✓ Meanwhile [h.styles]

.seven.

there are three intervals, but the second one is just a change in point of view.

A loud thump wakes Astraya up. Her eyes dart to her surroundings before she remembers where she is. The large window to her side has its shades drawn so light is pouring into the room in waves, sunlight warming the side of her face. She's a little disoriented and considers dropping back to the bed for more sleep before the same thumping sound returns, this time louder. It sounds like something heavy is falling just outside of the bedroom.

She gets up slowly and walks to the door before pressing her ear against the wood, too afraid to open it yet.

"Stop," she hears someone hiss. The man's voice is tough and sincere. It makes her shrink back slightly until it comes again. "You can be so fucking sick sometimes, but I won't stand this."

Another thumping sound.

"Hey!" The man barks. "Listen to me, Harry. I know you. I'm the only one who knows you and you need to stop pretending that I'm not. I will call you out on your shit."

"Get the-" A more familiar voice is cut off by another thumping sound.

"You're not following through."

"Get the fuck off of me," Harry's voice seethes. It has to be Harry, she decides. His vulgar and unforgiving tone is one that's still fresh in her memory.

"You're not following through," the other voice repeats itself. It sounds a little more familiar but she thinks it could be the medic, Joshua, even though it would seem out of character for him to demand something from Harry.

She wonders if they're in a heated argument. If the thumping sound is a result of fist against skin. The thought revolts her.

"You're better than that, Harry. You're not twisted. Stick to the fucking list and-" another thump interrupts the harsh words. "I'm not scared of you. The shit you pulled last night could've got you killed."

She turns the knob slowly until there's a space for her to leave. When she's finally in front of the open doorway, she freezes with wide eyes.

In front of her is Harry pressed harshly against the wall opposite to her, hands tight around the fabric of the person holding him in place, which is shockingly Joshua. Harry's grip isn't nearly as tight as Joshua's grip on his collar. If anything, it's barely there at all.

"I don't care what you think of me," Harry mumbles, lips bitten and discolored in more places than one. He struggles to move forward but Joshua pushes him back against the wall with a heavy thump.

"But you do, and when you screw up this time I won't be there to make you feel like you haven't fucked up at all. You do this and you're on your own, I swear to God."

He laughs at this, but bitterly, hands falling from Joshua's shirt. "You don't even believe in God." His eyes shift from his friend to look at where Astraya stands directly over Josh's shoulder.

She swallows the wrong way but fights off the cough that's willing to slip past her throat. They're silent throughout the whole ordeal; Harry stares at her with this blank expression and she stares back in mild curiosity. Half of her wants to know where the conversation was leading, and the other half is happy that it's coming to an end.