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☆♬○♩●♪✧♩ ♩✧♪●♩○♬☆
JUNE 26TH 1994
Thank God Emma didn't believe in signs or omens because had she been one of those people, she probably would've given up on Glastonbury minutes after waking up in the morning of June 26th.
Harry was adamant on leaving early so they wouldn't have to rush through anything and Emma originally agreed. That was before she was woken up at 5:30 in the fucking morning by her alarm, making her question every life decision that had led her to this moment. Emma felt like she was being slapped repeatedly by whips as she got up. It felt like torture in spite of the fact that she'd refrained from going to the pub the night before.
Why did I agree to this? I want to put me fucking head on the blender already.
Luckily, her need for tea was stronger than her desire to die so that was her main goal after finding her slippers with her feet in the dark.
Of course, it was just her luck that she filled her cup with too much hot water due to her being virtually unable to keep her eyes open for more than two seconds and therefore made a mess that she'd obviously have to clean. She did so, taking deep breath after deep breath and trying not to succumb to frustration.
But that wasn't the end of it.
As she was drinking her coffee, she sneezed. She sneezed with a mouthful of hot liquid. Another mess to clean at 5:47AM. Again, she cleaned everything up (this time with a rage-generated knot in her throat) and quickly went back to her room in order to change and put her oversized white shirt in the laundry basket.
Was that the end of it? Unfortunately not.
Emma's plan was to wear her dark gray Radiohead shirt for trip and for the festival (she hadn't worn it in a hot minute so she was fairly excited to pull it out from the depths of her wardrobe) and a pair of black skinny jeans ripped at the knees. It was an outfit she felt safe and cool with.
The problem was, she clearly hadn't worn those pants in a while because when it came time to zip them up, Emma simply couldn't do it. They were too tight.
Well that's just fucking grand, isn't it? Now I have to wear a skirt and I'm insecure as fuck.
So yeah, it's a good thing she shoved all of the signs right up the Devil's arsehole.
☆♬○♩●♪✧♩ ♩✧♪●♩○♬☆
"Nice legs." Harry teased as Emma got in the car with her backpack not half an hour later. The girl just flipped him off, pulling the fabric of the item as far as she was able to despite the fact that it bounced right back up when she let go of it. "Emma, this is Mark." Harry introduced. He was sitting on the passenger's seat while another man was driving.
