Awkward (Narry)

xxi.

I wake up, not unlike the television show, Naked and Afraid.

Having woken up in another person's bedroom before, I'm used to opening my eyes to a foreign landscape. That isn't the problem. Having woken up without clothes on before, I'm used to the draft. That isn't the problem either. So, what could possibly be the issue here? Simple.

Harry is gone.

How.

Fucking.

Rude.

I spend my night making sure that he is okay, that he is having fun, that he's not hurt, and this. This is what I get for it? Left at the altar, practically. Sitting up, I look around again just to be certain I didn't miss him the first time. Maybe he's in his makeshift kitchenette or getting dressed by the closet. Alas, no. He is most assuredly missing, and he most assuredly left me sleeping naked on his bed, without so much as a good morning. Or maybe he died too.

It's things like this that make me question my abilities, honestly. I know that I can't be so awful in bed that my partner runs away first chance he gets. If I am, there is no point in continuing life. Goodbye, cruel world. I am not the sex god I thought I was.

I stand and stretch my arms above my head. It doesn't appear as though Harry will be returning any time soon, so I don't see a reason why I should put my clothes back on. His basket of fruit sits appealingly on his counter, and I debate whether or not I should take an apple. I mean, I already took his virginity- taking something else is just cruel.

Deciding, I grab up my pajamas from the floor, quickly hop into the pants, toss the shirt over my head, and take the whole mother fucking basket back to my dorm room.

Setting it down on Louis' old desk, which is now of course empty, I grab my laptop from where Harry and I had left it last night and plug it in on my side of the room. Opening it up, I see that I forgot to shut it down last night in my rush to get into Harry's pants. Knowing how good that decision did me, well. I'm a little salty that the battery is run so low.

My phone chirps from somewhere in the mass of blankets and pillows on Louis' bed, and I sigh. I was literally just over there. Why didn't it chirp then? I stand with a huff, running my hands through my hair. Taking the pillows one by one, I toss them back onto my bed, figuring that at some point I'll either see my phone on Louis' or I'll hear a thud from it hitting the floor in my flurry of tossing pillows and blankets. Luckily, it's the first possibility.

Grabbing the phone, I see various text messages from people who are coincidentally not Harry Styles, as well as an email notification from Writerscape. I pick the text messages first.

One is from Louis' mom, telling me that she loves me and thanking me for packing up Louis' things. Another is from Jack Daniels, letting me know his brother stopped by and wanted to know what I wanted. A multitude of messages are from the team's group chat, where Coach told us practices were cancelled for the next few days due to Louis passing. The last message I check is from Papa Johns. I wasn't aware that I had them programed to text me things, but this pizza sale looks intriguing. I plan on taking full advantage of it.

After I make sure the obnoxious little red bubble is gone from my messaging app, I move onto my email. The red bubble says '1', but already knowing that it's from Writerscape ruins the illusion of feeling important. I click on the app, waiting for the message to fully download before opening it. Of course it's a message that styleofwonder sent out. Of course Harry has time to speak to his thousands of adoring fans, but not to the one who just willingly had sex with him. Of course.

• • •

NEW NOTIFICATION
styleofwonder broadcasted!

"Hello all. I'm sorry that I've been absent for the past few days.... Some intense shit has happened in my life. Sparing the details, I will just get right down to what you all truly care about. Lipstick Boy. As much as I had fun writing this story, I cannot continue. The boy who was the inspiration for it all was in a car crash four days ago, and I writing the story feels sacrilegious. He didn't even know I was using him, and how awful does that sound? That sounds awful. Wow. I used my friend, and now my friend is gone. If he knew, I think he would hate me, and because of that- I am discontinuing the story. I'm so sorry to all of you. I love you so much, and I'm so grateful for the support, but the guilt is too much.