Invisible || h.s.

34: Breakthrough

Hey guys! Hopefully, this 7K+ chapter will make up for the long wait. Also, if you're uncomfortable with the topic of abuse, please skip the first part of this chapter (it's nothing graphic, but still).

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Everything felt hazy as my eyelids slowly peeled themselves open the next day. My heartbeat pounded in my chest, and I wasn't sure if it was the taste of vodka on my tongue or my inability to piece the fragments of last night together, but I could barely stop myself from panicking. Situations like these reminded me why I'd chosen to avoid drinking in the first place—Anxiety and Alcohol are two A's that just don't mix well.

Then there was the sudden onslaught of nausea and dizziness, coupled with a wave of sharp pain resembling a thousand needles drilling tiny holes into my brain. You'd think that after our last drinking stunt with Heidi and Niall I would have known better, but no. Safe to say, I had finally learned my lesson; I was not touching an alcoholic drink in the foreseeable future.

The sleeping body next to me twitched, so with great effort, I slowly rolled over, my eyes swiping over Harry's peaceful form on the bed. He was laid on his back, one arm placed above my head in an almost-embrace, the other resting on his bare chest which rose with each slow breath he took. Long brown curls were scattered messily on his white pillow, face turned in my direction as if he were watching me, even in his sleep.

I could feel my heartbeat quicken just from looking at his face, the sight triggering memories of last night; specifically the way it had ended.

Cautiously peeking underneath my cover, I let out a breath of relief seeing my underwear still very much in its place. Regardless of the delicious memory of Harry's hands on me, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had maybe, possibly, gone too far. It felt like I remembered most of the night, but surely there was a possibility that we had done more than just fool around, and it had slipped my mind in my drunken haze.

"What are you lookin' down there for?" Harry's morning voice was low and raspy, one of his eyes popped open to stare at me curiously.

"Oh— H-hi," nerves trashed in my belly as I pulled the covers up to my chin, wanting to hide my flushed face from his wandering eyes. Harry paid me no mind, instead stretching his arms above his head with what sounded like a painful groan. Clearly, he was experiencing the aftermath of our late night partying as well, and I couldn't help but feel guilty, knowing I had been the one to encourage him to pick up a drink.

"Hi," his lip quirked pulling a dimple into his cheek before as his eyes finally focused on me. "Again, why are you lookin' underneath your covers like you'd lost something?"

"Um, I was thinking," I stammered, finally braving a look into his sleepy eyes. "Did we, you know....?"

The way his lips curled up into a grin had my nerves melting away in an instant. "Sugar, I think I'd told you multiple times to use your words. Be a little more specific for me, 'right?" he teased.

"You know exactly what I mean, Harry!" I snapped my gaping mouth shut, trying to ignore the pang of embarassment in my chest. A lot of times I had to remind myself that other people thought differently than me; that they didn't freak out over every insignificant detail as if it was the end of the world.

Harry's nonchalant reaction was completely justifiable, especially since we had been close before; after all, this is what we had both agreed on.

However, to me, this whole thing with Harry felt like standing on the edge of that waterfall again. I may not have had the dream version of my mother urging me to jump anymore, but the level of fear and anxiety was eerily similar, except for one major difference—this time I couldn't just carelessly jump, I had to think each step through and make sure I landed on my own two feet.