***
The next morning I struggle with getting up. My body is exhausted and so is my brain, making me close my eyes again, not wanting to leave the comfort of the flannel sheets. I let out a content hum, as I pulled the sheets closer to my chin.
I feel an arm tighten around my waist, and I look over my shoulder to see Harry. "Good morning," he mumbles, squinting at me. I look at him, not sure how I ended up here, as we're in the guestroom, and not on the couch. "Good morning."
"What time is it?" I ask, rubbing my eyes. His arm leaves me, as he reaches for his phone on the nightstand, checking the time. "It's half past twelve." My eyes widen, as I sit up quickly. "Fuck, I had a lecture at twelve," I mutter, jumping out of bed. "I'm sorry, I didn't know," Harry apologizes, and I frown. "No, don't be, it's my fault," I tell him, not wanting him to feel guilty about it, when it's my responsibility to keep up with school.
"Are you sure you should go?" Harry asks after I come back out of the bathroom, changed into some regular clothes. I look down at the clock, seeing that it's soon one anyways. "I assume I don't, maybe I'll just quit," I mutter, knowing I don't have any motivation.
"We can do some schoolwork, I'll help you," Harry suggests when we're eating breakfast. I look up at him, taking in his outfit. His black shirt clings to his chest, and the pair of jeans on his legs. I raise an eyebrow at him, and he smiles. "Ok, maybe I can't help you that much, but I'll keep you company," he continues, and I shrug.
As I sit down on the kitchen table reading through a chapter, I feel Harry glance over at me every now and then. When I look up at him, he keeps eye contact. A smile is plastered on his face, as he asks me if I'm good. This goes on for about an hour, before I put my pen down and rub my tired eyes.
"Enough?" Harry asks, motioning to my school work. "I should-" I begin, but he cuts me off. "'You should' is not an argument, Lena. If your head doesn't follow then you need a break," Harry 's voice is strict, but still full of care. "But Harry, if I don't read I won't pass." I get that he hasn't finished school, but you would think he knew this.
"I don't want you to hurt, Lena." He's mumbling it, while looking down at his hands fiddling with a piece of paper. "I mean, yesterday was terrible, I had no idea what to do or how to help you," he continues, still keeping his look down.
"You were really helpful, Harry, I really appreciate you," I tell him, and his fiddling becomes more and more frustrated. "I didn't feel like I was, Lena. Is it ok if we talk about it a little, I want to know some stuff about it? Are you comfortable with that?" Harry asks, and I bite my lip, as I know I haven't really spoken about anyone about it. In addition to that, people usually just start talking about hard stuff, they don't ask if you're comfortable with it.
I have come to realize that Harry cares about how other people feel, before they think about his own health and mentality. I appreciate it so much, but I still want him to think of himself, and his problems.
"It's ok. What do you want to know?" I asked him, and for the first time in a while he glanced up at me. "What causes it?" he asks softly, seeming a little unsure about what's ok to ask and not. I take a deep breath, knowing he just wants to understand, and I want to help him with that as much as I can.
"I guess school, mostly. I never felt like this when it comes to work, as I like it, it's a freespace. School isn't that. I have always been working for good grades, like hard. Sometimes it gets too much. Stresses me out, you know. I think it would be better if I was doing something I'm really passionate about, but who knows," I tell him honestly, as he frowns.
"Is it every time you work with school?" he asks, and I shake my head. "No, just sometimes. If I have a lot to do," I explain, and he continues fiddling with the paper in his hands. "What do you mean by 'it would be better if you did something you're passionate about?'" he asks, sliding his chair a little closer to me.
"Don't get me wrong, I like law, but I started because I felt like I needed to get an education. Being an influencer and owning my own shop isn't exactly the most stable income. I would love to say this is all I need, but I need to feel safe in what I'm doing," I tell him, and he pouts a little.
He brings his hand away from the paper piece, and I see that he folded an origami bird, making me smile. He hands it to me, a small smile playing on his lips. "I didn't know that you could fold origami pieces," I say, taking the paper up to look at it closer. It's done basically with perfection, and I wonder how his big hands could manage that.
"Spent a lot of time doing it on tour. Can I ask you another question?" I nod at him, and he gives me a small smile. "How is it, when it happens?" he asks. I purse my lips, this is the first time I have ever thought about it like that, unless it's actually happening. I try to keep it out of my head as much as I can.
"It's hard to explain. I can't breath, but at the same time I can. I can't stop crying. Sometimes it's a calm version, where I just lay there numb, but other times I can toss and turn and feel like my body is on fire. It's different from time to time, but what you saw yesterday is the most normal type." Harry sits there nodding, and humming when I talk. I'm surprised at how comfortable I actually am, talking with Harry about my panic attacks. "What helps calm you?"
I bite my lip, considering the questions. Do I have an answer to that? I don't feel like I do. Whenever I have panic attacks, it feels like they last for years, and no matter what I do it stays. "I guess just trying to breathe. It doesn't always work, though. I try thinking of different stuff, happy stuff."
Harry nods at me, before getting up from his chair and walks over to the fridge, getting out a bottle of water. He holds one up to me, as if to ask if I want one but I shake my head. "Just know that you can always call me if it happens. I don't care what time it is, I'd be honored to have you wake me up," he says, and I laugh. "Sure."
"Would you like a piece of totally shitty advice?" Harry asks, before taking a sip from his water bottle. I simply nod, waiting for him to continue as I lean my elbow on the table and rest my head on my hand.
"If I were you, I'd drop out. Hear me out here, your shop is doing great, as well as your influencer career. You could also definitely do better than being an influence on Instagram. You're beautiful, smart and a fucking fashion star, Moa, use it for what it's worth. Now, combine all of this and you won't need stupid law school. Think of it like this, when you get your degree, will you use it for anything?"
I sit there a little baffled by his small speech, not expecting him to go that hard out. I sorta knew that he thought I should drop out, but I didn't think he had thought it through like this. "I hear you, H. I just feel like it would be like I wasted two of my years, and all the money," I explain, trying to get him to understand. He smirks a little, but before I get the chance to ask why he starts talking again.
"If you're never going to use your degree to do something in law, you'll end up wasting more time and money than you have now, by finishing. I usually don't tell people to drop out, but I think you should," Harry tells me. He jumps up so that he's sitting on the table, his feet dingeling down, making him look more childlike.
He's right about what he's saying. If I keep going I'll waste more of my life on this stupid education that I won't use if I don't absolutely have to. I don't think I'll ever need to use it either. "I just want you to think this through, Lena," he continues when I don't say anything. I end up nodding again, as I don't know what to tell him.
"Do you want to go play video games?" Harry asks, trying to lighten the mood. I look down at my books, before closing them. "I'd love that, what do you have?" I ask him, following him into another room. "This is my man cave. Or, my playroom to be more precise," Harry explains as I look around in the room that I haven't seen yet, as I realize there is a lot of Harry's house that is unseen to me.
I blush a little, getting fifty shades vibes when he says the word playroom. Not that this looks anything like that, the room is filled up with different types of games, from fussball to table tennis. On one of the walls there is a flatscreen, with a big couch facing it.
"I have a lot of different games, you can look on that shelf over there," Harry tells me, pointing at a bookshelf by the wall. I walk over, looking at different games. It's a lot of them, everything from PubG to mario cart to Fifa. What catches my attention though, is a game at the end of the shelf.
I pull it out, and look at it. It seems like he hasn't used it a lot, and I smirk. "What about this?" I ask Harry, holding the game up to him. "Just dance? Why on earth would you pick just dance?" he asks me, but takes the game and puts the cd into the right play console. "I want to see you dance." Harry laughs a little, before handing me the remote letting me choose a song.
Once I pick one we both fasten each of our controllers to our hands, and start dancing. None of us are good, but we have a good laugh. I haven't really thought about how nice of an 'get to know each other' activity just dance is, but when we're done here we have bonded in another way than usual, mostly because we have made such fools out of ourselves.
"That was tiring," Harry groans as he lets his tall frame fall back on the couch. "Yes, I don't know dancers do it," I answer, walking back over to the game shelf and putting the cover back on it. "Do you want to play fifa?" I ask him, looking at him over my shoulder.
"Yes. I'll kick your british arse," Harry mutters, and I laugh. "Well, right back at you," I say, before setting up the game. I handed him a controller to his PS4, and we set up our teams. "Why on earth do you want Manchester as your team? They suck," I say as I set up my Liverpool team as I please. "No, Liverpool sucks." I poke my tongue out at him, and as soon as we're ready we start playing a match.
"I told you I'd kick your ass, I'm a freaking fifa star," I tell Harry, who's sulking in the corner of the couch after losing three out of three matches. "I don't wanna do this anymore," he mutters, and I poke his thigh with my foot. "Bad loser," I say and he pouts. "Bad winner," he says mocking my voice and I laugh.
"Are you hungry?" Harry asks me, sitting up. "A little, yeah," I tell him, checking the time on my phone. "Wanna go out and get dinner?" I shrug, not really having a certain opinion on it. "Or we could order and eat in bed?" he suggested, and if I'm being honest this sounds a lot more appealing.
We decide on ordering some sushi, and we sit in bed eating while we're watching Friends, and I don't think I have had such a good day in forever.
"Sometimes I wish I could stay in bed for days and days, never leave," Harry tells me, snuggling into a blanket. I look at him, seeing his tired face. "I know I shouldn't complain. My job is a privilege, but it's a lot," he continues, looking up at me. Some hair falls into his face and he tries to blow it away, but fails so I push it away from him. "I understand why, Harry. Your job is stressful. You try to please so many people, when in reality you should only focus on doing what makes you happy." One of the corners of Harry's lips shots up in a half smile, and I raise an eyebrow at him.
"You say that, but still you keep on doing what you think others expect from you, instead of focusing on the things you love," he says, explaining his smile. I open my mouth to say something, but close it when I realize he's right.
"This isn't about me. We're talking about you now." Harry laughs a little, before looking up at the ceiling. "I don't know. I'm writing again now. I have been for a while. I wrote the first few songs while I was on tour, but I don't know how I feel about them. I don't even know if I ever want another album. I just want to have fun while I'm writing," Harry explains, letting out a sigh at the end.
"Then why don't you? Just write for the hell of it. Whatever you want to put out. Then you post it whenever you want to put it out. You're the one who gotta enjoy it," I tell him, and I mean it. "I don't know. I felt really happy about HS1, but looking back I see so much stuff where I pulled back, not doing exactly what I wanted because I was afraid of what people would think. This time I just want everything to be perfect for me, and not regret a single thing," Harry takes my hand, before pulling off his rings and putting it on my thumb.
I let out a small laugh, looking at the satisfied look on his face. "Then you do that. You've gotten so far, and if you do what you want it will be sensational, I promise you," I say, and he twirls the ring around on my finger. "I hope so," he mutters, before letting go of my hand and cuddling into my side. I turn my attention back to the tv screen, as I tangle my hand into his hair, brushing it lightly. He hums satisfied, before he relaxes, drifting off to sleep.
***
AN// So, here is chapter eight! It's starting to run a little more smoothly when I write, which is nice. I think this time span is a nice one between the chapters, they work for me at least! Bye, beans!