antidote | h.s.

20 - icu

harry styles

There's something sobering about the morning after a party. 

Other than the obvious, of course. But when you don't drink, for some reason the morning after effect is even more intense. 

I truly can't believe the conversation Ashton and I had. The fact that we were both so open, throwing caution to the wind. I haven't spoken my feelings in so long, and I always thought I never would again. Before, it wasn't worth it, in my eyes. But Ashton is worth it. And to my surprise, she thought I was too. She told me how she feels, and it felt so fucking good to hear it. 

I felt like I was on a high all night. I didn't know what to do with myself, and all I wanted was to be around her. I knew it was a party, and that I probably should have been mingling, but the only person I wanted to talk to had her hand in mine, and her leg smushed against mine on the couch as we made fun of the drunk people around us. 

It feels so weird to look at it from the other end now. Seeing the night as a memory rather than a present experience, and seeing how truly lucky I am that she chose to spend her night with me, especially after I fucking up like I did. 

Also hearing her deny me so many times broke my heart. Denying my feelings, more like. As if she didn't believe it when I was telling her the truth, and I don't know who in the past has lied to her to make her so untrusting, but I'm feeling extremely violent about it, so I hope for their sake that I never meet them. 

I ended up walking Ashton to her car after a while, giving her an extremely elongated hug, silently begging for her to just choose to stay forever. I was scared the second we left the atmosphere of the party, she'd regret everything and go back to ignoring me. 

I made her promise to text me when she got home, which she did. I stopped myself from asking her to hang out with me today, like a lovesick, clingy fucking puppy. I don't really know why I didn't. 

I can't now, right?

I mean, it's only, like, 8:30 in the morning. 

A text for her to wake up to won't hurt, right?

I reach over to my bedside table where my phone charged overnight, opening it up and hovering my thumb over her name on our text thread. 

Well what the fuck do I say?

"good morning, beautiful"?

Definitely not.

"I hope you slept well"?

Literally what the fuck, Harry?

Oh fuck it. 

Before I know it, I'm pressing my thumb down onto the phone on the screen and moving the phone up to my ear, immediately cursing myself in a whisper to absolutely no one. 

"FUCK! I was gonna text!"

The ringing starts before I can even think to regret my stupidity, and my heart is already beating ten times as fast while I wait. 

It's only two more rings before the line picks up, and her voice comes through a lot more awake than I was expecting. 

"Hello?"

"Hi," I say sheepishly, suddenly way too shy to be doing this. I'm terrified she's going to regret everything, "I'm surprised you're awake."

"Oh, well I just woke up,"  she says with a small yawn that I can tell she tried to hide. 

"Fuck, did I wake you? I'm really sorry," I begin to apologize, feeling so fucking dumb over this whole idea. 

"No, no, you're fine. I'm always happy to wake up and talk to you," she assures me, and if the butterfly fucking sanctuary in my stomach could chill the fuck out so I can focus, it would be really great.