Damaged Goods. (A Harry Styles Fanic)

Chapter Twenty-One

When Harry had returned home drunk that night, Lola assumed it was the result of one night with his friends. But over the next couple of weeks or so, it became a frequent occurence. Harry was out a lot more, and she'd noticed a bigger change in him as he came to terms with his loss.

Harry wasn't exactly new to alcohol like any teenage lad, and often drank when he went out to parties or with his friends, but Lola had never witnessed him searching for a drink on weekdays. He seemed to have founded new people to hang around with, people who offered him dangerous things to help him have a good time.

It had only been a mere three and a half weeks since Andy's death, yet Harrys appearance had changed considerably. His bright healthy complexion and been replaced by a more gaunt jawline, red blemishes dotting his skin and tired eyes. His thick chocolate curls had lost lusture and created a messy mop around his head. 

Lola wondered what happened to the missing bottle of whisky at the bottom of the kitchen cupboard, then later found it under Harrys bed; empty. She started to feel a little uneasy wondering if he was using it to take his mind of things. And going too far.

He couldn't wait until Friday night when he could go out and get wasted, not having to worry about getting up in the morning and facing a new day. It was safe to say he was taking Andys death hard, and struggled to find a healthy way to cope. All his other previous methods of coping with his problems were harmful to either himself of Lola, and he didn't know how else he could deal with it. So he turned to going out, most of the night, drinking, smoking and trying to bury away his sorrow and grief.

"You know it's not healthy" Lola commented quietly, standing in front of the living room mirror pulling her hair back, a bobby pin held between her teeth.

"What?"

"What you're doing. Why don't you just talk to someone? It might help"

"Why don't you shut up and leave me alone, that might help" he replied monotonously, rooting under the sofa cushions for a lighter. Lola turned around and sighed

"It's just as unhealthy to drink and smoke as self harming is. There's better ways to-"

"Says you" he said, silencing Lola who had no argument for that. 

"I'm just saying.....it's practically self harming from the insid-"

"And i'm just saying, leave me alone!" Harry raised his voice, his eyes turning fiery green with frustration. He was sick of being told the same thing by his parents, he didn't need Lola butting in to his life. Harry only saw it as going out and having fun with his friends, but everyone around him could see that it was a problem when he was necking a bottle of whisky to himself on a Wednesday night.

"I don't need your concern"

Lola didn't want to be showing her concern to Harry but she couldn't help it. She despised him for so long but she felt frustrated seeing him destroy himself and the unusual need to put a stop to it. She couldn't figure out why, and why she couldn't just not be bothered that Harry was going off the rails. 

She shouldn't want to help. She should enjoy watching her bully suffer, right? 

It was subconcious care that drove her to argue back with him, at any attempt to stop him damaging his body to grieve.

Harry pulled out a silver packet of cigarettes from the pocket of his black skinny jeans and his long thin fingers slowly pulled one from the group of twelve packed together. Lola watched in disgust as he flipped the lid down, placing the single cigarette inbetween his slim pink lips. The way they enveloped the end of the slim fag looked as if Harry had been smoking for years.