"I don't understand the things I do. The world outside looks so unkind, and I'm countin' on you to carry me through."
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Melbourne, where it's currently 23 degrees. We hope you have a safe trip, or welcome home. We thank you for choosing to fly with Emirates."
I woke to the sound of the captain over the loudspeaker. I'd slept for nearly the entire plane ride. I rubbed my eyes and looked out the window as we approached the airport terminal. I was home. As the plane stopped and everyone rushed to get their bags and get off, I sat back and turned on my phone;
'21 missed calls.'
'14 text messages.'
All of them were from Harry. I gripped my phone tight in my hands and deleted everything. Without even bothering to read the text messages. Half the plane was cleared out, so I got up weakly and grabbed my bags, heading out into the airport.
I was greeted at the baggage claim by my dad. He wrapped me in a big hug and lifted me off the ground. He placed his hands on my face and wiped away the stray tear that I didn't even realize had fallen. He put his arm around my shoulders and kissed my head, leading me to collect my luggage. I waited and waited, finally seeing my massive black suitcase and pulling it off the conveyer belt. Dad took it from me and we walked out to the car, meeting my mum and my brother Alex in the carpark. Mum grabbed me and hugged me for ages, I relaxed into her body. I hadn't realized how tired I was, or how emotionally drained.
"Want me to bash him?" Alex said, smirking as he pulled me into a hug. I just laughed at him. I was so lucky that my family was close, we always had been. The drive home was quiet, I leant against the window in the back seat, watching the skyline of the city rush past me. We got home and I went straight to bed, ignoring my mum's pleas for me to have something to eat. I needed to sleep.
I'd been home for a week. The texts and calls from Harry had stopped about four days ago. Although I was relieved, a part of me was also disappointed.
I'd gotten a text from Liam the day after I got home, asking what had happened. I didn't reply.
When Harry somehow found my Twitter and followed me. I deactivated.
When the phone call came from Preston late one night. I didn't answer.
When my friends threw me a 'welcome back' party and I got really drunk, I wanted to text him. But I didn't.
When I watched the notebook with my best friend Zara and started to cry, I wanted to call him. But I didn't.
When I heard my parents fighting downstairs, I wanted to text him. But I didn't.
When a night out with my best friend Cassie resulted in me getting a new tattoo, I wanted to call him. But I didn't.
I spent every waking minute trying to shake him from my mind, but it wasn't working. Did I have feelings for him too? He was tall and charming, he was funny and absolutely gorgeous.. But he was messed up, he couldn't control himself. I couldn't handle having someone like that in my life, especially when it came with a side of A-List fame..
I woke one morning to the sound of my mum knocking on my bedroom door. I groaned and rolled over, it was 11:41am. All I'd done while I'd been home was sleep and eat.
"C'min" I mumbled, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. Mum walked into my room, a smile plastered on her face.
"There's someone downstairs for you.." She spoke softly. Something inside me sparked at the thought that it might be Izi. But my brain shut down the idea, remembering that she was home, and wanted nothing to do with me.
"I'll be down in a minute."
She closed the door and I threw the covers off me, picking up the hoodie that sat on the edge of my bed and pulling it over my head. I was tightening the drawstring of my tracksuit pants as I padded out of my room and down the stairs. I rounded the corner into the kitchen, a huge smile covering my face as I saw who was sitting at the kitchen table. Liam, Louis and Niall.
Niall was the first to notice me, jumping up and enveloping me in a huge hug, his face buried in my neck. The next was Liam, who grabbed the back of my head and pulled me into him, kissing my hair every now and then. Louis was last, a mischievous smile plastered on his face as he hugged my torso. I stood back and looked at them, they all had a wry smile on their faces. Even mum who was leaning against the kitchen bench, drinking tea.
"What..?" I asked cautiously, sort of scared to hear what they had to say.
"We've got an idea.." Louis said, pulling out a chair from the kitchen table and motioning for me to sit down.
Fuck, this was going to be interesting.
YOU ARE READING
Drunk; A Harry Styles Fan FictionFanfiction
"Who are you?" "I'm Izi." "Why are you here?" "Because. Do you need help?" "I don't need anyone's fucking help." ~~ WARNING: Strong language, sex, drug use. NSFW, MA15+