Muse (h.s.)

chapter two

The cab slowly reared up to my flat as I saw James waiting for me at the curb. I thank the driver and slowly walk up to James, who is standing with a warm blanket to wrap around my shoulders.

James and I have been roommates since our first semester of college, him studying Business Administration and me, Composition. While we've had a few roll-arounds in the sheets, for the most part, our relationship has stayed relatively platonic.

He looked at me pensively, wondering if my earlier declaration was just in the spur of the moment. He slowly wrapped his arm around my shoulder as he placed the blanket around me and started walking me into our building.

The pavement was glistening and reflected the street lights as a drizzle fell upon us, making the night increasingly colder. Harry's last show was at home, the city lights welcoming me once again.

The elevator ride was tense, to say the least. We both stared at the ground, a million questions filling the tiny room as I heard the wheels in James' head turn. Finally, as the elevator hit our floor, James peeled back the metal gate to our room and finally released us from the silence.

"Were you serious earlier? Or just trying to shut me up?"

I thought for a second, "I am serious," my hands moved around as I spoke, "Now is the perfect time to quit. The tour is over, Harry will have a few months to find another over-ambitious songwriter to abuse before he needs to start writing again."

While I sounded confident, I wasn't so sure. Would anyone be willing to put up with Harry at the state he was in? Was I really willing to leave my coworker of a few years at the lowest place of his sobriety?

However, as I pondered my intentions, James scoffed, "You must be fucking with me. You are ninety percent of his success. Without you, he can't write a song to save his life."

"He wasn't always like this, you know. He was amazing, so creative, and knew just what he wanted with every song we worked on." I looked off and thought about better times.

James snapped me out of it. "Yes, that was a while ago though. It's time you teach him a lesson. Start looking for other jobs now, and make him suffer. Maybe, just maybe, he'll treat the next one a little better."

I nodded slowly. In our kitchen, I sat on the kitchen island and traced the marble's patterns with my hand. James sat up next to me, and I put my head on his shoulder as he placed his head on top of mine.

"I'm scared. What if I can't find another job?" I kicked my feet back and forth subconsciously, feeling jittery.

"I know, Danny." James didn't say much else, his hands combed through my hair passively, comforting me.

-

A few hours later, as I got in bed, my phone dinged.

Daniella. Come pick me up now, my regular bar. H.

I paced around my room for a while, debating what to say to Harry, when to say it, how to approach it, just letting my methodical and anxious tendencies take over as I began over-planning.

James had stopped in my room a few times, just raising his bong to me with a inviting smile, however, while I am never the one to decline a free party, the last thing I wanted right now was to be inhibited. I waved him off with a smile, promising free time with him tomorrow. He smiled back the final time, then said he was gonna head off to a fling's house for a sleepover.

James gave me a wink as he closed the door behind him.

With James gone, I finally resorted back to planning my response to Harry.

My arms tingled with anxiety. I had no idea what to say. I let my fingers dance around the screen, twiddling my thumbs as various ideas came into my head.

Finally, I smirked and responded.

No.

There was no response for a while. Then, the phone calls started pouring in, rapidly one after the other.

I stared at my phone, his contact picture one of the two of us from when we just started working together. His long hair fell in waves around his shoulders as he smiled widely at the camera, me thrown over his shoulder and laughing.

I sighed. Then, turned my phone on silent and fell asleep.

-

I woke up abruptly. There was banging on my door. I shot up in bed, debating on calling James.

You're a big girl, Danny. Just look through the peephole, they don't have the keys to get in.

I stood up slowly and took a few breaths. The knocking became insistent as my fear began rising.

I creeped up to the door, and stood up my tiptoes and looked through the peephole.

Harry.

"Harry," I began timidly, "what do you want?"

"Let me in." He slurred.

Against my better judgement, I opened the door and slide the metal gate to the side. One of Harry's hands curled around the door frame as he stalked in. His eyes were clouded and I was sure he was riding on a high of most likely a large mix of drugs.

"Daniella. Why did you ignore me?" He leaned himself against the wall next to my door. His eyes were dilated, yet hazy.

"My job description does not involve picking you up from a bar." Despite my growing anxiety, my voice is firm and Harry's eyes widen. His whole frame was slouched up against my wall and I felt bad for him for a moment.

He looked at me for a long beat, and like he does with his fans, it felt like he was staring into my soul. He waved his hand dismissively, scowling as he punctuates the air with each word out of his mouth, "When did you become concerned with the activities outlined in your job description?"

I stare back. He didn't avert his gaze. I debate between a thousand answers but settle on the simplest, "When I decided to quit."

-

Hello! If you're reading this, throw me a vote to let me know if this is just a waste of my time. This isn't my favorite chapter in the world but I am just trying to build the storyline.