(i found - amber run)

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The hangover had finally began to reside by night time, and I could finally lift my head from from the pillow without wanting to cry out in pain. I'd yet to conjure up an excuse to give my parents for staying out all night - let alone an excuse for stumbling home at two this afternoon and throwing up at their feet on their precious white marble floor. I could've sworn Dad laughed - Mom? Not so much.

Not to mention I had yet to wrap my head around the night's events - I called Harry, totally buzzed, and god knows what I'd even said to him. Oh - and let's not forget how the conversation somehow led to him picking me up from the party, taking me back to his place, undressing me, and having to literally drag me from his neck to stop me from trying to go down on him. Note to self - never drink again.

"Miss Levin?" a knock sounded at the door, and I glanced across towards my door way, before returning to my original state - laying on my back, staring at the ceiling.

"Ana," I corrected monotonously, picking at a hangnail on my finger, pretending to focus on a crumbling section of paint on the ceiling, "What is it, Celia?"

"Sorry, I was about to head out for the night and I just-" she sighed, and I could practically hear the look on her face, "Ana, can I sit for a minute?"

"Be my guest," I shrugged, sitting up to look at her now - a look of worry held on her face.

"Bloody hell," she murmured, smoothing out her skirt, "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Shoot," I pulled my covers over my legs, my eyes meeting hers for a mere moment before I saw Harry's gaze in her own, causing me to quickly break the contact.

"Listen, uh - since the holiday is coming up and all, I'm planning to go home - back to Manchester to see my family," she spoke slowly, and I forced a smile.

"That's great, Celia - when were you last home?" I asked curiously.

"Well, that's the thing," she bit her lip, "Haz and I haven't been home since his father started-" her eyes widened, "since his dad and I split," she corrected hastily, and I frowned.

"I don't see the problem.."

"I know you and Harry are very close," she smiled as she mentioned her son, her face softening - I admired that, as little as I wanted to do with Harry right now, "and I also know he won't want to come with me."

"I'm not following.." I trailed off stupidly.

"I'd like you to ask him to come with me next month, Ana," she said blatantly, sending me a short smile, "convince him, even. There's no point in me trying to get through to him, but - you're the first friend he's really had in a while, and I know he'll listen to you-"

"Celia," I sighed, shaking my head, "I'm sorry, I just - I'm not sure it's my place to, right now," I said honestly, regretting it instantly as I watched her face fall.

"Oh, no - of course, darling - I shouldn't have asked.." she bit her lip, looking at her lap for a moment, "though, can I ask what is going on with the two of you?"

"Nothing is going on with the two of us," I said a little too quickly, and she shot me a knowing look.

"Ana, darling - I know you, and I know my boy. I don't know what you did to him but I know it's something good," she smiled, and I bit my lip.

"I didn't do anything to Harry."

"You've brought out the brighter; happier side of my boy - the one I've missed so much. He's so much more himself since you became friends," she sighed contently, and all I did was nod my head, "and I know something has happened between the two of you."

I swallowed, "What?" Please, Celia - if you know I've kissed your son before, please don't mention it.

"I don't know what happened exactly, Ana, but I'm not an idiot." she said, "I know why you've barely talked to me or looked at me since, what? Wednesday morning?" I bit my lip guiltily - she wasn't wrong.

"Everything's fine," I lied, and she shook her head.

"Sweetheart, I don't know what Harry's done - I don't have a clue how he's upset you, and I don't need you to tell me. I just need you to know that he doesn't do things maliciously," Celia reassured me, and I frowned.

"How do you know he's done something?" I questioned, and she chuckled lightly.

"Miss Levin, I love my son to bits, but he's no saint - the furthest from one, actually," she chuckled again, "I know what he's been through, I know you know, too. He never had it easy growing up, Ana."

"I know," I sighed, and she continued.

"Harry makes so many bloody mistakes, and god, he drives me up the wall half the time, but - I know how important you are to him," she reached for my hand, holding it gently, "please don't give up on him just yet."

Please don't give up on him just yet. And in that moment, I wanted more than anything to rush home with Celia, into his room, and into his arms. To hug him, kiss him, tell him he didn't need to be sorry; that I knew he didn't mean what he said, what he did. But I couldn't.

I found myself nodding, "I won't give up on him," I responded, my voice barely a whisper. Celia leant over, kissing my cheek before standing up.

"I'll see you in the morning, Miss Levin," she smiled softly, and then she was gone.

I sank back into my mattress, eyes meeting the ceiling again. Why did Harry have to do what he did? And why did I have to care so much? In a matter of months, I had found myself so incredibly addicted to this boy. Harry was my drug - I was addicted. When he was here, the unparalleled rush drew me in. It was sudden - everything that would ever cause me pain would fade away and it was just him. It was the feeling of delirium; the universe I'd once known to be so bleak seemed to combust with the flame of obscurity - but it didn't scare me. The sneaky, tricky little pest of emotion clouded my mind; my judgement - but I wasn't fearful. I knew it came with inevitable pain, sorrow - heartbreak, yet for him it seemed worth it.

I wasn't sure when I'd realised it - if it was the night I lay beside him on the grass beneath the stars, when his cool fingertips brushed over my skin to move the flyaway strands of hair from my face, or the night I pressed my forehead to his shoulder and danced to the soft beat of the music; he gave me the highest high; a thousand irrational, maddening senses and sensations all at once. He made me brave; he wouldn't let me step foot in my comfort zone. What he gave me was secret, and sly, and shadowy, and dark, and pungent, and light.

The world felt light - all hostility overwritten, disregarded. I was elevated - above all that would make or break me; only him. Only he had the capability to cradle me in his palm or crush me in the same manner.

Harry hurt me, made me go crazy, took away every inch of peace within me. I lost myself somewhere - when you reveal your most vulnerable self to someone and they choose to replace you - it's indescribable. When I saw him, I saw her - them, together - him rocking her into a dirty mattress. The image haunted me, the sinking realisation that in that moment it wasn't me he wanted - he wanted her. That devastation had yet to be justified. I yearned for the demoralising thoughts to fade away; for the reinforcements to be laid in place. I craved closure; acceptance - understanding. Only he could give that to me.

My finger lingered over the call button, shaking apprehensively. Don't press it, Ana.

"Hello?" his voice sounded through the receiver, and my lip began to quiver. Stop being so weak.

"Can you come over?"

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short ):

developed some description(s) though !! x