Manic [h.s]

#033

"Good God, she's on the floor, rollin' her eyes at me

Once I get inside, she'll wanna die with me, yeah"

DIE FOR ME | Chase Atlantic

TW: Heavy sexual content ahead! Includes kinks that certain readers might find uncomfortable (example: degradation, edging, gunplay, and etc..)

(Starts with * and ends with *)

February 13, 1999

IRIS XANDER

The smoke has a sweet, almost intoxicating aroma that teases my senses the moment I take a long, slow drag from the joint. The taste lingers on my tongue, rich and earthy that's almost mouthwatering. I exhale, watching the tendrils of smoke curl and dance in the air. There's a familiar warmth spreading through my chest, seeping into every inch of my body. It's a feeling that is like floating in a blissful haze where everything feels a little softer, a little slower, a little more distant.

I take another drag, savoring the way it fills my lungs, and loosens my muscles. The joint burns slowly between my fingers, a steady glow in the dim light as I stare out at the ocean. My legs are stretched out in front of me, and I can feel the tiny grains of sand clinging to my clothes, grounding me in the moment.

It's past midnight with the night air cool against my skin. The water glistens under the moonlight, a shimmering path that stretches out into the horizon.

Liam, Louis, and Zayn have set up a small bonfire a little farther down the beach, their quiet voices mixing with the soft crackle of the flames and the rhythmic roll of the waves. The others, as usual, are holed up inside the beach house, probably knocked out after a long day. But I needed to get out. So I snagged one of Niall's joints from his stash and made my way out here. And I was right—this is exactly where I needed to be tonight.

A sound pulls me out of my haze, and I glance over just in time to see the back door of the beach house creak open. Harry steps out, his tall figure silhouetted against the light spilling from inside. He doesn't notice me, tucked away in the shadows. His eyes are locked on the ocean as he makes his way down to the beach. I can tell from the way he's moving that his mind is somewhere else, lost in thought.

He finds a spot on the sand, not too far from the water, and sinks down. For a moment, he just sits there, his face set in that familiar monotonous expression. I almost feel like an intruder as I watch him, but I can't tear my eyes away.

I take another slow drag from the joint, flicking the last bit of ash onto the sand. The joint's almost done, just a few more hits left and I savor them, letting the high wash over me completely. It doesn't take long before it finally burns down to the filter, and I stub it out in the sand and sit there for a moment, letting the buzz settle in my veins.

After a few beats of silence, I find myself getting up, brushing off the sand from my clothes. My legs feel a little wobbly but I make my way over to Harry anyway. I don't bother with pleasantries or asking if he wants company. I just plop down beside him, close enough that our shoulders almost touch but not quite.

He turns to at me as I casually greet him with, "Hey, Styles." His brows quirk up, and he gives me that familiar look with a silent nod. I hug my knees to my chest, not taking my eyes off him. "You seem a bit distracted," I press. "What's eating at you?"

His eyes shift back to the ocean, the distant look in them returning as he shrugs. "Nothing... just everything that went down today," he mumbles. I nod, the events of the day playing back in my mind—the charity event, the way Jacob stonewalled us about the chip, and then there's Meredith. I press my lips together, tempted to tell Harry about her strange behavior since last night, but I bite it back. Something tells me that whatever's going on with Meredith, Harry has already clued in.