Law and Order- complete

II

-The building that once intimidated me with it's pristine cleanliness, large paintings and long corridors now depressed me. I felt my entire mood shift the second I pushed open the doors and was met with Pricilla's wide blue eyes, excited to see me. I feel bad that I can't return the favor, but she doesn't notice anyway. Her thin shoulder length hair was pulled back with a hair comb and she quickly gestured for me to come closer.

"It's been so long," She whispers excitedly. I give her a small smile and nod. My nose twitches up at the smell of cat fur.

"I know you have your session today. But before you go. I feel like I should tell you. That Styles boy is a little off today, if you know what I'm saying. You know, between me and you, I heard him arguing with his momma, yup. Sharon was here earlier. She didn't even say why she couldn't work. She just-" Priscilla rambles but I don't hear anything she says, my mind still focused on her first words.

He's... off?

Off how?

I guess I'll figure out, I think to myself as I dismiss myself from Pricilla, who reluctantly let's me go. In all honesty, I didn't want to deal with Harry being off. I wanted him to be fine. To get this lesson over with so I could go home and crawl back into the warm comfort that is my bed. My heart skips a beat when the possibility that he's off because of the gun comes into play. I haven't heard anyone talk about it at school. But Kenneth wouldn't let me get away with that. What if Harry ends up taking the blame?

I approach the door and twist the knob to push it open, my brows furrowing at the sight in front of me. Books were scattered everywhere, the plants that stood as decoration by the door were knocked over, sending the dirt scattered across the carpet. Harry sat at the bottom of the ceiling length bookshelves adjacent to the window. He wore a pair of joggers, not dressed in his usual attire. They were wrinkled, and so was the dark grey dress shirt he wore over them. He didn't wear any shoes, however. But a quick glance to my left showed me that he had discarded of them a while ago. His head hung in his hands, palms against his forehead.

He looks up when he hears the door open, and I wince at his face. Eyes blood-shoot, the dark green color was even darker. Underneath his eyelids hung gray bags. His hair lazily hung against his head, resting on his forehead and tips of his -red- ears. He looked horrible. Probably worst than me.

"I told them to cancel you." His accent is hoarse, like he's been yelling all night. Next to him stood a bottle of Tito's. He's drunk.

I nod, keeping my feet planted and my hands on the straps of my bag, my eyes scanned the room. Dark, as usual, but this time, it felt intentional. His drags his tongue between his lips, moistening them for a split second. I can't help but think about my lips felt pressed against his. How soft they were.

"Since you're here. Come, sit." He pats the floor next to him. Drunk Harry was nothing like I'd expect him to be.

After closing the door behind me, I oblige, setting myself down slowly. I outstretch my legs, letting my back slump over. My hands fell in my lap as I released a heavy sigh. I could see why he sat on the floor. It provided a sense of grounding. I stared at the designs on the rug, the little black diamonds and swirls on the rug catching my attention.

"I think I'm going to go to prison." He states flatly, his accent protruding his words. I turn to face him, my jaw slack in the slightest at his admission. "What?"

He nods slowly, his heavy eyebrows over his disastrous eyes as he glares ahead at nothing in particular. Being so close to him, I can see the lines in his face forming around his lips as the curved into a tight frown. The sunset peaked through the dark curtains and illuminated a strip of his pants, everything else was a shadow. My eyes catch the pieces of dust floating around when he speaks again.