Excessive (Harry Styles Fanfiction)

Chapter 18.

Luckily for me, the rest of the night had been somewhat peaceful. Harry had left about an hour after the whole fight and has been out for basically the entire night, that meant I probably won't see him until tomorrow night or late after noon because of the hangover he will most certainly have. My dinner had consisted of a bowl of cereal and the other half of the banana I ate the day before, but that was really all I needed along with a cup of tea and the book I had been reading for the last few days.  

This is the only thing I can stand about being here, the peace I get almost everyday. When Harry isn't home, the house is quiet and extremely relaxing especially considering I usually need a place to read without being distracted like I was at my house. Although it is quiet here, I would most definitely go home in a heartbeat if I had the chance to.

I knew the moment that Harry walks in the door he would be completely drunk and from past experiences in these situations, I knew not to approach him at any time when he was drunk or hungover. The last time I had done that, he screamed at me and threatened to hurt my family if I didn't leave him alone, which I was fine with but if I didn't ask him, he would still yell at me, so it was pretty much a set up for failure.

The book that had been perched in my lap was beginning to become extremely old and tiring and all I wanted was to be able to enjoy my book. I placed the old book mark that I had taken from home in the page that I had finished and set it down on the table. As I looked around the room I searched through ideas in my mind of what to do.

My room had been cleaned and straightened up at least ten times that day. Each drawer had been cleaned and the clothes that I had packed away had been folded and re-folded just to keep me busy while Harry was still mad. Now, there was nothing to do except sit around and sleep and I was never one to be able to do that, especially if I was in the same house of someone who has the capability to murder people and get away with it.

I walked towards my bag and looked in the only object I had kept in there, my little journal. There wasn't much in there, a couple of quotes I saw when I went to New York with my mom and a few song lyrics that had been my favorite. I could never keep up with stuff like that, I always wanted to be able to write everyday but I would never make it more than three days of writing.

The book was in almost perfect condition and the binding of the book was barely even stretched, un-like many of the books I had owned. I ran my smooth fingers over the brown leather before picking it up out of my suitcase and bringing it closer to my face. I walked over to my bed and plopped onto the top of it and resting the journal before me.

Carefully, I opened the cover of the book to find and old picture I had taped into the book. It was a picture of Seth and Elliot at very young ages, in the bathroom with razors brought to their faces. Behind them, was my father with one in his own hand, he was teaching them how to shave. I chuckled at the picture, remember the day I took it.

After the photo had been snapped, they all groaned at the picture as I skipped downstairs to show my mom and for weeks after we had gotten it developed, it was hung up on the wall right next to the stove where me and my mother would tease them about it every single time they passed by it. I smiled at the memory before turning the page to find the quotes from my trip to New York had been scattered all over the lined paper in my cursive writing.

The quotes had been all the cheesy New York slogans that I had thought were some of the coolest things I had ever seen. My smile only widened at the picture of me and my mother standing in front of the Empire State Building with big smiles and I love New York shirts on our bodies. That was the best trip and only trip I had ever gone on.