Two months.

How can a number be so small, yet feel like it's light years away? Time has always been a fickle thing, especially for me. Not a lot of things have been fair in my life but I guess that's the whole point. Unpredictability is a huge part of being alive and lessons are learned by the cosmos corrupt way of telling you better things are coming. Speak it into existence but don't be impatient is a rule I never quite seemed to follow or wanted to.

Somehow, it seemed like my life replayed itself in a loop. Meet someone, fall in love even though you know you probably shouldn't, let yourself be enamored by this incredible idea of a man, self sabotage, grieve and do it all over again. The one thing about me is I never learn my lesson. But I at least have the power to see that I am not the only one who goes through shit like this.

How self indulged and narcissistic would I be to think that, anyway?

I'm not saying no to ever falling for someone ever again, love is a beautiful thing (when in the right headspace and not under the influence) but the next time I fall in love, I have to be okay with letting others come between me and my work. That's another flaw of mine, I'm way too independent. I never thought my independence would be an issue for men, but that's the thing. I spent so much time worrying about it being an issue for them that I should've been worrying about it being an issue for me.

Independence is my worst detriment and my ego's greatest ally.

I will not self medicate with long hours in the office. I will not self medicate with long hours in the office. I will not self medicate with long hours in the office. I will not—

"For the love of God, Beau." I look up to see my sister's look of disapproval. "I will never understand how you can read in the car without feeling motion sickness, just looking at you makes me ill."

"Between your driving and your horrible horrible music taste, I don't think my reading's the issue here." I bite back with a smirk.

Cami rolls her eyes. "What are you reading anyways?"

"My entries."

"Right. That therapist really has you evaluating yourself, huh? Did you already get to the part where you have major emotional detachment issues?" She jokes and I feign a fake laugh.

"The many joys of being me, I suppose." We come to a stop and I realize we're here. I look up at the building and sigh.

"Want me to go in with you?" Cami suggests and I shake my head.

"No, I wouldn't want you to miss your flight." I say with a small smile. We both reach across the glove compartment and hug tight. After a while of this, I get out of the car and head for the elevator in the parking lot. For two months, I've been completely dreading this. It's been so long, I only hope the key still works.

I allowed myself these two months to recuperate after London, maybe I overdid it but I feel like I am in a much better state than I was then. The hallway was silent when I reached the floor and I took that as a good sign. I was relieved when I reached my hand inside the light outside the door and found the key still there.

Everything was the same as it was, furniture in its usual spot, blinds were closed and the same scent of teakwood lingered the air. I set down the key and my bag, remove my coat and head for the bedroom. An undisturbed bed mocks me, I've been on my feet for the past week, helping Cami pack and unpack the remaining of her things from my parents home.

Needless to say, I was exhausted and work hasn't been making it any easier. I go into the closet and find my stuff still there, undisturbed as well. A drawer full of my undergarments, and a dresser littered with my everyday products. Another drawer full of ties, most were the same shade of dark blue to grey's. I gently run my fingers through them, getting caught in the moment.

I spent majority of my time reminiscing and packing, finding a few things that bring too many memories but ultimately I keep going. This was the hardest part about dating, packing your things from a place that once felt like home to you. Only, it wasn't necessarily the place rather than the person that felt like home. I don't know why but I really thought this would be it, I mean why else would we keep finding our way back to each other?

Maybe we were holding onto something that wasn't going to let us continue into the next chapter of our story, and sadly our stories were completely different. I think we were only put in each other's life to get each other out of whatever hole we dug ourselves in. We needed the helping hand to get us out of our detriment without going completely insane.

Ultimately, I couldn't blame Harry for anything that happened. We both tried our best to keep the other and now I understand why that one rule of his was most important, this fucking sucks.

I go into the bathroom once I'm done packing, my bare feet hit the cold bathroom tile and my eyes lie on the tub. Too many memories in the entirety of this apartment. I kneel down in front of the tub and turn on the faucet, watching as the water quickly rises.

I felt Harry's chest rise up and down behind me as I lathered my legs with the bubbles. When I turn my head, he is already looking at me, his arms on either side of the tub. "Tell me something." I say, finally breaking the silence.

Harry cocks his head to the side slightly. "Like
what?"

"Something nobody else knows." I say and he rubs the tip of his nose. "Something you have never told anyone before in your life."

Harry seems to think about this, looking around
the bathroom as to think what it is he wants to say. He chuckles and shakes his head, a smile on his lips and his dimples indented on his cheeks. "Turn around." He instructs and I furrow my eyebrows in question. "Just do it."

"Okay..." I trail off, confused on why it is he wants me to turn around but I do so anyways. I feel him shift closer to me, his arms wrap around mine and he grabs my hands, wrapping his fingers with mine while he presses his forehead to my back. He doesn't say anything yet but this was very intimate. I'm about to call him again when he speaks.

"I'm in love with you."

I smile at the memory, feeling my eyes burn with the hot tears in my eyes. Our love confession was in the premises of this place. My body relaxes as the water wraps around my body, burning my skin but at the same time, I love the feeling.

"Can you turn around?" I ask, using his same words. Harry eyes me suspiciously but does it anyway. I bring the lipstick up to his bare back and in light motions, I write what I felt.

'I love you'

I don't think I ever loved anyone as much as I did Harry. It was never like this with William or anyone else before him, certainly not with Luke. Sitting in this tub, I realize I have never felt so alone. So drained. And once again, after two months I allowed myself to cry as the memories of us come crashing in, like a kaleidoscope. Over and over and over again.

I lean against the tub, pressing my cheek on the rim as I reach for my phone on the floor. Harry and I didn't really take all that many pictures together, in fact he hated photographs. But that still didn't stop me from taking some of his. There was one I took, he drove and held my hand as he looked away. He would get annoyed whenever I took pictures but I didn't care.

This time it felt different, it didn't feel like any other of our breakups. This time, it felt real. Like this was really it for us, we were in two completely different parts of the world after all, how much confirmation do I need?

I sniff back the tears, my nose feels stuffy as I put the letter back in the envelope and adjust my bag on my shoulder. Harry walks slowly towards me, his lips were bright red and so was his nose. I stood there, determining wether I should stay or walk away. What I wasn't going to do, however was cry in his arms and beg him not to go through with this, it was clear he had made up his mind.

"I got your letter." I state, holding it in front of me to show him. Harry looks from me to the envelope in my hands and then back to me, remorse in his eyes. He's about to speak but I beat him to it. "Please don't tell me that you're sorry, I won't be able to handle it."

"I can't keep hurting you, Beau." Harry begins, walking towards the chairs. I hesitate but sit on the one next to him when Harry motions for me to sit down. My hands in between my thighs for warmth, my bags clutter at my feet. "I don't know how many times we have to break up for me to change and quite frankly, I wouldn't want to put you through that every single time to find out. It isn't fair to you."

"Why do we have to break up every single time?" I ask, turning to him as I fought back tears hard. "Why can't we work it out?"

Harry breathes out in a somber tone, his fingers toy and twist his rings. "When you're gone I want nothing more than to have you near, close enough to where I can touch you. But when I have you, I can't help but wonder if I'm doing the right thing with keeping you. Most of the times, I have no idea of what I want. Do I want you or do I just want you near? Am I able to live without you?"

"And what's the answer to that?" I ask, I take my bottom lip between my teeth and bite down to prevent myself from letting out my emotions. Harry looks away from me and down to his hands, his posture on his chair was much hunched and less put together like he usually is.

"I don't know the answer to that." Harry sighs. "I wish I didn't have to, but if I'm wishing for stuff I guess I wish it were different. I wish I could marry you, I wish you could be enough for me to the point where I don't feel suffocated by my own convictions."

I can't help but feel like all of this is my fault. Harry was just looking for something casual, our relationship was contractual and looking at how things have played out, they should've ended at the deadline.

But then, I realize that no one is actually at fault here. Not Harry and certainly not me. This is just a common occurrence in our daily lives, everyday we struggle with the ability to stay away from each other but we fail at that every time. I ruin relationships and he abuses narcotics, we both have our faults and maybe this is a deadly combination in every way.

Maybe we were never meant to be together, maybe the stars were never really aligned. Maybe this is just a path we had to walk through to reach eternal bliss, but for the mean time it was eternal damnation.

"Somehow, we always end like this." I say.

"And yet we never learn." Harry says under his breath.

The water around me was now tepid and I am forced out of the bath, only to continue my sulking on the bed. As my hand goes under the pillow for comfort, I felt something—a journal. I furrow my eyebrows as I sit up and look it over. It was a brown leather cover, the pages inside seemed ragged there was endless amounts of writing in each page, front and back. Some were entries, others unfinished poetry, others were passages from books, quotes he's read. But one particular one seemed to catch my attention.

Silly demands. The want. The long for moments as pure as these. Soft cheeks. Hands that are twice as soft. The constant battle against self destruction. Flaws you can no longer endure. Long drives at night to rid your head of the obligations of life. The mistaken passion for aggression. Willing to love without condition. Asking for no more than the same in return, driving them away instead. She's everything. Everything I ever wanted. Every one of my silly demands, demanded for her. Killing me softly with her own constant belittling, knowing all too well she's everything. Everything but crazy.

My fingers traced the words I couldn't comprehend, he was so intellectually emotional in his poetry. Maybe it was only for him to understand and no one else, one of the many things I love about him and one of the many mysteries I will miss.

I awake when I hear noise on the other side of the bedroom door to which I quickly get dressed. I look to the clock on the bedside table.

12:36 AM.

I slowly make my way towards the bedroom door, twisting the doorknob open to see a shadow in the kitchen. I furrow my eyebrows at who this could be, Harry was in London. However, my thoughts are answered when none other than Elija walks out of the kitchen holding a plate he's using as an ashtray.

He seems just as surprised to see me here as I do to him. "Fuck," he breathes out. "You scared the shit out of me." And then he walks towards the couch as if nothing happened, as if I wasn't just standing there. "Haven't seen you around in a while."

I sigh and walk towards the opposite couch as him and sit, watching as he sets down the plate with his cigarette. He was rolling up some weed and I watched him. "Yeah well," I say, unsure of what to actually say to Elija.

"Harry's in London in case you were wondering." He focuses on licking the paper closed.

I nod my head. "I know." I say. "I left him there."

At this, he looks up. "Are you picking up some of his stuff?"

"More like, I'm picking up the rest of my things."

"So I see he got you to move out with him?"

"No." I shake my head. "We broke up."

Elija seems to find this amusing as he stifles a laugh. "The amount of times I heard that one." He taunts. "Pretty sure this is a common routine in your relationship."

"We're not getting married and we broke up for good." I don't know why I was confessing all of this to Elija, out of all people. But I guess I just needed someone to talk to. I was that desperate.

Elija looks up at me again. "Hate to say I told you so, but I really did. I can act surprised though if that's what you want."

I shake my head and let out a small rueful laugh. "No, that's okay." Clearly I was only getting nothing but taunts out of him, I expected nothing more. I get up from the couch and go inside the room to gather up my bags and bring them to the door.

As I'm getting ready to leave, Elija speaks up one last time. "Beau?" I look to him on the couch, lighting the joint and kicking back. "You're a good person, at least I liked you better than all the others before."

"What an honor." I remark.

"We're Styles men. And the sad fact of it all is that we can't ever change, no matter how bad people want us to." I look down. "Take my mother for example. She endured years of abuse from my father in hopes that one day he'd change. I can't seem to leave my vices and Harry can't either. That's our whole m.o. Those who do not move, do not notice their chains."

I know I'm at my lowest when I understand exactly what Elija means. They are creatures of habit, Harry unfortunately has his chains wrapped so strongly around his body that he is blinded by anything out of place.

The pain on the inside of my cheek from biting down on it makes me turn to look at Elija once more. He definitely wasn't the person I expected to see last or say goodbye to.

"Please take care of yourself, Elija." I say and mean it. He waves at me as he blows the smoke from his lips and with that, I am gone.