Broken Misery (H.Styles Fanfic)

Chapter 32

Chapter 32

My first thought of the day is, What the fuck have I done?

The sun doesn't appear very often in the winter in England, but for some reason it had to come out today when some of us need it the less. I'm woken up by the strong, blinding rays bleeding from the curtain shades and it doesn't help nursing the hangover I'm trying to survive through. Beside me is a body that provides even more warmth to my awful morning, and for a second I wonder how Harry got in my bed, but I soon realize that I'm not even home. Or anywhere near Harry where I feel like I should be.

Vince lies under the sheets sprawled out on his stomach, bare naked just like I am with his arms tucked neatly under his pillow as head support. I watch him shift in his sleep when I sit up and take in the environment I'm in: messy one bedroom flat with no walls whatsoever between the bedroom, kitchen area and living room. All the furniture is black, paired with dark taupe walls and colored paintings framed on the walls where there aren't any windows. The table in the middle of the room is clustered, littered with papers, knick knacks, music instruments and alcohol bottles. The place we shared leftover cake in is still there, along with our shot glasses.

The apartment is very manly; it smells like a man, it looks like a man and it feels like a man. The air is thick with humidity from our sweat and cologne and alcohol. After coming back here last night, following a good dinner at the restaurant accompanied with one too many glasses of wine, we opened a bottle of Bailey's and fed our tipsy state into a drunken one. It'd been a nice dinner and we'd definitely had a nice time but I wouldn't have needed all this alcohol in my body if I hadn't slept with Harry during the afternoon.

Turns out that Vince does have a degree in finances but is currently working part time on a master's degree. Therefore in the meantime he's working at the bar because it pays more than working part time for a company in what he wants to do, which he hasn't exactly explained through. He didn't say much about himself, except that he's twenty-five and is a London native. I really didn't care much, anyway. All I did during the evening is try to forget some boy with curly hair.

Once the dizziness from sitting up and from the sun has lightly vanished, I retrieve my underwear and bra from the pile on the floor and cover my body with the dress I was wearing the night before. I can feel my hair being tangled in the bun on top of my head, my makeup dried after leaking on my face during sex, but everything feels wrong. I shouldn't be here and I shouldn't have gone to that date in the first place.

Harry had been nowhere to be found when I left the house and took the bus to the restaurant. His car was in the driveway along with the Mini Cooper I still haven't driven, but I assumed he was locked in his bedroom or in the gym. If I had seen him and if he'd said something, I probably wouldn't have left the house and though I know it would've been the right thing to do; now I have the chance to move on.

My stomach sinks when I catch a glimpse of my face in the bathroom mirror. My bangs are glued to my forehead from not being long enough to pull in my bun, my cheeks are flushed and shiny and I just look like a mess. I spray cold water on my skin and clean up the excess everything until I'm decent to go. Vince doesn't wake up when I scribble down my number on a napkin and he doesn't even stir when I close the door of the apartment on my way out.

Sunday morning is cold but sunny. This part of the city is completely unknown to me; I hardly remember getting here in the first place, but there's a bus stop down the street and I head straight to it, hoping it takes me to either to the train or to the tube.

My phone has died during the night. I click on the lock button for minutes but it never turns on, but I just hope I haven't received a message about Harry setting the house on fire. He was so livid when I left that I could've sworn there was smoke coming out of his ears, which could've resulted in igniting a fire out of anger inside the house. If that's the case, I'll literally have nowhere to live anymore.