Broken Misery (H.Styles Fanfic)

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"Jesus fucking Christ," I groan loudly as soon as I open my eyes and allow the light to blind my view. Somehow the sun manages to peek through the closed shades and it's making my morning extremely unpleasant. Then again, the pounding migraine at the front of my skull and my throat feeling as dry as an Egyptian desert don't contribute to my well-being, but I doubt I can blame the sun for that.

It's when my stomach grumbles in extreme famine that I carefully sit up in bed and rub my eyes with the back of my hands, but as soon as I reach for my phone to check the time, my fingers graze at rough glass. I examine the device closely, gently scratching the broken screen with my nails to feel the cracks, but I doubt that a tube of crazy glue would be any help for this sort of damage.

So it wasn't a dream...

For a few seconds, I thought that maybe my phone would be on the nightstand when I woke up, just like it is every morning, and it would be in a perfect condition. I thought that maybe last night's alcohol had given me hallucinations, that I had gotten back from pub in a cab and Harry was already in bed by the time I walked through the threshold, even considering that it was only seven in the evening, but the broken screen on my phone bring me back to reality. In fact, I even pull up the sheets to make sure I'm dressed so I know nothing else happened. Gladly I'm dressed in last night's clothes, minus the boots and socks, but knowing that nothing happened after the time I went to bed doesn't magically repair my phone. Though the bottom half of it is still in an acceptable condition, which allows me to read text messages and read incoming ones, the top part is in such an atrocious state that I can't even read the time on lock screen. I turn the device off and sigh loudly.

As soon as my feet hit the cold ground, my stomach once again growls loudly, probably due to the fact that I haven't had any food in my system since yesterday's breakfast. I was always told to never drink on an empty stomach, but to be honest, when the time comes where you need alcohol, you don't necessarily think, 'Oh, wait. I need to eat first!'. And if you do indeed consider the side effects of forty percent volume shots without eating first, then maybe your reason to drink just isn't enough and you should stick with light beer. Or even water.

The water I pop two Advil with doesn't diminish the dryness in my mouth. I swallow a few more sips hoping the sour taste and tight feeling will subside, but I give up when a few sips become two full glasses. Clearly I'm just not meant to feel better so soon, and light beer would probably be a better solution.

With four hours left before my exam, I walk slowly down the stairs and into the kitchen, where I'm welcomed with the delicious scent of freshly baked pancakes and bacon grilled to perfection. Harry stands in his boxers by the stove, a plane black t-shirt covering his chest, and he flips a pancake on his pan while giving me a warm smile. But now that I've sobered up and that everything we've said to each other in the evening is crystal clear in my head, his dimples have lost all their effect on me. My heart tightens and I walk past him to the table without giving him a second glance, chin up and confidence high.

"I have a meeting this afternoon. I've got to keep the car, if you don't mind," Harry chimes as he brings pancakes and bacon at the table. "I'll drive you to school."

Knowing Harry, I couldn't expect him to apologize right away. However, a simple acknowledgement of the fact that we did indeed have a fight would've been appreciated in order for me to trick him into apologizing. His casual phrase with the cheeky dimpled grin on his face just doesn't do it for me. "I'll take the bus, if you don't mind."

He sits beside me and hunches over to shovel food down his throat. "You're angry," he states matter-of-factly with his mouth full.

At least he knows, I tell myself with a loud sigh. I remember vividly telling him that I didn't hate him, but I never actually said that I wasn't angry. The alcohol just made me sound happier than I actually was... "I just want to take the bus."