Madness ➮ Harry Styles AU

B2

Christopher

I skimmed the rough pad of my index finger across the smooth, tempered glass. As I did so, the light brown Bourbon swished inside the cup in a slow, calming motion.

"Would you like some, babe?" I slurred, picking up the shot glass and offering it towards the empty bar stool beside me.

My throat burned from the previous shots of alcohol, and my eyesight was blurred, leaving my treacherous imagination to connect the dots from what I could see, to what I thought should be there.

And I could have sworn it was her, sitting on the chair beside me; where she should have been.

She was wearing that sequined, black dress that I absolutely adored to see her in, and loved even more to take off of her. It clung to her curves perfectly, making her look innocent, yet also contradicted otherwise. The dark hair upon her scalp was pulled into a sophisticated bun, in which I knew she spent hours on end, alone in the bathroom, trying to perfect. Her eyes, well... it seems I'm at a loss for words. It's one of those things that no one could ever truly describe with all the words in the world. Even if you tried, and did as best as you possibly could, you would always find yourself downgrading it. Just as I am doing my best to explain what she would look like. Although, you will never understand... until she is there, standing before you; beautifully and perfectly in every way imaginable.

I reached out a lonely palm to touch her, to feel her warm skin upon my own.. which always seemed to remain cold without her touch or welcoming presence. However, my hand felt nothing but the icy air surrounding it, and it went straight through her thigh. Revealing that I was alone all along, speaking to an outrageous figment of my own imagination.

"Ashley?" I asked, not to confirm her absence, for I knew she was long gone. But just because I loved the way her name tasted on my tongue.

Slowly, I began to watch her dissolve into the atmosphere around her, leaving me to desperately grab for any tangible part of her that could be saved.

But she slipped right through my fingertips.

Then, the next thing I knew, she was gone. Causing me to feel even more lonesome, even though I knew all along that she was never here. I'd rather be occupied with a synthetic hallucination of her, then come to the realization that I was alone, sitting by myself, talking to myself.

I grabbed the crystal flask of whiskey and lazily poured a waterfall into my transparent glass, spilling along the way. The liquor dripped onto the granite counter top, but I was far too drunk to care or clean it up. The alcohol burned, leaving a trail of fire down my throat, and I welcomed it. I embraced the horrific feeling, unsure as to why I was doing so, but my mind was too clouded to think deeper into it.

Soon enough, the glass was empty, only for the couple droplets that were lucky enough to stray away from their own oblivion. I smiled, half-heartedly, before forcefully clutching the cup and throwing it harshly towards the tinted grey wall across from where I was currently sitting.

"Fuck!" I screamed to no one in particular, if anyone, it would be directed towards myself. I heard my own booming voice echo inside of the large, isolated mansion, giving the atmosphere an eerie touch.

The shot glass shattered into a firework of a million, tiny pieces once it collided with the wall. It fell to the floor in a transparent heap of debris, a visual representation of the state I currently found myself in. I was, am, and always be a worthless pile of trash, lying silently on the cold, hard floor. Physically, mentally, and spiritually.

I stood up from the velvet cushioned stool, making my way to the somewhat spiraled staircase. The glass pierced the bottoms of my bare feet like daggers as I walked over it. I suppose that my extraordinarily stupid, and overly drunken mind couldn't make the connection that it would be better to actually step over the shards.