Yellow || hs au

|25|

—

  I sit silently on Harry's couch, it's early. Too early for him to be up yet. I didn't plan on staying over last night, but he had explained to me that he wanted me to stay and he felt better if I was with him. So I stayed.

  After having the night to sleep on the information I learned yesterday, I'm extremely worried. I've never dealt with addiction but I know a lot about it, I've written a few papers on it before, granted they probably were shit, but I picked up a lot of valuable information.

  I'm worried about Harry. I want to talk to him about everything and make everything make sense because right now, it's all jumbled in my mind and nothing is connecting.

  He's been a meth addict for six years, meaning he would've gotten into drugs when he was fourteen. He was barely a high schooler. But I also don't understand what made him want to get into drugs, how did this all start and was it always meth? And why was he alone when he told me his mom would be visiting for Christmas.

There's so many gaps.

And to add onto it all, Harry never speaks about his family and I've never seen a photo with him and his parents or maybe even a sibling. And the music room which sparked this whole argument between us. What was so terrible that he didn't want me to see. Or rather, himself. It just doesn't add up.

I hear the sink running from his bedroom, signaling he's up now. Earlier than I expected. I've been up since seven thinking and it's now a bit past ten.

In all honesty, I'm nervous to see him. I know I saw and talked to him last night, but he was still high and wasn't in the right state of mine. Today, he could be angry and want nothing to do with me again, he could flip his shit and need to shoot up again.

"Morning." Harry mumbles, rubbing his eyes tiredly with his cigarette hanging between his lips. I watch him intently as he moves to stand beside the sliding door, sliding it open just enough so his smoke goes outside and doesn't linger. "Don't look so nervous, Clo." He continues, my face slightly falling.

"How do you feel?" I ask quietly, he's stood in grey sweatpants and a green hoodie, his curls messy and a small strand laying over his forehead out of place.

"I'm fine, sweetheart. I know how this goes." He answers, a small barely noticeable smile plays on his lips as he finishes his cigarette and tosses it outside, sliding the door closed.

"Is there anything I can do?" I question, Harry simply shaking his head as he moves to stand in front of me, my neck slightly craning back so I can look at him.

"Nothing you aren't already doing." He answers sweetly, leaning down to me and pressing a gentle kiss to my cheek. I stiffen at his action, Harry's lips warm against my skin.

"I'm not doing much of anything." I tell him, he shakes his head and flops down on the couch beside me.

"You're here and that's more than enough." He mumbles. I sigh, not used to this side of him. And frankly I'm not sure if I've ever seen this side of him. The sides that he doesn't seem bothered and he's being sweet. Last night doesn't really count because he was high and wasn't himself.

I send him a small smile, my eyes tracing over his face and his tired features. Even after a night like last night, his eyes are puffy from the tears and he looks incredibly tired, he still looks so good.