He was hurt.
He knew checking the several different social media accounts was a bad idea.
But he did it anyways.
On every single one was pictures of her and some guy sharing a drink. His DMs were flooded with ‘are u ok’s and words of encouragement to move on. But it wasn’t that easy. He’d gotten attached to this girl, and she ended things so abruptly. They’d only been together about 3 months, but he’d gotten so smitten so quickly. They seemed to be inseparable, but that was only through the pap cameras. When they got home, she’d always pick a fight about the same thing: privacy. He knew his fans were kind of persistent when he or anyone else from 1D got a girlfriend. Her Instagram and twitter were flooded with questions, insults, and provocative statements. She put her social media on private, but that didn’t stop the tweets. She was fed up one night and walked out, never to be seen from or heard from again. Her last words to Harry that night were ‘I love you, but I can’t do this anymore’. That sentence had been running through Harrys mind for the last week.
It was a good thing he’d stocked his house with alcohol, because he sure as shit didn’t want his fans seeing him depressed and drunk every night out at bars or clubs. He knew they worried about him sometimes.
Harry wasn’t one to leave drunk voicemails, but tonight was different. He’d seen that picture of her and that guy not 12 hours earlier, and was completely shitfaced now, laying on his couch staring at the picture.
He didn’t remember much of last night, but he did know he drank enough to give him a massive hangover this morning. Not even ibuprofen and coffee could cure it this time. When he checked his phone, he saw the last app open was the phone app. Oh jeez. He’d called her 12 times. God only knows what he said to her in his voicemails that he inevitably left her. He remembered in one he left saying something about “What does that guy have to offer you that I don’t? Does he treat you half as good as I did?” He didn’t want to know the answers, nor did he want to remember anything else he’d said in those voicemails.
He didn’t talk to anyone that day. He was too embarrassed about the voicemails that he just stayed cooped up in his house all day. Drinking and stalking her Instagram. She’d really had him whipped. He finally decided to try and get his mind off it with TV, but it didn’t do much. Every little scene reminded him of her somehow. He was plastered, again, and leaving voicemails, again. This time, the voicemails were more poetic, but also had a mix of jealousy and depression about the breakup 8 days prior. “How could you move on so quickly, hm? I’m sitting here in this fucking house, by myself. Laying on YOUR side of the bed. You’re probably out with HIM living it up, not even giving a damn.” Once he hung up the phone, he threw it at the wall just under the framed picture he had taken of her on the beach. He saw the picture and just sobbed. He must’ve been sitting there for 2 hours just crying about that magical 3 months with her. He remembered the day she walked out, he’d never cried like that before.
When he finally managed to calm himself down, he sent one final voicemail. “I don’t want your body, that’s not what I miss. I hate to think about you with somebody else.” Short and sweet. With puffy eyes and tears all over his sweater, he went to bed.
The next morning, his eyes looked bloodshot. He could remember the night before a little better than that other night, so knew that he’d cried for a while. He went to the bathroom but didn’t check his phone this time. In a petty attempt to spare himself the shit he’d find on her twitter and Instagram. When he finally did pick up his phone, he had a few texts. Some from his mom and his sister asking if he was okay, and 2 from her.
Harry, you’ve got to stop calling me. We didn’t even date for very long.
Please. I’m trying to move on. You should to.
He didn’t respond to her, but he knew she’d notice he read them. He had his read receipts on, because when they dated, she turned them on, he just didn’t have the heart to turn them off again.
He was hungover, again. He drew a hot bath to try and help ease his tension in his muscles. He knew breakups made him tense and stressed. But this time it was like it was amplified. He’d been in previous relationships, but those breakups were nothing compared to this. He just wished it would all go away. He liked to see the positive things in life and not focus on the negative. But something about losing her brought out this sad, depressed side of him. He’d been wearing the same sweater since she left. It was covered in tears and small splashes of alcohol.
When he got out of the bath, he was a little less tense, but still had a headache like nothing else. He never liked to get shitfaced like that, but it was different when you were grieving. He didn’t give a fuck, frankly. And drinking seemed to distract his sober self from the pain. He looked at her texts again after putting on a clean t shirt. There was no time for buttons when you were this sad and, apparently, clumsy with your alcohol. He soon remembered that she had given him this shirt, which led to his first drink of the day.
All the sudden, he got a call. He would’ve rejected the call and sat around to mope, but it was Niall. A few days ago, he would’ve ignored the call or picked up to give some excuse as to why he couldn’t come over. But for some reason he picked up.
“Hey, Harry, how’s it been going?”
“Fine, I guess” he knew it was a lie, but was curious to see if Niall would see through it.
“I’m coming over, that didn’t sound fine. I know you’ve been depressed about her, I want to get you out of this slump, lad.” Before Harry could say no, Niall had hung up. He and Niall had stayed pretty close since the hiatus, so it was normal for every couple of days they would get together and hang out. Harry just hoped he’d be able to keep himself together for Niall’s sake. He didn’t want to unload his shit all over Niall. But when Niall finally arrived, Harry opened the door and burst into tears.
With no words, Niall came in, and gave him a big hug. He closed the door behind him with his foot so he could comfort Harry.
“I know you miss her, lad.” Harry didn’t say anything for a while, just cried.
When he finally stopped, he apologized, “I’m sorry, Niall, I didn’t mean to unload all over you, I just couldn’t hold it back” Harry sniffled, grabbing tissues from the table by the door and blowing his nose.
“That’s okay, you’ve got to let it out” They walked over to sit on the couch. Niall noticed Harry’s home was a mess. There were empty bottles scattered across the living room and clutter all over the coffee table and bookshelf.
“Harry how long did it take you to drink all this?”
“Dunno, those are from the last couple days, I just couldn’t be bothered to clean them up.” Niall sighed and started tidying up. He’d never seen Harry in such a broken state.
Once the mess of bottles and miscellaneous clutter had been picked up, Niall had an idea. “I think we should clean up anything she left behind, to help you get over this. Just seeing her stuff all the time can’t be good for your mental health, lad.” Harry just sat on the couch staring at his hands.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Harry sighed, staring at the room for a minute before getting up. While he was doing that, Niall had grabbed a box to put it all in. Harry started going around looking for things that were hers or gifts from her. There were mostly pictures of her that he’d taken. Small piles of polaroids all over the bookshelf. He grabbed them and looked through them. Almost immediately regretting it because after the first couple he felt the urge to cry again. They were pictures he’d taken of her on the beach. He wiped away the couple of rogue tears and put the pictures in the box. Niall didn’t say anything because he didn’t know what to say.
“It occurs to me that she gave me this shirt.” Harry took off the shirt and put it in the box. He walked into the bathroom to check for anything of hers. She’d left a toothbrush and a small lotion sitting on the sink that he hadn’t noticed before. He picked up the toothbrush and threw it in the garbage. He didn’t think shed want it back. He put the lotion in the box out on the coffee table and migrated to his bedroom. Most of her stuff was still here, since it had only been about 9 days since she left.
He decided to start with the closet. He opened it and saw the few shirts shed put in there for when she was over. Harry pulled them out of the closet and carefully folded them, putting them in the box. Next was the scarf hanging from the headboard. He picked it up and put it right next to the shirts. Last but not least, that picture. He thought it was the most beautiful picture he’d ever taken. He almost didn’t want to get rid of it. But he knew he had to for his mental health. He pulled it off the wall and set it on the bed. When he finally saw the empty space it left on the wall, he started crying again. He couldn’t help but feel sad seeing the last and final piece of her memory had been removed. All that was left was the hole that the nail left behind.
Niall heard Harry crying from the living room and rushed in to comfort him. When he sat down on the bed, he was careful not to sit on the picture. He didn’t say anything, just hugged Harry to his shoulder and let him cry.
“Let it out, buddy” Niall rubbed Harrys back while he cried. He’d never seen Harry this broken before, but he could see just how in love he was with this girl before they split. He was like a lovesick puppy. He would never shut up about how great she was and how lucky he was to have her in his life. It broke Niall’s heart to see his friend in such bad shape.
They must have sat like that for half an hour when Harry finally calmed down. Niall didn’t care in the slightest that literally all of Harry’s tears were on his shirt. “How about I stay for a couple days and help you through this, yeah?”
“Oh, Niall, I don’t want to burden you-,” Harry was cut off.
“It’s not even an issue, I just gotta run home and grab some stuff. I’ll take this box to her for you so you don’t have to.”
“Are you sure, Niall?”
“Yes. I don’t mind.” Niall grabbed the box of her stuff and headed down to his car.
Harry watched him walk to his car to make sure he got there okay. Niall was one to trip over his feet when he couldn’t see them directly.
Once Niall had gotten to his car safely, Harry grabbed his phone and a bottle and laid on the couch. He decided, against his better judgement, to check her Instagram one last time. Her most recent picture was one of her and that guy kissing on the same beach from the photo hung in the bedroom. Harry sighed and opened the bottle, not taking his eyes off the picture.
He didn’t know how long he’d been staring at the photo drinking, nor did he know how long Niall had been gone for. But Harry jumped when his door opened and Niall walked in with a small backpack. Harry saw it was Niall and looked back at his phone, taking another drink of the, now, half empty bottle. Niall peaked over Harry’s shoulder to see what he was doing. Niall saw the username and snatched the phone out of Harry’s hand.
“Hey! What do you think you’re fuckin doing, mate?” Harry was more startled than angry.
“You can’t keep staring at her photos. It’s not healthy.” Niall said, going to her profile and unfollowing her. He would’ve blocked her, but that wouldn’t stop him from looking, and at least unfollowing her made it harder for him to just get to her profile.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right” Harry said, looking down at the bottle in his hands.
Niall walked past Harry to sit on the couch. “I’ll take that,” Niall said, snatching the bottle out of his hands and putting it on the opposite side of the couch where Harry couldn’t get it. Harry didn’t even flinch. In fact, he barely seemed to give a damn. Niall couldn’t help but notice how detached Harry was.
“I think we should go out tonight. Not drinking, you’ve done plenty of that. But we should go bowling or to a movie or something.” Harry didn’t seem opposed to the idea.
“I think we should go bowling, anything to get my mind off this. I think I’m actually fresh out of tears.” Harry laughed, but it wasn’t super genuine.
It had been about a month since Niall stayed at Harry’s to cheer him up. Harry was certainly doing much better these days. He had even gone out in public and looked exceptionally happy over the last two weeks. He still felt a little sad he’d lost her, but he couldn’t help but think it was for the best. Tonight, he decided to go celebrate with his band. He didn’t know what they were celebrating, but Harry liked being with his band mates.
He’d been talking guitar stuff with Mitch when out of the corner of his eye he saw her. He hadn’t seen her in a month! He almost wanted to go up to her and say something, but even liquid courage couldn’t help him. He just sat and watched her from across the room.
He saw her looking through her phone absent mindedly. But Harry had noticed that same guy from the pictures a month ago walking over to her with two shots. He couldn’t help but feel jealous, but happy. Happy that she’d found a guy who would make her happy, but jealous it wasn’t him. He watched as they took the shots and gathered their things. He watched them leave and felt the urge to go after her. But he didn’t, he decided to let her go finally. It was like the universe was giving him the closure he needed to live his life again.
He sent her one final text. He made it poetic because that’s just who he was. That was evident by his tweets.
Our love has gone cold. I’m happy you’re intertwining your soul with somebody else. All the love. H xx