the moon [h.s.] - EDITING

seventy-three.

Oh, my god she can't take a hint.

She's still sitting at the place where he left her and Harry knows he can't return. He has to leave. Maybe he wasn't meant to be a nightclub where it's loud and full of people wanting to hook up. A regular pub filled with pool games and sad drunk men like him probably feels more suitable. That's sad, but Harry finds it to be true.

»»

One more drink becomes five in a short span when Harry finds a new quiet bar to drown his sorrows in. It was nearby the nightclub he originally went to. He didn't have to take a cab. He just walked through the crisp winter air with his hands deep into the pockets of his coat.

Harry can't even keep his head up, it feels like. He didn't sip at the liquor as he was supposed to and now he's a little drunk. He feels like he's seeing things.

His phone is vibrating on the table in front of him. It shifts slightly with every vibration it makes and Harry has to blink a few times because he has to be seeing things. Luna is not calling him. She can't be. Not after she spent two whole weeks ignoring him and sending him to voicemail.

But she is. She's calling and Harry reaches for his phone after realizing it. He brings his phone to his ear. "Luna?" He says softly and his breathing picks up.

"Harry..."

Oh, god. It's her. Her voice. It sounds like heaven in his ear. He suddenly has no idea what to say or do. He's waited fourteen days to hear from her. He knew exactly what to say if she ever answered his calls. Now, he's drawing blanks. He only gets off the barstool and he has to hold onto the counter to keep his balance.

"I, um... I only called to tell you to stop calling Santi," she tells him.

Harry's making his way outside of the bar slowly since everything seems to be moving around him. He then sucks in a breath from hearing what she said. He's guilty of calling her brother. Santiago had given Harry his number in case of an emergency after he left back home to Iowa. He told himself he wouldn't call at first, but he felt like he had no other option. This was an emergency. "Luna," he mumbles. "I'm sorry. Baby... Baby, come home," he pleads like a sad little boy as the cold air fills his lungs. He coughs from it and groans softly as he leans himself back against the brick wall of the bar.

"Harry... I am home," she whispers.

"No! Luna, no... Why are you doing this t-to me? We were fine. You've just met my mum. We had an amazing New Year's. What's changed? What did I do to make you leave me? You're my home, why can't I be yours?" He groans again and covers his eyes when tears want to spill out of him. He's cried so much already. He'd be surprised if he has any tears left.

"Harry... I'm sorry. Please, stop calling."

He can hear her whimpers and soft strained voice through the line and it breaks his heart even more. "I can't, Luna. I miss you!"

"I-I miss you, too..."

Harry hears her, but he's too drunk to listen. He shakes his head as he leans off the wall and starts to walk elsewhere. "No, you don't... This is the first time I've heard your voice in over two weeks. You left me! Do you know how it felt to walk into your room and see your stuff gone? Do you know how that fucking felt after you said you loved me the night before? Dammit, Luna! How can you do that to me if you really loved me? I guess you're right... You're selfish! I'm so angry at you because I fucking love you so much, but you're a selfish girl! You only think of yourself, Luna..."

He hears a louder whimper escape her and maybe it's because of his harsh tone and choice of words. He also hears sniffles. "You're drunk, aren't you? Go home and get some sleep. I'm gonna let you go now," she says in a soft tone.