Then and Now: A Harry Styles Fanfiction

Chapter Forty-Three

When I woke up the next morning, I felt cold. I’d expected to wake up enveloped in Harry’s muscled arms, but instead, I was alone in the massive bed.

Half of me had expected Harry to stay, to be there when I woke up and hold me for a couple minutes, our breathing in sync and no one talking. I suppose he left, he was a superstar after all.

I was about to continue thinking about Harry and his reason for leaving, when I heard shuffling outside of the bedroom. I paused for a moment, and heard quiet whistling coming for the small kitchenette area. A few seconds later, Harry emerged, a smile on his face and coffee cups in hand.

“Good morning love,” he said, noticing I was awake, “I made us some coffee.”

“Hey,” I smiled tightly, breathing in the delicious aroma of pure, Columbian coffee.

Harry walked around to his side of the bed to sit beside me. He handed me a large cup, and I greedily sipped at the caffeinated drink. I could feel Harry’s eyes boring into the side of my head as he lazily sipped from his own cup. I knew a serious, possibly tearful and relationship ending conversation was coming up, but for the moment, I just wanted to enjoy the moment.

We sat silently for a few more minutes, drinking our coffees, lost in our own thoughts. Before I could stop myself, I took a deep breath and began talking.

“It started at a party. I didn’t want to go, but my friends convinced me, and before I knew it, I was at a house filled with drunken teenagers in a tight dress.”

I could feel the calloused pads of his thumbs rubbing comforting circles on my wrist as I quietly began telling him my story; the story I was so ashamed of, and I wanted to forget more than anything in the world.

I slowly recounted the details of the party; the smell, the drugs, and all the alcohol. I remembered everything so vividly, despite being tipsy. I remembered the feeling of people’s sweaty skin as I pushed through the crowds, the taste of the vodka I had knocked down my throat without thinking. I even remembered the feeling of Mackenzie’s nails as she scratched at me.

Harry just stared at me, his thumb still on my wrist, as I talked about the party that had changed everything. I left out many names, simply referring to Mackenzie as ‘her’ and ‘the girl’. I took some time getting towards my school years, and I struggled with words as I recalled everything.

“Look at her wrists. Why can’t she go deep enough and end it already? She’s worthless anyways.”

 

“I heard that the slut slept with Bryan Jacobs after the game then gave Asher Miller a blowjob at Ellaina’s party. What. A. Whore.”

 

“Hey, bitch, how much would it take to hire you for your…services?”

 

“Slut. The world would be so much better without her.”

 

Once I started with the comments, I couldn’t stop. I didn’t let myself cry as word after word slipped out of my mouth. I didn’t dare look at Harry. I couldn’t bring myself to do that. I couldn’t bring myself to see the look of disgust that was probably plastered to his face.