Insider || hs

Whiskey

When Harry got off work, he was exhausted. The day had been filled with angry phone calls from aggravated clients, mountains and mountains of paperwork, and far too many texts from the girl he had last gone out with trying to get him to go out with her again. Seeing her name on his phone screen made him weary, as he had already told her that this week was not a good week for him to see her, and so Harry turned his phone on 'do not disturb' since he didn't want the notifications bothering him all night. He would have to turn her down eventually, but he just didn't have the energy to do it that night. When he got home, he wanted to eat, read a little, and fall asleep on the couch like he used to. After all, Freddie was probably at Damien's anyway, so she wouldn't mind if he slept in the living room.

Harry trudged up the stairs of his apartment complex, regretting taking the stairs as soon as he passed the third floor. He had three more to go though, so he had to power through the burn in his legs and make it to the sixth floor. Once he got there, Harry rolled his eyes as he struggled to fish his keys out of his bag. They always got lost at the bottom. Unlocking the door, Harry was faced with a whole host of smells and images that he hadn't been expecting. Apparently, Freddie was home after all.

Harry was struck by the nearly tangible aroma of sugar in the air, but as he saw the mountains of cookies and cupcakes covering nearly every surface of his apartment, he came to understand somewhat what was going on. Freddie had apparently come home early, and she had baked enough pastries for probably fifty people. He wondered what kind of party they could possibly have been meant for. But then he saw the empty whiskey bottle on the counter, and suddenly, Harry wasn't so sure that Freddie was baking for a party at all. If she was drinking and baking, then something was up with her.

"Freddie?" Harry shut the door and looked around the apartment, but she didn't answer. He checked the bathroom and also found that her room was empty. Where had she gone? But more importantly, what was the occasion for all these desserts?

Pulling out his phone, Harry was surprised to see that he already had a text from her, telling him that he could help himself to the food in the kitchen. He frowned. There were far too many typos for her to have been sober when she sent that message, and it worried him. How drunk was she, and where did she run off to?

He texted her back.

Harry: Thanks! Are you home, or did you go out?

She responded within seconds.

Freddie: not out. up.

Harry frowned again. She wasn't making any sense.

Harry: where are you?

Freddie: roof

Freddie: its up there

Freddie: lol :)

Worried, Harry quickly tossed his bag on the floor and went right back through the door, locking it before heading to the elevator. Hoping to find that Freddie was okay, Harry made his way up to the roof, careful not to waste any time in doing so. If she was drunk, as she supposed she was, Harry was pretty sure that it was a terrible idea for her to be out there on the roof alone and under the influence.

Stepping out onto the roof, Harry looked around the mostly-barren, concrete space and hoped that this was the roof Freddie had spoken of. When at first he didn't see her, he worried that maybe she hadn't even meant she was on the roof at all. After all, from her texts, she seemed pretty fucked up, so maybe she was just saying things.

Propping the door open with a brick, Harry ventured further out onto the roof in search of Freddie. As he walked the perimeter and rounded the corner, Harry's attention was immediately drawn by Freddie's voice calling to him from somewhere in the distance.