Before you go... //h.s

To be so Lonely

HARRY'S POV:

I drank too much.

The room spins in my vision slightly and for the hundredth time I wonder why. Silence elopes the fuzzy vision, only disturbed by the occasional crash of me walking into something or knocking something from it's place.

Too many empty bottles lie on my counter, the alcoholic liquid contained in them having long been drunk by me. The substance has spread through my blood, spread through each of the cells in my body until I was fully intoxicated and unable to think straight. Unable to function properly.

I'd drunk past my limit, drunk far too much. Drunk enough that I feel black spots in my vision as I stand on the spot desperately trying to stay straight but swaying as I try to focus on anything. This wasn't a fun sort of drunk, this was just the sort of drunk where you want to curl into a ball and vomit until everything contaminating you has gone, forced out of you.

Why I'd thought drinking alone in my house was a good idea, I can't for the life of me remember but when I'd started drinking, it had seemed like a good idea. And then I was drinking, I was enjoying it too much to stop; enjoying the painless, numb sensation that had spread throughout my body. And now, now I just can't remember why I wanted to drink in the first place.

But despite hating how drunk I am, I pick up my glass and swallow back another mouthful of the straight vodka. The strong scent itches up my nose as I pull the cup back, knowing it's stupid. But no-one's here to tell me to stop, to pull me back.

My rings weigh down my fingers and my butterfly tattoo that Iris loves feels like a permanent weight on my chest. Everything that Iris loves suddenly feels tainted, but I can't remember why. I can't remember why, and I can't remember why Iris isn't here.

I groan in frustration at my lack of brain function and fumble for my phone, hoping if I call her she can tell me what my alcohol plied brain is missing.

I squint around the apartment, hoping to see the light reflecting off the screen of my phone but the combination of the dim lights and my fuzzy vision lead to no success so I begin to swipe my hand over every surface, hoping to feel the cold, hard metal.

I squint my eyes as I try to focus but nothing seems to stay put, almost as though it is the room moving and I am the one standing still. But that can't be it...?

A noise of victory leaves me when I finally spot my phone and I prance over to it, tripping over the sofa leg as I go. The pain doesn't even register in my numb body as I continue dancing towards my phone, the sense of pride and elation at finding it overwhelming, I almost feel like a kid at Christmas which is stupid really when I think about it because all I did was find my phone.

But right now, that feels like a huge fucking achievement.

The phone rings, and rings again and I don't think she's going to pick up so I pout in disappointment until a faint click sounds through the speakers and Iris' beautiful British accent speaks cautiously over the line,

'Harry?' she mumbles quietly, almost nervously.

'Iris! Hi darlin',' I slur with much more enthusiasm,

'Err...Harry...I don't think...I don't know if...' she begins hesitantly.

'When are you coming to LA Iris?' I say hopefully, not at all understanding why she sounds so shy...so distant.

'Are you drunk?' her voice echoes quietly and I shake my head, then nod, then frown because I'm not sure and either way she can't see me.

'I...i...maybe, but when are you coming to LA?' I say slowly, needing to enunciate each word and finding it hard in my dizzy state.