Infinity||H.S.

Him

"I hope you can see the shape that I'm in
While he's touching your skin
He's right where I should, where I should be
But you're making me bleed"

March, 30th 2019

Harry

When I woke up this morning my head was pounding. After the event, yesterday night, me and another couple of people decided to attend the after-party and well... Let's just say I don't remember much.
I remember meeting some fans outside the local, and I remember taking pictures with them, but after that, everything was a bit of blur.
I know Jeff brought me home because he left a note on my nightstand along with a water bottle and some Advil.

I spent two hours laying in my bed, - drifting in and out of slumber- in total silence.
The events of the last week keep replaying in my mind, especially my dinner with Elle.

Finally, we were able to talk about some things off without much of a fight and it felt good.

Even if she was right. I'm a fucking coward.

I almost told her I remember every little detail about Paris, and along with that, I almost told her how that kiss and the one with shared almost two years later in Los Angels have haunted my dreams for so long.

I almost told her how my body craved hers that night at my house, and for how long I wanted that to happen between us.

But I'm coward, and I'm grateful Hannah interrupted me before I could tell her.

How could I tell her that, after I decided not to purchase my feelings for her and go after Camille?

I was scared at the time. I couldn't find in me the strength to tell her I was feeling something more than a simple friendship, because firstly, I didn't know what that feeling was, and secondly, I was scared of ruining our friendship.

And I ended up ruining it anyway.

What good would have done doing so now?

None, to the both of us.

Don't get me wrong, even though it ended badly, I don't regret my relationship with Camille. It opened my eyes to many things. But in the back of my mind, there was always that voice, asking: what if?

What if I told Elle about Paris sooner?
What if I told Elle our night together wasn't just a drunk mistake or the heat of the moment?
What If I told Elle sooner that the feeling of her skin against mine was still burning in my mind?

I was and still am a coward.

And she saw right through me, calling me out of my bullshit. When I told her It wasn't my fault if I didn't felt the same for her, I saw the hurt in her eyes, even if it lasted for a second, replaced by anger, and the knowledge that I was lying.

Because I was, fuck if I was.

I just didn't know what that feeling was. Just like I don't know what it is now.

For all I know, I could be simply lust, mixed with a strong affection.
What am I supposed to tell her?

I want you? I wanked off more times than I like to admit since we met again just thinking about that night?

Yeah, I don't think so.

And even if I finally come to terms with what this feeling in the pit of my stomach is, how am I supposed to tell her? She moved on, she has her life, she's getting married, for Christ's sake.