Summertime Douchebag (COMPLETE/WILL EDIT)

Chapter 23 Alt.

HEY GUYS. THIS TIME THIS CHAPTER HAS 5.8K WORDS. A COUPLE MORE CHAPTERS LEFT UNTIL THE STORY ENDS. ABOUT 12 MORE PROBABLY. SO IF YOU HAVENT YET, PLEASE VOTE WHAT YOU WANT THE CHAPTER TO BE ABOUT HERE:

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I'm also sorry to the girl that requested not to do alternative chapters but I think this chapter is a lot better than the original so please don't hate me.

Ily all ((:

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3 days later... (Night before the wedding)

I was laying in bed until I heard glass shatter, and yelling.

I quickly stood up and looked outside of my window, and into Harry's.

I saw Robin walk out of the house and stomp to his car, slamming his door.

I was debating whether I should talk to Harry or not, but then I remembered I cared about his feelings... a lot.

I climbed out of my window, and knocked on his. He took quite a long time to open the window, and when he did he said,

"I'm going out for a shag."

I quickly analyzed his face. His cheek was all bruised up and he had a cut on his jaw. His eyes were hooded, and he had a hard time trying to open them. He slurred his words, then I realized he was drunk and high.

And even though I wasn't invited in, actually I was literally told to leave him alone, I pushed passed him to grab a wet washcloth from his bathroom.

I told him to sit down and he did.

He doesn't remember anything from yesterday.

He got into a fight with Anthony because Anthony once again called him a dumbass and he couldn't take it anymore considering his dad was getting married to another woman.

I couldn't bear it because he was so drunk, he forgot that his mom had died. He was saying things like,

"My mum is doing everything she can to make my dad happy. And he repays her by doing this?!"

He also doesn't remember being so drunk that he couldn't drive home. He was purposely swerving too much that I had to take the wheel for a while. I finally got annoyed and demanded we sleep inside his car until he wasn't drunk anymore. He had pillows and blankets in his car and I asked him why he had them.

He said,

"I don't like going home sometimes."

We slept in his car, his arm wrapped around me. He kept murmuring words like,

"Please stay with me."

And,

"You're so good to me."

He doesn't remember punching his car, he doesn't remember me taking care of him, and most importantly, he doesn't remember establishing his death. I was incredibly happy about that.

Did I mention he was establishing his death?

It went something like this.

I was washing off the dried blood on his knuckles and wrist. I asked him,

"Can you please stop doing this?" And added, "I'm keeping my promise, the least you can do is do the same."

He says,

"It's exhausting doing this sometimes. It really doesn't affect me at all."

"Don't you dare do what I think you're thinking of doing. Don't Harry." I growled.