sunny. {HS au}

Chapter Seven - Rosey

TW - STRONG LANGUAGE

Florence woke up feeling much calmer. Partly still because of her conversation with Louis, and partly from knowing Emma was coming back to London today. 

When she was stressed or worried about something she hated being alone. Writing in her journal was somewhat relieving but she needed company to keep her from over-analysing things. Being alone with her thoughts gave them the opportunity to absorb her completely till she was a crippling heap of anxiety.

She had always been an over-thinker, for as long as she could remember. She always read into things too much, deeming them to mean more than they really did. What made it worse, was that she was aware of these tendencies but had no control over it. She felt herself irrationalising situations but was incapable of stopping. In the midst of an internal dispute, she would think to herself 'Florence it's really not that big of a deal', but the thoughts would just keep revolving around her head like a stuck record. 

She spent the day completing mundane tasks, doing her laundry, ironing her work uniform, cleaning the flat. Similarly to having company, being occupied by tasks kept her from getting stuck in her head. Having something to concentrate on and divert her attention away from any trepidation seemed to help. 

By the time Emma got back it was going dark. Florence was leafing through the same Walt Whitman book that had taunted her the previous night. She traced her finger over the words absent-mindedly, wondering why she felt every emotion so deeply. She was adamant every encounter she had meant more to her than it did to the other party. She felt narcissistic applying literature to her own affairs, thinking they were relevant enough to be a shared experience. 

"Honey I'm home!" Emma burst through the door with an obnoxiously large suitcase for just a couple of days away. She and Florence were the same in that way, always overpacking. They both believed they needed at least four outfit options per day.

"Thank fuck for that." Florence tossed her book onto the floor and ran over to embrace her friend. "Honestly never leave me again."

"I won't, I can't be without you again, it's been torture!" Sam laughed at their dramatic exchange as he came up the stairs of their block of flats behind Emma.

"Sorry to intrude on you guys." He ruffled Florence's hair as he came into the flat. She was almost as close with Sam as she was with Emma, seeing him as the equivalent of a brother. Sam didn't live with Emma and Florence but spent a great deal of time at their flat. He lived in a house share with two students and he couldn't stand it, claiming it was too much of a squalor for him to feel at home.

"Have you heard Harry Styles was seen at your work again during the week?" Emma dumped her bag in her room before coming back out and joining Florence who'd just settled back down on the sofa. The flat wasn't furnished when they had moved in, they'd chosen it because it was cheaper, forgetting that buying the necessary furniture to fill it would cost a fortune. Luckily they had similar tastes and a shared love for charity shops so found most of the décor fairly frugally. The sofa specifically, had been Emma's grandma's and had arrived with a severely stained upholstery so they threw as many blankets and throws over it as possible. It boded well with the vintage, mix-matched aesthetic of the space and they were forever receiving compliments for it.

"What? No way!" Florence simply couldn't make eye contact when she lied so leant forward to grab her previously abandoned poetry book from the floor.

"Yeah! There's no photos but it was reported from sources." Martina.

"Definitely wasn't when I was working. Almost feel like he's avoiding me." Florence laughed as she nervously flicked through the book in her hands.

"There's more too! Came out today – he's rumoured to have a new girlfriend. This supermodel from New York. I mean he is partial to a model, let's be honest. Look at this video of them necking off at a bar." Emma turned her phone to show Florence. Florence had never cared for celebrity gossip and despite being a fan of Harry's music, had never cared for his dating history or love life. Until the past week. After her self-destructive Google search the day before, she hadn't stopped thinking about why Harry had even spared her a second glance. "It's a random bar in London, last night." Emma was still holding the phone under Florence's nose.