TW - This chapter mentions things related to panic and anxiety disorder, and may be triggering to some. Please put yourselves first.
I didn't mean to make this chapter another deep and dramatic one, I was free-writing and it just kind of happened.
Promise it will chill out for a bit after this :)
I immediately panic and embarrassment starts to flood through my body. Did somebody hear us?
"What the fuck do we do?" I whisper shout at Harry.
He doesn't speak a word, but just dramatically shrugs his shoulders and pulls that stupid fucking smirk again.
Someone knocks at the door again.
"For fucks sake," I say under my breath "If this is my Dad, tell him I want Stevie Nicks playing at my funeral." I whisper to Harry
He chuckles to himself, but still makes no effort to move towards the door.
I take a deep breath and open the door.
I'm met with a face I have never been so relieved to see, Meredith.
"Um... Hi," She says, an undeniable smirk on her face. She heard.
"Can I help you?" I asked her.
"Well, you'd been in here for almost 30 minutes and your Dad sent me to check on you to see if you're okay..." She glances over my shoulder to smirk at Harry.
"Clearly...You're okay..." She grins smugly, still smirking at Harry and trying to stop herself from bursting out laughing.
I turn round to look at Harry, who is looking down at his hands and adjusting some of the silver rings on his fingers, sniggering to himself like a child.
Shut the fuck up Harry.
"Yeah, well, this was fun, but I'm hungry." I storm past Meredith as fast as I can, trying to shake off this uncomfortable feeling that is tingling throughout my body.
I know one thing for sure though, I will be thinking about those fingers for a long, long time.
I take my seat at the table and catch Louis' eyes, and he gives me a knowing grin as he slips his phone into his back pocket. Fucking Meredith.
Meredith not long returns and a few minutes later so does Harry. He sits back down opposite me and doesn't look at me.
We are just in time for our food order as everyone starts to get their plates placed in front of them.
We all tuck into our meals, and I notice my order is the same thing that Harry ordered, the same dish we had that first night we came here.
I start eating my Carbonara Spaghetti and leaning over my plate to help get the food into my mouth as best as possible, as I lean back up to my natural posture, I meet his eyes once again, that damn smirk. He scrunches his nose up and opens his mouth as he does it, trying to hide his fucking smirk.
He takes a mouthful of food before pulling his phone out of his pocket. I look around the table to see that everyone is engaged in a conversation of some sort, not noticing me and Harry's interaction in the slightest.
He's still looking down at his phone under the table, so as he's distracted, I take another mouthful of pasta. His eyes look back up to mine as I slowly pull the fork out of my mouth. As it pops against my lips, his jaw starts to clench, and I return a smirk similar to the one he's been taunting me with since we came out of that bathroom.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I discreetly pull it out to see what it is.
H: Wonder what else that mouth can do?
A moment of realisation hits me, he's playing a game I didn't know we had started. Well, lucky for him, this is my favourite game.
I grin at him before looking into the middle of the table and see some garlic bread on a sharing platter.
I reach for some and grab a few pieces, putting them onto my side plate. I keep one piece in my hand and tear the edge of the baguette crust off. I let my tongue fall out of my mouth slowly and carefully place the piece of bread onto the edge of my tongue. I close my mouth, eating the bread and swallowing it. I see the shine of some left-over butter on my fingers and put my fingers into my mouth and suck them slowly, fully cleaning the grease off of them, keeping my eyes locked on Harry's.
He clears his throat before shifting in his seat and trying to sneakily adjust his pants. I see him.
I smile to myself, knowing what I've done to him before a voice pulls me from the force keeping my eyes focused to Harry.
"B!!" Zoe calls from the end of the table, "Come here, need to tell you something."
I stand up and walk over to where her and Adam are sat, holding each other's hands under the table.
She gestures for me to sit in the spare chair opposite them across the table and I frown with confusion as I pull the chair out and sit down.
Zoe is never serious with me, and the only time she ever pulls me for conversations like this is when she has really good news, or really bad news.
"B, me and Ad wanted to ask you something," she tells me nervously, "Well first we want to tell you something, and then we want to ask you something actually."
She starts to ramble, and I can tell she's anxious about something.
"Zoe, don't bullshit me, just tell me."
Adam chuckles to himself at my bluntness towards her.
"I'm pregnant" She blurts out
I gasp to myself. Her and Adam have been trying for years now but were yet to be successful.
"Zoe, that's amaz-"
"And I want you to be the Godmother." She cuts me off, clearly wanting to spit it out while she still has the guts to.
She wants me to be the Godmother? But, like...why?
"Zo, I don't know... I really don't think that's my thing" I tell her, I don't think I can deal with knowing I have that many people relying on me. It's hard enough with my Dad and now Harry's business. I don't know how much more I can take.
"Just think about it okay?" Adam chimes in. I've never really spoken to him like this before.
"Zoe didn't want anyone else, she immediately thought of you. We understand if you don't want to, you're only young, and you've got so much ahead of you, we know that, but this would really mean everything to the both of us." He finishes.
I'm lost for words.
I take a big sigh and say to them, "I'll think about it, okay? That's the best I can do for you, you know how I feel about this type of stuff."
"Thank you, B, thank you so much." Zoe says to me, with tears in her eyes.
I stand up and walk back to my seat after giving them both a hug and saying congratulations. As I start to sit back down, I'm met with the same piercing eyes that seem to find mine so easily.
He nods to me with a smile as I sit down, but this time there's no cheeky glimmer in his eye, and there's no playful smirk to be seen. It's genuine, and he's trying to find any sense of doubt or pain in my eyes and looking at me with the intent of getting rid of it. It makes me feel warm.
~~~~~~
I woke up the next morning feeling very stiff and achy.
Those damn fingers.
I stretch my legs out straight under my duvet and yawn.
I climb out of bed and walk out into the lounge area of my apartment.
"What the fuck?!" I shout, looking at the two figures laying on my sofa, cuddled into each other.
They're lying on top of each other, limbs tangled and twisted together.
It's Rosie, and Liam.
"What the fuck are you two doing in my apartment?" I shout, fully waking them both up.
Rosie jumps off from her position lying on Liam's chest and looks at me apologetically, and a look I'm familiar with from her, she's unsure of how I'm going to react.
"Fuck, Bryoni, I'm sorry, I just couldn't go home." She blurts out to me, desperately trying to get me on side.
Rosie is still in the same burgundy blouse she was wearing last night, but has no pants on, and Liam is just in his briefs. Thank fuck they both have some clothes on.
"Where the fuck is Lola?" I ask sternly, not in the mood for their shit, they better not have got any come on my couch.
"Harry took her back to my apartment and stayed there with her." She replied sheepishly.
"So, you let a 23-year-old man you've met once, spend the night alone with your eight-year-old daughter?" I ask her, getting pissed off now.
She stays silent.
Liam is still laying on the sofa with one hand resting underneath his head, elbow bent.
"You," I point at him, "Get the fuck up and take her out for some food, don't be a dickhead and if you got your come on my sofa, I expect a cheque left on the counter to pay for it to be serviced."
"I'll go look after Lola until you're back from getting food." I tell them.
I don't know why I offered to go to check on Lola, part of me didn't want Liam to just drop Rosie like she's nothing, she deserves only the best for her and Lola. Another part of me thinks that subconsciously I want to see Harry again.
I walk back into my bedroom and slam the door shut before they can say anything else to me. I change into some baggy, light denim jeans and pair it with one of my Dad's vintage sweatshirts, layered with a white high-necked crop top and throw on my Doc's.
I quickly go to splash my face with water and run my fingers through my hair. I brush my teeth and walk straight out of the apartment without even checking to see if Liam and Rosie are still there.
I don't know why I'm so angry about the possibility of them fucking on my sofa, it's not like I have a problem with either of them, they can both fuck who they want. I know Harry wouldn't do anything to Lola either, the way he looked at her when she needed his help confirmed that.
In all honesty, I'm just pissed, and I don't know why.
Before I know it, I'm back on my motorcycle and driving to Rosie's apartment.
I walk up to the door and knock as hard as I can.
No answer.
I knock again, this time louder and more urgently.
The door flies open and the person on the other side has clearly just woken up. He's rubbing his eyes with the other hand that isn't on the door and I use this as my opportunity to storm in and sit down on one of the chairs around the table.
"Erm... Can I help you?" He asks me, his voice low and raspy and drowning in the tired and morning tone that I've never heard before.
I look up and him and it's then that I notice that Harry is shirtless, only wearing a pair of black gym shorts and his hair tied back into a bun.
I can see tattoos littered randomly all over his body, and I just want to sit and ask him about every single one of them. Tattoos have always intrigued me. I like to try and understand why people choose the things they want permanently on their body. Does it have meaning? A significant moment in their life they want to remember? Or were they just drunk or bored.
"I'm here to wait with Lola while Liam takes Rosie for food." I defend.
"Okay" He sighs.
He moves to sit down on the sofa not far away from the table I'm sat at.
Rosie's apartment is very open plan, the living room, kitchen and doorway all being one huge room.
He doesn't say anything, he doesn't argue with me, he just sits there.
I notice the sofa has a blanket and a cushion across it, clearly where Harry was sleeping.
There's silence in the apartment, Lola still sleeping.
I get sick of how quiet it is and break it, saying to him,
"You don't have to stay you know."
"I'm staying." He throws straight back at me, not moving from his position on the sofa, his head thrown back exposing his neck and his eyes closed, he's resting on the back of the sofa. He looks tired.
I'm so restless and I don't know what's gotten into me. I don't recognise the anxiety and tension in my body, it's starting to really bother me.
I stand up and walk over to the kitchen area, Harry opening his eyes as he hears the chair I was sat on scrape against the wooden floor.
I filter some coffee and put it into the pot, watching it start to brew.
Harry groans as he gets up off the sofa, slowly walking over to the other side of the counter in the kitchen. He grabs two mugs off the shelf and places them down in front of me.
"If you ask me to get you the milk out, I'm going to pour the coffee on your head okay?" I say to him, letting some of my itching anger seep through the tone of my voice, but the sarcasm isn't lost on him.
He chuckles to himself. "I was just going to say the same thing to you."
I turn to grab the pot of coffee, smiling out of the corner of my mouth as I am faced in the opposite direction, hoping he doesn't see.
I pour us the coffee out into the mugs on the surface between us and reach for the sugar bowl and a spoon.
I lift three teaspoons of sugar into my coffee and stir it together.
Harry doesn't say a word, but I know he's judging me for my sweet tooth.
"Shut the fuck up okay? I don't want to hear it." I jokingly taunt him.
He just looks down at his coffee, taking a sip, but looking up at me raising his eyebrows as he takes the first sip.
I roll my eyes and scoff at him, sipping my coffee, and sighing as I feel the tingle of caffeine on my tongue.
"Considering I made you come last night, you sure are tense." He says teasingly, making my eyes snap up to his.
"I'm not in the mood to talk about it, okay?" I immediately defend back at him.
"Never asked you to." He says, completely disregarding and brushing off the playful atmosphere we were swimming in only seconds ago.
It's silent for a few seconds, and I feel the buzzing inside me, pushing me over the edge, I feel like I'm going to snap, and I don't know why.
I sharply slam the coffee mug onto the counter and start to pace around the kitchen area and eventually taking it into the free lounge space.
"Bry? The fuck are you doing?" He asks me, demanding me to answer him.
I brush off his question and ask him, "Do you have a cigarette?"
He nods and points towards his jacket resting over the back of the sofa, the same one I ripped off his body less than 12 hours ago.
I scramble over to the sofa and take out his cigarette pack and lighter from the blazer pocket, grabbing one out and placing it between my lips, I run over to the nearest window and open it, lighting the cigarette as quickly as I can manage.
Harry doesn't move from leaning on the counter, but just watches me carefully, no motive behind his eyes, just watching.
As I release the smoke from my lungs, letting the burn console some of the pressure I feel inside of me, I start to recognise this feeling.
"I need you to leave." I say to Harry quietly.
Harry sighs and laughs to himself, "No", he says, trying to be playful and sarcastic with me again.
"Harry, I need you to fucking leave okay?" I say, getting louder this time.
"Listen, I don't know what got you in this shitty mood, but pack it in, I don't want to hear it, finish your cigarette." It feels like he's telling me off, and I fucking hate that.
"Harry, I need you to fucking leave now! Or I'm going to lose my shit and I don't want Lola to hear. I need to be alone."
"Why do I have to fucking leave? I was here first, I said I'd watch Lola for Rosie, why do you need to stay?" He is getting angry now.
The pressure in my stomach starts to intensify, rising higher up in my chest, I feel it start to overtake my body. I can't fucking handle him being here. I have to get out.
I throw my cigarette out of the window after taking a final drag and I storm back to the door, turning around just as I'm about to open it.
"I don't know why I fucking came here, okay? I don't know why I feel like I'm going to explode. I woke up and I just needed to go somewhere and I-"
My breath starts to get caught in my throat and I feel an overwhelming prickling heat travel throughout my chest. I know this feeling all too well, and it's all happening so quickly I don't know if I will be able to stop it this time.
"Hey, hey calm down a second," he starts, taking hold of my elbows as my hands start to pull on my hair, sympathy starting to come through his voice. I don't want sympathy.
"Get the fuck off me!" I shout at him, my eyes screwing shut and tears threatening to spill from them.
"You know what? I'm trying to help you! The least you could do is not be a fucking bitch about it!" He snarls at me, completely different to the sympathetic tone he was just trying to give me.
"I didn't fucking ask for your help." I snap back, my patience wearing thinner.
"Well don't fucking turn up here in a pissy mood trying to start something with me, knowing that I'm here and have no intention of leaving!" He is really angry now.
"Fuck off Harry! Just fuck off!" I shout, but voice breaks and a sob escapes through my lips, and I try and cover it my slapping my hand over my mouth.
"If you hate me for last night, fine! And if you regret it? Whatever. But don't turn up here being a bitch about it" His voice changes to a tone a lot colder than his usual mysterious rasp and he is snapping the ends of his word at me in an attempt to sound spiteful.
If I was in my usual state of mind, I would apologise to him, tell him how I didn't regret anything, and that I don't hate him at all. That I would even say I considered him a friend. But I'm not. And I don't.
Instead, I do the one thing that I know will make him leave me alone.
I walk out, slamming the door as hard as I can on the way out.
~~~~~~
As soon as I open the door to my flat, I throw my keys down and go straight into my room.
I run my hands through my hair, making me even more tense.
I feel like I'm going to explode, like it's never going to stop.
I turn the lock on my door and walk into the bathroom, locking that door as well. I rip off my clothes and turn on the water, making sure it's cold. I step under the stream and goosebumps appear on my skin, tingling the hot and scratchy sensation that I can't seem to shake.
I let the water run through my thick hair and I stroke my hands down my face, only then do I notice my tears. I've probably been crying since I snapped at Harry.
I take some deep breaths and try to calm myself down, the cold-water seeping into my pores and sending shocks to the nerves beneath the surface of my skin.
The heat gradually subsides, and I feel the pressure in my chest begin to loosen. My gasps and sobs turn into exhales and I finally feel a calmness approaching my mind.
When I feel more myself again, I step out of the shower, reaching for my phone amongst my pile of clothes on the floor.
I think about texting Harry to apologise, but I decide leaving it, as is just easier for us right now.
I want to keep my distance for a few days.
As soon as I make that decision, it's eliminated from any possibilities as there's an unopened text to be read on my phone.
Dad: Harry wants you at the venue for practice tomorrow at 1pm, he told me to tell you. Hope you're okay Pumpkin.
Fucks sake.
~~~~~
A/N
This is your reminder that you don't have to have a reason to feel anxious, sometimes you wake up one morning and everything just nudges you that little bit further, and that's okay.
Anxiety is complicated, and very subjective, people can react in very different ways, and everyone has a completely different experience with it, but what matters is, although it is manageable, and completely 'normal', (whatever that word means)
YOU are not something that should be 'managed'.
Go at your own pace, take every day as it comes, any progress is good progress.
ON A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT NOTE,
WE HIT 1K READS YESTERDAY!!!
This is completely insane and surreal to me, and I have every single one of you to thank for it. Not to get sappy but I genuinely can't explain to you how much I love every single one of you.
See you soon my beauties <3