Your phone lights up as a text message appears on the screen.

Hey, can you talk? H.

I guess, I don't have anything going on today. But you would have to come to my place because John is working today and the dog isn't feeling good.

Sounds good. Is 4 okay? It will be quick.

Sure.

Checking the time, you have about an hour to make yourself presentable and clean up the apartment just a little. You throw on a pair of jeans and brush your fingers through your hair before picking up things that had been scattered on the floor.

It had been a week or so since the first time you had seen Harry in three months. For some reason, you were nervous.

The doorbell buzzed, and you run to the intercom. "Hey," you press the button. "I'll be up in a minute!" He responds.

You rush to look in the mirror before you hear a knock at the door. You open the door in one swift motion. "Hey," you smile towards the man in front of you.

"Hi," he looks down to his feet. "Can I come in?" He asks politely.

"Oh yeah, of course." You move out of the door way for him to enter. He takes his shoes off slowly. "So, how have you been?" You question.

"I've been good. Nothing much happening in the life of Harry. What about you?" He asks as he walks over to the kitchen table to take a seat. You follow him.

"Nothing much. Buddy is sick today so John made me stay home with him," you answer.

"Isn't that his dog? Why do you get stuck watching the thing."

You shrug your shoulders in response. "I don't know. He asked. And I live here too."

"You say yes too much."

You roll your eyes and lean over the counter, zoning in on him. "So. Tell me Harold, why are you here?"

"You invited me," he avoids the question.

"That's not what I meant and you know it. Why did you want to talk?"

You stare into his eyes, trying to reveal the truth. He ponders in his thoughts for a moment, thinking how to answer the question that he was afraid you would ask. He pulls at his lip. "Honestly?" He asks.

"No, I want you to lie to my face Harry," you reply sarcastically. "Of course I want you to tell me the truth. We were in a relationship for more than two years. I would hope you would never lie to me."

"Okay," he takes a deep breath. You search his eyes, trying to understand what is running through his complex mind. He meets your gaze. "The truth is, I couldn't stop thinking about you after I saw you last week at the coffee shop," he confesses.

Your heart drops, and you can't think of anything to say that would make the situation any less uncomfortable than it already is. He takes his eyes off of you and stares at the apple in front of him before beginning to spin it in circles mindlessly.

"Harry," you run your fingers through your hair. "I don't know what to say," you whisper.

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything." He says in defeat, rising from his chair and putting his coat on one arm at a time. You rush to the other side of the counter, stopping him in his tracks.

"Harry, don't go," you plead. "Let's talk this through. Friends can help each other through tough times, and walking away doesn't solve anything." You look straight into his sad green eyes. The eyes of the person you were deeply, madly in love with only a few months ago.

"That's the thing!" He raises his voice. "I don't know if I can."

"What do you mean? 'I don't know if I can'?" You guide him to the sofa, where the two of you sit down next to each other.

"I don't know if I can be just 'friends' with you," he mumbles quietly. Your heart starts beating rapidly. His elbows rest on his knees as he pulls at his hair anxiously. You can barely hold in the tears threatening to burst any moment.

You grab Harry's hand. You know both of you need the support and love in this moment. Silence fills the room lost in your own thoughts.

Suddenly, you hear someone turning a key in the knob before the door opens slowly. Harry and you look at each other confused and a little worried, both of you hoping it is not who you think it is.

"Hey babe!" John yells from the hallway, where you can hear him taking his shoes and jacket off. You and Harry pull away from each other as Harry moves to the other side of the couch. You hear John's footsteps approach the living room. "Babe?"

"I'm in the living room!" You respond, quickly trying to cover up any pain in your voice. You wipe away the tears and stand, approaching him. "Hi," you walk up to him hugging him lightly. He gives you a peck on the cheek.

"Why the fuck is he here in my house," John asks defensively. He pushes you to the side, walking towards where Harry sits on the couch. Harry stands up. You block John from going any closer, resting your hands on his chest.

"I invited him. I wanted to talk. Can't two friends talk to each other once in a while?" You respond, defending Harry. You look John in the eyes, pleading him to calm down and handle this situation rationally. You can feel his heart rate increasing and his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"I was just leaving," Harry begins walking towards the front door. "Nice talking to you, Y/N." John rips your hands off him and begins stomping towards Harry.

"Listen here buddy," He pokes Harry in the arm.

"No need to touch me dude," Harry remains calm and collected.

"Fuck that. If you ever touch her again your fucking done for, got that?" John yells.

"He didn't touch me at all! Can't you see that we were just having a civil conversation? You are blowing this way out of proportion John," you interfere their little fight, stepping between the two men. "Harry, I think it's best if you leave. I'll call you later."

"You will not be calling him later," John orders.

"She can do whatever the fuck she wants, you're not the boss of her," Harry shouts back, pulling you towards him. John tears you away from Harry and pulls you into his arms. The second you leave Harry's arms you feel unsafe. You are starting to see how terrible of a person John is.

You struggle to get out of John's grasp. "John, let go of me," you beg. He holds you tighter, restricting your air.

"Let her go you sick fuck," Harry spits. You manage to tangle yourself free of John's firm grip. You turn away, trying to catch your breath. When you look back, the scene playing out in front of you leaves you speechless.

John's fist connects with Harry's face. Blood splatters everywhere. Harry is quick to punch back, right in John's stomach. John looses his breath, bending over in pain. Harry takes the opportunity to uppercut him right in the jaw, before kneeing him in the balls. You are paralyzed.

Harry quickly pulls you into his arms. You squeeze him tightly. His beautiful face bleeds from his nose. He wipes the red onto his shirt.

You help pick up John, who is doubled over in pain on the floor. You drag him to the front door, and push him into the hallway. He just stands there looking at you in shock. His jaw is bleeding and his always perfect hair is disheveled.

"We are done John. You are a manipulative piece of shit. I hope you find someone you deserve, cause it certainly isn't me."

"Wait -"

You slap him in the face. Harry snickers behind you. "Fuck you." You slam the door shut in one swift motion and turn your attention to Harry, who has a proud smile on his face. You laugh in disbelief.

"Come here," Harry holds out his arms for you. You have no problem accepting his offer, and you embrace him.

"I'm so sorry Harry," you choke up, looking up to see his bloody face.

"Hey, don't apologize," he whispers into your hair, hugging you tight.

"You should go home and clean up Harry," you suggest, wiping away some blood from his lips with your thumb. You kiss his cheek, pulling your self away from him. He slowly pulls you back into his arms, and kisses the top of your head.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" You ask.

"Only if you want to," he replies with a shrug.

"Of course."

"Where to?"

You think for a moment. "How about the normal. Before work tomorrow at our coffee spot?" You suggest with a grin.

"Sounds perfect," Harry responds.