Crave — final part (Patreon)

Author's notes: Hello everyone, I hope you are all doing well! Thank you so much for the inmense support that I've gotten over the last few days. I hope you are liking all the writing and all the stories. Let me know what you would like to read next! 

Y/N tried to go through her classes like normal, immersing herself in her work and in the day-to-day rush of campus life. But every time she caught a glimpse of Harry—or even thought she saw him in the distance—her heart would skip, and she’d immediately turn the other way. She’d been so convinced, for that brief, reckless moment, that what they shared had meant more. The memory of his touch, his warmth, lingered like a shadow, making it impossible to forget.

It was humiliating to think she’d allowed herself to believe that they could be more than just professor and student, that he might have seen her as more than a momentary slip, a mistake. She kept her head down in class, choosing a seat at the far back and barely looking up as he lectured, determined to keep her emotions hidden. She felt embarrassed, not just by what had happened but by her own feelings—by the fact that she wanted him, that she had let herself hope for something impossible.

And every time she thought of him, she couldn’t help but feel the sting of his final words. It had meant something to him, he’d said, but the line he’d drawn between them now felt unbreakable, as though he was warning her to let go.

It was a cold, gray Thursday afternoon, and Y/N was buried in her notebook, lost in an attempt to stay ahead of her assignments and keep her mind occupied. She’d almost forgotten the bitter cold creeping through the air when Liv’s voice pulled her back to reality, accompanied by the rush of footsteps closing in.

“Y/N!” Liv called, breathless and flushed from running across campus. She skidded to a stop beside her, panting heavily, eyes wide with a mix of excitement and disbelief. “Oh my god, have you heard the news?”

Y/N blinked, taken aback by her friend’s urgency. “What are you talking about?”

Liv caught her breath, leaning forward with hands on her knees for a moment before standing up straight. “Professor Styles. He… he quit,” she managed, watching Y/N’s reaction closely. “Apparently, he’s leaving before the semester ends. Right now, he’s packing up his office.”

Y/N felt a strange, hollow sensation bloom in her chest as Liv’s words settled in. The world around her felt like it had tilted slightly, leaving her off-balance. He was leaving.

The words echoed in her mind, a relentless hum that drowned out everything else. He was leaving. She tried to keep her face neutral, but a spark of panic clawed its way through her chest, tightening with each passing second.

“Are you sure?” Y/N finally asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Liv nodded, looking at her with a sympathetic frown. “Yeah, I heard some of the other students talking about it, and then I saw him through his office window. He looked… busy, like he was packing up everything.” She placed a hand on Y/N’s arm. “I know he was your favorite professor. This sucks.”

Y/N could only nod, the hollow ache in her chest deepening. Her feet felt like lead, rooting her to the spot as she struggled to absorb what Liv had said. She couldn’t process it—couldn’t believe he’d actually leave. A surge of helplessness filled her as she thought of all the times she’d tried to catch his gaze, to at least get some closure or understand what he felt, only to be met with a carefully blank expression, a polite distance that seemed to stretch further each day.

“I—I have to go,” Y/N murmured, more to herself than to Liv.

Liv’s brows shot up, surprise flickering across her face, but she didn’t question it. She simply nodded. “Go on. If you need anything… let me know, okay?”

With a final, encouraging squeeze on her arm, Liv stepped back, letting Y/N make her way across campus. Each step felt heavier than the last as she neared his office, the cool air biting at her cheeks. Her mind raced with a thousand unspoken questions, a litany of what-ifs that hung in the air between them. She knew this was her only chance—if she didn’t go to him now, she’d regret it forever.

Finally, she reached his office door, slightly ajar, a glimpse of his familiar workspace now littered with boxes and the remnants of what had once made it feel like his space. Harry was there, moving through the small room in focused silence, packing books into a box with a quiet efficiency. He looked… different, a heaviness in his movements that seemed foreign, unnatural.

Y/N knocked softly on the doorframe, the sound barely audible over the hum of the building. He turned, surprised, his eyes meeting hers for the first time in what felt like an eternity. For a brief second, something flashed in his gaze—a mixture of regret, longing, maybe even pain—but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his familiar guarded expression.

“Y/N,” he greeted her, his voice calm but distant. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Y/N swallowed, her throat tight, every ounce of practiced composure unraveling as she stepped into his office. The space looked so foreign with the bare shelves, the emptied drawers, and the half-packed boxes scattered around. She was used to seeing his things carefully arranged, to the quiet warmth that lingered here despite his restrained demeanor. Now, it felt as if the life had been drained from it—like he was erasing himself.

“I just heard… that you’re leaving,” she managed, forcing the words out, though they sounded more vulnerable than she intended.

Harry nodded, his gaze dropping as he placed another book into a box, carefully avoiding her eyes. “Yes, I am. An opportunity came up, and it felt like the right time.” His tone was detached, businesslike, but she could hear the faint edge of something deeper beneath it.

She stepped closer, barely able to keep her voice steady. “You’re leaving before the semester ends…?” She couldn’t keep the ache from her words, and it lingered between them, heavy and unspoken.

His hands paused over the book he was holding, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. For a long moment, he seemed to be fighting with himself, and then he looked up at her, his eyes darker and more intense than she’d ever seen. “It’s for the best,” he replied softly, the words sounding as though he were trying to convince himself as much as her.

The weight of that simple statement settled over her like a stone, and she felt her chest tighten, a mixture of anger and hurt swirling within her. “Is that all?” she whispered, the vulnerability slipping through her voice despite herself. “Just… leaving, what about me?”

His gaze held hers, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Y/N, don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he said quietly, almost pleading, though his expression remained controlled. But there was something there—a shadow of the connection they’d shared, the way he had looked at her that night, the way he had held her as though he’d never wanted to let go.

She took a shaky breath, not breaking his gaze. “It meant something to me,” she admitted, the words barely louder than a whisper. She didn’t know if it was foolish or brave to say it, but she couldn’t leave without him knowing. “I thought it did for you, too.”

Harry’s eyes softened, and for a moment, the carefully controlled mask he always wore slipped away, revealing the hint of vulnerability beneath. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, looking almost… defeated.

“It did mean something, Y/N,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, as if admitting it to himself as much as to her. “That’s why I’m leaving. I can’t stay here and pretend it didn’t happen, that it didn’t change… everything.” He swallowed, his gaze fixed on hers, searching her face as if hoping she would understand.

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as she took in his words. She wanted to argue, to tell him there had to be another way. But the look in his eyes stopped her—filled with regret, with longing, but also with a kind of painful resolve.

“You… you don’t have to leave,” she murmured, the words slipping out, even though she knew the answer. “We could just… figure it out.”

He shook his head slowly, a faint, sad smile tugging at his lips. “You and I both know it’s not that simple. I’d only be putting you in a more difficult position. I’ve already crossed lines I shouldn’t have.” His voice was steady, but there was a tightness in it, an undertone of guilt that twisted the knife even deeper.

Y/N felt a hot surge of frustration and sadness. This wasn’t how she’d imagined things would end—she hadn’t imagined an end at all.

The silence between them thickened, filled with everything they weren’t saying. Y/N’s heart twisted painfully as she stood there, feeling like she was losing something she hadn’t even realized she needed so desperately.

“You’re just going to walk away?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly despite her best efforts to hold it together. She took a step closer, unable to help herself. “After everything, you’re going to leave me here like this, wondering if it was all in my head?”

Harry’s expression softened, his gaze flickering to the floor before returning to hers. “I’m leaving because it wasn’t in your head, Y/N. Because it was real, and if I stay…” He trailed off, as if struggling to find the right words. “If I stay, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep myself from wanting more. And that isn’t fair to you.”

She bit her lip, swallowing down the ache swelling in her throat. “Maybe that’s not your decision to make,” she whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. “Maybe I want more, too.”

A flicker of something—hope, perhaps—crossed his face before he clenched his jaw, the struggle evident in his expression. “I know you think that now,” he replied, his voice gentler, but still edged with finality. “But one day, you’ll understand why I’m doing this. And you’ll thank me for it.”

Y/N shook her head, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I don’t think I will.”

Harry looked at her, his own eyes bright with something he was trying hard to hold back. He stepped closer, his hand hovering just inches from her cheek as if he wanted to touch her, to hold her one last time, but couldn’t bring himself to break that final boundary. Instead, he let his hand fall back to his side, his voice barely a murmur as he spoke.

“For what it’s worth… you’ve made it impossible to leave without regret,” he said, his voice heavy. “But I don’t know how to stay without hurting you more.”

And with that, he turned, his steps slow and reluctant as he moved back toward his desk, leaving Y/N standing there, her heart splintering into pieces she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to gather again.

The next day, Y/N found herself numb as she walked through the empty campus, feeling the dull ache of Harry’s absence more intensely than she’d expected. She told herself it was better this way, that the clean break would hurt less in the long run. But as she neared his office one last time, something inside her wavered, and she found herself reaching for the door, her fingers brushing the handle before she pushed it open.

The room was bare, the shelves emptied, and his desk cleared, except for a single envelope resting in the center, her name written across it in his careful handwriting.

Her heart pounded as she reached for it, her hands trembling slightly as she unfolded the note.

Y/N,

I find it strange, writing this to you when I could have said it out loud, but some things are easier to say when you don’t have to watch the person they’re meant for look back at you.

Leaving wasn’t a choice I wanted to make, but it’s the only one that feels right. You deserve someone who can give you every part of themselves without restraint, who isn’t haunted by lines they’ve crossed or rules they’ve broken. I may have been reckless, but please don’t mistake that for regret. Knowing you, being close to you… those are the moments that will stay with me. They’ve already become memories I hold close, though I had no right to make them with you.

You are fiercely intelligent, maddeningly captivating, and you possess a lightness that I never meant to shadow. It’s not goodbye, because a connection like ours doesn’t disappear. I’ll carry you with me, as a quiet ache and an unforgettable truth.

Take care of yourself, Y/N. You are remarkable.

—Harry

As she read his words, her heart twisted. They captured everything he hadn’t said, and everything she had wanted to believe in.

Y/N read the letter over and over, her heart twisting with each line, his carefully chosen words both a balm and a wound. She could picture him sitting at that very desk, pen in hand, struggling over each sentence, the way he always did when something mattered to him.

The ache he left behind wasn’t just from his absence—it was from knowing he felt as deeply as she did, yet still chose to walk away. She slipped the note back into the envelope and held it tightly as she walked back to her dorm, trying to ignore the quiet hope that told her this couldn’t be the end.

The following days were filled with a strange emptiness. She went to class, pretended to listen, and tried to focus on her studies. But her thoughts kept circling back to him, to the mornings she’d glance at the door, half-expecting him to walk in with his usual calm and a quiet look in her direction. His absence felt like a physical space, one she kept accidentally stumbling into.

One chilly afternoon, as she sat by the library window with her textbooks, she caught sight of his office door across the courtyard. Her heart squeezed at the sight, knowing it was someone else’s now, that his papers, his books, his scent were all gone. She thought about going in, just once more, but she couldn’t bring herself to face that emptiness.

But just as she turned back to her books, she noticed a familiar figure walking across the courtyard. Her heart nearly stopped—it was him.

Y/N’s heart stuttered as she watched Harry stride across the courtyard, hands in the pockets of his coat, head down as if deep in thought. It was surreal, seeing him so suddenly when she’d nearly convinced herself she’d never see him again.

Without another thought, she gathered her things and hurried outside, her pulse racing as she tried to catch up. She called his name, her voice barely above a whisper at first, but loud enough to reach him in the quiet of the late afternoon. He slowed, pausing, then turned to see her approaching. His eyes softened as they landed on her, but there was a guardedness to his expression, a hesitation that tugged at her heart.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice carrying a mix of surprise and something else she couldn’t quite place. He looked as if he’d been bracing himself for this moment, yet it still seemed to catch him off-guard.

For a moment, they just stood there, an unspoken tension weaving between them. She took a steadying breath, trying to gather her thoughts, but everything she’d rehearsed melted away now that he was in front of her.

“Why did you come back?” she asked finally, her voice barely a murmur, as if saying it louder would make him disappear.

Harry looked down, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Loose ends,” he said, almost to himself, before meeting her gaze again. “There were things I hadn’t finished… or things I thought I could leave behind.”

She swallowed, a spark of hope stirring within her, but she kept her expression steady. “Like what?”

He glanced around, as if searching for the right words. “Like you,” he admitted quietly. His gaze was intense, fixed on hers, and in that moment, she felt every unsaid thing between them ripple to the surface, like a wave threatening to pull her under.

A shiver ran down her spine at his words, but she held herself still, her heart pounding wildly. “Then why did you leave?” she whispered, unable to keep the ache from her voice.

Harry exhaled, his gaze dropping to the ground. “Because I thought it was the right thing to do,” he said, his voice strained. “But sometimes isn’t about doing what is right, but what feels right.” He stepped closer, just enough for her to feel the warmth radiating from him, his gaze searching hers. “Should we try again?”

Y/N’s breath hitched, a flicker of disbelief mixed with the hope that had refused to fade. Without a word, she nodded, feeling that if she spoke, the spell would break. And for a moment, they just stood there, the world quiet around them, holding onto the fragile hope they’d both found their way back to.

Harry stepped closer, the intensity of his gaze sweeping over her, as if he were drinking in every detail—the curve of her smile, the way her eyes sparkled with uncertainty yet hope. “I’ve never wanted anything more,” he admitted, his voice steadying, grounding her in the chaos of emotions swirling between them.

She took a hesitant step forward, her heart racing as he mirrored her movement. The air around them thickened with a familiar tension, the kind they had danced around for so long.

“Then show me,” she challenged, a teasing lilt creeping into her voice, emboldened by the depth of what they both knew they wanted. “Show me that you’re serious about this.”

With a grin that sent shivers down her spine, Harry closed the gap between them, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered, grazing her skin, and she felt a jolt of electricity pass through her.

“Here?” he asked, his voice low and husky, eyes darkening with desire. “Or somewhere more… private?”

“Somewhere more private,” she whispered, heart racing, anticipation dancing on the edge of her thoughts.

With a shared glance that spoke volumes, they turned and walked away from the familiar, hand in hand, stepping into a world that felt both new and achingly familiar. The campus faded behind them, replaced by the promise of uncharted territory—together, this time, no walls between them.

As they disappeared around the corner, the sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting a warm golden hue over the campus, as if the world itself was blessing their fresh start, a vibrant reminder that sometimes, love is worth the leap into the unknown.