invasato [h.s]

42

Apart of me expected Isaac to hurry down the stairs immediately after I left in an effort to comfort me. Even though I wanted to be alone, I was still sort of shocked when he stayed up there.

But that's beside the point.

I look down into the sink, my head aching with this newfound emptiness that came with the drainage of all the scenarios I had if this dream of mine had succeeded.

I swear I could've stared numbly into that porcelain for eternity, but the front door opens.

I look over my shoulder to see who's footsteps I was hearing, almost expecting to see Zayn.

But, in walks Dreamboat.

He stops when he sees me, like he wasn't expecting to see me here either. He has his car keys in his hand.

His face was all bruised up, a purple mark along his nose and more bruises along his jawline on the right side. When we were bailed out together, he came out with his nose and mouth all bloody. This must be the aftermath.

"I just needed to grab something for Zayn...he told me you'd be asleep still." he says, filling the silence.

I sniff and look forward again, wiping my eyes with my arm and turning on the tap to make it look like I was busy.

"Okay." I answer.

I bite my trembling lip, hearing Harry's silence and feeling his presence at the other end of the kitchen behind me.

In the silence, I hear him clear his throat and set his car keys on the table. The clank of the metal contrasts onto the hard wood.

"Everything okay?" he asks, like he knew the answer—but also like he wasn't sure if he should ask.

I know he saw my face when he walked in. I was crying, and he saw. He knows I'm not okay, but I don't know how to tell him why.

I can't bring myself to nod and lie, to tell him that I'm fine and hope that he just takes that and leaves it.

It's strange, but I sort of want him to tell me what Isaac did...that it'll all be okay.

In response to his question, I feel the emotion build. I shake my head and pinch my eyes shut, my back still to him.

When my head dips down, I can't stop it. I just let myself sob quietly, my tears fall into the sink.

"Hey," I hear Harry. He approaches, and my stomach whirls  at the feeling of his hand on my back. "what's going on—"

"Harry!" I hear yet another voice enter the villa. Around the corner and into the kitchen comes Niall. "Hurry up, it's hot as fuck in the c—what's wrong?"

Niall sees Harry and I, he sees my tears and he sees Harry attempting to investigate the reason for them.

"Red, why are you upset?" he reiterates his question, walking closer to us. "Was it that dickhead you're engaged to? Did he do something? I swear I'll—"

"N-no, Niall it wasn't Isaac." I sniff and shake my head, wiping my eyes excessively.

"What happened then?" Harry asks, a small sense of urgency in his voice. Maybe he was worried that something involving the gang occurred and he didn't know about it yet.

I sigh through my mouth as Niall and Harry shield me, standing around me. "My painting didn't get accepted into the museum. That's what happened." I admit, my hand smacking my thigh after I throw it up in defeat.

Saying those words made it feel so much more real, and it set it all in stone for me.

Niall looks at Harry, and Harry looks at Niall. It's like they have this unspoken dialogue going on telepathically—neither of them know what to say.