Yellow || hs au

| 11 |

—

  I sit on my couch with my knees pulled up to my chest, my eyes staring out into the silent blizzard that is covering the streets of New York through the glass door. The snow is thick and silent, being aggressively blown around by the wind that whistles through the thin walls of my apartment.

  Ever since I woke up this morning, my mind hasn't stopped racing. I haven't been able to stop thinking about Harry and our argument last night.

  Cora left early sometime this morning, probably feeling like absolute shit. She had sent me a text to thank me and tell me she made it home alright which I appreciated.

  I easily stand from my couch and make my way to my bathroom, flicking the light on and staring at my tired reflection. The only thing covering me is Harry's flannel he allowed me to wear last night. It smells exactly like him.

  Rolling my eyes, I begin to unbutton the material, allowing it to drop as I move to start myself a shower.

  I was planning on painting today, seeing as I still have a blank canvas sitting in my spare room, waiting to be painted on. But the more I think about painting, the more I don't want to.

  I don't know, maybe it's the fact that Harry doesn't know how to treat me like anything other than shit, or maybe it's the fact that even with the way he treats me, he's still on my mind twenty four seven.

  I keep replaying the night he came over, how different he looked and acted. He even spoke a little bit softer. He seemed so lost and confused. And even if he was being a dick, I'm still wondering if he's okay.

  I let out a long sigh, leaning my head back into the stream of the steaming water, allowing it to wash out the conditioner from my hair. The water is hot against my skin and tints it red but it feels good.

  After another couple of minutes, I shut the water off and step out of the space, wrapping my towel tightly around my body.

  Now that it's December, I'm going to have to start planning and packing to go back home. As much as I dread having to go home for Christmas, I know for a fact my mom and dad won't let me miss it. I already got away with thanksgiving.

  I only plan on staying for a few days, meaning Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and then driving back on the twenty sixth.

  Just thinking about having to face my parents and listen to them tell me how art is hobby like they don't say it every year, makes me want to hide in my apartment until the new year. I feel like I've gotten used to their treatment by now, and it doesn't faze me anymore. All it is, is irritating.

  I shake my head and rid the thoughts of Christmas from my mind and instead, I find myself pulling the flannel back over my now dry body. The fabric reaches to my mid thigh and the sleeves need to be cuffed twice to be out of my way, making me feel extremely small.

  I leave my bathroom and return out to my couch, deciding that today I'd rather draw. It's what I'm actually good at and it usually helps me feel a little bit better. It makes for a good distraction and it gives my mind a short break from overthinking all day.

  I hate to admit how upset I am over Harry, it's annoying that he's making me feel so different. Usually I'm used to bad treatment, hence my family. But coming from him, it sucks just that much more.