the writer // harry styles au

chapter 13

"She's so chill. Never asking to go out all the time, never pouncing on me for money. That's was Vanessa did. Do you remember Vanessa? I remember her. But I want to remember Alexis. Sweet. brown bangs and blue eyed Alexis.

"I mean, she's not the prettiest of girls. Or the most pristine. She always has dry lips. She fixes her fringe a lot, but that can be cute. I love her either way, though. Fuck, man. I love her."

"Her or Alice?" Niall asked.

"How do you know about Alice? Did fucking Zayn tell you?"

"No, man. You told me, like, 20 minutes ago?" Niall laughed. He was fucking enjoying this. "So, Alice or Alexis?"

I took a deep breath. It was Alexis I was in love with, not Alice. Alice had perfect, heart shaped lips that were soft and delicate, but I loved Alexis' dry lips that were rough to kiss. Alice never fixed her fringe because it always looked perfect. I love Alexis' little messy fringe. It's not Alice that I'm in love with. Fuck no it's not. It's Alexis.

"Alexis. I love Alexis," I told Niall.

He cheered, smashing the steering wheel, causing it to honk. "Alright. Styles, you're at my place tonight so I can remind you of what you just said tomorrow morning. My man's in love!" Niall was ecstatic.

"Your man's in love!"

***

The morning was horrible. My head was throbbing, my eyes were blurry and I was throwing up the entire contents of my stomach. Niall stood behind me, laughing.

"Do you ever not laugh, Niall?" I asked, turning to look at him while I kneeled in front of the toilet.

"Yeah, sure. Every once in a while I tone down the laughing."

I shook my head, turning it back around to face the bowl.

Only the slightest of details were still fresh in my mind. Like the decision to drink all the shots Zayn ordered for our table. I remembered the way each one burned it's way down my throat, numbing. I thought it'd hurt more, more than the void Alexis had created in my heart - more like the void I'd created in my heart. I was so fucking stupid and in love. I love Alexis. Oh, fuck. That happened last night. I remember the way the carpet of the bar felt against my cheek, rough and warm, as I complained about my Alexis fuck up. I remember Zayn grabbing my shoulders, telling me something inspirational, probably.

"Okay, mate. I'm going to tell you something you said last night," Niall said. He pulled me up from the toilet bowl by my shirt. He moved me to face him, hands on either one of my shoulders, like what Zayn had done last night.

He huffed, saying,"Last night you said you were in-"

"Love with Alexis," I interrupted.

Niall laughed, slapping my shoulder. "Yeah, you are."

I laughed with him. I didn't know what else to do. Do I just leave and run to Alexis' door, telling her I'm sorry and that I'm in love with her? There's not a better option presenting itself, so why not? I haven't been in love in so, so long. The last time I was in love I was 16 and naïve. She'd decided to date some other guy before I told her I loved her. I was so angry, so mad, so I wrote. It was the first time I'd written something so descriptive and filled it with so many emotions. I'd written about 10 pages just listing all the things I'd fallen in love with. Then I'd written 10 more pages about how those things meant nothing to me anymore. How just from her betrayal, I was done with her. So maybe it was love, because I didn't get drunk or hate myself like I did with this breakup - or whatever it is. I didn't complain that my high school love had broken up with me, I didn't travel into a pit of alcohol and dirty underwear. I kept going. If I didn't have Alexis, I didn't have Alice. There go two things that I had going for me.

I left Niall's house just after 12. I was going to go home, have a shower and then go out and find Alexis. Niall offered to drive me home, but I decided it'd be better to walk, let my mind wander.

It was nice, the walk home. It's winter; cold and windy, the paths are constantly wet, snow shoved to the sides, allowing a walkway for passers-by. My coat isn't enough to keep me warm. The cold air worked it's way through the coat's fibres and onto my skin. Goosebumps appeared all up my arms. I'd read that you're more likely to die in hot weather than cold, as you body's able to heat up better rather than cool down. Sweat is constantly described in novels when a character is nervous; it's also the way the a person cools down. So, my theory is, if you're so nervous, and you're sweating, you're most probably hot. You think it's a life or death situation, you're stressing and freaking out and sweating. If you were to die from heat overload, you'd be sweating. So maybe being nervous is somewhat like dying. At least I know if Alexis rejects me tonight I can run away into the cold night for hours and know my body has a higher chance of staying alive than it would in summer. And if I'm sweating, I know I'm fucked.

(A/N: Hi guys! So recently 'the writer' has been gaining more reads everyday, which is insane! Thank you so much for reading, and don't forget to vote and comment! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Also, I apologise for the abundant spelling mistakes in previous chapters. I usually just publish the chapter because I'm so excited for you guys to read it!)