One Word | H.S.

Chapter Nineteen

AN: Enjoy this calm. Relish in it before the storm.

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Electricity.

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Picture frames are Satan squares and no one can tell me different.

I've been attempting to re-decorate, add a little color to the boring, monotonous walls that I sadly my own. My fingers are coated in blood, my hammering skills lacking as I try to hang various photos of my friends and I.

I swear, if I have to stare at the same photo of ducks, I'm going to completely lose my mind.

Like, completely. More than I already have. Multiply the bathroom incident by twenty.

After the incident, Auggie has been by my side constantly. He's been walking out of his room more than usual, peering his head through a cracked door to ensure that I was okay.

Nothing pained me more than seeing his face after walking out from the restroom. His eyes were bloodshot, yet his cheeks were dry.

Neither of us want to see the other hurt, so I plastered the largest grin on my face, acting as though nothing even happened.

This is why you were the understudy for Romeo. You can't act for shit.

Harry and I hardly spoke, an occasional glance being the only thing that was exchanged. It was clear that both of our statements weighed heavy, the fighting staying minimal as a result.

I can't help but feel like shit, asking him about something so personal. Sure, I was only reiterating his words, but it felt as though I re-opened a wound.

Or, I just found an already bleeding wound that hadn't caught my eye before.

So, as a result, I've been flipping my apartment, working to make it appear attractive.

This is how I cope now; Vodka is so last year.

I grip the beer bottle in my left hand, my right occupied with the white-washed wood. Hope Sandoval's hypnotizing voice sounds through the apartment, the melody alone sending me into an intoxicated trance.

Get some help. Jesus.

The contents pour into my mouth, my stance faltering as the spring-less couch does nothing but screw with my balance. My leg buckles under me slightly, my arms beginning to flail as the picture frame drops from my grasp, "Fuck's sake!" I yell out, my body tumbling as the beer flies through the air.

I hear the sound of a door fly open, my little brother rushing to my side, "What's wrong? Are you okay?" He panics, a sinking feeling stinging me like a wasp as I stare to him with sorrowful eyes.

I'm supposed to be taking care of him, not the other way around.

My lips purse, a small smile forming as I look away, "Just fell Bubs, I'm okay," I sit up on my forearms, Auggie's arm on the small of my back as he helps me up.

Ever felt the drop of a rollercoaster? That's what this feels like, but make it sad.

He nods his head, his curls covering his eyes as I stand fully. We stand in silence, still unable to address the bathroom incident. The event was so loud, continuing to ring in our ears as words were never spoken.

It is oftentimes the silence that is deafening.

"Okay," Auggie clears his throat, his hand forming a fist against his mouth as he peers around the room, "what are you doing anyway?" He questions, a subtle laugh coming from my throat.