⎯⎯ 𝐣𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟗

𝖩𝖴𝖫𝖸 7, 2019

𝗛𝗦𝗗 has tweeted !

𝗛𝗦𝗗
@ hsdaily

harry out in london earlier tonight! ( 7/7/2019 )

𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲 he looks so cozy

𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲 isn't it darlene's birthday today??
↳ 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲 ENOUGH

𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲 is he growing out his hair again omgomgomg

𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲 phh comeback pls???

𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲 he looks so good in jeans

𝕴t's frustrating to think how, only four months ago, he was a completely different person.

He smiled a lot more than he does now, he felt good about himself.

She made him feel good about himself.

And then she just . . . . left. Gave up and decided to never look back.

It honestly makes him wonder if it really meant anything to her? If she maybe didn't think he was good enough at all and that is why she needed to leave, get away before he'd get too attached.

But that's the thing though, isn't it?

He already was too attached by the time she decided to abandon what was perhaps the best thing that ever happened to the both of them.

He was already too in love, and that fucked him up so bad he could scream for ages.

Feeling like you're not good enough especially in the eyes of someone you decided to present your entire goddamn heart to really gets you thinking about how sorrowful and truly depressing life is.

And that's what he's doing right now, he's thinking about life while sitting curled up in the corner of the dark booth all his friends are gathered in.

Mitch, Sarah, Tom, Tommy, even Jeff decided to come along this time.

Or maybe the others decided to include him this time.

Doesn't matter what the actual situation is because Harry is drinking his way into oblivion, the dreaming buzz of the alcohol numbs the pain just by a tiny bit and that's really all he needs tonight.

Especially tonight because every time he thinks about her cutting the cake with all of her friends and family present, her welcoming a new year of her life with Timothée by her side — he has, despite Tom's warnings, been reading a little too much of the local tabloids lately and the fact that Timothée landed in London two days ago supposedly to celebrate a "certain someone's birthday" did not go unnoticed by him — makes him want to stab at his own heart.

He thinks about her being in love with him and that, quite honestly, makes him want to throw up on the street.

Mitch, who's been trying to get him lighten up all night, sidles in beside him.

Harry looks up, his hazy eyes narrowing the moment they meet his friend's dark concerned ones.

"You should probably stop drinking now. Don't want you ending up in a hospital".

Harry snorts.

"The tabloids would have a field day", he taps the side of his glass, his rings clinking against the clear material.

Mitch shrugs, "That, and the fact that I don't want you to die".

"I can handle myself, Mitchell".

The dark-haired man side eyes him.

"Sure, you can".

Feeling too judged, Harry scoots away from the guitarist, Mitch huffing at the gesture, and turns away from him as soon as he gets busy in a conversation with Sarah.

He pulls his phone out, checking the time and realising that there's still half an hour left for birthday to end.

It's now or never, Harry.

He oh so casually pulls up her contact and dials her number, expecting her to pick up but when the call goes straight to voice-mail he humphs.

He hangs up, not wanting to leave her a voice-mail she'll probably never respond to and opens up her chat instead.

His thumb hovers over the blurry keypad, brain running a million thoughts per minute and then . . . .

He hits the tiny blurred microphone in the corner and sits back, watching it record a couple seconds of the loud music bursting around him.

"Hi? Hi", he giggles realising how stupid he is and yet still keeps going, "hi. I tried calling you but of course you didn't pick up, not really sure what I was expecting to be honest".

Harry goes silent, thinking as he looks back finding Mitch and Sarah still engrossed in a conversation, both of them smiling.

It hurts seeing your friends happy when you know if things were just a little bit different, you could have that too.

"You know, I loved you. Like a lot. Actually I still love you, a lot. And it fuckin' hurt because you didn't even care enough to let me fight. That family excuse was so well thought, like how could I ever argue right? Your family needs you so, you're leaving", he sighs.

"Fucking hell Darlene, you've made me insane you know that? You've made me insane. I can't stop thinkin' about you, and no matter what I do, you're there at the back of my mind, haunting me"

"You're haunting me", a dumbfounded smile forms on his lips just as a  surprised giggle leaves his mouth, "like one of those old Manor ghosts".

He chuckles dryly.

"And you know I've tried to not blame you but it's . . . . it's hard, y'know? I like to imagine you as this . . . . as this beautiful mythical creature, as this . . . . temptress, as this woman who just walked right in and took my heart away with her. She ran far far away from me as if I were a . . . . as if she was disgusted by me and now I can't fucking move on because guess what? My heart's still with her".

His words turn into a quiet self depreciating life, because really this is very very close to being beyond pathetic.

"God I sound like a lovesick depressing poet, and an embarrassing one at that".

"This is what you've done to me. You've made me fuckin' mental and still all I want is to . . . . kiss you. I hate how dominating you are, I hate how you just keep making me doubt myself, I hate how you've moved on already. And with Timothée Chalamet, what a lucky guy. You know, I really really don't like him anymore. Feelin' like a dick saying that but who the fuck cares, you sure don't. But you know what I especially hate? How you took it upon yourself to make the ultimate decision for our relationship. I didn't even get a say in it, darlin'. And yet I'm still obsessed with you. That's some peak level madness right there".

His words are cut short by a tiny hiccup.

"Anyway, I hope you're mighty proud of yourself because seriously you should be, you're like a really really good person? But I still don't like you? And yet I'm still in love with you? Shit, I think I've drank too much"

"Good night and happy birthday—wait what time is it?—Mitch, what time is it?", he turns to Mitch, not quite sure if he spent the last thirty minutes of July seventh ranting about everything that's been bothering him lately.

Mitch perks up, his eyes going wide when he sees the phone in his hand held so so close to his mouth.

As if he's sending someone a voice message.

"Harry, are you sending Darlene a voice message?", he leans forward, ready to snatch the phone from his drunken friend's grasp.

"No, I'm not leaving a voice message for Darlene. No—I swear—", Mitch tries to get a hold of the device but Harry scoots even further away, putting a hand on his face to stop him from getting any closer.

"Oh for fuck's sake, leave me alone", he shuffles to the other end of the booth, the message still recording.

And Mitch still fuming.

"Mitch says I'm making a fool out of myself, I guess I am. I don't know. Anyway, hope you're happy with Timothée. Don't run away from him Darlene, I'm enough crazy for this world.
Or maybe run away? What do I care—shit—".

And the phone gets snatched from his grasp, accidentally hitting send.

𝖩𝖴𝖫𝖸 8, 2019

( 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗒 , 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖾 )

6 𝗎𝗇𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗌

𝗒𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖽𝖺𝗒 11:58

𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗿𝘆 🤍
𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦

𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗿𝘆 🤍
𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦

𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗿𝘆 🤍
𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦

𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗿𝘆 🤍
𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦

𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗿𝘆 🤍
𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦

𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗿𝘆 🤍
𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦

𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗒 9:31

𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗲𝗻𝗲
i'm not dating
timothée, go get
some aspirin or
smthg

𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗲𝗻𝗲
p.s. i didn't "run
away"
i walked. there's a
difference.

***
this chapter was so fun to write, i've had harry's voice message bit written out since ages 🤭