Anti Blue Skies

I was starting to get very frustrated after picking up every bottle, can, and cigarette that was messily lying around the apartment. It didn’t seem fair that every time Quinn decided to throw a party, I was the one left cleaning up, but I knew my lazy roommate would never set foot near a mop or a sink full of dirty dishes, even if I promised to pay her rent for the next few months.

I tied the knot to the oversized garbage bag I’d been using to store the thousands of glass bottles and began my journey dragging it to the door. I could have sworn it weighed more than I did, but I didn’t give up because I wasn’t about to leave an enormous bag of recyclables in the middle of my kitchen.

Finally I made it to the front door. I’d have to remember to bring the bottles to the apartment building’s recycling bin out back when daylight rolled around. It was about four in the morning and every bone in my body was aching. Plus, I was scared of the dark and it didn’t help that I lived in the sketchiest part of London.

I sighed, going to the cupboard to grab an empty cup and fill it with water from the tap. I noticed the temperature in the living space was hotter than usual and suddenly wished I had picked to wear a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, instead I changed out of Manny’s dress and into a sweatshirt and long leggings with bootie slippers.

I made sure Louis took a cab home, not wanting him to go home with a stranger from the party, I wasn’t even sure if there was a single sober person in an entire two-block radius. It would have been my fault if anything happened to him because by the end of the night he was past the point of forming coherent words and walking in a straight line.

I drew the cup to my lips, hoping the cold liquid would help cool me down as I took a few sips. As I leaned against the counter, my blue eyes drifted to the living room and I immediately spotted the stain on the carpet from the fight Lucy and I got into. It had faded a lot since that day, but I couldn’t help but go into a complete haze trying to think about her. She hadn’t tried calling me and even though we left on a good note, it crossed my mind that she could be angry with me somehow.

I jumped forward off the counter as soon as I heard a loud slam coming from the bathroom, drawing my thoughts away from my troubled little sister as sounds of hacking and gagging startled me further. My first instinct was that it was Quinn, sick from intoxication, but the more I listened it sounded more and more like a man, which made me very uncomfortable to say the least. It could’ve been anyone.

I approached the door slowly, hesitating to knock but ending up doing so anyways in my attempt to be polite.

“Is everything alright in there?” I asked nervously, knowing full well it was a stupid question, obviously things weren’t alright in there.

When I didn’t hear a response, I twisted the door knob, opening it just enough to peek my head in. That’s when I saw Harry, skin pale and eyes a deadly shade of red. He was leaning over the toilet with his necklaces dangling over his back and his head turned enough to stare directly at me. His arms were trembling as he gripped the edges of the toilet, trying to keep himself steady.

I could hardly recognize him.

His lips quivered right before he heaved, arching his back to throw up again. My eyebrows furrowed as I quickly stepped into the room, closing the door behind me. I set my glass of water on the counter next to the sink and Quinn’s ratty hairbrush.

Harry coughed as he emptied himself into the toilet bowl and I instinctively crouched down next to him on the frosty tiled floor. He groaned in pain and anger, so I shushed him soothingly and rubbed a hand to his back to help him relax a bit. He was so painfully tense, I wasn’t expecting him to feel so warm, but he was sweating a great amount through his plaid shirt.

He leaned back against the bathtub after throwing up a couple more times, lifting one of his knees to casually rest his elbow. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing and clearing his throat. I couldn’t help the look of concern that was most likely written across my entire face. I didn’t want to waste my worry on him, but it was like I had no other choice.

“I bet you have a killer headache.” I tried offering him my strongest smile. Why? “Here, let me get you something for that.”

I pushed myself off of my knees and walked the short distance to the medicine cabinet, standing on my tippy-toes in order to look past all the toothpaste, deodorants, midol, and birth control. I pushed a bottle of nail polish remover to the side and found a small container of extra strength tylenol. He would have to settle, it wasn’t exactly ibuprofen, which I used for every little problem, but I figured because he was a man, extra strength would be just the trick.

I twisted the cap and shook two tablets into my hand. When I held them down for him to take, his face puckered and his head shook aggressively, “Give me four.”

In my head I thought that was a little much, but my body disagreed and effortlessly shook two more tablets out of the bottle. I handed them to him along with the glass of water I had been drinking out of earlier. He didn’t need to know that bit of information, as if it would even bother him to begin with.

I watched as he tossed the pills back, chugging half of the water along with them. I had never realized how big Harry’s adam’s apple was before, but it was hard to look anywhere else when it was moving up and down in one fluid motion as he drank the water like he was completely dehydrated, which he probably was.

He drew the cup from his lips and made a rather refreshing sound. Satisfied, he held the cup up to me, pleading me with his eyes that were starting to gain their color back. I took the glass from his hand and placed it back on the counter, then I knelt down next to him before I could try stopping myself.

“Do you feel better?” I questioned, tracing a pattern on the floor with my finger.

“The tylenol’s gotta kick in, but at least I don’t feel like I’m gonna vomit all over you,” he mumbled, readjusting himself by the toilet seat. When I glanced up at him through my lashes he was intensly watching my finger move left and right.

“It’s almost five in the morning, Harry.” I noted, not exactly sure where I was going with it. I stopped moving my finger and placed my hands together on my lap.

He glanced over to me, nodding his head. “Yeah, and?”

I shrugged my shoulders, twiddling my thumbs together. Harry bit his lip, scooting further away from the toilet, making himself more comfortable.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” I shot my head up at his remark, it sounded so sincere. “Because I can take a hint, I’ll just grab my shit and be on my way. Quinn’s been passed out for awhile now anyways so there’s really no point in sticking around.”

He reached behind him to use the edge of the bathtub to pull himself up. I processed what he was rambling on about and quickly followed his lead by standing up in front of him, blocking his exit. Truth was at first, I did want him to leave, but as soon as he started talking about leaving, I didn’t want him to anymore.

“No, I wasn’t trying to tell you to leave.” I reached out in order to take his hand in mine, I noticed the way his throat moved when he swallowed nervously. “I was trying to say it’s late, or early if you want to look at it that way… you should get some sleep. I think you’re on the schedule for tomorrow.”

His thumb rubbed over mine lightly with an engaging smirk planted on his face. “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea, actually.”

I felt myself start to smile, but when his thumb traced over mine again I immediately dropped whatever smile was trying to break through and tore my hand away. As I lead him into the hall, I mentally slapped myself in the face one thousand times for almost giving into the effortless and irresistible charm of Harold Edward Styles. I couldn’t get careless around him, not even for a second because that’s where I went wrong the first time around.

I walked past Quinn’s room, expecting Harry to go in, but instead he followed me into the kitchen like a child who’s had too much sugar before bed and won’t go to sleep.

“I know you’re not exactly sober, but Quinn’s room is that way remember?” I reminded him, exhaustion very evident in my voice.

Harry shrugged me off and started opening another garbage bag that was lying on the table. He leaned his head away from the bag when he shook it open fully, then started walking around to pick up cans.

“I figure you need the help.” He raised an eyebrow at me, tossing an empty beer can into the bag. “Like you said, it’s almost five and this place still looks like proper shit.”

I nodded, letting him join in on cleaning my apartment. He was right, if I ever wanted to get any sleep tonight he’d have to help me get this done.

A half an hour later, all we had left to do was carry the bags down to the recycling bins. Harry picked up the bag full of bottles and opened the door for the two of us. He made lifting it look easy, so without thinking I pulled up on the knot.

Unfortunately, I lifted it an inch before dropping it right back where it was on the floor. Harry looked down at me with an amused expression on his face, still holding the door open with his free hand.

“You coming?” he snickered with wide eyes and a cheeky grin.

I bent down to try wrapping both of my arms around the stuffed garbage bag, trying to avoid how humiliating the situation was. Lately, every embarrassing thing I did happened in front of Harry, like when I slipped on the spilled peaches.

Still, I couldn’t pick up the bag. I could probably drag it, but I didn’t want to risk the tin slicing open the plastic.

“I hate to ask… but, do you mind?” I stammered, scared to ask him because I looked dumb enough.

“Hold the door," he sighed, over exaggerating. I traded spaces with him, following his orders as he scooped up the bag.

We headed out the door and down the hall, with me a step behind. The hallway felt hotter than my apartment, so I uncomfortably rolled up each of my sleeves. Silence fell over us as we rode the elevator down to the first floor. When the elevator dinged upon arrival, I looked to Harry who was offering me the lead.

Suddenly, it was like a tidal wave washing over me. The lobby was actually set to a normal temperature which somehow felt like a huge weight was being taken off my shoulders. I didn’t feel so awkward in Harry’s presence, instead I rolled down my sleeves and rushed out the back door.

“How are you holding up, Harry?” I cackled while he approached me, ready to throw the bags into the large green and blue bins.

“Just fine. Thanks,” he breathed, clearly struggling a little more than he let on.

A light smile formed on my lips as I held the lids up to make it easier for him. He threw them in, then clasped his hands together, shaking out the tension in his fingers.

“Do you do this after every party?” He asked me, rubbing the palms of his hands on his jeans.

I nodded, “They aren’t always this heavy, but usually I don’t get to sleep until around this time. I guess it just depends on when people finally decide to leave.”

His eyes grew large. “I am so sorry, I had no idea.”

“No idea I had a crappy roommate?” I was confused as to why he was sorry, maybe he was sorry because he was the one sleeping with her.

“She’s not a crappy roommate. The party was my idea in the first place,” he insisted, leaning against the brick wall and crossing his arms.

“Why? Don’t you have your own place to drink and snort heroin?” He laughed at my drug reference, shaking his head. I forced a laugh just to keep him talking.

“Not really,” his smile immediately fell. “Not anymore.”

Just like that, I felt awkward and out of place again. Harry was so different now, he never used to be so depressing and serious. Now, he was a panic away from bipolar and I just didn’t know how to read him. Did he not have a place to stay? That could be why he stayed with Quinn and I so frequently.

I shuffled over to the spot next to him by the wall, leaning against it the way he was. I stared up at the sky, noticing how the sun was slowly rising over the line of apartment buildings and tree branches.

I cleared my throat, pulling my sleeves over my hands to feel more secure. “Can I ask you something?”

“Why do you always ask if you can ask me something?” He asserted, tilting his head to look down at me. "Just do it."

He went right back to being rude, unrecognizable Harry and all I did was bring up his house. I should have asked him what was going on with his living situation. It would have been the proper, human thing for me to do, but I chose a different route.

My tired eyes blinked a couple of times, starting to feel extremely heavy. “Do you love Quinn?”

I wasn’t expecting for it to come out so brash.

Harry didn't even need a moment to think. “No I don’t, not even a little bit.”

“Why are you with her, then?”

He ran a hand through his visibly greasy hair, shaking his head slightly. "I think you know why, Lydia."

“I mean, I understand you’re keeping her bed warm, but I just don’t think that should be the only reason you see her. That’s leading her on. I should know.” My voice softened and Harry let out a breath of air I hadn’t realized he was holding in. When he looked over to me, a force I was unaware of pulled my eyes to his.

“Why are you sticking up for her?" The anger was evident in his tone of voice. "She's awful to you."

I shrugged my shoulders, pushing myself off the wall. “That’s what she lets on Harry, but I know underneath it all she’s just afraid of getting hurt. She has her moments when she cares,” I paused to stand in front of him. “And she cares about you.”

I was sticking up for Quinn because I didn't want him pulling the same stunt with her that he used on me, I’ve said it one million times, no one should have to go through that pain. I knew Quinn cared about Harry because of the way she’d cook for him, or drag him around, or the way she said they were a couple when she was drunk, even if it wasn’t true.

I watched as Harry stared down at the ground, the screws in his head spinning. "I've never given her a reason to, though."

"That doesn't matter," I sighed, looking down at the ground so I wouldn't have to look into his eyes. "You're just you, Harry. Girls don't know when and how they fall for you, they just do."

"Not you," he told me. "You never did. You hated me. Hell, you still do."

I couldn't explain it, but when I saw the flicker of sadness in his eyes, I felt offended that he thought that. Which, is silly, because I spent a majority of my time thinking about how much I despised him, how I wanted nothing but the worst for him, but looking at him now I realized that I hated him because I didn't hate him at all.

It took me a minute to speak, but when I did, it was like a weight was being lifted off my shoulders, only coming out in a whisper.

"I think we both know I never really hated you."

I watched as he swallowed, a blush rising to the surface of his. I studied him and for a split second I thought he might throw his arms around me and spin me around. He didn't, instead he readjusted himself off the wall and turned to me completely.

“Let’s go back up, It’s been a long night.” He said after clearing his throat and leading me to the door.

Yes, a bloody long night.