I awoke to a beaming light, and a splitting head ache. I could barely open my eyes, and my brows were furrowed together. I peeled my eyes open, and looked around. The light was coming from a window. Where the hell was I? I remember passing out on the couch last night. I slowly look around the room, and stop at the nightstand. There was a glass of water, and two pill caplets. There was also a white slip of paper. I picked it up, and shoved it up to my face, squinting as I read it.

Emma, you passed out on the couch, so I carried you up to my room. Here are two Advils, because you'll have a headache when you wake. I put your shoes in the closet. Sorry, for everything.

P. S. I slept on the couch, in case you were wondering. Call me or Louis when you wake up.


I looked around the room, for my glasses, and my shoes. Which were surprisingly right where he said they were. I got my glasses from the small nightstand, along with the two Advil, and popped them into my mouth, I picked up the water and drank it. I grabbed my phone and called Louis.

"Hey this is Louis! Obviously I'm busy, and not answering. Leave a message, if you dare!" His voicemail spoke. A beep came shortly after.

"Hey Lou," I said groggily. "I'm trying to get over my first hangover ever. And I'm at your house. Also you don't have to yell into your phone. Ok bye," I say quietly. I look around the room, trying to think if how I'm getting home.

I stand and slip my shoes on, grabbing the note and shoving it in my pocket. I open the door, and try to remember where the stairs are. I roam around the hallways before finally finding them. I slowly climb down them, trying to not wake anyone. I find my way to the kitchen, and put the glass I drank from in the sink. I walk around, trying to see if anyone's awake. I take notice to how clean the place is, which shocks me because there was a party not even twelve hours ago. I stalk into the living room, and look for Harry, who was supposed to be sleeping on the couch. But he wasn't. A pillow, and a folded blanket were in his place. I walk outside the front door, and sit on the porch steps. I pull out my phone, and hesitate before hitting 'call'.

"Hello?" a raspy voice says.

"Harry? Is that you?" the sun is almost blinding, as I quickly stand, and start pacing.

"Yeah, Emma?" he asks.

"Yeah, um I called Louis, and he didn't answer," I say, my voice trailing.

"Ok, are you still at the house?"

"Yeah, where are you?"

"Ok, I'll be there shortly. Go back up to my room, and lock the door" he says sternly.

"Why?" I ask.

"So no one walks in on you," he states, before hanging up. I do as I'm told, and walk back up to his room, locking the door behind me. I walk over to his shelves, where he has pictures of himself and other people. I look at the top shelf, and find a baby picture of him, I feel myself smiling, and looking at the rest. I come across a picture of him, and two girls. One a little older, and the other looked around the same age. They all looked alike, so I assume they're family. Another is of him and an extremely tan girl, he has his arm around her. She has long golden hair and brown eyes, she's looking at the camera, and he's looking at her. But not just any look. A look of complete adoration, fascination, lust, or love. I pick the picture frame up, and hold it in my hands, I keep staring at the girl, who's gorgeousness is hard to look away from. Was she his girlfriend? Were they still together? I take the photo out of the frame, and flip it over.

To many years of happiness, my love.

Harry, and Liz.

It read. I kept looking at the words written across the picture. Before I slipped it back into its frame, and putting it back into its rightful place. I go over to his closet, and push the doors open, again. This time I take the time to let the refreshing mint smell in. Sniffing slowly, and smiling. I slowly look around the small closet, seeing all Harry's clothes, which mostly consisted of black. I picked up a shirt of his, and held it to my face, I couldn't possibly get enough of his smell. I placed his shirt back, and shut the doors. I turned to his desk. I sit down in the chair, and look over the papers scattered over it. All of them seem to be notes or the sort, from school. My eyes widen as I come across a paper, and pick it up.

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