I think the worst part is that I’m the one who let go and im still here. I think the worst part is that you’ve moved on. I think the worst part is that you’re fine and I’m not. I think the worst part is that if you came back I’d let you. I think the worst part is that i’d make myself small for you again. I think the worst part is that you have my wrapped around your finger. I think the worst part is that you know that and use it to your advantage. I think the worst part is that even I knew that, but overlooked it because I love you so much. I think the worst part is I KNEW you didn’t love me, but I begged myself to believe you when you told me you did. I think the worst part is that i looked down on myself for not being enough for you.
And here, in the afterglow of a perfect day, in the heat of the slow setting sun and the glaze of happiness across both their faces, Louis feels complete freedom. Complete everything. It surges through him, makes him flush hot and cold all at once, the sudden jolt of emotion erupting inside. He holds the flag up with loose fingers, lets it fly behind them like a cape, like they’re superheroes soaring through the sky, untouchable. It flutters in the wind as Harry runs, flaps behind them in stark color. Louis wonders if this moment could go on forever, on loop, the sun a constant, stationed warmth. It feels that way, like if they just keep running they’ll never stop.
His voice was lovely, low and a bit rough, but not unyouthful. Exactly like a cowboy’s voice should sound. Louis laughed when all the heifers started to low along with the song. Harry stopped singing, letting out a little huff of indignation as he yelled, “That was supposed to be plaintive and romantic!”
Your concern is mine, and through every of your hardships I intend to be there for you to lean on me. Every piece of you that I earn, I cherish with my deepest care, and I hope that you are aware that I would care for you in the very same manner. Talk to me, confide in me. I will safeguard every thought.
I’ve come to the daunting realization that I cannot be without you. I don’t know myself yet, or entirely comprehend the abyss of affection I harbour for you, but I think the moment you left me I knew this one thing: I want you, because of who you are. I am more than willing to meet you halfway.You said you would have waited for me, and I desperately hope that this recess in the midst of our trial can be just that — a small pause before we carry on. Our verdict has yet to come, I suppose, but my decision as one of the two jurors is unambiguous. I am yours to have if you wish.
I hope you’re missing me, where ever you are. I hope that you wake up in the middle of the night expecting me to be in the space next to you. I hope that it’s eating you up inside; the way we left things. I hope that you still search for me in every girl that you meet. I hope you go back and read our messages. I hope your heart sinks into your stomach when someone brings me up. I hope I haunt your dreams. I hope you hate yourself for breaking me.