(No Control | Holding Me Ransom - 32 - The Consequences Of Falling Out)

I don't really know what I'm expecting from her by way of a response. She pulls her hands out of mine and drops her head down, staring at the floor in silence.

"Say something," I plead.

"I don't even know what to say," she says, without even a trace of emotion. "This has completely blindsided me."

"I'm sorry," I sigh.

I'm sorry that this piece of information was what blindsided her, when it should have been the most obvious thing in the world.

"You're not," she retorts. "If you were sorry, you would have told me about this sooner, instead of letting me think our relationship meant nothing." 

OK, fair point. I have handled this badly, but I've never been in this situation before. Thankfully I've never encountered a psycho ex-girlfriend with a penchant for undercover narcotics, or ended up under the influence of said narcotics without my knowledge. Neither have I been unfaithful before.

"You wouldn't have let me think I had made a complete fool of myself by throwing myself at you," she continues, her voice rising." You wouldn't have let me think you didn't care at all, and you wouldn't have spoken to me like I was a piece of shit on the phone the day after Libertine!"

She's yelling at me by the end of this, and I'm ashamed to admit I wasn't expecting to face her wrath after confessing my feelings for her, even though I deserve it for what I did. I hadn't really thought about it in this way before. Her view of things has put a different spin on it.

"I was furious that you'd kissed Louis the night before," I explain. "I'd not long found out what Nadine had done, and I had wanted to tell you at my hotel. When I woke up and found you gone, I..." 

My breath catches in my throat as I relive that moment, and the subsequent showdown with Louis. I remember wanting to hit him, to hurt him. I'm not proud of those feelings. There are some things she doesn't need to know.

"Well, it doesn't matter," I mutter. "I was just upset that you'd ended up sleeping with me but only hours earlier you'd been kissing Louis."

You're all over the internet. You and Louis. Some pap with a long-range camera got a picture of you. It's not a very clear picture, but it's pretty obvious what you're doing.  

It is my own words that come back to me this time.

"I was angry and humiliated and I shouldn't have shouted at you the way I did," I say humbly. "I just felt like I couldn't trust anyone anymore. Nadine had shown her true colours, and then you'd gone behind my back as well..." I feel a twist of loneliness in my stomach that I push away impatiently. I can't allow myself to imagine what will happen if she sends me away after all this is finally out in the open.

"When you hung up on me I was a mess," I admit. "I was shaking. My whole world was crumbling around me, just like I'd said it would; like I knew it would. I was so angry with you, but it came from hurt, not hate. I'd just about calmed down when you called me back, and I thought..." 

My cheeks flush at this next memory, of sitting in the airport with Niall and thinking she might be calling back to sort things out.

"I thought you were calling to apologise about Louis," I mumble. "I was going to apologise too, and ask you if you would see me again, so I could explain things. But you just went off on one. You started accusing me of setting you up with the paps, of hiding my real self from you all along... I couldn't believe you would think that about me. Your words cut deep. I was so hurt. You'd worked it all out, but you were blaming the wrong person. The whole thing had been a set up: Nadine coming to our bar in New York, giving Jason that drug, and also Karen tipping off the paps outside Libertine that night. But it was nothing to do with me, I promise you."

She has been silent since her rant, letting me talk freely. I look up at her and she looks drained.

"Why didn't you fight for us?" she asks in a whisper.

"Because I'm an idiot," I answer truthfully.

"Well, I won't argue with that."

Ouch. Still sassy.

"I couldn't see what was staring me in the face," I begin.

"Which was?" she prompts, with a hint of attitude.

"That I am hopelessly, helplessly in love with you and I should never have let you go."

There. I've said it.

My hands are shaking and a trickle of sweat runs down my back. I'm laying myself wide open to her, and I'm fucking terrified. Yet she looks surprisingly unmoved by this confession.

"I can't process this," she says eventually, with a shake of her head. "It's too much. You can't just turn up here out of the blue like this, uninvited, and land all this on me."

She's quoting Adele. Should I be worried?

Out loud I say, "I know, I'm sorry. I wish there had been another way to tell you all this, but I didn't know what else to do." I sigh and look up at her face. "You were refusing to see me, you were barely answering my texts... I didn't know you weren't in London, but once I realised where you were I just thought... I dunno...."

I trail off, as I realise that the compassion that was in her eyes only a couple of minutes ago has now disappeared.

"You thought you'd just follow me here - despite me asking you to leave me alone - and force me to listen to you?" she says bluntly.

"No!" I protest, and then realise this is exactly what I have just done. "Well... yeah, I suppose, but you make it sound awful when you put it like that."

"No, Harry!" she hisses, enraged again all of a sudden. "I don't make it sound anything. It is awful! I'm trying to move on with my life and you turn up on my doorstep with this crazy story about how you were duped into taking some weird sex drug, which is supposed to explain why you cheated on me, and that you actually loved me all along, and still do, despite telling me you didn't!"

I thought we covered this?

"I never actually said -" I begin, but she interrupts me with a growl of fury.

"You led me to believe you didn't love me!" she shouts. "You didn't correct me when you knew that's what I thought! It's the same thing!" 

Fuck, she's getting really angry. I don't know how to calm her down. Everything I say is wrong.

"I'm so sorry," I say softly. "I don't know how to fix this. The whole thing started with one little white lie, and snowballed out of control before I could stop it."

"A little white lie. How fucking ironic."

I can't entertain the reference to the night we met. Not when it is used against me like this, as a memory to be scoffed at rather than remembered with fondness.

Tears are slipping down her cheeks again, and in a way I am glad. I don't want her to be unhappy, of course I don't. But at least she is showing her emotion. I didn't know how to deal with indifferent Jess, blasé Jess, over-Harry-Styles Jess.

"I should have told you Nadine wanted to meet up," I acknowledge. "I should have told you about Louis' baby, and what effect it would have on everything. That was the start of it all. If I could go back and change it, I would."

"Yes," she sniffs. "Yes, you should have told me. But you didn't. You didn't trust me, or you didn't think I would understand, or you couldn't be bothered. Whatever your reasons were, they don't matter now. What's done is done."

My stomach drops at the finality of her words. What does she mean? She can't walk away from me now, surely? This can't be over.

"Don't say that," I beg, feeling a lump rising quickly in my throat.

"It's too late, Harry," she cries, ignoring the flow of tears down her face. "I can't trust you. Not just because you slept with someone else, but because you weren't honest with me, before that even happened." 

NO. No, she can't be saying this, not after everything we've been through.

"And afterwards, when I offered you another chance to work things out, you threw it back in my face," she sobs. "You didn't fight for us. You didn't fight for me. You were happy to let me go, and that's what hurts. I could possibly have got over the infidelity in time, given the circumstances. But it was everything else that came with it, before and after, that broke me."

My eyes are filling with tears now, and I can't stop them. I can't believe this is over. She can't walk away from me. How can I stop her walking away?

"Jess," I choke, with no idea what else I am going to say. I look into her eyes and she meets my gaze briefly before she looks away.

"I'm sorry, Harry. It's over. It was over since before you went to New York. I just didn't know it."

I think my heart just broke. I can feel the pain in my chest.

I can't stop a sob rising, and I look down at the floor so she won't see me cry.

"You'll be fine," she chokes. "There are millions of women out there queueing up to go out with you. You won't be on the shelf for long. You could probably find someone within five minutes, if you really wanted."

Is she joking? She thinks this will be solved by finding someone else? If it were that easy I could have moved on months ago. Has she heard nothing I've been saying?

"I don't want anyone else," I protest, trying to swallow my tears, and succeeding only in sounding pathetic and weak. "I only want you. I love you. And I'm so sorry for hurting you."

"Stop apologising," she says, wiping tears from her eyes with her fingers. "I know you're sorry. But no amount of sorry will rebuild the trust. It's gone, and without it our relationship is nothing."

The worst part of this is that it is true. We have nothing if we don't have trust. I'm devastated.

"I know," I reply, and my voice sounds strangled. "And I know it's me who has done this."

"It's not just you," she sighs. "I struggled from the start to trust you, and that wasn't your fault. I'm as much to blame for that side of things."

"I wish it were different." 

I wish my life were different. I wish I were different. I wish I could have been the person she deserves.

"So do I," she says sadly, turning back to face me with tears running down her soft cheeks.

I look down at the floor again. I can't bear her to see my pain if she isn't going to be the one to ease it.

"Has there been anyone else?" she asks timidly. "Since me?"

"No. No one." 

I have snot all down my face. I must look deeply unattractive right now. 

"It made me sick that the last time I'd had sex was when I'd ruined our relationship by being unfaithful to you," I explain. "I was so desperate to make love to you that night in the hotel... I just wanted you to be the last person I'd been with, even if it was going to be for the last time."

That sounds terrible, and selfish, and disgusting. 

"I know that was really selfish of me," I acknowledge, hearing the tremor in my own voice, "but honestly, Jess, I was desperate. I'm so sorry."

She is so close to me, she is within reaching distance. Almost subconsciously I stretch out to her and she comes to me, letting me pull her into my arms in my sitting position on this chair, so she is standing in between my legs and my cheek is pressed against her tummy. She slides her arms delicately around my shoulders and I squeeze my eyes shut and hold her tightly, praying silently that she will change her mind about me, about us.

"I missed you so much," I confess, but to my disappointment she says nothing, but remains still in my arms. I don't push her for a response, but take a moment to breathe in her subtle perfume and indulge in the familiarity of this embrace.

"Jess," I whisper, after we have been quiet for over a minute. "Can we... could we at least stay friends? We don't have to be close, if you don't want, but... but I dunno, just like maybe say hi every now and again and stuff?"

She withdraws from me, and I look up at her with trepidation.

"I don't think that's a good idea, do you?" she says, not unkindly. "Don't you think a clean break might be better for us both?"

No. I don't. I can't imagine another hour without her, never mind the rest of my life.

"I don't want to lose you from my life completely," I mumble, looking down and wiping my face. "I hate the thought of not being able to text you, or maybe even call you occasionally, or you could call me..."

I'm clutching at straws and I have a horrible feeling she is trying to let me down gently.

"I don't want to give you the wrong idea," she says. "I'm not changing my mind on this, Harry. It wouldn't be fair to let you think otherwise."

OK, I can feel a hint of panic rising in my chest at what she is saying. I can't let her walk away from me. I can't lose her. I can't.

"Why don't you let me worry about that?" I try.

"Because I'm not going to hurt you knowingly," she says, with trace of desperation.

"You wouldn't be," I dismiss quickly. "I know I've done most of the talking tonight but believe me, I have also been listening. I've listened more than I ever have, I think."

I know I need to make this up to her. I know I have taken her for granted. I know I have ignored what she said she wanted. But I have only been so pushy because I needed her to understand.

"I want to make this right, Jess," I say firmly. "I will do whatever you want, if it means there's the faintest chance that you... that we..." I hesitate at the look on her face.

"That we what, Harry?" she asks cautiously.

"That we might be able to give things another go."

It's out of my mouth before I can stop it.

"That isn't going to happen," she says with a resigned sigh.

Why? Why isn't it?

The panic is rising again.

"I just want the chance to show you I'm worthy of you," I tell her, clutching at straws, desperate to stop her from cutting me out of her life.

"Worthy of me?" she scoffs. The sass is back. "This isn't the sixteenth century. I'm not some fair maiden waiting for a knight in shining armour to come and rescue me." 

My face breaks into an involuntary grin. If only she knew I had written her a song with these very words.

"What's so funny?" 

"Well, I might never be your knight in shining armour..." I couldn't resist, alright? Sue me.

"Why are you being weird?" she asks dubiously, and I can't help laughing softly, even though nothing is really funny about this situation. I have to laugh, or else I will cry.

"Sorry," I apologise, wiping the last of the tears from my eyes. "I just like causing trouble up in hotel rooms."

She doesn't get the reference, of course, and I wonder if she will remember this conversation when she hears Perfect for the first time, and whether she will make the connection and understand it is written for her, about her.

She's rolling her eyes again, and I force myself to stop pratting around and be serious.

"I mean it," I tell her. "I don't want to give up on us this time. I know you're saying you won't change your mind, and I respect that. I won't pressure you for anything you don't want, I promise. Like I said, I have listened. I'm just asking to be in your life in whatever capacity you want."

I mean, what does she expect me to do, just delete her number and leave her today forever? Just like that?

"I... I just... I don't think it's a good idea, Harry," she stammers, and there is a finality to her tone that rests in the pit of my stomach like a dead weight.

It hits me that this is exactly what she wants. She wants me gone.

"Oh," I say, because I don't know what else to say.

"I'm sorry," she says desperately. "I just know from experience that we do nothing but hurt each other. I can't put myself through that all over again. I'm trying to get over you but you make that really difficult when you are ever-present in my life. The only way I can move on and be happy is if you let me. You've done it once - you shouldn't find it too hard."

Her tone is bitter as she throws these last words at me. How can she think this was easy for me? Has she heard nothing I said to her?

"I found it impossible," I try to argue, but my voice is flat and expressionless. "Hence why I am here now."

"I'm sorry," she repeats, and there is a new strength to her words. "I'm not doing this for revenge, or for attention, or to hurt you. I'm doing it because I think it's the right thing for both of us."

I am surprised to discover my cheeks are wet again. I didn't realise I was crying.

"Don't you love me?" I ask, abandoning all chill.

"It doesn't matter - it's not enough," she sighs.

"That's not an answer," I interrupt, losing a bit of patience. "I've been completely truthful with you tonight. I've told you everything, laid myself bare to you. The least you can do is answer one question honestly."

"Why torture ourselves with it?" she asks, almost to herself.

"Because I need to know," I declare, hearing the strength in my own voice now, too. "I've told you how I feel. I get that it won't make a difference to anything, but it matters to me." 

She says nothing.

"Jess," I say firmly, and finally she makes eye contact. "Do you love me?" I ask again.

I can see her eyes are filled with tears, and I realise it doesn't matter what her answer is, if the end result is us parting ways for good. But I wait, and she delivers it anyway.

"Yes. But it isn't enough."

I nod, defeated, as I understand that we have finally reached the end of the road. I can't force her to forgive me. If she loves me but she still wants me out of her life, it means I have broken her beyond anything I can repair, and I owe it to her to respect her decision and leave her be.

I stand up, my legs carrying me towards her as though pulled by an invisible force, and I know she won't recoil from me because this is our last embrace. This is goodbye.

I wrap my arms around her and she relaxes against me, breathing in deeply, her face buried in my chest. I rest my chin on the top of her head, the tropical scent of her shampoo sadly reminiscent of happier times, before baby revelations, before white powder, before bad decisions and infidelity. I stroke her hair gently, threading it between my fingers and remembering the silky feel of it against my arm the first night we met. If only we could go back to that moment, knowing what we know now... there is so much I would do differently, yet so much I would gladly do all over again.

Tears drip from the bottom of my cheeks onto her hair, and I can feel her body shaking with silent sobs. My heart is breaking for both of us. She deserves better than this. We should have had it all, but I messed it up to the point where it can never be fixed.

I don't want to outstay my welcome in her arms, so eventually I release my hold on her and lift my head and she pulls back from me.

"I should go," I mutter.

"OK," she says.

I check my phone without really seeing it, pick up my keys without really feeling them, tuck my sunglasses into the neck of my shirt without really knowing why. I'm going through the motions, pretending everything is normal, while my life is unravelling from the inside.

"Take care, Jess," I say, stupidly.

"You too," she says, and I detect a slight tremor in her voice, a hint of weakness.

On impulse, I lean down and kiss her softly on the lips, knowing she won't push me away this one last time, and hating myself for using this to my advantage. Our tears mingle on our cheeks, warm and salty, and her hands reach up to cup my face tenderly. The affection is too much to bear.

I pull away and rest my forehead against hers.

"I love you."

"I love you."

One more peck on the lips, and I turn away from her so she won't see me break down, hastily shoving my sunglasses on as though I want to hide my identity from the world, when in reality I want to hide my heartbreak from her. I hesitate at the door, giving her one last opportunity to call me back.

She doesn't.

I smile at her, because I don't want her parting image of me to be one of misery.

"Bye."

"Bye," she whispers.

And just as she wants, I walk out of her life.