the moon [h.s.] - EDITING

farewell.

Harry doesn't know if he's accepted it yet. Of course, he knows she's gone. He knows she's never coming back but he still has trouble understanding why.

It's been hard. So damn hard.

For a while, he lost himself as anybody who has ever felt loss would. He cried for nights on end, yelling at the sky for taking her away. After her funeral, Harry left Mariana and Santiago behind. He packed up his things, left a letter behind, and traveled back to New York. He hasn't spoken to her family since. It's been almost four months.

He grew angry at the world over time. He walked the streets of New York at a dangerous hour angry and drunk. Most nights, he'd attempt to take his anger out at random men by picking fights. Yet, no matter how much Harry provoked other men at bars, they ignored him. Did they pity him, maybe? Or was something- someone out there looking out for him?

He always made it home safely even after being inexplicably intoxicated. Though, his angry-at-the-world adopted quality and reckless behavior was becoming intolerable to his flatmate. Harry would disappear for days, renting rooms in questionable hotels for some quiet drinking time, and Levi worried every single time. Though, he couldn't seem to understand how frustrating it was for Harry to see him and his new fiancée, Jade, happy.

The anger eventually watered down, but the drunken nights seemed to intensify. He was no longer angry and drunk, he was sad and drunk. Which, in his opinion, felt much worse. He was missing her more than ever. It was a feeling he couldn't physically shake or try to get out of.

He remembers countless nights sitting on his bedroom floor, drowning himself with bottles of beer. He spent those nights wishing it was him instead. He sobbed and wondered if he was the reason for her death. Maybe there was more he could've done, he constantly thought to himself. He kept himself numb to avoid self-blame and depressive thoughts. It never worked.

The drinking. It was becoming a problem.

"Harry," Zavier sat down on his bed by Harry's sprawled out legs. "Gia and I think you should try this group therapy thing for people who have had a loss."

Harry looked at the couple and jealousy crept in on him again. As if he hadn't seen enough when it came to Levi and Jade. He should be thankful or appreciative that his friends had decided to come visit Harry to see how he had been holding up. They've been nothing but wonderful to him. Still, Harry looked at Gia's belly and it saddened him. Her belly was much bigger. He then watched as she looked around his room. She was probably staring at the mess. "No," Harry finally answered them.

"Harry, I think it could help you," Zavier said. He glanced at the bottle of beer Harry brought to his lips.

He licked his lips after a comforting sip. "I really don't think listening to people bitch about the person they've lost is going to help me."

Zavier sighed. "Can you at least cut down on the alcohol?" He suggested as if it was that easy. Harry was only getting started.

"Why?"

"Because-"

"I mean, remember when Madison dumped you? I didn't see you giving up alcohol," Harry spoke, completely unfiltered as he held onto his bottle tightly. "You drank so much... You even almost killed Luna yourself. Remember, you forgot you couldn't have a smoke around her."

Harry seemed to make both his friends flinch from the words he said.

"Babe, can you give us a minute?" Zavier asked Gia. She nodded then gave Harry a light but hurt smile. When she left Harry's bedroom and shut the door behind her, Zavier snatched the bottle from Harry's hand.