This Thing Upon Me [Order The eBook] [Harry Styles]

Chapter 12***

(DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner.)

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***THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED AND IS NO LONGER CENSORED***

"I don't ever ask you, where you've been...cause I don't feel the need to know who you're with. And I can't even think straight, but I can tell...that you were just with her..."

Harry | Just A Little Bit Of Your Heart

It was two in the afternoon when Gemma came in to wake me. I could barely see her, even though she stood right in front of me. She was more of a shadowy silhouette, back-lit by the light beaming in from the balcony. I shut my eyes again since my head was pounding and put a pillow over my head. I had hardly managed to crawl back into bed after rushing to the toilet, and somehow still pissed myself despite laying in the bathroom for half an hour. I had a vague memory of peeling my clothes off and dumping them in the shower and turning it on. 

I told her I'd meet her downstairs in an hour so we could get out for a bit, and hurried to the shower to find my jeans, shirt, and underwear in a sodden heap where I'd left them. I wrung them out as best I could and sent them away to the hotel laundry, then checked my phone.

Social media was never as quiet as it was today. I saw a few stupid things that made me abandon twitter like the shipwreck it was. After a similar experience with IG, I mimed throwing my phone against the wall for no reason other than my own sick gratification.

As I grew older, I was starting to feel a noticeable change in how happy I was whenever I avoided social media. It was healthier for me in the long-term, and I began to implement these little "breaks" more and more often, (to the annoyance of our team).

Now I decided this trip was the best time to practice that theory, so I deleted the app, hoping to avoid it with all the other bullsh-t that was going on at the moment. A friend of mine once compared social networks to a house party you'd been invited to where there were a few good people whose company you'd enjoyed, but there were far more people present who just really weren't that great. Considering it that way, nothing would convince me to attend that party, so why on earth did I bother at all?

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The sky-train whisked us around the city in no time, spoiling us with decent views of the rural and urban quarters of the city, and taking us from market to market to do a lot of shopping and taste-testing. I imagined how nice everything would look at night—the buildings lit up like Christmas or the countryside illuminated by the moon.

When we got to a busy mall, despite my hat and glasses, I was nearly mobbed and we had to make a run for it, barely getting away in a tuk tuk driven by a short bald man who had no idea why we were being chased. He deposited us at a quiet park where we chilled at a fountain and ate Thai snacks, before Gemma decided she wanted to see the Palace.

"And get mobbed again?" I grumbled.

"No one'll care about you there. They'll all be in awe of the architecture."

"I want egg noodles." Cal said, popping his shoes off and flexing his toes.

"Ugh, I just want food." I added.

"Ok, how about we take some of this stuff back to the hotel, regroup, and then we'll all head out for food?"

"Sounds good to me."