Speak |h.s. a.u.|

Chapter 60

Trigger warning :-/

It was Wednesday and Harry was sitting alone on his couch, Annabelle's favorite artists playing through the speaker of his laptop. His eyes were closed and his head leaned back, his hands in his hair. He couldn't find a way to stop the loneliness and guilt that had taken over him. He tried listening to music he listened to when he was a teenager, he tried listening to Annabelle's favorite music, he tried looking at pictures of her, he tried sleeping, he tried watching movies. He tried everything, but the only things that helped him happened to be getting as drunk as he could or seeing her in person, and since the latter were impossible right now, he decided to go get drunk.

He walked to a bar that was only three minutes down the street, ordering two shots. It took him no time to down them, ordering another one. Four shots later, he was beginning to get more than tipsy. Harry could handle a lot of alcohol, he'd had tons of experience of drinking in his life. He ordered a glass of whiskey, practically chugging it down. He wanted to forget so badly, he had to drink until he felt numb. He had to keep drinking until he couldn't remember her pretty face and her pretty laugh and her pretty hair and her pretty body and her pretty hands and her pretty eyes and her pretty lips. After two glasses of whiskey and six shots, he was finally able to breath again. He somehow hadn't thrown up yet, he somehow never seemed to get alcohol poisoning. His body was used to begging filled to the brim with the burning liquids.

He stood up from the wooden stool, his legs slightly wobbly as he walked onto the dance floor that was filled with sweaty and wasted people. Before he knew it, he was pressed up against some blonde, her butt grinding into his hips. The music thumped in the small space, his head feeling as if it were spinning. He gripped the girl's waist, pulling her closer and letting out groans as she danced against him. A few minutes later, they were making out with their hands all over each other. His eyes were closed, his forehead sticky and his hands weak.

He pressed the girl up against a wall, his tongue in her mouth and her hands on his butt, trying to force his hips closer to hers. But when he opened his eyes and saw a stranger so close to him, he pulled away. His blurry mind felt as if it had cleared up, red lights flashing in the back of his head.

"You're not Annabelle." Harry mumbled, pushing himself away from the tall girl and sulking back over to the stools at the bar. He ordered another drink, shaking his head as he pulled at his curls. He just wanted her out, he just wanted to be able to go two seconds without seeing her big eyes begging him to stop yelling at her and saying such mean things.

After three more hours of trying to handle more drinks and searching the place for Annabelle in his drunken state, he decided to walk back to his place and get out of the crowded and dark bar. He stumbled down the sidewalk, almost tripping many times and giggling at himself. One of the times, he had caught himself on a girl, giggling and saying sorry.

"Are you drunk?" The girl laughed, holding Harry's body up to examine his features. He shook his head.

"No, I'm Harry." He giggled again, noticing the girl's small blue eyes. He liked blue eyes, but they weren't as sparkly or as adorable as Annabelle's big hazel eyes.

"Okay, Harry, I'm Alice. Do you need help getting home?" The girl's hands held his biceps so he couldn't trip again. He shook his head.

"Alice," he slurred, "my place is right there." He pointed to the building in front of them.

"Okay, Harry. Let's get you inside." Alice held him up as best as she could as they walked up the stairs and through the lobby to the elevator. She realized how handsome this drunk and giggly boy were, hoping there wouldn't be a girl in his apartment when he opened the door. She had to help him get the key in the lock and open his door, letting him wobble into his living room and plop down on the couch.