I sat on a couch in Harry's bed, watching as he would take drag after drag from his joint. He had asked me to watch over him tonight because he wanted to smoke and drink. It was unusual for him to ask anyone to take care of him. If someone ever tried helping him in a drunken state, he would claim that he knew how to take care of himself.
I always disagreed when he said he knew how to take care of himself, but I never argued against it. Smoking cigarettes, smoking weed, and getting drunk didn't seem like smart choices. I tried telling him once, but Harry simply shut me up.
"(Y/N)," Harry said softly.
I put my thoughts on hold to see him standing in front of me. One could start to see the effect of marijuana on his eyes. They were glossy and a bit bloodshot.
"Yeah?" I asked quietly.
He smirked down at me, and soon realized he was able to look down my shirt. I pressed my palm to the shirt to prevent him from looking. I repeated what I had said just a few seconds ago as a light blush crept onto my cheeks.
"Take a drag," he demanded as he knelt.
He had the joint between two of his long fingers, and he was handing it to me.
"I don't-No, thank you." I stuttered.
He had never told me to do anything like this. No matter how many years of friendship we had, I couldn't get used to his new habits. His new way of being. Somehow I had dealt with it for three full years.
"Live a little," he insisted.
I gently pushed away his hand with the joint away from my face. He got up and sat on the far end of the same couch. After a while he put The Weeknd on blast on his TV. Abel's music videos made me feel uncomfortable, especially if Harry was two feet away.
Harry loved all of the rated R type of things. That's probably why he is so explicit with everything.
I got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen for some juice. I decided to drink it in the kitchen.
When I went back into the living room, Harry was rolling his second joint. He was also taking swings from a bottle of wine that he probably had hidden in the side stands.
"(Y/N)," he called for the second time.
"Hmm?" I hummed as I stared at him from my standing position.
"C'mere," he answered.
I complied, and walked until I stood about a foot before him. He sighed and pulled me forward by the hoop of my jeans, causing me to stumble onto his lap.
"Sorry," I mumbled.
For some reason I didn't try to get off of him.
"Here," he said.
He took the joint and almost placed it between my lips, but I moved.
"That's bad." I finally attempted to get off, but his arm around my waist pressed me to him.
"There's nothing wrong with taking a drag, nor straddling me." He stated.
I sighed and rested my hands against his chest to create some space.
"Open your mouth."
I shook my head. He took a long drag from the joint, then he suddenly squeezed my bum making me gasp, and at last he blew the smoke into my mouth. I didn't know how to react, so I turned my head to the side to blow the smoke. It was unexpected. He had never touched me like this, and it was quite disrespectful. Then again, I enjoyed it.
"That was hot."
"Let me get off now," I whispered through my shock.
"You know why I changed? Do you know why I got worse?" He ignored my comment.
I wanted to tell him that our friendship had been on the breaking point since he changed himself. I couldn't tell him anything without him saying something hurtful. And he just wouldn't trust me. Instead of telling him everything I wanted to, he just shrugged.
"It was that one bitch that dumped me long time ago, but I didn't even care about her like a month after. I guess I just got used to everything. Now, I do get kind of hurt because you have been rejecting me for a long time." He took a pause as he felt me tense up. "You somehow deal with my shit. I like how you say you want to do crazy things, but you never do anything. You're all just talk. I like that you're innocent, but at the same time you're not. I've heard you talk with your friend before, and you sounded nothing like an angel. I just wish I could put a smile on your face a lot. I want to take you out to places. Why can't you be my girlfriend? Is it the tattoos? The piercings? Are you embarrassed of me? Are you scared of what your parents would think? You have admitted before that you like me too." He finished.
"It's none of that. I can care less about your appearance, or what others think. It's just that I feel like we can't trust each other. We grew apart. It's hard dealing with you. You have the worst mood swings, and your hamartia is women." I explained.
"We can make it work. I'm yours. Just please be mine," he begged as he left a trail of wet kisses down my neck.
The new feeling was enough to make me feel vulnerable, and weak to my knees.
"Okay," I whispered, letting him do what he pleased with me.
