¶𝗥𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝗕𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗼𝗺 [H.S]

2.17

𝙼𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚎

Harry has emotions but stops himself before feeling anything except anger. He's good with anger. That's probably all he felt, through his twenty years of existence. Twenty-one. Is he that old? Well, he's too old for someone who hasn't felt anything but rage, and he's too young for someone who's swimming in dirty money. Maybe, if he had come from a wealthy family, he would've made it to Forbes' Billionaires Under Thirty.

"You can choose a song if it means you won't talk about your trauma," Harry mocked, pressing the car key. The doors of his car opened up, and I slid into the passenger seat.

I rolled my eyes at his comment, taking a sip from the Vodka that somehow was still half-full before placing my finger on the screen. I scrolled through a few songs.

"You can play your song if you want," Harry suggested, rolling the windows down.

"Not in the mood," I rejected him quickly before playing the NBHD.

Harry nodded, not saying anything else. Then he started the car before hitting the gas pedal hard, making me cling to my seat. His face was stern. He didn't look at me or talk to me. He was so focused on the road that he didn't realize he popped three Adderalls before I took the patch from him. He wasn't in the mood for fun drugs either. On the good side, I almost finished the bottle of Vodka. On the other side, I felt like throwing up.

"Do you have any pills on you?" I asked, even though I was about to pop one just because I could.

He didn't say anything. Instead, he pointed with his finger at the car pocket. Great. The Harry that couldn't shut the fuck up wasn't talking at all.

I looked through his stuff, noticing a small plastic bag with white powder. His name was over it, but I hoped he was down to share the cocaine with a friend. Friend. Were we friends? He didn't listen to me when I was going through stuff. He wasn't comforting me or giving effective bits of advice, but he didn't kick me out. And he still hadn't stabbed me in the back, so that was supposed to mean something. Shaking my head, I raised the bag in the air.

"Is that coke?" I asked him with a smile.

cocaine was the best of the drugs. I mean, it helped me focus and cut the crap, so it was nice to do a few lines here and there. I should probably buy some before the finals.

"It's Heroin."

Heroin, on the other hand, wasn't for me. I had tried it once and never again. It was expensive, and back then, when my parents suspected I was... an addict, I didn't have that much money to spend on a drug that made me emotionally and physically detached. You had to be really fucked up in the head to crave Heroin. But then again, I used to take Fentanyl after my mother left us, and the pain was too much to handle.

"It says Harry on it?" I muttered in confusion. I suspected he was on something heavy to be this detached from emotion, but I would've never guessed Heroin. And instead of pointing fingers, it was easier to play clueless.