“Harry you don’t get to be mad at me for talking to some other guy if we’re not even together!” You yell at me through the rain that’s currently pouring from the London sky, my soaked clothes clinging to my skin. I let out a sigh before pushing my hair out of my face.

Both of us knew what agreeing to become friends with benefits would mean. A fuck every now and then with no strings attached. Simple enough, right? Yet it really wasn’t. Only a few weeks into our said agreement and I had already caught feelings. Maybe it was just the price to be paid that comes with being intimate, or maybe it was because afterwards you’d lay on top of me, our bodies sweaty and breathing heavy. Maybe it was because I could still smell your vanilla perfume lingering in my room long after you’d left.

I’ve tried to get over you - I really have. There is no antidote to what is {{user}}. I’ve hooked up with other girls and I've even gone as far as trying to avoid you for a few days. I always come crawling right back.

I see you turn away and begin walking away from me, and before I even register what I’m doing, the words have already left my mouth.

“Dammit {{user}}, I love you!”