#angst blurb

Harry hurts his daughter’s feelings when he plays favorites

Word Count: 5.3K

This is PURE ANGST it’s not SMUT no matter how kinky the title sounds

-

“And where do you think you were all night long?” Harry stands in the kitchen, a glass of water sitting in front of him as he stares a stare that could burn a hole through his daughter. His hair is disheveled from waking up in the middle of his sleep, and just when he’d walked downstairs to get some water - assuming all three of his children were asleep - he spotted his 16 year old daughter tiptoeing in through the front door of their large house.

Rose flinches, eyes shutting as she wishes to poof her way out of the situation. She knew she would be grounded for the rest of the week. Harry didn’t have much trust in her, and wouldn’t believe that she was just trying to stay out of her home at her friend Ellie’s house, but it was true. She wasn’t doing drugs, drinking, having sex, or anything that he probably thought she was doing.

“I’ll just go ground myself for the rest of the week.” She simply says. Harry nods momentarily, agreeing with her punishment, but he doesn’t like that she doesn’t seem affected by it at all. So before she can reach the large marble staircase, he changes the circumstances to her punishment.

“Rest of the month, Rose. You’ve got to know what you’ve done.” Y/N’s fists ball at her sides, and she tries not to show her anger boiling up in her chest. She knew that if Ethan - her brother who was just a year older than her - had been the one showing up late, he would’ve been met with a disappointed conversation and no real circumstance.

“Dad, don’t you think that’s a little too far?” She questions, Green eyes locking onto his own as they stare at each other across the living room. He shakes his head, he loved his daughter, but he needed her to know that sneaking out and doing lord knows what wasn’t an appropriate behavior, especially when he was once her age and knew exactly what kids did at 16.

“You broke curfew, lied to your mum and I about where you were.” He shakes his head in disappointment, “You can’t keep coming home late and expecting there to not be circumstances.”

Rose should’ve expected the overactive punishment. She was always the one who was seemingly the most punished. Truthfully, she’d stayed out of the house for most of the night because she just needed some time away from Harry. As much as she was lucky to have a father who was present in her life, it felt as if he loved her less than he did her siblings.

“Dad, you wouldn’t have done that to Ethan if he came home late.” She bites back. Harry’s jaw clenches, eyebrow flicking upwards, and Rose wishes she never said anything because she knows he’s angry.

“Just go to your fucking room. Please.” He sighs, rubbing his thumbs against the sides of his head. Nodding defeatedly, she quietly begins pattering up the stairs.

“Wouldn’t expect you to be nice to me for once.” Rose mutters, and Harry doesn’t hear her. She drags herself up the staircase of the home, wishing she could somehow make her father like her as much as he did her siblings.

-

“Could I have some more mashed potatoes, please?” Angelina sits in her little booster seat next to Rose at the dinner table. Her little feet, clad with light up sneakers, kick at the legs of the table.

Y/N walks around the table, her 6 year old daughter cheesing up at her as she plops mashed potatoes out of the large ceramic crock pot. Her fingers reach out to pinch at Angelina’s tiny little cheeks, and she coos at how cute she looks.

Y/N looks around the table as she sits down, Harry’s hand immediately reaching out to make itself at home on her thigh as she picks up her utensils to continue eating. Ethan finishes a story about his soccer team’s antics, and Harry laughs at the boyish behavior that he himself used to exhibit.

“Oh, by the way, I got an A on my World History exam.” Ethan says. Y/N smiles, reaching out to pat her son on the back, and Ethan’s curly hair flopping as he nods reminds Y/N so much of Harry’s.

“I’m proud of you.” Harry starts, fork reaching up to his lips to throw a green bean in his mouth, “You’re the captain of two sports teams, and you’re doing well in school. I couldn’t be prouder.” He smiles, and Ethan is used to it. His dad had always encouraged him, and told him he was proud almost every night. Harry went to every single one of Ethan’s baseball and soccer games, always hugging Angelina close to his chest as he cheered his son on.

“What about you, Angie?” Harry calls her by her nickname, and her brown hair whooshes over as she turns to look at him.

“I drew something at school!” Angelina speaks up, voice a few octaves above everyone else’s. She points to the fridge, where various drawing from all of the kids are hung up on the metal doors. Harry lets out a playful round of applause, long arms reaching out to tickle her and shower her with kisses.

“My little artist!” He exclaims, and Angelina shouts as he tickles at her small belly. Ethan laughs across the dinner table, and Rose lets a small smile worm its way onto her lips.

They continue picking at their individual plates, silverware clattering against teeth and glass plates as they dine some more. Y/N waits for Harry to ask Rose what she did that day, after all, he’d asked the other two children. Y/N knew Rose wasn’t the most secure person, and she knew Rose wanted to be appreciated sometimes.

When her husband continues to pick at the chicken on his plate, eyes focused on only the chunk of meat in front of him, she takes it upon herself to ask instead.

“Rose, honey, what did you do today?” Harry’s eyes flicker up, expression blank from his face as he forks a piece of grilled chicken into his mouth and awaits his daughter’s answer. She shrugs, food almost empty from her plate as her baggy t shirt shakes from her breathing.

“Well, next year i’m going to have to start applying to colleges.” Y/N nods, and Rose continues speaking. Ethan’s eyes flicker over to Rose’s and he’s suddenly interested since he himself had just entered in his last application. “And a few months ago I applied for this thing, I didn’t think i’d get it, but it covers like 10,000 dollars for every year of college. I got it, and they want to do an interview for the school paper.”

Rose was truthfully proud of herself, she didn’t think there was any chance of her receiving the award, but after she had, she was the most ecstatic she’d been in a while. She wanted to be known for more than ‘Harry Styles’ Daughter’, or  ‘Ethan Styles’ Sister’, and all of her years of hard work had hopefully paid off. She hoped that, for once, Harry would be as proud of her as he was for her other siblings, as dumb as it seemed to sound.

Y/N gets up from her chair, walking across the table to wrap her arms around her daughter’s small frame. Rose smiles as her mum squeezes her tightly in her arms, heart warming up in adoration, but then her eyes look over at Harry and her stomach drops.

He doesn’t have a smile on his face, instead, he’s started talking to Ethan about something and she feels stupid for even thinking he would care. Defeated feeling crawling it’s way onto her face, Y/N notices her gaze and her change in demeanor, and walks back over to her chair, placing a hand on Harry’s thigh.

“Baby, aren’t you proud of Rose? I mean it’s a huge scholarship that she’s gotten!” Harry nods briefly, head just barely flicking up and down and he forces a smile onto his face, “Of course, darling, but I could always just pay whatever she needs. I’d rather she use that energy to try and go to bed instead of sneaking out.” He scolds once again.

Rose shakes her head, shoving a last spoonful of potatoes into her mouth, and grabbing her phone from the corner of the table. She excuses herself, and her mother shoots her a worried glance, but she just walks away, and pads up the stairs into her bedroom.

-
Rose throws her backpack into the trunk of Ethan’s jeep, tugging herself towards the passenger’s seat of his car. Her eyebrows remained furrowed in a scowl, arms only uncrossing to open the door to the car before she can get in and cross them over her chest again.

Ethan finishes throwing his baseball gear into the back of his car, and shuts the trunk before jogging up to the driver’s seat. He’s a bit defeated as well, but Rose just looks properly upset, close to tears, even, as water glazes over her hazel eyes.

“You good baby sis?” he asks, pushing his key into his ignition, but pausing before moving the car to look at her. Rose just nods quietly, eyes glued to the airbag label in front of her as she wishes to sleep her day away.

Her eyes glaze over a bit and she shuts them quietly, but her heart still hammers against her chest quickly. She feels the car moving, and quietly wishes she could sleep the day off.

It wasn’t like anyone would think her grades were bad, had they seen the report card themselves. All it was was a B, a stupid little B in the class that she’d been struggling in for the past few months. Music was supposed to be an easy class, but after being assigned as a final project to make their own song, Rose knew her lack of musical talent (Ethan and Angelina had received all of it) would screw her over. And that’s exactly what it had done.

It was the first B she’d ever received, and as much as she understood she could be overreacting, she also knew that she didn’t want anything to ruin the chance she had of getting into the college she wanted to go to.

When she opens her tired eyes, they’re in front of the house, brick walls towering over the two of them. Ethan was just barely taller than Harry, curly hair lining up almost perfectly between the two boys. Rose knew her parents were expecting report cards, and wanted nothing more than to run to her friend’s home and stay there for an indefinite amount of time.

Ethan steps forward first, swinging the door open as he holds it open for Rose. She ducks under the bicep of his arm to enter the house, and Harry and Y/N are standing in the kitchen cutting up carrots and onions when they walk in.

Y/N is the first to greet them, “My babies!” Running forward, she leans up on her tippy toes to press a kiss to Ethan’s cheek, and she levels herself back onto the bottoms of her feet to kiss roses cheek. She tells them she’s made a snack on the kitchen counter, a pastry of some sort, and asks them to leave their report cards on the counter before going upstairs.

So both Rose and Ethan nervously leave their grades on the counter and nervously patter up the stairs to their rooms.

Rose soothes her worried heart with a cup of tea, and ends up lying under her soft cotton sheets, an episode of a comedy show on Netflix displaying on her little TV. The walls of her room are pink, and despite being a teenager, she still has several of her favorite childhood stuffed animals on top of her pillows.

She heard footsteps aggressively stomp up the stairs and she thinks nothing of it, head focused on the little bit of tiredness nudging at her brain. She wanted to doze off for a bit before dinner, and she knew that sleep would be very comfortable after a long day of uncomfortable worry.

But just as she feels her eyes beginning to droop, Rose feels her room shaking, and her door swinging open.

“Music class? You got a B in fucking music class?” Her dad nags at her, and she just rolls her eyes out of his view and wants to shut him out of her room. Her hands lay flat against the sheets of the bed, and she pushes herself up to sit upright as Harry fumes at her.

He holds a crinkled paper in his hands, her report card, and she feels more ashamed of herself than anything else. The flash of black ink on the paper makes her heart sad again, and her chest fills with worry once more. The comedy show has laugh tracks playing in the background, but she can’t seem to be happy anymore as she feels sad again.

“How the fuck did this happen?” He raises his voice again. Rose flinches, eyebrows pinching up at the middle as he scolds her like she’s a child. He hadn’t been properly angry with her in a while (he was too preoccupied to care).

“The final project was half of the grade.” She murmurs through her lips, legs still warm underneath the thick comforter. She stares at the little mosquito scars on her thighs, and tries to connect the spots to try to distract from the situation.

“Rose, look at me when i’m speaking to you!” Harry exclaims, marching over to stand next to her tall bed.

Tears well up in her eyes, and she looks at her legs in shame, before flicking her green eyes up to meet her Father’s.

“Dad, I asked you to help me with my final but you told me you would after Ethan’s game.” She says quietly, too defeated to raise her voice as it would be uncontrollably shaky, “And then I asked you after and you were too busy tucking Angelina in.” She tells him.

“Stop coming up with excuses, you should’ve tried harder.” Rose nods at him. She should’ve tried harder, maybe studied a few more hours, and skipped snack breaks to stay highlighting materials at her desk. She’d tried her hardest in all of her classes, she always did, skipping out on high school parties and basketball games just to stay at home and work. But she knew what her dad was saying was right, and she bit at the skin under her teeth to try to keep from crying.

“I don’t understand how the one B you got, was in a class that I passed without even trying. I just don’t get it.”

“I’m sorry, dad, i’ll try harder next time.” She curtly replies, wanting him to leave her room so that she could cry. Maybe if she’d tried harder, skipped more plans than she already did, she would’ve gotten an A in the stupid class and he would’ve actually been proud of her for once.

Harry just lets out a disappointed sigh, body walking out of the room, and right when he leaves Rose jumps out from her bed before closing the wooden door and locking it. She throws herself onto the bed face first, and tucks her face into her fingers.

She sobs loudly, and through the thin door of her room Y/N hears her first daughter crying. Her heart pinches at the noise, and when she turns to possibly talk to Harry about trying to be more appreciative of Rose, she realizes that he’s in Ethan’s room, a hand rubbing circles into Ethan’s muscly back as he comforts his son over the C he received in chemistry.

“Listen, you’re good at Baseball and soccer, you’re amazing. You’re going to be so successful, and colleges are going to accept you no matter what because they know that. So just do better next semester, try to be a little better, and i’m always here if you need help.”

Y/N bites her thumb. She’s glad that her husband is so good to her son, and she’s happy that he’s being a good father to him, but she’s upset because he’s so obviously cruel to Rose. She knew how neglected Rose felt by herself, as she was the only one of their children who had no interest in music, but she also knew that Rose would’ve probably been more disappointed in herself than anything else.

Sighing, she steps down the stairs, and brews two cups of tea to have a conversation with her husband.

-

Harry’s heart tenses when he spots the door to Rose’s room. Little drawings and doodles of flowers decorated the door to it, and there’s a little yellow poster with the words ‘Treat People with Kindness’ hanging on the wooden surface.

Y/N had just told him of the way Rose could feel neglected by him, and the way that he clearly treated her worse than he did the other siblings. Harry hadn’t realized up until that point, but he was still quite defeated over the news.

He reaches his fingers forward, hands curling around the  cold metal of her doorknob, but before he musters up the courage to twist it himself, he feels the metal twist on it’s own and the door props open.

And there stands his daughter, eyes a bit greener than his own, with her chestnut hair unmistakably relating her to him. Her cheeks are soft and flushed, and her eyes are a little bit puffy. It’s from waking up after a nap, Harry thinks.

“Hi, darling.” He simply states, and Rose just nods, trying not to burst into tears again. Her baggy t-shirt is comfortable, and her mouth feels dry from crying into the pillow for the past hour.

Harry sighs, “Listen, I know I was a bit…” He trails off, looking for the right words, “Harsh, earlier. But know that I love you, and that I don’t want you to hate me, alright?” He clarifies. She curtly nods, feeling just a tiny bit better, but still being unsure. She knew without a doubt that he loved her, he was her father after all. But Rose knew that there was a difference between loving someone as a daughter, and loving someone like Harry loved her other siblings.

So she just assures him with an “Of course, dad. I don’t hate you.” and brushes past him to walk down the stairs.

-
Rose is surrounded by adults, and annoying little children.

Her cousins had come over for some reason, and all of them decided to have sword fights with foam swords (that hurt far too much for being made out of foam) and shoot styrofoam bullets at each other with nerf guns. Rose and Ethan sit annoyed, rubbing at their heads as they try to focus on their phone screens amidst the children yelling.

When a little boy who’s chasing Angie around the couch accidentally aims his sword incorrectly, the foam piece clocking right onto Ethan’s phone screen, he angrily picks it up, and stands up from the couch.

“Do you want to go see what the adults are doing?” And Rose has never stood up faster in her life, almost bolting upright as another little boy lets out a scream. Some of the children she’d never even seen before, and she figures they’re the children of her dad’ cousins.

They walk out of the play room, straight out into the living room where a few older men are watching some sports game with beers in their hands. They recline on the leather chairs, and Rose spots her parent speaking to many other adults around the island of the kitchen. There’s a platter of cheese and crackers in front of them, and one of their older cousins speaks of his college experience as the parents laugh lightly.
While Ethan takes a seat next to some old man that Rose has only seen in a few pictures, he talks about the baseball game with him. Rose pulls her phone out of her pocket, ready to sit next to Ethan and mindlessly watch cake videos again, until she hears something that makes her ears perk up.

“Harry, Y/N, how are the kids? Rose and Ethan have grown up so fast! Angie still has some time at home.”

She hears other people agreeing, some woman squeaking out a solemn ‘she’s so cute!’

“Ethan’s quite the young man.” Harry gushes, “He’s got my musical talent, that’s for sure. If baseball and soccer don’t work out for him, I know for sure he’ll take my musical talent and put it to good use.” Ethan seems to have the same idea as Rose, eyes still half heartedly trained onto the game while a little smile plays at his lips.

Rose loved her brother, she just got a bit frustrated at times, wishing she was more like him. Or wishing her parents would appreciate her, as much as they appreciated him.

“And Rose, well sometimes I wished she’d taken after her siblings more.” The adults laugh, as if they don’t understand how Harry’s blatantly rude words could possibly be offensive. Rose suddenly becomes a lot less annoyed, and a lot more upset. Her phone screen has turned black from her not tapping on it, and her bottom lip trembles when he speaks. Ethan notices, and wraps a strong arm around his little sister’s shoulder.

“You know he didn’t mean it like that, sis.” He tries to comfort, and Rose has stopped listening. She instead just tells him she’s a bit tired (‘I think i’m going to go for a nap, E.’) and slips up the stairs back up to her room, feeling her mascara rush down her cheeks before she can fully shut the door behind her.

-

“That looks so good.” Harry stares in awe, mouth watering, at the dish of meat in the oven. He licks his lips, stomach growling as he inhales the garlicky scent, and Y/N laughs about it before pushing him away from the oven so that she can open it to check on the lamb.

“Harry, baby, can you please go tell the kids to wash their hands, I think they’re all in the play room.” Harry nods, pressing a solid kiss against his wife’s forehead, and walking through the delicious scent to the hallway on the first floor of the house. He’s happy that his kids are close, and that they find time to appreciate each other. Smiling, he’s about to open the white door when-

“Who do you like more, mom or dad?” Angelina asks in her tiny voice, Harry smiles, a grin creeping onto his face as he decides he’ll stand there a little longer to hear their answers before he calls them for dinner.

“I love mom, and she’s amazing, but dad’s always been the one i’m closest to. He’s at all of my games, he used to be a rockstar, and he’s just…the best.” Harry hears Ethan gush through the door and his heart speeds up. He remembered going to Ethan’s game ever since he was just a small child, and he could always appreciate the curly hair and green eyes that matched his own.

“What about you guys?” He hears Ethan ask. A small tud is heard and then he hears Angie, “Me too! Daddy’s the best. He buys me ice cream whenever I want, and he reads me stories at night about princesses.” He hears her exclaim. Harry’s heart doubles over, doing little spins as he hears his children laugh from inside. But when he hears Rose’s unmistakable voice, he can almost picture her green eyes squinting.

“Well I disagree.”

Ethan’s low voice comes next, “Why’s that?”

Someone sighs, and a little squeak emits (from the toy Rose bought Angie with her leftover lunch money). There’s a short moment of silence.

“Just, don’t think dad likes me much.” He hears Rose admit, voice completely steady as she shrugs it off like it’s not a big deal. Rose just keeps her eyes on the screen of the family movie her and her siblings watch, a bowl of chips in front of them as Angie squeaks her new toy some more.

Harry’s heart stops, tensing a bit as he tries to digest her words. Why on Earth would she think that? Harry loved Rose, she was always so intelligent, and she was one of the most important girls in his life. He remembered the first time he’d ever laid eyes on her, in a hospital room aside Y/N as they smiled down at the barely noticeable traces of hair on her little head. He was always going to be fond of her, regardless of what she thought.

“Why would you think that?” Ethan asks, and it’s if he read Harry’s mind.

“He just, doesn’t care about anything I do.” Rose shrugs, “He’s always mean to me, and he goes to all of your games, and all of Angie’s school performances, but hasn’t gone to a single art showcase of mine, and it’s always just mom there. She always says he’s busy or something, but I go home and he’s just woken up from a nap.” Rose shrugs, shoulders staying still as she nonchalantly pops a chip into her mouth.

Ethan comforts her with an, “I’m sure he loves you just as much as he loves the rest of us.” And Angie squeaks her toy to agree, but Rose just tenses her face and leaves the subject as it is.

Harry swears tear well up at his eyes. Partially at Rose’s gruelling confession, but mostly because he didn’t even know she was interested in art, let alone in any showcases. He wondered if Y/N had ever mentioned them, or if he’d been to enamored in his other children to notice.

He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but somewhere along the line he’d lost his appreciation in her, and now she was unphased by the fact that her own father seemed like he wanted nothing to do with her, and that made him overly upset.

So instead of telling them dinner’s ready, Harry sadly walks back to the kitchen, standing next to Y/N who was grabbing plates out of the dishwasher.

“Hey, where are the kids?” She asks, and Harry just shakes his head. She sets the plates down onto the counter and walks towards him, hands placed on his cheeks to pull his face up.

“Does Rose,” He sputters, words a little bit delayed because he can’t even realize she really thinks that, “Does Rose like art?” And Y/N freezes in her place, eyes widening a bit as if she’s gobsmacked that he didn’t know.

She lets out a loud breath, inhaling deeply before replying, “Yes, she’s been drawing since she was seven. She’s won a lot of awards, did you know she was considered to paint a mural next to city hall?” Y/N smiles proudly, remembering how her daughter excitedly came up to her with the news the other day. She was proud of Rose, always saving the little paintings her oldest daughter would make her.

But the fridge was filled with baseball drawings and scribbles, and the one drawing Rose had on the fridge was covered with Ethan and Angie’s.

Harry rests both palms on the counter, ring clad fingers curling around the marble as he puts his weight onto it. All that time he’d just been gushing about Angie and Ethan, and trying to help them because he’d known that they shared his love in music, but he’d hardly acknowledged Y/N.

He’d pushed her aside to the point where she thought he didn’t even like her. His on daughter.

“God, i’m-” droplets of water begin to dribble out of his eyes, onto the dark wood floor of the kitchen, “i’m the worst fucking father.” He exclaims, and Y/N immediately reaches out to wrap her arms around his waist from the side. He doesn’t look at her, instead being disappointed in himself.

They both hear footsteps patter out of the room, and Angie wails “I’m hungry!” while they all spread out to their designated areas. Rose quietly pads up to her room, and Harry keeps his eyes glued onto her as he does.

“Whatever you’re cooking it smells delic-” Ethan cuts himself off, eyebrows furrowing as he looks at his dad with a distressed expression on his face.

“Dad? You good?” He asks, but Harry dodges the question entirely, making his own.

“Ethan, does your little sister think that I hate her?” Harry asks, and Ethan immediately answers.

“Angie loves you, of course no-”

“Not her, Rose.” Harry cuts off. Ethan widens his eyes slightly, mouth shutting quickly as he goes without a reply for a few moments. Harry takes that as his answer’ heart shrinking even more.

“Well dad, you are a dick to her a lot.” He truthfully says, “Like when all of your cousins and sibling were over the other night, you said you wished she was more like us. I’m pretty sure that really hurt her feelings.” And Harry flinches because she wasn’t meant to hear it. But also, and more importantly, because he should never have said it.

“She told me she stays out late because she doesn’t want to deal with you.” And Harry excuses himself from the conversation, leaving Y/N and Ethan in the kitchen startled as he runs up the stairs. He sees her bedroom door, drawing glued onto the wood, and he knows he’s stupid for not knowing she was so talented from the beginning.

He swings the door open and she’s stood in front of the vanity, a pair of tweezers in her left hand.

“Shit, dad, you scared me.” Rose laughs a bit uncomfortably. Tears are glazing his eyes, and he notices just how much she looks like Y/N. Just how perfect she looks, like a picture perfect combination of their best features.

“Rose, you know I love you right?” He asks her. She immediately looks away, teeth beginning to gnaw at her bottom lip and her eyes flicker to the door to Ethan’s room a few steps behind him.

“Sure, dad.” She sighs, curly hair flopping as she nods her head, trying to assure herself.

“Rose, I know I haven’t been the best dad to you recently - “ And Rose tells herself she shouldn’t, but proceeds to cut him off.

“Recently?” There’s a scowl on her face, and for the first time in his life, Harry is afraid of his daughter in front of him, “Dad, it’s always been like this. Ethan always gets to stay out as long as he wants, and he has no punishment except for a lecture. Angie’s bedtime stories are put before the most important things in my life.” She shakes her head, tears barely glazing over her eyes.

“Mom has always been the one there for me, because you don’t have time for me, and that’s okay. I understand.” Rose admits, legs a little shaky as she tries to dodge around him and end the conversation soon.

“Just a little over a year and i’ll go to college, and I won’t have to come second to anyone again.” She tells both him and herself. Sighing, she dodges past his broad frame, and begins to walk down the stairs for dinner.

And strangely, this time, it’s Harry who stands sobbing in Rose’s bedroom.

-

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Shawn thinks he can switch between dating and not dating Y/N when it’s convenient to him.

Word Count: 4K

Thank you to the anon who requested this!

-

“Can I get another tray of shots?” Shawn giggles, cheeks tinted a bright red as they glow under the lights of the noisy club. His soft cheeks are bunched together as he smiles, and the more he drinks the floatier he feels.

Shawn tries to push the memory to the back of his head, the tears glistening against her chicks. The way her voice would squeak as she tried to form cohesive sentences through a faceful of tears streaming across her face, and perhaps, just her. The look of her supple lips engraved in his mind, pressing painful bruises into his memories and he wishes the drinks could drown her away.

Y/N walks in through the front door of the loft, body tired from running around all day. Her eyes scroll carelessly around the living room, but then she spots Shawn on the couch, hands fiddling with his fingers in her lap as he sips on a cup of tea.

“Y/N, I think we should take a break.”

And then he sees her pause for a bit, eyes still flickering between him and the ground to process the information, maybe trying to convince herself it isn’t real. That it isn’t happening, but it is. The person she loves, telling her he doesn’t want her anymore. And so the bottle of water she had held onto for the entirety of her day falls to the ground, and she croaks out a shaky word.

“W-what?”

It’s no use, evidently, because every time he tries to push her out of his mind, she reappears in small flashes.

And deep down he knows it’s his fault, knows that he was childish for thinking she would wait for him. He knows that there were better ways of handling the situation, perhaps any way that didn’t involve losing her. But here he was, drinking in a club in London after telling the girl he loved that he wanted a break.

“I just think we should take a break when i’m in Europe! That’s it! Just for a few months.” He rushes to tell her, he wants her to know that he still wants her, that he still loves her and wants to be with her afterwards. He just wanted some time, to figure out who he was before he was with her.

“I-If you think that’s what’s best.” Y/N has stuttered out, pips trembling a bit as she tried to keep herself together. She had  hand placed on the kitchen counter, supporting her weight as she took his words in. He didn’t want her, he wanted to drop her and then take her back because of what was convenient to him.

Truthfully, Y/N was devastated, and she reconsidered even being with him at all many times. The break he’d suggested hadn’t made her understanding, or made her sure about being with him at all. If anything, it had made her skeptical, and it had made her wonder just how easily he thought he could slither out of their relationship if needed.

So when Shawn had called her two weeks into the break, telling her he’d made a mistake and that he didn’t want to lose her at all, he was heartbroken when she replied on the other side of the line.

“Shawn, I…I don’t know.”

Shawn couldn’t stop picturing her in his head. He opened his eyes and things reminded him of her, he closed them and he envisioned her with someone else. Tugging at his hair, he downed another hot shot of liquor, throat burning as the music made everything seem woozy.

Maybe she’d found another guy? Perhaps his reckless decision of breaking her heart by saying what they had was easily disposable had led to her finding another guy, someone who would never ask her to break up and get back together with him when it was convenient. Maybe he’d messed up the only love he’d ever had.

He pictured the softness of her face when she would walk outside in the cold, the way she would look around with her eyes narrowed when she woke up in the morning and didn’t know where she was. The little indents on her cheek, and the hair ties she left around the flat.

“You don’t know?” Shawn runs a hand through his hair, letting out a scoff as his worry shows through his voice (and sounds a bit too close to anger). He can’t help himself. He’d just recently come to the epiphany of how stupid the idea alone was, and now he was being faced with the repercussions of it. Right after he’d realized what he’d done, he was being faced with the consequences.

“What do you mean?” He was worried quite a bit before, but when Y/N stays silent on the other side of the line, no nervous rustling or any indication of movement there, he’s properly panicking. Hand running through his curly locks, he rushes through all the possibilities of what she could say next.

“Shawn, when you just…paused us like that when it was convenient for you.” Y/N shakes her head on the other side of the line, “It just made me wonder how much you actually cared, I just need time.” She admits, chest tightening as she hears his breathing grow heavier through the phone.

Shawn stumbles off of the seat to the bar, legs a bit wobbly as he stares at the tops of people’s heads. Everything is blurry, yet he’s extremely confident in what direction he’s heading in. He remembers seeing a restroom near the back of the club, but somehow ends up in the middle of a mass of dancing people.

When he feels someone brush over the front of his jeans, a girl trying to grind into the tight denim material, he wants to enjoy it. Wants to forget about Y/N, and he wants to touch her like he touched the girl the week before.

Shawn hadn’t meant for it to happen so fast. He’d just been caught up, it wasn’t necessarily cheating since him and Y/N were on a break, a stupid one, but nevertheless a break.

So why did it hurt so much thinking about it?

After it had happened, Shawn was ridden with guilt, he was beyond worried that she would find out. But more importantly, he was worried of their relationship. He had slept with someone else, yes, but it was his fault. He was sure Y/N wasn’t prancing around, sleeping with guys all over her campus. And that’s why he’d realized just how much it’d mean to lose her, the one girl who would have the decency not to hurt him, no matter how much he hurt her.

“Baby, no, I care so much.” She hears him choke out, “So, so much.” Shawn’s head pounds, heart aching as he realizes he might actually lose her. The air feels thick all of a sudden in his large hotel room, and he tries to change her mind.

“I can’t have you thinking this, tell me we can fix this.” He rambles.

“Shawn - “

“Tell me you’re with me, Y/N. Tell me it isn’t over for us, please.”

Shawn’s fingers brush over the curve of the random girl’s hips, feeling a thin silky material there. Her hair is long, brushing against his abs as they move to the beat of the shitty rap song. Everything is a bit of the blur, but grabbing onto the soft skin of her waist calms his nerves in the blaring environment.

So he begins to trail kisses down from her ear to her neck, swiping his lips sloppily over the sweaty skin. She smells like perfume, mixed with cologne, mixed with alcohol, and when his hands wander up to grab at her breasts, he finally realizes what he’s doing.

“We do need a break, Shawn. I just, I just need time.” He hears her barely whisper into the phone. He feels guilt and hurt pinch at the outside of his heart, eyes shutting as he feels them burn with tears.

“I’m sorry, it’s my fault, isn’t it?” And he knows it’s his fault. Knows if he hadn’t suggested the stupid break to begin with, she wouldn’t have ever questioned his intentions, and wouldn’t have ever wanted to continue the break. And every moment spent without knowing she’s his is agony, but what makes it even worse is that it’s him who caused it.

“Shawn, it’s not your fault. I just…need to be confident before I can be in a relationship.” She breathes through the phone. And it hurts him even more, because he had caused it. He’d made her question herself, made her wonder (on top of her already amounted stress) why the hell her boyfriend wanted to break up with her for a month. Made her wonder why she wasn’t good enough to keep all the time.

She’s too nice, he thinks, so nice that even though they both know it’s his fault, she chooses to take some of the blame. She chooses to tell him that it’s not his fault so he won’t feel bad for something that he should feel bad for.

“What the fuck?” He mutters into her neck, and she snaps her head around hazily to stare at him. His hands drop to his sides, head pounding, and he thinks he’s going to throw up from the guilt.

So instead of looking for the bathroom, Shawn head towards the doors of the club and retches forwards, body emitting his dinner mixed with a vast amount of the different alcoholic beverages he indulged throughout the night.

His shoulders shake when he throws up, eyes squinting, and it’s a horrible feeling, he thinks. His insides feel like they’re about to drop out of him, and the only person he can blame for it is Y/N. He doesn’t know why, but he hates the guilty feeling in his chest mixed with the ache of his throat.

“Well… you take all the time you need. I love you, okay?” It takes everything in him to force the words out, and many times throughout the sentence he wants to back out and yell, ask her why the hell she doesn’t want him anymore. Tell her he’s in love with her, beg her to let him fix it.

“I love you too, Shawn.”

And the line goes dead.

The glow of his phone screen is almost painful in his intoxicated state, clouds of vapor flooding his vision every time he breathes. His eyes hurt, and his mouth has the putrid taste of vomit lingering onto it permanently.

Clicking on her contact name, he musters up all of his drunken courage, listening to the careful rings of the phone.

“Hello?”

Her voice sounds groggy, like the voice she uses when she’s been studying for hours and finally gets home. Or the one she uses when she’s brewing coffee in the morning. Shawn assumes she’s just woken up, or something along those lines, and he basks in the smooth tone of her voice. He just wants to hear it all the time, he thinks, wants to record it and play it over and over again throughout the day.

“I love youuu” He drags out, smile etched onto his face.

“Shawn, why are you calling?” She seems a bit annoyed and Shawn’s smile drops, heart hurting once more as he processes her words. She didn’t say it back. All he wanted was for her to love him enough to be with him, but after a month of being on a break, she didn’t even love him anymore.

“You didn’t say it back?” He carefully asks her, voice gentle as he worries more and more.

“I wanted a break, Shawn. I need time to think.” She simply replies, head aching at her lack of coffee. She hadn’t expected him to call right as she’d woken up for her first job at the crack of dawn, and she certainly didn’t want to hear from him for a bit until she got her thoughts together.

Shawn furrows his eyebrows, frustrated at her words. He loved her, was in love with her, was worrying about whether or not she wanted him back, and couldn’t stop thinking of anyone but her for the past two weeks. And here she was, telling him to stop calling without even telling him she loved him.

“You know, you can be a real bitch sometimes.” He angrily spits, and Y/N would be lying if she said it didn’t hurt her a lot more than she thought it would. She hadn’t been the most well received person at all times, and she always thought he’d at least be patient and kind with her, no matter what they went through.

“It’s like, i’m in love with you, but all of this bullshit.” He thinks to himself, shivering slightly at the cold winter air, “It just makes me fucking hate you.” He throws the word out there, using it to emphasize his point, but not actually meaning it at all.

Y/N swallows a tiny lump in her throat, edges of her lips curling downwards into a frown. Her hair is messy, cheeks flushed as she puffs her lips outwards sadly, “Do you have anything else to say?”

Shawn lets a few tears dribble out, swiping them away so that they don’t freeze onto his face. From outside the club, he hears hints of the electronic music and feels the beats of the song thudding beneath his feet from how loud it is. Tequila and vomit burns at the tip of his tongue, taste buds stained with another girls perfume and it’s all he can think about.

“I didn’t mean to, Y/N.” He sadly admits, head dropping down and shaking even though she can’t see him. Y/N stands frozen in her kitchen, wearing nothing but a large t shirt and her underwear with one hand on the coffee machine in front of her.

“I hate you because you hurt me so much.”

“Shawn-”

“I cheated on you.”

And the mug that was in her other hand, the one she was about to pour her coffee into, drops onto the counter in front of her with a loud clang. Her heart leaps forward and begins to thump a lot faster than it had been doing before, her head spinning at the amount of hurt suddenly flooding over her.

“Shawn, what?” She quietly squeaks out, and strangely, she isn’t even angry. No anger traces her voice, just hints of hurt leaking out through her words.

“It-” Shawn licks at his lips, “It was during our break!” He tries to justify, trying not to hurt her any more than he already had. He wants to fix it, whatever he’s done to her, but all he can hear is her whimpering through the phone line, and all he can picture is her licking her chapped lips as she widens her eyes to stop the tears from dribbling out.

“Who was it?” She asks, she didn’t know who it could possibly be, what girl he would trust enough to do anything with merely a few weeks after they’d called it quits temporarily.

“Y/N - “ He tries to reason out of hurting her more. He shouldn’t have said it, he thinks, but he’s too inebriated to think differently.

“Who the fuck was it, Shawn!” She more urgently yells at him through the phone line. He whimpers, body shifting back a small bit as he tries to collect himself.

“Stop yelling at me!” He sobs through the phone, “You can’t keep doing that after hurting me, you just.” He shakes his head, tears falling off his face when he does, “Can’t do that.”

Shawn feels himself getting angrier. She wanted to hurt him, he conspires through his intoxicated mind. She didn’t love him, and she yelled at him, and she didn’t want to be with him. Angrily, he waits for her to answer so that he can try to hurt her just as much as he’s hurting.

“H-how many?” She asks shakily.

“Just the one, and I just grinded with another one a few minutes before I called you.” He tells her, and he can hear her sniffle through the phone line, tears matching his own as they fall onto the marble flooring of her kitchen.

“Was it good?” She asks, “Was she good?”

Y/N hadn’t been the most secure person, she needed constant reassuring that she wasn’t being too much. She always asked if people were mad at her, and she never felt secure enough in herself to think she was good at anything. So when Shawn had told he he had managed to sleep with another girl during the time of their 4 week break, she instantly had the idea that he took the break just to cheat on her. Because she wasn’t enough.

“It felt really fucking good.” He tells her honestly. He wants to tell her that she wasn’t her, that no girl ever would be enough to match up to the way he felt with Y/N, but he ducks his head in shame and plays with the inklings of snow on the black road underneath him.

Y/N sobs, body falling limp onto the floor of the kitchen. Her knees press up against her chest, body rocking back and forth on the cold floor as she tries to hold herself together. The phone is set on the floor, and through the line she hears a bass beating wherever the hell Shawn is.

“How long after we called it off?” Se asks, one hand wiping under her nose as the other holds her head up by her chin.

He’s hesitant at first, rationality debating whether or not he should tell her, but when he finally says something, he instantly regrets it, “A week.” He replies, and she recalls exactly what she was doing a week after they called it off. She was calling in sick for work, telling her boss that she wanted to use up all of her sick days, and emailing her professors to ask them if they would send her the course materials through email.

She cries harder, and she feels like the room is physically spinning around her. She wishes the building would collapse around her, perhaps knocking her out so that she wouldn’t have to face the persistent ache clawing its way around her chest.

“Hey.” Shawn whispers through the phone, “Hey, please don’t cry.” He feels bad now, his tears have stopped coming out, and he sobers up a bit as he slowly pieces together what he’s just done.

“Y/N, please stop crying.” He begs, voice cracking as he asks her again, “Please, I don’t want to hear you cry.”

Her tears are persistently falling, and she can’t even form basic words as her lips curl downwards in an ugly expression, pain filling her features as she tries to convince herself it isn’t happening.

“Stop crying, i’m sorry!” He yells into the phone desperately, pitiful tears welling up in his hazel eyes as he tries to fix what he’s just demolished.

“I’m sorry, I love you.” He pathetically cries, and when he continues to hear her heavy breathing, incoherent words squeaking out of her throat, he knows he’s messed up.

So they sit like that a while, Shawn wondering how he can possibly fix things while Y/N can’t do anything but cry into her fingers. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he had, over and over again. Shawn didn’t know how to fix what was already shattered completely.

“Shawn?” She finally croaks out, and his entire body tenses at his name falling from her lips. Her voice sounds rough, and croaky, and he just wants to wrap her up into his arms and hold her until she’s done crying all the tears that she can. He wants to bring her everywhere, tuck her into his pocket and take her with him everywhere he goes because he just wants her to be with him. But how was that possible when his actions made him not even want to be with himself?

“Yeah?” He finally replies, head tilted so that it’s pressed against the door to the club.

“We don’t need this break.” She tells him, and right as he’s about to sigh in relief, “I don’t want you at all.” And that’s when he blacks out.

-

When Shawn wakes up in the morning, his eyes are barely able to wedge open before a shot of pain flood through his head. He immediately falls back onto his matress, and pulls his soft comforter over himself to guard the sunlight from hurting him.

Sighing, he drags himself out of bed, immediately smelling the putrid smell of alcohol radiating off of him. His clothes are thrown into a messy pile in the corner of the room, and he basically runs towards the shower before he can inhale any more of the smell.

After washing himself off, he grabs his phone from the nightstand. It’s dead, so he urgently plugs it in to see what time rehearsals are for his concert. His heart still aches a bit when he remembers he has no good morning text from his girlfriend to look forward to.

When his phone finally turns on fully, showing his lockscreen, he unlocks it with his face recognition and reconnects to the wifi. He has a few emails, some Instagram notifications he really doesn’t care for, but at the end of it all, he has a voicemail from Y/N.

He doesn’t know what to call her. She wasn’t technically his girlfriend anymore, even though he still considered her more than worthy of the title. He wasn’t completely her ex, seeing as they were on a break. He just wanted to be with her again, so none of this confusion would occur.

Seeing that the voicemail is rather short, merely 45 seconds, he doesn’t think it’s too big of a deal. Maybe he’d accidentally left his things in her flat and forgotten them before he left.

Without hesitation, he opens the voicemail, but he’s simply met with her sniffling, and he’s immediately worried.

“Hey.” She sniffles, “It’s crazy that i’m calling you saying this. I never thought I would have to but, uh, I think we should end things.” Shawn tenses up, the hairs on the back of his neck raising, “i just…I don’t think I could trust you, you know?” Her voice raises up near the end of her sentence and Shawn can tell she’s close to tears, “Especially after you…just a week after we took a break.” Shawn’s mind is pounding, head exploding from the information. He hadn’t told anyone about that night, about the horrible things he’d done. He never wanted her to know.

But when he hears her break down through the line of the phone, he already knows she’s made up her mind completely about being with him.

“I love you, Shawn..” She mutters between sobs, “And that’s why I can’t do this anymore, because as much as I love you, I don’t think I can feel like I deserve you. Especially after you fucked up my trust like that.” Her words are profane, but Shawn understands. If she’d slept with another guy after their break, he wouldn’t have taken a second look before cutting her completely out of his life. She was kind enough to call him to apologize, for something she didn’t do, for getting her trust broken.

Much like the night before, Shawn ends up on the floor of his hotel, downing hot mouthfuls of liquor as he sobs and tries to call a blocked number with too many memories attached to it.

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