Perfection» h.s

fifty three.

Third Person

Spaces- One Direction

He brings out the worst in her, and maybe that's why she loves him so much. She's always supposed to be around people that bring out the best in her, but he just flips that idea upside down.

Maybe that's why they both can't sleep. Three hundred miles away from each other,yet they both subconsciously toss and turn and have silent tears stream down their faces, and wondering if everything was a mistake.

Neither of them want to be the first to crack, calling or texting the other, because what would they say? They'd be speechless, silence slowly wasting the first battery. But, damn, do they miss one another.

She misses the taste of his tongue, his green eyes. Those sparkling jade eyes she found herself staring at so frequently, and whenever she closes her eyes, she can see them blinking right back at her.

He misses her smile. That easy smile that he had fallen hopelessly for- lost.

He sat down, on the couch, smoking a cigarette. Hair a mess, clothes smelly and just looking like a disheveled mess. He hasn't cried, but now he finds himself, tears streaming down his face as he realizes that he misses her.

And every time they don't call, every day Pandora spends in Amsterdam, not in Harry's arms, three hundred miles, becomes six hundred. A bigger space to keep secrets in, innit? Six hundred becomes nine hundred, and it leaves them wondering if everything was a mistake.

But that's the problem.

When a devil that acts more like an angel and an angel that act more like a devil question, hell is started.

A fiery hell.

And that's exactly what their love was. A fiery, destructive hell.

So at four A.M, they're both in their separate version of hell, three hundred miles away, tears escaping both of their eyes, and just wondering if the other is walking through Hell with a smile on their face.