Reason to be - Harry Styles ✓

2. The nightmare

At first, I was confused. I knew the repetitive sound I heard was somehow familiar, but not enough to identify it. Then I remembered my favourite screen saver and noticed it matched the noise, so I drew the obvious conclusion.

Waves.

I found that unusual. When my hands skimmed around my body, it felt soft, as I supposed sand was meant to be. How was I at the beach?

I tried to concentrate in the distance, making up the contour of the waves in before my eyes, but I was embraced by darkness. Candles from out of the blue were scattered all around me, but as countless as they were, they didn't illuminate enough for me to see the water.

I sighed in disappointment, when I felt a subtle shift besides me and realised I wasn't alone. I froze. Slowly, I moved my body as unnoticeably as possible, scared of who might have suddenly joined me. I saw a dark silhouette facing away from me, few centimeters preventing us from touching.

Worry pained my heart. Who was that? Why were they here? And more importantly, why was I so awfully hurt by their avoidance?

Involuntarily, my fingers reached out, demanding to touch that person, as if it would have brought me some kind of comfort. My mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out, engulfed in the painful silence that had fallen on the scenery.

Where were the waves?

I didn't know what bothered me more when I jolted up from the pillow, eyes wide and breath caught in my throat; not knowing who that person was or not actually finding out what real waves look like. I sighed. As real as a dream could be.

I barely acknowledged my friend's absence, as the empty feeling the dream gave me lingered in my mind. I dragged my feet unenthusiastically on the floor, the amplified sound by the silent house reminding me of an animal's scratch on an impenetrable surface. I naturally followed the hallway to the bathroom door, with the certitude that washing my face and teeth would cast out the reminiscence of the dream, but the sight of my own face in the mirror prevented it from going away. The terrified pale blue eyes, white cheeks, concerned twist of the dry lips and messy reddish blond hair were quite strong arguments standing for my absolute failure of forgetting what my own imagination had done to me.

I tried to shrug it off, moving like a machine around the house in an attempt to stick to a routine, hoping to calm myself down. It wasn't that I didn't see their face, I told myself as I strolled into the kitchen and decided I was too lazy to provide food other than cereal. Not even that I didn't even get to brush my fingers on their arm, I continued, mechanically bringing the spoon to my mouth. It was how it made me feel, I drew the conclusion, standing up to answer the frantic knocks at the door.

The hurt, empty, excruciating feeling in my heart that made it feel as if it had just shattered in pieces.

"You left without your keys again?" I asked, raising my eyebrows at my curly blonde, absent-minded friend. Although my face expression mimicked surprise, my tone traded nothing but nonchalance - I had got used to it.

"Shut up," Liz said, waving her hand dismissively as she walked past me inside the house. "I bought stuff for us."

"Stuff..." I trailed, doubt creeping in my voice.

"Wipe that worried look off your face, please, you're killing the mood," Liz scolded with a playful voice. "They're just clothes. Look!" she added, handing me one of the two plastic bags she was holding that I didn't bother to ask about when she first arrived.

The bag hid, indeed, two t-shirts and a pair of light blue denim shorts. One of Liz' choices were a white, soft fabric with a huge smiley face imprinted on it and a black, simple one. I looked at her in confusion, wondering which question I should ask first.

"Well, thank you, but why did you have to buy clothes?"

"Relax, I bought myself too," she said, not quite answering, as she got out a plain, red tank top and black shorts from the other bag.

"They're lovely, I'll pay you back as soon as—" I tried, but she cut me off.

"Don't worry about it," Liz said immediately, flashing a sincere smile. As confused I was by her excitement, I was moved by her kind gesture. It was one of the many times she would do that, while never letting me pay back, but the fact that she was thinking about me melted my heart every time.

"Thank you," I smiled, already folding the clothes and preparing to return to the kitchen, but she caught my hand and dragged me slightly in her direction.

"Come, I can't wait to do your make up!" she squealed, dragging me after her on the stairs.

"But, my cereal..." I protested, although I didn't physically stop her. Her happiness made me happy, but that much eagerness didn't often mean something good.

Nonetheless, I waited patiently on my bed for her to find all the cosmetics she needed, watching her with an amused look. I stood still the entire, endless time she worked on my face, even when she bother to curl my hair, strand by strand, making it look notably more decent. Then I praised her masterpiece as I gazed into the mirror, while she began doing her own. I went to change when she advised me to as she was straightening her hair, specifying that I could choose whichever of the t-shirts. I came back minutes later, wearing the black one, and she rolled her eyes at my sight, saying how predictable I was, then I returned to my waiting as I watched her finish her hair and go change in her own clothes.

"Now, what?" I asked, half amused, half worried.

"We wait," she shrugged, getting out her phone and beginning to scroll on her screen.

So I sighed and waited some more, until the sun had set and we were finally getting into her car, heading to whatever made her so excited and myself terrified.

The things I do for the people I love.