LISTEN {H.S.} A.U.

Wilson

Hey y'all !! I am super excited for the upcoming chapters because it will be revealing and unraveling the relationship, or soon to be relationship between Mari and Harry!! Maybe you can catch on to how in this chapter! Comment your theories if ya want.

Also, I know I gave Mari a specific look already but bare with me here... I FOUND SOMEONE WHO LITERALLY MADE ME GASP!! Because this woman looks exactly like the Mari I imagined in this story, as well as the aesthetic Mari has, so this is Mari now :)

The girls instagram is : nice.to.mitra (if you want to really know how Mari looks like in my eyes)

*********

My face felt sticky, but at the same time felt flaky. Waking up touching my skin, and feeling it out to make sure that nothing was falling off; specifically 'flaking' out. Instead of flakes, I noticed there was a tapping wet motion on my face. This made me snap my eyes open. When I open them all I see is a concerned face that belonged to Sylvia.

"Now." I pause to look at her. Her hand is still patting my face with a wet cloth. "What is it that you are doing here sylvia?" I smile with a tight lip line, folding my hands. She continues to pat my face, and huffs.

"Thank you Sylvia, you are amazing!" She imitates her version of a New Yorker accent, but sounds like Al Pacino on crack. "You and Harry literally blacked out on a whole new level." She shook her head as she said this. Sylvia turns her back to me, and places the bowl down.

"No seriously. You both worried me. Harry headed out cause he had some filming shit to deal with. But we were all doing fine! Dancing and laughing like people do. Then you both started singing, more like shouting but nonetheless you were both singing. Then in the next moment you both crashed to the floor in pain." She exacerbates with mom's hands. You know when your mother is going ape shit, and she starts using her hands. That is what Sylvia is doing.

"Wait, we crashed? Like just glitched or something?" I sit up wrapping myself more in the very comfortable sheets. Feels like cotton. Probably cotton.

"You both just crouched in pain, it was like a horror film! I tried to calm you down but I guess from the drinking you both kind of faded away. You don't remember that at all?" She sits at the edge of the bed, one knee bent and sitting on the bed.

"No, I don't recall. Probably just a hardcore rager! Let's go Red Coats!" I laugh throwing a fist in the air and pumping it up and down. My body is sore, so sore. Feels like a squeeze but not a good squeeze. Not an ass squeeze sore, but like I just got thrown into a van squeezed.

"Fucking idiot." Sylvia laughs. "You will have to sober up though! I have to drop by the set, and you will be pub hopping with me!" I don't think she genuinely thought this one through. I am absolutely hammered over that wine, and I need a moment. I need a deep moment, so knees deep in my moment here in these rich people sheets.

"You want me to drink again?" I ask. She nods as she dresses herself up. I nod my head dramatically, while my hands start making the circle motions so that she can catch onto my tone.

"You will be fine. You did not come to Europe, specifically England, more specifically London and not expect to leave half-dead." As blatant as she could put it, she wants me to die.

More than willing, I get off of the bed and start digging through my luggage.

My mind hurts. My brain isn't adapting to the opposite streets. I kept a tight clutch to my purse, because Miss Sylvia over here is just zooming through the high-way and I am still feeling a bit dead from yesterday.