It’s still Christmas night. Harry, Y/n, and Tracie have all watched movies, ate junk food, and exchanged gifts until it was time for Harry and Tracie to go back to see Cara again. Y/n almost cried when Harry packed everything up to leave again. It was her first time seeing him in months and it made her miss him like crazy.
“It was fun, Y/n, thanks for letting us stop by” Harry smiles, leaning down to wrap his arms around her.
She frowns, but tries her best to hug him back as best as possible.
“No problem, it’s Christmas, I wanted you here anyway.”
She shuts herself up before she says anything else.
“And my little Tracie” Y/n laughs, bending down to smother her daughter in kisses. Tracie giggles, kicking her legs up and down in excitement, “I love you very very much, and I hope Santa didn’t let you down this year.”
Tracie beamed at her statement.
“He treated me like a princess, mummy!!!”
Everyone laughed, but Harry said he had to leave before Cara got too lonely. It made Y/n feel like shit, she almost started crying again. She gave the two of them one last hug before she let them free.
Harry carried Tracie into the car, packing up the presents in an organized fashion before driving back to their home.
“What’s wrong, Trace?” Harry questions, watching as her eyes are fixed on her shoes, her body barely moving as he just sees her slumping in her chair.
“I don’t like the way mummy looked” She says, turning her head to look out of her window, “That’s how she looks before she cries.”
Harry feels his chest become heavier, and his breath hitches at the base of his throat. He grips the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turn white. His blood begins to flow with sorrow, he can feel his veins being poisoned with it. He always hated seeing Y/n sad, because it took so much to tear her down. She was always so strong, she would brush off anything that stood in her way. It was one of his favorite things about her, how the world could be destroyed in a fraction of a second, and she’d still smile, laugh, and say “as long as I have my family”, that was always her reason for being happy.
“Baby, can I ask you a question?” He mumbles.
His shaking fingers reach forward to lower the volume of his music, eyes darting to the rearview mirror to see Tracie playing with the velcro straps on her shoes.
“Of course, daddy.”
He gulps, eyes switching between the road and the mirror every few seconds. “How much does mummy cry?”
“Hmmm,” Tracie hums, her pointer finger stroking her chin as she looks up, “She cries at night, when it’s bedtime. She reads me a book, kisses me, walks out, and cries a lot. It makes my heart sad.”
Harry sucks in a breath, his fingers clenching tighter, his eyes glossing heavier.
“Does she ever tell you why, babydoll?”
What a fucking stupid question, he thinks. She doesn’t need to tell anybody why she’s been crying every night. He knows damn well why she does, he didn’t have to play stupid to get answers.
“Because mummy loves you.”
He nods, lips trembling the second the words leave her mouth.
“Has she told you this?“
“Yes. But she doesn’t know it. Sometimes when I try to give her hugs I see her looking at the picture where you were holding her in her white sparkley dress. You know, the one where she looked like a princess? Sometimes she sleeps next to it a lot, and sometimes when she thinks I’m sleeping, she comes in my room to talk about you. Mumma loves you very much.”
He had no idea this was how it was. He should have known, he did divorce her, he did fall in love with someone else and throw away seven years of dating and three years of marriage, he did become distant with her once he left, but what else was he supposed to do? Live with the pain of knowing what he did to her each day? See what he caused each day of his life?
Something suddenly isn’t settling right in his stomach. It’s like his entire stomach had flipped inside out, and he swears his head twisted for a couple of seconds as well.
“But it’s Christmas.” Tracie breaks the silence, placing her American Girl Doll on her lap, “she shouldn’t be crying on Christmas.”
Harry’s lip close tight in a straight line. He suddenly feels his hands becoming cold.
“You’re right, bubba,” Harry sighs, “you’re absolutely right.”
His bed feels cold. For the first time in nearly 8 years, his bed feels cold. Which is strange, especially since Cara’s arm is hooked around his waist and her lips are so close to his neck he feels the hot air blowing from between her lips. He tried desperately to sleep, to escape the undying feeling of grief that seems to have taken over his every move. But he can’t sleep, he can’t shut his eyes for a second without seeing Y/n’s face. God, how battered down she looked, it’s almost giving him nightmares. She basically admitted he was the reason for this. Hell, she didn’t even have to admit it for him to know. “As long as I have my family” was the reason she was the strong, happy, beautifully well put together woman he fell in love with. And now she doesn’t even have that anymore.
He sighs, rubbing the balls oh his hands against his eyes. There is still an uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. Even with the closure, even though he finally knows he’s wrong, even when he admitted he was wrong, that uneasy feeling never left him that night. He feels helpless, he can’t even put a single finger on what it is that’s making him all anxious and sick.
But for some reason, his heart called for home. Even thinking about his house with Y/n warms up every bit of him and he’s not sure what it is. It’s like he needs to go home, to see his Y/n. He didn’t know whether it was just a second hand instinct to go to Y/n when he feels this unwell, or whether it was just a sign telling him to see her, but whatever it was, he didn’t ask questions. He slowly detached himself from Cara, rolling off the bed until his bare feet hit the floor. He had one of his shirts from the other night hanging on the edge of the bed, so he took it in one swift motion and out it on over his head. He already had sweatpants on, so all he had to do was put on socks and shoes before he (hopefully) was out the door before Cara would notice his absence.
He hears Cara huff behind him, every bit of his movements stopping, sucking in his breath, praying Cara hasn’t woken up.
“Harry, where ya going’?” Cara slurs, eyes drooping as she lay half awake next to him.
Harry quietly swears, eyes shut in pain, trying to get out of this the best possible way he can.
“Something doesn’t feel right. I’m going to see Y/n, okay? I feel like something’s wrong.”
“What is it? Want me to come with you?”
He shakes his head, finally able to find the strength to cover his feet with some socks before putting on a pair of his brown boots, which are torn on the sides from all the usage, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is Y/n.
“This is something I have to do myself.” is all he says before he makes his way outside.
Harry spent the entire ride trying to figure out exactly what he was doing. He hasn’t had a proper conversation with her in months. He has absolutely no idea what to say. “Hey, just checking up on you”? That sounds so scripted, it makes him want to cry. He almost does cry when he parks in front of Y/n’s house. It feels so strange to him, how he isn’t able to walk right in, say “home sweet home”, kiss Y/n and check on Tracie to make sure she was doing okay. The entire situation seems fucked to him. Knowing he has to knock on the door before he enters her home makes every muscle in his body clench. For the last 10 years of his life he was able to do anything with her without asking.
He somehow suddenly feels far away from her.
Harry unbuckles himself, taking a deep breath before shutting off his car. When he reaches her doorstep, the feeling in his stomach rises and spreads to every part of his body. A sense of horror rushes through him, and just like that, all he knows is that the feeling in his stomach was his sixth sense. He had only ever gotten it with Y/n, only when Y/n was in danger. He experiences this numerous times, all of which when Y/n was extremely hurt. He got the feeling even when he was miles and miles away from her, it was just one of the many ways his body connected with hers. It helped him help her so much, he could have never been more grateful for such a disgusting feeling, because he knew it derived from their love for each other. If the love wasn’t so strong he wouldn’t have sensed anything like that for her.
But now he does, that feeling is all over him and he has to stop himself from breaking at this point.
Knocking on her door is the least of his worries when he pushes the door open so quick he could have sworn the nob fell off. However, he doesn’t look back. How the hell could he not pick up on that feeling before? He should have known the second he felt his stomach knot, but he didn’t. This is so unlike him, he was able to detect when she was in danger like it was second-hand nature. Is this who he’s become? Has he become a stranger to himself and to her?
“Y/N!! Y/N!!” He calls out, just hoping to at least get a noise coming from her.
“Fuck fuck fuck” he mumbles, fingers digging into his scalp so hard he almost draws blood.
He runs upstairs, because he would have seen her if she were down there. He would have at least heard her breathing, but he didn’t get a single sound, and the silence makes him think he’s acted too late. But when his feet land on the second floor, he sees fog covering the air ever so slightly. Y/n always took her showers hot, she said it made her feel relaxed, and made her muscles feel like clouds. She also loved the steam, the steam made her feel clean, she said it cleaned her lungs and made her feel so comforted. But this time, seeing the steam roll from underneath the cracks of the closed door, he knows this is so much more than a hot shower.
“Y/N!” He screams, wiggling the doorknob, only to discover that she locked it. No, oh God, no.
Harry pushes his body roughly against the door, his shoulder immediately in pain as he does so.
“Fuck! Y/n, open the goddamn door!” He yells.
He rams the side of his body into the door again, but nothing budged. He swears under his breath, he can’t let this shit block him from saving her. It’s either he gives up on them and harms Y/n even more, or he tries to save the parts of her that’s still alive. He rams into the door again, this time knocking the lock right out, making the door swing open and land harshly against the wall. He is suddenly extremely claustrophobic, his throat seems to be closing in on itself, lungs expanding to try and get more air inside. The steam from the hot water makes the air seem so thick, he can already feel his skin getting clammy. He rushes to the shower, tearing the curtain nearly off the pole. He can barely make out her figure, laying in fetal position, an entire bottle of vodka held loosely in her hand, but he sees the horrifying sight. He almost pukes, his stomach turning inside out by the look of her red, blistered, naked body.
He cries as he turns off the water, careful not to have the water touch him. When he turns it off, her weeps drown the room, which the water was clearly blocking out before.
“Baby, no” Harry whimpers, reaching out to slowly graze his fingers along her arm, careful not to hurt her.
“It hurts” Y/n whispers, the heat from the water almost creating an aftermath. The heat is rising within her, she actually feels like her skin is on fire.
“IT’S BURNING!” Y/n sobs, the sides of her arms squeezing against her head. Harry acts quick, making sure the handle is directly in between the hot and cold before turning the water back on.
He leaves her at a medium temperature until he sees the redness of her skin go down and he hears her cries lessen. He turns off the water then, reaching to open the cabinet underneath the sink to grab a towel. He reaches to grab Y/n, as softly as possible, just so that he was able to sit her up. Her head rolled back, too intoxicated to move a single muscle as Harry wrapped her up. He hasn’t stopped crying. What he just witnessed was his worst nightmare coming to life. Y/n, his Y/n, was hurting herself. She was so sad, she was depressed enough to inflict pain upon herself, to somehow escape her horrifying reality. He saw his love almost dying in front of him. He saw his love limp, battered and blistered, dazed and depressed, just letting pain happen. To see her like that, that was his biggest fear.
He growls, punching down on the ground before grabbing Y/n’s head in his hands.
“WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!?!” Harry yells, keeping his grip on her head so that her dazed gaze stays focused on him.
Her eyes gloss over with tears, but she doesn’t budge to answer him. All that she process is Harry. Harry Harry Harry. Her Harry is here, holding her, with her. She can’t form a proper thought except for Harry being with her, she starts crying.
“IF I DIDN’T COME HERE YOU WOULDN’T HAVE MADE IT OUT OF THERE! WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING THROUGH YOUR MIND?! DO YOU KNOW HOW BAD YOU JUST HURT YOURSELF?!”
“I ’s puking” Y/n slurs, her eyes rolling to the back of her head, “Needed t’ clean me.”
Harry sighs, dropped her head from her hands so that he can rub his eyes. He swears, everything inside of him is breaking. His heart is shattered and all the strength he had left had turned to weakness. His body begins to shake, his hands turn to fists, and before he can stop himself, he’s letting every emotion out. He sobs, screams, hits himself until he can’t breathe. All he manages to do is hold Y/n against him, as if she is his lifeline.
“I’m so sorry” he sobs, his face nuzzling into her neck, “I had no idea.”
Y/n frowns, but is too drunk to say much. She feels tears rolling down her cheeks. Big, fat, ugly tears pouring from her eyes. Holding Harry like this involves too much pain, it makes her want to down another bottle of vodka and smoke another pack of cigarettes. All she wants to do is feel numb again, lose every bit of emotion she’s felt just to cut herself a break.
But all she feels now is painful, bittersweet love.
“Love you” she mumbles before she can bite her tongue.
Harry’s breath hitches in his throat. He’s taken away by her words, he honestly feels like he’s just been told the greatest news of his life. Every color he sees is suddenly brighter, every doubt he has ever carried with him has vanished, and every bit of negativity he’s carried had been left aside completely, by just those words she spoke.
“Oh, Y/n”, he whispers, “I think I love you, too.”
If you were looking for AU's Like Um Promstuck And Dave wins as the prom queen and John as prom king and they dance together but dave is wearing a sparkley red dress
personally i find it funnier if dave and john just went as friends together and they were both wearing suits or w/e and the announced the prom king and john was all like oh je ez guys come on but honestly not a lot of people were surprised
but then they announce the prom queen as dave and everyone just turns to look over at dave and there are girls glaring daggers at him and he’s just standing there straight faced as john starts losing it up on stage
and then he’s smirking and hopping up on stage too and proudly wearing his tiara and damn he takes it in striDE HAHAHAHA STRIDER TAKEs it in stride i’m not funny