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but what if he did? - a chapter 27 snippet into Harry's head

All he could think about was the way her face looked when she admitted that she was in love with
him. Or had been. Or could’ve been. He was vague on the tense, dead focused on the crack in her
voice and hunching of her shoulders, as she tried to make herself smaller and steel herself against
him.
Harry’d never been so tense in his entire life as he was when she sighed out, “I don’t think I can do
this.” Because this was his option. He’d been badgered about going public for weeks, since just
before the spitting incident and almost continuously after. Management felt like that was the best
option - they tiptoed around saying it, sprouting off shit about it being a “personal choice” but it
was heavily implied that it would be easier if they just outted it. Then they could protect something
and acknowledge that it existed, hope for the best and that the fans would calm down after a few
weeks, if all things went well.
He’d been putting off the conversation for days, because every time he felt ready to broach it, he
would catch a glimpse of her hands, shaking and anxious, when they went out. He would convince
himself that now wasn’t the right time, not when she was still checking the shops for potentially
problematic people when they went in. And so he distracted, and he put it off, and he decided that
going to LA was the best option because it was somewhere different, it was somewhere alone, and
they needed that.
And it was like four days of greatness, of the loneliness that sometimes crept up inside of Harry
completely disappearing. She’d always been the one to make him feel less aimless, less like he was
navigating his way through waves and waves by himself, looking for something to cling on to and
bring support. She was that for him, a type of comfort that wasn’t paid to look after him or forced to
spend time with him, and he was so absolutely terrified of fucking it up that he walked on eggshells
and he ignored everything he didn’t like and he pretended.
He pretended, and he knew it was awful, and so when she broke, crying in front of him, he had
absolutely no fucking idea what to do.
He’d been so petrified of ruining her and then he’d done it anyway.
He was angry, and frustrated, and felt like he was pushed into a corner with no options for escape.
Because if she didn’t want to go public, that was it. Hypothetically, maybe it wasn’t, but
management wouldn’t be pleased, and it was all only going to get worse, and he just wanted to
make it better and stop hiding, for once in his life. Everyone was taking parts of his life, snapping
pictures and reporting his whereabouts, and for once he wanted to give information willingly. He
wanted to be the one who told, who was in control of them knowing, and maybe that was taken
away from him with the pictures, but he could reclaim it. They could reclaim it.
He was so frustrated, and he’d said the first thing that popped into his head, some stupid shit about
convenience and her videos, the same line he’d been fed over the phone last week, when Kate had
dared to bring her videos into all of it, and Harry regretted the words the second they dropped out of
his mouth.
He’d never seen someone look so crushed. And it was his fault.
She cried. Her voice cracked, and she looked absolutely devastated, and then she was angry, and
she cried just a little bit, tears building and falling, and she ran.
And he tried to stop her, his brain going haywire with nothing but pure panic, but she’d flinched
from his touch and that was when it hit him.
He ruined it.
He spent so much time trying to make sure that nothing else would, when really he’d been holding
the destruction inside of him for the entire time.
It was the most harrowing thought he had. And as he stood in the meeting room, chest heaving, lips
dry as his brain tried to figure out what to do next, Harry realized that he was angry.
More angry than he’d maybe ever been. Because this was the first thing that had been solely his in
years and he could pinpoint all of the ways it was slipping away from it.
When they knocked on the door minutes after Ezra left, peeking inside nervously, he’d only shaken
his head, not willing to say anything. He left without a proper goodbye, and it was in bad taste and
bad manners, but he needed to sort out the mess that was going on in his head.
She was in love with him. Or she had been. He wasn’t sure if he’d been the one who made that
switch to past tense.
And she wasn’t okay with any of it, or all of it, and she was done. And she probably hated him.
And there was nothing Harry could do about either of that, not right then, but there was something
he could do about Nick, because when she’d dropped that tidbit of information in the conversation,
he was confused.
He texted Nick to ask if he was home or out, and when the answer was home, he got into his car and
sped the entirety to Primrose Hill, not bothering with the radio, letting his anger and fear and
frustration sit and stew in silence.
When Harry unlocked the door and made his way into the house, Nick was standing in the kitchen,
looking anxious and guilty but trying to hide it.
“So you know then?” Harry asked, and it almost sound like he was barking out words, his voice
was so defensive, and Nick flinched.
“Meeting with management didn’t go well, I take it?” Nick assumed, bracing his hands on the
counter as Harry looked at him with narrowed, accusatory eyes.
Harry cut through the bullshit. “What did you say to her?”
This time Nick actually winced, before bringing his hand up to swipe it along his face tiredly. “You
have to understand circumstances—”
Harry shook his head. “What did you do?”
“She just overheard some shit she shouldn’t have.” Nick replied quickly, flustered.
“When? Where? What? Why?”
“After that time we went out. It was in the morning. Hadley said something snide at the club, and
Colette brought it up, and Pixie and Alexa just raised a few fair, questioning points.” Nick’s voice
was calm as he laid all of the information out on the table, trying to keep his voice level as he
watched Harry warily.
“Fair points?” Harry’s voice echoed. “What’s a fair point?”
“She’s getting so much out of this, Harry.” Nick tried to keep his voice neutral, calm, hoping that
with enough gentle prodding and reassurance they could both make it through this without any
substantial damage to their friendship. They bickered, and they teased, but they didn’t fight, not
really, even never about something as significant as Ezra was to Harry. “We want to look out for
you.”
“You thought she was using me.” The realization hit Harry square in the chest, another pang that
hurt almost as much as the conversation earlier, because he’d said the same things, stupidly brought
up the same questions.
And she’d been carrying that around with her for weeks, letting it fester, and his friends had given
her shit and she’d stuck it out anyway. His friends had given her flack, the rest of the world had
given her flack, and she’d stuck it out anyway.
Nick made a noncommittal move with his head. “There were just questions. She was never meant to
hear. I don’t think that - it’s just, you know, how stuff is. It’s better to be safe.”
Backtracking in his head, Harry tried to figure out the scheduling of it all. “That was the same day
as the spitting incident.”
Nick’s eyes closed, nodding mournfully, before he opened them again. “I felt - I feel - like shit over
it. I know that it’s not easy, and she’s put up with a lot.”
“She didn’t tell me.” Harry inhaled sharply, the sinking feeling only growing in his gut. She didn’t
tell him. She didn’t tell him about any of it. “She had to deal with that - and then on the Tube - and I
freaked out on her and she had to deal with that. And a secret? What the fuck, Nick?”
“You had a lot to deal with!” Nick defended. “Management was calling you left and right, bugging
you to go public, and you freaked out. I didn’t want to add to that.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Harry shook his head. “You fucked up and you didn’t want me to
know. She’s my girlfriend. And I get the protective thing, but you had no right to question anything
about it. I know that everyone thinks that I have no idea what I’m doing, but I can take care of
myself. I’m so sick of people acting like I have no idea what I’m doing with my life. She had
enough going on, she didn’t need your shit added to it. I thought you were friends. You told me you
liked her.”
“I do like her!” Nick insisted. “But I like you too. You’re my best mate, Harry.”
Harry wasn’t accepting that excuse, the anger inside of him only sparking with his irritation towards
Nick. “Best mates don’t keep secrets like that from each other. And if you were really looking out
for me, you should’ve come and talked to me first, instead of say it all behind my back. Especially
when we were in the same house.”
“I fucked up.” Nick acknowledged, and it calmed something inside of Harry’s chest, but not
completely. The feelings of betrayal and realization were still there. Because if he’d known - if he’d
ever had the conversation with Ezra - he wouldn’t have had the thoughtlessness to say—
“I’m sorry.” Nick apologized, emphasizing the words, wanting Harry to feel the sincerity. “And
I’ve apologized to Ezra and I’m sure she doesn’t believe me, but I am. You can tell her that. How -
how is she handling all of this?” Nick seemed wary to ask at all.
And Harry opened his mouth to reply, but then he stopped short of answering, because he wasn’t
sure of the answer.
He wasn’t sure how Ezra was handling all of this, because he hadn’t asked. Never in the
conversation, in the entirety of the pictures being released, had he asked how she was doing. He’d
been so frustrated over the entire situation, persistent to fix it all so they could move on and Harry
would feel less like things were dangling from cliffs and ready to teter off, that he hadn’t asked.
And he hadn’t asked, and that was enough to push them off whatever strange balance they were
holding and send them spiraling down.
It was all making Harry sick and desperate and panicked again.
“Not - not well.” He finally stammered out, putting it all in the simplest of terms.
“It’s a lot.” Nick nodded sympathetically, and he kept talking, because he would sense that Harry
was in his head, and the farther away they got from the argument and the anger, maybe the better
things would be. “I’m not even dating you and I get death threats. The shit she’s gotta go through
every day? I don’t know if I could do it. Especially now that you guys are going public. But if
anyone can handle the world, it’s probably Ezra.”
“Yeah.” Harry agreed numbly, each thought hitting him quicker and quicker. “Yeah, it is. I’m going
to go.”
He was turning for the door without saying anything else.
“Are we okay, Harry?” Nick stopped him before he could leave. “I’m sorry. You have to know
that.”
“I do.” Harry nodded. “You - and Pixie, and Alexa, and Hadley - you messed up. But fuck, I - I
have to go.”
They never talked about anything. He never pushed. He never prodded. He tried to be reassuring -
he could remember drunken conversations under Nick’s kitchen table, revealing how scared he was
about all of it, how much he cared, and he could remember telling her that he was trying, that he
was going to do everything he could to make it alright, but how good had he kept on his promise?
Because he’d been so focused on trying to keep her with him, trying to keep this together so he
would feel less aimless, that he didn’t think about anything else.
He needed to talk to her. His hands shook as he unlocked his car door and dug his phone out of his
coat pocket, clicking her contact under his Favorites and calling. It went straight to voicemail.
Again and again, he called five times consecutively, all of them going to voicemail, before he
texted.
And he knew where she was or where she was going to be. There was a magazine release party he
could show up to, a key to her flat that was was sitting right next to the key to his own on his
keyring, but he’d already put her through so much shit, he didn’t want to add any more.
He needed this all to be voluntary, not to pressure her into anything else just so he could get what he
wanted.
He’d been so caught up in trying to protect them from everything else, from the rest of the world, to
keep her safe from them, that he forgot he was the one with the most power to destroy her. And
he’d tried so hard not to, but he wondered if he’d ruined her anyway.