Flicker 》Harry Styles x Kennedy Walsh {COMPLETED}

34: Better Than The Days Without

I sent back the signed copy of the NDA.

Figured it didn't matter now, did it? Harry and I are over, and regardless of the presence or absence of those pieces of paper, there is not a soul that would know we ever were—except those in my immediate circle.

But I had promised I would, so I did. And, unlike a certain someone, I don't make it a habit of going back on the things I say.

Too many times I'd been tempted to ask him about Elijah's suspicion, that empty text box staring at me provocatively, but my fingertips always ended up tapping on the arrow poised on the upper left.

It wasn't that I didn't have the courage to. It's that I had pride.

Every time I see his last messages, the voicemail, I am reminded that he let go of me. It was his choice to end us, so why is it that I would be the one to come asking for crumbs?

With that logic running in my head, I sit my ass down and try to look away and cover my ears whenever he is being mentioned.

It isn't easy, seeing as the world is crazy about him, including my neighbor apparently. Thick walls couldn't protect me when they'd been blasting Fine Line like they're in a college frat party—not that I know what that would look like.

Half the album and a very anonymous noise complaint later, my apartment is again enveloped in silence.

"I can't believe you did that."

Claudia is lounging on my bean bag, a wide grin on her mouth. I let a small smile lick my lips as I continue vacuuming the floors.

"It had to be done."

"Do you think they know it was you?"

"Probably."

The pause that filled the air was a telling sign of Claudia's wondering eyes. I pretend I don't feel her gaze on me, but after fifteen seconds of the same uncomfortable staring, I straighten up.

"What?"

"Do you think you'll ever get over him?" She asks with a small voice, and I couldn't place whether she was afraid of asking me, afraid of knowing the answer, or afraid for me because that's exactly what she's going through ever since her breakup with Marty.

I can't imagine myself in her place—that idea of investing more than three years of your life into a person only to have life break you up. It's awful, and no matter how much of a romantic I was, or the number of lessons I'd learn from it, I don't ever want myself to be subjected to that type of pain.

Maybe that's why she's now a bit pessimistic about love and marriage. Hm, couldn't blame her.

"Yes," I finally answer with a tone of certainty that not only spoke for me, but for us both. She nods, the sudden wistful expression on her face tugging at my heartstrings.

"I just have to be dramatic about it first," I add, smirking.

Her quiet chuckle floats into my ears.

----

I'm sat near my huge windows, the sunlight streaming in giving me a warm feeling inside. Stretching my legs, I let a fraction of my foot be exposed to the heat while I scroll past multiple videos on my Youtube home page.

Mukbang...nope.

DIY hair highlights...nope.

How to snog...maybe—nope.