Red Volkswagen || h.s.

champagne problems

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love slipped beyond your reaches and I couldn't give a reason

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BROOKLYN'S POV

Something that's always been so nostalgic for me is humid morning air and the sound of birds chirping. The combination is like a portal straight back to super early mornings during summers at home. The sunrise would wake me up bright and early and I'd spring out of bed, give Devin a wake up call, and tell her to meet me at the beach. I'd throw on my swimsuit that I wore the day before when I did the same thing, lather sunscreen on my skin, grab breakfast, and I wouldn't be coming back home until sundown.

Those mornings feel really far away right now.

The humidity right now isn't bringing me back to those moments, it just feels gross. The sounds of cars passing and honking are annoying. I don't hear any birds. Yet, I don't want to go back inside the hotel room yet.

This balcony isn't very big despite the more than adequate size of the hotel room, but that doesn't really matter. We're extremely high up, and if I look down below the railing I'm leaning against then I get a little dizzy.

The sun is just starting to rise. It's just after six in the morning and I'm only out here because I couldn't sleep last night at all. My mind is too wired with different emotions after the show last night, and although I'm utterly exhausted, I can't sleep.

I've been out of bed for about thirty minutes, but awake for much longer. I figured I would come out here and sit so I didn't accidentally wake Harry up, because he's been knocked out since his head hit the pillow last night and hasn't budged since.

Yes, I'm still kind of shaken up that he literally passed out in my arms last night, so that's definitely contributing to why I'm so awake. I know he's going to be okay– I felt his forehead earlier and it wasn't nearly as hot– so I know his physical health will come back. At least in some capacity. But my fear is it getting like this again. And again..and again.

So I want to let him sleep for a lot longer; Claire should be here sooner than later to check on him and assess how he's really doing. The flight to Miami was supposed to leave later this morning, but now that's not happening. I heard that the earliest we could possibly leave is late tonight, but all of that depends on Harry's health. Everything is kind of up in the air right now.

Another honk from down below startles me, pulling me back to being hyper aware of the humidity and the warm concrete below my feet. I push off of the railing, turning and sitting back down in the wire metal chair and facing my computer again that sits on the small glass-topped table.

I sigh.

A few minutes after I trudged out of bed, I gave in to the taunting going on in my head and opened up the application portal for the program. Devin and I's conversation has been playing on a constant loop in my brain, as well as all of the advice my mother has been giving me.

After filing through all of that, my brain came to this conclusion: if I don't submit an application, I'll probably regret it, and if I do submit one, I can always not go if I get it. Devin definitely fed into that consensus, but it makes sense. This step of filling out of and submitting the initial application is harmless.

Why does it still feel so wrong?

I feel guilty. Probably because I haven't told Harry about it in any capacity and he's sleeping right inside, thirty feet away from me, clueless.