Running [h.s.]

forty five | luna

This song is a cover by Mia Giovina. If you haven't heard her music, you HAVE TO listen to her. She makes rewrites of Harry's songs from the perspective of the person he is singing about. She is incredible. I actually contacted her to get permission to use one of her best songs later in this book, it's going to be a bigger piece to the story.

Please give her some love and if you follow her on TikTok or YouTube, be sure to comment that I sent you there so she knows I support her!!

This version of Falling makes me think of Luna and Harry singing together. If you imagine it that way while reading this chapter, it will make you cry. Or at least it made me cry.

This is a continuation from the last chapter to the trigger warning about his panic attack still applies.

I can hardly keep up with my feet as they carry me up his grand stairs. My body is going so fast that I bang my shin on one of the steps, but I can't even stop to register the pain as it shoots down my leg, I have to find Harry. I rush into his bedroom, scanning the entire space, but no trace of Harry. I see the light shining out of the bottom of the bathroom door. I bolt towards the door and knock loudly, the hard wood rattling under my fist. I hear a raspy groan from the other side of the door, and he sounds like a wounded animal.

I swing the door open harshly and my eyes quickly find Harry. His long body is tangled on the ground, his head resting on the toilet seat like it's a pillow, his gorgeous eyes shut. His eyelashes flutter rapidly from the movement of his eyes, and I can't tell if he is passed out or not. I gasp involuntarily at the sight of the broken man in front of me and I cry, "Harry?!"

His eyes flutter open, and he blinks rapidly as his pupils dilate and he focuses on me in the doorframe. I quickly hurry to his side and kneel beside him. There is a faint smell-like vomit-and my heart sinks from the fact that he got sick. My hands cup his face and I lift his heavy head off of the porcelain. His eyes stay fixated on mine, but they are squinted, as if holding his eyes open is taking a lot of effort.

"Harry are you having a panic attack right now?" I ask him, recognizing the state he is in from my own experiences.

He musters up the strength to nod, his lips parting to answer, but no sound emits from his beautiful lips.