Dearest Juliet (Harry Styles)

Thirty One: Last Lesson

There was something wrong. 

I could tell that even in the state I was in, which happened to be conscious enough to know that I was dreaming, but not conscious enough to actually be counted as conscious.

There was something though. Something that wasn't supposed to be there. I could hear it in the back of my mind, but I couldn't place it.  It was soft and rhythmic, but then it would get loud and sporadic. I was not awake enough to register what the sound was. 

I was pulled further out of my dream state while trying to concentrate on that noise, and now I realized that I was in my bed. The noise came out a little clearer to my fogged brain, and it wasn't exactly a banging, but a sort of rapping maybe?

I struggled once again to free my mind from the sleepiness, finally getting enough control over my body to knit my eyebrows in concentration. Listening harder, I found that it was knocking. 

Somebody was knocking on my door. 

With this realization, I had fully come out of the dream state and into the dreaded groggy state of mind. 

"HARRY, OPEN THE DOOR!" 

I jumped three feet in the air, not landing on my bed correctly. I ended up rolling off and landing hard on the ground from the sudden noise. Well, now myself and all my neighbors were up and fully functioning. 

I got up from the floor feeling around for my door. After I had yanked that open, I started walking out of my room gingerly.  Unfortunately, it was taking my eyes forever to adjust to the dark lighting, and I ended up tripping over a table, falling to the floor with no grace and later hitting the corner of a wall with my hip.

"Ouch." I groaned rubbing my hip while groping the wall for a light switch, but quickly turning it back off when I realized just how bright light actually was at whatever forsaken hour it is right now. 

By the time I had reached my front door the knocking had started up again, and I was about ready to kill whoever was on the other side of the door. I opened it up, but the fierce words in my mouth were stopped by the shock of who was standing in front of me. 

"Andromeda?" I asked. I mean, I probably could have figured out who it was if I had actually taken the time to put the pieces of the last fifteen minutes together, but, in my defense, I was a little sleepy. 

"It's Andie." was her involuntary reply to me. 

I stared her down for a moment, "Did you come here for an apology?" I laughed, remembering the time she had done that, "Because you aren't getting an apology."

"It's been like three seconds, and you," She poked my chest for emphasis, "are already being a jerk." 

"Yeah, well, you," I poked her stomach, "are a liar." 

She bit her lip, probably holding back a comment that was most likely less than complimenting, "I apologized for that, Styles." Andie said after a moment.

"Yeah, well an apology just isn't going to cut it." I hissed, making her look away from me.

"Well," She said with what I thought was a hint of sadness in her voice. "it's good that I didn't come here to get an apology then." 

I looked at her, my eyes finally clearing up from the fogginess that held them captive before. She looked the same on the outside as she always did. Her hair was falling around her face and her make-up was a little smudged. Standing steady on her ever-present heels, she was in her jeans and winter jacket, but I saw through it. 

I saw the bagginess in her jeans, because she had lost a little bit of weight she had tried so hard to gain back. I saw the circles under her slightly bloodshot eyes. I saw every crack in her facade, but the only reason I could see it was because her open wounds greatly resembled mine.