Dealing With Absence » h. styles au

6ᵀᴴ CHAPTER

                                                    6ᵀᴴ CHAPTER

               

      “Life is a process – just one thing after another. When you lose it, just start again”

  

Harry has a paper and an adress and directions between his fingers, but he’s not quite sure what he should do about it.

Or, like. He sort of does. He sort of knows he should go out the café and ask for information, should start wandering around town and seeking for the street which is written down in some sort of fancy-girly handwriting, but truth is: he doesn’t even know where to start. Has not a single clue, if he’s honest.

All the directions are given based upon the premise that Harry knows the most obvious things about London, which he doesn’t. He isn’t even sure if the places written down on the yellow-ish paper are supposed to be known by anyone besides girl-named-Elisha, but he feels a lot odd for not recognising one of those names. He knows those words should awaken something within his memories, he’s sure he’s been to some of those places before, can vaguely remember drunken conversations in a few of them, but he surely can’t remember where those same places are supposed to be. And really, who the hell memorises streets names? Harry doesn’t. He has better things to do.

So, basically, he feels pathetic. It’s been a couple of hours, he assumes, since he’s been sitting on the same chair and staring at the same sight he’s already getting used to. He can also feel Elisha’s glare settled upon him, but he really, really won’t turn to his left to make sure it’s real. He’s already had enough of awkwardness exchanged between the two of them for the day, really.

He kinda likes her, though. At first, the sympathetic looks and smiles she gave him made him feel pissed – don’t ask him why – and uncomfortable, but now, a week later (it’s less than that, actually, but Harry’s been to that café enough times to assume it’s been a decade already, because time lost all proportion to him since he was put into rehab), it’s actually welcoming. Moreover, she seems to have quite the sense of humour, so he’s really not complaining. Much.

Besides, she’s responsible for saving his life. Quite literally.

Harry doesn’t even want to think about the fact that he has two more days only to find a place before he’s definitely homeless (rehab’s staff decided to shorten his time in the clinic because they’re probably some kind of embodiment of the devil, and that’s pretty much the only theory Harry managed to come up with. Because there’s really no other explanation), and if Elisha’s suggestion doesn’t work out, he’s utterly and completely screwed. In the whole entire week this is the closest he’s gotten to finding a temporary place for himself, and he’s crossing fingers and praying the odds will finally be in his favour.

Hopefully, they will. Harry can sense there’s something about this that just feels right. Elisha said the place is ridiculously cheap (and Harry really can’t understand why she would assume he needs something more expensive, but first impressions are first impressions and he’s glad he doesn’t show his despair as much as he feels it inside. At least he doesn’t look as lost as he actually is, and that is a progress, right?), and also, there’s a chance he might get a job as well. Harry feels things are starting to work out for him. He really expects so.

It’s with a long and exasperate sigh that he forces himself out off the chair, grabbing his empty glass and placing it on the plate before he grabs that one as well, right free hand wrapping around his small notebook, which he presses against his hip as he slides the yellow-ish paper Elisha had given him between the sheets, trying to balance the breakable things on his left hand at the same time, because putting those on the table and using two of his hands to do a proper task is just too mainstream to him.