How to get тнroυgн тнe darĸ- When there isn't any light.

Fireproof

{Fireproof🔥🚫}

Antagonist.

"An'tag(e)nist"

Noun.

1. A person who actively opposes or is hostile to someone or something.

That's what the iPhone dictionary tells you if you define the word. Basically this is classified as the villain in every story, tale, book, memoir, fanfiction, poem, etc.

In this case, though, I have to slightly modify it.

Harry's, as of right now- this very second, is himself.

His own self esteem,

his own mind,

him.

The "villain" I guess I sort of procured isn't as simple as 'The Joker' or 'medusa' or some black eyed, hell raised nightmare that you can simply use a special gun called the colt on or throw some Latin at and maybe say god while you're at it and everything's just as peachy as before.

No that's all wrong.

"Goddammit" I think I'm saying to myself as I watch Emma open her mouth for a few un-audible words thrown toward me.

I take off my midnight purple beats and throw them on my tiny bed along with my pencil and look over at her.

"I said: If you're trying to do your English homework I would suggest you didn't do it on Harry and, turn your music off its so damn loud I can hear what your listening to over here!" She says irritably.

"Sorry" I mumble, hitting pause on the screen, "do you even know about Harry?".

"What about him?" She says, innocently tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and continuing to write in a tore up composition notebook.

"I hate it when you play dumb"

"Maybe I'm not playing" she finishes saying before I chuck a blue pen at her shoulder.

"I know what you're doing." She says, suddenly expressionless.

I purse my lips and raise my eyebrow, waiting for her to explain.

She doesn't.

"What do you mean what I'm doing?"

"Procrastinating?" She says, as if I don't already know.

I don't.

"Get your stupid ass essay done and stop thinking about flower-field-frolicking with your little hair style because you and I are going out tonight." She states firmly.

"I can't." I say, my voice unwavering for once in my life,

"Harry's leaving for tour".

"I bet you can't come up with one reasonable explanation as to why you must run out there, ditching your friends yet again to say hello to your precious hubby".

"He's not my hubby." I say, becoming more aggravated every time she opens her mouth.

"And I bet I can come up with five. At least".

"$5 says you can't" she taunts.

"His nanny died. He got mobbed at his funeral for stupid people asking questions and wanting pictures and ATTENTION when he very clearly was upset about losing his grandmother. They are coming out with a new album that I've already pre-ordered but he promised he would tell me more about it in person. He's going for months which means when he gets back- yet another reason I should see him- after he'll have to go visit any family that he still keeps contact with resulting in not seeing him yet again for a few more months. That's five I think..."