paint it black [h.s]

[four] afraid

-Harry-

I somehow managed to wake myself up at about 6:30 in the morning.  I hadn't forgotten last night, even with as many drinks as I'd had. 

I  sat up in the bed I was in and I could hear people speaking from downstairs. The party is still going on. 
To my left, I noticed she was still there, out cold.  She looked peaceful, though.  Her long brown curly hair spread across the pillow.  Her eyes closed with long eyelashes complementing her pink tinted cheeks. 

I smiled to myself, pulling the covers off of me.  Somehow, last night, I managed to get my shirt and jeans off, sleeping next to this innocent girl in boxers.

I sighed and got up, pulling my clothes back over me not forgetting my phone behind me.  In the bathroom, I looked at my reflection.  My hair had been a mess and I definitely needed to shave.  I needed a shower as well.  Fuck it, I just need to go home. 

I didn't bother taking my time to leave, knowing it'd be better to get home and get rid of this aggravating migraine. 

Once downstairs and out of the mess of half naked whores and the smell of booze and joints, I finally find myself walking down the street heading towards my apartment.

Beautiful friend, this is the end.  The voice spoke to me.  The end?  What does it mean "the end?" 

Suddenly I began to feel drowsy.  Dizzy.  I was stumbling on the sidewalk and tripping over my feet, nearly falling on anyone who was close to me. 

The voice continued.  The end.  The end. The end.  It repeated in my ears over and over again.  It began to become a harsh whisper: the end.

I was mumbling.  "Get out, get out, get out."  My visions were blurry.  Suddenly, I was praying that this was just effects from alcohol and cocaine. 

"Get back, he's insane."  I now finally  heard others.  I was relieved, that I could finally hear my own thoughts and the voices of others.

I manage to get back to my apartment, avoiding people.  Once there, the first and foremost thing was to take a shower.  The hot water poured down my back and drenched my hair.  I won't lie, it does feel good to be sober (and clean) once in a while.  I managed to take my time in the shower, then to take my time getting dressed. In my closet, I'd found a black button-up shirt. I put on my black skinny jeans, my black boots and ruffled my hair and left my apartment, looking for some peace and quiet.

-Stella-
My eyes opened as I awoke.  My head was pounding as I had a massive migraine from last night.  Ugh, hungover, I thought to myself.  My phone was surprisingly with me.  Unlocking it, I noticed it said 08:17.
Shit.  Hopefully Faye is still here. 

I sprang up from the bed, heading to the door, avoiding others.  Immediately, I noticed Faye wasn't there, meaning no ride home.  Now I have to walk home with this migraine?! Great.  The bright sunlight didn't help.  My eyes shut tight as I tried to make my way down the sidewalk.  From the looks I was getting from the public, I guess I'd needed to clean up. 

The walk home wasn't far, though.  I was home in nearly ten minutes.  My parents were still asleep which had me relieved.  I guess they thought I'd stayed at Faye's, but if they saw me coming home looking like this, they'd disown me.  I quickly ran upstairs and stripped myself of my clothes.  The shower head sprayed down on my back. In about ten minutes, I was already out.

My wardrobe lay before me.  I decided on a tan jumper, with high waisted jeans and white flats. After my hair was dried and straightened, light makeup covered my face. I finished off my appearance with my favourite scent. It was now 09:32 a.m. and nobody was awake. I pulled my coat over me, grabbed my phone and journal, left a note in the kitchen, and left to the coffee shop.

Outside was colder than I thought. There was a breeze along with the already cool, autumn air. I walked alone down the crowded streets saying hello to a few people along the way.  My face was burned with the chills from outside, and my nose was red when I entered the warm coffee house.  It smelt of my favourite scents — coffee and baked goods.  I made my way to the table I always sit at.  It's by the window, away from everybody.

Before I could even begin to open my journal and touch the pen to the paper, a cold rush of wind blew all over me. The sound of bells was heard. Someone had come from the back door, I looked up, and I couldn't believe it.

It was him. It was the man from the party. I put my head down, not wanting to be even noticed. He walked away, I assume to get coffee. My heart was racing, and my body got a rush of that familiar feeling.

I looked towards the counter. He was waiting in line. He looked calm, and sad. I didn't know, though, and I was too nervous to even speak to anybody, let alone him.

I brushed my hair to the side of my face, trying my best not to be noticed. My mind, however, was incapable of coming up with words and stories to write. It was focused on him and only him. It was weird though, because here, I'm always writing.

I decided to get up and leave, maybe today wasn't my day for writing. Before I could even close my journal, my heart jumped when I heard a voice from in front of me. My head was down, but I could already tell who it was.

"What's that?" I looked up at the man, who was smiling. I didn't say anything, I just slammed my journal shut.

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't mean to-," for a minute, I thought he was a gentleman, who actually cared. He cleared his throat.

"Never mind. Forget I asked." I just looked at him, admired him. By now, my face was probably as red as it's ever been.

"Look, I don't know who you are but-" I was about to get up to excuse myself home, but I was interrupted.

"I'm sorry. Here, maybe this'll make up? I got it for you." He sat a hot chocolate on the table. I looked at him, a bit scared.

"C'mon," he laughed, "the least you could do is take it after I paid for it."
I took a deep breath and just said, "Thank you."

The drink was warm against my hands and I could tell I really needed this drink.  I touched the cup to my lips, and swallowed the warm liquid with a sigh of relief. 

After this trance from hot chocolate, I noticed how he was starting at me.  Not in a creepy way, but in a concerned way.

"I'm sorry," I started, "but, who are you?"  He simply smirked. 

"My dear," my heart was beating, "I'm Harry. Harry Styles." Styles.

"I'm Stella. Stella Hurst."  Harry simply scoffed, as if he couldn't care less.  I was a bit concerned with the mood changes of this boy I've just met. 

"Look, Stella," he said, a bit sarcastically.  "How about I meet you here tonight at seven and we can go for dinner?"  He said this to me, more like a demand rather than a question.  I barely know him.

I gulped. "Y-you mean like a, like d-date?" Shit. As if I haven't embarrassed myself enough.

"Yes. Why? What's so wrong about dating me?" Okay, I was actually scared now.  He was smirking in an evil way.

"What do you mean?" I ask in a shaky voice.  His once scintillating green eyes, turn from emerald to stone cold green.  A kind of green that is a beautiful shade, but gives off a deadly vibe.  "We can't be with each other."  I shake my head.  His voice gives out an evil chuckle.

I watched him.

"Oh, sweetheart, do you think I want to be with a prude like you?"

My face drains of colour.  But then, I remember.  I remember a few weeks ago.  That one night there was a gun.  And I was right there.  The images came all over again.  I looked at his devilish smirk.

"Do you think I want to be with a murderer like you?"

His face fell and he shut up.

-AN-
YOOOO sorry it's been so long since my updates but I've been SOOOOO busy with school :((((
Updating next chapter soon!! Keep voting and commenting!!!
Thank you all!!!
:)
Xx, Natalie.
P.s sorry for any mistakes in this story, I didn't read over it !