In which Y/N and Harry are fighting, but Harry induces an asthma/panic attack.
I slam the front door behind me, storming into the kitchen and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. The nerve of that bitch. Calling me a slut in front of our boss! Who the fuck does she think she is? What the fuck is her problem?!
I hear the TV from the den right then, the muffled sound of a video game drifting through the walls. Oh, right. That’s her problem with me. I take a deep breath and drag myself upstairs, changing out of my works clothes and grabbing some pajama shorts and Harry’s Hot ‘N Hard t-shirt. It falls maybe mid thigh and I poke at on the holes in the tummy area, smiling softly before I walk back downstairs to the den and lean against the arm of the couch. Harry’s jamming at the buttons on the controller, and he cries out when he loses his game.
“Harry, we need to talk,” I say quietly. He jumps but smiles at me and mutes the TV.
“Um, okay… What’s up?” He asks, turning his body towards me. I take a deep breath and look down.
“We need to talk about Ellie.” My response comes out mumbled but I know Harry heard it, if his rolling eyes are any proof.
“Y/N, we’ve been through this a million ti-” I cut him off.
“Million times, I know. But Harry, this isn’t okay!” I insist, straightening my spine and looking at him in desperation. Ellie is one of Harry’s newfound best friends, and my coworker.
“What has she supposedly done now?” Harry asks, shutting off the TV and gathering his nighttime snacks up on the coffee table.