Sadly, Harry and I never do get to finish our conversation at his mom's house. Once Harry goes back outside with his friends, he seems to be rather determined to get shitfaced. Now, normally this would not piss me off, but because we have things to discuss, I lowkey kind of am. It's like he's getting drunk to avoid talking to me, which I get, because he's probably mad, but still, it's frustrating that now we won't be able to work things out tonight. If I've learned anything through last weekend, it's never try to work out important issues while drunk, so discussing my lying is not at all an option right now.

Harry and his friends start shotgunning beers like in "the glory days," and because they're boys, they decide to make it a competition. Then they get into the hard shit. Harry gets a hold of some whiskey and then it goes down fucking hill from there. Therefore, by the time everyone begins to leave, Harry is no longer fit to drive, so he lets me drive his truck back to his apartment. Harry is really annoying in the car. He won't stop poking me, and also won't stop saying, "you lied to me.. why did you lie?" He sounds so sad and truly hurt when he says it, but because he's drunk, I know I shouldn't try to answer him right now. So, I just tell him that we'll talking about it tomorrow and he nods like a child, then goes back to poking me and asking me that same question from before.

When we get to his apartment, I unfortunately have to help him up the stairs and to my horror, the bathroom. I'm just glad we make it in time. The fool had about eight beers before the vast amounts of liquor, so needless to say, he's going to be puking his brains out for a while. His hair is just long enough to get up in a ponytail, so I take mine out and put in his hair so he doesn't get vomit all up in his curly locks. There seems to be a break in his sickness, so I quickly run to the kitchen and grab the huge water jug from the fridge as well as a cup and some ibuprofen for him.

Harry is groaning with his face up against the toilet seat when I return to the bathroom, and suddenly, I'm not really all that mad at him anymore. He's clearly miserable right now, and his hangover is going to be brutal, so I think it's safe to say that karma has won this round for me. But more than that, I just feel bad for him because I can't help but think that he got to this point because of me. That's just– it's not a great feeling.

Wordlessly, I take a clean washcloth from his cabinet and wet it just so it's damp. Kneeling down in front of him, I drape the cloth over my leg and reach for Harry's shirt which is conveniently a flannel button down today. Unfortunately though, he has vomit all over it, so I do my best in prying it off of him. Once the shirt is off, I take my washcloth and begin to gently wipe away the mess around his mouth and chin, though it proves to be useless as he just vomits into the toilet again.

I sit there with him for about an hour, periodically giving him water and washing his face until he convinces me that he's good enough to lay down. He plops down on the bed, and as he lays there nearly unconscious, I take off his shoes and his jeans with some difficulty. Eventually, I manage to get him under the covers, where he begins to mumble things incoherently to me.

"Maybe you do love me," Harry says quietly, and now I feel even more guilty than before. I knew he was upset, but for him to question whether or not I love him, that's just too much. Why the hell did I have to be so stupid? It's not fair that he feels this way when he's been nothing but good to me. It really does suck, but for right now, I know there's no use in dwelling on it. Shaking these thoughts from my mind, I wait until Harry passes out and then head back to my dorm.

I feel so shitty about all of this; I just hope that Harry and I can talk tomorrow, because after tomorrow, it's finals week, and we won't have time to work things out. And heaven knows that if we go on Christmas break without having settled it, then shit's going to hit the fan. Because apparently, Harry and his parents are going to England for the break as a last-minute surprise to his grandparents, so if we don't have the conversation we need to, then talking it out over Christmas won't be convenient at all. I know I'm probably being over dramatic, but I have a special talent for creating worst case scenarios and letting myself freak out about them, so just bear with me for a second until I chill out.

Anyways, when the next morning arrives, I am quick to take up my phone and text Harry. Hopefully, he'll respond to me like he normally does and we'll pick a time to discuss everything that went down last night. It is kind of early in the morning, so I don't expect him to be awake yet. I guess I should take advantage of the time I have this morning to study for my finals this week. Because I'm the worst, and procrastination is undoubtedly one of my greatest flaws, I have a good bit of notes and reading to catch up on, so it's going to be a long day.

As I'm sitting there studying in my dorm, I find that it is entirely impossible to focus. The air vent keeps making this really annoying sound that I can't seem to ignore, and no matter how hard I try not to, I can't stop checking my phone to see if Harry has responded yet. It's a useless habit really, because if he did text me, I have my sound on and I would know. But alas, my anxiety is making me restless, so I guess I'm just going to have to keep checking my phone. And to make matters worse, every time I do look at my phone, I end up getting sucked into those stupid The Voice blind-audition videos. That alone probably wastes about an hour and a half of my time, so even though I'd much rather sit in bed and pretend to study, I unfortunately force myself to go to the library. At least if I'm there, I'll be more motivated to work on my math review.

The change in location seems to help to some degree, but ultimately, my surroundings have nothing to do with my mental incapacity to focus on my school work. It's nearly one in the afternoon, and Harry has yet to answer my text. He has his read receipts turned on for me, and apparently, he hasn't even deigned to open it yet. It's the same way on snapchat. Harry and I have ninety-nine day streak, and that ominous little hourglass is next to his name, which means that our streak is about to fucking die. I know it's silly, but if he purposefully kills our streak, I'm going to go back to fabricating those worst-case scenarios, because that's just mean.

The crazy thoughts swirling around in my cluttered brain get so bad that I convince myself to text Harry again. Now, I'm normally not ashamed of the double text, but right now, I'm not feeling too great about it. I'm almost positive that Harry is awake right now, because even with his worst hangover, he rarely sleeps past ten and we're pushing two right now. So either he's dead or he's actively ignoring me, and I get the feeling that it's the latter of the two. And if that's the case, then he's kind of being petty. Like, yeah, I know I lied and hid my whole delusional jealousy from him, but for real, it's not the worst thing I could have done. Don't get me wrong, I regret it a lot and wish I had handled things differently, but I really don't think Harry ignoring me is a warranted reaction.

Whatever.. if we don't talk about it, then it's on him, not me. I double texted him asking when he could talk today, so he can't say I didn't try this time. All I can do is study and wait for him to respond to me, and if he doesn't by six, I'm leaving this here library and driving to his apartment. If that makes me crazy, then I guess I'm insane. I don't really care how I look at this point; I just want to fix things with Harry like an adult would. I feel like that's not a bad thing to want.

The hours drag by slowly, and I can feel my brain capacity deteriorating with every math problem and every scholarly essay talking about American colonization. My eyes are burning from the stupid bright lights in this annoyingly silent library, but until six, I cannot free myself from this academic prison. Honestly, the only thing getting me through it at this point is the Dairy Queen I have promised myself. I don't normally eat there, but right now, I need an oreo blizzard to take the edge off. It's pretty much just ice cream and oreos, so you know it's gotta be good.

After rewriting my ninth page of notes, I leave the library extremely discouraged. Yeah, I'm probably going to ace my math final, but I am for sure going to fail my computer science class. It's fine. But more than that, Harry still hasn't fucking responded to me. I'm actually kind of pissed about it, because he can't just expect me to be so open with him all the time when he gets all guarded if something upsets him.

It's giving me flashbacks to how he was those first few weeks of school where he literally didn't talk to me for two weeks because he was butthurt about me asking why he kissed me at my parents' house. Just like back then, Harry is refusing to let me explain, which is inevitably going to cause more problems. I guess things worked out then, though, so maybe this will just be something similar. And as much as his silence frustrates me, maybe Harry just needs his space like last time. Maybe I shouldn't go to his apartment then. Maybe I should just wait him out.

Shaking these thoughts from my head, I make my way to my car and drive myself to the almighty Dairy Queen where I acquire my crack-filled oreo blizzard along with some fries and chicken nuggets. Really healthy, I know, but this is the South, so I'm allowed to do it. The intoxicating smell of my fried deliciousness becomes too much for me, so I decide that I'll just wait and see Harry tomorrow. The food is calling me, and unless Harry wants me to come to his apartment, I probably shouldn't just show up. Thus, I head back to my dorm to eat my pathetic meal in solitude.

Normally, Harry and I would eat dinner together on Sundays, so this does kind of bum me out a lot. Even though it's literally only been a day, I miss being able to just hang out with him at his apartment. Even if we're only studying, being with him there is much more pleasant than that stupid library or my stupid dorm.

Whatever, there's nothing I can do but wait... and study some more.

After I finish my blizzard, I get back to working on my school work, but I ultimately give up and decide to watch Netflix instead. I don't really want to watch anything related to love or relationships or whatever, so I turn on good ol' American Horror Story: Roanoke to get my mind off things. Let me tell you, that sure as hell works, but by the end of the third episode, I'm really anxious that some crazy lady is going to come into my room with a cleaver and kill me. If you've seen it, you know what I'm talking about; if you don't, I'm sorry. Don't watch it to understand; it's terrifying and not worth the stress.

Thus, consumed with stress over Harry and the irrational fear of AHS characters, I put an end to my day and go to bed without hearing from Harry. The next morning, I wake up and see Harry's name on my screen, the presence of which makes my heart nearly jump out of my chest. When I open it, I don't know whether to be pleased or disappointed. I think I'm leaning towards disappointed.

From Harry: Hey, sorry I didn't get back to you yesterday. I had rehearsals and then I had to study. Good luck on your test today.

Maybe I'm reading into it, but that just seems so passive aggressive to me, and to make matters worse, he didn't even address the part about the discussion we really need to have. This is so frustrating honestly, but I really don't have time to respond to that bullshit reply. I have an exam in less than an hour, and I need to not be distracted by Harry right now. It doesn't help that the test I'm having to take is my History final... because in case you forgot, guess who's in that class? Harry is the fucking TA, so he's literally going to be there distracting me the whole time. I guess that's why there's rules against TA's having relationships with students.

Rolling my eyes and putting my phone on "do no disturb," I get ready for the day and shove all my shit in my backpack before heading out the door towards the history building. When I get there, I see him at the front of the room passing out test booklets, and though I know it's petty of me, I purposefully get mine from the other TA and take a seat without speaking to him. I think if I were to hear his voice right now, I would literally lose my mind.

Once the clock hits eight 'o' clock, we are allowed to begin our exams. My heart is pounding in my ears, and I'm having a hard time concentrating on what I'm supposed to be writing. It's really fucking inconvenient that I watched that show last night, because I'm having to write an essay about failed American colonies, and I'm mixing up my notes with the dumb plot alterations from the show that make Roanoke seem more cruel and mysterious than it already is. That's just perfect.

Because my brain is so frazzled, I end up taking nearly the whole time to take the test. To my horror, the other TA is somehow mysteriously missing, so I have no choice but to approach Harry to give him my exam. He takes it from me and glances about him as if to ensure that no one is listening.

"Check your phone when you leave," Harry says quietly, and I somehow become even more nervous than before. This is fucking terrifying. But despite my cowardice, I nod to him and silently leave the room with my head down so as to not make eye contact with anyone. Setting my backpack down on the bench outside the classroom, I fumble with the zipper to open it and search for my phone. As I am doing this, the absolute last person I ever thought about seeing stands behind me and says my name.

Annoyed, I turn around to see none other that Sir John Sucks-a-lot standing there in front of me. I haven't seen him in over a week, but still, his face has not healed entirely. He still has just a bit of a black eye, and I'm fucking happy to see it. Now that I know the extent of his deception, I really wish I could remember hitting him, because he fucking deserves that and more. I fucking hate this kid, and if he says one little thing to set me off right now, I don't know if I'll be able to keep myself from hitting him again. If that happens, I'll make sure to enjoy it this time.

"What do you want?" I ask coldly, momentarily forgetting about the fact that I am supposed to be checking my phone.

John seems to be nervous as he shifts his weight awkwardly to the balls of his feet. His eyes dart away from mine and he wrings his hands together like the most guilty human you've ever seen. At last, he finds his words, and to be honest, they surprise me.

"I- I'm sorry to bother you," he says quietly. "I just wanted to apologize... for what I did to you. It was wrong."

"You don't say?" I can't stop the words from coming out, but honestly, I don't care. John deserves to experience my anger while he's sober, that way he'll remember my hatred of him more clearly. John is taken aback by my response, and that familiar sneer once again dominates his face as he once again becomes the asshole I know him to be.

"Shit, nevermind. I'm trying to be nice, but if you're just going to be a bitch, then forget it."

Um, excuse me? After all he's done, I have the right to be upset with him, and he does not have the right to call me a bitch.

"Whatever," I huff, turning back to the bench and fishing my phone out of my bag. Hopefully, Harry's text won't make me shit my pants.

Update: it does.

He said he's going to meet me after this test, which means I have approximately two minutes before- oh, nope. There he is.

Harry strides out of the classroom with a fat folder of tests in his hand, and his face is somewhat pleasant at first, only, when he sees John, he is no longer so friendly.

"Hey, why are you talking to her, you fucker?" Harry sneers at him, and I can't help but compare it to John's from earlier. Harry's look of disgust is much more terrifying if I'm being honest.

John's face pales, but because he's a stupid boy, he doesn't look as if he plans on backing down. No, instead, he recovers his composure and decides to start shit. "I was apologizing, but the bitch doesn't want it, so I'm just going to go."

He should not have said that. I mean, I don't really care, but Harry sure as hell does.

Harry's whole body tenses, and I can see just how white his knuckles are becoming as he grips his stack of papers. This is not going to go well if I let it unfold, so I need to stop it before it happens.

"Okay, John, that sounds great." I smile sweetly at him and he stares back at me in confusion. "Yep," I nod at him condescendingly. "Just fuck off, please. Thank you."

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I take Harry's free hand in mine and lead him away from John. I really just don't need his shit right now. He's probably just bitter that Alexa finally left him, and I really don't want to get all up in that, so walking away is definitely the best move here.

"I wanted to hit him so fucking bad," Harry says tensely as we walk down the hallway.

I squeeze his hand and laugh, "So did I, but given that we're on school property and it wouldn't count as self defense, I thought it best if we avoided that scenario."

"You're probably right, but still, that would have been fun." Harry sighs and then pulls his hand from mine, which makes me suddenly feel like maybe this conversation won't go so well. Suddenly, Harry stops in the hallway and turns to me with a sad look in his eyes. "First, I just wanted to say thank you... for staying with me the other night. I know I was... messy, to say the least. I'm sorry I got that drunk; it wasn't fair to you."

"It's okay," I force a smile, thinking back to the sad words Harry spoke to me that night.

Harry shook his head, "No, it's not okay. That was terrible of me, and I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?" I nod slowly, scarcely allowing myself to enjoy where this is going. Harry continues, "Look, I do want to talk to you about... the thing, but I think I need a few days to think. I realized that yesterday. I'm sorry for keeping you in the dark, but I really just need to cool down before we go there. It'll be better that way, I promise."

I'm really too shocked to anything at all, but I nonetheless hear myself say, "Okay," to which Harry responds with a sympathetic smile and a brief goodbye. Thus, I am left standing alone in the hallway like an idiot.

What the fuck?

•••

Lol sorry that took so long.. we have homecoming this week and I've had to do some stuff that involved me sitting in a basement rolling tissue paper for thirty hours (I have no thumb prints left bc the paper has literally rubbed them off)... so that's also why this chapter has AHS in it bc I just finished Roanoke during said thirty hours, and I am OBSESSED it was so good fr 10/10

Anyways, thanks for reading y'all! Ily❤️
-kate❤️