Jupiter Falls ✓

o3| 3am weed

Chapter 3

(that's Jupiter above

& cut me some slack it's like 3:30am in LDN rn)

"Harry?" I asked at the top of the staircase with my tea in hand. I see there was a hallway leading straight ahead with more white wooden doors, leading to what I'm assuming are more rooms.

Feeling my eyebrows draw together in confusion, I walk toward the first door on the right, my unoccupied hand over the door handle just about to push down on it—before I stop in hesitation.

Do I really want to do this? Follow Harry into whatever he's doing because it might even be the road paved to hell and the destruction of Hays and I ( and that's if there's still anything between us).

No, I want to. There's nothing about Hays keeping me sane right now. It might as well be the caramel wooden planks on the floor of Harry's hallway keeping me grounded as opposed to floating aimlessly into the anger, pain and anguish of my relationship with Hays.

Without a second glance, I push on the handle and see more white. Popping my head into it see a bathtub, nice and round sitting in the corner of the room, it was large I want to say big enough to hold more than three people...

Processing that I just saw a bathtub, I realise that I'm standing in the bathroom. You're a genius, Jupiter! Well done!

"Over here J," I hear Harry's voice call out lowly. I step out of the bathroom and again into the hallway. I walk further down the hall of white walls and doors, I stop at the last door which is slightly a jar.

I get a smell of metal, grass and burnt popcorn hit my senses—weed. My hand against the door, I pushed it fully open to see Harry laying on the king sized bed, window behind the bedside table wide open, the little moon light illuminating parts of Harry (and the parts of the furniture) in an otherwise pitch black room and the cold English winds blowing through his hair.

"I see you came," he said.

"Yeah," I replied, sitting next to him on the bed.

The hand holding his blunt was resting on his chest and the other was playing in his hair strands. "This is the shit I do when I'm bored, sexually frustrated or just whenever really. Now you know J, we're on that level," he explains with his voice coarse and lowered.

"Oh, I understand. I used to do it back in the uni days... I don't even remember why I stopped, to be honest." I said, my fingers tracing the rim of my tea mug. 

"Sometimes I wish I was more adaptable," he mutters and I snort.

"Adaptable to what?—" I laugh... he's one of those. The people that talk about random shit when they're high. "—To sex positions? New haircuts?"

"To life changes J, like seriously I ain't adaptable to shit. You could tell me it's 30 degrees outside—heck even the BBC weather can too, but I'll still be wearing a massive-arse jumper." He says, laughing to himself. He then sits up with his legs now cross-legged on the duvet. He moves his hand to my face. "Have some," he offers looking at me, but I couldn't help but notice his eyes lingering on my lips. 

I take the lit blunt from his fingers and press it into mine. I give Harry a side glance and tilt my head side ways to watch him watching me. I part my plump pink pillows for lips and take a nice long drag.