Harry runs his hands down his face once again, a migraine creeping its way into his head. If he’s being honest he’s tired of arguing- hell he’s just tired in general. You’re standing in front of him, tapping your foot with your arms crossed. He hasn’t responded, and in all honesty- you don’t even want to know his response. Were you being selfish? Yes. Did you care right now? Not particularly.
“Well, are you going to answer, or are you going to just sit there like a complete idiot?” It’s mean, and you know it. He’s not an idiot- he’s actually so far from it that it’s insane, but you can’t help yourself. You just can’t hold it in anymore. You’d excused so many things that have happened in this relationship since it started, but you’d be damned if you excuse this once again. You’d be damned because he knew he fucking knew as to how important this was for you- and the fact that he is telling you, so fucking last minute is just not cool.
“You know what, [Y/N], I can’t do this with you right now,” He slaps his hands on his thighs, making a move to stand up. He easily has some height against you, but do you care? Once again, no.
“Well when, Harry- when are we going to talk about the fact that you’re missing my graduation, tell me when,” Your hands go flying into the air before lamely falling back to your sides. Your voice cracked and you hated that involuntary tears were pricking your eyes. He looks at you with an emotion that you can’t read, and the further this conversation goes- the worse the situation gets. You feel as though you drove over to see him for nothing.
You shake your head, not wanting to hear another lame excuse. To be fair, you’re not giving him a chance to speak, but at this point you’re pretty certain that you don’t want to hear a damn thing that he has to say.
“No, you listen to me, Harry. I have supported you, I have given up things for you, I have excused so many things for you, I have done so much for you, and one thing. One big thing I ask is that you be there, and now you can’t even do that. Do you even understand as to this makes me feel?” You can’t even look at him, and you find yourself taking a step back. He reaches his hand out in attempt to physically comfort you, but you easily reel your hand back as if appalled by his touch.
“Babe, I’m sorry, I can’t control my schedule. But you knew what you were signing up for-”
“Are you fucking kidding me, Harry? Fuck you. You know what? Don’t be sorry, I don’t even care anymore.” With that, you walk away, not having the energy to continue with him. He can go and date his career for all you care.