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something's gone terribly wrong, you're all I wanted
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TW: EMETOPHOBIA
HARRY'S POV
Every time I bring the bottle of alcohol to my lips and taste the sour drink, I enjoy it less and less.
Even though I'm trying to forget, I'm reminded of why I'm drinking in the first place with every single sip.
I don't really know why I'm trying to wash all my problems away with the drink anyway. It's not like when the sun rises tomorrow they'll be gone and all will be well with the world. I'm still going to have to face them, and they'll just be paired with a pounding headache and the overwhelming urge to throw up.
I stopped feeling a while ago. I stopped thinking a while ago. My brain's ability to simply work has been annihilated.
Staring at the stark white sheets on the side of the mattress for so long has made me start to make out the faint swirly pattern in the fabric.
Or maybe it's the alcohol.
I'm sitting in between the two beds of the hotel room, my back against one mattress and my eyes on the other. My knees are to my chest and my arms are slung lazily across them, one hand gripping the small bottle like my life depends on it.
My conversation– was it a fight? I don't want to have to call it a fight– with Brooklyn is on repeat in my head like someone recorded it and keeps playing it over and over in order to put me through the utmost form of torture.
I left because my brain was in complete overload. I couldn't take it anymore. I was confused. But then again, I wasn't. Maybe my brain was forcing itself to be confused because it didn't want to accept anything that was being said. I don't know.
That's the confusing part.
I left with no idea of where I was actually going. The second the door shut behind me and I was in the silent hallway, the tears I was holding back the entire time I was in the room with her started to fall.
I ended up in the elevator and on the roof of the hotel. I didn't even know it was accessible, but there was a button in the elevator and I figured I would try my luck. What did I have to lose?
I got up there and it was dark. And empty. And silent.
The opposite of my brain.
I just sat. I sat and stared at the dark sky, occasionally staring at the eerily still water of the massive pool that was up there too. Didn't know that was a thing either.
I didn't look at my phone. I didn't check the time.
I just completely spaced out.
And then something snapped me out of it. Maybe it was a breeze and the fact that I didn't have a jacket. I don't know. But I came back to the room.
She wasn't here.
And I have no idea where she is, and I have no way to find out because her phone is still on the bedside table charging.
Not that she would respond to me anyway.
I would understand if she didn't want to. I wouldn't respond to me either.
YOU ARE READING
Red Volkswagen || h.s.
FanfictionWestlake, South Carolina. Home to Brooklyn Callahan, the best latte maker on the east coast. Or so her mom tells her. She's lived in the mundane town with two stop lights her whole life, never needing more than the beach, her record player, and thre...