shelter {zs}

(11) cry for me

Harry woke up to Samara staring down at him with disappointed eyes. 

He didn't have it in himself to ask what was up so he just rolled over to hide back into his blanket, except, his brain didn't realize he wasn't on the bed. 

His arm connected harshly to Samara's cold wooden flooring and he let out a loud groan. 

"Seriously." Samara snatched his blanket away, "Couldn't you at least wear a shirt?" 

"Fuck off it's Saturday. Why are you up so early anyway?" He grumbled slowly getting up and ruffling his hair. 

"It's five pm," They threw the blanket at his face harshly, "I know I told you to get rest but at your place." 

"What the hell, is it really five pm?" his eyes widened as he ransacked for his phone, finally spotting it under one of Samara's pretentious table. His phone was at 2% and sure enough it was five past fifteen, "Fuck, I missed my shift." 

He had two missed calls from his employer, "Oh god." 

He heard Samara sigh, "I walked over by your place and called in sick for you and I got you soup." 

"Can we make out?" He asked them earning a nasty glare. 

"I'm not happy about this at all, I just don't like starving people." 

"Well yeah I'd hope so." 

"Don't get sassy with me when you stink, please fucking take a shower." They glared at him one last time and walked away, slamming the door to their bed room. He knew they were in love with him. 

Heeding to their very polite advice, Harry did wash up. He used Samara's strawberry scented shampoo and conditioner because he had to use the cheap convenience store one back at his own place.  

Finally after a long time he had showered with actual hot water and not the joke of a lukewarm shit his shower gave. 

He wore his old over sized silk shirt that was a little dressy but it was the only thing of his in this apartment along with the black itchy trousers he only wore on occasions. 

Times like this he did miss owning expensive clothes, he had to sell them off during his third month away from his father to pay rent because he had used up his savings on other things. 

The long mirror in the hall made Harry want to run from his reflection once again. He looked a little sunken he could tell, he wasn't doing too bad economically, he made enough to cover the rent his graphic freelancing was doing okay on the sides, he had so skip meals once a while but that was hardly something to stress over. 

He walked himself into the kitchen with wet hair, picking up the pink bowl filled to the brim with broccoli cheese potato soup, his favorite from this old place down town, Samara knew him so well. 

He scarfed it down easily, knowing he was starving after last night but the portion was more than enough for him considering his appetite had decreased these days. 

"Great, you look good, did you brush you teeth?" Samara asked, walking out of their room. 

Harry stopped mid chew, "Of course." He replied appalled, "Stop acting like a parent." 

"I'm definitely not acting like your dad." they chuckled. 

"Why would you kick me when I'm down?" 

"Whatever, are you going to come to the book club I talked to you about, they're holding a meeting at seven at this bar discussing this book." They kept a copy of a thick looking book on the counter.