Belong to the World

The Way You Doubt Your Feelings

Harry  hazily blinks his way out of his sleep. His head hurts, he realizes. His shirt is off and his breath smells really bad. 

His lights are off but the morning sun rays coming in through the blinds of his window make him feel calm, peaceful.  He turns on his side and is taken back when he sees a sleeping girl with olive skin and a nose ring. Her shirt is off and her lips are stained red. The light makes her dark black hair almost brown with a reddish tint. She's beautiful and she's also overstayed her welcome. 

He gets up to stretch, relieving the ache in his lower back, satisfied when he hears the pop of his spine. He grabs his phone from the nightstand table next to his bed which, somehow, has a crack in the middle of it. He sighs but doesn't really worry about it. He'll just get a new one. He unlocks it, ignoring the missed calls and text messages, to go to his Uber App to send a car to his condo. 

He gets the urge to piss suddenly, so he goes to the restroom, brushing his teeth after, avoiding looking in the mirror as he spits back the water into his sink and dries his mouth with a maroon washcloth. 

As he throws the rag into his dirty clothes bin, he hears a honk from outside. 

Harry's surprised, that was quick, or it was a long piss..anyways.

He walks out of the restroom and to the girl, still sound asleep, and shakes her. 

"Hey, get up. There's a car waiting for you."

He watches as she stirs, and finally, opens one eye. She groans upon seeing him.

"Ugh, fine. Do you know where my dress is?" 

She has an accent, Harry realizes. He looks around his feet, and picks up a flimsy black material, holding it up with two fingers, "This it?"

"Mhm, yeah, thanks." 

He watches out the window as she pulls it on, feeling the melancholy aura of the city in front of him. 

Once she stands up, he realizes how small she is, barely reaching his shoulders. She ignores his staring and asks, "Do you want my number? We could do this again sometime."

He shrugs and hands her his phone, not that he was going to call anyways. 

He leads her out to the door, never exchanging good-byes. 

After closing his door, he sits at his kitchen table and checks his phone. The only one he has slight interest in is one from Zayn; Hey bro, party tonite? u in? 

Not really, he thinks, but Zayn always has the best shit so he texts back, sure, see u. 

Zayn's parties consisted mostly of a bunch of people doing a variety of drugs and the others having sex somewhere in Zayn's large house...or both, and a cool playlist all customized by Zayn himself.

They didn't start 'til late though and other than that, he didn't really have any plans so he ate some breakfast (almost stale Cheerios) and sat on his couch, watching whatever was on the T.V., his cat, Rainy, purring lazily on his lap while he stroked her neck with his other hand. 

Harry wasn't much of an animal guy, except a cat he had when he was younger, but other than that, he didn't have much animal experience. He got Rainy a couple of months ago. He was smoking weed outside, leaning on the complex door that led to the large dumpster out back when he saw her, drenched and trembling in water. 

 He didn't know what had gotten in to him but the next thing he knew, he found himself going inside to grab an umbrella and a towel. He walked out with open umbrella in hand, the rain hitting the top making it almost impossible to hear her meows as he picked her up with the towel, wrapping her in it and running inside. 

He hadn't expected to keep her, but she was hard to let go, one of Harry's flaws.  

Despite everything, he didn't mind keeping her. She was cute, a little white, fluffy thing, who brightened up his home a bit and made Harry not feel so lonely. 

Depressing? 

Maybe. But she was cute so. But also a bit boring. 

He lifted her up gently, setting her to the side and reached for the baggie in his pocket, dumping it's contents on his glass table, lining it up along with a random gift card he had lying around into a straight line. 

Immediately after sniffing it, it relaxes him. The sharps of every angle intensify and he swears every time, it's like all the colors around him; from the trees out his window, to the red pillow on his couch, are all singing his name.

He feels it taking over every inch, every atom in his body, infiltrating his veins, making him feel alive yet numb at the same time. It drove him crazy, to feel so lifeless yet so free, a desire stronger than lust. 

The feeling was nothing like the first time though, but at least the nosebleeds stopped a long time ago.

After dusting the excess powder off the table, he heads into the shower to get ready. 

He dries off after a long shower, picking a pair of black jeans with slits in the knees, a white t-shirt under a black, hooded leather jacket and slips on a pair of black boots, the usual.

Before heading to the party, he stops by the store to buy a new iPhone. He'd been wanting the 6 plus anyways. 

It's late, the sun already setting, when he arrives at Zayn's house, cars all down the street aready. He parks in a random person's driveway, feeling too high in the clouds...as if he himself is fading into the dark blue's and orange's of the sunset, to give a fuck.  

He walks in through Zayn's narrow hallway, couples on each other already, smoke heavy in the air, on the floor, in his lungs, the deep bass of the music blaring from the speakers making it feel like his heart is trembling...or it might be the cocaine, anyways. 

He ignores the hungry stares of the girls and guys around him, his mind focused one thing; finding his guy, the one who sells the stuff that makes him forget everything, that clears his mind, his soul, his heart, for just a bit, that replaces it with an indescribable feeling. The one's he'd die for, the one he wants thrown at his grave. 

He walks into the living room, definitely the loudest and crowded room, and spots Zayn lounging on a couch that's too full of people to see what color it is, a fat blunt in his mouth, his head titled back in laughter, smoke blowing out of his nose as he does so. 

No one knows how but he makes it look like a sin and art at the same time. Harry can't even be jealous, all he can do is appreciate it, as does everyone else. 

After taking another hit, Zayn meets Harry's eyes and motions for him to come over. 

He walks towards him, aware of both the plethora of hickeys on his neck, and the proximity of the two girls next to him, both who are staring at Harry like a piece of meat, both super hot. 

He leans down to place his ear next to Zayn's mouth, using one of the darker girl's bare thigh for support. 

He doesn't even have to ask, Zayn just says, "He's in my room." 

Harry nods and lets his fingers gently drag across her thigh, winking as she gasps. 

He walks up to the stairs, stepping around two boys with septum piercings making out, and goes down the hall to Zayn's room.

Right before he can reach it, the bathroom door opens and out comes a petite boy, with the hardest, iciest, blue eyes that Harry swears go soft when he sees him, praying and hoping with all of him that it's true, before the small boy turns away and walks past him, zipping up his pants as he does so, followed by another guy whose cheeks are red. 

Harry feels his blood turn hot, his heart feels split open, despite all the locks and chains surrounding it, they all fall off upon seeing the blue-eyed boy, as it always does. 

He feels the high wearing off, the ecstasy coming off, replaced with a want so deep, so long, it feels like he's had it for a thousand years. 

The feeling only the drugs can take away, stopping him from doing shit he knew he would do if he wasn't high, like this...walking after the petite boy.