(No Control | Holding Me Ransom - 29 - Two Steps Far From You)

"I'm getting to it," I sigh, sadly. "I have to tell you everything in the order it happened, so you understand it all." 

She watches me, and rubs her hands nervously on her thighs. I take a deep breath and continue.

"There were paps outside the hotel when I got into the car. I knew then that Sara would have been papped too, and it would only be a matter of time before the story broke. I wanted to call you, but I was so fucking scared, Jess. You were the one person I needed right then, and you were the one person I couldn't call. I knew you'd be devastated. I can't even begin to explain how I was feeling. I've never, ever been unfaithful to anyone in my life. I had no intentions of ever being unfaithful to you. I honestly couldn't believe I'd done it."

I can feel my lip trembling again at the memory of the despair I felt that day. I swallow the lump in my throat and try to focus on facts, rather than feelings, in an attempt to make this easier on both of us.

"I called Karen from the car, and told her everything. She couldn't believe it either. She literally yelled at me for five minutes solid. Not just about the drugs, but about being unfaithful to you."

Jess averts her eyes but I carry on. I know she's listening. 

"She asked me why I'd done it, but I didn't have an answer. By the time I came off the phone I was about to have a breakdown. I was sitting in the back of the car crying like a fucking child. We got to the airport but my flight wasn't for several hours - we were really early because I'd just wanted to get out of the hotel. I sat in the private lounge literally in a daze. Karen called me back and said the photos would be on the Daily Mail any moment, along with the story, and she couldn't do anything about it because all they'd done was print the pictures of us hugging goodbye, and the pictures of us leaving the hotel. I knew I had to ring you before you saw the article, but I put it off - I knew once I made the call that would be it, you would be out of my life forever and I couldn't bear that thought. I couldn't even call Mum or Gemma because I couldn't face their disappointment, so I called Louis instead and told him everything."

Fucking hell. You absolute fucking dickhead. Why'd you do that? Did you have a row with Jess?  And you had the cheek to have a go at me for thinking with my dick.

"He was speechless, for about five seconds. Then he yelled at me for being a dıckhead, and yelled at me again when I said I had to confess everything to you. He said I could get away with it and say the paps made a story out of nothing."

Two words: damage limitation. There have been enough made up stories about you. Tell her this is another one of them. Just have your fucking happy ending. 

"But I couldn't lie to you again, not about that," I tell her. "I had to face up to it, even though I knew you'd hate me and our relationship would be over."  

In a weird way it feels good to be getting this off my chest. Although I feel emotionally drained, I also feel as though a weight is slowly being lifted from my shoulders. For the first time in months I am able to breathe freely, without the chain of dishonesty around my neck.

"Eventually I had to bite the bullet and call you." I look up at her face. She is watching me unblinkingly, and I know I have her full attention. "You broke my heart, Jess. I was expecting you to scream at me, but you didn't. You said -" 

My voice wavers as I remember the conversation.

I trust you, Harry.

"You said, 'I trust you, Harry.'"

My voice cracks with emotion and I cover my face with my hand. I'm embarrassed to be crying in front of her, when I am the one who messed up.

"You trusted me," I manage to say, and my words sound thick and muffled. "After everything I did, you'd seen the pictures and you trusted me anyway. That broke me."

"Yeah, well, I was wrong, wasn't I?" she sneers, bitterly. "I was wrong to trust you."

"Yes," I agree, sadly. "You were. I should never have put myself in that situation. It was my fault, all of it. I brought it on myself."

"What are you talking about?" she demands. I can sense she is losing patience: with me, and with this story.

"It was a long chain of events," I explain. "I'm getting there, just bear with me."

"Maybe I'm fed up of bearing with you!" she yells furiously, and gets to her feet so she can put some distance between us. "You can't just turn up here and expect me to sit here and listen to all these cryptic clues, trying to make sense of all this! You do this every time, Harry!"

"I know," I acknowledge, hanging my head. "I'm trying to be honest with you. There is so much to it Jess, and it's all important, I promise."

She glares at me, folding her arms across her chest.

"Well maybe I'm bored of listening to it," she says bluntly. "Maybe I'm bored of this whole dramatic episode in my life. Maybe I'm just trying to move on, but you keep appearing, uninvited, trying to drag me back down again." 

I smother a smirk at her Drag Me Down reference. Now is not the time to tease her about her fangirl ways. Although I feel a pang of nostalgia at the fond memories I have of relaxed familiarity, and Harry Styles moments. What I wouldn't give for one of those right now.

"You need to hear this," I say, without thinking, and immediately I realise I have said the wrong thing. It's like lighting the blue touch paper.

"Why are you so convinced you know what I need?!" she spits, scornfully. "Has it ever crossed your self-obsessed mind that maybe I don't need any more of your shit? Did it ever occur to you, even for one second, that maybe I don't need to know why you felt the need to ride the cockhorse to Banbury Cross on your little jaunt to New York, and that maybe, just maybe, I didn't want to see you today?"

I open my mouth with the intention of defending myself, but no words come. She doesn't wait for them anyway, but barrels on.

"No, because you never stop to think about what I want, do you?! You're so used to everybody bowing down before you, and obeying your every whim, that it doesn't even enter your head to ask me whether I want my life turned upside down by your whirlwind again!" 

Everything is handed to you on a diamond encrusted plate because you are Harry Styles from One Direction. You're so used to clicking your fingers and everybody jumping that you've lost touch with the real world!

I swallow nervously, my heart pounding again at these familiar words. Why does everyone keep accusing me of demonstrating a sense of entitlement all the time? I'm not like that; I've never been like that. That's not me.

Is it?

"You asked me, repeatedly, to meet up with you," she is ranting. "I told you, repeatedly, that I didn't want to. But did that stop you? NO! You went against my wishes and just turned up here to see me, because the great Harry Styles knows best! No one ever says no to you, do they? So when someone, i.e. me, does say no, it doesn't even register with you! You just charge in anyway, destroying everything in your wake and expect me just to accept it! Oh, so Harry thinks I need to know the truth? Well I'll have to know it then, won't I, if he says so!" She hurls these last two sentences at me mockingly and then pauses for a moment, panting from adrenaline. But all I can do is stare at her openmouthed while she tears my character apart piece by piece, throwing every well-meaning gesture in my face and using it as ammunition against me.

"It's always been the same, Harry! You flit in and out of my life whenever it suits you, and just expect me to go along with it. You turn up at my parents' house when I ignore your calls. You turn up at my flat after I tell you to leave me alone. You turn up at my office in London when I tell you I don't want to stay friends, and not content with that, you drive all the way to bloody Cardiff to force me to see you! You can't have your own way all the time! You need to learn that is not how relationships work!"

That's not how it was. That's not what I thought. I'm not trying to force her... I just wanted her to understand...

"Jess," I begin. "Jess, I'm so sorry... I didn't think..."

"That's the whole problem!" she screams, and I snap my mouth shut at her fury. "You never do! You just do what you want and everyone else has to fall in with it!"

"Now hang on, that's not fair," I interrupt. "I'm not like that - you know I'm not."

I don't expect everyone else to go along with what I want. Do I?

"You're exactly like that!" she rages. "You don't even realise you're doing it! Well I am sick of it, Harry. I'm sick of being your little puppet that you think you can control! I should never have agreed to talk to you, and I am telling you now I want you to leave!"

That's over the line. In fact, I'm going to go as far as to say that's utter bullshit. Not out loud, but in my head I will say it. It's BULLSHIT.

"Where is all this coming from?" I ask. "I've never treated you that way. I know I messed everything up in New York, but you're bringing up the past and twisting it to use against me, and that isn't fair."

"No, I'll tell you what isn't fair!" she shouts, pointing her finger at me. Her hands are shaking. "When your boyfriend makes you fall in love with him and then the first chance he gets he fucks a rake behind your back and then makes you relive every detail when you're trying to get over him!"

Trying to get over him... Is she not..?

No - focus.

"I'm trying to explain what happened!" I shout back, losing patience. "It wasn't your fault! It was all down to me, because I put my trust in the wrong people, and I let you down! If you'd just stop screaming at me for five minutes and let me finish, you'll understand!"

Oops - shouldn't be telling her off. That's not going to get her to listen to me.

"I don't want to understand!" she protests, and I'm sure I see her stamp her foot discreetly. "I'm quite happy in blissful ignorance, thank you! You should understand that term - the model you traded me in for is probably on that same intellectual level."

"Why are you being like this?" I yell, beginning to lose control of my temper. "I'm trying to do the right thing and all you're doing is throwing it back in my face! This isn't the Jess I fell in love with!"

"Yes and ask yourself why!" she literally screams in my face. "You ruined me, Harry! You ruined me with your lies and your runaway dick! You did this. You broke my trust, and you can't fix it."

She knows exactly which buttons to press, and even though I know she is picking a fight because she needs an excuse to scream at me, I can't stop myself from rising to the bait.

"Your trust was never there to start with," I scoff. "You always thought the worst of me, every single time. Maybe I finally got fed up and gave you a real reason!"

Fuck. Why did I say that? Why do I always lash out when I am hurting?

"Did you?" she asks in a whisper, her eyes wide in horror. "Is that why you did it?"

"No - of course not," I mutter, humbly. "I never should have said that. I'm sorry."

"Is it any wonder I don't trust you when you throw things like that in my face?" she snarls. "I will never trust you. I would always be wondering what you're doing when you're away from me, and that's not healthy. I couldn't live like that."

Her words are sobering, and ring true. I sigh, feeling the anger ebbing away and the deep, bone-chilling sadness returning as resignation sets in. 

"You did trust me though, once," I remember. "The one time I let you down was the one time you had faith in me."

"More fool me," she retorts, with a bitter laugh.

"Don't say that," I plead.

The one person who sees me for who I am, other than my family, has finally lost faith in me. And it's all my own fault.

"It's the truth!" she squeals. "I am so sick of you ruining my life, Harry! Your shagging around, your cryptic instagram pictures, your let's-be-friends text messages and this whole fucking mystery surrounding New York! I don't want to listen to it anymore! I want out, OK? I want out!"

Her voice breaks again and she sinks onto the bed, sobbing, as if the fight has suddenly left her. I can't stop myself from wrapping my arms around her, trying to soothe her pain. The feel of her smooth, soft skin against mine, the familiar scent of her tropical shampoo that smells like home and the gentle warmth from her small body in my embrace are all stark reminders of how much I have lost. I had promised myself that today wasn't about trying to win her back, but who was I kidding? Of course I want her back, and I was a fool to think I could switch my feelings off long enough to give her the facts without being pulled back into the black hole of regret.

"Don't, Harry," she protests weakly, her tears soaking into my shirt as she rests her head against me and cries. I tighten my grip around her; not to restrain her but to try and hold her together as she quietly falls apart in my arms. 

Eventually her sobs subside and she lifts her head to look at me before she speaks. "See what I mean? I tell you not to, and you do it anyway."

I do see. I get it. She doesn't want me to comfort her and she hates herself for letting me. I was what she needed just then, and she resents me for it. If only she understood that I am battling with myself too; wishing I could be happy without her, wanting nothing more than to set her free to get on with her life and be happy without me, but at the same time knowing I am never going to be able to get over her because she is my life, my soul, my reason to breathe.

"Did it ever cross your mind that sometimes you don't know what you need until it's standing in front of you?" I ask her sadly before I can stop myself, wishing that just for a moment I could stop loving her, if only to gain some clarity and perspective. But all I see is her, all I want is her, all I am is her, and I know in my heart that will never change.