Heartbeat

Beautiful Kind Of Broken; Drive

Song of the chapter-


Cry by Mandy Moore (suggested in comments) (:



Harry-



When I finally came inside from the cold, Niall was in his room again and the apartment was silent. I took off my shoes slowly, my eyes and limbs heavy with slumber.

I found her just as I knew I would, laid in the middle of my bed with the blankets surrounding her as she hugged her legs to her chest, fast asleep. I looked at her for a few long seconds as I stood in the doorway, tiredly shutting the door. When I walk to my side of the bed her back is now to me, my eyes on her as I take my sweater off. I pull back the covers softly and settle onto my side of the bed, my body turning away from hers as I try and force myself to sleep. But I couldn't, because I could feel her warmth beside me, her soft skin usually being underneath my fingertips when I drift off. I found myself turning around, my body curving around hers in an effortless way, arm winding around her still-tensed body.

I feel her move, thinking I'd woken her. But if she did awake, she didn't say a word or move another inch. She just let me hold her.


****

When I woke up in the morning, my head was rested on her chest, my body sprawled almost halfway on top of her as she slept, her hand resting on my bare back. The sheets are in a mess around us, the blanket that I must've pulled towards me in my sleep revealing one of her legs. My eyes catch sight of the few cuts I could see from here and I close my eyes, taking in a deep breath. As I sat up, detaching myself from her, I remembered the way I would usually want to stay in bed with her when I woke up, even if she was asleep or not. Because I liked laying with her, I liked to watch her as she slept because she looked peaceful and beautiful. But right now, only memories from last night flood into my mind when I look at her.

I look outside my opened widow as I sit at the edge of my bed, rain already falling. By how cold it looks, I'm guessing it might snow. After looking outside for a while I lean over to my nightstand drawer, pulling out the journal Alex had given me. Because maybe if I read it once again, my harsh mood will melt away.

Dear Harry,

I know that you have no clue why I don't speak, and I know it must be a constant thought in your mind, which I don't blame you for. Even though I know that you don't care that I don't speak aloud, I saw how happy you were when I'd said your name. It made me happy, too. For your name to be the first thing I've said in six years is what made it worth speaking. Now I want to tell you why I don't talk. When I was twelve I was in a car crash with my mom and sister. I've never had a dad, so don't count on hearing about him. But my mom and sister died in that car crash, I was the survivor.

I thought I didn't deserve to live if they didn't, I was too weak, too sad, and too shocked to really process any words for a while after that. I was put in an orphanage and it became a habit to not speak after a while. I didn't think anybody would even care what I had to say, because I didn't think they would be able to even process or understand the burning sadness I was feeling. All the families that adopted me didn't want me after a short period of time, which was a total of two families. So I was put back in the orphanage, but once I turned eighteen I left for good.

I left, got a job, and an apartment. And then I got you. I was alone before you, I had nobody, literally no one. It was a blessing to meet you and all your friends which are now my friends too. I began to realize that you cared, which was a weird feeling for me. I know you can't understand what I went through because you've never been through it, but I know you'll listen. I know you'll listen to me if I ramble on about careless things that don't really matter, because that's just the kind of person you are. I know that you'll sit here and read this letter with a big open heart, because again, that's just the kind of person that you are.

You care, you listen, you get me when I think no one else can, you make me get silly butterflies in my stomach whenever you look at me. You make me happy Harry, you make me feel mushy inside every second of every single day, and I don't care how corny that sounds because its true. So that's all the things that I'm sure of, and I'm also sure that I love you. Everything you do makes me love you.

Love, Alex

I don't know how many times I read over her written words that reminded of just how much she loves me, but it didn't help me forget anything. When I'm about to shut the journal, I flip to the next page instead, the page with my writing on it. I haven't even finished writing what I want to in here, but now I'm not even sure what I want to write in here. It's crazy that I love this girl so much, that I'm angry at her for harming herself, and it's insane that it hurts me too.

I stand up quietly after setting the journal on my nightstand, getting into my dresser drawer to put on a t-shirt, checking my phone to see it is already 11:00, sleeping in due to our long night last night. I have a text from Louis telling me that he should be home tonight, spending a little more time with Eleanor than he had planned. Niall had probably already left to see Brianna. Today is Sunday, and I'm not looking forward to work tomorrow.

I found myself thinking of the most randomnest things just to keep my mind off what it keeps wanting to trail off to as I made my coffee in the kitchen. The apartment is quiet, and it didn't help with me trying to keep my mind off of things. My hips meet the counter as I stir my coffee, taking a drink of it after.



Alex-



Feeling him let go of me when I woke up made my stomach go into knots. He usually stays with me, cuddling with me until we both felt like getting out of bed. But right when he woke up he left, and I didn't let him know I was awake because I didn't want him to see my teary eyes. I already look like an object of weakness to him, and he doesn't need to see me cry again. But once I hear his absence in the bedroom I turned onto my back in his bed, staring at the ceiling above me.

I turn my head to look out the window, catching sight of my journal on his nightstand. That's what he had been looking at, I heard the sound of turning pages but didn't dare to look, not risking getting caught being awake. I lift myself onto my elbows to retrieve it, sitting up and glancing to the door. I know he won't be coming back in any time soon, because he's upset with me. So I open the pages and glance over my writing, reading my letter to him and remembering that fun, beautiful day of his birthday.

I remember when I'd looked in this last time, and saw the entry of something he had begun to write in here. But it just said 'Dear Alex', but, this time as I turn the page, I see more of his writing covering the page then last time. I found myself wondering what he looks like as he writes in here instead of actually reading the words I stare at. Wondering if he writes in here while I'm sleeping like I had done with him, if he smiles while doing it like I had. If he bites on his bottom lip like he always seems to do when he concentrates. Or if he doesn't have to concentrate at all, because its easy as breathing to write his feelings to me.

I find myself shutting the journal without reading anything on the pages, remembering how he had been patient enough for me to be done without peeking. I get out of bed after placing the journal back on his nightstand, putting on my sweats that were discarded on his floor.

I found him in the kitchen, leant against the counter with his back facing me as he stirred his coffee. I remembered the time I had first spent the night here, and how I'd been sat on the counter where he is, his hips between my legs, just how he's standing now, but without me there. He lifts the cup to take a drink as I walk all the way through the door, my silence causing him not to notice my presence. My eyes scan over him as I reach him, still unknown by him until I find myself wrapping my arms around his waist from behind, my cheek pressing to his strong back as I hug him gently, but tight all at the same time.

His body tensed in surprise at my touch, but then relaxed, just as he always does when I touch him. He doesn't turn to talk to me or look at me, and he doesn't even say a word. But I didn't mind, because silence is something that we can be comfortable in together, even if we aren't at best terms. I hear him sigh, and hear the coffee mug being set down onto the countertop. And then, I feel his hands cover mine, his warmth sinking into my folded hands on his stomach.

"Go on a drive?" I whisper against his back, hoping he says yes.

Because his car is a place I love to be with him. There's memories, and I love the way he shakes his head and murmurs under his breath when it doesn't start, or when he tells me he hates it because it can't keep me warm because the heater is broke. But I love his car, for the reasons that he hates it.

"Yeah." He murmurs.

He turns around, making me release my hold on him. His jade eyes flick over my face and I was waiting for him to walk away to go get dressed without saying another word. I was right, because he didn't say anything. But instead he kissed my temple, leaving his plump lips on my skin before leaving me in the kitchen alone.



Harry-



It's an indescribable feeling, to feel her touch. And it's an even more undefinable feeling to explain when she speaks. To hear her voice is something of complete and utter beauty. But when she spoke to me in the kitchen, making my heartbeat raise in a second like it always does, her voice was broken and hurt. But in all the same, a beautiful kind of broken.

And it amazes me that even though I'm still upset and majorly disappointed in her, I craved to feel more of her touch when she wound her arms around me. And when I agreed to driving around town with her for just a drive, I didn't have to think twice about saying yes.

I took my time getting dressed and brushing my teeth, knowing Alex had probably gone to her own apartment to get ready since she hadn't came into my room at all. I changed into a long sleeve and a heavy jacket, a grey beanie covering my messy hair and boots covering my feet. I know that it will be freezing, and I find begin wondering if Alex will bundle up enough to keep herself warm as well.

And I knew that she had as I see her sitting on my living room couch waiting for me, a baby blue trench coat hugging her shoulders, white beanie and mittens covering her fingers and long, wavy hair. She always strikes me as something completely and utterly stunning. Lovely, really.

"You ready?" I murmur, her blue eyes flicking up to me from the couch.

It's then that I realized how her blue jacket made her ocean-blue eyes stand out brilliantly. She nods her head, dainty hands securing her bright white beanie on her head. I take her in all over again with my eyes, all the way from her beanie to her brown boots covering her feet. I grab my keys from the hook by the door and glance over my shoulder to make sure Alex is following me.

But I didn't have to worry, because I knew she'd always follow.




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