Infatuated (hsau)

chapter 64.

°°
I wanna make it my business
I wanna tolerate drunk you, honey
I wanna make it my problem
°°

Harlow Dean

Dead.

How I feel after last night, dead.

It took me a while to find my bearings and realise I'm actually at Harry's house, in his bed, in his clothes yet he isn't here next to me. There's a glass of water on the bedside table so hopefully that means he didn't fully abandon me.

Then again I don't see why he'd abandon me in his own house.

I don't even want to know what I was drinking last night because fucking hell I feel like a living corpse. I drank that glass of water quicker than Harry can form a smirk and still that wasn't enough to rid me of the dry, sandpaper-like feeling inside my mouth. So I got up from the bed and decided to wander downstairs for water, and in the hopes I'd find Harry too.

But I didn't. Harry is nowhere to be seen, although his car is still here.

Christ, it's 11am? My grandmother would kill me if she saw how late I've just slept in.

Now I'm remembering the reason I got drunk, because my cats dead. Probably could've used a better coping mechanism but I suppose coping unhealthily is what I'm notorious for. My hands hurt so much and so does my head so maybe it's time to stop with the unhealthy coping mechanisms because I do not have the same drinking tolerance as I did when I was 19.

Another thing I'm really kicking myself for is whispering that I loved Harry in French. I'm surprised he didn't know what it meant but I'm glad, because I just don't think he would say it back and mean it. I feel like he does so much comforting me that him saying it would just be him trying to reassure me and I want him to mean it but whether we actually get to that stage or not I don't even know.

I also can't fucking believe I told him I have a reasons journal. He probably thinks I'm fucking insane now.

Never touching alcohol ever again.

Harry has a piano, I always forget that, until he played me Daydream Believer that is. It's really pretty, missing a few musical books on the stand but I don't suoppose there's need if he can't read sheet music. He also has four different guitars leaning against his wall next to his record player which is cool. Our houses are white the opposite but Harry's is really nice, it definitely has character.

Before I knew it I was sitting down at his piano and my fingers were pressing the keys in the tune of Daydream Believer with just one hand.

Although before I could get too far the round of a car pulling up outside began to echo in my ears and immediately, for some reason I panicked. Cautiously I asked over to his front window to see who was outside, only to be met with the sight of Harry pulling up in my car.

Did he really go and get my car from the club?

Clearly he didn't expect me to be awake when he walked in, because when he saw I was standing in his kitchen he jumped about three feet in the air.

"Fucking hell birdy, I almost just died." He exclaims, clutching his heart with one hand whilst the other stays behind his back.

I probably shouldn't laugh, but I can't help it.

Harry awkwardly shuffled in with his back to the wall and tried to compose himself again. He's being strange, it's worrying me. Clearing his throat, Harry stepped forward and planted a kiss on my forehead.

"I picked up your car for you and I erm..." he pauses, awkwardly shuffling his feet, "I got you some flowers from that flower shop and she said these are the same that you got yesterday morning and I got them because your ones are destroyed so...yeah if you don't like them it's fine."