HS - Wish You Were Here - Part 1 - Harry Styles

Chapter 36

OLIVIA'S POV

APRIL

I close my eyes and take a deep breath as I fumble around for my house keys in my handbag.

If it was acceptable, I would lie down right here on Harry's door mat and have a nap.

I am beyond exhausted from having had a terrible week at work, our computer system went down and we had to manually process every order that came through, making Frankie stressed and the rest of the team scrambling to keep up with the influx of work. 



Those stressful hours in the office however, were a holiday compared to the nightmare I was living in at home. Once Harry had started drinking, he had barely stopped, taking a break only in order to get stoned first or when he was passed out.

His mum, Anne, was calling me daily as I left the house to go to work and I would console her until I reached my desk, handle everything at work and then go home to whatever Harry was going to throw at me to deal with that night.

I was running completely on empty, simply just trying to get through the days making sure Harry didn't hurt himself or go out in public and cause more damage than necessary.

I had stopped quickly on the way home from work to buy him a new photo frame after he had smashed the one on his desk last month, when I saw another magazine cover with him on it.

It was another unflattering photo of Harry and a story about his life spiralling out of control with drugs and booze and I wondered whether he was leaving the house when I was at work in order for people to know to write about this stuff.

I pull my keys out of my bag and hold my breath in anticipation for what I might find behind the door tonight.

"Harry?" I call as I look around the empty living room, pieces of scrunched up paper litter the floor as per usual and the bottle of bourbon he has been drinking today sits on the table next to a clean glass he obviously planned on using and decided against.

I sigh, wondering where he keeps getting the alcohol considering I keep searching the house for it and never find any. I walk down the hall where I can hear a faint sound coming from his room.

I open the door cautiously, preparing myself for whatever scene I might uncover, but he is no where to be seen.

I walk past the broken frame Mrs. Stewart had picked up from the floor and lay down on his desk, the glass shattered in the broken timber rectangle, before I hear commotion coming from the master bathroom connected to Harry's room.

I hear the clanging stop and a faint buzzing noise start as I swing the door open.

"Harry NO!" I scream, startling him.

He is standing at the mirror in a pair of black skinny jeans, slightly swaying to hold onto his balance from too much alcohol and his shirt is discarded or maybe he just hadn't put one on today.  In one hand he holds the front of his hair up towards the ceiling and in the other he has an electric shaver pointed directly at his head.

I pull the plug from the wall just in time before he recovers from my outburst.


"I want to shave it off! I fucking hate it." He screams at me, his glassy eyes looking straight through me and he struggles to swallow.

"Ok, ok," I say out of breath, "if you want to that's fine, Harry, but just let me do it so you don't hurt yourself." I bargain. 



"No! I want to do it," he slurs and confirms he isn't in the right frame of mind to be making this decision.