GODSPEED | HARRY STYLES

TWO.

Ever have a staring contest with a bottle of vodka?

It fucking sucks. The way it taunts you and begs you to scoot just a little closer.

Take a sip, it says.

Just one sip!

I don't remember a large portion of my high school experience. For that, I blame alcohol and coke.

It was Talia who sort of forced me onto the right path. She had always tried to get me to quit. For a long time, I didn't listen. But she never gave up on me.

When she admitted her feelings to me, I was a complete ass about it. Told her I wasn't going to waste my time falling in love. Thinking about it now, she should've slapped me in the face.

By the end of senior year, I started to realize the monster I was becoming. All it took was one night to snap some sense into me. I don't like talking about that night, but just know it was a real eye opener.

So I sucked it up and went to AA, picked my grades up enough to walk that stage, and actually started listening to my parents. And when Talia was getting ready to leave for college, it hit me.

I really loved her.

And remember that stupid airport kiss I told you about? She never shut up about it.

Talia was my rock throughout this whole sobriety thing. That and Kush. The person or the drug, you can decide.

I thought getting sober would keep her around for good. But I guess not.

I know I don't deserve someone like Talia. All she's ever done is love me and I threw it back in her face. But I mended that, yet she didn't see that as enough. But she has a point.

Communication was never my strong suit. When it came down to feelings and talking about them, I just wouldn't. She was always trying to get me to open up and tell her exactly what emotions I was feeling. It's not like I've never been vulnerable in front of her. I have, especially when I was getting sober.

But as soon as I was sober, I decided to take it upon myself to take care of her. Which meant I was the one always listening to her problems and fixing them and helping her. Just like she helped me. She had seen me through so many low points and not once would I be there for hers. So the second I stopped drinking and going out, I made sure that she never had to go through that again.

I might've overdone it though. I stopped opening up in fear that she would get sick of having to look after me, but in the end it only made it our downfall.

I can fix this.

She's not gone for good. There's still something to be salvaged. I can do better. I'll try to be better for her. I don't care what it takes.

Suddenly that bottle of vodka doesn't look so tempting anymore.

"Monroe?" Maeve's groggy voice speaks through the phone.

"Tell me the room number."

"What are you talking about? What's going on?"

"I know you know she's staying at a hotel. She wouldn't go anywhere alone without telling someone her exact location because she's afraid of dying and no one ever finding her. So tell me the room number."

There's a brief silence, followed by the sound of shuffling sheets and a drawer being opened. A long sigh comes from her end and I can tell she's mentally cussing me out in her head.

"Room 257. The Marriot."

"The Marriot?" I sit up, my brows furrowing together.

"I'm just the messenger. I didn't ask and I don't want to know. Whatever you're about to do, stay safe."