-HARRY POV-
Night hours go a lot slower when you want to fade away. Sometimes, the voices taunt me.
"you wanted her to die"
"it's your fault"
"you should've died, not her"
"you're nothing"
I shake my head at the sound of them. No, they're lying. I turn my head at check the time on my small digital clock, the square numbers say it's 4:30 am. They don't literally say it, but you know what I mean. It hasn't gotten any better since the incident, if not worse. Dad tries to help sometimes but it just ends up making me feel shitter, makes me question if the voices are actually true. I hope not, but the fact that I question that says a lot. I can't take this anymore. Suddenly, I start sobbing into my pillow, trying to make as little noise as possible so at least my parents think I'm sane enough to not take me to a fucking therapist, I don't need one. Or at least for them not to hear me and feel shittier than I do.
"Why?" I whisper to myself inbetween sobs, again and again until it sounds weird to my mouth but still holds complete meaning. The voices have disappeared, for now at least, and all that remains is silence. When I didn't think I could feel any lonelier, I did.
******************************
I wake up with a gasp, the sheets are a goddamn mess. I kick them off and run my fingers through my hair. I think I had way too much to drink last night, also known as a few hours ago. I need to stop this fucking silence, it's aggravating. I reach for my phone on my bed-side table, I notice my hands are slightly trembling. God knows why, I feel fine... sort of. I scroll through my contacts. Alex, Ben, Charlie, Chloe, Dave... Liam, Lilah, Louis, Mark... wait.
Lilah.
I press call and pray to god that she answers, she probably won't. It rings a what seems like an infinite amount of times until it goes to voicemail.
"Hi, this is Lilah I'm not here right now, please leave a message"
Goddamnit. I hang up and throw the phone across the room, it doesn't make a loud enough sound like I was expecting. What am I doing? I relax back down into the pillows and take a deep breath through my nose. I stare at my black bed frame, then to my cream coloured walls, although it's hard to distinguish their colour in the dark. Cream, it's such a pretentious colour, it's fucking white. Who the hell gave names to things? Who invented them? Who can just make up a fucking word? Who does Shakespeare think he is, or was? Why would you make a word up? Why? Why? The questions replays again and again in my head and everything has gone from somewhat okay to exasperating. I need some sleep. What time is it? I get up and walk over to my phone that's laying face down on the floor. I pick it up and check the time. 2 am. I seriously don't remember getting into bed. I try to retrieve the memory but I can't. Maybe I should try calling Lilah again.
The rings seem less infinite this time before it goes to voice mail again, but it's nice to hear her voice even if it's just a recording. I decide to leave a message this time. "Hey um..." I voice barely louder than a whisper "I'm... fuck I don't know. I just want someone to talk to" My voice crack on those last two words "I was wondering if you could come over, like to my house, flat, I don't know. I do know it's like late and shit but yeah it would be nice and I'd probably not so feel, fuck I mean feel not so... yeah, I'd feel not so weird. Okay I don't know just call me when you hear this. Oh yeah, this is Harry by the way" I finish my message and press the button.
How to make yourself sound like a drunk idiot in 20 seconds are less by Harry Styles also known as wow I'm a fucking idiot.
She's not gonna call back, I just know it. She's probably just gonna ask me about it next time she sees me, if she bothers at all. I lie back down on the matress and stare at my bed frame again, hell it's so dark I don't even know what I'm looking at anymore. So many thoughts are rushing through my mind right now, not that they're serious or anything, just thoughts. Maybe I should just get back to sleep because right now, I feel insane, I really do.
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Good Intentions - Harry Styles Fanfic
Fiksi Penggemar*** A.N: Okay so, I wrote this story when I was very young, and now, over 3 years later, I realise that the story is definitely not as good as I thought it was (in fact it's pretty bad). Why do I say this? Because if any of you read this and think "...
