Abstruse | H.S.

Chapter Thirty

Fuck.

That's all I can say right now.

I have been awake for probably the past half an hour, maybe more, just trying my hardest to recap everything and analyze what's happening in the moment.

Harry's arm is still slung over my waist, but instead of the tight grip I remember him having on me last night before we both fell asleep; it is now lazily draped over me.

I remember last night, I remember it almost perfectly. That's the only thing I can remember since I've fallen into this state. It almost feels like a hangover when you were sober enough to remember most of what happened, but drunk enough to remember it in a blur.

It's not like I wake up one day and I feel 100% fine, that's not how it works for me. I wake up a little confused, my head is still a bit foggy, and my body feels tired. I spend the first little bit trying to get out of bed or work up the courage to do something productive. But eventually I get up, I eat or something and I start feeling better as time passes, and it never takes too long. Having a mood disorder really throws you off, and it really does sneak up on you.

Like that one time when Niall showed up at my house, it took me by surprise when I was able to get up as fast as I did. It's unpredictable, but right now I feel extremely grateful that I'm coherent, and I don't feel like I'm in a constant haze.

I feel utterly embarrassed. I'm humiliated, but more than all of that; I feel guilt.

I feel bad, for putting Harry in this situation for as long as I have been like this, and I still have no idea how long it has been. I don't know where my phone is. But I do feel bad. Harry didn't sign up for this, no one has. I don't know why Harry has gone out of his way to continuously take care of me; that's not the Harry I met at all.

Harry is...different. He even told me himself that he doesn't care for others. Which is a pretty serious thing entirely. I mean, what kind of human being can say with confidence that they don't care for other people? Maybe he's just exaggerating. Him and the rest of the guys are so close, there's no way he doesn't care or have love for them.

And what about his family? He had to have been exaggerating. Or I took it the wrong way, maybe he meant he hasn't cared for a woman on a romantic level before.

God, romantic level. I can't even believe the thought crossed my mind.

I'm just confused about Harry in general.

And I'm confused by what the fuck we are doing.

My repetitive thoughts are cut short when I feel Harry stirring from behind me, and I momentarily panic at the thought of confrontation. I have no idea what I'm supposed to say, or if he's going to say anything to me.

Harry's arm removes from his draping on my waist, and he stretches out his body as he lays on his back. I hear him grumble from his closed mouth, feeling him stretch his arms and legs out releasing a low moan as he does so.

My body freezes when I feel the weight of the bed lessen, and I realize he is probably sitting up now. Fuck, as long as I've been struggling with this; I have never had this big of a confrontation before. Maybe I'm panicking for no reason.

"Ara?" Harry's voice rasps, he still sounds half asleep. But it sounds so good.

I swallow the lump in my throat, slowly turning my head around so I can look up at Harry.

His long hair is messy and pushed in every direction, his soft, dark pink lips are full and agape as he stares down at me. His green eyes are slightly squinted and full of exhaustion.