Everything You Want

Chapter Eleven

*the next day*

Harry's POV:

I pulled out the key to the house, just hoping for the best. I had gone to work today, leaving Zayn to watch over Callie, just to make sure she didn't do anything... Drastic. Some people don't take death too lightly and end up killing themselves shortly after, and that's not what I wanted Callie to do. She was too special.

I'd only known her for a little under a month, however I couldn't help but melt at her smile and laugh when she laughed. I did like her, but it's not like I'm just going to flirt with her to win over her heart. She was really fragile at the moment, and what she needed was comfort.

I walked into the house, and I could hear the distant sound of loud music coming from what seems to be my section of the house.

I walked into the main living room, only to find Zayn scrolling through Twitter, sprawled out on the couch.

"Hey. How is she?" I asked. He looked up at me.

"She hasn't come out of your guest room all day. She's been blasting that damn music all day long and it's really quite annoying." he told me. I laughed a little at is annoyance.

"What has she eaten?"

"I put some Pop-Tarts out by her door along with a glass of water, but I don't know if she's eaten them."

I nodded. "I'm gonna go check on her."

"You can't; the door's locked."

"Well, I suppose I'll have to change that, won't I?" I asked smugly, holding up the key to her room. I jogged up to the door, already wincing from the music volume.

I unlocked the door and pulled it open.

The room was covered in every art utensil ever invented and crumpled-up paper. Callie sat in the center of it all, sketching something that I couldnt see.

She hadn't noticed me yet, so I walked over to the loud speaker and turned it off. Immediately her head jerked up and she looked at me, seeming surprised.

"How are you?" I asked, thinking that she probably wouldn't respond.

"That depends on what you want me to say." she said, her voice shaky and tired. I was overjoyed that she was talking, though.

"I want you to say how you're actually doing." I said, sitting next to her.

"Terrible. Alex is gone and I wasn't even there to say goodbye. And it's my fault that he was drunk; if I was a good person, I wouldn't have let him drink as much, but I'm a bad person, therefore he's dead. Gone. Forever." she said, each word making my heart break even more.

"Cal, youre not a bad person. You're a great person. It's not your fault he's dead; he brought that on himself. You shouldn't feel bad about something you can't control." i told her.

"Harry, can I ask you something?" she asked.

"Of course." I said gently.

"Have you ever cried so much that you just run out of tears, but you wish that you could cry?" she asked.

"I'm not sure exactly what you mean." I admitted.

"I've cried so much, that now I can't cry anymore, but I want to cry because I feel like with every tear, the pain is leaving me. I know, that's stupid. Just never mind." she said, looking down at her thumbs.

"No, I do understand. I've lost ones close to me too." I told her.

"Really?" she asked, turning to face me. Her face was tear-stained, but her eyes seemed to have a bit more life.