H.

"This is a flight I never thought I'd be on again," I said honestly, as the captain announced that we would now be landing at the Sea-Tac airport.

"Me neither, mate, to be honest," Liam shrugged, "remind me only ever to catch long, cramped flights like this for hot guys with lots of money."

I chuckled, "I'll do my best."

I leant back into my seat, turning my attention back to the window as I plugged an earphone into each ear, allowing my music to blast. I shot Liam another glance as he hummed quietly to himself, nervously dragging his lip between his teeth as the plane took a left, headed for the runway.

Liam was absolutely shitting himself - it was pretty obvious in the way he couldn't seem to keep still; his left knee constantly shaking upwards and downwards in anticipation, and his hands fidgeting in a never-ending movement. I didn't blame him. Liam had always been pretty close to his dad, and for him to fall ill with something as brutal as cancer. Liam had no idea what condition his dad would be in - knowing Liam, that was what scared him most. He was somebody who liked to be aware of everything - always - spontaneity had never particularly been his strong suit like it was mine; he liked to be aware, and at this moment in time - he wasn't.

I wasn't sure what to say to him, really - what to tell him. I wished there was some kind of reassurance I could provide him with to make his worries go away - but words didn't come, and the silence took over like it always seemed to.

We landed and grabbed our bags with little conversation in between, only a slight delay when an obnoxious woman took an age to get her bag from the overhead compartment - and when I offered to grab it for her due to her clear struggling, she'd stupidly chided in response, "What, you think I can't get my own bag 'cause I'm a woman?", to which I'd simply rolled my eyes and allowed the plane to be held up for another five or so minutes. Fucking Americans.

As I slipped into the cab beside me and we began to move along the street, the knot in my stomach beginning to tighten as the town I'd become so familiar with drew back into view. A town I could never truly leave behind.

I knew it was only a matter of days before I'd see her again; went back to that godawful school at the request of my Mum to complete my final month of school, and then graduate. I knew I'd inevitably have to face her, and though I'd desperately tried to convince myself otherwise - I would not be able to brush past her in the hallway without saying a word, pass her in the street without a second look, or return to normal without crossing her path, no matter how hard I tried.

I sighed, sinking further into the backseat of the cab and running a hand through my hair, exhaling deeply once more as I mentally reminded myself to cut it soon. I'd trimmed it every so often back in Manchester in attempts to tame the unruly curls, but it now it reached my shoulders as it had before, and I'd yet to get round to booking a haircut - not to mention the fact I barely had a tenner to spare to get one. Another mental note was made to get a bloody job for a bit while I was in town.

"Haz," Liam murmured suddenly, stirring me from a slumber I wasn't aware I'd fallen into, "We're here, c'mon."

"Mm?" I hummed, lifting my head from the window and wincing a little at the sharp pain in my neck caused by the position I'd slept in, blinking back the sleep already prominent in my eyes. Though it must've been less than an hour, it was the most I'd slept in weeks undisturbed - with no haunting dreams and nightmares, and with no reminders of her. I yearned to fall back into that.

It was dark out, and as I pushed the car door open, the cool yet humid night air whipped at my skin. I tugged the sleeves of my sweater over my hands and balled them into fists, dragging myself out of the backseat to lift both Liam and I's cases from the back, too tired to bicker with him about the fact he should grow up and get the strength to lift his own suitcase.

Once Liam had paid the cab fare and unlocked the front door to his parents' house, I dragged the two bags inside, heading straight upstairs to dump them, only to return back to the kitchen where Liam sat with his parents.

"Harry!" Liam's mum squealed happily, pulling me into a hug as I came into view. I couldn't help but send Liam a smirk - I'd always been Karen's favourite.

"Karen, hey," I chuckled, hugging her back the best I could, and then extending my hand out to Liam's dad for him to shake warmly, "Geoff."

"Harry, son - you alright?" he asked me, and I nodded slowly, wondering how this man could put up such a great front and ask me if I was okay. He looked tired, his skin blotchy, and his eyes sunken in with dark, dark circles - but he didn't look as ill as we'd both expected.

After an hour or so of conversing, Karen and Geoff both headed off for bed, leaving just Liam and I behind.

"You know," Liam began, biting into a piece of toast and munching loudly, "Niall's in town."

I hummed, taking a sip from my cup of tea, "Is he?" I asked, rather uninterested.

"Yeah," Liam bit down on his lip, and I wrinkled my nose, knowing his infatuation with Niall, "He's on his way here, too."

"Argh," I groaned, setting my mug down, "You're gonna fuck him in your bloody parents' house again? Gross, man-"

"No! Shut up!" Liam exclaimed, as if to shield his parents from overhearing the vulgarity, "He's coming over and he's bringing pizza. That's all."

"Mm," I shot him a knowing look, standing up to dump my mug in the sink before returning to my chair, "Why's he really coming?"

"To bring pizza," Liam lied, and I scoffed.

"Why?"

"Um," he stammered, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck, "I just thought since we haven't eaten, and-"

"You're eating toast," I pointed out, licking my lips teasingly as he huffed. I knew how badly he wanted Niall here, and despite the fact Niall only wanted the odd blowjob from him while Liam was chasing after a bloody marriage - I just wanted him to admit it.

"Fuck off," he whined, pulling up the hood of his hoodie as if to drown out the sound of my voice, and I chuckled, sitting back in my chair.

The doorbell rang, and I jumped up, practically racing to the front door, much to Liam's dismay as he desperately tried to hold me back, screeching loud enough to wake the dead.

"Niall!" I beamed as I swung the door open, leaning casually against the doorframe as I kicked Liam back easily with my foot, sending him crashing into a cupboard behind me - but still kept out of sight from Niall with my body and the door.

"Harry," he trailed off, gripping a pizza box in his hand as expected, "didn't know you'd be here."

"A good surprise, though, I'm hoping - yeah, mate?" I pressed, finding great humour in Liam's continuous protests and Niall's confused facial expression, "What you here for, then?"

"Um -" he bit his lip, lifting up the box, "I just bought pizza, and um - is that Liam whining?"

"Maybe," I said nonchalantly, kicking my foot back quickly to send Liam toppling back to the ground behind the door, "Thanks for the pizza," I continued to torture the two of them, grabbing the box from Niall's grip as Liam muttered something about me being a cockblock. I rolled my eyes, allowing Niall to step inside.

"You're a cunt," Liam huffed, standing up and prodding my chest.

"And you're a daft prick," I retorted, clutching the box to my chest and making my way towards the stairs, "I'm off to bed then. Don't do anything I wouldn't."

"But the pizza-"

"G'night!" I headed into the guest room I'd be staying in, clambering onto the bed and ripping open the pizza box, grabbing a slice and taking a bite. I almost moaned at the taste - the local pizza something so incredibly unbeatable.

When I'd finished eating, it was already past midnight - yet my exhaustion seemed to have faltered. I lay back against the mattress, and I just desperately hoped I'd be able to fall asleep without my own mind having an objection. I pulled my replacement phone out of my pocket. It was cheap, it was slow - but I'd managed to load my old contacts, conversations, and photos onto it, and so it would do. I glanced at the time - 12:28. I blew out a breath, my finger hovering over the Instagram app as it often did, tempted to stalk her page like usual - but I knew it would only upset me, and so instead I swiped along - opening my messages to type a response to Mum, letting her know I'd arrived back safely. I clicked out of our conversation, eyeing the rest of them. The only recent ones being Mum and Liam - the rest dated back to December, when I'd actually had reason to text.

There was a conversation with Tasha - simple; boring, about stopping by her place to consult her about a Christmas present.

And then there was her name. The conversation disregarded, untouched since early January. The sight of her name was enough to send a shiver down my spine - her contact picture so effortlessly stunning - she was laughing at something I'd said, her lips parted, her teeth showing in a wide grin, and the crinkles by her eyes visible as ever.

"That joke was the worst one yet," she clutched her stomach, her teeth tugging on her bottom lip as her grin only widened.

"Oh yeah?" I teased with a chuckle, wrapping my arms around her waist, "Then why are you laughing so hard, love?"

"I'm laughing at how bad it was," she argued playfully, pressing a kiss to my jaw as I couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Give me a proper kiss, then."

"That was proper," she retorted, our foreheads pressed together.

"Baby," I said in a sing-song voice, "you have about three seconds to kiss me like you mean it, before I tickle you," I mused, "One."

Her eyes searched mine, "You wouldn't dare.."

"Two.."

"Harry Styles, if you even-"

"Three!" I flipped her body beneath mine, bringing my fingertips to her waist and tickling her to the point where she roared with laughter, throwing her head back in protest.

"I hate you!" she exclaimed somewhere within her roars of laughter, as I grabbed my phone from my pocket, snapping a picture. I wanted that moment captured more than ever.

I looked beside me, almost as if she would appear, if I only wished hard enough. But then I realised I didn't really want her here - she was probably cuddled up on that window seat she loved so much in the arms of that stupid Hemmings guy she was fucking around with, as she blared our favourite songs from the record player she was forever forgetting to clean.

11:48PM- : Wake up.

11:48PM - I'm not asleep

11:48PM- : I miss you.

11:48PM - I miss you more; what's wrong? x

11:49PM- : Nothing's wrong. I just want to see you.

11:49PM- In a few days, my loveeee

11:49PM- : Too far away.

11:56PM - My mom is crazy.

11:57PM- : Old news there, love.

11:57PM- How's everything at home? x

11:57PM- : I just really want to see you, princess.

11:58PM- Not so great, then?

She always knew. Always, always knew when it was going wrong - always, always knew how to fix it. The conversation then progressed into playing iMessage games, and then I'd called her.

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. It was so pathetic - the foolish optimism I'd possessed as I lay there that night, thinking that even if it all turned to pure and utter shit - it wouldn't matter, because I still had her. She was mine, and I knew that when I went to bed at night and when I opened my eyes in the morning. I'd felt it when I met her; though unclear - she was my girl.

I tore off my clothes, shuffling under the covers, desperate for sleep to come and provide an escape from the thoughts that kept me awake. But it didn't. There was a bitter hope I'd always possessed, and I knew I secretly still did. That at the end of the day - she'd be my girl. Now I woke up each morning with the emptiness in the pit of my stomach, and the cold on my skin - she wasn't mine at all.