Skipping Rocks and Falling in Love - Harry Styles fanfic

PART EIGHT.

After reaching good terms and experiencing a pleasant moment of concordance with my mother, I immediately jumped to the central core of my very own predicament, starting with calling the obscure number scribbled on Lavender’s poem. The curiosity was lethal. The alacrity to take action was inevitable. The results were ambiguous, and as much as I hated to admit it, the final product driven by my forced optimism and wishful thinking could lead me to futility.

A dead end.

“Yes. Rose Altkins. I see her name in our records. She has an appointment early tomorrow at 8:00 am Section B26.”

I let out a lengthy exhalation composed of pure elation and relief over the perceived news I had initially sought after. My nerves were finally reposed as my body and mind reveled in the blithe attribute of the moment. Matters were finally falling into to place, and I could only anticipate that they wouldn’t lose their skillful sense of direction along the way.

“Thank you very much.” I hurriedly muttered, the acknowledgement of her assistance barely emphasized through my indolent reply.

Before the nameless voice had the chance to respond, I carelessly hung up before tossing my phone off to the side of my disorderly bed in a precarious fashion. I kicked off my shoes to the corner of my room while collapsing on to my duvet from the abundant level of feebleness that had ultimately depleted the remaining amount of vitality available in my incredibly exhausted body. Gradually twisting my neck to the side, I managed to look past my chaotically dispersed locks which were now disheveled from the numerous amount of times my hands had uneasily glided through them in worriment, while barely reading the flickering numbers on the dangerously red digital alarm clock placed on the center of my bedside table – 2:00 am. Although this was a major setback for my plans I had specifically for tomorrow, I had to embolden myself despite such obstacles. It was essential. As I relished in the opulence of my beds warmth and desired comfort, my mind had, without meaning, traveled back to her persistent, yet hauntingly alluring figure.

The way her rich mahogany brown locks cascaded into flawless waves that elegantly migrated down her petite frame only to adorn her glowing porcelain- skin which always made me overwhelmed in every way manageable. The way her thick fence of lashes faultlessly shielded her cerulean blue eyes in which fully illuminated the most crepuscular nights. The way her nervous mannerisms constantly drove her towards the playful toying of her fingers and the effortlessly sensual biting of her pink, plump, yet insanely inviting lips that drove me absolutely crazy. She was the picture of perfection. Had she smiled, the world and all its wonder would enter a euphoric state of joviality at such a sight. Had she laughed, the world would carouse and feast over such musicality. Had she wept, the oceans would offer their condolences through the serene activity of their waves, and the world would rush with such urgency for the simple reason of consoling her grief-stricken condition.

I craved for her.

Had I given up on her, the world would have endeavored to shower me with an evilly tenacious and unforgettable form of remorse.

The world wouldn’t have cared.                                                                                                                           

 ***

I pushed through the impeccably pristine glass doors of the medical institution whilst battling to adjust my beanie which screamed for salvage as it clung loosely over my excessively tousled hair. Slouching my taut shoulders back to achieve a higher sense of impudence and significance, I confidently swaggered my way down the dimly lit entrance hallway, the gleaming, yet undefiled white surface of the smoothly tiled floor blatantly glaring in the direction of the florescent lights with mild supremacy as the faint projection of light danced along its external cover.