"𝙆𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚, 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮."
29-year-old Harry has many skeletons in his closet.
As Harry rapidly approaches thirty, his affections for a girl he has loved for many years of his life are unraveled through a series of unanticipated events.
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"Well, whatever, nevermind."
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"What the fuck," Samantha uttered under her breath when she stepped into the room of her older brother who drunkenly swayed in front of her before crashing down onto the velvet settee.
He watched her with a blank, empty look as she hesitantly ventured further into the room that looked completely in shambles. Footprints of distress left in every inch of the room.
"It smells like shit," the blonde commented. Picking up an orange bottle with a single solitary white pill inside she continued, "looks like shit too."
"I feel like shit too Samantha, isn't that just so fuckin' awful?" The man spoke condescendingly. Glaring bitterly at his sister who only had indifferent judgment in her eyes. He knew she wasn't here for him. She couldn't find it in herself to give a shit if he was dead or fucked up.
So he asked her, "Why are you here?"
"Heard something happened. I wanted to check up on you." Her words sounded caring but there was sarcasm dripping from her tone. The slight arch of her brows, the smirk pulling her cheeks up said it all.
Harry and Samantha did not have what you called a loving relationship. Sure they hung out once in a while. They bantered and joked around but they both were aware of the fine line that created the border through their relationship. It had been there for so long it almost was like it had always been there but from the faint memories ice cream cones and summer songs that floated in Harry's mind could prove otherwise.
"Fuck off, Samantha. I can't entertain this conversation right now." He bit back.
"Yeah yeah listen it's more intolerable for me to be here than for you to tolerate my presence - I'm just here to tell you that Mum's hosting a party for Dad's fancy award. She wants you there Harry."
"And she couldn't tell me that over the phone? She had to send you?"
Sam rolled her eyes, getting visibly more and more agitated by the second, "She sent me," pronouncing every word hard, "because she wanted to make sure you'll be there."
Harry got up sluggishly from the settee and walk across the room in slow steps. The desk was covered with an array of glasses and bottles and ashtrays. He haphazardly poured himself a drink and downed it in seconds making his sister grimace. He blinked a few times as the dull bitterness diffused through his throat and slurred out with laughter heavy in his tone, "And you're just so amazing at convincing, eh Sammy?"
She tried her best to maintain her composure repeating to herself that she was a grown woman and not a teenager which is why pouncing on him and ripping his hair out or scratching his face off may not be the most dignified thing.
She stared at him in silence, observing his tall figure that stood hunched wearily. He looked drained of life. His usually wavey, soft curls were matted to his skull and Samantha tried not to think about how long it had been since he had showered. 2 weeks perhaps. He turned to look the window absent-mindedly and Samantha finally looked at his eyes. The usual vibrant green in them looked polluted by the burden of the most sorrowful heartache. For a split second, she felt something like crumbles of pity. But it left as soon as it came. Disgust crawled under her skin.
"Bye Harry."
She walked out of the room.
Seconds passed before a scratchy voice called out, "Sam! Sam! Will Abby be there?" He looked at her expectantly. His red-rimmed eyes were open wide and in the afternoon light, the oily skin of his face looked dirtier than they did in his darkened room. He didn't look like a 28 year old man. He didn't look like Harry Styles the writer.
Samantha left.
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Author's note-
Idk what im doing w this book honestly. I really dont. if i get motivation to write again i will. see u lot. Ive been seeing alot of new readers these days and that makes me happy so thank you besties. Love ya lots <3333
