Matching Rings [h.s]

69

TW: graphic content / description of gore

POV: BAYLIN GRIGGS

It's Sunday morning. I went to bed early last night after spending most the day pondering and regretting my yesterday's choices. But again, I didn't get any sleep.

After Liam left, Niall and I spent hours watching movies and doing nothing— he thought it would help me stop thinking about everything but it certainly didn't do anything at all. My brain started relating the characters in the movies to my own life, which only made matters worse in my head.

Then I just couldn't sleep all night, my brain was too busy doing laps around how shitty I was for kissing Liam and running about everything with Harry.

I haven't talked to Liam since he left after our kiss. He texted me to tell me that he got home safe and that's about it— I didn't even answer him back because I didn't want him to start a conversation.

But I know I'm going to have to see him sometime soon, he still is my best friend after all. And he left his backpack here, so I'll need to return it to him.

And frankly I'm still too scared to reach out to Harry— I'm still on board with my 'let the universe decide when I'll talk to him' idea, but part of me wants to rush the process.

Once I heard the sound of Niall leaving his room, I mentally complain that I had lost yet another night of sleep.

I tried to fall asleep for a little while longer, ignoring the sounds of Niall rummaging in the kitchen, clinking pans or turning on the faucet. When I finally turn to look at the clock, I force myself to get up since it's already nine in the morning.

I start getting ready for the day because I refuse to let myself feel miserable like I did yesterday, I'll just need to fight off the exhaustion. I deserve to have a normal day without the regret of yesterday following me like a lost duckling.

I walk into my closet to get dressed, seeing my balled up bikini in a pile on the floor— I cringe at the reminder of what went down in the hot tub. I pick it up and toss it in the dirty hamper, then continuing inside to find something to wear.

As I search through the clothes I have hung up, I pass many of the hoodies and shirts I had stollen from Harry. I have so many, I never noticed how many I really had taken from him. I pass over each one and try to find something that isn't his, because wearing Harry's clothes would kind of defeat the whole purpose of trying forgetting about him. I feel my eyes begin to tear up at the lingering smell of Harry's clothes, the annoying emotion building up very quick but I'm even quicker to bury them back again.

I settle with a short classic black tank top, under a greenish zip up that is thankfully mine and not Harry's, and some wide legged yoga pants— I don't plan on going anywhere so I don't need to look anything past decent.

I'm in the bathroom for only a couple minutes, washing my face and brushing my teeth— all the basic things to make myself look a little more lively. Waiting for me when I finally got downstairs was Niall, he was sat on the couch and continuing to watch one of the movies he had fallen asleep on last night. He turns back when he notices me walk into the living room.

"Good morning." I speak low, my voice feeling raw for some reason.

"Hey," He greets me, pausing the TV and standing up. "There's breakfast for you in the kitchen, if you're hungry."

I only nod and walk past the couch, making my wide steps to the kitchen while Niall follows behind me.

"You feeling any better? All yesterday you were a bit out of it."