the cool side of the pillow {styles au}

twenty one

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Songs for this chapter:

Beside You - 5 Seconds of Summer

Weak - JoJo

Everything Has Changed - Taylor Swift & Ed Sheeran

Harry's POV:

My stomach drops because, well, this is the absolute last thing I needed after the night I had. I left my drunk mother puking on the living room floor for my drunk girlfriend, who, if I'm not mistaken, almost just called me her exes name. What the fuck?

"Expecting someone else?" I ask cooly, taking two large steps backwards.

Cleo's bloodshot eyes study my face as she leans against the counter, "No."

I take her answer with a curt nod, backing up even more, ready to run for the door. She notices my movements and tries to match them, although she stumbles every two steps. Even though I could walk away, I don't; I let her come to me, because I'm weak. Weak for her. Her arms wind around my neck, the cup still dangling from her fingertips. My hands find perch on her hips, settling there, as she smiles lazily up at me.

Her fingers move into my curls and she chuckles, "You need a haircut."

My jaw tightens, "I'll take that into consideration, thanks."

"Someone's testy," she teases, voice lilting with amusement.

I'm finding it hard to stand here and not throw my questions at her or walk away. The way she's acting is making the latter more and more appealing, but she's intoxicated so I know not to take anything she's saying or doing too seriously. I want to know why she's drunk more than anything, what pushed her to turn to the bottle. But asking her right now would be pointless, so I simply stand there with her wrapped around me, hoping this nightmare of an evening will come to an end soon.

"You're being quiet, babe."

I shrug, "Rough night."

The cloud of alcohol that is holding my girl hostage lifts for just one second and concern flashes in those baby blues of hers, "What happened?"

"Doesn't matter," I say with a shake of my head.

"It does to me." The care she's exuding would be touching if her words weren't slurring and I wasn't holding up the entirety of her body weight.

"Just drop it."

She huffs, "Whatever, Harry. It's not like I actually expected you to open up and share anything with me."

And that's when I separate myself from her because is she serious? Just a few days ago, I told her about my brother - not everything, but more than I've ever told anyone else. And now she's standing here throwing it back in my face. And that's a bit hypocritical seeing as she's the one who hasn't told me a damn thing about that ex boyfriend of hers, refuses even.

I back toward the entrance to her house, shaking my head vigorously, "I'll see you later."

She stumbles toward me, dropping the cup and spilling it's contents, "Harry, I'm sorry. Please don't go."

"Give me one reason to stay."

Her eyes water and no, no, no that's not fair! She can't do that to me; she knows I can't stand to see her cry. I stop once I've reached the door, hand on the knob, waiting for her to say something, anything. All she has to do is say the word and I won't go. But she remains silent, tears now running down her face. She's stopped moving too, now standing near the foot of the stairs.