"This seat taken?" I looked up to see who was talking to me. It was Liam, gesturing to the metal chair next to me and staring with brown eyes rimmed with red. Whether it was from crying or the pot he would smoke when he was nervous, I didn't know. But I guessed it was from crying since he didn't smell like weed. I shrugged indifferently. I really wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone, but I knew that if anyone knew what I was going through, it was Liam. I went back to staring off into space as I heard him nestle into the chair. "How you holding up?"
I chuckled humorlessly and glanced back at the boy. "As good as I can, I guess. How bout you?"
Liam shook his head and pursed his lips. "It just doesn't feel real," I nodded slowly in agreement. "I just feel like we could've stopped her, you know?"
Liam was the only other person besides myself who knew what Lily had been going through. Hearing him voice what I'd been thinking since that day was difficult, like hearing a terrible song that you still knew all the words to.
"Nah," I responded quietly. "I mean, you were dating Lily. You knew her. When she got an idea in her head, there was no stopping her. She used to do that all the time. She would think of something to do if we were bored, and wouldn't quit until we had done it." I was dangerously close to tears and I hated the way I sounded so weak. I shook my head. "Nah, there was no stopping her."
It was silent for a moment as I studied my hands, forcing the tears back. I refused to let them fall.
"Can I ask you something?" he asked me. I looked at him. He was dressed in a black button-up shirt with a skinny black tie. His fingers tapped nervously on the soft fabric of his black slacks. His eyebrows were scrunched together and his eyes gleamed, confirming my suspicion that it wasn't weed making his eyes red. I was just thankful that he wasn't shutting me out; if there was ever a time we needed each other, it was now. I felt marginally better that he was here because he was the only other person who truly knew Lily. He was quiet for another minute before saying, "Do you think she was happy? I mean, not in life. But . . . but right before. Do you think she felt happy?"
My jaw ached just like it always did when I was on the verge of tears. I sighed and dropped my head. I wished I could've said no, that she was distraught at the thought of leaving all of us behind. That she felt guilty and almost didn't do it. Because how could she do this to me and Liam? How could she just . . .just leave? How could she just hurt us?
And then I realized something. It was because she was hurting. She was hurting way more than we were right now, and she felt it on a daily basis. So, I said the only thing I could. The truth. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."
I think that was too much for him to hear, even though I was certain he already knew, because that's when he broke down. His whole frame shook as he buried his head in his hands. Thankfully, most of the family and distant friends had left at this point, so it was just us and a few others. The ones that were still here looked on pitifully, but I glared at them, making sure they gave him some privacy.
I held onto him, letting him know I was there, which I think he was grateful for. I didn't try to tell him that it was going to get better, or that he would find someone else, or that Lily lived a "great life", because I honestly didn't know if any of that was true. I think he was grateful for that, too. And after he stopped crying, we just sat. We didn't talk, we didn't try to cheer each other up, we didn't even look at each other. We just enjoyed each other's misery, because swimming in each other's sadness was better than drowning in your own.
I bolted up in bed, gasping. Breathing hard, I looked around, relieved to see that I was back in my bedroom. I put my hand over my beating heart. I used to get those dreams, er, technically memories, all the time, but it's been a while since my last one. I guess it was just the time of year.
Grabbing my phone off of the charger, I padded out of my room quietly and into the kitchen to cook up some breakfast for me and Harry, who apparently was still asleep. I didn't blame him. He seemed to have had a crazy night last night. As I grabbed some pancake mix out of the cabinet and heated up the grittle, I texted Niall to make sure he had gotten on his plane to New York for the VMA's alright. Harry and I were leaving tonight at around four, so we had a while.
As the smell of cooking pancakes grew stronger and stronger, I heard Harry stumble out of his room.
"Morning, Sunshine!" I said extra loud, knowing for a fact he must've had a monster hangover.
"Where am I?" Harry moaned, his voice raspy. He looked in my general direction and frowned. "And who are you?"
I decided to have a little fun with him. Doing the best Southern accent I could, I said, "Oh, honey, you don't remember? We eloped last night! Got married down at that adorable 'lil church down town. We just had a lovely time!"
Harry started to panic. "Wait, what? I got married?!"
I stifled a laugh. "Oh, yes! Wonderful little ceremony, really. You bought me the most expensive ring in the whole town!"
"Wait a second," Harry murmured, squinting his eyes at me as I flipped the pancakes. "Ash?"
I laughed. "Whaaaat? Nooooo. Who's this Ash person?"
Harry rolled his eyes and smirked. "Nice try. But seriously. What am I doing here?" His eyes went wide for a moment. "Wait, we didn't . . ."
"Ew, no!" I looked at him, disgusted. "You called me at, like, three, totally shit-faced, and asked me to come pick you up. I did, but I didn't want to drive all the way back to your house, especially at that ungodly hour. You just slept in the spare room."
"Oh," Harry said, a relieved expression crossing his face. I raised my eyebrows and nodded, finishing up the last pancake. I slid it onto a plate, poured a cup of coffee I had brewed up, grabbed two Tylenol and handed it all to Harry. He eagerly grabbed it all and sat down at the table. I picked up my pancakes and joined him. "I mean, it wouldn't have been terrible if we had. I've always wanted to do it with a business woman."
I almost choked on my pancakes. It was way too early to deal with this. "You're horrible."
"Not in bed."
I rolled my eyes as he smirked at his own joke. "Mr. Styles, need I remind you that I'm--"
"My manager, yeah, yeah, I know. You've said it a million times," he said, interupting me.
"That apparently doesn't stop you from pretty much sexually assaulting me."
"Oh, I could show you what real sexual assault is."
"Alright, I'm done," I said, throwing my hands and giving up on trying to get through breakfast without throwing up from Harry's nasty comments. I pushed my plate aside, stood up, and glared at him. I bent down so that my eyes were level with his as he remained in his chair. "If you ever talk to me that way again, I will personally hunt you down and--"
Harry cut me off by doing the last thing I expected him to do. He kissed me.
His lips tasted like syrup and whiskey, which really was a horrible combination. He reeked, as if he hadn't showered in days. His eyes were closed, and I wondered if the alcohol just hadn't gotten out of his system yet.
It wasn't a magical first kiss. In fact, I was in such a state of shock, I never even closed my eyes. As soon as I realized what he was doing, I yanked away, and he looked just as surprised as I was. My heart was beating like crazy. "That never happened," I squeaked. Harry didn't say anything; he just stared at me, his eyes wide with wonder, or fear, or shock, or something. I quickly turned around and briskly walked to my bathroom to take a shower. What the actual hell had just happened?