The Beacon [h.s]

13

Harry Styles

I've been blankly staring at the ceiling for the past thirty minutes.

I woke up half an hour ago from what was supposed to be a short nap but turned into nine hours of sleep. The coke definitely took part in allowing me to sleep for such a long period of time with no abrupt awakenings. I certainly needed the sleep, only having got a couple hours last night since Niall was over and we stayed up late.

The dehydration has been annoying me since the second I woke up, my throat being extremely scratchy and my tongue dry. I couldn't find the energy to actually go downstairs and get some water yet, so I decided to give myself time, laying here, completely still.

But I couldn't ignore it for any longer, groaning as I force myself to stop staring off into space and get out of bed. I throw my legs over the edge of my bed holding myself up with my two hands gripping the comforter, the clock on my nightstand reading one am.

With a quick stretch, I stand on my wobbly feet, having to balance myself before slowly making my way towards my door again. Running my fingers through my messy hair I unlock my door and walk out. After re-locking my door I trudge down the hall towards the stairs.

Making sure I hold onto the railing, my feet drag down the staircase while I keep my eyes down on each step so I don't fall on my ass. I successfully make it down without tripping, finally looking up and around the usual empty-

But when I look around what I expected to be the empty living room, my eyes stop in the middle of the room.

Nyla?

I had completely forgotten she was even here.

She's sitting on the couch that's in front of the TV. Her knees tucked against her chest, arms crossed against her chest and her bent legs lean against the arm of the couch. Pieces of her dark hair fall against her face from her head's tilted position. Her body positioned like she didn't mean to fall asleep here.

She's still dressed in the way I last saw her, the only difference being her shoes that are taken off and placed neatly next to the coffee table. I don't understand why she didn't just go upstairs and sleep in her room like a normal person would. She's so fucking weird.

My eyes roll at her sleeping state and I let out a breath, walking over to the kitchen, my whole body feeling like I've been hit by a truck. From the head ache, neck cramps, and hangover this morning, to dealing with Nyla, to driving myself mad over people I killed, to snorting a line of coke, has got my entire body drained even with the nine hours I was knocked out.

Opening the fridge I grab a water bottle and quickly chug it down. The more I gulp it down the more my dehydration is noticeable. I grab another, one not being enough to quench my thirst, chugging the second one down as well. I finish both, taking deep breaths after.

My back rests against the counter, letting out a deep breath as I try to think about what to do now. I can't go back to sleep, knowing I already slept for far too long. And I don't want to spend even more time in my miserable room.

I shove my hands in the pockets of my black jeans only to feel the pack of cigarettes and lighter I never took out. This will have to do I guess.

My feet take me back to the living room, passing the stairs to go toward the balcony doors. I don't look over at Nyla, assuming she's just gonna sleep there all night.

I pull the double doors leaving them wide open as I walk out to the concrete of the balcony. I come out here a lot, mostly during nights like these when I can't sleep. I walk to the very edge of the rectangular shaped balcony which has a metal railing going around the entirety of it.