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It's a late night in California and Harry is really exhausted after long day of shooting, maybe few years ago he wouldn't be so tired but now that he's just finished his world tour and an album promotion he just dreams of a long bubble bath.
He stumbles his way to his house and opens the door, blindly turns on the light and makes his way to the couch. He thanks himself for buying it, for god knows how much money, because it's the best, most comfortable, bloody couch he's ever lied on (except for the couch in Nick's flat but Harry doesn't want to think about it).
He kicks off his shoes and lifts himself a bit, just to take his phone out of the pocket of his ripped jeans. Ignoring texts from Jeff and Glenne he clicks little, yellow ghost app. Harry wasn't really keen on snapchat, he just didn't understand the concept of disappearing pictures. It was Jeff who told him into getting the app, suddenly Harry became the one who only spies other people, never sending anything to others, not even sharing his username with the world. He scrolls through stories of some non-important people and then he sees it. hiyagrimmy.
He lets out a tired breath, like every time he watches Nick's story. He feels kinda guilty for spying on him like that instead of a real talk that he knows they need to have. It hurts, it hurts to see Nick so happy, so occupied by the radio, X-Factor and all this kind of stuff. It hurts because Harry's always selfish when it comes to Nick and he wishes he'd be the reason of his happiness, just like it used to be.
Nick's story shows sleepy Pig with some blue sketches over her cute, little body, Harry smiles to himself until he sees Michael's tattooed arm in the background. He feels like he's been stabbed in the stomach, he knows he's overreacting, because Nick is not his property, at least not anymore, but again it hurts to know that few years ago it would be Harry to lay in his big bed with Pig cuddled between them.
They were never an item, they kept it quite simple, well it was simple except that it wasn't. Harry's always wanted more than friends with benefits kind of thing, he loved Nick, he still does, but every time he tried to talk about it, Nick would just kiss him and wouldn't let him say those three words. Now that they can't look into each others eyes, now that they grew such a distance between them, it's too late to say anything.
He runs a hand through his long hair and sighs, he can't stand it anymore. He knows its stupid and he'll regret it but he dials Nick number (which he knows by heart and doesn't need to search it in his contacts) and anxiously waits until someone (hopefully Nick) picks up.
"Wait, no, quiet" Harry hears Nick's whisper. "Hello?" his voice is so calming, Harry could listen to it all the time, he thinks too much before he realises he hasn't spoken yet. "Oh, um hello Nick"
"Something happened? Why are you calling pop star?" this stupid nickname Harry loves and hates at the same time.
"Sorry, I-"
"It's alright Harry, just tell me what happened"
"I didn't want to disturb you"
"You-" Nick sighs. "Harry, you never disturb me"
"Yeah I know" he lies because he knows he can be annoying and disturbing.
"So what's the matter? Don't keep me waiting, I'm getting worried"
"'S nothing, just missed you. Wanted to hear your voice" Harry's own voice cracks.
"Oh, sweetheart-"
"No, no, it's OK, you don't- you don't need to"
"Harry-"
"It's fine, I- we can work on it" he says, not being sure what he means by we and by it.
"Haz-"
"I know Nick, you don't have to say it. I'm sorry I called you, I just wanted to- I don't even know what I want" He tries so bad not to start crying.
The things is; only Nick knows what Harry wants, he always did, and even though he did, he never gave it to Harry, he never gave himself fully, it hurts the most. "Thanks for answering anyways, bye Grims" it happens so fast. Why would he even call? It made things even worse, Harry regrets it so bad now.
"Bye pop star" Nick says to himself because Harry's already disconnected.