Rain lashed down outside as paced across the floor of her bedroom. It had only been about twenty minutes or so since she had fled from Harry’s house under the cover of night but the adrenalin was still coursing through her veins and it was keeping her awake. Why had she decided to go to his house and what exactly had she expected to happen? That he would be home and he would tell her off for showing up not once, not twice but now a fourth time to torture him? That she would get some sort of satisfaction from seeing in person just how much he was suffering (according to )? Or the opposite? That he would open the door and upon seeing her there would fall to his knees begging for her to give him a chance? One last chance to prove that he was done with the playboy lifestyle? And what would have happened if he had? Alas, she hadn’t even gotten to find out. He hadn’t even been home and she would be long gone before Louis got round to telling him that she had been there. The events of the last few weeks ran through her mind. Why had she gone to the signing, to his concert even? Was she just tormenting herself or was she ready for a clean break with him, to get to know this seemingly reformed man that he had been portrayed as in the media over the last year and a half? She didn’t even know. Facing away from it she threw herself down onto her bed. The mattress springs groaned with her. Why was it so hard for her to stay away from him? Wasn’t he the reason why she had left her old home in the first place? All she had wanted was to get away from him, to release herself of the hold he had on her but still she kept feeling herself being drawn to him. Was it because they had been friends for most of their lives and she was afraid of starting out on her own. Unmoving as the thoughts ran through her mind she searched for her phone that she had discarded earlier with one hand. She needed to call someone or to at the very least text them as a distraction from the hell she was putting herself through. Grabbing a hold of it, she pressed the power button to light up the screen. A notification from an unknown number flashed on the screen. She had received two texts from this number in the last half an hour.

She held her breath, her heartbeat quickening. She didn’t need to call the number to ask who it was to know that the messages were from him. How had he gotten her number? was still under an unspoken agreement to not give it out. She was just as furious and upset with Harry as she was. Dogs barked in the distance as she stared at the messages in hand. A car rolled onto a driveway nearby. A car door slammed and the sound of gravel being crunched under foot outside made her heart beat even harder. The crunching was getting even louder and from her position she could see the faint glow of her porch light indicating that someone was outside her house on her driveway not even ten feet away from her door. She gingerly sat up and crept over to the window. She peaked around the curtain. There was indeed a figure standing on her driveway. Her heart caught in her throat. It was Harry, his face illuminated further by the screen of his phone. She could also see that a car was now parked across her driveway and the dark outline of someone leaning against it. She had a feeling that she knew who it was. Who else would Harry turn to? Her own phone lit up again in her hand. Assuming it was another message she barely acknowledged it. If he wanted to tell her why he was there he could do it in person. He looked up, sheltering his eyes with his hand as he squinted in the porch light trying to make out which bedroom might be hers. As their eyes met he froze. He held up his phone to her, shaking it from side to side. Her brow furrowed but she unlocked her phone anyway. There was another message from him waiting for her. The number in the top right-hand corner changed. Now there were two.

Again, another new message came through.

As her finger hovered over the screen, a new kind of notification made her blood run cold.

She looked over at him. He silently gestured for her to answer it, pleading for her to talk to him. Suddenly she regretted ever thinking about letting him explain his presence in person as though her merely willing him to do so had manifested into him actually calling her. Now it was like they were in some sort of power struggle and she hated herself for it. It reminded her of why she had left in the first place, of always being the one he came to when someone else broke his heart and then not hearing from him until it happened again. Had going to his signing and then to his house given him the message that she was weak, that she was like putty in his hands ready to mold into whatever he needed her to be but only when it suited him? Had it only reinforced the toxic relationship they had had, that despite being mad at him she would always eventually cave in and be his for the night before he ultimately left her again? Would answering the phone be seen as a sign that he could have her whenever he wanted. As much she wanted to turn away from the window and shut the curtains over, she couldn’t. She had to see this through and look him right in the eyes. She pressed “accept”.
Before she could speak, his voice come down the line.

“I’m sorry. I love you. It’s always been you. I need to be with you.”

Her voice stuck in her throat, her heart beating wildly in her chest. Hearing his voice speaking so sincerely to her terrified her. What was she supposed to say to that? Her throat had completely dried up making her unable to talk. Instead she pressed ‘end’ and threw her phone onto the bed. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. Soon enough she felt her legs carrying her out of her room and down the stairs to the front door. She could only go along with her subconscious. It was as though she was having an out of body experience. Eventually she found herself unlocking the front door, the cold air barely making an impact on her exposed legs as she opened it to a confused Harry who stood there blinking at her bewildered.