I'd been conditioned by both others and myself, for so long to believe that I was worthy of so, so little. It was like no matter what he did; no matter how many times he showed me that he was different, it wasn't enough to break my wretched patterns.

This could never have just been casual - the pair of us knew that from day one, and I knew it was dangerous from the start; and that's when I should've backed out. If I was going to keep concealing so much of myself, and giving him these half-truths and shallow explanations for things, then I should've never entered a relationship with him. It was selfish, and it was cruel. I'd been so wrapped up in my own stupid self-loathing and my pathetic, desperate attempts at protecting myself, that I'd been harming him all along. Deep down, I'd known that all along, but I was too selfish to rectify it.

I wanted him. I wanted him so, so badly - more than I'd ever wanted anybody, or anything. Even away from this job, and this stupid, failed attempt at seizing control of my own life; it was him, that I wanted. More than wanted - I felt for him like I'd never felt for anything else in my entire life. I didn't have words, or the capacity to even attempt at describing it; it was like, when he was there, everything felt so light. He made it so easy to keep being selfish and suppressing everything I was struggling with, because he made me so happy. But equally, that made it so much harder to keep lying to him, because I was starting to realise that wasn't something you were supposed to do to people you care about. You weren't supposed to lie, or twist things, or give them only half of you. I'd never given anybody more than that, and it felt like an impossible task.

I wasn't even downstairs when I remembered that I couldn't even go outside. The row of paparazzi that had settled themselves outside earlier on would definitely still be waiting for a glimpse of Harry, and though I doubted they even knew who I was, I couldn't risk it - for him.

There was a tiny little cafe area that we'd passed every time we went to and from the apartment. It was a self-service coffee kiosk beside the stairwell, with nobody attending to it, and there were a couple of empty chairs that surrounded it - that was the only place I could think to go. It was quiet - everything felt so quiet, for this was the first time - really - since I'd been here, that I was by myself.

I sat down, not bothering to make a coffee. Maybe if I hadn't been stupid enough to drop it the first time.

For a moment, I contemplated calling Grace, before I remembered that I'd left my phone in the apartment. Even if I'd had it, I likely would've decided against it, eventually; all I would've wanted was for her to tell me what to do - to give me a script to follow, and solve things for me, but I knew that was wrong. I knew that was a pathetic way out, and I knew it wasn't fair. This was him and me, and I needed to start acting like it. If I wanted to stay with Harry, I needed to start treating him like somebody I cared about. I couldn't keep failing him.