harry styles imagines

we've run out of things we can say - part 2

sitting at the vanity in your dressing room, the ex bedroom that you once shared with harry, you finished your makeup with a light mist of setting spray. saturday night, a night out with the girls. your first night out since the breakup. it had been a while. a lot had changed. but you still longed for harry, you missed his warmth, his morning cuddles, the kiss he'd give you while making dinner, the way he'd smile when you dropped something, his laugh at something that wasn't even remotely funny, the way he'd always wear socks around the house; simply just everything about him felt like a missing part of you. but after all your moping and feeling down, you remembered why he was a missing part. you remembered what he'd done. you felt sick every time you thought about it, a feeling you knew you didn't deserve to feel. he was gone for a reason, and he was going to stay gone. 
seven o clock rolled around and you were ready to set off into town. double checking your bag, you had the essentials: your keys, self defence alarm, makeup, phone charger and of course, your phone. slowly walking down the stairs, your high heels were a little higher than usual. you were ready to flaunt how beautiful your legs were. you felt free to show yourself off, considering you weren't tied down anymore. you reached the front door and took one final look in the mirror, smiling at yourself. opening the front door, your girls greeted you with a cheer and a smile, happy to finally see you leaving the house. 

"are you ready to drink your sadness away?"

you laughed at charlotte's immediate invasion of your feelings. the others shot her a quick glance, which you caught on to. 

"i'm not sad anymore," 

you lied, completely shamelessly. you didn't want them worrying anymore. you didn't want them to think you were sad over someone so vile. 

"but i am ready to drink."