labyrinth Δ harry styles

Door Forty-Five: Out of Body

"JUST ACT NORMAL."

These were the words that have been spinning on an imaginary broken record in his head. Color as dark as an abyss, the record continued its infinite loop. Etched in the plastic grooves were the words marked as they skipped over and over and over and over again.

Harry looked over the edge of the railings of the tall building, watching the sun rise over the city beneath him. It had been a long time since he had been up this early. Ever since he met Indira, he found it harder and harder to keep away from her in the morning. Because of his early morning nature, he would always awaken at the earliest moment of the day, but instead of leaving, he would take pleasure in laying beside her. He didn't mind waiting until she had awoken, in fact, it would always make his mornings easier. It wasn't often that she would sleep over—not as often as he'd like—but when she did it would always put him at a good piece of mind.

Harry thought back to Indira and the moment he left her side. He had woken up clutching her and face dug deep in her hair. She was deep in a heavy sleep aided with a full tank of fused liquor. One of her arms were up around her hair and the other was around her middle. She hadn't moved when he released her, even as he pull the sheets up more to tuck her in. Thankful he was that she hadn't stirred, worried that when she awoke anxiety ridden questions would ensue.

Harry looked down at his mug in it's half empty state and stared at the dark reflection of himself. Barely a reflection it was, and more of a shadow with nothing but his eyes barely visible.

Unrecognizable.

The black coffee was bitter against his tongue as he took a sip. The lack of flavor burst some life into him seeing that Harry hadn't had much sleep. He could sense the droop in his eyes as he tried to keep away. As much as he wanted to sleep, he knew he couldn't slip past a moment of unconsciousness.

His head flicked back over his shoulder when he thought he heard the sound of the door opening, but he relaxed when it was just the high wind whistling through the air around him. At first, he had hoped it was Indira, but ad the thought processed more he was glad she didn't. He didn't want her to see him out here again. It's been weeks since he's stepped out this early in the morning.

That's how he knew something was wrong.

Harry failed to understand why he was feeling like this again. There was so much negativity pooling around him and he could feel it weighing him down like an anchor. So much had been going on in the last couple of days, and almost weeks even. He had pushed the communication with his family again. He wanted to do it more for Indira than himself and Harry knew that how sour that idea could turn. The turnout had a good result, with his mother, Anne, and his sister, Gemma, still wanting to be by his side. He knew he had shut them out. He knew knew it and he hated it. But Harry was tired of hating himself.

Harry was tired. Physically. Emotionally. It drained him and every part that made Indira love him. He couldn't shut out that feeling. It sent shivers down his spine and made the coffee taste repugnant. As he looked down at the reflection of the dark liquid, he could feel how selfish he was getting. He wanted her to be awake right now, but knowing how much she had to drink the night before, she needed the rest. He wanted nothing more than to be comforted by the sound of her voice, the warmth that it carried and everything else in between.

His hand pulled back at the strands resting in front of his face from the high breeze.

He took another long deep breath, barely admiring the orange and purple hues of the sunrise before him. Before he knew it, one hand was reaching for the phone in the pocket of his joggers. His thumb found its way to the favorites section of his contacts and immediately dialed the number. In fact, this was probably the perfect time to reach out especially due to the timezones. The trill of the phone rang and rang until it hit the machine at the end.