Perspective

Chapter Fifty Seven.

"I wish somebody would've told me

That I'd end up so caught up in need of your demonsThat I'd be lost without you leading me astrayGuess I'm such a fucking fool for the way that you caught me."

Song: Fade- Lewis Capaldi

A/N: This is a double update, read chapter 56 if you haven't first, if you haven't already.

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I stop dead at the bushes near my front door, staring down at the body slumped sitting up against the blue door with absolutely no idea what the fuck is going on.

"Harry."

I repeat myself again, blinking to make sure I'm not hallucinating and my emotions sling shot from confusion, to worry then all the way to panic and back around again.

His head is hung down, with his hair covering his face and his long legs are splayed out straight in front of him with his arms folded over his chest.

He looks dead.

Jesus fuck, please don't be dead.

The half a second that the thought entered my mind, that had my stomach trying to claw out of my throat is wiped away when i hear him make a tired groan, and he lifts his head to let it roll back against the door and looked at me with his eyes barely open.

His nose and cheeks are flushed from the chilling weather, and his hair is even more of an unruly mess than usual.

"Oh - so you are alive. That's good to know." His words are slow, and a bit slurred and it's blatantly obvious he's totally hammered.

My brows crease together, while I scrunch my nose for a second wondering what he's on about. Shouldn't I be the one saying that to him?

"What are you doing here?" I'm still staring at him like I've lost my mind and I'm seeing things that aren't there because this was the last thing I expected when I came home.

"How was your date?" Is all he asks back, lifting his brows with his eyes still heavy, and he bends his leg up to rest his arm on his knee.

I close my eyes, and exhale a slow calming breath as I clenched my jaw. I'm still worried about him, but now I'm back at wanting to slap him like I used to. A lot harder as well.

"Harry just tell me what you're doing here."

"Answer my question and I'll answer yours - wasn't that always our deal, Heartbreaker?" he asks, tilting his head with a hiccup that makes his head jump and hit against the door.

I bite down hard on my cheek, and take another slow breath. I'm getting so irritated and somehow he still managed to make my heart ache with that question; not to mention the irony in the way that nickname shatters my heart now.

"Harry. Tell me why you're at my front door" I warn him trying to keep my voice quiet, and look over my shoulder to see exactly what I thought I would. Mrs Fullerton's light on next door and a figure not-so-inconspicuously peeping out of the curtain.

This is just fan-fucking-tastic.

Harry shrugs like he doesn't know the answer and asks again, "How was your date?"

I run my hand through the front of my hair to avoid wanting to rip it out, shaking my head before I snap at him, "It wasn't a date. Sam is my friend. And it was fine - now hurry up and tell me what you're doing here."