Under Pressure {H.S}

Chapter 47

TW: mentions of abnormal eating habits. may be a triggering subject for some readers.

Harry's POV:

I rush to the back door of Hippie Haven, opening the door and closing it with extreme haste.

I have never been so scared in my entire life.

I have never reacted so quickly to someone's voice.

The second she said "Harry?" over the phone, I threw my guitar to the side and jumped up from my spot in the living room. My car keys were in my hand in five seconds.

I remember the phone call, but I don't remember driving. It was a haze from our flat to here.

"Hav?" I call out, entering the store.

It's too quiet in here. Every time I visit, there's always music playing. Hav is always humming to herself.

No music tonight.

The yellow-ish lighting is usually warm, but right now it feels cold. There's no warmth tonight, either.

I only take a few steps into the store until I catch movement out of the corner of my eye.

I immediately turn my head in that direction, and my heart sinks to my feet.

She's so pale. She looks like a ghost.

Please tell me she didn't...

My mind flashes images from the night she passed out at Ryan's party all those months ago:

"I hold her head in my hands, gently rubbing her cheek with my thumb. "Mia, hey, look at me please," I say, causing her to force her eyelids open. 'Good girl,' I assure her with a little smile. I'm so worried. I look back and forth between her eyes. 'Tell me what you need, I'm right here.' I take a second to look over her body to make sure she's not hurt...

"I saw you stumbling down the hallway. I came to make sure you were okay, and when I came in here you looked like a ghost."

What if she passed out and I wasn't here to catch her?

My own inhale snaps me from my daze. I've been holding my breath.

Her under-eyes are puffy and her hair lays messily but beautifully at her shoulders. She stands there, her hands crossed over her stomach, looking so lost in a place that she's familiar with. She tries to smile, but fails.

I walk forward, immediately pulling her into my chest. Her try at a smile turns into a frown. Eventually, she begins to sob into me, holding her hands over her eyes. I hold the back of her head and massage her back lightly. God, what has happened?

She feels so fragile.

She hasn't eaten.

"I'm so sorry," she cries.

Her shoulders shake with every exhale and her body tenses with every inhale. The delicate-ness of her existence becomes even more obvious when she lets go like this. Not to say crying is equivalent to delicacy.

I don't know how someone could be so beautiful when they cry. But I've also never witnessed someone with a sob so crushing. Just the change of expression in her eyes and the sound of her breaking voice alone could cause anyone to break down with her.

I can feel my heart beating furiously. I don't know what to do. How am I supposed to help her if I'm falling apart, too?

"Shh, I'm right here," I say in attempt to calm her down. "I've got you."

Her cries begin to slow, and I take a half-step back. She quietly curses, bringing a hand up to wipe away her tears. "Fuck, I don't know why I'm crying."