the moon [h.s.] - EDITING

seventy-three.

It's beginning to feel real. He hasn't spoken to her since that night over the phone. The last thing she said to him was that she loved him. So, why did she leave? Harry still can't understand. He feels more broken than ever.

No text. No calls. Just the stupid pink letter he reads every night as if it isn't torturing enough. It's been two fucking weeks.

He also hasn't spoken to Zavier in a few days since he mentioned to Harry he was in search of a new roommate.

"A new roommate? You can't do that. What if Luna comes back?" Harry said.

"I'm sorry, Harry... How am I going to pay rent next month if she doesn't come back?"

Harry has no reason to be mad at Zavier. He knows just how expensive the flat is. But Luna. He can't picture his old room without Luna in it. It's her room now. It belongs to her and he's holding onto the hope that she will show up again.

Will she? He's going mad just wondering.

This is his fifth night in a row this week where he sits at a bar trying to forget. He realized Jade's bar wasn't a good place to go if he wants to forget.

"What can I get you?" The bartender of a nightclub asks over the loud music. He throws a towel over his shoulder and looks at Harry.

"Vodka. Straight."

The bartender nods and sets a glass in front of him. Harry is left to watch him pour. He thanks the man then finally lifts up the glass. He takes a quick sniff of the strong aroma then takes a casual sip. He looks around the nightclub. He's been here before. He's written about the place after Beth told him to. He had to tell his readers this was a hot new bar worth going to. Though, it's far from the truth. The floors are sticky from spilled drinks, anyone can sit in the VIP lounge, and the music isn't continuous. There's a lot of pauses, sometimes in between songs. It's fucking annoying for the people who came to dance.

Harry guesses he's a liar, too.

"Hi, there... My friend thinks you're really cute," a woman says. She invites herself to sit next to Harry. She's in a tight white dress, her skin is dark, and her hair has wild perfect little curls. Harry can't deny that she's pretty attractive. He can't do this to Luna, though. He's also not drunk enough to do something he might regret later on.

"Not interested," he says and lifts his glass back up. He takes another sip.

"Alright, good... because I think you're cute, too. Let's ditch her and leave together?"

Harry looks at the woman again and his eyebrows cease together. "You want to ditch your friend? That's not very kind," he says.

"Well, I'm not a nice girl. I'm Aliyah," she introduces.

Harry can't. He drinks the rest of his drink down even though vodka is only meant for sipping. He swallows the burn down. "I gotta go," he tells her and gets off of the stool.

He leaves Aliyah behind and heads towards the restrooms. Over the few nights he's spent in bars since Luna has left him, he hasn't had a girl hit on him like Aliyah just did. What is he doing in a nightclub then? He can't dance for shit.

Luna can dance.

Harry walks past the long line leading up to the women's restroom and he heads straight to the men's room. It's practically empty.

Well, not quite.

He looks over to a stall when he hears a loud thud against the door. He also hears kissing and soft moans. It makes him uncomfortable. "Fucking hell," he murmurs under his breath when he realizes he can't take a piss in peace. He leaves the occupied restroom in hopes Aliyah is no longer at the bar so he could also get drunk in peace.