It's in our nature to not realize we should've appreciated something, until it's gone. I'm not necessarily talking about something deep and meaningful- but it's almost noon, there are fresh drools on my pillow and I miss the feeling of not having my brain pulsate with every beat my heart made. Thank god it's the weekend.

         I don't know how much time passes between me gaining consciousness and me getting out of bed- probably about 10 to 20 minutes. After that I'm left contemplating whether it was the right decision, as I stumble to the door of the bedroom, feeling my brain even more when I'm in a standing position. To add to all of that, memories of last night keep flooding in, even though I hoped I'd drunk enough to make them stay away, making me feel even sicker to my stomach.

         I keep furrowing my brows and squinting my eyes as I enter the living room, the sun rays killing me just by being in the room. Speaking of things inside the room, I already knew she'd be there, lying on the couch, looking perfectly composed, a mug in one of her hands and a novella in her other.

         "Hey," I speak up in a small, broken voice, blinking in her direction. I have no idea how I look, but I also don't think a sore sight would begin to describe me.

         "Morning," she offers me a small smile, actually looking at me, "How're you feeling?"

         "Like I was hung by my balls all night."

         "Would explain why you're hungover now."

         "Del..." I sigh as she stands up, walking past me as she heads to the counter. I knew she'd be mad at me, and the feeling probably won't leave her for a few days- maybe even weeks. Nothing I can't cope with, though, I'll survive.

         "I made you coffee," She says from the other side of the room, her voice continuously flat and emotionless, "it's probably gone cold by now."

         "That's not a problem."

         "I know." I sit on the sofa, groaning at the soreness of my entire goddamn body, and face her - she's approaching me, holding a different mug in her hands, presumably my coffee. "You'd be mad to try and complain or something right now. How's your coffee?"

         "It's the best coffee I've had in my life."

         "Exactly." She carefully sits on the coffee table across from me, crossing her legs, pulling her pink shorts down her thigh, "How sick are you from one to ten?"

         "Um... about a four, but I've got a headache."

         "I'll give you an aspirin, don't worry."

         "Thank you."

         "Why'd you do it?"

         First I blink, then throw my head back, sighing once again- I have to admit, I'm already feeling better from the coffee. Maybe it's a placebo effect, though I don't really care what it is. "It's too early-"

         "I need to catch you off guard so you don't come up with a lie later on."

         "...What?"

         Delaney gets off the table, and kneels in front of me- I used to be so happy when she did this. "I know you," she says, holding my cold hands, "I know you wouldn't lose control over drinking if you didn't have a reason for it."

         "What if I didn't actually have a reason for it?" I shrug, already knowing this charade is going to hell. She's not an idiot. "What if I just had a slip up? I've had lots of those, you know it yourself."

         She gives me a smile after a few seconds, small at first, but then widens it as she places a hand on my thigh. "Like I said," she licks her lips, "you never did it unless you had a reason for it."

         "...Can I at least finish my coffee first?"

         She presses her lips together, forming a straight line. "Sure," she smiles, through her annoyance and curiosity, and stands up. "I'm... gonna go do some laundry."

         Watching her leave the room, definitely took its toll on my half-assed brain. Yeah, we live together, we've been together for a year, but- I somehow feel further from her than I've been other times after fucking up. This is something else.

         Exactly. This is something else. This is not simply a fuck-up. I didn't actually fuck up anything, other than having one too many drinks last night, but I've learned not to be afraid of minor slip-ups.

         This is me lying. Lying to the one person that's 100% been there for me for as long as she's known me. Niall's right, I can't go much longer without telling her about Conrad. I certainly can try, though it would do nothing but tear me apart.

         Come to think of it, it'll also tear up my relationship with Delaney. It's already tearing up my relationship with her. I don't think I even have the time to grow a pair - I just have to spit it out. Yeah, like ripping off a bandaid. That'll do it.

         I down the rest of my cold coffee - that deadass tastes good, leave the mug on the table in front of me, and finally get up. I'm still sleepy, but deciding to come clean is definitely making me more aware of myself than I've been recently.

         "Delaney?" I call, leaning on the wall next to the bedroom door, feeling too awkward to even go in and face her.

         "I'm gathering clothes, what's up?"

         I take one deep breath, looking at my hands, "You know when... we talked about... Seth, and how he manages with women, you know, having... a kid and all?"

         "...Yeah? What does that have to do with anything?"

         "Well... I didn't... start that topic for no reason." I gulp, praying she wouldn't come out of the room anytime soon. "I, um... I would've talked about Niall and him having a kid, but he's already married, so he doesn't count."

         "Harry, what are you trying to tell me?"

         Yeah, I'm not understanding myself right now either. "I'm saying, Seth... must have it hard, 'cause he likes changing girlfriends... frequently," I frown at the word as I say it, "and that just makes the number of women whom he has to tell that he has a child with an ex, bigger. And you know what, Del?"

         "Hm?"

         "I don't wanna be like Seth," I shake my head to myself, hearing her breathe out a laugh in the other room. "I don't want to have those kinds of troubles. Not when I have you, and I want you, and I can't imagine myself with anyone else."

         Lying again?

         I squeeze my eyes shut for a second or two at my own thought, trying to shake it off and concentrate on Delaney. "I guess what I'm saying, Del, is-"

         "Harry?"

         "...Yeah?"

         "Is... is this it?"

         I furrow my brows for a millisecond at her sudden interruption, and finally unglue myself from the wall to walk to the doorway. Delaney is standing on the opposite side of the room, her back turned to me, though I can see my travelling bag in front of-

         Oh my god. Oh no.

        Oh.

        No.

        I gulp as she starts turning around, holding the small square box that I'd hidden in the bag a couple nights ago, in her hands. No, I was not intending to do anything of that sort anytime soon. I just wanted to see how it'd feel.

         Right now, it feels like someone is choking me.

         "Is... is this the reason for... all the philosophy and-and bullshit in general?" She lets out a breathy laugh toward the end of her question, walking toward me in the process, looking me in the eye. I probably look paler than a dead man.

         "Um..." I gulp again, looking down at the shiny, silver content of the maroon box in her hands; what to do, what to do? "I- yeah, but-"

         "Then let me make it easier for you," she cuts me off again, looking down at the Harry Winston ring in her hands. For fuck's sake, the only reason I bought it at all was because it had my name in it.

         "Yes."

         It takes me a second to process what she's just said- processing the whole situation will take a bit longer.

         "Y-yes?" I blink a couple times at her, and her eager nods confirm what I could not have expected to happen in the near future. I just got engaged.

         Before I could try to act less flabbergasted, her arms are around my neck, her legs around my waist, and she's squeaking happily. I hug her back, tightly, to make it look believable, but I've got the same blank, shocked expression on my face. Those two words explain the state of my brain as well, when I think about it.

         "I thought it was funny how you insisted on talking about family life, but this! I couldn't have expected this," she continues kissing the side of my head, and- now it's a little clearer. She thought I was talking about Seth because I wanted to start a family of my own, not confessing that I already have one. Kind of, in a way.

         "I... yeah." I hug her tighter and sigh, feeling a larger rock on my chest but at the same time, a little relieved too. If she loves me enough to agree to marry me, she wouldn't leave me for not telling her I have a son right away, right?

         I've never sounded like such an idiot to my own self.

*

I CANNOT BELIEVE I WROTE SOMETHING AFTER A 6 MONTH DRAUGHT WHATS UP

vote or comment or just tell me about your day in the comments ilY xxxx