fallen home

3

more Fallen Angel AU

+Kei is very proficient in archery and was taught by Akiteru.  

+Because Tadashi is not exactly a human he doesn’t age or grow.

+Kissing Kei’s forehead is Tadashi’s way of showing how gay he is for him reassurance and blessings.

Sizzy!
  • Simon: If I had a dollar for every time I thought about you...
  • Isabelle: Let me guess, you'd be rich.
  • Simon: Wrong. I would only have one.
  • Isabelle: ... Let me guess again. Because I never left your mind?
  • Simon: Precisely.
  • Isabelle: Wrong. You would have two.
Meet Me In The Hallway; H.S.

She’d always meet me in the hallway. Whether it was four AM, three in the afternoon or so early she had almost had to leave for work, she was waiting for me to come home. For a kiss placed upon her lips, her arms snaking around my waist one of the things I always looked forward to. Gradually, she didn’t wait for me anymore. I don’t know what caused her to be so heartbroken that she’d just laid on the sofa, eyes trained on the television as I passed her.

I know where it started. Rumours. I’m not one to go around and lie that I didn’t do anything wrong, because I’m not perfect – but whatever magazines were slandering about, I knew that wasn’t true. I’d never do anything that would do Y/n any wrong. But I think, and somehow, I hope I’m wrong, that it had gotten through her head. Everything she heard – from so many people – pictures that were ripped out of their context – I just couldn’t blame her. We never spoke a word about it. Per her request.

I hope she still loves me. I hope, that when it gets better, when I get better, she’ll give me another chance and it’ll work out. When I got home today, her last drop seemed to have fallen.

“Y/N, I’m home…” My voice hasn’t been chirpy since she stopped waiting for me – I know I can’t just expect her to do so, but it seemed she enjoyed it as well. I hear a mumble coming from somewhere out of my field of sight, so I take a few steps into my home.

“Harry.” Y/n appears in front of me, apparently completely dressed, her jacket slung over her shoulder. I stare at her, at every aspect of her, and I feel my throat already constricting. “Where are you going love?” Her lip starts quivering and without a second thought I leap towards her and cup her face in my cold hands.

“H., I – I need some time off. I think.” She averts her gaze and I swallow to keep any fluids at bay. Within a split second, I wanted to scream out and vomit all over my floor. She can’t leave me. Not now. “Y/n, sweetheart, where would you go? Please, don’t leave me.”

She just shakes her head. I don’t want her to disappear through that door and not know where she is. I don’t think my heart could handle that. It was more than logical in my mind that the next words flowed past my lips. “Stay. I’ll leave.”

“Harry, no. This is your home; I was just a guest.” She pushes me away from her and starts shrugging her jacket on; but I won’t have it. “The moment you stepped foot insides this house it was also yours. Everything that I own is yours.” My words were heavy and I hope she grasped the nuances behind it. For now, I might as well leave.

“I’ll come collect my things when you’re at work tomorrow.” I mumble, my voice so strained I think she knows exactly how I feel. I take another step towards her, pressing my lips against hers, for maybe, my last time. I didn’t look back, because she would see how much this was paining me.

I had roamed the streets for the rest of the day. I didn’t want Y/n doing this, but right now I didn’t know where to go either. Of course, I could just give Lou or Niall a call and I’m sure they’d help me out almost immediately, but, we were going our own way and I don’t think they liked their former bandmate crashing on their sofa for an unspecified amount of time.

I walk and walk, think and try to force myself to think harder, for it to get better, for me to get better, for some way to work this out. I knew my girl and I know the most important thing she needed now was time. But I wasn’t going down without a fight.

My chest still feels vice-grip-tight, my throat closed off. I’m in some sort of daze where I somewhat realize I’m walking the streets of London, but I have absolutely no idea where I am. At some point, I’m sure I passed Piccadilly Circus, but it seemed so empty. I had never seen it empty.

This is hard, both for her and I alike. I wouldn’t want to think about reading so much slander about my girlfriend and pretending everything is alright. I would’ve cracked months ago. The hours pass and the sun trades his place with the moon.

When I stop in front of his door, I don’t know how much time has passes. I just hope he’s still up. I need a friend, horribly. I hear his heavy footsteps stomp towards his front door and shrug my coat closer to my shivering frame as I hear the familiar click.

“H.? What are you doing here? It’s almost six in the morning, man.” Niall opens the door, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he stares behind me to see if I brought anyone with me – Y/N.

“Y/n and I – uh – we are on a break.” I cast my gaze down, biting my lips while stuffing my hands in my coat pockets. I hear Niall sigh and the door creak. “Come in, H. You want some tea?”

I talk to Niall about it. Every single little thing that has eventually built up to my relationship crumbling at my feet. I feel helpless and I never thought I’d experience something like this again. “I don’t know what to do now, Niall. If I lose her, I’ll practically lose everything. But the horrific part of it all is that I get her and I wouldn’t blame her if she decided to let it be.”

Niall just sits there and lets me ramble. We talk until ten in the morning when he offers his guest room to me. I assure him it’s just for a few days – at most.

Those few days pass and when I’m not doing promo for the new album or recording, I try to stay out of Niall’s way as much as possible. I don’t know what I need to do, but I need to come up with something, fast. I’ve been so occupied in my mind that it’s physically paining me.

I walk the streets, and by now I find that I almost have them all completely memorised. I’ve met some new people, found some new bars. But all I could think about is how much Y/n would like this overjoyed fan, or how much she’s like the paintings on the wall on this art-themed café.

I’ve stopped at my front door many times, about to knock, but deciding not to. This day wasn’t any different, although I’ve been standing here for almost an hour now. I lack the courage of knocking, or just entering, and talking to her. I’m afraid – terrified even – she’ll say the things I don’t want to hear.

Just when I had decided to come back another day, hopefully with more courage, or maybe a box of Y/n’s favourite chocolates, I feel my phone vibrating in my coat pocket. A text message from her flashes brightly onto my phone screen.

Meet me in the hallway.


I think there is an art to falling apart, 
You come home after a long day of holding pieces of yourself together, losing small bit of yourself on the way home like fallen leaves from trees 

There are pieces of you on the path by the lakes, blowing with the wind like stray newspapers twisting, turning 
There are pieces of you tracked and trailed into the lives of the ones you love, the ones who hurt you the most

And when you come home, you release the knots that kept you from over flowing all day 
Then there are pieces of you on the walls, the floor, the ceiling 
And you get into bed, fall asleep and you get back up again
You bundle up your mismatch pieces, stuffing them back together until your m are bursting at the seams again

And you stitch your smile back together hoping it won’t come undone too soon 
And you go out and do it all over again

—  the art of falling apart
@dissociatingx