Chapter 9

30 2 4
                                    


I wanna make you mine,
but that's hard to say.

****

Harry's POV

I can't believe I admitted my feelings to him that easily, a yawned escape my lips and I gently rub my eyes sitting up. I take a nap after Louis departed from my room and I lied about being sick as an excuse for not coming downstairs later to his party.

I text Niall to bring me some food when he finds the time before I die of starvation. It's almost 9 o'clock and I can hear the faint sound of the loud music from downstairs, I can feel the tremble of the beat too if I just press my bare feet on the floor harder.

I decided to play stack on my phone and sit on the coach instead of the bed. I hope Niall receives my text because I can feel my stomach grumbling against my skin.

The door swings open abruptly that I drop my phone on the carpet, thankfully. Niall came stumbling into the room with a red cup on his hands and not what I'm expecting.

"Where's my food?" I asked, guiding him towards the couch, and then I shut the door and lock it behind me.

"What food?" He asks confused. His eyes were already bloodshot, but he has a good alcohol tolerance and can drink whatever he wants as long as he still can. "I texted you Ni," I answered, crossing my arms while looking down at him. He reaches for his phone in his pocket, checking my text.

"Yeah, I've read it." He says.

"I'm starving," I groaned.

"Oh, sorry, it slipped my mind, I'll get you something now, yeah?" I dumbly nod my head at him, watching him scurries to his feet as he shut the door behind him. He left the red cup on the floor and his phone is lying safely on the armrest of the couch, he probably forgot to slipped it back on his pockets, I scrunched my nose as the strong smell of vodka or gin hits my nostrils. I place it back on the floor so Niall can finish it up when he came back with my precious food.

I glanced at my phone and it shows 10:45 pm. I'm pacing back and forth around the room waiting for Niall's arrival, he's been gone for almost two damn hours and I can't even call him because he left his phone on the couch and every time I glanced at it I swear the damn thing is mocking me.

I need to eat but I can't bring myself to go downstairs, I can't face the dancing colors of the lights that makes me dizzy and the strong smell of alcohol and a crowd of sweaty body of drunk teenagers, or maybe I really can, I inhale at the thought. I can go down there to grab some food on Louis' fridge then sprint back here. I can do it. No one will notice me.

I unlocked the door and stepped out of the room for the first time tonight. The loud music was deafening and I can feel the beat of the speakers pounding on my chest, literally. I can feel the headache that these people are going to have in the morning when they woke up.

The hallway was clear upstairs, but there's a lot of bodies laying or sitting on the stairs, making me struggle with my life trying not to step on any of them. Fuck. I thought as my foot knocked a red cup that has a beer on it, it spills and flows down on the steps making a few girls stand up, clearing my way down. Fantastic, I thought.

"Watch your step!" the girl who I assume is the owner of the cup exclaims giving me a death glare. "Sorry," I say not clearly fazed with the glares she's giving me, I continue my journey towards the kitchen.

"Harry?" I turn around to see a smiling Louis. He caught my wrist wrapping his fingers around it, then he gently drags me with him in the kitchen, thankfully.

your touch my comfortWhere stories live. Discover now