Pairing: Harry Styles/Nick Grimshaw

Rating: General Audiences

Triggers: None

I woke up sad and I decided to channel my emotions into writing angsty Gryles so that's all that this is.

I hope you enjoy xx

Harry feels sick when he looks up and sees him. His heart sinks into his stomach, and for a brief moment, he honestly thinks he might faint. The world continues to spin rapidly around him, but he is stuck in this moment; the whiplash of the unexpected halt resonates up his spine and into his brain as he tries to process the fact that he's in the same room with his former lover.

"Harry...you alright darling?" Camille asks, her gentle touch to his shoulder barely registering through the barrage of sensations that he's currently experiencing.

Harry nods numbly in response without truly hearing what his girlfriend is saying. He's not okay - not even close, but he can't take his eyes off the person who has captured his interest for long enough to reassure her of that fact.

It's Nick who has so thoroughly ensnared his attention - of course it is. His brown hair is styled into its usual quiff, his teeth glint white against his lips as he smiles easily, his hands waving about while he greets the people around him. It's been over a year since Harry has last seen him in person, but he hasn't aged a day.

Harry should have known he'd be here. It's the Brits after all, but still - he hadn't been prepared to see him. That's why he's been hiding in LA and Japan...anywhere that's not London really.

It's been ages since he last spoke to Nick...since he left him. Harry's supposed to be over him now, he was the one who called things off when he realized that he couldn't be what Nick needs, but god - just the sight of him hurts more than he'd expected it too.

"I - I'm going to run to the loo," Harry spits out when he realizes that Camille is shooting him a confused look. He can't explain what's running through his head, not without admitting that Nick means so much more to him then he'd previously told her, and this is neither the time nor the place for that. "I'll be right back."

Harry doesn't wait for her to reply before he rushes off. He snaps open another button on his shirt as he goes, hoping to combat the sudden swell of heat that's leaving him dizzy and nauseous. He falls to his knees the second he gets in front of the toilet, a weak gasp filling his lungs before he's dry heaving noisily.

Tears fill his eyes as Harry tries to regain control of himself. He's being ridiculous, he knows that, but logic and emotions rarely line up, especially not when Nick is involved.

Harry hadn't thought it would be this bad to see him again, that's why he accepted the invitation to the Brits in the first place. He knows he's not ever going to be truly over Nick, but at least he can hear his voice on the radio now without feeling as if a knife is being twisted inside of his chest, and he doesn't dream about him nearly as often as he first did. He still misses Nick so much it aches, but he'd assumed that enough time had passed to numb the desperate longing he'd always felt for the other man.

Harry's mind rewinds to the day he'd first met Nick - properly at least. It had been here, at the Brits years ago, back when he'd still been in One Direction. That seems so long ago now...it was really. He had no idea what he was in for; he only knew that he fancied Nick and he hoped the older man felt the same. He hadn't known he'd fall in love with him, that he'd become his everything in a few short years, or that he would lose him in the end.

Harry isn't that fresh-faced teenager anymore, no - he's in his mid-twenties and he's just released his second solo album. He's grown up, both physically and mentally. A part of that process involved coming to the conclusion that he isn't what Nick wants. It doesn't matter how smitten they are with each other, because at the end of the day, he can't make Nick truly happy due to the lifestyle he's chosen to maintain. He knows all this - he's accepted it, but then why does the mere sight of him have Harry feeling physically ill?

Harry forces himself to stand up, hating himself for his irrational reaction to seeing someone who really should be just another ex while making his way over to the sink so he can splash cool water on his face. Nick will always be more than that though; Harry's never loved anyone the way he loves him, but that's exactly why he did what he did.

He won't let himself pine, not when he was the one who left Nick even when he begged Harry to stay. Another round of tears fills Harry's eyes when his brain replays the desperate longing in Nick's voice, how he'd pleaded with Harry to give them another chance, promising that he'd stop pushing for marriage and kids, that he was content with the way things were.

That was when Harry knew he had to leave. Nick deserves the world, and Harry can't give it to him. He thought going solo would allow him to have more time to himself, more time for Nick, but he quickly discovered that he was just as busy as he always was. He was never home enough, could never promise Nick that he'd be around more than a week or two in advance, god - he'd even missed his last Breakfast show.

Harry's a shit boyfriend, and he'd have been an even worse husband. He can't condemn Nick in that fashion; he refuses to leave him at home with a kid and nothing but a certificate to remind him that he's married, which Harry knows is what would happen eventually, no matter how hard he tries to make things work.

So he'd left. It had hurt, but he'd ripped himself away from Nick like a plaster so the sting didn't register straight away. He had thrown himself into his music and reconnected with Camille who had no problems with his schedule. He didn't love her the way he should, but he was happy - sort of.

Nick seems to be doing fine as well, not that Harry was checking up on him - except he does more often than he'll ever admit. He's with someone too now, Harry forgets his name, but they seem made for each other judging by the pictures Nick constantly posts on his Instagram.

Yet somehow, seeing Nick here hurts more than their initial breakup ever did. A soft whimper slips from his mouth when Harry considers going back out there and having to face him again.

He can't do this - not yet. So Harry escapes out the back for a smoke. It's a terrible habit, one he's picked up in the past year for reasons that most likely have to do with his split from Nick since the smell always reminds Harry of him, but he tells himself that's not it at all.

The cool air that rushes over him as he retreats away from the building is a blessing to Harry's overheated skin. He inhales deeply, dragging the chill into his lungs before he fills them with smoke. He already has a cigarette in his shaking hand, but he can't seem to find a lighter among his numerous pockets. He's so busy searching for the slender device, he barely notices the door opening, only looking up when he feels another presence close behind him.

"Need a light?" a familiar voice asks softly. Harry's chest tightens instantly as he turns slowly, his gaze landing on none other than Nick Grimshaw, the one person he'd come out here to get away from.

"Nick..."

Harry allows himself a brief moment to drink in the sight of Nick up close. He's gorgeous, always has been, although he appears to have lost weight since their separation. Harry's breath hitches painfully when he spies what appears to be a bruise peeking out from the collar of his shirt, the reminder that someone else now marks his skin ripping into him so sharply Harry briefly wonders if he's in need of actual medical attention.

"Hey Styles," Nick responds. His voice is brittle, careful, so unlike the cheerful tone he used to carry during their old conversations. "Didn't know you smoked."

"I -" Harry can't finish his sentence, he doesn't even know what he's trying to say.

"It's fine of course," Nick continues when Harry remains silent. "Not being the pot calling the kettle black or anything, just surprised I guess. Thought you always hated the taste."

Harry has to swallow back the lump in his throat before he can reply, his mind conjuring up images of him complaining of the acrid flavor when Nick would kiss him directly after smoking. "Guess I changed my mind," he chokes out.

"Huh...not the first time that's happened," Nick attempts to joke weakly.

"Don't...please," Harry whimpers. A stabbing pain in his gut almost brings him to his knees when he catches onto the fact that Nick is talking about them.

"I'm an arse, just ignore me."

"I - I didn't change my mind on you, you know that," Harry presses on, the words falling from his mouth before he can shut himself up. He knows nothing he says will fix things, but he so desperately wants to try. "It - I couldn't...it wasn't fair. I already explained..."

"I know, that was low of me," Nick instantly apologizes. "My sense of humor has gotten bitter lately, but it's fine, yeah? We're both happier now..." Nick doesn't sound happier though, and it's that fact that has Harry's self-control shattering. A rush of tears slips down his cheeks without warning, and there's nothing Harry can do to stop them once they've started. "Oh god, Haz - don't cry."

"I - I'm sorry," Harry gasps. "I didn't mean - I...I..."

"I don't want you sad love, please don't do this," Nick begs.

Harry only cries harder when he hears Nick call him love. He doesn't mean it of course, it's just an expression, but the selfish side of Harry truly wishes that he still loved him. Nick moves closer to Harry when he fails to regain his composure, his hands clenching at his sides like he has no idea what to do with them. Harry would give anything to feel his fingers running through his curls, or clutching onto his wrist, but that's not something he's allowed to ask for anymore.

"You can go," Harry spits out. "I'm fine. It's just a lot...seeing you again, but I'm okay. I don't want to cause a scene."

"You aren't...I just - why are you crying?" Nick asks bluntly, his fingers tugging at the ends of his jacket as he voices his question. "I don't understand."

"I wish I knew," Harry laughs self-deprecatingly, although the answer is obvious, he just doesn't want to voice it. "Guess I'm just a bit emotional tonight."

"Oh..."

Whatever else Nick is going to say is cut off by the back door opening once again. Harry and Nick spring apart like they've been caught doing something illegal, the rift between them manifesting itself as a tearing sensation in Harry's heart.

"There you are love," another voice speaks up, one that Harry hasn't heard before, but judging by the way Nick's face lights up like it used to do for him, this is his new boyfriend. "You coming back in? Rita is asking for you."

"Yeah - soz, got distracted," Nick answers readily. He turns his back on Harry completely as he faces his boyfriend, allowing Harry to wipe at his damp face hurriedly before the other man notices his tears. "I'll be right in."

"Don't be too long," he adds on, pressing a quick kiss to Nick's cheek before he disappears back inside, ignoring Harry completely much to his relief.

"Are you going to be alright?" Nick asks when he turns back to Harry who is trying to fade into the shadows surrounding them.

"Yeah - course," Harry nods instinctually. It's a lie, but that's fine. He dug his own grave a year ago, and it's just now hitting him that he's going to lie in it alone and unloved for the rest of his life.

"Good...um, I'm going to go back in. Here's my lighter though." Nick pushes the object into Harry's numb hands before he can protest. "Don't worry about returning it, I've got loads."

"Thank you," Harry mumbles, his tongue stumbling over the words since what he really wants to say is 'I'm still in love with you'.

"No worries, just take care of yourself, yeah?" Nick smiles although the expression doesn't quite meet his eyes. "I'll see you around then."

Nick strides inside before Harry can formulate a proper goodbye, which is fortuitous considering the fact that he might snap if he has to fake another grin. The second the door closes behind Nick, Harry lets himself crumble against the sidewalk, uncaring of any stains his white trousers might accumulate from the ground. He just can't hold himself up any longer, everything hurts too much.

He'll be fine though, he has to be - he has no other choice. He just needs a moment to wallow out of the public eye before he goes back inside and pretends that he doesn't have a care in the world.

He takes the time to peer at the lighter Nick had given him, although his urge for a cigarette is completely gone now. The plastic object is blue, and there's a word on it that Harry can't quite make out in the dim lighting. When he shifts the lighter under the streetlamp so he can get a better look at it, he wishes he'd thrown it away without ever examining it.

Because it says enjoy - of course it does.

It's ironic how that happy word has Harry sobbing brokenly into the crook of his arm, but now he associates it with sadness, with loss, with the love he doesn't deserve, but most of all with the memories of his love for Nick that will always sting - no matter how much time has passed.

Just in case you didn't know, Harry bought Nick a neon sign that says enjoy.

Nick kept it in his house for years over various moves and it became a sort of Gryles symbol hence the meaning with the lighter.

Thank you for reading.

I love you all xxx

- starr