"You know," he cleared his throat, and I still didn't let my eyes meet his, finding great fascination in the patio floor, "I had about a million and one things I told myself I'd say if I got to see you again."

"So say them," I said a little weakly, anxiously bringing my bottom lip between my forefinger and thumb, as I waited for him to speak again.

"I can't," I tried to ignore the small crack in his voice, "Now you're here, and I can't."

"I've always been here. It's you who wasn't."

"That's not my fault," he argued gently, and I nodded slowly, eyes still fixated on the floor.

"I know," was all I said, chewing on my nail. Silence fell between us, only the sound of rustling leaves in the wind as it picked up, the sky darkening even further as grey clouds drew over our heads, and I let out an inaudible sigh.

"Are you happy?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence between us as I blew out a breath.

"I don't know," I shifted uncomfortably, and if it were possible, his stare began to burn even further through me, and I knew if I connected our eyes, I'd melt. I wasn't happy, of course I wasn't - but I would never admit that to him, and I'd never say straight-up that I was. H always knew when I was lying through my teeth.

"Does he make you happy?" Harry asked slowly, and I frowned, my eyes immediately darting to his to see him watching me just as closely as before, and so I quickly broke the eye contact.

"Who?" I asked cluelessly, bringing my knees to my chest.

"You know who," he said weakly, and as he spoke all I wanted to do was reach over and wrap my arms around him. But I couldn't.

"I don't," I said honestly, "Who are you talking about?" He couldn't possibly think I was with somebody.

"That Hemmings guy," he said bitterly, and I immediately felt my chest tighten; he thought I was with Luke. "Please don't deny it, Ana, I just want to know if he makes you happy."

"I'm not with Luke," I shook my head, "I'm not."

Harry blew out a breath, sitting back in his chair, "I'm sorry for not texting, not calling." I turned to look at him, "that's the biggest mistake I've ever made."

"Then why did you make it?" I almost scoffed, "I texted you for days on end - all I needed was some kind of response from you."

"You didn't need me around," his eyes still never left me, "you deserve so, so much better than what I gave you."

"You don't know shit about what I need," I shook my head again, "not shit."

"Ana-"

"I don't blame you for leaving Harry - I never could," I interrupted him, "I played more of a part in that than anyone, and for that I am so sorry. Everyday I wonder why I had to come in and ruin your life, make you leave the damn country, just because I was so selfish with you," I bit my lip, "but leaving me for months is not something you can justify. You could've texted; called - anything was better than silence."

"We broke up," I caught him shake his head now out of the corner of my eye, pushing his long hair out of his face, "I would've only made it worse."

"You couldn't have made it worse," I shook my head, fiddling with the sleeves of my sweater. "It's not your fault you had to go, but that doesn't change the fact that I needed you."

"And I needed you," he returned immediately, and I closed my eyes for a moment, leaning my head back.

"Are you happy?" I asked in the same way he had, turning to meet his eyes now. Immediately I was entranced, his effortlessly stunning green irises arising goosebumps on my skin within seconds.

"No," he replied, the way his eyes bored into mine almost bringing tears to them. I knew he was telling the truth by the way his eyes, though beautiful, held a dull presence - he looked tired, emphasised by the dark rings around them. I could see pain, vulnerability. He wasn't happy without me, and that tore me apart.

I sighed, reaching up to tighten my ponytail which was more or less falling out at this point, as I caught Harry's eyes flicker to my wrist where my sleeve had ridden up. His eyes widened immediately for a moment, and I came to the realisation of what he'd seen, quickly tugging my sleeve back down.

"You still wear it," he pointed out, his voice barely a whisper as he inched his chair closer to me, and I bit my lip, tugging my sleeves into my fists once more, silently cursing myself for having it on, "I didn't think you'd still wear it."

I nodded slowly, looking down at my wrist, unsure of what to say. I'd barely taken it off since the day Harry had given it to me, the silver chain and charm with his initial engraved too beautiful for me to let go - the way he'd pressed his lips to the small embellishment on the final day I'd seen him. When I wore it, he was here, even though I shouldn't have wanted him to be.

"I love you so much, Ana Grace," Harry murmured suddenly, and I immediately felt my eyes begin to sting with tears, "I loved you then and I love you now."

"Don't," I said weakly, not daring to meet his eyes this time.

"I thought I could stop," his voice broke again, and it felt as if somebody had wound a rope around my heart and was pulling it; tightening the grip, increasing the pressure, "but I can't. I look at you now and I still have the same adoration I had for you six months ago. And I know I don't deserve you, but I fucking love you."

"Harry," I bit my lip, desperately staring at the ground in hopes it would open up and drag me down underneath the surface.

"Look at me," he pressed gently, and I turned to do so, "look me in the eyes and tell me you don't love me anymore, and that'll be it."

"I can't," I whimpered, my lips beginning to shake as I precariously struggled to grasp onto any ounce of composure I possessed before repeating, "I can't."

"Then tell me you do," he pleaded, holding my stare with undeniable intensity, searching my eyes desperately as I could've sworn he began to tear up.

I shook my head, "Last time I told you I loved you, you were taken from me."

"Then tell me again," he begged, and I wanted more than anything to cave in and tell him the truth, "Tell me you love me again, and see that I'm not going anywhere."

And as our eyes burned into each others', all I wanted to do was tell him. I wanted to scream at him that I loved him; so incredibly in love with him, to wrap my arms around his neck and tangle my fingers in his unruly curls as his arms met my waist, holding me closer than ever as I kissed him until I couldn't kiss him anymore. I wanted to as feel safe as I always had with him, to feel loved, and to feel like I was enough - I wanted his touch. I wanted to lay with him underneath the covers of his bed, inhaling the smell of smoke and cologne as he brought his arms around me, pressing long, sweet and loving kisses to my forehead, my neck, my jaw, and the shell of my ear as he whispered sweet nothings to me until I fell asleep, stroking my hair and drawing soothing circles on my waist. I wanted to hear him roar with laughter as he cracked some vulgar joke, to grab me by my hips and pinch me lightly so I'd part my lips in a squeal and he could capture them in his own. I wanted to sit on the balcony, him in a chair and me seated comfortably on his lap with my head buried in his neck as he read to me, the beautiful low rasp of his voice reading every word with such heed, his breath catching in his throat in the most adorable way when I'd press my lips lightly to his throat every so often. I wanted his head in my lap and my hands in his hair as some movie we weren't paying attention to blared in the background, and we remained content with the stare of one another for countless minutes. I wanted to feel the way I'd felt when he'd looked at me the way he did the night he'd made love to me - the way he'd leant over me, his skin glistening and his eyes holding the beautiful glint they always did as his stare engulfed me - the mixture of pure lust and adoration in his olive green irises with those never-ceasing golden swirls and brown dots as he told me he loved me, his following actions only confirming his declaration.

I could've told him there and then - told him that it was him. That it was him I saw myself being with forever and always - him I wanted to kiss, to hold, to love and adore until the day I could no longer. I could've told him that I was sorry, and that I forgave him for what he'd done, too - that I wanted to leave it in the past, and be with him. But the words couldn't form.

I swallowed nervously, before speaking again, "I lied before," I bit my lip, "I'm with Luke."

Harry looked at me in pure disbelief, "You're lying to me."

"I'm not," I found myself saying so rather calmly, my chest tightening as I continued to lie to him as he knew.

"You're lying through your teeth, Ana," his voice broke for the third time that night, but this time a single tear rolled down the lifeless skin of his cheek, and almost leant forward to kiss it away and admit to him I was, indeed, lying. But I didn't.

"I'm not lying to you, Harry," I closed my eyes for a moment in a slow blink, taking a deep breath as I felt my own tears brim and I blinked them back quickly, "Luke Hemmings and I are together. We have been for a while. You were right. I deserve better."

Harry froze as I said the three words I knew he had always believed were true, despite the fact it was the polar opposite - he'd always thought I was too good for him, and it was that I had to use to drive him away from me once more.

Harry stood up quickly, cutting off any further conversation as he took long strides towards the back door, stepping through it. I heard Tasha's voice say something I couldn't make out, as Harry's footsteps continued, and her voice grew louder, repeating a word I could only distinguish as his name as I heard the front door slam shut, confirming he was gone.

It was then I let myself break down; burying my head in my hands as I finally allowed myself to cry, the tears streaming down my cheeks with no end as I cried. I'd let him go this time - and as much as I wanted to leap to my feet, thunder out of the doorway towards where he would be headed down the street, and take back everything I had said, but it was no use. I had told him I'd moved on to somebody else, using his ultimate insecurity against him and telling him I deserved more than he could give me. I knew that would be a final straw for him, and that he would go this time. It had torn me to say it, but no more than it had torn him to hear it. I hated myself the moment the words had left my lips, but I didn't take them back - at least not to him. I couldn't be with Harry, and I tried my best to stand by that - too much had happened. I knew deep down I was so incredibly in love with him, and that I'd need him until the day I died - but I'd never admit it. What we were both supposed to need, was anything but each other - and I would do my best to have things that way. As much as it would kill me, it would be that way.

And then the storm hit, the thunder echoing loudly throughout the yard as the rain began to pour, and Tasha rushed outside to determine my state after my conversation with Harry. I couldn't bring myself to look up as she hurried to my side, bringing her arms around me as I cried for what felt like hours, until my eyes burned and my throat ached. Luke rubbed my shoulder comfortingly as Tasha held me tighter than ever, muttering things into my ear to calm me down as we all slowly became soaked with the merciless rain - but I refused to move.

It was no use, whatever I did - because he was gone, and he wasn't coming back.