I stare into his eyes, my eyes wide in shock and my mouth slightly ajar at the sight of him in this condition. I've seen Harry intoxicated endless times before, but not in the same sense that he is now. He's usually bubbly and carefree, calm and light.
However at this moment, he looks anything but that. I don't know how exactly to describe the look in his eyes, but it's... heavy, dark, uncomfortable....
Tortured, even.
"Harry, how much have you had to drink?" I ask, knowing that is not the first thing I should say to him, but also feeling the need to assess the situation as much as possible. He closes his eyes, exhaling a breath through his mouth harshly. He tilts his head to the ceiling.
"Enough to be here." He shrugs.
Is he already making digs at me again?
Is this what he came here to do?
Enough to be here? What, as if he couldn't knock on my door without getting hammered first?
"What does that mean?" I ask, frustration already apparent in my voice.
"Uh.... N-no. That's.... That's not what I meant." He slurs, his cheeks turning a bit red as if he's embarrassed.
Thats new.
He pauses before continuing. "I just.... I need to talk to you." He stammers, his voice slightly louder than before, almost sounding annoyed. It seems as if he realized that he came off as a bit embarrassed, and is trying to mask it with a defensive tone.
I have no desire to argue with him again, as I'm still licking my wounds from his words earlier today. His head returns to its normal position, no longer tilted towards the ceiling. He looks into my eyes, his long eyelashes fluttering a few times. His once light green irises are now dark and pleading. I take a moment before responding.
"Why, Harry? What do you want from me?" I ask, lowering my head to look at the floor. The eye contact is suffocating, my mind spinning with his words earlier as well as the look on his face right now. There is a tension between us at the moment that I haven't felt before. I can tell that something is bothering him, and I'm worried that he is still angry and has come to tell me off again.
"I just.... I need to talk to you. I said some things today.... Things that I didn't mean." He slurs again. Suddenly, I can see things clearly. I have an understanding of the look on his face. It's not anger or a need to berate me.... Instead, Harry is coming to me with his tail between his legs.
"Things you didn't mean?" I repeat his words in the form of a question, waiting for an explanation. He nods, running his hand through his disheveled curly hair with a groan.
"Yes, alright? I said some stuff that I didn't mean. Can I just come in?" He rushes the last part out, taking a step forwards into the room but ultimately tripping and crashing into my chest, almost sending me flying backwards. He darts his hands out to my forearms to catch my fall, steadying me.
"Sorry..." He reluctantly admits, bowing his head and looking down into the small space between our bodies. He lightly shakes his head before straightening out again and taking a few more steps inside, closing the door behind him.
"Okay...." I mumble, following him inside. Harry takes a seat on the foot of the bed, his feet still touching the ground. He runs a hand through his hair again, moving it to rest on the back of his neck. He scratches it a few times before brining his hand back down beside him.
"Are you mad at me....?" He asks, his voice a whisper. He asks the question in a tone that suggests it's hard for him to even get those words out. He doesn't make eye contact with me, his eyes fixed on the floor.
