If you stay, I promise to keep it alight.
*****
I'm lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling as I go through the last hour in my head.
"Fuck!" I gasp when I remember the moment I lost my temper, and I cover my face with both hands.
How did I let that happen to me? That is not who I am, or who I want to be. But the thought of her leaving me for something that I can't control hurt and frustrated me to the point where I couldn't even think straight.
"Hey, are you asleep?" Louis's head is poking through the half open door that connects our rooms. "Mind if I come in?"
I prop myself on my elbows and I look at him, nodding my head reluctantly. I don't think I'm in the mood for a late night chat, but I know that I won't be sleeping either. And pretty much anything sounds better than to stay awake and wallow on self-pity.
The door opens up wider and Louis comes in, followed by the rest of the lads. I frown and sit up straight, while the three of them invade my space and find different places to settle in.
"So, what's going to be?" Niall is holding a football PlayStation game in one hand and a pack of beer in the other.
"Both, I guess." I smile lazily and he nods.
"So... Rough day, uh?" Liam is the first one to find the courage to break the ice.
It has been almost thirty minutes since we've started drinking and playing, and all the while we have been in silence, aside from the usual screaming that comes with the virtual competition.
"You can say that, yes." I respond, dropping the controller on the mattress when I get slammed at yet another match, and rolling my eyes at a very annoying Niall. "I'm out."
He punches me on the side while calling me a sore loser, and after returning him the favor, I get up and serve myself another beer. Louis, who was complaining rather loudly about wanting to play, doesn't waste any time and takes my place.
"I heard about this morning." Liam follows me, talking in a discrete volume. "Want to talk about it?"
I shrug nonchalantly as I take a sip, considering his offer. The only reason why I let them hang around was to take my mind off of things, but since it is clearly not working, I might as well just vent.
"That's not even the tip of the iceberg, mate. She's trying to dump me." I say once the beer has gone down my throat, feeling how it actually tries to come right back up at the thought of her leaving me.
He looks at me with a confused and surprised expression on his face.
"She's trying to dump you?" He repeats, clearly puzzled by my choice of words.
"Yes." I shrug again. "I won't let her, though."
Something happens inside of me when I say that; like a sense of some hope being restored. The feeling that all I have to do is show her how good we are and how great we can truly be if we set our minds and hearts on it.
We have what it takes; she has to at least acknowledge that much.
"That's really confident of you. I admire that." He says, and I don't fail to notice a somewhat condescending tone.
"What?" I growl, and he seems rattled by my reaction.
Okay. Maybe that patronizing thing was a product of my imagination. Probably. Most likely.
"Nothing... I really do admire your tenacity, man." He rushes to say, showing me his palms in a sign of reverence. "But sometimes, the things we want, no matter how badly we want them, just can't happen. Believe me, I should know. And you need to be prepared for that or else, it will kill you."
He surely does know. I have seen him struggle and eventually coming out defeated. But it took him months, if not years, to finally lay down his arms.
He tried, he fought, and he made sure to give everything that he could before making the decision that enough was enough. And I think that is the sole reason why, even though he is still miserable about it, he is not entirely broken down. He has no regrets, no what ifs hanging over his head.
And I definitely don't want that for myself. Or for her.
"Maybe so. But if I must go down, I shall go down swinging." I say, pumping a fist to the air and taking another swig, so the conversation can stir into a less somber tone.
"Respect, brother. Nothing but respect." He chuckles lively, offering his hand for me to shake.
And I take it with a strong grip. As strong as my determination of not letting the best thing that has ever happened to me slip away from my fingers.
Not without an epic fight.
*****
I wake up the next morning with a pounding head and a foot -that is obviously not mine - dangerously close to my face.
I quickly snake my way off of the bed, and as I take in the three boys who are weirdly twisted and sleeping like rocks, flashes of our late night meeting come rushing back to me.
And so does everything that happened before that.
I don't want to wake anyone up, so I tip toe my way into the bathroom, closing the door behind me before facing myself in the mirror.
I positively look like shit, of course. That is what happens when, even after helping yourself with a good amount of alcohol, sleep refuses to come to you or to stay long enough to get you properly rested.
The distraction the lads provided helped me eventually, and I managed to get her out my head for as long as they kept their eyes and mouths open; but as soon as they all fell asleep, I was right back to where I started: wide awake and thinking about her.
I don't just look like shit. I stink, too.
I jump into the shower to get myself rid of the weariness blurring my thoughts and the smell of alcohol exuding from my pores.
I welcome the hot water as it slowly does the trick, and as soon as I am ready to face the music, I quietly get dressed and walk out of the room.
The first person I see when I get to the lobby is Olivia. She is typing rapidly on her computer whilst talking to a woman who seems rather in a hurry.
Lea is not there so I walk slowly towards the reception desk, swiping the big room with my eyes and finding nothing but random, unfamiliar people in it.
"I'm so sorry for the mix-up. There you go." Olivia hands the woman a card key and she tugs it abruptly from her fingers without so much as a thank you.
I lean on the wooden desk, frowning at the woman's unnecessary rudeness as she turns around to walk away. Olivia, who hadn't seen me there until now, roll her eyes at me and sticks her tongue out in disgust.
"That wasn't nice." I say and she flips her hair back in a quite bitchy manner.
"Gotta love rich people and their self-entitlement, right?" She says, making me chuckle and then joining me with a stifled laugh. "Anyway... Have you heard more news from Lea? How is she?" She then adds, once the laughter has dimmed down.
I look at her in silence, narrowing my eyes at her. For a second, I think that maybe Lea told her about our falling out last night, but as her face begins to contort into an expression that says she just said something she wasn't supposed to, I panic a little.
"What sort of news?" I enquire, trying not to sound so bloody scared but failing epically. "What are you talking about?"
"Uhm... Nothing..." She stutters, focusing back on her computer and clearly pretending to type something down. "I was just asking, that's all."
"Olivia, I barely know you and I can tell that you're lying, so that goes to show how much you suck at it." I push her as gently as my urgency lets me. "Spare yourself another try, and talk."
She lowers her shoulders as she lets out a heavy breath, and her eyes go back to mine. My patience is running dangerously low as my anxiety grows at the same rate, so I raise my eyebrows at her, silently urging her to speak.
"Alright! But before you freak out... even further," She surrenders, and I give her another pressing look. "She did say she was going to be here in an hour or two. So that means it's nothing serious."
It goes without saying that those words are doing little to nothing about the whole me not freaking out about it.
"Olivia, what's going on!?" I snap at her, and she jumps a little.
"She... had an accident at school this morning and she's at the emergency room."
My heart sinks to my stomach and my legs begin to feel too weak to bare my own weight. If there was any trace of my mild hangover left, it all seems to wear off as soon as she says that.
"What?" I ask with full on panic imprinted on my voice. "What do you mean she had an accident? What happened?"
My trembling hands reach for the back of my jeans searching for my phone, but I soon remember that I left it back in my room.
"Calm down, Harry. I'm sure she's just fine and she didn't tell you so you won't worry over nothing." She tries to put me at ease.
But of course it doesn't work. Because that's not the reason why she didn't tell me. If Olivia knew what happened last night; the things she said to me or the way I conducted myself, she would then know that the only reason why Lea hasn't called me is because she doesn't want me there.
Not that I really care for what she wants or what she thinks she wants right now. I want to be there; and I will.
"Give me your phone, Olivia. I have to call her. Now."
She obliges reluctantly and she gives me her phone. I search for the text message she says Lea sent her since it will be faster than scrolling down her contacts. It is the last message she received so I find it instantly.
"She sent this message two and a half hours ago!" I shout at her and she furrows her brows at me.
"What? That's not..." She glances down at her wrist and her frown deepens. "Shit! I must have lost track of time."
"There you are!"
I turn around to where the voice came from to find a very sleepy Liam walking over to us. His eyes are squinted from the bright light flooding the place, and his face is as dead beat as mine was when I woke up.
"I can't talk right now, mate. I have to..." I trail off when I see that he is holding my phone in one hand.
"It's been ringing nonstop so I picked it up." He explains as he hands me the device and I snatch it from him. "It's Lea's friend..."
"Jasper!?" I practically yell at the speaker without even bothering to say hello. "Where are you? How is she?"
"Harry, I need your help..."