[This is a sequel to "When the Flash Fades"]
Harry and Noa were once inseparable, bound by their shared passion for music and an undeniable connection.
Three years have passed, and their lives have taken different paths. But fate-or whatever higher...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I've texted, I've called, and now I'm banging on his door like there's no tomorrow. "Harry!" I shout, desperation creeping into my voice. I fear the worst. Him lying on the floor dead or him not being there. I'm pretty sure there needs to go 24 hours before you can declare a person missing.
Finally, the door creaks open, revealing a tired-looking Harry, shirtless and rubbing his eyes like he's just woken up from a deep sleep. "Noa?" he mumbles, sleep-confusion evident in his voice.
I barge in, taking in the scene of chaos – bottles scattered everywhere, drugs lying out in the open, things broken and thrown everywhere. "Seriously, what have you been doing?" I demand, my disbelief turning into frustration. He doesn't answer my texts and calls because he was too busy drinking himself into misery?! That is so pathetic and idiotic!
"Nothing," he slurs, clearly drunk or high.
"Fuck, Harry, you've detroyed your place!" I exclaim, unable to hide my shock.
He flops down on the couch, looking like he's about to pass out. "Yeah, maybe," he mutters, closing his eyes.
"No way," I say firmly, refusing to let him off the hook that easily. I head to the kitchen, almost falling over because of all the stuff laying around his floor, I grab a glass, and fill it with water.
"Shh, you're being loud," he complains, holding his head like it's about to split open.
I just roll my eyes at his whining. "How long has it been like this?" I ask, handing him the glass.
"Dunno. Since I got back to London, I guess," he replies with a heavy sigh.
"Enough is enough," I declare, my patience wearing thin. "You're getting up."
"What?" he mumbles, looking confused.
"You heard me," I say, my voice getting louder. "Get your ass up!"
He chuckles weakly, trying to roll away from me. Definetly not thinking im serious.
I roll my eyes, not backing down. "Fine, if that's how you want to play it." I grab him and haul him into a sitting position. "You're taking a shower, getting yourself together, and no more feeling sorry for yourself. I'll clean up this mess and make you something to eat. End of discussion."
