Different 31 (Patreon)

Author's note: Hello my lovely friends! I hope you got some rest this weekend! The results are in and I'm going to try to write TWO one shots this weekend. Simultaneously. For now, here is a new chapter of Different. Let me know what you think! 

word count: 2.8K

 The cold Chicago wind hit Harry's face as he stepped out of the airport, the weight of the past few weeks pressing on his shoulders. His duffel bag felt heavier than usual, but it was nothing compared to the exhaustion that had settled deep in his bones. His steps were slow, his eyes scanning the crowd until he spotted Mitch leaning against his car. Harry didn’t miss the way Mitch’s brows furrowed the moment he laid eyes on him.

"You look like shit," Mitch said flatly as Harry approached.

Harry offered a weak smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "Thanks, mate. Needed that."

Mitch shook his head, opening the trunk for Harry to toss in his bag. “I mean it, though. What the hell happened? You leave with your girl to London, and now you’re back looking like you haven’t slept in a month.”

Harry climbed into the passenger seat, leaning his head back against the headrest. He shut his eyes, trying to find the words, but all he could see was the look on Y/N’s face before she left. The hurt, the disbelief. He swallowed hard before speaking.

"It all fell apart on Christmas Day," Harry began, his voice strained. "Ivy showed up… at my family’s house."

Mitch cursed under his breath, starting the car but keeping his eyes fixed ahead. "Ivy? What the hell was she doing there?"

"Exactly," Harry muttered bitterly. "I didn’t know she was coming. She just showed up. And Y/N… Y/N saw her and lost it. She packed up and left before I could explain. I’ve been texting, calling, anything to get through to her, but… nothing." His voice cracked, the weight of the silence from Y/N crushing him more with every passing day.

Mitch let out a low, frustrated sigh. "Mate, you’re an idiot."

Harry’s eyes snapped open, turning to face him. "You think I don’t know that?"

"I’m not talking about Ivy showing up. I’m talking about you not handling it. You didn’t shut it down fast enough, didn’t make Y/N feel safe with you. Ivy’s a problem, yeah, but this is on you, Harry. You’ve gotta own it."

Harry’s chest tightened, guilt wrapping around his ribs like a vice. He stared out the window as the city blurred past, wondering if Mitch was right—if he could have stopped it before it all crumbled.

"I just want to know she’s okay," Harry said quietly after a moment. "Do you know where she is? Have you heard anything?"

Mitch’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his expression unreadable. "She’s been staying with James and Sebastian up at their North Shore houses. She hasn’t been around since… well, since everything went down."

Harry exhaled sharply, leaning his head against the window. So close, yet so far. The silence between him and Y/N wasn’t just physical—it was deeper than that, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

As they pulled away from the airport, Harry stared at his phone, the temptation to call Y/N creeping back into his mind. But he knew it was pointless. She wasn’t picking up for him. She probably wouldn’t for a while. His thumb hovered over Sarah’s name instead. He knew she and Y/N had grown close, and if anyone could talk to her, it would be Sarah.

Mitch noticed the movement and glanced over. “Calling her won’t fix things, mate.”

Harry sighed. “I’ve got to try.”

With a deep breath, he hit the call button. The phone rang once, twice, then clicked. Sarah’s voice came through, but something was off—there was no warmth, none of the friendliness that usually greeted him.

"Harry." Her tone was clipped, distant.

"Sarah, hey. I—uh, I know this is awkward, but I really need to talk to you about Y/N."

There was silence on the other end, and for a moment, Harry thought she’d hung up. When Sarah finally spoke, her voice was firm. "I’m not going to tell you anything. You need to stop looking for her."

His heart dropped. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling under his skin. "Sarah, please. I just need to explain—"

"There’s nothing to explain, Harry," Sarah cut him off, her voice sharp. "You screwed up, and now you’ve got to live with it. Y/N doesn’t need more heartbreak, and if you really cared about her, you’d leave her alone."

Harry felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He knew he messed up, but hearing it so plainly from someone who knew Y/N best made the guilt feel even heavier. "I can’t just leave it like this," he said quietly, almost pleading. "We have to talk about what happened. I need her to understand… it wasn’t what she thought."

"Wasn’t it?" Sarah’s question lingered, and Harry’s chest tightened.

"It wasn’t," Harry said, his voice breaking slightly. "Please, Sarah. I’m begging you. I just need her to give me a chance to explain."

There was another long pause. When Sarah spoke again, the edge in her voice had softened slightly, but there was still hesitation. "I don’t know, Harry. Y/N’s been through a lot, and right now, I don’t think she’s ready to hear from you."

"Just… ask her for me," Harry pleaded. "If she wants nothing to do with me after that, I’ll leave her alone. But she needs to hear the truth."

Sarah sighed, and for a moment, Harry thought he might’ve gotten through to her. "I’ll think about it," she said finally. "But I’m not making any promises."

"That’s all I’m asking for," Harry said, relief washing over him, even if it was small. "Thank you, Sarah."

"Don’t thank me yet," she replied, her voice hardening again. "Just… don’t get your hopes up."

The call ended with a soft click, and Harry lowered the phone, staring down at it like it held all the answers. Mitch glanced over, his expression unreadable.

"Well?" Mitch asked.

Harry shook his head. "She’s not going to make it easy."

Mitch smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "No one said it would be."

By the time Harry reached the dorm, the weight of the conversation with Sarah still clung to him. The building was quiet, the kind of eerie stillness that came after the holidays when most students hadn’t yet returned. As he unlocked the door and pushed it open, he was greeted by the familiar sight of his half-stripped room. His bed was bare—no sheets, no pillows, just the naked mattress he and Ganesh had left behind when they packed up for the break. The room itself felt colder than usual, almost hollow.

But something was wrong. His eyes narrowed as they landed on a figure sitting on the edge of his unmade bed.

Ivy.

She was perched there, legs crossed, her eyes calmly watching him as if she had every right to be there. Harry’s jaw clenched, the exhaustion that had been gnawing at him replaced by a surge of irritation.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked, his voice harsher than intended.

Ivy didn’t flinch. Instead, she tilted her head, her lips curling into a small, knowing smile. "Nice to see you too, Harry."

His hands balled into fists at his sides, fighting the urge to yell. The room already felt suffocating, but seeing Ivy sitting on his bed, in the very place Y/N should have been, made it worse. He glanced around the room, noting how bare it was—the perfect mirror to how he felt inside.

"I asked you a question," he said, stepping further into the room, his eyes locked on hers. "Why are you here?"

Ivy uncrossed her legs and stood, smoothing down her dress with slow, deliberate movements. "I thought we should talk. Clear the air, maybe."

Harry let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "There’s nothing to clear up, Ivy. You showing up at my family’s house ruined everything. You’ve done enough."

She walked toward him, her eyes never leaving his. "I didn’t mean for things to go like that, Harry. I was just trying to—"

"To what?" Harry cut her off, his voice rising. "Make things worse? Because congratulations, you succeeded. Y/N left because of you. Because of us. And now you’re standing here like none of that matters."

Ivy’s face hardened, but there was a flicker of something behind her eyes—something Harry didn’t want to acknowledge. She stepped closer, her voice softening. "It matters, Harry. But you can’t blame all of this on me."

Harry stared at her, incredulous. "I’m not blaming you for everything. But you knew what would happen. You knew how Y/N would react, and you still—" He stopped himself, shaking his head again. "Forget it. I don’t have time for this."

He turned away, heading for the door, but Ivy’s voice stopped him cold.

"Do you really think she’s coming back, Harry?" Ivy asked, her voice low. "After everything? Do you really think she’ll forgive you?"

Harry froze, the question hanging in the air like a cruel reminder of his own doubts. He didn’t respond, just clenched his fists tighter, willing himself not to give in to the emotions clawing at his chest.

"You should think about that," Ivy said softly. "Before you waste any more time chasing someone who doesn’t want to be found."

Harry’s grip on the door handle tightened, his knuckles white with the effort of holding back his frustration. He turned slowly, his jaw clenched. "Leave me alone, Ivy. I don’t want anything to do with you anymore. You’ve done enough damage."

Ivy’s face didn’t falter, but he saw something flicker in her eyes—surprise, maybe, or the realization that he wasn’t going to entertain her games this time. Still, she stayed rooted to the spot, her calm demeanor unsettling.

"I’m sick of this," Harry continued, his voice rising. "I’m sick of you. What else do you want from me? Haven’t you taken enough?"

Ivy blinked, her lips parting as if searching for the right words. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, almost vulnerable. "I just want things to go back to how they used to be, Harry. You and me…"

Harry let out a harsh, bitter laugh. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he stared at her like she was a stranger. "You’re insane," he muttered. "You really think we can just go back? Like nothing happened?"

Ivy stepped toward him, but he held up a hand, stopping her in her tracks. "You don’t get it, do you?" he spat. "I’m not some horny high school kid after you anymore. I’m not interested in playing your twisted little games. You need to grow the fuck up."

The words hit her hard. He could see it in the way her eyes darkened, the way her lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, she looked as though she might lash out, but then her expression shifted into something colder, more calculating.

"You really think you’re better than me, don’t you?" Ivy said, her voice sharp. "Like you haven’t made your own mess. Like you’re not the reason Y/N left."

Harry took a step forward, his eyes blazing. "I might’ve screwed up," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "but at least I’m trying to fix it. You? You just keep showing up, tearing everything apart."

Ivy opened her mouth to respond, but Harry was done. He turned his back on her, his hand already on the doorknob. "Get out! And don’t come back."

Ivy threw her head back and laughed, a sound that grated on Harry’s nerves. There was something unsettling in the way she carried herself, like she had just won a battle and was now reveling in the aftermath. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted in her, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

"Harry," she said, her tone playful, almost mocking. "You can fight it all you want, but sooner or later, you will be mine. Before you know it, I’ll be the only person you can count on."

Her words sent a chill down his spine. It felt like a threat wrapped in a promise, and Harry couldn’t help but stare at her, trying to decipher the sudden spark in her eyes. Was she serious? Was this some sort of game to her?

Without waiting for a response, Ivy picked up her bag, swinging it over her shoulder with an ease that made it seem like their earlier exchange had never happened. She turned to him, her expression brightening as if they were the best of friends. “See you around, Harry!” she said, waving her hand in an exaggerated goodbye, a big smile plastered on her face.

The casualness of it all made Harry’s skin crawl. It felt wrong, like the ending of a bad horror film where the villain smiled just before disappearing into the shadows. He remained rooted to the spot, his heart racing, a mixture of anger and unease boiling within him.

As she walked toward the door, he felt a flicker of doubt. Would she really do something crazy? Would she go to any lengths to get what she wanted? The thought was unsettling, but deep down, he convinced himself that she was all talk, that she wouldn’t actually cross any lines.

Once the door clicked shut behind her, Harry leaned against the wall, his breath coming out in ragged bursts. The room felt heavier, suffocating in its emptiness. He had half a mind to call Y/N again, but the weight of his own mistakes kept him rooted in place.

The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and Harry pushed his chair back with a soft scrape against the floor. He gathered his things, his mind still buzzing with the lecture. As he stepped out into the brisk January air, he took a moment to breathe in the sharp scent of frost and the distant chatter of students bustling across campus, their breath visible in the cold.

As he walked, lost in thought, something caught his eye. Across the quad, he spotted Y/N. She was bundled up in a large, oversized jacket that seemed to swallow her whole, her cheeks rosy from the biting cold. A light pink beanie perched on her head, slightly askew, adding a cozy charm to her winter attire. He couldn't help but smile at the sight.

She was just slipping on her gloves, her fingers fumbling slightly against the chill. Harry noticed how her nose was a delicate shade of red from the cold, and for a brief moment, all the noise around him faded away. It was just her—his heart skipped a beat.

As if sensing his gaze, Y/N looked up, her eyes meeting his. For a split second, time seemed to freeze. The bustling students around them faded into the background, and Harry felt a rush of emotions flood through him—nostalgia, warmth, and a flicker of hope.

She froze for a moment, wide-eyed, and then turned on her heel, walking briskly in the opposite direction. Harry's heart sank.

“Y/N!” he called out, desperation creeping into his voice.

She didn’t look back, her pace quickening. Harry could see her shoulders tense, the way she pulled her jacket tighter around herself, as if trying to shield against more than just the cold. The sight of her walking away made something twist painfully in his chest.

“Please, wait!” he pleaded, but she didn’t stop. The distance between them grew, and he could feel the weight of everything unspoken hanging heavily in the air.

Y/N felt a wave of emotions crashing over her—fear, sadness, anger. She wanted to cry, to scream, but she pushed those feelings down. She couldn’t face him, not now. Not after everything that had happened.

As she walked away, she fought back the tears threatening to spill over. The last thing she wanted was for Harry to see her like this.