Lights (2013)

3

"Blair, what the actual fuck?"

I snap my eyes open and look up to see Louis standing over me, his jaw clenched and his eyes angry. 

I then realize Harry is still holding me.

"What is he still doing here? And why..."

"Shh!" I shush him, knowing if Harry wakes up, all hell will break loose. "I didn't want him driving back in the middle of the night," I tell Louis.

"Why not? Maybe he could have gotten into a car crash and relieved us all."

"Such a kind thought," Harry mumbles without opening his eyes. "You must have so many friends."

I face palm myself.

"I don't want him sleeping over any more," Louis says, ignoring Harry.

"Jesus, who are you, her father?" Harry opens his eyes now; they're dark and frosted.

"No, but I am her brother, and I advise you get your sorry ass out of her bed before I wake her father," Louis snaps.

"Stepbrother," Harry corrects. "You're not her real brother."

"Oh my God, what did I say?" I say now, arriving at my wit's end. "Did I not say that I would wring your necks if I hear you two fighting? Can there be no peace?"

They both stare at me. Louis huffs and walks out of the room, leaving a me with a smirking Harry.

"What a prick," Harry snorts, getting out of bed and running a hand through his hair.

"You too," I say, walking to the bathroom to splash water on my face. "You provoke him."

"But he reacts," Harry points out. "Can I borrow your toothbrush?" He asks.

"Fuck no!" I say and Harry laughs. He knows how OCD I am about my things.

"Please, I'll buy you a new one," he begs.

I sigh. "Fine, but it can only be Colgate. No Crest. And absolutely no Oral-B."

Harry laughs again and I watch with disgust as he runs my toothbrush over his teeth. He smirks when I wrinkle my nose. I reach past him, grabbing my prescription bottle. I unscrew the top, spilling the pills into my open hand. I get a cup that I keep in the bathroom and fill it with tap water. Harry watches me as he brushes his teeth. I swallow my pills, returning the bottle to its original place. 

I’m sick. Well…I’m sick mentally. I’m depressed, have been for twelve years. The pills stabilize my mood, allowing my life to be livable. Harry is the only one, aside from my family, that knows about the antidepressants. 

It still amazes me how Harry and I are friends at all sometimes. I watch his tattooed skin shift as he continues to brush his teeth, his eyebrow ring glinting in the lights of the bathroom. I wouldn't be caught dead with even marker ink on me, let alone tattoos. And it was hard enough for me to get my ears pierced. I still remember the days when Harry had no tattoos or piercings and didn't party and drink every weekend. I remember when he used to be more like me. Times have changed, though, even when I haven't.

Harry catches me staring at him and smirks as he finishes brushing. "Enjoying the view?"

I scoff. "Please, don't flatter yourself," I tell him. "I'm more disgusted at the tattoos you call art on your skin."

He rolls his eyes. I've never made it a secret that I'm not a fan of all the ink. "You won't be saying that when you get one."

"Oh, please," I snort. "The day I get a tattoo is the day Penny wears something that doesn't suffocate her."