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matildashoney · 2 years

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Delicate Point Of View: Chapter One

MASTERLIST // ASKS // PLAYLIST // TAGS Word Count: 10.1K CW: NA author's note: welcome to harry and hera's world. over the last month or so, i've been creating these characters and their story that mean so much to me, that i understand and relate to, all because of an album that means so much to me, to us. this is my first big story since loving you's the antidote, and i ask that you come into it with an open mind and heart, and give harry and hera a chance. i love these two so deeply, and i promise the rollercoaster you're about to go on will be well worth it. thank you to @gucciwins, @hunflowers, @loversgothumour, and @harryinsweats for listening to me ramble on and on about these characters that have become very real to me. i couldn't do this without your input and thoughts. and lastly, thank you to you, everyone that reads, because you're the reason i'm encouraged to write anything. i appreciate your love and kindness more than anything in this world. please, please leave comments and feedback and reblogs and likes and all the things! it encourages me! okay, enough rambling, welcome to harry (and hera's) house.

May is not necessarily the nicest time of year. Not in London, at least. Hera enjoys the weather in New York City in May much more than London, but it’s where she lives, where she calls home. And for the first time in nearly three months, Hera is home, soaking in the time to relax and take a break from work and travel in the comfort of her own home, with the familiarity of the people she loves around her. Like every other Thursday that Hera has off, her priority has been working on work emails and contracts to be sent out for Monday, residing on the couch with a blanket strewn over her legs, a mindless program airing in the background, and her phone tucked between her thigh and the softened cushion. Grant is at work, today, but he spends the weekends at her apartment in Hampstead Heath more often than not, and she’s expecting a call from him to say that he’s on his way.

Hera’s phone vibrates beneath her thigh, much earlier than when Grant typically calls on his way home, and not usually when Isla calls her to talk about their day. Her hand reaches for the phone, bringing it up to her face to see who’s calling.

And Hera has to look at the screen twice before fully accepting who is calling her. Grant will be arriving any minute, and she’s unsure what he will walk into if she answers the call. Hera tends to get emotional whenever she speaks to who is calling, and after not speaking to them for almost a year, it seems odd that they’re calling, especially when tomorrow is such a big day for them. Hera hesitates another second before deciding to answer, sliding her finger across the screen, and lifting the phone to her ear, clutching the device between her ear and shoulder.

“Hey, H,” is the first thing spoken through the speaker, and the name, the voice, the familiarity of it all feels like home. “It’s been a while. I’m glad you answered. How are you?”

“Hi,” she says smoothly, collecting her thoughts and picking at the fringe of the blanket thrown across her thighs. “I’m okay. I’m fresh off a tour, so I’m enjoying some time at home.” Hera waits a moment, and then says, “I’ll always answer. You know that.” One more moment. “How are you? Congratulations on your tour.”

“Thank you, H. That means a lot.” Hera can hear the ragged breathing through the speaker. He’s nervous, she can hear it. “I’m okay. Gearing up for tour, like you mentioned, and everything that comes along with that. My album comes out tomorrow, too.”

“I know,” she laughs breathily, shaking her head knowingly. The album is everywhere. Absolutely everywhere she turns, there is the album, the face she tries to shy away from, the reminder that he is always around. “I’m happy for you. Isla told me it’s your best work. I’m sure it’ll do amazing on the charts and all that. You always do.”

“I appreciate that, I do.”

Hera doesn’t mean to sound rude or harsh, but she has to ask the inevitable. Hera hasn’t spoken to him in nearly a year … it doesn’t make sense why he’s calling, now. Unless he found out. “Harry, I don’t mean to sound rude, but is everything okay? I’m honestly a bit shocked you’re calling me.”

Harry laughs breathily this time, and Hera can imagine him shaking his head. “I called you about the album, actually. It comes out at midnight, and, after much convincing from Mitch and Sarah and Isla, it seems apparent to me that I should call and give you a heads up.”

Hera knows in her gut what he’s saying, but decides to play innocent, maybe a bit naïve, hoping desperately she’s wrong. “Heads up? For what?”

“I, um, well,” Harry stutters nervously. Hera remembers that he does that when he’s anxious. “I wrote some songs about you, about experiences that involve you, and they made it on the album. I wanted to let you know beforehand before they’re out there and anyone else can tell you.”

Hera gulps and nods her head, although Harry can’t see her. Her suspicions were correct. Gut instinct always true. “Are you going to tell me which ones?”

“I mean, I think you’ll be able to tell with most of them.” Harry takes a breath and hums, almost as if he’s thinking about something in between sentences. “There is one song, though, that I want to send to you, now, if that’s okay, and hear your thoughts on it. I, I wrote it a while ago, back when you had told me about things with your family and friends when we were dating.” Harry pauses, and it feels as though he just reopened a wound Hera thought was stitched tightly closed. “I just, I thought this was the best way to tell you I was listening to you, and I was there for you. I know I should’ve shown that in other ways, but I wrote this, and I wanted you to hear it before the world hears it. It’s for you, Hera.”

“Can you send it through?” Hera asks, her voice going quiet as she sinks into the white, puffy couch, suddenly feeling very small and very seen. Harry hums on the other end. “What’s it called, Harry?”

“Matilda.”

Hera nods silently as a tear slips down her cheek, her hands reaching for her computer and opening her screen, typing in her password, and opening the new message from him. Her heart sinks as she opens the file, the name of the song written in bold, black letters. Hera knows exactly what day this song was inspired by; what happened and what was said, everything that led to the creation of this song. Choosing to block out the memory, Hera presses play on the song, leaving Harry on speaker on her thigh.

It’s strange. Hearing Harry’s voice over the speaker on her computer with him on the phone. Listening to a song written about her trauma and tragedy.

Hera blinks back tears, her heart clenching in her chest as the lyrics settle in, every word written to tell her the thing that her favorite childhood movie and novel always reminded her: you are not alone. Harry lets the words settle in before saying anything. He sighs, ready to speak, when Hera presses play, again. For another four minutes, the two sit in silence, Harry choosing to be oblivious to the streams of tears falling down Hera’s cheeks, because if he acknowledged it, he would be on his way over, closing the short fifteen-minute gap between their homes and rushing to her. He couldn’t do that, now, though. Not now.

“Hera?”

Hera sniffles when the song finishes, sucking in a breath before answering him. “Yes?”

“Is it okay? Do you hate it?”

“Of course, I don’t hate it. How could I? It’s beautiful, Harry,” Hera whispers, wiping her cheeks and closing her computer screen. “I just, thank you. Thank you for listening.”

Hera can’t see that Harry nods, a blush creeping on his cheeks. “I, um, I have a show in London on Monday. I believe Isla is coming. I sent an invitation to Grant, too. Mum and Gemma will be there.” Harry waits a second. “I’d really like it if you came. Come even for a few songs, you know? I, it would mean so much to me.”

Hera, although having fully believed that all her feelings towards Harry were gone, has a very tough time saying no to him. “I’ll see. I’ll try to come.”

“Wonderful. I’ll see you Monday, then.”

“I’ll try, yes.”

Hera moves to hang up, hearing the clicking of the lock and the sound of her boyfriend coming through the front door. Grant walks into the living room, seeing the phone clutched between her ear and shoulder and kisses her softly, murmuring a ‘hello’ before walking into the kitchen.

“H?”

Hera freezes. Did he hear Grant? It won’t be good if Harry finds out before she can tell him. Before anyone can tell him. “Yes?”

“Thanks for answering. I’ve missed you. I’ll see you on Monday.” And before Hera could properly respond, Harry’s hung up the phone call.

Hera takes a minute to calm down, wiping the tears from her eyes and setting her computer and phone aside on the coffee table. All of that can be collected later before she’s off to bed for the evening. At this moment though, she needs a warm, reassuring hug from her boyfriend that says that everything is going to be okay. Maybe she’ll call Isla before bed and tell her what happened. Maybe she’ll tell Grant. Maybe she won’t tell anyone at all.

Hera stands from her position on the couch and walks into the modernized kitchen – it was remodeled only a few weeks ago and barely looks lived in, with the exception of Grant always making a meal when he’s around – standing in the doorway for a minute and admiring the way Grant is milling about the room knowingly. Grant and Hera have been dating for nearly a year and a half, now, and he’s made himself comfortable in her home, in a space she once shared with someone else. Grant, always the most thoughtful, grabs another glass to pour water into once he notices her waiting at the doorway, a smile picking at his features as neither of them say a word.

Considering how busy their lives are, there aren’t many moments where Hera and Grant get to act like a normal couple, where they can cook dinner together and talk about their days and go to bed together. Hera wants to enjoy this tonight, and not worry about anyone else on her mind.

Grant speaks first. “How was your day, love?” Hera’s heart sinks further into her stomach as the tears well in her eyes. Grant is a good person, someone that’s been pining after her for years and has made the last year and a half as happy as it could be. Grant is good, truly good, someone that deserves to be loved as deeply as he loves her, and the moment he is brought up, it reminds Hera that that’s just not how she feels. “Oh, love, are you okay?”

Hera shakes her head silently, succumbing to her emotions, and walks towards him, laying her head on his chest. Grant cradles her head against his chest and slowly rubs her back as she silently lets the tears fall against his cotton shirt. Grant sets his chin on her head, “I’m sorry you had a bad day. Does it have to do with the call you were on earlier? Would you like to talk about it?”

“I don’t think so,” Hera sighs shakily, lifting her head and pouting out her bottom lip. Now is not the time to tell him that her ex-boyfriend called. Now is especially not the time to tell him that said ex-boyfriend has songs about her on his new album. “I’m happy you’re here with me. Thank you for being here.”

“Always, honey,” he softly smiles, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to her mouth. His kiss makes her smile, a half-smile that says, this feels right, and she tightens her arms around his waist. “What do you want to cook, tonight? I think you’ve got a bit of chicken we could stir up into some pasta, or we could make something from scratch if you’d prefer.”

Hera closes her eyes and soaks in the sound of his voice. Comforting, the sound of an old friend, someone she’s known nearly a decade. Loving, someone that loves her so deeply, that he would do anything, give up anything for her. Grant loves her, that much she knows. “Whatever you want, baby. Anything sounds good.”

Grant nods, cupping Hera’s cheeks and giving her another kiss, before loosening his grip and beginning to pull things out of her refrigerator to make for dinner. Hera watches him carefully, and she can see a future where their life is like this every night, not just one or two nights a week. Hera turns on the radio, closing her eyes and soaking in the last bits of sunlight piercing through the window as she washes the vegetables and sings along quietly to the songs playing through the speaker. Grant talks about his day working with the production team for an up-and-coming band on tour throughout the country, talking about how humble and sweet they were – quite the contrast from the usual artists and teams he works with day to day as a sound technician. Hera talks about the contracts that are being sent by a few different artists, saying that she has to choose which one she’s going to settle for by the end of the week. Grant offers to look over the contracts with her later that evening, and Hera smiles gratefully.

Amidst their talks of work and travelling, Hera’s ears perk to the sound of Isla’s name, Grant quickly saying that she mentioned a concert on Monday that they had been invited to. Hera can see that he walks around it as much as he possibly can, but the hurt that passes through Hera’s face at the mere mention of it is evident. Hera had decided before that conversation to not mention it, that she wouldn’t go. Now, however, it seems that it is up for discussion.

“About that,” Hera says, suddenly feeling very full and pushing her plate away from her face. Grant is staring at her intently, and she suddenly feels very sick. “Harry called me earlier. That’s who I was on the phone with.” Grant leans forward, hanging on every word she says. “He, uh, sent me a song that he wrote about me, for me. Asked, Harry asked if I would go on Monday, to the show. I, I’m not so sure I want to go. I don’t want it to be awkward or something for us to be there together, to see his family, to see him. I, I just don’t know.”

“June, my love, I would never force you to go if you don’t want to,” Grant begins, setting his fork down and grabbing her hand from across the table, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles comfortingly. Grant is so good at that, at comforting her. “I just –”

“Conditional statement incoming.”

Grant laughs at that, “However, I do think it may be good for you. Get some closure and all that. It’s okay that you miss him, baby. He was your best friend. Long before you and I were together, or any of us, pretty much. It may be nice to have him in your life again, you know, even if it’s just a little bit.”

“And I’ll have to see him eventually. Isla’s wedding is coming soon. I’ll definitely be seeing him there, you know. Maybe I should just get that initial awkward meeting out of the way,” Hera explains, taking a sip of water and swallowing dryly. All this talk of him has made her throat and mouth gone dry. “Considering we’re the Maid of Honor and Best Man.”

Grant nods, “I think this sounds like a really smart thing to do. I think it’ll be good for you,” he smiles softly, lifting her hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing her fingers gently. “I’ll be by your side the whole time. You won’t have to do it alone. You’ve got me, now. And Isla and Beau. I’m sure Mitch won’t let him do or say anything stupid, either.”

“I suppose you’re right, yeah.” Hera’s eyes travel everywhere but Grant’s face. All that has transpired in the last few hours feels surreal. Especially knowing that in a few hours, there will be songs about her released to the world, songs she’s never heard, songs she has no idea the context or what they say or how they sound. Hera wants to talk about it, to share her feelings, but how could she possibly do that with her boyfriend? “Harry said that there are songs about me on the album. Like I said, I heard one today, but there’s more. I haven’t listened to anything yet. I’m not sure I want to.”

Grant nods knowingly, “I know, baby.”

Hera’s eyes go wide, and she feels like she should sink further and further into her chair with embarrassment. “You know?”

“Mitch sent me the songs. Kind of like a warning, maybe. I don’t really know, actually. I didn’t ask what he meant by it, or what he wanted me to do with them. He’s the only one of them that knows we’re together besides Isla.”

“Did you listen? Are they, like, I don’t know.”

“I did listen.” Hera gulps, and Grant looks off into the distance for a moment, almost as if he’s searching for the right words to break this to her. His thoughts hurt him, that much she can see, and she wishes it didn’t have to be like this. Hera wishes she wasn’t still in love with another man, at the same time she loves Grant. Hera wishes he wasn’t everywhere they go, every turn a reminder of him. Hera wishes he wasn’t writing songs about her, touring the world singing them with people constantly questioning and blaming her for his heartbreak. “Harry still loves you, June. You know that, don’t you?”

Mixing all those words together in one sentence breaks Hera’s façade. All that she’s worked towards over the last two years, the therapy and talking and going out and finding closure on her own, it all feels like a lost cause with that one, singular statement.

Grant stands from his seat and takes their plates to the trash and then to the sink, rinsing them before putting them in the dishwasher and walking towards Hera. He knows that she likes a moment to collect herself before he says anything.

“Grant, I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know that, baby. I do,” Grant says, walking towards her and gently laying his hands on her shoulders, encouraging her to turn to face him. Hera leans her face on his abdomen and her eyes flutter shut when his fingers run through her hair the way she likes. “I love you, very much. And I know how hard this is for you. I don’t want you to ever feel like I’m making you choose between having me and having him in your life. I’ll always be there for you. I just, I want you to know that I’m not letting you go that easily. If Harry wants you, he’s going to have to win you over fair and square. “Cause I’m here, I’m in this for the long haul. Forever, if you want.”

Hera’s skin prickles with goosebumps at the ‘forever’ comment. Grant seeing a future with her will never not make her react. “I doubt that’s what he wants, Grant.”

“Either way, I just want you to know how I feel,” Grant says calmly, leaning down and kissing Hera’s forehead. He lingers there for a moment, before pulling away and saying, “Do you want to go and run a bath for us? Might be a nice way to end the day.”

“Okay,” Hera murmurs, standing on her feet and tilting her head slightly to bring his mouth to hers. Grant doesn’t hesitate for a second, kissing her deeply and smiling when her hands come to grab his cheeks and hold him there for a moment longer. “Love you.”

“Love you.”

Grabbing her phone from the living room, she makes her way into the master bedroom and ensuite, turning on the water for the tub and shutting the door to let the steam begin to warm the room. Grant can be heard through the house, milling about, and grabbing his things as he shuffles into the bedroom, plugging in his phone and cautiously entering the bathroom. Hera’s eyes flutter shut as Grant places a kiss on the back of her neck, gently massaging her shoulders as she leans into his touch. Hera lays her hands on his, squeezing him, rolling her head back against his shoulder as his hands begin to wander down her body.

Grant doesn’t speak, merely caressing her body and cherishing the way her mouth feels on his. Hera’s words exist in whimpers and quiet moans, as they stumble into the bedroom and find their way to her mattress, her thoughts surrounded by the way she feels with her boyfriend heavy on her chest and her legs wrapped around his waist.

Grant finally decides to share his feelings when they’re in the bath together, when she’s laying on his chest, his hands running over her shoulders and down her sides. Hera is nearly asleep, her eyes fluttered shut with the feeling of his hands on her. He sucks in a deep breath, and Hera’s eyes open, knowing that he’s about to say something.

“Are you okay, Grant?”

Grant shrugs and gently turns her around, her thighs wrapping around his waist and her arms moving around his neck. “I want to be with you, June. I want to be with you and have a future with you. I don’t want to sound selfish, I don’t, but I want you, and I don’t want anything to come between us and what we have going.”

Hera nods understandingly. Hera understands Grant’s position. How could she not? Truthfully, it’s a bit surprising he’s as calm about all of this as he is. Anyone in his position would be angry, pissed, annoyed. And yet, Grant is here, encouraging Hera to find closure with Harry, promising her that he’d fight for her and their future together.

Hera leans forward and kisses Grant softly. “I won’t go on Monday if you don’t want me to. I completely respect your feelings on this.”

“I don’t think that’s the answer to this.” Grant brushes a stray strand of hair away from her face. “I think I should stay back. You and Isla can go. I’m sure you’ll have a good time seeing everyone. I do think you should tell him that we’re seeing each other, though. I think that boundary should be set from the get-go.”

“I understand, and I agree.”

“Okay,” Grant smiles, leaning forward and capturing her mouth in a kiss. His kisses are always gentle and never hurried, never rushed and needy. “I think we should get out, though. My fingers are beginning to prune.”

Hera and Grant laugh together, clambering out of the tub and grabbing their respective towels to dry off and settle into their pajamas and nightly routine. Grant is asleep before Hera, falling asleep almost instantly when his head lays against the pillow. Hera tosses and turns for a while, debating whether or not to send a text to Isla about Monday and whether or not she should go.

All of it seems like a bad decision, a poor choice. How could seeing Harry possibly go well? Hera is sure all of those old emotions will draw up again, will start stirring in her chest. How could she possibly face Grant knowing that she’s still in love with Harry, too? How could she hear all the songs written about her and not feel something? All of it seems like the start of a very big problem.

Hera sighs, tossing over and reaching for her phone and opening her messages with her best friend, typing out what she needs to before turning her phone over and cuddling into Grant’s chest to finally fall asleep.

I’ll be there on Monday. Pick me up at 6.

Grant stayed the night, and then was hurriedly called into work for the weekend for a run of shows that were last minute needing a technician. Hera sighed, disappointed that their weekend would have to be postponed, but she understood, nonetheless.

Out of all people, Hera would understand.

Hera debated on calling Harry all weekend and telling him that she would be there. On the day of the album release, Hera’s social media was flooded with congratulatory statements on the album and the radio was overwhelmed with his music. Like before, Hera couldn’t escape, even if she tried. Ultimately, she made the decision that she would simply show to the concert with her best friend and see what happens. Grant is only a phone call away if she needs to leave.

In the meanwhile, Isla did very little to hide her excitement about Hera joining her on Monday evening. Isla, nearly seconds after receiving the text, flooded Hera’s inbox with texts about what she should wear and what she would say, to which Hera dejectedly replied, “Isla, I don’t even know how I’m going to feel when I see him. Let me have a minute to think about what I’ll say.”

Isla took Grant’s place throughout the weekend, slinging a duffle over her shoulder and showing up at Hera’s house only an hour after she called, inviting her over for the few days that Grant would be gone before the show. Isla’s wedding is in a few short weeks, just under two months away, and Hera knew that she needed the time away from planning and the stress of it all – even if it was only a few blocks over at her best friend’s apartment. Hera and Isla’s days were spent with lounging around the living room and ordering in, cherishing their days off together and getting to talk about things other than the wedding.

Isla doesn’t ignore the elephant in the room, though. Hera knows it’s going to be spoken about eventually, she just, truthfully, doesn’t want to admit how she’s feeling about it.

One part of her, a very strong part, is anxious and very nervous to go. Everything is different, now. Harry and Hera haven’t seen each other in a year and a half, maybe longer, and everyone around them knows the secret she’s been trying to keep. His family will be there, and Hera will have to face two of the people that made her feel so special in the short time they were together, the two people she broke contact with afterwards. Hera will face his friends, the ones that called her after they split and begged her to just talk to him. Quite possibly the hardest one, will be facing Harry, himself, seeing the face of the man she loved so deeply, cared so much for, and risk all those emotions coming back at full force.

Another part of her, an increasingly growing part, is excited to go. Hera hasn’t seen her friends, her family in years. It’ll be a relief to see familiar faces, comforting smiles, and laugh with people she feels like she grew up with. Isla will be by her side, and there will be so many people there that she’s missed dearly. Sarah Jones possibly being the one she misses the most. Meeting new friends on the team, too, is something Hera always looks forward to. Hera has always felt most comfortable on tour, traveling, and meeting new people, and that’s exactly what she’ll get to do, tonight. Hera knows the risks, but she is very aware of the rewards that are waiting on the other end.

And as Hera is wrapped in her thoughts, Isla is in the bedroom simultaneously getting ready, nudging her towards the bodysuit and jeans that Hera had been debating on wearing for a few hours, claiming she didn’t want to draw too much attention to herself. Isla encouraged the outfit, knowing just how Harry would react to it. Hera isn’t blind to Isla’s intentions, and keeps reminding her that she is, in fact, with Grant. Beau is in the living room, waiting patiently for the two to finish getting ready. Hera and Isla made plans to join the after party – Isla made the plans – and they would need a designated driver home, queue the fiancé. Hera doesn’t say much as they get ready, letting Isla do most of the talking about the album and her favorite songs that Hera has yet to listen to and slyly mentioning that she may be joining the tour for the next leg, sharing her excitement for being on the road with their friends, once again.

“Are you excited, at all?” Isla wonders, smacking her lips together as she coats her mouth with gloss, her skin glistening under the lights of her bedroom.

“I mean, yeah, I suppose I am. It’s just, it’s weird. Knowing he’s going to be playing songs about me, with me there. Songs I wouldn’t know about if it wasn’t for Sarah and Mitch and you.”

“He’s excited to see you.” Isla meets Hera’s stare in the mirror. “What? Did you think I wouldn’t tell him? He’s been hounding me for weeks to get you to go.”

“This feels weird,” Hera mutters, pulling on her hair tightly to secure the hair in place, the curls falling loosely around her shoulders. “I feel like I shouldn’t be going.”

“Well, you may have to get over that feeling, my dear friend, because we have to go, otherwise we’re going to hit major traffic and never make it, and Harry will be up my ass about not seeing us before the show. Us, but mainly you.”

Hera sucks in a deep breath and nods, grabbing her purse from her dresser and opening her bedroom door, Isla following closely behind. Beau immediately stands and smiles at his fiancée, grabbing her hand and bringing her in for a kiss. Hera smiles fondly, happy that her best friend found someone that adores her as much as she deserves. Hera, in another life, always imagined that she and Harry would be the first of their friends to get married, to just one day decide and go to the courthouse and do it.

Hera shakes the thoughts from her head and follows her friends out to their car, climbing into the backseat and sending a message to Grant to let him know that she is on her way and wouldn’t be paying too much attention to her messages throughout the night, to call if he needs her. Grant assures her he would be okay and working, too, insisting on her going to have fun with her friends. Grant says he loves her, as he always does, and leaves her be.

Conversations in the car distract her for a while, enough to make it out of their neighborhood and to the venue in what feels like a blink. Hera sighs, getting out of the car and wiping her hands on her knees, the nerves growing every second.

Isla walks up first, smiling at security and giving their names. Hera is on the list.

It’s unusual, this feeling. Familiar but so foreign. Hera’s name has been on plenty of lists, especially in the last few years, but to be on Harry’s list again, it feels different.

Beau leads the way with Isla’s hand in his, walking past all of their equipment and road cases and all the different signages clinging to the rooms scattered through the hallways. Hera is in her own thoughts until she hears a familiar voice, Isla shouting, and Beau laughing. Her chest tightens, and she feels grateful that she’s hidden behind her two friends, in a way that makes her barely noticeable. Hera feels small, unsure, and her eyes dart behind her where she can make a break for it, leave without anyone saying anything. Hera is nearly turning on her heel to leave when Isla and Beau split apart, and the man she’s felt so conflicted on seeing steps between them, facing her head on, wearing the infamous crooked smile that always made her heart beat a little bit faster.

“You made it,” he says, his arms dangling awkwardly at his side, his lips parting in a softened smile. He steps forward and lowers his voice. “Can I hug you?”

Hera can’t find her voice, simply nodding and stepping forward, lifting her heavy arms from her sides, and wrapping them around his midsection, his arms coming around her shoulders and pulling her in tightly. Hera sighs, breathing him in and soaking in the familiarity of the cologne, the freshness of his toothpaste, the tightness of his arms around her body. Hera knows they’re standing there for a minute, maybe two, much longer than his hugs with Beau and Isla. Her voice is lost in her throat, and she wants to say so many things to him, to cry in his arms and say she misses him, but instead she tightens her arms around his waist and allows him to hold her.

“I’ve missed you, H. Missed you so much.”

Hera freezes, unable to say what she’s feeling without feeling guilty, and squeezes him tighter, before gently (and maybe a bit reluctantly) letting go. It’s painfully obvious that there are eyes on them, and if she’s going to say anything to him, she wants it to be private and on their own.

Harry loosens his grip, his hands falling to her arms and then her hands, his eyes travelling across her face, her body, soaking her in as though it’s a hallucination that she’s there, really there. Harry grabs Hera’s hand and intertwines their fingers, earning a smile from Isla and a warning glance from Beau. Harry shakes it off, walking forward and nodding them towards the dressing room where the band and the team were all congregated. The show begins in less than a half hour, and Harry would have to leave to get dressed and ready very soon, meaning Hera would be alone with her friends and she could figure out what she was going to say, when she was going to say it.

“Look who’s here!” Harry cheers as they walk in the room, Hera blushing instantly as their friends all stand and laugh and immediately rush over to greet her. Hera immediately feels at home, smiling brightly as she walks up to Sarah and wraps her in the tightest hug she could muster, willing the tears to go back and not ruin her face or Sarah’s outfit for the show. Mitch stands, holding their baby tightly in his arms and hugs her, smiling his infamous half smile and watching as his best friend admires the interactions from a distance. Mitch looks at her knowingly and she nods shyly, trying to avoid saying anything that will make the interaction uncomfortable for anyone, or say something she’s not ready to address just yet.

“I haven’t seen you in so long,” Sarah gushes, cupping her cheeks and bringing Hera in for another hug, squeezing her tightly and whispering in her ear, “Don’t shut us out, again, June. God, I’ve missed you. We’ve all missed you. Very much.”

Hera quickly wipes a tear from her cheek and nods. “God, I have missed you, Sarah Jones. I really have.”

“You and I, we have to get lunch. Make a day of it. Catch up on everything. I want to see my friend. I missed you so much. I can’t believe you’re here. Harry mentioned it to me the other day, but I didn’t really believe him.” Sarah looks at Hera for a moment. “I’m sorry for how things turned out. I didn’t want us to stop being friends, though. I want you in my life. You’re my friend.”

“You will. I promise,” Hera swears, smiling and turning over her shoulder, making eye contact with Harry momentarily before he’s looking away and walking towards the hallway, presumably going to get changed for the evening. Hera’s heart drops to her stomach, willing the uneasiness to go away, and she feels the urge to follow him and talk to him privately, to have a few moments where they’re just themselves and there’s no one around to influence what they have to say to each other. Isla quickly draws Hera out of her thoughts to introduce her to the band, everyone giving her a warm hug and greeting and saying that they’ve heard so much about her. Hera smiles and talks for what feels like hours, the comfort of being with people she loves and that love her making her nerves drift away one by one.

“On in five, everyone!” Tommy calls from the hallway, poking his head in the doorway and immediately grinning when he sees Hera’s face in the corner. “Is that June? The June Collins!”

“Hi, Tommy,” Hera smiles, walking over and accepting his arms crushing around her. “Good to see you, my friend.”

“Good to see you, June. Let me take you upstairs. Harry saved the best seats in the house for you,” Tommy grins, linking their arms and gesturing for Isla and Beau to follow behind. He walks through the backstage area and to the stairs where the entrance to the balcony is, looking at Hera intently before saying, “Are you going to be okay? Harry told me he called you about the album.”

“I will be, yeah. I’ll be okay. Thank you.”

Hera, Isla, and Beau climb the stairs to the balcony. Isla squeezes Hera’s hand when they get to the platform, Hera sucking in a deep breath and trying to ignore all the whispers that were starting to surround her as she walks through the aisle and gets to their seats. Hera can hear the whispers, “Is that Harry’s ex?”, “Aren’t there songs about her on the album?”, “Next to his family?” and the overwhelming desire to leave is almost too much to ignore or deny. Hera spots her exit, making a plan for leaving in case everything gets to be too much.

And as Hera is navigating her makeshift escape route, her name is called through the balcony by a voice she could never forget. “Hera!”

Gemma immediately stands and is walking towards her, wrapping her in a hug and squeezing her tightly. “Hi, love! How are you? It’s been so long.”

“I know, I know. It’s been forever,” Hera admits, suddenly feeling very overwhelmed by the love that washes over her for the women in front of her. Anne and Gemma were nothing but welcoming and warm to her, always, from the moment they met to the moment they left. Anne never let her feel anything short of a daughter, as someone she could go to in times of trouble and lean on when she needed. Gemma was the sister Hera never had, a friend and a companion in the streets of London. And Hera, who admittedly cannot handle losing people, isolated herself when things went wrong, and lost the family that loved her more than her own family had. Hera’s eyes feel wet when she blinks out her thoughts, Gemma still standing in front of her, holding her arms. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you more,” Gemma smiles, reluctantly stepping aside when her mother gently nudges her shoulder.

“Hi, my dear,” Anne says warmly, wrapping her arms around Hera’s shoulders, much like her son, and squeezing her tightly. Hera takes deep breaths, willing herself not to break into sobs at the comfort of a mother’s hug, and her demeanor softens. “It’s so good to see you, here. Harry has not stopped talking about it. Having you here means everything to him. And to us. We’ve missed you.” Hera nods without saying a word. “Come on, you’re sitting next to me.”

Hera, Anne, Gemma, Isla, and Beau all make conversation in the meanwhile, talking about Anne’s travel down to London, Isla and Beau’s wedding, Hera’s most recent tours. Conversation flows easily, and for a moment, Hera forgets about everything that’s happened in the last two years, all the mistakes that were made and the regrets that are there, and she’s with her friends, with her family, and she’s home.

Isla nudges Hera’s side, nodding towards her knee where her phone is lighting up with a message. Hera quickly opens it, trying desperately to hide the smile on her face.

Happy to have you here. Always do better when you’re around. Enjoy the show. I’ll see you after. H x

Hera doesn’t have time to think of a response, because before she could muster up the courage to write anything, the lights are going dark, and the music is beginning to play. Anne and Gemma immediately stand, Isla and Beau following, and Hera shoves her phone in her pocket and follows suit. Everyone around her is screaming and cheering, and Hera can’t hide the smile on her face when Harry walks out and immediately finds her. He’s always done this; from the moment they started dating and she began attending his shows. He would find her first and foremost, everyone else could come after. Hera never doubted that he was in love with her. If there was one thing Hera knew for sure in this life, it was that Harry Styles was in love with her.

And that’s why when Harry begins giving the speech for “Matilda,” Hera has to hold back every emotion she’s feeling. Love. Heartbreak. Jealousy. Anger. Over the last two years, Hera has done everything in her power to accept that their story was a short chapter in her book, a thirty second clip in her movie, a singular song on the album. Hera has fought for her closure and to move on, to find love in other people, places, things. Hera has struggled to find home, to find family. And all of that, everything Hera has worked for, feels like it’s pouring down the drain as he introduces the song that she knows is meant for her.

Hera remembers the conversation like it was yesterday. Hera remembers the frustration pouring from Harry’s voice, his face, the way he was pacing around her apartment. Hera remembers the way he shouted at her, the way he said, “I hate to see you this way. I hate to see you so upset.” Hera remembers sobbing at the kitchen counter, sliding her phone towards him and for the very first time, allowing him to see all the things her mother has been saying to her.

“I just, I don’t understand why you continue to speak to them if they’re so cruel to you all the time,” Harry says, running his fingers through his hair frustratedly. “It’s killing you, Hera. All that they say to you is hurting you, every day. And yet, you still continue to pick up their calls and listen to them! I don’t understand. Make me understand.”

Hera couldn’t respond, she couldn’t tell him or make him understand. Hera couldn’t do anything, because, for a majority of her life, she never believed anything to be wrong. Hera clung to imaginary stories of mothers and daughters, of families that fought for each other instead of against, for films and novels that taught her she wouldn’t be alone forever. Hera cried until there were no more tears left in her body. Hera sat in silence while Harry calmed himself down, turning to her with tears in his eyes.

“Hera, baby, you can’t keep doing this to yourself. You deserve to be happy, you know. You deserve to have a family that loves you and cares for you. Family isn’t always blood, okay? Friends, friends can be family. Friends are sometimes the best family you can have. I love you. I’m your family now, okay? Me, my mum, and sister. Our friends. That’s your family. This, this has to stop with your family. You can’t keep doing this to yourself every time you speak to them.”

Isla smiles softly as Anne wraps her arms around Hera’s body, hugging her tightly and laying her cheek against her hair as the song echoes through the venue. Anne kisses her forehead sweetly, whispering, “We’re still your family. Always.” Hera can’t bring herself to say anything, tears falling helplessly down her cheeks. Isla rubs her back sweetly, leaning into her and giving as much silent support as she could muster.

Hera looks to Harry and smiles, listening to everyone in the venue sing the song back to him. Hera can see the friends holding each other, the tears falling down cheeks, the way that everyone in some way seems to understand the pain she was going through in that moment, the pain she still continues to go through every day. Hera wants to give everyone a hug, to tell them that she understands. Hera knows the pain, the suffering that entails when your relationship with your family isn’t what you want it to be, isn’t what it should be. Hera has learned, however, that the friends you make along the way, can sometimes be the family you were always meant to have.

“Are you okay? That was a lot, I know. We can go outside for a minute, if you want,” Isla whispers, leaning towards Hera and squeezing her hand. Beau halfway steps out of the row, one foot in and one foot out, gesturing for the exit, but Hera quickly shakes her head, Isla smiling widely and suspiciously.

“I’m okay. Thank you, though. I want to see the rest of the show. I’m enjoying it,” Hera assures her friends, shaking her head and taking a deep breath to gather her emotions. Hera returns her attention to the stage and Harry grins at her, and when she smiles back, she swears she can see a blush on his cheeks. “Harry looks good. Happy.”

“Of course, he’s happy, Hera. Harry’s singing an album that just released to the person it’s about,” Isla says with a laugh, shaking her head dramatically. Isla was always the one to point out the obvious between Harry and Hera, even when Hera didn’t want to believe it.

“Oh yeah? And who would that be?”

“You.”

Hera goes quiet, unsure of what to say. Could Harry look as happy as he does because Hera is there? Maybe. Could the album be about her? Possibly. All Hera would have to do is ask for Harry to tell her. All of the questions that are swirling around her head suddenly get shoved to the corner of her mind when a security guard walks to the edge of the aisle and motions for the group to follow him, presumably backstage for the party when the show would finish.

Hera can hear Harry bidding his goodbyes to the audience as they walk backstage, her nerves beginning to bundle together and multiply as it gets even closer to the moment that’s been waiting to happen for two years, now. Harry and Hera alone, talking, sharing the things that have happened since they’ve been apart.

Hera has a beer in her hand and is talking to Gemma about the latest tour she’s working on when everyone begins to cheer and congratulate the man of the hour as he walks inside the room. Alcohol is being shoved in a million different directions and the band is beginning to file into the dressing room for everyone to talk and mingle in. Hera turns around and is immediately greeted with a sweaty hug, and she welcomes it, the feeling of his arms around her and the scent of him overwhelming her senses and the way everyone in the room seemingly disappears while they have this moment together, just the two of them. Harry grins at her and kisses her cheek without warning, and Hera can feel her face heating under his stare.

“Hi, H.” Harry’s smile couldn’t get any bigger if he tried. “Can I steal you away from my sister for a minute? I’d like to talk to you alone before everyone is pulling me in a million different directions and I don’t get to see you before you have to leave. Would that be okay with you?”

Hera smiles and nods, purposefully ignoring Isla’s grinning from across the room. Harry leads the way out of the mass of people and towards his dressing room a few doors down the hallway. Hera walks in first and sets her drink on the counter, Harry following behind quickly after shutting the door. Moments pass as the two stand together in the silence, both a bit unsure of what to say first. Hera looks at Harry longingly, and for the first time all night, she’s grateful they’re alone together, that she can say what she has to, and they can start over, as friends, and be in each other’s lives again, because the years that she’s spent without him, without her family, have been awful. Hera misses him, misses him deeply, and she’ll do anything to have him around, even if it’s in a limited capacity.

Hera opens her mouth to speak, to say this, but nothing leaves her tongue when Harry walks forward. He stands in front of her silently, his eyes travelling across her face and trying to gauge her emotions, how she’s feeling. Harry grabs her hands, holding her fingers to his heart, his heart beating erratically against her skin. He stares at her, as though the hallucination of her is going to disappear without a second thought, and he soaks in everything about this moment – that Hera is here, with him, and she’s happy to see him, to talk to him, to be alone with him. Harry has waited far too long for this, for this very moment, and there are so many things that he wants to say to her, to confess and share. He doesn’t know where to start, and by the looks of it, neither does Hera. Harry wants to go first, to get out everything before she can run away and never look back.

“Hera, I,” Harry breathes, struggling to maintain a steady rhythm as the emotions and the feelings of her touch on his skin start to cloud his judgement and his thoughts. “I’ve missed you. I miss you so much, Hera.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Harry. I have. Life hasn’t been the same without you in it.”

Harry’s eyes move from her own to her mouth, tracing over the flesh that he once knew so well. He quickly blinks back tears, breaking his stare and shaking his head, squeezing her hands before letting their hands fall from his chest. Harry sighs, swallowing all the heartbreak in his throat when he says, “You didn’t have to shut me out, H. I could’ve been around, even after everything. I wanted to be around. We all did, Hera. All of us, we all have missed you so much.”

“I couldn’t see you after, Harry. It was too hard for me. I understand that it was hard for you, I know that, but for me, I couldn’t. And that included our friends.”

“And now?”

“I just want to be around. I miss my friends. My family. I miss you.” Harry nods, his tongue poking between his lips, wetting the puffy pink flesh as his green eyes trace over her mouth. “I need to be around you all. It’s the best thing for me. In every sense of the word.”

“I need to be around you, Hera,” Harry whispers, leaning his forehead against hers, his mouth hovering dangerously close to her own.

“Harry, I, I can’t,” Hera sighs, the moment breaking and the realization beginning to hit her. Grant is waiting for her to call. Guilt is eating away at her already for being alone with him and remotely thinking about kissing him. Her emotions are confusing her, and she feels hazy, clouded. Her hands travel from her thighs to his shoulders, gently pushing his away.

“I shouldn’t ask to kiss you, I know, I’m sorry, I just, I need to, Hera. It’s been so long without you. I missed you. Us. Seeing you with Mum and Gemma and our friends and everything. I just, I need to kiss you. I miss you, Hera.”

“That’s not it, Harry. I, I miss you, too. I’m horrible for saying this, I know I am. All of this is so confusing and giving the worst signals to each other. All that I didn’t want to happen when we talked. I wanted to come and talk to you, tonight, to be friends. I just, I can’t kiss you. Not now.”

“Why is that so horrible? What’s wrong with saying that?” Harry can feel his insides churning, the anxiety and the nerves with what she’s about to say. Harry can tell something is off, the way she’s feeling guilty for this. He has a feeling, a gut feeling, and he’s praying that it’s wrong.

“Harry, I, I’m–”

Harry takes a step back, his hands running over his face and through his hair. He knows. Hera can tell that he knows and he’s struggling to say it. “You’re dating someone. Aren’t you? That’s the reason you can’t kiss me.” Hera nods without saying a word. “Is it new?” Hera shakes her head. “How long, Hera?”

“Over a year.”

Harry turns around, not wanting Hera to see the way his mouth begins to tremble, and his eyes are welling with tears. “Over a year. Congratulations.”

“Harry.”

“No, really. I mean that, Hera! That’s great, H! Good for you. Must be going well if it’s been over a year,” Harry says overly enthusiastically, and Hera can tell that he’s hurting. He won’t stare into her eyes, and he’s switching the weight from his feet over and over again. “Such a shame you didn’t bring them to the show tonight, I could’ve met them! Made a good introduction for myself. Could’ve made a new friend in the meanwhile.”

“He couldn’t make it, tonight,” Hera says sadly, wiping away the tears that are beginning to fall from her eyes involuntarily. Her voice lowers with her next statement. “He told you that.”

Harry turns around quickly, his eyes going wide and his lips pursing together in a straight line, everything beginning to make sense in his head as he adds the pieces together. All the conversations that Grant and Harry had about dating someone new and falling in love and moving on. Harry feels a wave of jealousy and anger wash over him. “Grant. As in, my friend Grant. Grant that worked for me. You’ve been dating Grant for a year and a half. And no one thought to tell me?” Harry stands in silence for a moment, stunned. “That is so fucked, Hera.”

“Harry, I’m sorry.” Harry turns around, his arms crossed in front of his chest and his back meeting her stare. He can’t look at her. Not now. Not after what she’s told him. “Harry.”

“You think that’s okay? That you’re dating my friend? Might as well have told me that you’re sleeping with my brother!”

“Harry, I am sorry that it’s Grant and that no one told you. It just happened.” Hera is crying, now, trying to wipe her cheeks and explain herself without losing her voice and her strength. Harry shakes his head. “This happened months after we broke up. Quarantine was happening, you were gone, and I was alone in London. We weren’t talking. Grant was there for me through all of it and asked me out after six months of crying over you and Isla telling me I needed to get out there if I wasn’t going to pick up the phone and call you. News articles were saying that you were already dating someone new. I, I didn’t want to be alone and still crying over someone that was rumored to be already dating someone new! That’s not fair, you know? I just, I am really sorry that no one told you, that I didn’t tell you sooner. I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“Have you forgotten that you broke up with me, Hera? Have you forgotten that tiny detail?” Harry asks sarcastically, scoffing as he walks towards her. “I was on dates trying to forget you. Have you ever thought of that? Did you ever think to call me and ask what I was doing?”

“Harry.”

“I have spent every day for the last two years miserable that I am not with you. Miserable. I think about you constantly. I write songs about you. I talk to my mother about you. I stare at your fucking social media just to see pictures of you. And you, you started dating my friend, haven’t spoken a word to me or our friends, and moved on like it didn’t matter. Like I never mattered to you. That is what hurts the most out of this. Not that it’s Grant. Not that I know him. That I didn’t matter to the person that mattered, that matters the most to me.”

“Harry, it is not like that. Out of all people, out of everyone, you mattered the most to me. I just, I wanted different things back then. I still want different things than you. Grant wants the same things as me. Grant and I, we want a future. He understands not having a family and wanting to make one of your own.”

“You never asked me what I wanted. You assumed based on one conversation you overheard. You never asked, Hera.” Harry looks at Hera for the first time in what feels like hours. “I wrote that song for you, to tell you that I listened, and that I wanted to see you make a family. I wanted to be in that family. And you didn’t even give me the chance.”

“Harry, listen to me,” Hera breathes, coming away from the dresser and walking towards him, cautiously bringing her hands to his cheeks, and making him look into her eyes. “I want you in my life. I miss you. I have missed you more than you know. I don’t want to continue not speaking. I don’t. I am very sorry that we didn’t tell you.” Hera looks at Harry softly, her heart breaking when he brings his hands to her wrists and gently pulls her hands from his face. “I am sorry, Harry. I really am.” Harry doesn’t say anything. He can’t. “I’ll go, okay? I’m sorry for ruining your night. I am. I hope you can forgive me.”

“I don’t, I don’t want you to go, Hera.”

Hera looks at Harry, her hand on the doorknob and her heart beating rapidly in her chest, unsure of what to do. “Harry, what do you want me to do, then? I miss having you as my friend. I want you in my life. I don’t want another year, two years, ten years to go by without us speaking.”

“I, I don’t know if I can just be your friend, Hera. I don’t know if I could ever just be your friend.” Hera nods, not knowing what is coming next. Hera tries to brace herself for the idea that she may never see him again, that she may never have the chance of a family with him in it. “Can we meet for coffee, tomorrow? I, I want to talk to you, alone, and we can catch up on everything I’ve missed. I, I need to talk to you about this when I’m calm and not running off adrenaline and all the emotions from seeing you.”

“Okay,” Hera says softly, turning the knob and opening the door, already beginning to walk out into the hallway.

“Are you happy, Hera?” Harry says quickly, running his hands through his hair and trying to catch his breath. All of this is too much at once, too much information and feeling and confusion for the fifteen minutes they’ve been alone. Harry walks forward, grabs her wrist and says, “Like, really happy? You would tell me if you weren’t?”

“I think, yeah, I think I’m getting there.” Harry nods and Hera turns towards the room where everyone is waiting for their return. “I think we should go back. Gemma and Anne are likely looking for you. And Isla is going to look for me soon.”

“Of course, yeah,” Harry says, smiling softly and moving towards the doorway to the room. “Are you coming in?”

“I’ll be in in a minute,” Hera smiles, waving her hand towards the congregation of people in the dressing room and turning on her heel. Hera grabs her phone from her back pocket and dials the number she knows by heart, waiting patiently for it to ring. As long as Hera can remember, it never takes more than a ring or two for the call to be answered, and sure enough, on the first ring there is a voice coming through the other line. “Hey,” she says, immediately feeling washed over with comfort.

“Hi, baby. How was the show? Missed you all day.”

#harry #harry styles #harry x reader #harry styles fanfiction #delicate point of view #1d harry #1d harry styles #harry 1d #harry styles 1d #harry x #harry x you #harry x y/n #harry fic #harry fanfic #1d fan fic #1d fanfiction #1d fan fiction #1d fic #1d ff

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harrysxcarolina · 1 year

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Revenge - 01

Welcome to the beginning of Revenge. In this story you will be shown into the very dark and twisted lives of Raeelynn, Harry, and friends. This story is not for the weak. It will mention some very dark topics and triggering actions. Please use this as a warning, read at your own risk. This story is completely made up by me, and none of the events mentioned in this story is real nor has any of them happened to any of the characters, people that are mentioned, and/or portrayed in this story. This is the second warning that has been made in regards to this story, please be advise to refer back to the Revenge introduction for the full breakdown of what this story will contain. Now without further a do sit back, relax, and enjoy the roller coaster of emotions of Revenge.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: swearing, blood, angst, murder, death.

You used to tell me that I could be anything that I wanted to be when I was younger. You would wrap your arms around me and softly kiss my hair before whispering, "Raee promise me that you will always fight for your dreams. No dream is too big or too stupid. So promise me."

The naïve little girl underneath you would smile fully up at you before holding out her pinky and whispering, "I promise. Just for you."

I trusted you completely. I trusted that you would keep me safe. I believed you so easily back then. I was so blinded by you that I had no choice but to let your storytelling distract me from what you were really planning.

It used to be so simple back then. Life used to feel so magical as a kid. Telling yourself that everything is reachable and that one day I could be everything I ever dreamed of. When you get older you realize nothing will ever be that simple again. Well, now all I wanted to be was free. Free of the misery I feel. Free of the pain. Free of my haunted nightmares. Free of the constant reminder that I am not good enough. That I will never be good enough.

I just want to be free. To not feel like this anymore. I hate you. I hate you for making me believe that I could be anything. That I could go out and obtain anything my mind and heart ever wanted because all you did was set me up for failure. You didn't prepare me for the real world. You just kept encouraging me to live in a fantasy that will only turn into a nightmare.

And where are you now? Nowhere to be found. You left me in the moments I needed you the most. You left me all alone to deal with him. To deal with the aftermath of something I never created. You abandoned me and forced me to become someone I never wanted to be.

I used to miss you, and now all I do is hate you.

I hate how I was left with nothing but misery when you escaped and forgot to take me with you.

You don't know what he does to me. You don't know what he allows to happen to me. I want to believe that you didn't know what your actions would cause when you left. I used to tell myself that you didn't because if you did you wouldn't have left me behind. You would have come back and rescued me by now, but I've learned the hard way. You aren't coming. You did know, and you just didn't care. Nobody cares.

Nobody ever car-

"Okay everybody that wraps up today's class. For those of you still working on your thoughts, please finish up your free writing and if you'd like to leave your notepad on my desk, please do so. I will make sure to get them back to you at the start of next week. Don't forget that you have your written essay due on Monday. I expect everyone to have it completed and peer-reviewed by three peers along with your final draft when you turn it in. No exceptions. Have a great weekend!" Professor Tilly states as she stands from her desk, drawing me out of my daze. Glancing around the room watching others pack up their belongings and making their way out of the lecture hall, I begin to grab my things. Slowly marking my journal I close it and slide it deep into my bag.

"Ms. Scott, a word before you leave?" Professor Tilly speaks up as she makes eye contact with me. Her lips smack as her tongue slowly traces the outline of her mouth. Panic sets in. I glance down at my watch. 3:45 pm. I can't be late.

"Yeah sure." I manage to say as I quickly stand up and sling my bag over my shoulder and make my way to her desk. My body goes rigid as I feel myself begin to spiral in panic.

My fingernails slightly dig into my palm as I clench my hands. I can feel the heat radiating off my back as I try to come up with a good enough excuse to use in case she tries to keep me. I can't be late. I can't be late.

"How is the semester treating you?" She asks as she moves back behind her desk and sits on the edge. Her tight skirt slowly slides up her thighs as her hands catch my attention. She’s adjusting the pens in the pen holder that sits on the left corner of the wooden desk.

My chest constricts. My breathing hitches deep in my lungs. They feel like they are about to explode. Not only from the lack of oxygen, but from the pressure of trying to remain calm so she doesn’t catch on. I know where she is going with this. My hand gripping the bag slightly tighter than before.

"It’s uh- it’s going good. I'm enjoying it, Professor." I whisper as I slightly wince at the feeling of my nails digging a little deeper into my palm. Relax. I need to take a deep breath and relax. I can't be late. My eyes divert back down to the black notebooks on her desk.

"You have yet to leave your notes for review," she states. My heartbeat picks up. I fidget with the strap on my bag trying to avoid her eye contact.

"Uh yes, I know. I thought it wasn't a requirement that it gets reviewed by you. I thought-" I started off but was quickly interrupted.

"No, no of course not. I meant it when I said at the beginning of the term. These notepads are for your own personal progress through this class. Almost all of your peers have turned theirs in at least once to get guidance on their progress, and you have yet to do so once. I just wanted to check in and make sure that you have no questions in regards to it." She says as she catches my eye.

Shaking my head as my lip finds its way in between my teeth.

"I’m fine, thank you. I just like to keep my thoughts private," I explain as I sway back and forth slightly. My thoughts are more dark and twisted. They are far too gone to share with anyone except myself, but she doesn’t need to know that. She nods her head in agreement, not knowing the full depth of my darkness.

"Most writers do that. Some prefer the guidance of a village while writing and others are a bit more private when it comes to their thoughts and writing progress. I understand completely. Well, in that case, please have a wonderful weekend, and I look forward to reading your essay on Monday," she states as a chuckle leaves her lips. Giving a small wave, I make my way towards the door quickly glancing down at my watch. 3:58 pm. Shit, I'm going to be late.

Picking up my pace, I quickly make my way out of the lecture hall and across the campus to my car.

***

"Casey it's not that simple," I say with a chuckle as I grab ahold of the stepping ladder and slowly climb up to put the last few books back on the shelf.

"I don't see how it's not Raeelynn. Clearly, he likes you as he keeps coming into the store at the same time every day just to get a small glance at you. Don't be naïve and say that you don't see the way that he smirks at you," my best friend, Casey says with a laugh as she walks behind the ladder and holds up a few more books for me to grab and put away.

Shaking my head, I take one book at a time and gently place them on the shelf.

"All I'm saying is it won't hurt that tomorrow when he walks in you simply just say hi. He's been coming in for a few weeks now and you've yet to even speak to him. The poor mate keeps trying to bait me for information on you. I give him credit though he hasn't given up," Casey says as she slightly taps my arse making us both slightly lose balance, me more so than her.

"I've told you time and time again that I am in no place to date or even entertain the idea of dating someone right now. I have too much on my plate. Therefore, I have no reason to talk to him," I state as I slowly make my way down the stepping ladder and make my way to the back of the store to throw the empty box away. Casey huffs in annoyance but follows me.

"Look, you've said that for the past two years. Don't you think it's time to get back on the horse and try again? I know Logan really messed with your head, but babe you've come a long way. Maybe it's time to start letting someone in to help you take some of your stress away." She gently laces her arm with mine and pulls me to a stop. Taking a deep breath we both glance at each other.

"You know that it has nothing to do with Logan, and no one will ever be able to help take my stress away. Plus I’m not going to rely on someone else to help me with any of my stress. All I have is myself. I’ve definitely learned that the hard way."

"Why do you think that way? Why do you think that you are unsavable? Raeelynn, you are amazing, and anyone would be lucky enough to have you. Fight for you." Her eyes get softer and she gives me a gentle squeeze. If only she knew the truth.

Sighing, I pull her in for a hug, "thanks, Cas. I appreciate you. I just can't do it right now. There are things that can't and will not change, so there is no point in trying. At least right now.” She holds me back and I gently lay my head against her shoulder, wishing things could be different. But I know that they will never be any different than they are right now. I wish I could tell you everything, friend. I really do, but it will only ruin you too and I can't drag you down into hell with me. You're too good for it. Forcing a smile onto my face, I pull away but keep her at arm's distance.

“All right let's get the rest of these books stocked or Gloria will have our arses." I say, causing us both to laugh as we make our way into the back room.

***

"Okay, so your total comes out to be $46.53. Would you like me to bag up these items for you in paper or plastic?" I ask as I gather up the books that were just purchased. Taking a deep breath and glancing at the clock, I try to hold back my nerves as the time is getting closer to closing. Today went by too fast.

"Um, plastic will be fine, thank you." The customer states as she continues to rummage through her purse trying to find the exact amount of change for her bill. I quickly bag up the items and print off her receipt, wishing her a good night. Picking up a few misplaced things, I take my time putting them back in their rightful homes as I avoid looking at the clock.

"Alright dear, that does it for me. I'm going to head out for the night. Are you sure you'll be okay to stay by yourself? I know I sent Casey home earlier, but if you need me to stay with you, I don't mind. It's pretty dark out and I wouldn't want anything to happen to you, dear." A soft and gentle voice whispers behind me. I couldn't help but smile as a warm feeling of comfort spread through my body. She was always so worried about me closing up the shop all by myself, but I know how to handle my own. I definitely made sure of it too. More like forced to.

"Yes, of course. You go ahead and head out. I'm sure I can handle it. It won't take me too long, so you have nothing to worry about." We both make our way to the front of the store and begin to close the blinds on the windows. Smiling back at me, she gently pulls me in for a tight squeeze.

"Okay, well, you have my home phone if anything were to go wrong. There are a few boxes in the back that I didn't get to do today. If you wouldn't mind putting out the new merchandise to help stock up for the big sale tomorrow?" She asked as I followed her out to the curb and watched her as she gathered up her keys.

"Yes, of course. I will have everything all set up for you, and I will make sure to call if I need you. Now go on and get home before I have Richard blowing up the store phone asking me why you are late for your Friday dinner!" I chuckle as I shoo her towards her car. She laughs a contagious laugh as she gets in and pulls away.

Shaking my head as I make my way back into the store, making sure to lock the door behind me. I get to work on unboxing the new shipment of books. After what felt like forever, I finally finished going through all the clearance books. I replace them with the new, upcoming author and make sure to place the proper coupons out on the display.

After breaking down all the boxes and placing them in the back room, I go through the store and turn off all the lamps and lights and take one last glance around to make sure I didn't miss anything. I finished cashing out the registers, stocking the shelves, and getting the displays set up for tomorrow. Taking a deep breath I, unfortunately, cannot stall anymore. Gathering up my belongings, I make my way to the back door and lock up.

Heading down through the alleyway behind the bookstore, I dig in my purse for my keys. I source through each and every pocket and I can’t seem to find them. I make a mental note to switch out bags once I get back to the apartment because I can't handle the stress of losing my keys. It's not helping that this alleyway is poorly lit and I have to stop to use my phone flashlight. Finally, after taking every single item out of my purse I found the bloody bastards at the bottom of the bag. Recollecting myself, I begin to walk again only to stop dead in my tracks only after a few steps. There are a few loud bangs and thuds echoing around me causing me to slowly look around.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary. There’s the usual dumpster, a very skinny, homeless cat that looks like it has to have at least 3 diseases, and darkness. Rounding the corner, just a few yards away from where I was standing, there was a really nice black Mercedes. That wasn't there a moment ago. I slowly start to walk again. A cold chill worked its way down my spine causing me to shiver and pull my jacket closer to my body. The crisp air is getting the best of me once again.

"Johnson, this is your last chance. Where the hell is my shit?" A deep, raspy voice shouts, clearly pissed.

"Lo-look I just need a little bit more time to... to get the rest of it. That's all." A shaky and very whiny voice responds.

I slowly and very quietly take a few steps forward, trying to get a better view of where the voices are coming from. I peek up over the dumpster, finally able to see who the voices belong to. Two guys are standing at the back end of the Mercedes, one taller than the other. The taller one is slender, but with a muscular body. His hair is untamed as his dark unruly curls go in every direction. The smaller one is scruffy, very skinny, and looks like he hasn't bathed in weeks. His hair is all chopped up and greasy. The taller one is holding the shorter one by the collar of his shirt. I try to squint my eyes, hoping to get a better look at the two, unable to make out their faces from how dark the alleyway is.

"I have already given you two weeks. Two weeks over your deadline. Johnson, you fucked me over and I never give second chances." He says through clenched teeth as he pulls Johnson up off the ground and in the air.

"No... no, I didn't fuck you over, Styles, I swear! I just had something come up and I had to use the money, but I swear, I'll get it back to you. Just give me one more day, please!" Johnson begs as his legs involuntarily swing back and forth. Styles lets go of him, dropping him on his arse. Styles looks down at him without saying a thing for a moment or two.

"You are a piece of scum. You weasel your way through life thinking that you can get away with every bloody thing," Styles spits as he kneels down so he is face to face with him. The smaller guy tries to scoot away but doesn't get far, as he is met with the dead end of the brick wall behind him.

"Please. I swear I can get every penny. If Robin was here, he would understand. I just need more time." There was a pause. What the hell am I doing? I’m standing here like an idiot watching this shit. I must be losing my mind. I begin to back away but, I’m once again, drawn back in. A deep chuckle flows through the air and I see Styles throw his head back in laughter.

"Bloody hell. You must be really fucking stupid. Did you really just say that to me? Compare me to Robin? Well, guess what? Robin isn't here. What makes you think that I would actually care what he would have done? Let me tell you why I don't care. Low lives like you are what is causing the destruction. I'm here to clean up the mess Robin made," Styles sneers as he stands back up and quickly runs his hand through his curls. He slowly turns around and faces my direction causing me to quickly duck behind the dumpster. Licking his lips, he turns back on his heel.

"Get out of my face. This is your last warning. If you don't have my money by tomorrow, you'll have a bullet with your name on it. Trust me. I never miss what I aim at," Styles says through clenched teeth. Johnson gets up and starts to speed walk in the opposite direction, but before he can make it far there's a loud bang. His body slowly falls to the wet ground as the blood seeps through his dirty clothes. I gasp and drop to my knees.

My eyes grow big. My stomach drops. I feel sick to my stomach at what's in front of me. His body lying lifeless in front of me. I hear footsteps getting closer to me and the body. I freeze not knowing whether to move or not. Styles pushes the body over with ease by the tip of his shoe. The body flips so he's now laying on his back. He leans down and quickly pulls a phone out of his pocket.

"It's Styles. I need a cleanup on the corner of Blackburn and Lisbon. Be discreet and hurry. We don't need this getting out. Tell Robin the job is done. I'll be there in fifteen." With that, he ends the call. Standing up from his crouching position he continues to stare down at the scrawny, blood-soaked body.

"Scum like you is what makes this job fun." He unlocks the black Mercedes before reaching in the dead guy's pockets pulling something out and twiddling it between his fingertips. I can't tell what it is, but seeing by the look on his face, it’s clearly something important. I gasp with horror as the warm crimson blood slowly makes its way closer to the tip of my shoes. I quickly cover my mouth, my gaze shoots up in hopes he didn’t hear my stupid mistake. My eyes widen and my stomach begins to twist into knots as the man I just witnessed murder another person looks me dead in the eyes. I feel the color drain out of my face. His stare doesn’t leave mine as they dilate and become coal black. Well fuck. Do I run? Do I scream? Both? Oh hell, what if he murders me next.

My body goes completely numb as he begins to take steps toward me. I have to run or I'm going to end up just like that man lifeless on the ground. I quickly turn and run the opposite way. I don't even look back to see if he is behind me. I just keep running. Getting closer to the street lights. My legs are getting tired, but I keep pumping them. My adrenaline is sky-high as I feel my heart pounding in my chest. Heavy footsteps are behind me.

I’m gasping for air, and my legs are getting tired but I must keep running. Internally cruising myself for always skipping gym days. My chest feels like it is getting tighter and tighter by the second. My lungs feel like they are about to catch fire at any second. Flashes of the dead man and all his blood keep replaying in my head as it gets harder for me to breathe. There’s a corner coming up, and I see the Chinese Takeout sign from the place I always order food from. I'm on fifty-second street!! Oh sweet Jesus there's a police station just a block away!

I press my legs harder and faster giving it the last of my energy. I need to stay alive. I need to get to the station. His footsteps are getting closer and closer to me. I'm trying to run faster but my tired legs won't let me. My breathing has gotten worse. Deeper. Harsher. My body is tired but I'm almost there. I see the street light getting brighter and brighter the closer I get.

Finally, I reach the corner, quickly turning and pressing my legs even harder. I keep replaying that dead man's picture in my mind. That's going to be you Raeelynn if you don't run faster.

Maybe I should stop. Maybe he'll listen when I tell him that I won't tell the cops. That I'll act as if I didn't see anything. That I was never even in the alleyway, to begin with. I know I am being delusional. There is no way in hell that he is going to just let me walk away from this alive. Especially because that’s what everyone says in this situation and they always go to the damn cops. He won’t believe me. Shit, I wouldn’t even believe myself.

Keep running. You don't want to die! You have your whole life ahead of you! Not like my life is something I want to keep living, but I guess anything is better than dying. I try to pump my legs harder, faster even, but it seems like no matter how hard I try they won't go any faster. I feel like I am moving in slow motion at this point. I see the station just ahead of me but no matter how hard I push my tired legs it never gets closer. Just as I am about to reach the front steps, I'm roughly grabbed and yanked to a stop.

"If you even make the slightest bloody peep I will kill you. Do you understand?" His rugged voice said close to my ear. I felt his harsh breathing down my neck as his grip on my elbow grew tighter. I slowly nodded my head as I tried to regain my breathing. I force myself to remember all the great times I've had in the short 22 years of my life. There weren't many, but there were some.

I don’t dare say a word as tears slide down my cheeks. He remains quiet as he drags me back down the road, cautiously looking in every direction. We reach the dark alley and he pulls me past the body, towards his car. It takes everything in me not to vomit all over my shoes as my eyes can’t seem to leave his lifeless body as I pass.

I can't believe he killed him. That's going to be me soon. What the bloody hell did I just get myself into? As if my life isn’t already complete shit.

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