Colorful (H.S) | ✔️

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The clock reads a bright 2:12 am when I manage to escape the safety of my cocoon bed and scour into the kitchen. Like a desperate madwoman, I pry open each cabinet in hopes of finding some type of alcoholic beverage to satisfy the void in my heart.

All of a sudden, a bright light floods through the room. I freeze like a deer caught in headlights. Audrey stands by the entrance, rubbing her sleepy eyes. Her hair's tied into a messy knot on the top of her head. "What are you doing?" she asks, a yawn escaping her lips.

A lie easily slips out of my lips. "I have a headache. I was just looking for some pills." 

Despite her grogginess, she manages to arch her brows. "With the lights off?" 

"I didn't want to wake anyone." I mentally pat myself on the back, impressed with my newfound skill. Lying was starting to come much easier. 

She must be too tired to care about my obvious lie. She squints, eyes still adjusting to the light, as she trudges over to a drawer and pries it open. After some digging, she manages to pull out a white Tylenol bottle and forces it into my palm. 

My fist immediately curls around it. "Thank you so much! Sorry for waking you up. Good night," I chirp. Immediately I cringe. I sound way too enthusiastic for someone who supposedly has a headache. 

She nods. Without another word, she pads back to her room. I wait until the door shuts to open the drawer and put the medicine back where it belongs. 

I decide not to push my luck with the alcohol search. That was already a close call and I'm pretty sure Audrey got rid of all the alcohol after my unpleasant binge during the whole Drew situation. It's as if she's made it her life mission to make sure I don't turn into an alcoholic.

Good friend, she is.

Suddenly a brilliant idea pops into my mind. We may not have alcohol, but there is something else that can help calm the beating of my heart. 

And I know exactly who to call.

After fifteen minutes, I get the 'I'm here' text. With the stealth of a fox, I manage to trapeze out of the apartment with minimal noise, which is an impressive feat for me. The red sports car idles in the parking lot, a few spots away from our building. As inconspicuously as possible, I open the passenger side door and slip into the seat, the leather interior cooling my bottom immediately. 

Drew flashes me an impassive look, a joint hanging between his fingers that rest on the steering wheel. 

I snatch it from him and hold out my palm for a lighter. With an annoyed sigh, he fishes it out of the console and lights it for me before replacing it. 

The mere scent of the weed already has a calming effect on me. My lips curl around the stick and inhale a lungful. Since I'm not usually a smoker, a cough bubbles up my dry through, followed by a burning sensation. 

"The only reason I'm even giving this to you is because you look like shit and I know the odds of you spilling are higher when you're high," he tells me as he takes the joint from my fingers. Much to my surprise, he takes a long hit. I didn't expect him to smoke too.

"I'm flattered," I dryly respond, focusing on the part where he insulted me.

He nonchalantly shrugs before taking another hit. "Look, everyone treats you the same. They'll let you throw your tantrums until you're out of control. Then, either Harry swoops in and fixes your booboo, or your problem is miraculously solved. Judging by the circumstances, Harry already knows.  I'm sure he and Audrey hit you with the 'I won't question, I'll just let you cry' method, but we both know that's bullshit. I won't though, not this time. You need to learn with your issues in a healthy manner."