Late (p.w)

twelve - spaghetti & coke

harry's pov:

i swear dylan is making it so hard for me to not punch him in the face, again.

he's been pissing me off so much lately. especially revolving around whitnee. it's like a combustion triangle with her being the oxegen, him being the fuel and me being the heat.

my insides have been feeling all funny and gross too. i'm almost one hundred percent sure i'm sick with something because my heart always pounds fast and i feel like puking regularly. my body chemistry is all over the place. i feel like i have no real hold on my emotions anymore. which is ironic since a couple weeks ago i barely felt anything.

if i could have it my way, i'd walk up to dylan right now and make him taste my fist, but because of whitnee the last thing i want is to make her feel she's not safe or in danger.

even though i'm those exact things.

from further away in the crowd i spot dylan talking to some randoms with a smug look on his face and hickeys all over his neck whenever the disco ball lights hit him.

the bruises i gave him cascading from the corners of his eyes plus the hickeys he just got make him look kinda badass. which pisses me off even more, because i just have a lame bruise.

i've always envied how he was always able to rock the whole "dead" look. his pale skin and dark rims surrounding his eye sockets added on to the aesthetic as well. while he looks like he could go on a kill spree at any moment, i just look like a bootleg h&m model.

i didn't have the chance to have any fun whatsoever so far, while all of the people i know did. even whitnee out of all people was having a good time.

my thoughts are just so loud and overwhelming it's sucking me into the void also known as my brain, & it's been hard to get out of, thus i feel as spacey as dylan & i feel like i'm living in my own head.

"hey loner." i hear a tangy voice say from my left ear.

i see a petite girl with green hair and plugs almost bigger than her look up towards me.

"hi." i mumble.

i'm really not in the mood to talk to anyone so i hope my dry replies will make her go away.

"you don't remember me don't you harry?" she chuckles lightly.

i don't bother answering her rhetorical question.

"cassidy? we were kinda a thing? i got thrown into that all girls boarding school remember?" she pauses.

right, i sort of remember her now. her hair and plugs threw me off a little but her whoville-esque nose and wide baby blue eyes brought me back to the brunette and even more ghostly toned girl i knew back in the day.

"i don't have things with girls." i assert.

"so you have things with boys." she jokes.

i glare at her with a face straighter than raw spaghetti till she stops cackling.

she lightly scoffs but she still stays. she looks sort of dismayed from the nasty comment i made.

after a few moments of silence i come to the conclusion that i at least owe it to her to talk since we did have history.

"why'd you get sent away again?" i ask

"my parents were tired of me fucking around, they thought i was gonna die if i kept up with all the drinking and hard drugs and whatever." she says casually.