Intent 2: Fight or Flight [Wattys 2017] (ON HOLD)

Chapter 2

Harry

"What happened last night?"

My once slow and docile tone quickly abandoned as I storm through his attempt to answer me and I speak up again.

"What the hell happened? "Why didn't Emma come here last night? You said Emma was on her way but she never showed up. Why did she change her mind? Where did she go? Have you seen her? Is she alright? And why was I on the bloody bathroom floor?"

"Harry, just stop for a moment." Liam glares at me.

Someone isn't taking any of my shit today. Can't blame him really, the people around me have been letting me get away with way too much in recent weeks. It's not there fault, I'm a stubborn arse.

"Sorry 'bout leaving you in the loo, couldn't shift you once you had settled." He admits, anxiously rubbing the side of his face.

"Liam, seriously, I really need you to give me something here. I know it's not my place to even ask but where is Emma? Please mate." I stutter out, fisting the sheets in my hands, trying to relieve some tension.

"You listened to the voicemail then?" Honestly I don't know if he wishes I did or not. The look on his face lends to the latter.

But why?

"Liam please just... I don't remember a bloody thing so please..."

Without a word, he turns around and walks into the kitchen. What the hell?

I stumble out of bed and follow him through the apartment, completely dumbfounded as to why he won't just spill what he knows. It's not as if he acted like the ultimate drunken prat last night and did god knows what.

Is it really that bad?

"Yes, it is." He mutters his response to the question I didn't know I spoke aloud. Still, Liam isn't looking at me.

My mind goes every which way thinking of the possibilities of what I could have done, but my hangover combined with Liam's sheer presence in my flat along with the little bits that I can remember, my mind's a muddle. Can't think clearly.

As a result of Liam's continued silence, I blurt out the most ridiculous question I can think of, distraught with anxiety and mystery.

"Did I really punch Marcus?" Mentally slapping myself for how insignificant this is compared to everything else going on.

"What?" Liam asks alarmed and visibly confused. "I don't know anything about that. Jesus Harry. What the hell else did you..."

"Alright, forget that." I attempt to brush him off. Emma's father is the very least of my problems. The prick deserved what I think I gave him last night. I hardly know why I brought it up, but Liam won't let it go.

"Who the hell is Marcus and why do you think you punc–"

"Liam, drop it. Tell me what you know from last night." I begin to pathetically beg my best mate.

If I thought I had hit rock bottom having slept on my bathroom floor, begging Liam to tell me what I got up to last night is right there with it.

"But Harry if you–"

"Dammit Liam!" I burst at him. My whole body is cold and my hands are visibly shaking. I feel like a terrified school boy simply wanting to get the scary part over. "Why won't you tell me? Why are you even here?"

His face pales at my words, probably mirroring my own, and a twisted knotted lump materializes and roots itself in my throat. Disappointment and nervousness, that's all I see in his face. What a wonderful combination, always reassuring.