Eucalyptus & Honey |H.S.|

Chapter 26 - As I Open My Eyes

It was Anne's birthday.

Harry invited me over tonight for dinner, along with the band and a few others to celebrate. I was supposed to be there in an hour, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous.

I wasn't sure what made me so nervous considering I had already met them all before, but for some reason, hanging out in a large social setting like that seemed so different.

I hadn't seen Harry since he left yesterday morning, but he'd texted me late last night, and we'd been talking since. Except for when we were sleeping.

His message sort of worried me, though, and I wasn't actually sure whether he slept or not. It had began with him simply telling me he missed me, and I had quickly responded to tell him I missed him too.

However, not long after, he had said, I don't deserve you, angel. Not at all.

I had fallen asleep before I saw that message, and I didn't see it until the morning. I felt fucking awful that I couldn't have reassured him before that, letting him spend the whole night thinking that he didn't deserve me. Which was complete fucking bullshit anyway. He could call me an angel all he wanted, but that didn't mean I was one.

About thirty minutes after that text, he had sent another saying, I'm sorry, angel baby. That was it. To say I had a minor panic attack when I saw that text and nothing else after it would be an understatement.

I had urgently responded as if doing so seven hours later was even remotely helpful at that point. I'd quickly typed out, What? What are you talking about, pretty, why are you sorry? And then directly after that one, I sent, You're not the only one who gets to decide whether or not you deserve me.

His quick response was what made me think he hadn't slept at all. It came no less than thirty seconds after my text, but I was also grateful because my panic immediately lessened. He'd said, Do I have to be sorry for something to say it? I'd told him that that's usually how it works, and his cheeky responses after that had also managed to significantly lessen my panic.

I was still worried about him, but it was now more of just a general worry about everything, rather than his texts specifically.

I was currently blasting "Tusk" by Fleetwood Mac and searching my closet for what I should wear tonight.

I was pulling out a shirt to examine and I nearly dropped it as the words to the song seemed to process for the first time in my brain.

Why don't you tell me what's going on?

Why don't you tell me who's on the phone?

The accuracy of the words was unsettling, and I nearly skipped the song out of the discomfort it caused me. I'd always loved this song, particularly the instrumentation, so I'd never paid a lot of attention to the lyrics. But, the fact that they seemed to be a direct mirror of my own experiences almost made me uncomfortable.

However, I could probably argue that every Fleetwood Mac song related to my life in some way. That was what made them so ceaselessly amazing.

I put the shirt back on it's hanger, pushing the startling feeling away, and continued searching for an outfit to wear. I had a feeling I would never be able to listen to the song without that unsettled feeling again, but that still wouldn't stop me from loving it.

I searched through my clothes for the next ten minutes, and I was beginning to get stressed. I hated having to rush to get ready, and hated not knowing what to wear even more. There was nothing worse than being unsure of what kind of clothes to wear to a certain event.