Antisocial [h.s]

[twenty two]

My head pounded and my mouth tasted like skunk piss. Fuck.

Flashbacks of drinking with Zayn, making that list and then calling Harry and him coming came to mind and I groaned.

I was lying on a hard surface that was surprisingly warm and comfortable, but it wasn't totally flat so I wasn't on the ground. Wait, oh fuck, Harry.

I opened my eyes, cringing at the light but I pushed myself up, seeing a conscious Harry who tiredly looked up at me. I rolled off of him to the opposite side of the bed, just staring at the ceiling awkwardly as my head pounded away. God, now I know what a hangover feels like.

"So, I vaguely remember you coming over, what stupid shit did I end up doing or saying?" I asked, trying to get it out of the way.

"Well, you refused to put clothes on,'' shit. "You were sort of just talking nonsense. You mentioned missng me,'' true. "You spoke of a list of things you want to do before you die while we watched Netflix and then because of one thing on the list you tried to kiss me so I'd be your first, I made sure you didn't and that we'd talk about it once you're sober,'' I groaned and covered my eyes with my palms. "And after I convinced you to not kiss me whilst you're drunk, we cuddled and you talked about your nightmares..." No. "You confessed something, too, and you uh, you had a meltdown.''

"Wh-What did I confess?"

"Um, you said your dad used to touch you and uh, that's why you don't like to be touched much now.''

No. No, I couldn't have. No way.

"I-I guess I talk bullshit when I'm drunk,'' I tried to play it off as a lie, a stupid joke, but he knew, he fucking knew.

"Blake..." He spoke cautiously and I shook my head.

"I've never told anyone,'' my voice cracked and I dropped my arms to my sides, staring at the ceiling as the tears welled in my eyes. "Liam never knew, my therapist never knew, hell, even Auntie Karen never knew, none of them know but you do just because I was fucking stupid enough to drink my feelings away like my father." The tears fell down the side of my face, blurring my vision. "I'm so fucking stupid!"

"Blake, stop,'' he sat up and I just shook my head.

"Don't even, Harry, just don't! I'm an idiot! I'm a fucking careless idiot! Nobody was supposed to know! No one! And I just blurted it out to you! Now you know why I'm so fucked up! You know I'm fucked up and now you know why!" I sat up, shouting at him as my tears fell.

"Blake, it wasn't your fault. Your dad had some issues and he dealt with them in unhealthy ways, it's not your fault. You were vulnerable and you couldn't stop him,''

"I-I could've, though. I-I could have-have said something.''

"Blake, anyone in that situation would have found it difficult to speak up, you were afraid and I'm sure you didn't want your dad to be mad at you or for him to be in trouble."

I just shook my head as my tears continued to fall. I wrapped my arms around Harry's waist and rested my head on Harry's chest, I knelt on either side of his waist and his arms wrapped around my back. His hand gently circled my back.

I can't believe I told him. I can't believe it.

"Do you want to wag classes today? Just hangout? Hangovers and lectures don't go well together,'' Harry chuckled and I nodded, sniffling.

I pulled my head away from his chest and groaned. "How many times am I going to ruin your shirt with tears?" I asked pathetically, touching the saturation I had made.