You'll Be Okay

2

Harry's been waking up and feeling like shit. It's been going on for a while now.

He thought he would stop feeling so down all the time and wake up normal but it seems like this feeling just doesn't want to go away.

This morning, he felt especially bad. Harry had made it a habit to check each morning- wether he wakes up feeling low that day, or not. Today, he felt like he could barely lift his hand to silence the alarm.

"Harry, mate," Ethan groaned from the other side of the wall. "turn your alarm off."

He wanted to say he couldn't, but he felt too stupid about it. So he used all his might and switched it off silently.

"Urgh, thank god." Ethan said, now stood in Harry's bedroom doorway. "It rang for so long I thought my brain was going to explode." He joked, walking away, leaving the door open.

Harry hummed. His mind was blank, heavy, disorientated. What else could he possibly respond with?

A few minutes go by and Harry can hear Ethan's footsteps leading to the bathroom as he yawns, and it sounds like the loudest thing in the world.

He's usually a quick waker, able to jump out of bed as soon as the alarm rings. But somehow, his mornings just became slower and heavier. Like the muscles in his legs didn't work properly, or his fingers refused to move easily.

Time passed, there were no seconds or minutes for Harry anymore, only the bruising weight on his chest. It was all that he could bother to notice these days.

Ethan came stomping back into his room, through the open door, ruffling his hair in a towel. "You're still not up?"

Harry could only blink. He couldn't find the energy in him to move.

"You didn't fall back asleep, did you?"

Now he felt guilty. They were all supposed to be spending the day together but there he was, lying in his bed, resting. He couldn't even find it in himself to reply.

Ethan shrugged, and turned to go about his own business. He walked further into the room and as he turned the hairdryer on a rush of noise filled Harry's ears. Why was he getting ready in Harry's room? He decided he didn't really mind, as the silence that buzzed around his head was getting boring anyway.

His eyes slipped closed, and the corners of his mouth slowly fell downwards. Melting. Melting and sliding off of his face.

Melting, melting, melting. He wondered if he could melt into the mattress and the covers of his bed too.

"Boggy?" Ethan's voice was loud. Was he closer than he was before?

Harry tilted his head towards the sound.

"Hey, are you okay?" Concern wrapped itself around his strong voice.

"Boggy, you look kind of sick. Are you sick? Do you want me to get Josh?"

He gave a tiny nod. Josh would know what to do. Josh is smart, and Harry loves Josh.

Josh can fix him. Josh can cheer him up.

Ethan's fingers tapped against his phone frantically, and after no more than ten seconds, Harry's phone buzzed with a notification.

Ethan lent onto Harry's bed, stroking his messy, bed-ridden hair. It was greasy and drenched in sweat and Harry wanted to tell him to stop. But he couldn't find his voice.

"I sent it to the group chat." Ethan explained. Harry felt a spike of panic. "Our group chat." Clarifying. Calming.

Harry wanted to cry, his eyes tearing up. Why is he being like this? Why is it so hard to get out of bed?