DESTITUTE || HS ✔️

three

Progressively, Harry's mind was looming away from the darkness that had started to conquer his mind six years ago. He started to be the one spooning me, which strangely as it sounds, was great. His eyes would suddenly become more vibrant, and every time I said that I would go out and ask him to come with me, he would agree, and Harry never came out of the house unless I forced and dragged his ass to go with me.

The dark, luring circles under his eyes were becoming more invisible and he was getting more than enough sleep. Our late night, two in the morning conversations weren't becoming as in depth as they used to be, but they became more playful and adventurous. Orange juice and cranberry juice would always be the first topic of the conversation due to both of us noticing the beverages in our hand and scowling at one another.

There was one night though, one night when we had thought about the first time we had both got insanely drunk together, before Harry's accident. We both sat with each other's enemy juices in hand, our eyes both gazing at one another, and our hands sliding very closely towards each other. Harry had muttered the words first when his other hand, the one with the cross tattoo lying between his thumb and pointer finger, slightly brushed through his tousled curls from his bed head.

"Do you remember that one time when you had that terrible day at work, and then you came home early?" Harry mutters and brings up the mug of orange juice for his lips to drink the liquid.

"There's been many terrible days of when I come home early," I copy his actions and fiddle with the silver ring on my middle finger out of boredom. Even though it is two in the morning, and my mind feels like utter shit, I know there is no way that I am going to bed because I am already wide awake from this conversation with Harry.

"Very true," he mutters under his breath and sets down the mug with his free hand. Our hands seem to be slowly inching closer and closer, as if they are magnetic, but it is in a very slow manner. "I meant the day of when you came home and suggested the idea of us both getting completely wasted to just used the day away, that was exactly what you had said."

"Oh, I do remember that now. It had been such a tough day and my boss literally had enough with me, so he let me go. Not like fired, but I don't even know why the hell he did it."

"I don't either, but I am slightly glad that he did. It was one hell of a night and that was one of the times that I have ever had the best fun in my life, even though I was completely wasted," a small smile ghosts over his lips as his hands retract from my lifeless one that was laying on the counter, getting very close to his if I say so myself, and starts to meddle with the silver ring on his middle finger.

"Harry, you were beyond wasted, I remember every single damn thing. I was nowhere close to it, and it's strange because I thought I was the one that had a long day," the ending comes out as a small mutter and we both chuckle in unison at my words because it was the absolute truth. "Can you even remember what you did?"

He hesitates and his green eyes meet mine once again, and we were in the same position as we were from the beginning. "I don't believe so, actually, except for the large hangover consuming the burned cells of my mind."

"Are you trying to act like a poet or are you truly speaking the truth?" I reply, laughing at Harry's pissed off face. His face has suddenly contorted into a mixture of playful anger and annoyance, but it is actually the truth. Harry never speaks that way unless he is in the midst of his thoughts in terrible positions.

"No, it's just the truth."

I didn't believe him, honestly. The words that would just splutter out of his mouth at random times was because of the poison running through his veins, not because they just sparked through his mind so he said them through his rosy lips. No, that was not Harry, but at unexpected moments with alcohol, that was Harry Styles.