✓ bromance one shots ✎ major editing ✐

✎ merry xmas ☞ narry

Warnings
☞ abuse of drugs
☞ suicidal thoughts
☞ strong language

THIRD PERSON'S POV

Harry sloppily licked the joint shut, lit it up, breathed in the narcotic substance and willingly welcomed it to swamp his lungs and numb his mind, desperately yearning for it to empower his brain so his thoughts would dissipate and become lost within the haze of smoke.

He might have actually fúcked up this once because that is the first time in five years he would be spending Christmas Eve alone, probably the rest of his life as well, but that thought was for another day, another joint.

He wants to blame it on the person who got him hooked on the carcinogenic material he now sniffed, smoked, and injected into his bloodstream on a daily bases and made him forget about his once-upon-a-time sole addiction, Niall, but that would not do his situation any justice, just give him some false hope.

He would take any hope thrown his way really.

Niall was probably the only person who put up with the almost always high Harry; the only person who would ever love him enough to do so actually, and he managed to lose the only normality he had left in his life as well.

He lost Niall.

"Bravoooo Harry . . . Harreh . . . Styling? Yes! Bravo Harry Styling." He stood up and bowed to the audience his mind displayed before him. "You lost your dearest Niel Horan."

I'm tired of dealing with your fúcked up, drug addict, crack whóre áss. I'm fúcking done with you.

Harry hoped he would die from overdosing soon.

• • •

Harry's hair was pulled into a messy and greasy bun atop his head. His skin was so sickly, and if Niall saw him like that, he would have a proper freak out.

But he wasn't there anymore.

So, Harry did not find it in himself to even bother with life whatsoever. What was the point anyway?

Niall was not there to love him and give his arid being a sip of the normality his azure eyes possessed; the one Harry dropped somewhere along the way, accompanied by his sense and ability to differentiate between what's wrong and right.

Because everything in his life was wrong, and his mind deciphered that a little too late for his own good.

His fingers shook violently as he desperately tried to roll a fiver without all of its contents spilling out before he could smoke it. He was itching to have the God forsaken substance flood his bloodstream and gently carry him to the furthest shade of ecstasy he can reach.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Oblivion.

Harry was slowly spiraling into the pit of no return. When Niall was there, he could depend on the faux blond to catch him before he fell in too deep, but now since his barricade was no more, he did not really mind falling, in fact, he awaited no-return to envelope him.

So amidst all the conundrum and ecstasy his mind lay a mess within, he picked up his phone and dialed Niall's number.

Niall never ignored Harry's calls.

But he did this time, and if that was not finality to Harry, he did not know what was.

•  •  •