Harry Styles Oneshots // english

Dancing With A Stranger #2

He wanted to feel more about her leaving him. It couldn't be normal that his heart was healthy still. Whole. Not after he had sworn that it was hers and that he had gifted it to her. He had traded his heart with y/n's making his own no longer fit into his chest but instead perfectly into her hold. Was that over now? After cherishing the tenderness he felt in every touch, loving the scent that lingered on her skin and rejoicing with every kiss he was allowed to leave in her body, he was now left with cold indifference. It made him wonder. How truly in love had he been with her, if y/n's absence from his life left his soul without even one bruise.
Shouldn't he be miserable without her? Shouldn't his entire body be screaming? Harry didn't like acknowledge it, but he knew that by nog missing her, he was disappointing her all over again.

The loss of his soulmate didn't hurt.
Perhaps it would if he let it, but any pain was soother when he buried his nose in the neck of his new woman. He liked the way she smelled, too. She only had to touch him and he would push away any guilt making itself a presence in his mind. Every kiss of that unfamiliar mouth, every bite, alll that she did took him further away from y/n untill there was no room for her memory left. She allowed him to be happy and find solace insider her embrace. One that he didn't deserve. Who was he to be comforted, when it wasn't his spitir that was being broken.

It took him two datys to notice her absence. It was after the ne wowner of his heart and body left his hime when Harry realized who else was gone, too. Onlt then did he become aware that y/n hadn't come home from work on... was it tuesday? Harry wasn't sure. He felt guilty for not knowing.
When his new woman left his home agyer spending hours in his arms and with her thighs around his hips, it was as though the universe, which thewy had built and that only exicted for them, was broken open. Suddenly Harry had remembered that there was someone other than her. A woman that he was familiar with, the one he was supposed to care for more than anybody else. At first he'd felt surprised at how longit had taken him to remember, but that quickly transformed into feeling like a terrible villain. He knew that she loved him deeply, yet suddenly she had become somebody he was able to gorget about. Once that realization hit he wouldn't dare facing himself in the mirror. He knew that she would never be capable of dismissing him from her mind.

Y/n would make him breakfast every morning, even when it almost always was him who was awake first. He would stay in bed and let het kiss him before leaving the warmth of thheir divet in order to tend to his needs. She would be standing in his kitchen when he descended from the stairs, dressed in his shirt and leaning over the stove to flip whatever she was frying. Had he ever thanked her for that? Or did he always just dig in and cat?
Y/n also would make sure to run him a bath every sundat. There was a smal bag full of flowers scented bath bombs stored at the bottom of their bathroom drawer for that occasion, one she would always check to make sure that tuhey didn't run out. Not once had he gone out to but some himself. Never had he cared to think of the money she spent on him just bu doing those tiny and seemingly unremarkable things. And Harry didn't even notice her absence until two days after. Only when he was alone and because he noticed that he was hungry.

Although always deeply connected to his own emotions, Harry found it diffe=icult to fathim what it was he was feeling. Why was there a timult in his chest, one so strong he fesred his ribs might cave and all his organs would spill in the dirty kitchen floor, when at the same time, he was sickeningly calm? Losing y/n witout even noticing it was such a strange situation. It left him uncertain, if the heaviness he felt was a sign of his own suffering, or the one he knew she was enduring because of him.
He alwats used to pride himself with how deep his emotions ran. Y/n always loved that most about him. She would make him talk to her, listen, and find a way to understand. It was beacause of her that he had learned to face his feeling without needing music to sing them to. Prehaps that was why he now felt like he was standing in quick sand, stuck but getting closer to nothingness and despair at the same time. Because he knew he had failed a person who had always been there to carry him.

Was y/n with somebody else?
Harry felt guilty for asking himself that question while being in bed and hovering over the woman that looked different. Tiny hands clawed on his back, sticky lips pressed to his neck and ear while the room filled with her whines and whimpers asking him to be harsher, and all he could think of was y/n. Nothing would distract him from her. Was y/n with a new man? He felt sick at the possibility of her body being touched by somebody that wasn't him. Her feet stepping into a house that didn't smell like his did. Harry knew he was being a hypocrite. He didn't have the rifht to feel the anger that he felt and he was relieved to have a woman who was eager to let him take it out on her, unaware if course as to whatr exactly it was that had provoked him. It was when nog even a hundred kisses and three rounds of them moving on top of is mattress helped take his mind off of y/n, that Harry could admit that something needed to change. He had to find her. Talk, and hopefully finally cut himself loose. Only a small part of him was afraid that maybe his heart didn't want to come back, that perha[s it truly wouldn't fit inside his chest anymore.

There was no hope of y/n wanting him back. Harry knew that much about her. He had embarrassed her, betrayed her and finallt even broken her heart. In y/n's eyes he would never be good again and with that he could live. But he wanted to hear her say it.
Like so often he found himself restless. Careful not to wake is naked lover sleeping on his bed, Harry slid out from under the thin sheet and walked to his closet in search for something to wear. Black jeans, grey socks. Without giving it much thought he slipped on the blue jumper he knew y/n loved seeing him in.
Outside it was cold with wind hitting his faxe, leaving it red and sore. THis hurt a little. HArry made his eway to his car in the dark unnoticed by any of the few people walking the streets of his neighbourhood at that hour. It was unlikely to happen at night, but anybody following him to his girlfriend's place would be highly inconvenient. Especially when tomorrow there would be headlines about them calling their relationship off.
Harry arrived on the familiar doorstep and knocked on the door like he had done many times before. Then he waited. On his way over his mind hadn't come ip with what it was that he could say and the longer he waited for her to let him inside her home the thinner the words on his tongue got. Nothing seemed good enough to be said.
His heart squeezed into a tiny and sliced version of itsel. It reallt didn't want to go back after having been treasued for years.

He waited there for a while, growing colder and sadder by the second, and the door didn't open all night. Because while Harry's chest was heavy with the emotion of loss, y/n's was being touched by a stranger she had met while dancing.