kalopsia [harry styles]

28

FALLON COLLINS

The next time I see Harry, it's a week later, December 21st and three days before Christmas.

I had to admit, the silence that had ensured between us the past week had been hell, and I was definitely not liking december.

It all seemed to go by quite gloomly, and foggy, like my head couldn't wrap itself around the fact that it was my favorite time of the year and I was feeling so exhausted. My normal routine these past few days had consisted of waking up, checking in on Nadia, going to work–I had picked up some extra shifts in the morning to distract myself– coming straight home and staying in bed watching whatever popped up on Netflix or the TV channels that day.

Even though I didn't want to admit it, not once had I been able to keep Harry off my mind. He was everywhere. In the tea that I drank, in the table on the corner of the coffee shop, in the annoying ads in Times Square, on the radio, anything and everything I did reminded me of him and I hated it.

What hurt me that most was the fact that he hadn't even bothered to contact me at all. Of course, I hadn't either, but in this moment and given the situation, I wasn't going to be talking to him if he didn't reach out first.

As each day went by I convinced myself more and more that he wasn't even going to try, that the friendship was over and we'd become strangers that only saw each other in therapy. I found myself feeling even worse than before I'd met him.

This week had also helped me realize something about myself though, something I wouldn't have realized if it hadn't been for his loud absence. I depended on others to help me feel better, to make me happy. When I found someone I tended to over attach like a tick to a dog–It had happened with Faith, it had happened with Liam, with Nadia and now with Harry. I over attached and then when something happened I was the only one who suffered.

I would have to work on that, but it felt good to know that I was becoming self aware and that I could do something to better myself.

I was currently watching a re-run of Gilmore Girls, which was odd since I hadn't even watched the series to begin with. The only thing I knew was that the main guy–Dean– was hot and he was dating the main girl–Rory. I sipped on my hot chocolate carefully, huddled into my blanket and leaning back on my couch. Outside it was foggy and cold, but I liked it. For some reason, today seemed like a good day.

A frown covers my face when a sturdy knock sounds at my door.

I purse my lips, my head turning to eye in the direction of the door with confusion. I wasn't expecting anyone. I wait for a few moments, thinking that maybe they'd made a mistake with the apartment number, but a few seconds later another knock rumbles through the door.

I turn back to the TV, watching as Rory and Dean fight over something that I didn't quite catch, and then turn back to face the door, contemplating what to do. I take in a deep breath, lean forward and put the hot chocolate on the coffee table before pulling the warm blanket off me and groaning as I get up from the couch.

I'd been in my pajamas all day, my hair was made up into a nest above my head and I hadn't really bothered with skin care the past few days. Though I didn't actually need it, not following my usual routine made me feel greasy and dirty.

I walk towards the door, cursing under my breath at whoever was on the other side of the door for interrupting my insignificant re-run of Gilmore Girls. I grab the door knob, unlocking the door and swinging it open.

"I swear to god if it isn't something important–" I trail off, my eyes widening in surprise as I see the sight in front of me.

Harry stands there, hands deep in his jacket pockets, nose tinged red ever so slightly. He sports an army green beanie on his head, and I can see the curls from his hair–which has started to get on the long side– falling around the beanie.