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Several times I missed you-HS

Masterlist

Summary:

Harry is not doing so well with the breakup.

Word Count: 1,941

Warnings: A little bit sad.

I missed you when we began to drift before it was over. You had always kept me up too late, rambling on about things I only cared about since they involved you. We always climed into bed and stayed up for maybe an hour longer, you talking and me listening. Our eyes would be closed and the lights off. Anyone would have thought we were fast asleep unless they heard you talking. Sometimes the stories were about coworkers or whatever book you were currently reading. You talked about the characters as if they were real and you knew them. I never realized how much I loved that. Other times it was less interesting topics like reality tv. I’d tune in out just enough to feel myself drift to sleep and then you’d pull me back in.

“Harry, are you listening to me?” You’d ask and turn around as best as you could given my arms around your stomach and your back to my chest.

“Yes, baby. You’re talking about Love Island.” I would usually respond and nestle my chin further into your shoulder after I placed a few kisses against it.

The night we stopped having these talks, I missed it. It was sudden. There was no gradual shortening of the conversations. One night we had them and the next we didn’t. Instead, you were silent after we exchanged our goodnights. We were so distant and I hadn’t even noticed until our bed conversations seemed more intimate than anything else we did.

I missed you again when I went home to my mothers after the breakup. You had urged me to be the one who stayed at our apartment until other living arrangements were made. You offered to be the one to leave and stay with a friend but I refused. It didn’t feel right. It seemed like it was now more your space than mine, anyway. I was away so much. You were the one who held it down and called when something broke. It was yours. Just hours after we had cried in eachothers arms, not wanting to seperate but knowing it was best I was on my mom’s porch. I had a backpack filled with just a few days worth of clothes because I hoped that was all I would need. There was hope that we’d figure out a way to make it work and we’d be back to normal. I cried most of the drive to my moms and I shouted just a little bit of it. I was so stupid. For the past few years it was you who stood next to my side as we waited for my mom to answer the door. It always took her forever and we’d laugh about it. She always hugged and kissed you first. I always pretended to be offended when she greeted you before me. I missed that more than ever when she opened the door and her face dropped. She only had me to greet this time. She didn’t have to ask questions to know that we had ended. I wished she would have. Maybe we wouldn’t seem so far away if she asked me about what you were doing at work or how your parents were.

And then the inevitable came too quickly. You called me just four days after everything went down. Unlike the last time we spoke, your words weren't in between sobs. I hoped that you were telling me to come back home. You weren’t.

“I’ve got most of my things out.” You said, not even saying ‘hello’ first. “The furniture is all still there.”

“No, it’s yours. It’s all yours. I’m not coming back there.” I said as I quickly sat down on the couch. My legs went weak and my heartbeat quickened.

“Some of your things are here, ba-Harry. You should come get them. Some of them are important.”

I wanted to fight it and tell you it didn’t matter. You could donate anything. Sell it. I didn’t care. None of it was important.

“I’ll come by tomorrow. Will you be there?” I asked.

“Yeah, I should be.”

The following morning I made the drive to where we based our lives. The front door was unlocked, letting me know you were right inside. I hated when you left the door unlocked. You had a habit of doing it. I was always getting out of bed to make sure it was locked and although it was sometimes annoying; it wasn’t as bad as turning over in bed and not seeing you there.

As soon as I opened the door I saw you. Your head turned so you could meet my eyes. I wasn’t looking at first. Instead I saw how you were sitting in the middle of the living room floor. Our photo albums were in front of you and there was a stack of photos at your side.

“Just pictures of my family and stuff.” You said and quickly stood up. “I’m not messing with...ours.”

You had changed so much already. It was your presence. You looked the same, talked the same, but you didn’t act the same. I wondered if I had already changed, too.

You were much more cautious as you walked over towards me. I expected you to walk past me and towards the hallway so you could give me space. I didn’t expect your arms around me and your face to my chest. I could barely hug you back before you pulled away, keeping your hands on my arms.

“Are you okay?” You asked, your eyebrows furrowed and your lips turned down.

i wasn’t sure of the right thing to say. Saying yes could make you think I was unbothered and saying no could make you feel bad. When my mouth opened but no words came out, you understood.

“It’s okay, we don’t have to say anything.” You gave me a faint smile before you let go of my arms, making them feel heavy.

We spent a few hours in the apartment moving past each other as we gathered our things. You had already gotten most of your things, but there were pictures on the walls, kitchen things, and bathroom supplies you had purchased that still needed rounded up. I barely got anything done at all.

In all those hours I had boxed only two boxes of clothes. I wasn’t sure where the time had gone. I was paying attention to the music playing from your phone and the sounds of you walking around the space. As I was folding up a shirt, you came into the room.

“Everything of mine is good to go.” You said, looking down as you leaned against the doorframe. “I left the rest of the photos. I wasn’t sure what we should do with them.”

“You don’t want any?” I asked, not meaning to sound as harsh as I did. “I mean, not even from our trips? Memories, you know?”

You pursed your lips to the side and I could tell you felt bad.

“Well, I have them all on my phone and backed up.” You said, finally looking up to meet my eyes. Things were silent for a few moments before I spoke again.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. I’ll do something with them.” I assured with a nod to try to convince myself that I was okay.

YOu stood in the doorway for too long. It was awkward and painful, but I didn’t mind too much. At least you were still around.

“It’s not our fault. You know that, right?” You asked, taking my attention from the t-shirt in my hands I had folded several times.

I thought it was our fault. How could we let something as special as this end?

“I don’t know.” I said, finally tossing the shirt into the box in front of my feet, not caring that it came unfolded. “It’s four years that have just been thrown away.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and opened your mouth as if to argue what I said, but then your face softened.

“I think you’re too important to just throw away, Harry. I won’t be throwing us away. Keep in touch, would you?”

I missed us.

People always talked about how it could be hard to get to sleep on your own after being with someone. I never believed it until a week after I last spoke to you. At first it was easy to sleep. I could nap for a few hours and forget about what you may be doing. It was an easy way to escape. After a while, I was up until the morning came. I tried keeping the TV and the fan on. None of it worked.

There was nothing that could replace the feeling the blankets being pulled from around me or your leg against mine. I tried to turn the TV on as high as I could without bothering my new roommate in an effort to replace what should be the sound of your breathing.

I didn’t get much sleep.

Once things had begun to really sink in, I tried to make you out to be a bad person. It would be easier if I could be angry. If I could pick out my least favorite things about us and magnify them, maybe I could find peace. I really tried.

I thought back to all the times I was picking your shoes up from in front of the doorway. You were always taking your shoes off as soon as you opened the front door. I remembered how frustrating it was when you forgot to turn the bathroom light off in the middle of the night.

Those things weren’t huge deals at all. Is stepping over a pair of shoes in the morning that big of a deal? No. I didn’t care most days.

Neither of us did any wrong.

After several of my friends suggested going out, I did. She was a former coworker and we went out for lunch. It felt wrong. The entire time she was talking I had to remind myself to think of her in ways other than strictly friendly. As sweet as she was, she wasn’t you. Lunch ended with me thanking her for her time. It was a terrible date.

Two months passed before we talked. I could have reached out first, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to disrespect you or your boundaries. Looking back, I’m sure you probably felt the same way. I still admire the courage you had to do what you felt was necessary.

We talked on the phone for a while. You were telling those stories you used to tell when we were in bed. I’m sure that if I had closed my eyes and cuddled up in bed, I would feel exactly like I had on one of those nights we had.

“I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfortable.” You started. I could feel your anxiety through the phone an quickly remembered that we were no longer the same as before.

“I just want you to know that I’m still the most comfortable with you. This phone call, us talking, hearing your breathing. Although we’re different, I care about you just as much as I did before.” You finished.

I didn’t have much to say. I agreed and told you that I was always available for you in whatever way you needed. You told me the same. As afraid as I was, as heartbroken, as sure I was that you were the only person for me, I found comfort knowing you would always be around. Soulmates aren’t always romantic.

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