Broken Misery (H.Styles Fanfic)

Chapter 43

So, here's the long awaited Chapter!

There are about 6 Chapters left but don't worry there'll be an Epilogue type of thing...❤

P.S.: Harry looks hot with short hair *-*

-Katexx

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Chapter 43

I blink a few times at the ceiling, adjusting my eyes to the light. And by light, I mean the very little amount of sun coming through the shades, because today seems to be another cloudy day in London. It always is cloudy at six in the morning, but today is just particularly dark and dull, and my whole body aches just at the thought of getting up and going through the day.

From the moment my eyes open, I know that when I turn around Harry won’t be lying in bed beside me. I could barely sleep tonight because I kept wondering if he’d call me or come home drunk, proclaiming his love for me after screwing up once more, but neither of those has happened. I texted him a couple of times, only to retrieve my phone with no new messages and an empty voicemail. 

At first I was angry, but then I realized that I knew he needed to deal with this on his own, in the prison that his mind has him locked. Harry has trouble talking about his feelings when it comes to anger and disappointment towards himself, and if he needs to do it alone, then so be it. But what I fear is all the mistakes he’s capable of doing when he loses himself in this bubble. He tends to get too closed up on himself and he doesn’t realize the impact of his actions on the spot. They hit later, and that's when the worse happens. 

Just as predicted, the bed is empty when I look, and his pillow doesn’t even seem like it’s been touched. I sigh and hop off the bed, heat burning in my eyes from the tears threatening to fall. I swallow them back and tell myself that everything is going to alright. I trust him, I really do, and the fact that he mentioned therapy makes me feel even better, but Anger and Harry never is a good mix. 

It turned out that what he broke a large hole next to the bathroom door, inside the bathroom. It explains why his knuckles we’re bleeding so much. But a whole in the wall is nothing next to anything else we have to deal with. A wall is easy to fix. He isn't.

I check my phone but no new messages show up. With a little bit of hope, I check the guest room, only to find it completely void of Harry's presence.

The house is quiet and dark, but I make my way downstairs anyway. Before walking into the kitchen, I take a peek at the front door, hoping that within the two and a half seconds he barges in the house, but that doesn’t happen either. 

Class is at nine-thirty, so I tiredly walk into the kitchen to make myself some coffee, but I scream and drop my mug on the floor when a cough emerges behind me. 

“Jesus, Elena, I’m so sorry,” Niall fucking Horan stutters behind me, jumping off the chair to pick up the shattered pieces of my mug. 

I stare at him in pure confusion. “Is Harry okay?” is the first thing I think of asking, because I’ve never really talked to Niall before and I wonder what he’s doing in our kitchen, drinking the coffee I was about to make. 

“Of course, of course,” he says quickly, dropping a few pieces of porcelain in the bin. “Didn’t you see him in the living room? He’s asleep on the couch.”

My eyebrows rise so high that I’m pretty sure they disappear above my hairline. I quickly take a few steps out of the kitchen and into the living room, and I have no idea how I possibly missed Harry’s long legs hanging off the couch, but he’s sound asleep on his back, his arms crossed on his chest and his skull-patterned bandana covering his eyes.