Whatever Chains (Sequel to Where Your Heart is - A Harry Styles fanfiction)

Part Twenty-Four: All your friends.

April, 2016.

I recognize the hypocrisy of my ways, I really do.

Leaving like that, disappearing into thin air, and avoiding every single attempt she made to contact me.

You may think this is me being revengeful; giving her a spoonful of her own medicine. And maybe that is exactly what I'm doing. But right now,  whatever the reasons behind it, it is the only thing that I can come up with, and the only thing I can handle.

I miss her, of course I do. All the love I have for her can't be thrown out of the window just like that, no matter how easy that would make things for me.

I couldn't stopped loving her then, so I'm not about to try to do that now. However, the hurt is still there, throbbing inside of me like the first second.

"Harry, is that you?"

I look up, a little surprised to hear my name, and when I see her face I realize what a treacherous trick my subconscious has played on me.

For a few seconds I consider turning around and leave, but getting here without being notice was an enough stretch on my luck.

Her eyes are wide and filled with the same confusion I am sure is dwelling in mine, and I force myself to give her a smile, although a weak one at that.

"Hi, Olivia." I say, walking closer to the reception desk. "How you've been?"

She stares at me for a few moments before greeting me, and then the smile on her face falls flat all of a sudden.

"Nothing's changed, you know?" She leans against the counter, lowering her voice. "I don't know where she is. I haven't talked to her since..."

I shake my head, lifting up one hand to stop her.

I'm not surprised she thinks that is why I'm here; especially since I used to practically harass her into telling me where Lea was when she first left.

At least I'm not the only one who had been left in the dark, though.

"That's not why I'm here. I'm over that." I try to sound nonchalant about it, but I can notice the spite lacing my words. Not to mention, the lie. "I just need a room for the night."

Her brow furrows as she narrows her eyes, probably trying to read whatever lies behind what I've just said. But she then shrugs and takes the credit card from my hand, swiping it and then giving me the key to my room.

"I trust you'll feel right at home." She smirks when I look at the room number I got, and I know it wasn't random. "Holler if you need anything."

I nod and make my way to the elevator, politely refusing help to carry my luggage. After all, it is only one bag.

I'm just planning on staying one night, attend the meetings I have scheduled for tomorrow and then flying back to London right away.

Hopefully, and if I keep my profile lower than usual, I could be in and out of New York without anyone one knowing it.

Well, at least almost anyone.

*****

Two hours later and I am practically crawling out of my own skin.

Suddenly, roaming aimlessly in the streets, at the mercy of the paparazzi or any other curious eye I may run into seems better than being here.

This four walls have too much history, too much memories; and everywhere I look I see her.

The first time we kissed, the first time we made love, even the first time she left me.

I keep repeating that moment in my head, the moment I realized she was gone after that night she got stranded here with us; how she promised me she would be there in the morning and the she just wasn't.

How different things could have been if I'd just let it be and move on. If I could have simply accepted that stolen kiss as the only thing I would ever get from her.

Don't get me wrong, I don't regret a single thing that happened between us since then. But that does not mean I would have chosen going through this ache if I had the slightest inkling that this is where I would be a year later.

The whole 'I would do it all over again' speech is nothing but pure rubbish. It is not romantic or unapologetic. It only means that you haven't learned from your mistakes or the ones committed against you by someone else.

And if you don't, if you don't take those mistakes and try to mend them, or at least take them as a lesson to be learned, then what the hell is the point?

What is the point? Let me get back you on that one.

I take a shower, I pace around the room. I turn on the TV, then I pace around some more. I stare at my phone with her contact displayed on the screen, I am going to carve a ditch beneath my feet.

I am a wild beast in a cage. And before I know it, I am taking that stupid envelope I bet she never even noticed I stole from her out of my pocket, and getting ready to pay him a visit.

Why? I have no idea. But whatever idiotic thing I am about to do feels better than staying here, sharing this bloody bed with her ghost.

I open the door to go out and there he is, like another ripple from the past, with his fist up in the air like he was just about to knock.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm just in time to stop you from doing something very, very dumb?"

He walks in before I even let him know that he could, which I wasn't planning on doing in the first place.

Looking around the room, he turns around towards me, with a look on his face that tells me absolutely nothing.

"By all means, step right in." Needless to say, I am speaking sarcastically. And he is the kind of man who doesn't have any trouble picking up on such things.

"Thank you, Styles." He plays along with all the fake pleasantries. "Looking good... I like the hair, by the way." He points his finger at me, swirling it around.

I don't have to ask him how he knew that I was here. A small part of me was expecting him sooner or later, so I simply skip to the part where I ask the one question I don't have the answer to.

"What do you want, Jasper?"