How We Met: A Tinder Story (Larry Stylinson)✅

Ending (last chapter)

A/n: this will be the last chapter. I am so sorry. But like I said this is all real life. And well.... just read

Harry's POV

This past month has been the most tumultuous of my life. I was nearly fired from my job, had my schedule switched more times than I could count on one hand, lost almost all of my friends and felt lonelier than I ever have before.

None of those things excuse what I did. 

Ultimately, since I last saw Louis, I hit a low. I had a crisis - about my career, where I should live, where I should work. The future terrified me and I could never seem to get my anxiety to settle for more than a few minutes. 

My whole life, everything had been set in stone. Year after year after year, I always knew where I would be going: on to another year of school. And when school finally ended and I realized I had literally decades ahead of me with absolutely no plan in sight, I panicked. 

I panicked because I didn't have a five year plan. I panicked because it would be years before I was ready to settle down and start a family. I panicked because no matter how hard I tried, I never felt good enough. 

And Louis didn't help me. 

"They're so awful to me at work. They keep switching my classes and giving me shittier schedules," I complained, teary eyed, over the phone one afternoon after I had been demoted.

"Harry," Louis replied. "You need to man up and stop letting them push you around. You're being a pussy."

A pussy.

He called me a pussy. And it wasn't the first time either. 

Throughout a lot of our relationship, I always chose to focus on the positives and push down the not so great things that happened between us. Like the time he lied to me and made me stay with his unwelcoming family. Or the night he screamed at me in the club in front of all his friends until I broke down crying. Or the morning he stormed out of my house in a rampage because I woke him up earlier than he wanted. Or the countless instances he chose to play videogames instead of going out to dinner with me - or slept in until the late afternoon rather than going on a date. 

In that moment, when Louis called me a pussy, something snapped. And everything I ever felt about him suddenly felt... less. I loved him less. I wanted to be with him less. I missed him less. 

I didn't know it then, but I was trying to distance myself from him. Because I didn't want to feel that kind of pain anymore. I was tired of it.

You're being a pussy.

I cried when he said it. I broke down in hysterics and told him it was cruel. 

"Sorry," Louis rebuked. "But I'm not going to lie to you when it's true."

My hands wrapped tightly around the phone and I stifled another sob. Was this really the man I had dated the past three years? Was this really the person I had dedicated so much of my life to?

Most of the time, Louis was loving and gentle and kind. I liked the way he held me, stroked my hair, told me I was beautiful. I liked his jokes and his laughs and his cute little dance moves. But there was always a side of him that was too stubborn to apologize. Too proud to be called wrong. That was the side that I couldn't stand. 

Weeks went by after my job demotion and the pussy comment still stayed with me. Eventually, I got into a falling out with Niall and some other friends from my new city. I kept talking to Louis, but he started making less and less time for me, his calls dropping from once a day to twice a week. He often slept all day and sent me sporadic, lovey-dovey text messages.