The Train - Part Two
Pairing: Y/N and Harry
Word Count: 4100
Prompt: Y/N walks in, and Harry notices she’s wearing yellow again, this time it’s a yellow sweater with a pair of dark skinny jeans and brown ankle boots, her hair is pulled back into a pony tail with a white scrunchie with little smiling suns and he swears that he has to squint to look at her. “Oh! I know you-you’re the guy from the train,” Y/N beams, “Harry, right?” she sets down the tray of muffins.
“I didn’t tell you my name,” Harry snaps.
Y/N pouts, “well yeah, but I’m also not stupid,” she says.
“Are you joining us today Harry?” the man asked, “I’m Seth, I run the group.”
“Why else would I fucking be here,” Harry grumbled.
Y/N grabs a muffin, ignoring Harry’s sour attitude, “here, they’re made with love,” she smiled, holding out the blueberry muffin.
“Fuck off,” Harry says. He watches as her smile fades and the glint in her eyes seems to disappear, for a split second Harry feels like a dick, but then he realizes he doesn’t care and Y/N should just shove the muffin up her ass.
Harry felt empty.
Drinking seemed pointless and as did life. He found himself wishing he could be a part of crowds, go out and enjoy life, but he couldn’t. Every time he did force himself to go out he was counting down the seconds till he could be back in his own space. He felt as if her were drowning, as if he were sinking and everyone just happened to swim right by him. He felt like he was screaming for help, for someone, for anyone to just hold him, to just lay with him, but no one listened.
He had disconnected from everyone completely, shutting off his phone, not checking his emails, or even going on social media. The only time he left his house where for the meetings, anytime Seth could fit him in, and train rides. Each and every time he hoped Y/N would be there, but after three meetings he had given up.
Harry hadn’t showered in three days and he looked like it. He wondered if he smelled but he really didn’t care. He had no one to impress and at this point anything he did felt like a ten-mile race. He almost didn’t show up for group therapy because that meant getting out of bed and facing the reality that is life. The world that tells him what he’s feeling is all in his head and he needs to get over it and write more music. The world that tells him it’s okay to have a fever or break his leg, but the moment he feels alone and numb he needs to get over it. The world that wants Harry Styles but not Harry Styles.