Diligence [H.S.]

TWELVE

Chapter Song: THE LONELIEST by Måneskin

...

HARRY STYLES

I must look like a deer in headlights right now.

Everyone I have asked to be here is sitting in front of me with curious, uncertain eyes, staring expectantly. I know why I asked them all to be here, and now all the words seem to be stuck in my throat, refusing to come out now that I need to voice them.

Jo raises her brows at me, clearly growing tired and irritated by the prolonged silence. Oliver glances around my living room awkwardly. Noah is waiting patiently with something I would interpret as hopefulness behind his eyes. Nate is flicking his focus between me and everyone sitting on the couch.

Out of all the stares burning through me, the one coming from my right is unsettling to me the most. She scares the shit out of me. If looks could kill, she would have done so by now.

"This feels weirdly formal," Oliver mumbles.

It does. I hate it. But she remained standing, so I did too. Now it feels like I'm about to give a presentation or something.

"Harry, why did you call all of us here?" Jo asks impatiently. She glances at her watch, "I need to be at the hospital in an hour and Oliver needs to get home to check on Andrea. And he's too nice to tell you, but Noah has a class in an hour and a half."

Noah sinks further back into his seat as soon as she finishes her sentence. He was already incredibly timid when he arrived, though I'm not sure why, and he appears to have shrunk even further into his shell.

From the moment I opened the door to let him in the house, one glance at him had me worried. He doesn't necessarily look unhealthy—a little skinnier than the last time I saw him, yes—but I can tell he isn't happy. Like Jo and Oliver, the bags under his eyes are deep and visible, and his cheekbones are more prominent than usual. I'll talk to him privately once we're all done here.

Jo's tone isn't a great start, but I'm hoping as I go along she will be more open to listening and considering my offer. If not, I'll keep looking for new ways to support them until she deems one appropriate and possibly beneficial. I take a deep breath and clear my throat.

Let's hope Jo doesn't hurl that lamp on the side table at my head.

"I've been trying to process...everything you guys told me," I say with a trembling voice and lacking confidence. The eyes burning into the side of my head aren't making this any easier, especially considering I feel that all of the communication skills I have been working on in therapy need to be on point. I lick my lips before continuing, "And I want you all to know that if I had knowledge of her using at any point in time, I promise I would have been here from the beginning. I understand you guys didn't tell me. If I was in your position, I most likely would have done the same. But I hadn't know before that, I promise."

All three of their heads face down to shift their attention to the floor at the mention of them not telling me. I know none of them reached out to me out of fear of losing Andrea. I respect their decision. I respect them for making that decision because I know it isn't easy. Not when they've been struggling.

"Now that I do know," I seem to have caught their interest, bringing their attention back to me, "I want to help...and if you'll let me I'd like to offer a few i-ideas that I had that could possibly help take some of the weight off your guys' shoulders."

Jo's expression doesn't help aid the anxiety curling in my stomach. Her previous blank stare is now a pitiful one, and Oliver turns his head to see her reaction to my words. I can only assume she may be reminiscing on the time when she was hopeful of helping Andrea get clean and sober, but I don't linger on that thought for too long.