Harry Styles Short Stories

You're Losing Me

Harry and I sat in the sunroom of our home. Each of us were sitting at each end of the couch. My feet were extended into Harry's lap. We silently drank our morning coffee.

"Do you want to do something for your birthday?" I asked him. "The big 30 this year," I joked.

"Mmm, just wanna be here with you," he hummed, not even glancing in my direction.

"You don't want to go out or anything? I could make reservations somewhere," I tried to encourage him.

"No, too many people will see," he shut down my idea.

"Harry! You keep us locked up in this house like we're prisoners," I whined, moving my feet from his lap. "It won't kill us if there's a few pictures circulating the internet of us walking into a restaurant on your birthday. Believe or not it's normal for couples! Are we not a normal couple? I thought this was all about normalcy?" I argued. I stood up from the couch with a sudden burst of anger.

"I don't understand," Harry spoke very calmly yet confused.

"I know you don't," I huffed and turned to leave the room. I headed into the kitchen choosing to stand with my palms against the counter and hung my head.

Harry entered the kitchen behind me. He placed his mug in the dishwasher before walking behind me to run a hand across my back.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled. "It's your birthday, if you want to make something here that's fine," I added. Harry's hands found my hips and turned my body to face him.
"There she is," he cooed, running his thumb across my cheek.

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February 1st rolled around and I had planned a surprise party with Harry's closest friends and family. The second we walked into the house and our guest yelled "Surprise!" Harry was detached from my side, not so much sparing a glance in my direction.

Thats how I wound up here. In the corner of our living room, with a beer in my hand. I quietly watched as people engaged in conversation around me. I desperately wished Harry would parade me around the party as his arm candy. With that thought, I finished the last little bit of my beer. Tossing the bottle in the trash, I headed upstairs to Harry and I's bedroom.

I changed into my pajamas and sat in bed. In the darkness of the bedroom I couldn't help but let my anxious thoughts consume me. Thoughts that Harry and I's love was dying. Sat there in the dark I had to wonder if our relationship had run its course. At this point, it would take a lot of work to get our relationship back to being happy and healthy. We had dated for nearly 10 years. How could I throw away something so constant and comfortable ? Was he getting tired of me? I had thrown this party for him and he didn't even say thank you or speak to me the entire time. He used to treat me like I was the best thing at every party.

When Harry came to bed early that morning, I was still awake. He slid in bed next to me, our backs facing eachother. It was small, the lack of touch or acknowledgement but it hurt.

I didn't sleep much. I tossed and turned and bit my nails down to practically nothing. I trudged out of bed to find Harry already in the kitchen. I went about making my morning cup of coffee. Still he didn't acknowledge the party or speak to me at all. It may have been petty, but it felt like the final straw. I ate my breakfast alone, zoned out at the dining table.

I was snapped out of my trance by a hand on my shoulder. "I'm going on a run. Love you," Harry said, leaning down to place a kiss to the top of my head. Love you. It echoed in my head. Thoughts of if he truly meant his words or if I still reciprocated the feeling as I should wracked my brain.

When Harry returned from his run, I was sat in the sunroom. I was turned on the sofa so my chin rested on the top of the backrests as I stared out the window.

"You alright?" he asked, just now noticing my silence. I shook my head. I could feel the tears welling up and my throat closing already.

"My feelings are hurt," I said.

"Did I do something?" he asked.

"I guess I'm just feeling under appreciated," I explained. "I organized this whole party for you last night and you don't talk to me once. You didn't even say thank you," I cried softly.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to spend time with my friends," he argued.

"I would've talked to them with you," I sighed. "But instead I stood there all alone," I added, more tears falling down my face.

"I didn't know we had to be attached at the hip all the time. It's not like you couldn't have found people to talk to," he responded.

"Stop Harry! Please stop!" I cried. "Stop saying what you're saying."

"What do you want me to say?" he retorted.

"I don't know. Thank you. I appreciate you. I had fun," I listed off examples. He let out a deep sigh but said nothing, avoiding eye contact.

"Fuck! I know me being upset is so inconvenient for you," I yelled. I stood up from my sitting position. I stood there for a moment, breathing heavy. Watching, waiting for Harry to say something.

"Do something! Say something! Please," I begged through my tears. "You're losing me here, Harry," I choked out. I walked past him to head up to our bedroom.

I don't know why I expected him to follow me. He didn't. I didn't see him again until he crawled into bed next to me that night. I had made up my mind to leave in the morning.

When he woke that morning, I was packing my stuff into suitcases.

"What are you doing?" he asked in his sleep filled voice.

"Harry, I have to go," I whispered through tears.

"Go? Go where?" he questioned. I gave him a sad, knowing look. He was up and walking toward me.

"No, no you don't have to go," he spoke frantically.

"I do," I nodded.

"Why?" he cried.

"Why? Harry I've been fighting for us all by myself. I waited for you to fight for me yesterday and you didn't. I—I waited for you, just like I've waited for you for 10 years. Waited for you to ask me to marry you. Waited for you to not seem ashamed to be seen with me in public and I just can't do it anymore," I cried. "I'm tired of doing everything in my power to make you happy but you wouldn't do the same!" I picked up my bags and headed out the bedroom door. He stayed standing in the bedroom. He didn't know if 30 seconds or 30 minutes had passed.

When he snapped out of his daze, he was sprinting down the hallway. He called out my name, crying and frantically searching around for me. When he came to the conclusion that I was really gone, he sat at the bottom of the stairs and cried. He hugged his legs to his chest and sobbed.

You don't know what you've got until it's gone.
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You're Losing Me - Taylor Swift