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It was too bright - the sun shining directly into my face disturbing my slumber far earlier than I would've liked. I groaned, burying my face further into the pillow, the pounding in my head immediately making itself known. I sat up slowly, steadying myself as my eyes focused on my surroundings - this wasn't my room.

My heart sank as the realization set in - this was Harry's room.

"Shit," I murmured, quickly looking beside me to see the other side of the bed fully made; untouched. I looked down - this shirt wasn't mine. I knew the smell immediately, and my heart stopped, examining my attire - underwear on? Check. So at least I still had some dignity.

The door was pushed open, and I jumped in surprise as Harry walked casually into the room, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. He hummed quietly as he wandered over to what I presumed was his closet, not even glancing at me for a moment as he pulled out some sweatpants and a black tee.

I cleared my throat, causing him to spin around, "Oh, Ana - you're awake," he shifted awkwardly, clutching the clothes in his left hand. My eyes examined him, his hair wet, hanging low over his face - his skin still damp from the shower; his lack of clothes revealing tattoos on his body I'd never seen before. A large butterfly was inked onto his stomach, and I found myself intrigued by what it symbolised - but I didn't ask.

"My head hurts," was all I could say, as he chuckled lightly.

"I'm not surprised," he shrugged, turning his back to me again, as he dropped his towel. My jaw dropped as he pulled on a pair of boxers - not before giving me a clear view of his ass - and pulled on the sweatpants - the shirt remaining discarded on the surface beside the closet, "I'll get you some aspirin, yeah?" he turned back to face me, shooting me a small smile, as if he didn't just give me a beautiful view of his whole damn ass.

He left the room, returning moments later with a couple aspirin and a bottle of water, which I gladly took, instantly feeling a little replenished.

"What am I doing here?" I asked slowly, unsure of what really to say to him. It had only been days since he had done what he did, and as much as I yearned to feel hatred and anger towards him - I still couldn't. Only hurt.

"You were smashed last night," he explained, sitting down on the edge of the bed, "you rang me."

"I did?" I frowned, with no remembrance of what I'd done the night before - I must've been really drunk.

"Mm," he hummed, his eyes watching me closely "and so I let you crash here."

I bit my lip, picking up the courage to ask, "We didn't.. do anything, right?"

"God, Ana, is that what you think of me?" he sighed, "I'd never put you in such a vulnerable position."

I exhaled in relief. The last thing I needed was to have hooked up with Harry while I was totally out of it, "Good."

"That doesn't mean you didn't try, though," he teased, and I raised my eyebrows.

"You're bluffing.." I narrowed my eyes. Harry moved his hair away from his neck, showcasing a dark purple bruise just below his jaw, a glint of humor in his eyes, "I didn't do that."

"You did, but I stopped you before you could do anything else," he mused, and I groaned.

"God, I shouldn't be here," I shook my head, "I shouldn't be talking to you."

"We need to talk eventually, Ana," he breathed, "I was going to come to yours today anyway."

"There's no point, Harry," I bit my lip, "you said everything that needed to be said."

"Ana," he sighed, reaching for my hand, "you know me well enough to know I didn't mean a word of that.."

I drew my hand back quickly, "Don't," I warned, and he raised his hands, shooting me a look.

"Hear me out?" he pleaded, "please."

"No," I frowned, pushing the covers off myself, "Where are my clothes?"

"The dryer, where I put them earlier - they're not done yet," Harry sighed, "please sit down."

"Why should I?" I folded my arms, causing his shirt to rise on my body, revealing much more of my upper thigh. I didn't notice until I caught his eyes on me, quickly tugging the shirt back down.

"You're stubborn, Ana Grace," he squinted, shaking his head, "sit down."

"I'm not stubborn," I protested, "give me my clothes."

"You are," he said calmly; monotonously, "sit."

I rolled my eyes, taking a seat, "Right. Talk."

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Don't fuck this up, now, Harry - she's agreed to hear you out. Don't. Fuck. It. Up.

Just tell her how you feel - what you're thinking; how sorry you are, and fucking pray she takes you back. Man up, Harry - come on.

"Listen.." No, too cliché - what the fuck, man? Sort yourself out.

"I just wanted to, um.." That's even worse, mate.

"Ana, I'm-" Shut up.

"God," I laughed shakily, starting again for the fourth time, "I don't know how to, um- fucking hell," I grunted, Ana looking at me puzzled. "Do you mind if I grab a cig?" I blurted suddenly, and she nodded without hesitation. She knew the nicotine would instantly settle any anxiety I possessed, and she didn't protest when I grabbed one from the nightstand and lit it - that was one thing I adored about her.

I blew the smoke between my lips, the knot I felt between my shoulder blades instantly loosening, my chest instantly lowering. I cleared my throat, relaxation overtaking me as my eyes fluttered shut for a moment before I spoke again, "'m sorry."

"Don't be," she soothed, and I nodded. Bloody hell, she was so stunning. My shirt far too big for her, hanging off one of her shoulders - her hair wrecked, and her eyes tired - I hated that. I hated the exhaustion her gaze held, but she still managed to look so incredible.

"I want this to be something, Ana," I admitted, twiddling the cig between my fingers.

Her eyes closed for a moment, "This isn't anything," she said quietly, and I shook my head.

"We both know that's not true," my eyes met hers and I exhaled deeply, "this can be whatever the fuck we want it to be. All I know is that I just want you. I need you," I couldn't help but add, and she frowned.

"You had sex with her, didn't you?" she asked gently, and I sighed.

"Ana.."

"Didn't you?"

I nodded slowly, confirming her suspicion, a knot tying in my stomach as I watched her wince a little. I knew she was picturing it - I didn't want that. I took another drag of my cigarette - fuck, give me a little courage.

"I'm so, so fucking sorry, Ana," and for the first time in my life - I said it and meant it, "God, I'm so sorry," I repeated as a single tear rolled down her soft cheek, landing in her lap. She was crying - what are you supposed to do when a girl cries-? Shit.

"I hate myself for doing that to you, yeah? I've regretted it ever since, I swear to you-"

"Is that supposed to make it better?" she asked suddenly, and I bit my lip.

"I can't change what I did to you," I said quietly, "as much as I'd like to. I should never have said those things to you - none of them were true. Not one thing."

"You said you hated me," she whispered, "I can't have you hate me, Harry."

"No, no, no," I murmured, taking her chin gently in my hand, "I could never, ever hate you, Ana. No matter how fucking screwed up I am; no matter how drunk I get - I could never tell you I hate you and mean it."

"No," she drew back from my touch, "you don't get to do that and make everything okay."

"I'm sorry," I repeated, as my eyes began to sting - what? Why were they stinging? I blinked - something in them?

"Why did you get so drunk?" she asked me, and I bit my lip. Had this been any other time; any other person, I'd have told them to fuck off and left them with no explanation. But this was Ana.

"Well, I-" I was cut off by the door swinging open, connecting with the wall with a sudden bang, causing the both of us to jump - and it wasn't likely to be doing Ana's hangover any favours.

"Liam, stop being a cunt," I gritted my teeth, running a hand through my hair as Ana watched him confusedly.

"Who's..?" she trailed off, and Liam plonked himself directly between us on the bed, a wide grin on his face.

"I'm Liam," he offered her his hand, which she took, "we met last night, but you were a bit out of it."

Ana's cheeks flushed a deep pink, the embarrassment of the night before still fresh in her mind, "Oh, God," she winced, "I'm sorry about that. I'm Ana - and I'm usually sober, I swear."

"Eh, it's alright - I'm used to it with this one," Liam quipped, nodding towards me, to which I responded with a slap to the back of his head.

"Get out, Liam," I huffed, as he screeched, rubbing his head dramatically.

"Holy shit, Styles!" he whined, "my head - oh my god, my head - I think it's broken." I rolled my eyes, while Ana chuckled.

"I'm not sure that's how it works," she laughed uneasily, shaking her head, "but it's fine, you can stay - I'm gonna head home anyway, I think."

My face fell, "But we were talking.."

"We can talk another time," she said, but she didn't sound like she meant it, as she stood up from the bed, only covered by my shirt skimming her thighs. I caught Liam staring, and if he wasn't gay, he would've got another slap.

"Oh, but I thought-"

"My clothes are in the dryer, yeah?" she ignored me, and I nodded as she left the room without another word.

I groaned, flopping back onto the bed, "Thanks for that, mate," I scoffed, and Liam gasped.

"It's not my fault you didn't say shit!" he protested, and I whacked him in the chest, causing him to shriek again, "she doesn't want to talk to you, Haz - accept it."

"Harry," I said bitterly, sitting up, "if she needs a ride, I'm taking your car."

"Whatever, mate," he sighed, weakly rubbing the spot where I'd hit him as I stood up in search of Ana.

"Ana?" I called out, "if you need a ride, I'm-" I was cut off by the front door slamming shut, and I huffed, frustratedly slamming my palm against the wall.

And just like that, again - I'd let her go.

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