Teeth [Harry Styles Fanfiction]

Chapter Thirty Four

"Damn it," I cursed, throwing my cellphone on the bed. Again, the call was forward to her voicemail. At least I could hear her soft voice leaving a message for her callers. It was sad but it made me smile because that would be the only time I'd hear her voice. It's been a week since she has found out; a week since she's talked to me. I'm almost positive that I had filled up her mailbox but I didn't care; I needed to talk to her. It was obvious that she wanted nothing more to do with me and I understood that… I guess.

With an annoyed groan, I rubbed my temples and lay back on my bed. My eyes scanned my dark room, only being able to see the outlines of my work. It's been months since I've drawn anything. The inspiration was off and now it was just completely dead. Things weren't like this before - I had a reason to draw and now - nothing.

   She was my reason for everything.

The thoughts of her and what we've been through had been teasing me for days and I couldn't take it. The alcohol was nice though; it made me remember how things were before I met her. I drank and I drank - I drank so much to the point where I thought I had been flying and you know what? It was bliss.

Although I did not have her, I had my substances. At least there was something there for me.

Zayn stopped calling me after missing eight of his calls and honestly, I don't blame him. Being alone was something that did me good. Des has been gone all week and didn't tell me where he went. I'm starting to think he's gone for good and I don't care. At least I have this piece of shit dump of a flat all to myself. It's depressing atmosphere apparently fitted me.

Getting out of bed, I dragged myself through the piles of rubbish on my floor and walked into the kitchen. The fridge was empty but I wasn't hungry, my supply of 'food' was stored inside. Grabbing a beer, I walked into the living room and popped it open with my bare hands; a skill that I've picked up when I was sixteen. Letting out a sigh, I took a large swig while my eyes cringed from the strong taste of the alcohol. It burned and tickled my tongue all at the same time but I had been used to it. After so many years, you get used to the burn and you actually like it.

   There was nothing on the Telly so I didn't find it necessary to even keep it on. I sat alone in my shit apartment with no sound but my own beating heart and the shouts of the crack heads down the block. My eyes were a bloodshot red and my head was clogged with the throbbing pain. The hangover was kicking in but luckily, I'm going to be chugging down another six-pack. I'm glad that I was alone because all of this alcohol was all mine.

  With one more gulp, I hadn't even noticed that I had finished the whole bottle. Tossing it carelessly aside, I heard the glass shatter on the floor but paid no attention to it. The next bottle was gone, then the next and the next until I started seeing stars. A sloppy smile was at my lips now and it was a hard effort to keep my head straight without it falling from side to side. My body was glued to the cushion behind me and I let out a dry, deep chuckle.

   Honestly, my thoughts were all over the place. I didn't care about what was going on around me. I couldn't even remember the last time I had felt this good. This was bliss - feeling absolutely nothing at all. The more alcohol I drank, the less I thought about her.

   The rest of the night was spent alone, glued to the couch and surrounded by tossed cans and bottles of alcohol. I passed out at around four in the morning and woke up the next day by the sound of my alarm. "What the fuck…" I groaned deeply, my voice not being adjusted yet. Slowly opening my eyes, I looked at the screen and noticed the notification pop-up. It read, "7 months with Jay :)"

  When I saw the little reminder that I had wrote myself, I felt sick and threw my phone across the room. Today would have been our 7th month anniversary. That sickness in my gut only spread throughout my body and I fell back into my chair, shuttering my eyes closed. I didn't want to think about today because I already knew how painful it would be. Today was supposed to be our day.