You Promised, a Harry Styles one-shot, written in his point-of-view
This is not a plea for help, but merely a journey I have planned to share for quite a long time. The words never seemed to make sense, but I figured I would just write until my heart quit aching, and who knows, maybe I will understand everything in the end. Please just bear with me.
Liam loved you to pieces. Hell, how could he not? When you walked down the aisle with your father by your side, everyone could not help but watch you. You were beautiful, but I mean, this is news to no one. As you ambled toward him, I beat myself up for letting those precious curves walk away from me. He was marrying an angel, and I…well, I never knew anything. When you said those two words, I cried. No, not cried. I fucking sobbed. You were no longer mine. You were his. The thought hurt like hell.
“If anyone objects to this marriage, let them speak now or forever hold their peace,” the pastor announced. I object, I thought, but I remained silent and swallowed the lump in my throat instead. You seemed happy, and how could I take away your happiness?
The church erupted in applause as you gave him those lips which once belonged to me. Liam was happy. You were happy. And me? Well, you know. The moment you passed me when you left the church, I promise our eyes met. Your round eyes begged me to move on and find happiness, but you were my happiness. I let you go because you deserved to be happy. Liam made you happy. I did not.
Your smile took me to another special night. After a long day of painting the nursery, you speckled my nose with a light shade of pink paint. Darcy would have loved the color. You were only five-months pregnant, but you were still fit as ever. I loved the feeling of your body against me. You immersed your finger into the paint again and traced painted hearts over my hands. Fuck, I can actually remember your touch.
“What are you doing?” I asked as you unbuttoned my black flannel.
“Making you mine,” you sexily smirked. You brushed your initials in paint on the left side of my chest. I watched as your name rose and fell in the rhythm of my heart. The paint would eventually fade, but I knew you would still love me tomorrow. You always did.
Do you remember Christmas? After a death, as humans, we sort of just lose sense of who we are. We never fought before, but the miscarriage left us confused and hurt. We wanted to love Darcy, but God had his reasons, and I never understood why. I never made love to any woman the way I did with you that night. Instead of jumping your bones, I took my sweet time and slowly gave my body to yours. I think after fighting so much, we just needed to learn how to love as best as we could again. I knew I loved you, but I reminded you too much of the pain from losing Darcy. The next morning, you were gone.
Not much longer, you fell in love with Liam. I understood why. He treated you much better than I did. He distracted you from the miscarriage, and I only reminded you of the pain. He loved you, but I still did, too.
An encouraging pat on the back from Robin interrupted my thoughts. He knew I still loved you, but he lacked the decency to interfere with my personal life. A month after the wedding, I found you on my front doorstep in tears. I asked you what was wrong, but you pressed your lips to mine and begged me to make love to you. Being a man massively in love with you, I couldn’t say no.
Before you left, you kissed me one last time and promised to be back. You said you needed to find yourself for a while. I let you go because I loved you, but you promised to be back. You promised.
Seven years later, you were still gone. You were somewhere no one knew. You were finding happiness again. Liam asked about you, but hell, just remembering you made me feel like shit. The next week, your mother told me you crashed your car. You died. I never believed her. You couldn’t have died. You promised. You promised to be back. Dammit, you promised.
A promise is a promise, right? A promise is not paint, right? A promise never washed away, right? You promised to be back. Then, where the hell are you?
I hope this journey is something you share with your friends and family. Teach them to fight, but most importantly, teach them to love. Teach them to love tomorrow and always do. We need someone who can make that promise. Even the toughest of us need love. I needed her love, but I lacked the strength to say one measly word. One word. Object. One damned word, which could have changed my life and saved…well, yours.
read this if you haven’t yet!! I apologize for the tears in advance~
