OLIVIA'S POV
APRIL
I close my eyes and take a deep breath as I fumble around for my house keys in my handbag.
If it was acceptable, I would lie down right here on Harry's door mat and have a nap.
I am beyond exhausted from having had a terrible week at work, our computer system went down and we had to manually process every order that came through, making Frankie stressed and the rest of the team scrambling to keep up with the influx of work.
Those stressful hours in the office however, were a holiday compared to the nightmare I was living in at home. Once Harry had started drinking, he had barely stopped, taking a break only in order to get stoned first or when he was passed out.
His mum, Anne, was calling me daily as I left the house to go to work and I would console her until I reached my desk, handle everything at work and then go home to whatever Harry was going to throw at me to deal with that night.
I was running completely on empty, simply just trying to get through the days making sure Harry didn't hurt himself or go out in public and cause more damage than necessary.
I had stopped quickly on the way home from work to buy him a new photo frame after he had smashed the one on his desk last month, when I saw another magazine cover with him on it.
It was another unflattering photo of Harry and a story about his life spiralling out of control with drugs and booze and I wondered whether he was leaving the house when I was at work in order for people to know to write about this stuff.
I pull my keys out of my bag and hold my breath in anticipation for what I might find behind the door tonight.
"Harry?" I call as I look around the empty living room, pieces of scrunched up paper litter the floor as per usual and the bottle of bourbon he has been drinking today sits on the table next to a clean glass he obviously planned on using and decided against.
I sigh, wondering where he keeps getting the alcohol considering I keep searching the house for it and never find any. I walk down the hall where I can hear a faint sound coming from his room.
I open the door cautiously, preparing myself for whatever scene I might uncover, but he is no where to be seen.
I walk past the broken frame Mrs. Stewart had picked up from the floor and lay down on his desk, the glass shattered in the broken timber rectangle, before I hear commotion coming from the master bathroom connected to Harry's room.
I hear the clanging stop and a faint buzzing noise start as I swing the door open.
"Harry NO!" I scream, startling him.
He is standing at the mirror in a pair of black skinny jeans, slightly swaying to hold onto his balance from too much alcohol and his shirt is discarded or maybe he just hadn't put one on today. In one hand he holds the front of his hair up towards the ceiling and in the other he has an electric shaver pointed directly at his head.
I pull the plug from the wall just in time before he recovers from my outburst.
"I want to shave it off! I fucking hate it." He screams at me, his glassy eyes looking straight through me and he struggles to swallow.
"Ok, ok," I say out of breath, "if you want to that's fine, Harry, but just let me do it so you don't hurt yourself." I bargain.
"No! I want to do it," he slurs and confirms he isn't in the right frame of mind to be making this decision.
"Ok, you can do it. But you have to sleep on it first."
"No Liv, I want to-"
"I got you something," I interrupt, holding up the plastic bag in my hand in an attempt to distract him.
"What is it?" He stumbles back and has to lean on the counter to stand upright.
"Come out here and I'll show you."
He drops the shaver and I grab it immediately, taking it with me as I tell him to sit on the bed. I take the frame out of the bag and show it to him, keeping it just out of his grasp like I would do with a toddler.
"I got you a new frame for the photo on your desk." I explain as he just sits and stares at it.
"I have one."
"You threw it Harry, it's broken." I say simply and he shakes his head, resembling that toddler I was imagining as I watch him slowly get to his feet and walk over to his desk.
"I have one right here!" He yells, grabbing the broken frame and dropping it with a hiss.
Blood drips from his thumb onto the desk from where he has cut himself on the broken glass and he just stares at it, too intoxicated to react.
"Harry! Shit! Wait there." I demand as I run back into the bathroom and grab a dry washcloth.
He's still standing frozen as I pull his hand towards me and hold his thumb firmly in the white towelling in an attempt to stop the bleeding.
He moves his drunk eyes to look into mine. "Ouch," He says with no emotion and I try to suppress my smile. Even when he is being completely destructive and out of control he is adorable.
I pull him towards the bed and force him to lie down.
"I'm going to heat up some dinner for us, ok? You stay here and hold this cloth and try not to hurt yourself," I smirk at him as he looks at me through hooded eyes.
"Yes, boss."
I grab the shaver and walk quickly into my room, shoving it into a box in my closet where I know he wont be able to find it and accidentally cut his head open.
I kick off my shoes and change into some sweats before I sit down on my bed and try to take some deep breaths to calm myself.
I lie down for a moment, trying not to let the exhaustion take over and I hear a rustle of paper beneath me.
*Check the freezer for another week of meals. If I can help him in some other way, please let me know. Hope you are ok, dear. - Love, Mrs. Stewart*
The small note left on my pillow brings tears of self pity to my eyes and I wish I could hug her for her kindness. She had been coming her usual twice a week while I am at work and god knows what she has witnessed from Harry over the last few months.
I make my way into the kitchen and heat up some of the food for Harry and I. When I go in to his room to tell him it's ready he is fast asleep, soft little breaths escaping his pillow soft lips and he looks more at peace than I have seen him in a long time.
I creep out of the room and go to watch some TV and eat dinner by myself, deciding he needs rest almost as much as he needs food.
After a few hours, I clean the living room, pour out the rest of the bottle of alcohol as I do every night and I make a sandwich to take into Harry's room. I place it on the bedside table with a glass of water in the hope he eats and drinks it when he wakes up.
"Liv?" I hear as I'm walking out the door.
"Yeah, Harry."
"Stay here with me. Please." He begs and his voice is so small my heart breaks even more than it already has.
I get into the bed and face him, our bodies turned into each other as I watch his sad face look into mine. The alcohol is starting to leave his system and I can see glimpses of my best friend returning for the first time in weeks.
My mind wanders to that imaginary island I would take him to, away from the industry, away from the voices, away from the pressure.
"Are you thinking about leaving?" His tone matches the sadness in his eyes.
"Only if you're coming with me." I tell him honestly.
I watch the swallows inked onto his chest rise as he inhales deeply.
"What three things would you take to a deserted island?" I ask him, knowing how much he loves this endless game of ours.
"Ummm, my guitar, a never ending box of condoms and you." He smiles weakly.
I laugh lightly through my nose as he asks, "What would you take?"
"Mmm, maybe I watch too much reality TV but I think I would bring practical stuff. Like a knife for food and a flint to make fire... And you."
I hear him laugh softly for the first time in months and it makes my heart swell.
"So we're going to eat, play music and make love by a fire?" He smiles, "When do we leave?"
I smile back at him, wishing he knew how badly I want that to be a reality.
"What's with the unlimited condoms?" I tease, trying to hold on to the fleeting lightheartedness I've missed so much. "You love kids!"
I'm rewarded by an open mouth smile as a cackle escapes his throat.
"I do, but I want like, two or three not sixteen! If it's just the two of us on a deserted island, with nothing to do but have sex, then without the condoms we might have a whole tribe."
He laughs and I join him before we drift slowly off to sleep and I dream about crackling fires and Harry's carefree, dimpled, smile.