It’s been exactly a month since you and Harry split.

You’re sitting on the cold tile of your bathroom floor, the alarm clock on your nightstand reading 3:00 am, as the t-shirt he left behind engulfs you in his scent. You can practically feel his arms around you, the way he’d hold you when you got in your head. Almost as if he never left. You never imagined it’d get to this point. Never fathomed the fact that one day Harry wouldn’t be yours anymore, that he’d belong to someone else. And as much as you hated it, you had no choice but to keep your head up and pretend it didn't affect you. Knowing damn well that it did.

You’ve tried getting over him, you really have. If he’s moved on why can’t you? Your friends set you up on dates with guys whose names you won't remember in a week, trying to make up for the fact that Harry’s will forever be on your lips. You didn’t see the signs, if there were any anyway. But you could feel it, even if you didn’t see it. The way he’d gradually sleep farther away from you in the bed you shared, how he no longer subconsciously rested his hand on your thigh when he was driving. Until eventually he left.

You missed all the small things Harry did when he was with you. The way he shook your dad’s hand the first time they met, firm, but not in an overwhelming way. The way he’d immediately become the life of the party anytime you two went out, how everybody’s eyes couldn’t help but gravitate towards him. The way he’d beg you to go and dance with him when he knew you wouldn’t want to. Yet you did anyway. Harry Styles was contagious. The way he’d walk with his hands in his pockets instead of in yours when he was overwhelmed, or how he’d kiss you to stop you from rambling. It might've seemed rude to the untrained eye, but to you, it was his way of calming you down. You’ve never missed being cut off so badly.

So you continue to sit there, alone on the bathroom floor, scrolling through your phone. The endless articles and headlines of your ex boyfriend with his new girl. The paparazzi pictures of them hand in hand look too natural to be staged, you would know. You pretend to stay in touch with Niall and the other lads because you genuinely want to. Not that you don’t, it’s just not the whole truth. You’ll never admit to yourself that the real reason why you do, is to ask them how Harry is. You no longer got to watch him sleep, instead watching his life pass right by you in grainy photos on your screen, you’ll feel him slowly forget you and what you were the way you used to feel him breathe next to you. If that’s the only way you’ll get to keep him, then so be it.

You pray to yourself every day and night, on every wish, every 11:11, that maybe he’d change his mind. Maybe he’d come back to you. But he won’t. Or so you thought, until you see his familiar contact photo illuminate your screen. You swear your heart stops for a solid minute before you finally press the green answer button. “Hello?” You hear from the other end of the line, and your heart sinks all the way down to your stomach.

It's Harry.