Yellow || hs au

| 77 |

—

Harry

I lay silently on the side of the bed that never belonged to just me. It feels foreign laying on the opposite side, using her pillow as if it's mine. It smells like her. Laying here, staring at my ceiling fan, like I've done many times before, feels wrong. Without her next to me, it doesn't feel right. The amount of times I laid awake through the night with Clovers body shoved into the side of mine is near infinity. But when she was with me, it wasn't so lonely.

   And now. . .

   The ceiling fan rotates slowly in the same circular motion over and over again. My heavy and tired eyes follow it's repetitive movements, and it's beginning to feel like it's reflecting my life back at me. Like it's taunting me with all of the mistakes I've made over and over again the last couple of months. It's reminding me just how fucked up I really am, like I had always known. But I forgot for awhile, I thought maybe I could be better. For her. I tried so hard to be better.

   I push myself to sit up from my laying position, my shoulders slouching forward as my head pounds with an awful headache. My bedroom is dark, like the rest of my apartment. I'm unsure of the time, I have been all week because it seems pointless to know. Everything around me feels pointless, like they have no purpose anymore. Time doesn't matter because there is no where for me to go, and no matter how hard I wish for it to stop. It just keeps going.

My movements are slow and careless as I allow my legs to swing over the edge of my bed, my eyes fluttering closed at the cool hardwood floor coming in contact with my bare feet. The change of temperature feels good, cooling my warm body down. I'm used to having the heat on here because Clover likes it warm when she sleeps. So I keep it on for her.

   I keep a small opening in the curtains because I remember one time Clover had told me she liked to wake up to a sliver of sunlight in the morning. Although I hate being woken up by the sun, I learned to tolerate it for her. And when she would wake up for the day, she would close the curtains back up for me before she left. She always knew I preferred to wake up on my own if possible.

   I swallow hard, pinching my eyes closed before I tear them open and push myself to stand from my bed. Sleep doesn't come easy like it did with her. When I could lay peacefully, feeling her trace my skin with her fingers, knowing that when I wake up the next morning, she would still be there. She would still be mine and still love me. She's not here and she's not mine. I still love her, but that's not enough for sleep to come.

   I need her to love me.

   My footsteps are heavy and exhausted as I slowly leave my bedroom, the end of the long hallway is illuminated with the singular light left on in my kitchen. I breathe in slowly as I take short and lazy strides towards into my living room. I retrieve the last cigarette from the package left on my coffee table, a sigh escaping my lips as I grasp the white lighter before venturing out onto my balcony.

The sky is dark and littered with stars, the moon is full and shines brightly down at me over the tall buildings. The smoke of my cigarette swirls around in front of me as the taste of tobacco fills my cheeks, the nicotine easing the pain of my headache as I hold the smoke in my chest. I sigh it out, leaning my forearms against the cold metal railing, my gaze unfocused and lost.

I hold the cigarette loosely between my lips as I force my attention onto the sky. The bright stars stare down at me, I gut wrenching feeling pours into my stomach and chest as thick tears begin to blur my vision, my nostrils burning as my jaw clenches. The air is cold as October progresses slowly, the leaves beginning to change as the days comes to an end faster.