shelter {zs}

(10) sunflower

Tw// drug consumption 

Two Years Later. 

Harry was three lines in and still standing. He looked at himself in the mirror, faint dots swirling around his head, his stomach lurching because of the excess alcohol consumption and white powder coating the top of his lip. Usually around his third line he got a little messy.

He wiped his nose.

"Wow you really did powder your nose." Samara pushed the squeaky door in and entered.

Harry could only hum because his tongue felt heavy.

See, he wasn't an addict, it was occasionally snorted a line or two at parties and this was one of those times when he had decided to let go.

"I came here to ask you out for a beer pong match but you're done for today I think. Want me to drive you back to your apartment?" Samara asked.

"I'd like that." His eyes felt heavy with sleep and his brain wasn't fully functioning. He didn't want to do anything he'd regret.

"Aw come here are you feeling sad?" He felt Samara's arms around his shoulders and it was like a damn that broke and all the tears came rushing out in a go. He could barely feel anything. "So predictable, you get like this every time after."

They stayed in the grimy wash room of the dingy bar they frequented around their campus, swaying to vibrations of the music coming through the thin walls.

"Mmf I hate it here." Harry groaned into their shoulder.

"Me too but we gotta get that degree." They said, "Luckily it's the week end, I'm thinking you can sleep it off."

"I really can't, I have two dues on Monday and one on Wednesday and I don't know how I'm going to make time between my choir practice." he whined, sniffing.

"There, there." Samara patted his back.

Eventually they made it out of their small bubble back into the bar. Harry flung his jacket over his shoulders and shivered.

Harry had basically tricked his brain into thinking he liked this life. It wasn't until he was little on the edge of being black out drunk did he think about life in general.

Because see, that was a fatal topic.

He watched, his brain hazy, as Samara hugged one of their friend who Harry couldn't recall the name of, goodbye and dragged Harry out by his arm.

"Are you sure you're okay?" They asked him.

"You said a few seconds ago how I get like this everytime." Harry shrugged, "I'll be fine I just want to go under cover."

"You wanna come over my place? Since Mason moved out, I have a spare bed." They offered.

"Oh yeah, how's that going for you, living alone?" He physically cringed at the question, Mason was Samara's long term boyfriend, of course breaking up was going shitty for them.

"Surprisingly well," they smiled, "But worry about me tomorrow."

Harry hadn't even realize they were walking until they reached Harry's car that he had parked a block down.

"It's cold." Samara huffed out a breath and Harry could see the mist. Harry wasn't feeling cold, maybe because of the cocaine still fresh in his system or he was just numb to his senses.