Pressure [hs au]

15 - Audacity

Word Count: 4362

"There's an infestation in my mind's imagination - I hope they choke on smoke cause I'm smoking them out the basement -This is not rap, this is not hip-hop - Just another attempt to make the voices stop - Rapping to prove nothing, just writing to say something - 'Cause I wasn't the only one who wasn't rushing to say nothing - This doesn't mean I lost my dream - It's just right now I got a really crazy mind to clean..."

I jump awake instantly remembering I set an alarm last night, the familiar song scaring the shit out of me.

"Jesus Christ," I mutter, instantly turning the obnoxiously loud alarm off. I sit up in my far too comfortable bed, checking my phone. It was 9 AM on the dot. 

I force myself out of bed, having to lean on the railing as I groggily made my way down the stairs. I didn't have to be at the showcase until 11:30, so I had about 2 and a half hours to get ready and then be in the museum. 

That seems like enough time to get ready, but I feel even more sloth-like than usual. I barely got any sleep last night.

It's all a blur, really. So much happened, I don't think I've even begun to process what exactly went down. 

Harry kissed me.

And then I kissed him. 

And then he left. 

Not immediately of course, we talked a bit longer, but acted as if we both hadn't just kissed each other. 

Twice. 

I make a bowl of cereal, taking my usual seat on the couch and turn on the news. 

I never really was one to pay attention to everything going on in the world, but something about just having the news on as background noise made me feel as if I were back at home almost. 

Every morning for as long as I could remember, and every night as well, my Dad had the news on. Probably had something to do with the fact that he was a chief cop and all that.

I finish my breakfast quickly, immediately heading to take a shower. The water washes away the messy waves in my hair with ease, erasing any worries from my mind. 

I stand under the boiling water, staring at the white tiles on the wall for who knows how long. My stomach begins to churn in on itself, and I have to sit down, quickly changing the temperature to cold. 

The sudden change shocks me, but doesn't change the feeling deep in my stomach. I press my head against my knees, trying to relieve some of the pressure my abdomen was feeling, but to no avail the pain remains.  

I sit on the shower floor, squeezing my legs into my chest to try and cope, under icey cold water for several more minutes before it all just stops. I feel out of breath, and step out of the shower, wrapping my body in a towel. 

What was that?

I let out a deep breath, and leave my bathroom, utterly winded. 

The timing couldn't be more precise, as the second I step foot on the hardwood, I hear a soft knocking on my door. 

I open the door carefully, peaking my head around the corner, water dripping off the ends of my hair. My eyes widen as I see Harry, holding two large teas in his hand. Right on time, per usual.

"Peach green tea lemonade?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. He nods, handing me one, which I take graciously, careful not to touch his hand. 

"Thank you, Harry." He nods briskly and gives me a small smile in return. 

"Any time, Abby." I smile back, watching as he turns to let himself in his apartment.