Harry Imagines

Cheating

The rain hit the windows lightly, constantly reminding you of the days you spent in Washington on that business trip. Since you’ve been gone, it’s rained incessantly and heavily. And when you were finally home, it started to storm.

Tonight was a moderately lonely night. A sense of dread filled you as the hours of waiting for Harry’s return from work. The hours seemed to stretch out and the surprise you planned for Harry dissipated into a much less enthusiastic return home. All you wanted to do was get out of the rain, and unwind in his arms. But you figured out that it wasn’t going to happen like that about three hours ago.

After another 45 minutes, the blare of the t.v. disappeared and the background noise did as well. It jerked you out of your deep sleep and you sat up on the couch still very sleepy. But a smile touched your lips when you saw Harry’s tall frame stride in front of the t.v. and to the kitchen. “Oh hey, honey,” you said while stretching both your arms and your smile.

"Hey," he mumbled. You furrowed your brows immediately getting the impression that there was something off with him. He probably didn’t remember that you were home three days earlier than planned. But then again, it was odd because all while you were gone, he would call just to tell you how much he missed you.

You scooted off the couch to go to the fridge where Harry was standing and wrap your arms around him. It was as though your touch was a bright fire to him, and he flinched out of your hug. You stepped back feeling hurt by his reaction. But he seemed unaffected by it and moved to the opposite side of the kitchen. “Um, how was work?” you ask timidly.

"Good."

"Is there… anything you want to talk about?"

"No."

"Well, I’m home! So…" you left it there, hoping he would catch your subtle hint.

"I know you’re home, Y/N."

"What’s with the tone in your voice?" you ask boldly. You could feel your eyes starting to burn, but the fight hasn’t even started yet. As if that wasn’t enough, the rain started to violently drum on the windows.

With a sardonic expression staining that perfect face of his, Harry turned on you and leaned against the counter arrogantly. “Sometimes I ask that to myself.”

"W- what are you talking about?"

"You’re stuttering- you know exactly what I’m talking about," he says, turning his back on you again. He went on to take his microwaved pizza out and place himself on the couch- further away from you.

"Just because I’m stuttering, that doesn’t mean I have a clue about what you’re trying to accuse me of!"

"Before you left to Washington, I promised that I would call you and talk to you whenever I could. And when I did, I sacrificed recording time and ditched the boys whenever they wanted to hangout."

"So what?!" you ask. You didn’t mean to sound inconsiderate, but you still didn’t understand how all of this was your fault at the moment.

"Y/N, whenever I called you, you didn’t want to talk! The way I sounded to you is exactly how you sound to me when I try talking to you!" Harry yelled as he jumped to his feet. "If I called you on break, you would always say you have to go. If I called you before bed, you would always say that you’re really sleepy. It’s always excuses with you."

"Are you kidding me?! I came home three entire days early for you! Is that not enough now?!"

"No, it’s not! It’s not going to make up for all of those nights that I spent wondering about our relationship…"