Starboy. {h.s au}

fifteen.

AURORA'S POV

It would be a lie to say the last few days were easy, or that I was able to pretend it didn't happen. The truth was, while some of it was foggy, not enough of it was for that to happen. None of the parts that I would have preferred to forget were misplaced in memory at all. Not the look on Harry's face when I saw him over Brandon's shoulder, not the aggravation from Nina, and not the touches I allowed Brandon in the first place either.

I didn't even know why I did it. Or why I allowed it to keep going. The regret had yet to fully subside even afterwards. It also didn't help that Nina had given me her version of silent treatment the night of. She didn't say much to me unless she needed to, but there wasn't much she needed to say besides helping me get to bed. I was pretty sure I had even started crying at one point, mumbling about how I fucked things up between everyone and how stupid I was to go to the party.

Nina just shushed me to sleep, saying that we would talk about it in the morning when I had sobered up. Which we did. She seemed more put together then and less annoyed with me, too. As long as she wasn't holding a grudge over me, that was all that mattered in the moment. She never was upset for long, which I was eternally grateful for. Sometimes I didn't fully deserve it, but that never seemed to matter.

I even remembered instinctively reaching for my phone once I woke up more, hoping to see a message from Harry. Some kind of acknowledgement had to have been better than nothing. Until I remembered that he had left for the next few days back to his planet. I tried not to think about what he could possibly be thinking, but he was probably too preoccupied with his star duties anyway– whatever that meant.

Instead, the only messages I received were texts that I had the least amount of energy to deal with. They were from Brandon from last night, rambling different cursing variations slewn together from his obvious drunken state. It was hard to piece together completely what he was trying to say, but it was obvious that he was angry that I got up and left him for Harry. Actually, most of the insults were directed towards Harry, messily explaining how Harry would never give me what I needed whereas he could. Most involved the size of his dick.

That was probably the first time I had truly laughed since that night. The blocked and deleted buttons had never been so easy to press.

She had breakfast cooking, but she said I had to get out of bed to get it. It took awhile to muster up the energy over the hangover, but I think that was part of the punishment, whether on purpose or not.

Regardless, once I did get up, I didn't eat much. The blaring headache in my skull was too powerful to focus on anything else besides fighting the urge to vomit all over the countertops. That was how I ended up spending the majority of the rest of the day. While she ran errands, I tried my best to sleep it all away. I wrote off the sunken feeling I felt in my chest as another inevitable symptom of binge drinking, but when I woke up the next day sober, I realized that that wasn't at fault of the alcohol at all.