P.S. (Please Stay)

Nine

Harry slumped on the couch, a glass of tequila in front of his scowling face. It was two days after Christmas, Harry was almost certain. He didn't care what day it was. He only wanted it to be night, so he could sleep and give his mind a break from the girl who kept running through it. Of course, she filled his dreams as well, but the subconscious thoughts were easier to handle than the conscious ones.

"Harry, love... don't you want to come for dinner with Gemma and I?" Anne asked, sitting across from Harry with a concerned frown on her face. She was trying, bless her, but it would not work.

"No," Harry answered, his quick reply almost overlapping Anne's words. He brought the glass to his lips and took a sip closer to a gulp. The larger sip burned, but he didn't care. Everything burned now.

Anne let out a quiet sigh, reaching out and touching Harry's knee. "Maybe you ought to put the drink down, dear," she urged quietly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I am," he pointed out, punctuating his comment with another sip. It wasn't what Anne meant, but he would not listen to her. Anne was well aware of the heartache Harry was experiencing. Harry and Olivia's screaming match in the hallway was anything but private, and Gemma had admitted she and Anne stood by the door, listening to every word. But heartache or not, Anne disapproved of heavy drinking. But, like most things in the last couple days, Harry didn't care.

"It will not make it better," Anne reminded her son. She squeezed his knee. "Come for dinner with us. Have a shower, get out of the house. You need to do something."

Harry scowled. "You have no idea what I need," he told his mother, sounding cross. "I don't want to go. Just leave me alone," he added, avoiding Anne's eyes as he sassed her. She was trying to help him, but he didn't want her help. He only wanted Olivia, and that would not be happening.

Anne frowned. "Are you going to spend the rest of the week in a drunken stupor?" she asked. "Perhaps Gemma and I should just go back home early if you are going to be like this."

"Perhaps you should," Harry countered. They wouldn't leave early. He didn't want them to leave early. If they left before the new year, Harry would have no one to distract him from his overwhelming thoughts. But he wished they would leave for a few hours.

Anne shook her head as she sighed again. "Love, I know you were hoping for a different outcome with Olivia. Honestly, so was I. And you're allowed to be unhappy, but your rudeness is uncalled for. Especially to me," she added, squeezing his knee again.

Harry groaned. "Just go for your fucking supper, Mum," he snapped. He would apologise later.

Harry's words didn't seem to affect Anne. She offered him a sympathetic smile before standing up. "We'll bring you some takeaway," she promised, ruffling Harry's hair.

He frowned, wishing she wasn't being so kind. He was being an asshole and it would be easier if Anne wasn't such a good person. "Fine," Harry grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest as Anne met a waiting Gemma in the foyer. A moment later, the door shut and Harry sighed. Despite his words, he didn't want to be alone. He didn't know what he wanted. Except for one thing.

Harry scrolled through his phone, perusing Instagram but paying no attention. He wished he hadn't deleted Olivia from his followers. Her life behind her private Instagram would remain a secret to Harry. Though seeing her happy life may very well kill him.

He sighed. She wasn't happy. She was stubborn and a martyr. He couldn't understand why she refused to be with the person she loved the most. She was infuriating, but God, he loved her.

And he couldn't have her.

He downed the rest of his drink in a single gulp, the burn not enough to rid the ache in his heart. Angrily, he swiped his arm across the coffee table, the books and ornaments falling to the floor with a sensational crash. Harry stood up, stumbling over his feet. He kicked a book out of his way with frustration as he staggered into the kitchen.