Yellow || hs au

|48|

—

My mind is a jumbled mess. I'm confused, I'm worried and I'm scared. I haven't heard from anyone since about four o'clock yesterday. After a multiple missed calls from Harry I turned my phone off. For what feels like the first time ever, I don't want to talk to him.

This whole thing is new to me, I'm not familiar with addiction and I'm sure as hell not familiar with withdrawal. I don't know how to be around someone going through it, especially when he's craving a hard drug such as meth. It's confusing to me. I know I can't be mad at Harry, which I'm not, but I also don't know how to help him.

It's not that I want to ignore him or not be around him, but this isn't my Harry. He's not his normal self. Which I understand. But I'm not comfortable around this side of him, I don't know when he's going to suddenly have an outburst or if he's going to start throwing shit around. I'm not someone who knows how to handle that, but I'm lucky that Zayn does.

I've thought about going to Harry's a couple times, but I simply can't bring myself to do it. I obviously miss him but I think it'd be smarter for him to just be with Zayn, someone he can relate to, rather than me.

I just hope that Zayn will be able to help him curve the craving so Harry can finally relax. He's been like this all week but yesterday was major. He had been fidgeting a few times or shifting around but he hadn't actually become hostile and angry. I did notice he was smoking much more than usual, like a lot more than usual. I guess I hadn't thought anything of it, I just thought he was tired.

I frown and lean my head back into the steaming water that flows from the shower head, my shoulders relaxing from their tense position as I let out a long sigh.

Is this happening because I've been busier than usual? Was it because we hadn't seen each other for a few days? Tiff had said I was a factor of helping him stay sober, so maybe it's my fault he's going through withdrawal. I just don't know. I want to be there for him but I don't know how. I feel like I would only make things worse if I was around him.

I just want him to be okay.

I ring my hair out and turn the water off before stepping out of the confined space, wrapping my cotton towel around my body, wandering out to my living room. I glance out at the gloomy sky through the windows, it's supposed to rain at some point today. The weather always seems to match my mood somehow.

I swallow hard and maneuver my way back to my bedroom where I change into sweatpants and one of Harry's black t-shirts. I'm let down when it doesn't smell like him, but nonetheless I keep it on.

Soon enough, I find myself staring at the door to my art studio. I've been trying to get myself to actually use it for its purpose, but there's a lot of reasons as to why I don't want to go in there. The reasons being every single piece of art in there. I feels like I'm going back in time when I look at my old pieces, they're not bad but they all are reminders about everything I wish I had.

Harsh knocking on my front door causes me to flinch, my hand grasping over my heart at the sudden noise echoing through my silent apartment.

"Clover, open the door, baby!" Harry's voice is urgent and familiar. I swallow thickly, clenching my hands at my sides as I stare at the door that is probably crying from his fists pounding on it so hard. "It's me, sweetheart. Please talk to me." He continues. I frown deeply at the sound of hurt laced in his raspy voice, my feet carrying me to the door before I can even process anything, pulling it open. "Hi, baby." He breathes.