All of Me (Harry Styles) - Book 2

Chapter 66: Going... Going...Gone

-Harry's POV-

I squint my eyes, cursing the sunlight streaming in through the window. Slowly pushing myself up I realize I fell asleep on top of the duvet in my clothes. Again.

I stumble across the bedroom towards the bathroom, my feet kicking several glass bottles along the way.

Splashing cold water on my face, I cringe as I look in the mirror. Dark circles surround my eyes, reminding me the little sleep I've gotten lately hasn't been restful.

I pop two Advil in my mouth, swallowing them dry as I head into the kitchen. My hand bypasses the water bottle on the counter, going straight for a warm beer. I don't even give a shit that it tastes like ass, it's the only thing left in the flat. Except water of course.

I push my hair off my face as I plop down onto the couch, my eyes scanning over the living room. A broken lamp laying across the room, a dark stain on the wall with remnants of a brown glass bottle laying beneath it, a chair ripped in two. Just more reminders of what a fuck up I am.

My fingers pull my phone out of my pocket, deleting every text message, email, and voicemail that doesn't have her name attached to it. Which leaves me with nothing. Zero calls, zero texts, zero attempts to contact me. Which is exactly what I deserve.

I didn't chase after her, beg her to stay, follow her, or try to find out where she was. I did nothing but sit in the same fucking chair that now lays in two pieces not five feet away from me.

I hate myself.

I've become this completely different person. So afraid to lose her I've done insane things. Lying to her, forging contracts and letters, hiding things from her, and cheating on her.

It was cheating. My heart belonged to her, I loved her, and I betrayed that love. I can't blame it on being an accident or a mistake. I went looking, searching for someone who could make me feel anything Ava had. Yet the only thing I ever felt after was pain and hate and anger.

Hate for myself for losing her, pain that I'd hurt her, anger that they weren't her.

I'd never been so selfish before, never treated woman like that before.

My mum didn't even recognize me then. The one visit I made home in those six months ending in me being kicked out by Robin for getting drunk and wrecking my mum's car. Granted it was only into their mailbox, I didn't even make it out of the driveway. My mum was so disappointed in me, shaking her head and crying as Robin threw my bag in my face.

But of all those days, that was the one I wouldn't take back. Cause that was the one that made me stop.

I still remember, plain as day the words my mum said to me. I was drunk, utterly pissed, but that I could never forget.

She'd followed me out of the house and down the driveway, stopping me just before I opened the door to the cab.

'She's waiting for you Harry. She's waiting for you to show up, find your way back into her life, and love her. This, what you're doing, will never get her back. Do yourself a favor, do Ava a favor. Don't keep her waiting.'

I chuck my phone, it landing on top of the coffee table with a thud.

My feet move themselves as I walk back into the kitchen, pouring the rest of my beer down the drain. I chug an entire bottle of water before grabbing a trash bag.

Once again I'm disgusted with myself, the bag is full by the time I've cleaned up all the empty liquor bottles that were laying around the house.

The stain on the wall takes a bit of work, several different cleaners being tried before finding the right one for the job.

The busted chair and lamp are set to the curb along with the bags of trash I've filled.

Satisfied with the way the house turned out, I now focus on myself. I know I smell like a pub and look like I've been sleeping on the street, so a proper shower is in order.

I feel my muscles relax as the hot water hits them. Usually a shower not only calms me but also gives me time to think. Normally I fancy having one, but today it's a double edged sword.

The only thing I can think about is Ava and the last thing I feel when I think of her is calm.

I make quick work of it, getting out and throwing some clothes on as soon as possible.

I at least look like I'm among the living again, though I feel far from it.

I find my phone where I left it, and I take a seat once again on the couch as my fingers brush across the screen finding my only favorited contact.

Av 💛🍌

My thumbs compose a text message that's quickly deleted. I try again, it only ending in the same result.

My finger presses down on call, instantly pressing end before it even rings through.

What the bloody hell am I doing?

Texting her I'm sorry? Calling her for forgiveness?

I shake my head at myself, laughing at what a fool I am.

I'm not going to text her.

I'm not going to call her.

I jump up, grabbing my keys off the table and heading out the door.

I'm going to find her.

I'm going to fight for her.

And I'm going to bring her home.

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Double update!! Gotta vote for that right? ;)