The Waiting Game || Harry Styles

Chapter 11

How I imagine the girls apartment ^^^ 

I ended up going home after Harry showed up, crying almost the entire way back. Starting out in hot tears of anger thinking back to everything he had said durning the concert and on the visit he paid me. His words felt like someone had dug needles in my ears.

"What happened to best friends forever?" Played over and over in my head. Words that use to feel like a hug surrounding me, now felt like a punch in the stomach. The worse part of it was after I poured my soul out to him, the last three years of my thoughts put out into the open. Only for him to spin the blame on me. 

The rage slowly fell into sadness, the bitter memories falling into the sweet ones that I wish I could now just forget. My H was gone. Everything about my best friend had disappeared, the curls, his pure skin, even his eyes. It was like he was a shell, just walking around surviving but with no soul or heart. 

Completely empty. 

There was clearly no coming back from this. I had lost him. 

The flat was empty when I got home, which I was happy about. I headed straight towards my bedroom and slump myself into bed, pulling my soft duvet over my head and releasing all my emotions. Me crying on my way home seemed like a sniffle compared to the state I had gotten myself in. I know for some Harrys words may have seemed weak and watered down, but to me they could possibly be the worse things ever said towards me in my whole life. 

Maybe the fact it was coming from him is what hurt the most. 

I stayed huddled up in my cocoon sobbing until I felt like I had no water left in my body and air in my lungs. I laid on my back looking up to the ceiling replaying again and again what had happened today, my body completely exhausted. 

What am I doing? 

Why am I sat at home crying over him when he's probably laughing to himself over the whole interaction. I sit myself up straight and decide to grab my sketch book to draw an idea of something to paint for my project. Resting the pad on my knee I pick up my pencil it fitting perfectly in my fingers, like it was made to be there. My hands move before my brain when I sketch, almost as if they know what I'm thinking before I do. 

During my sketch I shade the correct places, darkening the patches that I planned to colour later. The rough drawing takes me about an hour to complete, I set my pencil down and look at the book. 

A large butterfly takes the middle of my page surrounding it are vines with smaller butterflies resting on the plants leafs. I'm happy with the piece and know this is something I want to make better and turn into a painting. 

I've had some form of 'painters block' since second year, feeling no inspiration at all. But this sudden emotion I'm filled with has given me the ideas I've finally needed. 

"Katie? Are you here?" Dee shouts from the front door. 

I jumped off my bed and decided to get changed quick as the top I had on was stained from my cry. Throwing my green hoodie on and a pair of joggers, and turn towards my bedroom door before opening it and stepping out into the hallway of the flat. I can hear her in the lounge and some more muffled voices. Im trying to work out what she's watching as I pass her bedroom door and turn the corner into the open living room. 

"Hey Dee, you'll never guess what happened today" 

She spins her head around to meet him and her eyes go wide. A look of worry, panic and guilt flood her face all at once. I shoot her a confused look and laugh. "What's up? Are you watching greys without me or something?" I peer my head around more expecting to be met with Derek Shepard but the TV is off.