Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

It's one month after the break up when you've changed your number and deactivated your social media, successful in your attempts of blocking Harry out of your life after his never ending strives to contact you on every platform, smothering you with confessions of love and hopeless apologies.

It's two months after the breakup when you're bringing home a one night stand to try and combat your loneliness, resulting in you faking an orgasm and secretly wishing it was Harry's body moving in sync against yours instead, feeling the type of dirty that you can't wash off in the shower when it's over.

It's three months after the breakup when Anne's desperately getting your new number from a mutual friend and calling you begging for help, saying that Harry hasn't left the house since the end of your relationship and she's worried about his health.

It's four months after the break up when your curiosity is eating you alive and you've finally mustered up enough courage, knocking on Harry's door and swaying back and forth on your heels as you nervously bite the inside of your cheek.

You know Harry's home, and the Range Rover parked in the driveway is a dead giveaway, but the other end of the door remains silent as you wait patiently.

You were the one who initiated the breakup roughly four months ago, ending your three year relationship. While Harry was everything you could ever want in a person, your relationship was too overwhelmingly intense for you. Harry could bring out the best in you, but he could also bring out the worst, and feeling that vulnerable in the hands of someone else was too much for you to handle.

After waiting long enough at the door to rethink your entire decision of coming here at all, you're reluctantly calling out "Harry?" and hoping the silence continues so you can leave and never look back.

You can already feel your heart thumping erratically in your chest as memories you've made in this house resurface; coming back to his place for the first time after your third date, barely making it through the doorway in one piece before he's leaning you against the kitchen counter and fucking you into oblivion.

Sitting on his porch swing during a thunderstorm, watching the rain downpour and lightening illuminate the sky as Harry confesses that he loves you for the first time. The broken look in his eyes after you told him you couldn't do this anymore and he watched you drive away for the last time.

Harry's house always felt like your home, but now you stand here timidly on the tattered doormat, feeling like more of an unwanted trespasser than a cherished old guest, hating how unsure you are of yourself.

Suddenly you hear the lock switch before the front door is slowly creaking open, and no amount of time you've spent practicing everything you were going to say to Harry before you arrived in the car ride over could have possibly prepared you for the heartbreaking sight in front of you.

Harry's red, puffy eyes bore into yours, fresh trails of tears staining down his cheeks as his eyes glaze over, more threatening to spill.

The special glint his gaze once held has long faded, emerald green now a bloodshot, hollowed out grey, deep purple bags under his eyes making you question if he's slept in weeks. There's a deep crease in his forehead, eyebrows permanently drawn downwards as his bottom lip pouts outward and quivers frequently. Uneven stubble is scattered across his chin and jaw and upper lip, multiple tiny cuts on his face where he's slipped while shaving.

He's wearing nothing but briefs and a single sock on one foot, displaying his pale complexion and the way his ribcage now protrudes outward as his stomach caves inward. He's lost an alarming amount of weight and looks severely unhealthy, and you can't ignore the pang of guilt that hits you seeing him like this.

You knew he hadn't taken the breakup well, but this is worse than you ever imagined. Much, much worse.

You wouldn't have ignore all his attempts to reach out to you if you knew he was struggling this much.

He looks at you with wide eyes, lips parted in shock, his body frozen in place. He's spent countless nights fantasizing about you showing up at his doorstep, telling him you've made the biggest mistake and don't want to be without him. In his dreams you've made up a thousand times. Your calming words soothed his ears and destroyed his tormenting thoughts. Cured his broke heart with promises of forever. You've kissed him tenderly until your lips are sore and your lungs are burning from lack of air. Lied with him for hours, stitching him back together with your gentle touch. In his dreams you've come back home, back to him.

But now that you're actually here he realizes you're not the girl from his twisted fantasies, and doesn't know how to proceed into this unknown territory.

All he's wanted, all he'd needed for months is staring him right back in the face and he can't comprehend and single second of it.

You carefully walk closer to him, wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your cheek against his bare chest as you pull him in for a hug. Nostalgia hits you like a brick, his hugs used to be strong and warm and reassuring, but you notice the unfamiliar way his frail arms wrap around you loosely as his body quivers in your grasp.

This is not the Harry you left behind.

He sniffles quietly and hides his face in your hair, a loud sob accidentally leaving his lips. You keep your arms around him but pull away just enough to see his distraught face, "hey...talk to me," you try to coo gently.

His complexion transforms into a light shade of red and the vein in his neck bulges out as he tries to hold back another sob that's threatening to rack through his body, biting his bottom lip so harshly that it draws blood.

You smooth your hands over his back gently in attempts to comfort him, "Shh, it's gonna be okay."

His shoulders hunch and his head hangs low as he moves slightly, keeping his hand on the small of your back as he moves you inside. A small gasp falls from your lips when you take in the condition of his home.

The furniture looks like it was thrown across the room, lying upside down and out of place. Rugs are bunched up in corners, looking like he stumbled over them in a fit of rage and never got around to fixing them. Ripped throw pillows lie on the ground, feathers leaking out. Shattered porcelain is scattered across the floor, and there's broken glass crunching under the soles of your shoes. All the lights are off and the curtains are pulled closed, lamps unplugged and light bulbs smashed. The only spot that appears untouched is the dinning table, a picture of you in a perfect glass frame and a candle flickering in front of it lying on the tabletop.

Harry remains unphased, wiping his wet eyes with the backs of his hands and carelessly taking steps, just barely missing the shards of glass that threaten to cut his feet.

You're wondering what possessed to destroy his home like this. You don't know is every single thing in this house reminds him of you, too, and it's absolute torture. It feels like a knife is being plunged through your chest as you take everything in, and you're finally realizing the true urgency and severity, understanding why Anne had called you last month and hating that you hadn't come sooner. And then it's as though your heart is being ripped out of you by an unknown force at the awareness that you're the one who caused this. Harry needed you and you left when things got difficult.

The first word Harry finally mutters to you is "Bed," his voice rumbling like delicate cotton dragged over harsh pavement.

You can't tell if it's a question or demand, either way reluctantly following him down the hallway if it means trying to help him.

The soft sheets of his bed are warm and welcoming when you lay down, head resting comfortably against the feathery pillows as you sink into the mattress. You take in a breath, remembering the countless nights you've shared together in this very spot, bodies and souls intertwined. Without hesitation, Harry's crawling on top of you, wedging his body between your legs and snuggling his head into your neck the way he always used to.

He doesn't know if it's okay to do this but he needs this and he needs you so he's doing it anyway.

Your hands find his hair and you run your fingers through it, pushing stray strands out of his face. His hair has grown significantly longer, loose curls stopping just above his shoulders. The warmth from his bare skin radiates onto you, enveloping you like a security blanket.

Harry moans into you ear lowly, overwhelmed by how good it feels to be close to you again like this after such a long withdrawal. The sound makes your core clench, memories fogging your mind from all the other times you've heard him make that sound in your ear.

Throughout all these sleepless nights this is all Harry has ached for; to feel your bodies mold perfectly together again. Without you his bed feels empty and oversized, sheets cold and unwelcoming. Every second of your presence is slowly welding this broken man that lies in front of you back together.

You wait until Harry's breathing steadies, the tremble of his hands dissipates, and his sniffling ceases to speak up again.

His head is buried in your chest, arms tightly woven around your frame. Harry thinks that if he holds you a little tighter that maybe you won't leave this time.

"Why haven't you been taking care of yourself?"

You ask softly, twirling one of his lose curls around your finger, then releasing it and watching in awe as it bounces back into a tiny ringlet.

His voice cracks and wavers and he refuses to look you in the eyes, "A life without you isn't one worth living."

You're widening your eyes, soaking in his confession. You shake your head, refusing the possibilities of what he's insinuating. "No, no. Baby, don't say that."

He doesn't miss the way you accidentally slip and call him baby, turning his head slightly and leaving a kiss on the exposed skin right above where your v-neck ends to see how you react.

"M'never gonna move on, can't."

He begins a trail of kisses upwards, lips feathering over your collarbones. You know you should stop him, but you can't control the way your eyes flutter closed at the sensation as he continues his gentle assault.

"Never gonna stop loving you."

Now his lips are at the base of your throat, lingering for a moment before his nose trails a path up your jawline.

"Always gonna be you."

His warm hands slip under the hem of your shirt, thumbs tracing circles into your hips. His lips ghost over your ear, almost teasingly. You're suddenly very aware of your close proximity and the way his familiar musky scent floods your senses.

"Let me show you how much you mean to me?"

He's pushing boundaries that shouldn't be crossed and you try to say his name sternly as a warning but it comes out as more of a moan when he kisses your sweet spot.

He's baiting you like a fish and he knows it's working. He wasn't sure if the spark was still there for you but he knows your body like the back of your hand, and now he knows you're feeling the same magnetic pull that he is. He wants you to remember how good he can make you feel, how good he is at pleasing you. Your heart thumps wildly and your stomach does backflips, goosebumps rising on your skin at his gentle touch.

You clear your throat, trying again, "Harry...I don't think that's a good idea."

He notices the way your voice falters and places a few more convincing kisses to your neck, a shiver running down your spine. "If you tell me to stop," his eyes search yours intently, "then I'll stop."

It's been a long four months and your body's aching for his touch, needy for his warm hands and soft lips. He stops to give you time to object, and when you silently return his gaze your rational side is screaming objections at you, but Harry's taking it as a silent confirmation that you want this as much as he does.

He gets up and kneels at the edge of the bed, tugging you by your ankles to meet him until he's positioned between your legs. His hands rub soothingly up your smooth legs as his lips place slow kisses to your hipbones, carefully pulling off your shorts.

He recognizes the pink underwear he bought you last Christmas, a slight smirk playing on his lips at the way he makes you squirm so easily when he blows a hot puff of air over your clothed center. "Miss me?" He whispers into your skin, starting at your knee and kissing up your inner thigh, soft lips igniting a fire within you.

You've successfully cleared the fog of his overwhelming sadness that's dwelled over him since you left, and all he can focus on is you here in front of him and his need to show his love to you. His hand brushes over you and your hips bucks upwards in anticipation. He wraps his arms around your thighs to keep you in place.

You're propped up on your elbows, watching him, face perfectly framed by his untamed curls. He leisurely presses his hot, wet tongue again you through the thin material of your panties, a low whine leaking from your throat at the feeling.

His grip tightens on your thighs, keeping you spread apart as he starts to suck a damp spot into the fabric over where he knows you're most sensitive. Your stomach coils as a pant escapes your lips, tingles shooting through your stomach. It's simultaneous pleasure and torture, all too much and yet not enough.

Even at his lowest point in life, he's a man with a mission, and he still loves to tease you.

Once you've finally had enough, breathless with little whimpers of "please" and "baby," he takes his time in removing the thin material, pausing for a moment before licking a bold stripe up your core, holding an intense stare as he looks up at you through his eye lashes. Your head falls back, eyes screwing shut at the overwhelming feeling.

His tongue licks slow, precise strokes, your legs wrapping around his neck to pull him in closer. Your hands tangle into his hair and tug lightly, and when his name falls from your lips desperately he's humming against you, low vibration surging through you.

His tongue slowly unravels you, secretly spelling out "I love you" and his name with the tip of his tongue in careful strokes into your most sacred place, leaving his invisible mark on you.

You keep your eyes shut as your lips part, mouth hanging open in pleasure. His warm tongue trails down to circle your entrance before gliding in and out of you quickly. You cry out his name again, motivating him to continue. His tongue curves up, bumping your walls and making you clench around the soft muscle. You take in a sharp breath as his lips suction to your sensitive swell and suck gently, building up the pressure inside you.

His tongue is relentless as it flicks back and forth over you, holding your hips down to keep you at his mercy.

When your moans become more frequent Harry pulls away and sticks a slender finger into his mouth, tugging his rings off with his teeth and spitting them out onto the floor, metal clattering against wood echoing throughout the silent house.

His thick finger pumps in and out of you slowly, drawing out every movement, making sure you feel every second of it. He sticks a second one in, the pad of his thumb circling your sensitivity in steady figure-eights. His fingers curl inside of you, rubbing against every sensitive bump and crevice. You arch your back and let out a loud moan, and he places his other large hand on your tummy to hold you down firmly, long fingers stretching from under your belly button to right below your breast.

His forehead rests against the inside of your thigh as his hand continues to work you, resuming his kisses on the sensitive skin. His hair tickles your skin slightly as his plump lips press delicately against you, each one sending electricity straight to your core.

He pauses in between each one to speak to you. "My only angel....everything for you....love you forever."

His skilled movements and words, raw with emotion, have your legs trembling as you fist his hair and the bed sheet roughly. His fingers keep moving inside you as he brings his mouth back to you and lays his tongue down flat. He laps over you with thick strokes that make your toes curl, and you're fluttering your eyes open to finally look at him.

It feels like the wind has been knocked out of you when your eyes connect with his deep green ones, mischievous glint returned and shining brightly. His eyes bore into yours, staring into your soul with such an intensity that the entire word stops. You forget about the messy break up and your crippling responsibilities and overwhelming issues you have yet to deal with. Harry is knelt between your thighs in all his glory; unruly curls that create a halo around him, silver cross dangling from his neck, swirls of black tattoos covering his skin, shadows casting down his perfect bone structure.

He looks so heavenly, yet so sinful, purity and temptation luring you in and keeping you close. He is like a blessing from above, a precious angel that's descended down unto this undeserving Earth, and he loves you. He really fucking loves you.

He doesn't break your gaze as his tongue moves faster, his eyes absorbing every little expression and sound he's able to pull out of you. Memorizing every second just incase this time will really be the last. He's captivated you and you're unable to pull away, completely consumed by him and the way he's making you feel. His tongue is quickly replaced by his thumb as his voice hits your ears like soft silk, "Mmm, love you so much, so beautiful."

His hot breath fans over you, words floating gracefully off his pink, plump lips. "Come undone for me," and with that you're pushed over the edge as a wave a pleasure is rushes through you, seeping through your bones and overtaking every cell in your body.

In a blurry haze the only clear thought is your mind is Harry, and you're moaning out his name repeatedly like you're begging for mercy. His fingers move in small strokes to help draw out your high as he steadies you. You're seeing white, bones buzzing, ears ringing. Waves of pleasure racking through you endlessly, making you tremble at its constancy. You've never felt quite as good as you do in this moment.

You're panting heavily with closed eyes as Harry crawls back onto the bed, pulling you closely to him and bringing you back to reality. You're snuggling into his warm chest, needy for his affection and whimpering slightly as you slowly return back to reality. His arms wrap around you, hands rubbing up and down your sides in a comfortingly gesture as he covers your bodies with a blanket. Your face tucks into the curve of his throat, breathing him in as your heart flutters and your mind stops, warm lips pressed against his soft skin as his pulse remains a steady beat.

And it is in this final moment that you accept you can't escape this gravitational force that is constantly bringing you back to Harry. You accept that you surely can't proceed without him, unsure how you've managed to get by the past few months at all with such a significant piece of you missing. You surrender willingly, to your biggest desire and weakness. Harry's love has seeped through your pores, smothering you completely.

"M'sorry, I'm so sorry. Never wanna hurt you again, never wanna leave. Love you so much."

Harry's heart is swelling with emotion as your words mend him back together, broken pieces fitting better than they ever have before.

All is silent, bodies united, two souls intertwined.

"My baby finally came home."