New York [harry styles au]

25

25.
It swiftly became March and the promise of rebirth moved along with the soft breeze of Spring. Angelina and I were still inhabiting the apartment, living on leftover food from the fridge and aiming to hydrate ourselves, though doing the opposite, with alcohol. I was sprawled out on Harry's bed on the morning of the 27th. I remember the day because the phone ringing loudly woke us both up, the bedroom door being left open after our previous drunken night and Angelina groaned loudly before standing from her bed on the sofa. My body didn't move from its star position, my legs and arms spread out, as Angelina answered the phone.

"Hello." She answered. "Yes. Oh, hello. How are you doing?.. Happy Birthday. How old are you now? Jeez, that's old... I'll tell her, yeah, sounds like a plan... Okay, bye. Yes, bye, yes of course... Okay, bye!"

She returned the phone to the stand with a slam and her feet padded into my room. A large grin spread on her face at the sight of me before she leaped onto the edge of the bed.

"That was Beatrix." She said.

"Oh, yeah?"

"It's her birthday."

"What?"

"Yeah, she's 27."

"Shit. She's going to be pissed that we forgot."

"No, she sounded fine with it. She probably expected me to forget, you can just pretend that you remembered." She explained and I nodded.

"How do you feel?"

"Oh, you know, the usual – like shit."

"I get you."

"Do you?"

"Yeah, because I feel the same way."

"Ha." She put her hand against her face and laid her head against the mattress.

"We need to give her a gift."

"Oh, crap. I forgot about that. Is it acceptable not to give her a gift? It's 1973 after all, everyone is broke." I laughed at her words.

"We can't do that, Angelina."

"Shit okay, I'll go look in the kitchen for something." She stood and left the room, I could hear her opening the cupboards and her hand rummaging through nearly empty packets of pasta. I stood to my feet and followed the noise.

"We really need to get some money soon. We're running out of food." I warn.

"We rarely eat anyway." She replies, her hand entering another cupboard.

"A doctor would have a heart attack if they saw us." I leant against the counter, my fingers twirling my dark hair in thought.

"Definitely." She stretched further, "Bingo!" Her hand revealed a full bottle of whiskey.

"Does whiskey go out of date?"

"Who cares?" She placed it onto the counter before her with care.

"We can't poison our friend, Angelina."

"Maybe in today's society, that wouldn't be a bad idea. Put her out of her misery."

Silence.

"That was dark, Angelina, even for you." I moved over to her.

"I guess it was." I wrapped my arms around her for a friendly hug.

"Let's keep the optimism today, at least for Beatrix."

"Yeah."

"What is she doing for her birthday?" I asked, a dull ache forming in the pit of my stomach at the fact that I had rarely been out of the apartment for a month and ached to be held in Harry's arms again.