Rain | Harry Styles

5.8

'we used to be sugar and now all i taste is bitter[...]it's beautiful until it hurts.'

(walk from here - lovelytheband)

-

A.

I left the bathroom after what felt like hours of contemplation and a long shower to clear my head. I was pretty sure Harry was asleep, as well as Liam, judging by the darkness and the silence throughout the flat.

I wanted to tell Harry what was going on more than anything - but it wasn't my secret to tell; it was Celia's. I couldn't do that to her - tell her son the one secret I'd promised not to. Not that I knew what was going on - the last I'd heard was that Celia would try and figure out the truth with Mason, and I had no clue what that had resulted in. I knew that her wedding day was tomorrow, and it was unlikely she'd manage to keep a secret with Harry around, only adding to her stress - so I'd kept him away. 

And now he was upset with me. And that hurt a lot. It didn't happen often: a fight that couldn't be sealed with a quick kiss and a small apology, but I knew he was really upset. I'd freaked out and got defensive with him, which had hurt him. I'd be angry, too.

I pushed open the bedroom door, the quiet sound of a song I didn't recognise bouncing off each wall and greeting my ears as I gently shut the door behind me. 

He lay on his side, facing me with his head pressed to the pillow - he wasn't asleep, I could tell instantly, but he didn't bother to open his eyes. I blew out a long breath between my lips, taking cautious steps towards the bed, and apprehensively hovering beside it, unsure of whether I should go any closer. 

Then he opened his arms, his eyes remaining shut as he welcomed me into them - a soft smile tugging on my lips in relief as I shuffled into his grip and he closed his arms around me. I buried my head into his chest, and his chin rested on the top of my head as he held me tightly, providing the comfort he always did.

"I'm not going to ask again," he whispered suddenly against my hair, causing me to take my lip into my mouth, "but please don't lie to me again. Please," he almost begged me, his voice barely audible before he added, "I don't know if I can handle it."

I nodded, desperately wishing I could just open my mouth and tell him the truth. But I couldn't. That was the one thing I couldn't bring myself to do, as I pressed a single kiss to his throat, and allowed my eyes to close.

The one thing I hated most, I decided, was keeping things from Harry. I would always share everything with him - from my deepest, darkest feelings to my petty opinions on last night's 'Drag Race', as we argued over who we wanted to win. And I didn't share it all because I had to, or because he forced me to - it was because I wanted to. H was that person in my life who I could trust with anything and everything. And yet here we lay, only centimetres between us but a thousand miles away in our own minds. 

The next morning I woke up to empty space beside me, but I wasn't surprised in the slightest. I hadn't expected Harry to stay and discuss last night's events, but I could only hope he was still here and that he hadn't left.

I was thankful when the bedroom door opened and Harry stepped inside, a towel hung low around his waist and his damp curls framing his face, clearly fresh out of the shower. He shot me a small smile as he wandered across the room to dump his dirty clothes in the laundry hamper, the muscles in his back flexing as he did so. He then turned back to face me, the black-inked butterfly on his torso capturing my attention as it always did, before I brought my eyes back to meet his, slightly anxious of how he was feeling this morning about the night before.