Love Hangover (Harry Styles Fanfiction)

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Harry's POV

6 MONTHS LATER:

"Dear Harry,

I want to thank you for all that you have done for me over these past couple of days, I appreciate it loads. But, I feel like I am taking advantage of you every second I am in your house and in your presence. I am going to search for a job and attempt to get back on my feet; well that is when all of my injuries cure. Special thanks to you for finding me that night and taking care of me instead of just passing by. I hope you cross nothing but success and love in your life.

Much Love, Abriella Claire xx"

I read the letter over and over again, something I did each and every day; scanning over each word repeatedly, hoping for a different sentence to appear each time my eyes and brain acquired the words. However, it's been 6 months since the day she left; since the day that very note was written. Somehow, the paragraph, bulky writing, 107 words, and the 518 letters haven't moved, nor changed. I stood in the same room, staring at the dark bedspread, and red sheets crisply folded and placed sharply in their designated on the bed. The pillows were obviously fluffed and sat according to their size and disposition, which for some reason angered me even more, a spark enlightening in my soul with each look and intricate glance. I held the crisp paper in my hand, clenching my fists tighter around the sharp corners, causing them to crimple and crush together from the sudden force. Slamming the paper to the ground, I ran my fingers through my curly hair, grabbing the ends in anger, frustration, and seemingly endless confusion. I stomped out of the room, the bare pads of my feet feeling a slight sting from each slam. My hands were now hanging at my sides with my fists balled together; fingernails digging into my rough, dry palms imagining the blood dripping down. I passed each door, seeing her figure standing in between the frames, her blue eyes peering straight into mine, absentmindedly causing me to stumble on my oxygen intake and catch my breath. I shook my head forcefully and stomped on, running down the thirteen stairs, hearing the echo of my feet hitting the pure wood. When I reached the floor, I ran into the kitchen, still stomping in confusion and agony. I grasped for the stainless steel fridge door, revealing the bright automatic lights and the numerous bottles of Jack Daniels sitting on the clear, slide able shelf. I cursed my eyebrows in absolute fury as I latched my hand onto the bottle removing the bronze cap and pursing my lips as the cold glass touched my lips. The liquid entered my mouth, sliding down my tongue and igniting a spark in my taste buds, causing me to scrunch the skin of my face together at the impact of the liquid hitting the brick walls of my throat. I wrapped my hands around the bottle tighter and tighter, growing more furious seeing that there were no longer remnants of the brown, addicting, and also bile liquid lying submissively inside the glass. "I hate you!" Those three simple, but strong words escaped my mouth. They felt sour against my buds, but also tasted like something that needed to be expressed to something other than my mind; not mattering if that certain object could neither respond nor object. I lifted the bottle over my right shoulder with my hand, later chucking it at the wall next to the stairs, watching, admiring at the art of the glass, seeing how the shattered and broken pieces slid down the wall painfully fast, impacting the oak floor and making a loud, obnoxious sound erupt. Standing still, admiring the new artwork furnishing the floor, a crazy, yet familiar idea popped into my mind, one that appeared almost every night, with every girl; forgetting and recovering.

"What can I get for you?" A young, vibrant, short-haired bartender asked in my direction, standing behind the counter shaking what looked like a margarita in a glass container. I smiled friendly, noticing her shirt hanging dangerously low, showing off her package. "I'll have a Jack and Coke on the rocks" I replied diligently, nonchalantly stumbling over, under, and sideways across my words, causing a mumbling sound to erupt from my lips rather than humane words found in the dictionary. Looking around the room, I noticed a bunch of groups, some sitting in the booths, sucking face, or others standing on the wall, doing the exact same. There weren't many ladies standing around, just loads of sweaty, and mighty hot bodies sliding and slithering around on the tiny dance floor, desperately trying to meet the timing, beat, and percussion of the music. However, throughout all of the people desperately trying, but also failing to succeed, there was one. There was one that was hitting the timing of the music perfectly, shaking her hips sexily, and attempting to bring attention to her, or take the attention off of the others. I smiled cheekily, biting the side of my bottom lip and admiring the way her hips moved and shook, side to side. The way her arms snaked above her head, and around her one shoulder, sequentially resting the top of her hand on the back of her head, moving it as her body slithered closer to the floor. I was met with her blue eyes, piercing into mine, her face stern with her lip being punctured by her white teeth. That was when it hit me. Her blue eyes were admiring my expression as she laughed and shook her head, starting to tip-toe away from the dance floor as her hair flipped across her shoulder.

"Here you go sir." An angelic, yet slightly masculine voice spoke, almost screaming, attempting to catch attention even over the sound of the amplified music. I turned around, grabbing the drink off of the counter, gripping my left hand around the slippery glass, and smiling slightly as it touched my lips, it all disappering down the slope and curvature of my throat. Gulping, I sat the empty and perspiring glass back on the bar, listening closely as it made a banging sound from impact. I pulled a hundred dollar bill out of my ripped, leather wallet and watched as the bartender's mouth dropped, and her hand immediately reached out and grabbed the green paper, a cheeky smile playing on her lips. I chuckled and ran away, stumbling slightly through the wood dance floor, the bright strobe lights, and the sweaty and smelly bodies moving erotically. I stopped in the middle of the dance floor, standing taller than normal and scanning my eyes across the vast space, trying to catch a glimpse of her mesmerizing eyes shining throughout the darkness. I started weaving through the increasing amount of bodies again, catching a glimpse of her hair as it exited through the door of the club. A few mumbled 'Excuse me's" were exchanged throughout my running rampage, but I'm sure the words weren't amplified enough for each person to hear. I felt a sudden relief when the red doorway appeared, the fresh London air hitting me like a ton of bricks as I set my foot on the pavement, seeing her blonde hair down move swiftly in the wind as she ran down the sidewalk with her leopard print heels in hand. I smirked triumphantly, but also cinched my eyebrows in anger, knowing that was a direct effect from the consumption of an immense amount of strong alcohol. Setting off towards her direction, I noticed every turn she made, the way she would look back to see if I was still chasing after her, her speed increasing after she noticed I was. I huffed, feeling aches start to succumb in my sides, and a curdling pit arise in my stomach. I was about to give up when I noticed she turned a corner, most likely not noticing I was still watching her every step. I smiled in triumph again, knowing I was finally able to catch up to her. Starting to reach my pace up to a jog, I checked every alleyway, trying to catch a glimpse of her disappearing figure, meeting nothing but brick walls.

I slowed my pace, knowing I was reaching the same alley where her body turned down, her pace slowing moments ago as she thought she was disappearing from my glance. Looking to the left, I smiled, seeing her blue eyes shine right into mine as she peeked from around the corner, searching for my approaching or disappearing figure. A small intake of air creeping inside her bright, red stained lips hanging agape as she saw me walking towards her location, turning the corner and seeing her eyes open wider than before.

"You know, you really can't keep running away from your problems." I spoke, inching closer to her still body as she leaned up against the wall, using it as a temporary support system. I felt her breathing increase, her eyes scanning for my face, noticing the anger rising to my facial expression. Her lips were impulsively shut tight, bright eyes staring holes through my cracked lips as her own moved with each word drawn out.

"Well I sure can try."