Where Your Heart Is (A Harry Styles Fanfiction) #pfcc2k16 #Wattys2016

Chapter Thirty-FOUR: Frail Love.

Our lies are better than the truth. But I can't live it like I'm living.

*****

I don't know why I just said that. But if those were the first words I let out of my mouth at the sole sight of his face, then that must be the sign.

Because all day long I have been asking for it, praying for something that would let me know what to do next; which road to take.

I hate myself for feeling this way; for being the kind of girl who thinks she's not good enough or strong enough to deal with stuff like this. Or any other stuff, for that matter.

But I guess I am. At least when it comes to this. To him.

He just stays quiet and hugging me tight; and it kills me to know that he must be waiting for me to say something else or to do something else.

But I can't move, or speak. All I can seem too able to do is hold on to him for as long as I can. And now that I have apparently decided that I won't be holding on for much longer, I'm just making it worth our while.

"Lea..." He finally says, his lips pressing against my ear and his breath grazing my skin.

I tremble at the warm sensation it gives me, like my body is trying to reject how good it actually feels. The way he says my name, so full of despair, makes my stomach churn with guilt for feeling this way, and disappointment for not succeeding.

If I want to find the will to do this I need to let go. So I do. And slowly but surely, I unhook myself off of him.

"Please, don't..." I finally speak, mentally scolding myself for sounding so weak. "Don't say my name. Not like that."

His eyes are glowing but not in that cheerful way they always seem to glimmer. The soft light of the room dances in the green of his pupils because of the water accumulating on them. And there comes the guilt again.

"Like what?" He asks me, frowning in confusion. "Don't say your name like what?"

I can't stand to see him like this. So helpless and at the mercy of my words and actions. Words that will wound us beyond repair and actions that will translate into the final blow.

"Like you're about to tell me that I'm wrong."

I awkwardly manage my way out of the bed, walking towards the door. I don't intend to leave, just to put a little distance between us so his presence won't seem so powerful; so wrecking.

I turn around to look at him and he seems so baffled, he hasn't even made the attempt to stand up.

"I won't tell you that you are..." He says, still not looking at me but slowly shifting to his side. "Because that would mean I have a clue as to what you're saying."

His eyes finally land on mine, and I find myself whishing that they hadn't. The room might be half in shadows, but there is no hiding for the confusion swimming in there.

How can he not know what I'm talking about? Is he really that lost? Or is he simply playing dumb so I am force to say it out loud?

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Harry." I say, folding my arms in front of my chest and, once again, sounding a little too weak for my liking.

"No, I don't." He pushes, standing up in a jolt and striding towards me with determination. "What's going on, Lea?" He mentions my name carefully.

I frown, nervously changing the weight of my body from one leg to the other. Within half of a second, he is standing inches away from me, mirroring my posture.