summit ✽ h.s

t h i r t y - s i x

YAYYY FINALLY

--

I continue to bang on Harry's door, getting even more anxious with each knock. I feel like a terrible girlfriend right now, and I really just need him to open the fucking door.

After what seems like hours, he finally opens the door, and I breathe out a sigh of relief. His hair's all messy and his eyes are red, and he doesn't smile when he sees me. Instead he furrows his brows slightly, and chews on the inside of his mouth.

"Are you okay?" I ask, shivering slightly from the cold air. I can't tell if my words are slurring or not, and I pray that they aren't.

"Yeah, I'm fine. What're you doin' here? It's one in the morning." He asks, still furrowing his brows. His hand draws up to his mouth, and he plays with the bottom of his lip as he speaks. I love love love that habit of his.

"I just got your voicemail." I say quietly.

He nods slowly, and I stare at his face trying to figure out if his eyes are red from sleeping, or from just waking up. "Where were you?"

"I-uh-" I pause for a second and shut my eyes tightly because of the massive headache that just hit me. "I was at Claudia's birthday thing." I mumble, trying not to focus on the immense pain going through my head.

"I thought that was just a dinner. You were gonna come here after." He says quietly, and I can see he's a little upset. I don't blame him, he was probably worried that I wasn't answering him.

"I know, I know." I slur, looking down. Fuck. "It- just, uh we ended up going to her place for a while. I- uh, lost track of time."

"Are you drunk?" He asks raising a brow. I look up at him and bite down on the inside of my lip not saying anything. He nods, knowing the answer. We're quiet for a second, and I can tell he's a little pissed. I look down at the goosebumps forming on my arm, and Harry does too. "Come on, it's cold out." He says with a slight smile, opening the door wider. I nod and walk inside, and he shuts the door behind him.

"What happened?" I ask, following behind him as he walks to the living room. He sits down on the couch, and I do the same. "You said you wanted to talk."

"Yeah, I wanted to talk to you. Not drunk you." He mumbles, looking down at his knees.

"Harry, I'm sorry." I say, looking straight at him. He doesn't look back at me, which makes me feel even worse. "I should've been checking my phone."

"You should've at least texted me if you weren't gonna come by." He says, and ruffles his hair with his hand. I did try to text him, but it didn't send. I won't tell him that, because he probably wouldn't believe me.

"I know. I'm sorry." I say, scooching closer to him. "Can you please tell me what happened?" I ask again, grabbing his hand. I hold his one hand with both of mine, moving my thumb back and forth trying to be a little soothing.

"I uh, well my mum called." He begins, taking in a deep breath. "You know Nick? I think I've talked about him before."

"Yeah, he's your friend from London, right?" I ask, and he nods.

"My mum told me that h-he died." He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I used to be so close to with him, and he was always there for me, you know? God I can't even remember the last time I talked to him."

"Harry," I say quietly, my eyes softening. I feel terrible for him, and I can tell he's taking this a little hard.

"I didn't even know the guy had cancer." He says, his voice cracking slightly. "I didn't fucking know."