night and day [h.s]

seven

Thanks to Uriel, it was a quiet week. Barely any music could be heard flowing from his neighbor's apartment at 2 am anymore and he found the grey washing over his vision again. He noticed on his way to work, no noises would emit at all from the apartment, but at night it was lively. Footsteps, bangs, scratches, movements. As if she were moving a world in there. He wondered what she'd be doing; she hadn't moved any furniture in or out while he was at home. Was she sleeping on the floor? He'd lend her blankets and pillows and mattresses if she'd need. First he'd have to go out and buy it, though. A pretty head like that shouldn't be sleeping on the ground.

Often he'd linger as close to his door as possible just to hear little snippets in the late night of her selection. The kitchen and the front door was just a wall away from the hallway, and the hallway was a wall away from her. If he could just hear a bit, tiny teeny bit of what she was playing, it dropped a red, blue, maybe purple into his pool. But it was just a drop, not a tsunami like before. He missed it.

Missed it so much that when James appeared at his doorstep, face void of any emotion and any traces of a week ago except for the ugly bruise on his eye. James dropped a brown paper bag in his hand and left mumbling about how he'd repay him the money later. Harry slightly doubted he'd see that $700, whatever, he'd deal with it later. Right now he had not permanent colors but beautiful temporary colors. Temporary colors that came in little tabs that'd send you away to different worlds.

Earth was on one plane, acid sent you in depths, five planes away. You were thinking of shit you've never even known existed before today. Objects breathed life and life breathed strange objects. It was a plane he longed to find out what was like.

James was long gone, having gone down the elevator, and Uriel was probably at work. Harry was still wearing his stupid hat from the bakery. He took it home often by mistake, too adapt to the warmth of it.

He opened the brown bag to find two tabs in little baggies. He breathed out freedom.

Before his mind could register, because it's been a long time since anyone's lived there, the locks on the door unlocked. He thought it to be Uriel at first so his head swiveled right out of reflex but Uriel's door was locked and his apartment was silent.

It was 202.

He swiveled back and there she was.

She was standing in similar clothes to last time – workout clothes. A pair of tight fitted capris and a tank that clung to her fit body. She was leaning against the post, arms crossed against her chest, hiding her breasts – not that Harry was looking - Her ankles crossed over one another and he saw that she was smirking at him. Him? Why? They barely knew each other and her face said otherwise as if she were joking to herself about him. She didn't know him.

"Drugs? Really?"

"H-how do you - ?"

She sighed and rolled her neck, "This apartment is the sketchiest apartment I have ever lived in."

He scrunched his brows but didn't say anything. He just admired her, the way she was looking at him. Tongue poked up to wet her already glossy lips, eyes dark but sparkling bright, her body language was positive. He thinks. He's clueless about other human beings. He has been for a while. He just fucks them once in awhile and those are the real desperate ones. The girls that go to bars and cry over their latest breakup looking for someone to love them. Or the girls checking their phone but no hope avails. The girls that will check their phone on the way here but won't deny the sex. They're the girls that leave Harry looking up at the ceiling at 6 the next day cold and alone.

This girl was not that girl.

She nodded her head upwards at the bag, eyes flickering there after the intense eye contact she held with the green-eyed boy. "What do you have there?"

"Um, a brown bag."

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "No, really? I didn't put on my contacts today. For real, what do you have?"

"Acid."

She inhaled through her nose and shook her head. "That's bad. You really want to go down that road?"

"It's not bad, unless you have a bad trip. Or something."

"Yeah a bad trip, like trying to kill yourself. Convincing yourself that you can fly if you jump out that ten story window," she said. She didn't look like she was joking around, although that was nothing to joke about really. Her face was stony and serious.

"We're on the third floor."

She shifted her stance, standing on two Nikes rather than one in a half. "That's not the point. I just don't think...you should be...doing that." She pointed to the bag.

Why? It was his drugs and it was his life? Why did she give a fuck? And he instantaneously became angered. Some girl trying to tell him what the fuck to do. She could go to hell; Uriel was right. And he should have called the landlord on her.

Harry gripped his own door, veins popping out of his arm. He was rooting for her really, to be a good person. Now she thinks she can move on their floor, play her music loud in the middle of the night and tell him what to do with his life? Nah.

"Thanks for your opinion, but I don't need it."

He slammed the door. 

________________________________

hi 

yea this was supposed to be posted march 24th? i'm not sure why wattpad didn't want to publish this but here it is 7 days later! i'm sorry for being absent for so long, school is killing me and of course spring break is ending this week. i really wanted to get a lot of updates in but I'm not so confident in that happening now.

anyway 

comment and vote please and thank you :)