HARRY STYLES IMAGINES (REQUESTS OPEN)

#1 Until You Come Back Home

Well, I'm starting off with an angsty song preference.

Song : I don't wanna live forever by Zayn Malik and Taylor Swift

WARNINGS : ANGST, SAD, ALCOHOL USE

ALSO, IT'S LONG

WORD COUNT : 2,399 (including the lyrics)
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“Been sitting eyes wide open behind these four walls hoping you'd call.
Its just a cruel existence like there's no point hoping at all.”

Waiting for someone to call you is pure torture—you’re paralyzed with feelings of uncertainty and powerlessness, stuck waiting for someone to reach out to you in the hopes of putting an end to your doubts.

Harry Styles positioned himself in his seat as he sat alone in his room after having his heart broken. Having four walls around him, he tried to emotionally protect himself from the harm people may have inflicted on him.

Although the pain in his heart was immense, he tried to swallow it down with the help of alcohol. He gulped the brown colored liquid down his throat but the pain wouldn't subside. Even though he was drinking and his eyes were red as fire and were burning with rage, he was staring at the phone kept on the table beside him, hoping she would call and apologize. He would forgive her in an instant. Even after what she did he couldn't hate her.

He wasn't programmed to hate her.

There was no point in waiting, he knew. His head said no but his heart screamed yes and he listened to his heart. He was mumbling a jumbled collection of garbage as sleep started taking over his drunken state. The bottle slipped from his hand and landed on the floor, emptying the liquid which dirtied the carpeted floor.

“Baby, baby, I feel crazy,
Up all night, all night and every day.
Give me somethin', oh, but you say nothin'.
What is happenin' to me?”

He woke up five minutes later with his head throbbing with pain, sweat dripping down his forehead, and a cramp in his leg. He grappled his phone and checked for any missed calls from her. There were none. His heart dropped into his stomach as it twisted, and turned until it finally broke into pieces.

His eyes slowly drifted off to the messy carpeted floor which was stained by the whisky he was drinking earlier. He couldn't stand mess and if his room was messy, he would flip, but today was an exception. He wanted to clean the floor but he felt weak. He felt as if all the energy had been drained out of his body just like the alcohol had drained out from the fallen glass bottle. He shakily grabbed the sides of the sofa he was sitting on as he tried to get up. Due to his legs wobbling and the immense pain that was shooting through his body, his intoxicated self slouched back onto the sofa.

He tried to fall back asleep but it was of no use.

He felt defeated. He felt as if he had been run over by a train. He felt betrayed, cheated on. Well, he was cheated on. He felt as if he was losing his sanity minute by minute and this feeling of insanity felt like the most sane feeling to him.