Yellow || hs au

| 18 |

—

I stay silent as Harry drives through the city, I don't know to where. My knees are pressed against the door as I stare out at the gloomy and grey sky, guilt building up in my stomach as I replay my words to Cora.

She trusted me with that secret and I betrayed her. Even though she was testing my nerves, I went too far. I just couldn't stop myself after the way she had spoken about Harry without knowing anything about him.

I would've done the same for Cora if the roles were reversed. She's my best friend and I wouldn't be able to sit and listen to someone slander her behind her back, especially when they don't know her.

For her to do that to Harry, simply because I was spending time with him, is unfair. She doesn't think before she speaks and she's so quick to judge people. Harry doesn't look like a druggy, a depressed one at that. He's simply in his own bubble and doesn't want to be bothered. Cora doesn't understand that.

She's so pick and choose. It's either her way or no way. She can't stand it when she sees that I have other friends other than her, especially when they're men. Maybe she's intimidated by Harry, I don't know. But the way she was judging him and speaking about him, brought a new level of anger out of me. And I'm not an angry person, I don't like to be mad at anyone, it's a waste of time.

"You're gonna put a hole through that seat if you don't relax, Clover." Harry's voice is quiet and tugs me out of my thoughts. I glance down at my white knuckled hand, my fingers digging deep into the leather. I quickly unhand the seat, not even realizing I had been gripping it so hard. My hand relaxes, but aches from the harsh grip I had on the seat.

"Sorry." I mumble, resting my hands in my lap. Harry looks over at me as he comes to a stoplight, the engine of his car roaring behind us and lightly vibrating the seats as quiet music plays through the speakers. Coldplay.

"You want to tell me what that was all about?" He questions, the light turning green causing him to accelerate smoothly and quickly, obviously going at least twenty over the actual speed limit.

"I don't really want to talk about it." I answer, keeping my eyes out the window on my right, playing with the frays of my distressed jeans out of habit. "It's nothing anyways." I continue.

"You seem really bothered, I don't want you to be upset." He replies, pulling into a narrow alleyway which causes my nerves to spike up, the gravel jumping under the cars tired until he comes to a stop in front of a beaten down and chipped red door. The building itself is made of dark black bricks. I've never seen that before.

"Where are we?" I ask, Harry cutting the engine before the both of us climb out of his car into the windy air that bites my exposed skin. I wait for him to meet me at the hood of the car, his hand grasping mine.

"My tattoo appointment." He answers. "It'll be fast, an hour at most." He adds, pushing the red door open that leads into a what looks like an apartment. But kind of run down.

The floors are black and white checker board and two white leather couches pushed against the far back wall and the left wall with a coffee table in the middle that has what looks like multiple bongs and other questionable substances. All four walls are covered with bright colors of spray paint in graffiti style, large bubble letters and different shapes.

The kitchen is connected to the small living room with beaten up wood cabinets, a few are missing the cabinet door completely, exposing the emptiness behind them. The sink drips water slowly and loudly against the steel causing it to echo through the small space.