Facade [h.s]

eight

I woke up in my bedroom, my light grey bedsheets wrapped around me as I lay on my mattress. I opened my eyes but closed them again right after, the brightness of the light way too intense and making my head hurt. I shielded my vision from the sunlight coming from the window and stared up at the white ceiling, sighing.

I didn't remember having gotten back home. I wondered if I'd done it on my own, or if I woke up there only thanks to Harry. I took a deep breath, a hint of nausea at the back of my throat, not enough for me to get worried about it. I finally sat up, slowly, trying to contrast the aching in my head, furrowing my eyebrows when I discovered I was wearing the same clothes of the night before - minus my shoes, of course. I sighed again as I realised that Harry had been the one to take me home, contrary to what I'd hoped. I would've never slept under the blanket in dirty clothes.

I turned and put my feet on the floor, stopping in my tracks and listening carefully for any sound that would tell me Amelie was at home. I frowned when I realised that there were none and automatically looked at the alarm clock on my nightstand, widening my eyes when I discovered that it was already past midday. I'd never overslept that much before.

I stood up, waiting for the thumping in my head to become less strong before walking out of my bedroom and entering the kitchen, finding a pack of pills on the table. I shook my head, assuming that it'd been an unexpected kind act by Amelie, and took a couple, downing them with a glass of water, before leaning back against the table and closing my eyes, hoping that it'd help the headache subside.

After a few seconds I moved to the couch and cuddled up in a corner, starting to regret my decision of getting drunk. I definitely shouldn't have done that, it had been a stupid idea, but Harry had been extremely convincing, and I hadn't been able to say no. And now I felt sick, and I couldn't tell if I wanted to puke or eat something. Both, probably.

I closed my eyes, deciding that a little nap on the couch wouldn't have hurt me and would've possibly made the prospect of eating a little more appealing.

It seemed like no time has passed when the doorbell suddenly rang. I opened my eyes and stared at the door, sending it a little glare because of the loud sound, quickly deciding to pretend I wasn't in the house in hopes of being left alone.

A few seconds went by, and I'd almost started to believe I'd made it when the doorbell went off again.

I sighed, realising that I probably wouldn't have gotten the little peace I wanted if I hadn't answered the door first. I stood up and made my way towards it, quickly opening it before it could ring another time. I instantly rolled my eyes when I saw who was on the other side. "Why are you here?" I asked, my question coming out more like a lament than anything else. Did he really always have to come around at the weirdest times?

Harry let out a chuckle at the evident distress in my voice, seeming to find enjoyment in my despair. "Just checking up on you. I got you drunk and you're hungover now, so I feel responsible, you know" he replied with a little shrug.

I eyed him up carefully. He was dressed in all black, the pretty shirt of the day before replaced by a more practical looking hoodie. He was still wearing earrings, nail polish and his rings though, the ring on the side of his nose a piece of jewellery he never took off, which made it obvious that his unexpectedly dressed down look was more temporary than anything else.

I shook my head. "I'm not in the mood for this" I said, motioning to his entire figure, and he sent me a humoured glance.

"I brought chicken nuggets and chips" he told me, holding up two white bags that I hadn't even noticed were in his hand before, the inviting smell suddenly reaching my nose.