Skipping Rocks and Falling in Love - Harry Styles fanfic

PART FOUR.

*Chapter written in the point of view of Harry. And for all you who don't know, when I put "***" it means it's a flashback and when it's put at the end it means it's the end of it. ENJOY!*

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  I splashed the cold water on my face, letting the fresh sensation wake me up from my drowsy and worn out state. The tiny lucid droplets of water competing against each other, as they raced down my cheeks wetting my loose t-shirt in the process. I looked at myself in the mirror and grimaced, expressing the disgust of my clearly sickening refexion. I looked nothing like Harry, if anything I was the essence of exhausted. I looked groggy. My usual thick bundle of chocolate brown hair and strands of looped curls, sticking out in the strangest of places, making me look like I had just ultimately come out of a horror film.

 My mind was nothing but a blur with a little bit of last night’s dream remaining, as I allowed myself to piece back the remnants of the spiteful conversation that I had with my mother before going to bed in a huff. I wanted to go back to my dream. I wanted to live inside my dream and never wake up, for living inside a dream is like living inside your own imagination. It's a peaceful place in which permits you to escape reality and be your own character, live the life you have always desired to live. Nobody to tell you what's right and what's wrong, nobody to judge your true colors, nobody to interfere with your inner thoughts and feelings. Just you and your ideal surroundings. When you dream, it's like you’re in control of what you want your destiny and fate to be. Almost as if you’re the artist painting the events of your capricious life before they magically unfold by themselves, only to create an enticing portrait of your very own inclinations.

I wanted to go back.

I needed to go back.

 I woke up this morning to the rich sunlight bathing my skin as I lay on my back, realization of my sudden and unfortunate awakening slapping me on the face, making my dream impossible to chase. I dreamt of a faraway place. Anywhere that didn’t include home. After the disagreement with my mother, the last thing I wanted to do was have to face her once again. I was sitting under a canopy full of cherry blossoms. My body lying in a lifeless manner on the lush grass, as I was encircled by a meadow of wild flowers and by the blossoms different tints and mixtures of pure pink which hung over me like ostentatious drapes. Off in the distance a fiery orange sunset can be seen drowning off in the horizon, the faint rays of remaining sunlight invading the boisterous blue sky painting it a multitude of colors. The shades of glowing orange and pernicious pink bestowing the land with an eternal beauty, one that was rare. Once in a life time. I closed my eyes while spreading out my arms, the warm yet inviting breeze skidding gently against my face enlightening my soul with a sense of relaxation and everlasting happiness.

 I loved sunsets almost as much as I loved dreams. Sunsets always gave me a feeling of hope. The whole symbolism behind it, of ending a good day then being welcomed by a new one. A new day, a new blessing. A new reason to be thankful.

 Waking up today from this dream, I already understood that no matter how many sunsets were displayed in front my eyes or visible in it, that feeling of hope and gratitude would not be underwent in any form. Today was not going to be a good day.

I could already feel it.

 I sluggishly reached for a towel on the top cupboard beside the bathroom mirror which was as clean and clear as water, my repulsive morning appearance ruining its spotless circumstance.  I took the towel, lightly tapping my face, the fuzzy material absorbing the numerous tiny drops of liquid which were dotted along my visage. Getting ready in the morning was always a battle, especially if it’s as early as 8:30 on a Saturday.