In The Depths

Loneliness is like a deep dark void, with nowhere to go and nowhere to hide. As much as I try, I just get deeper into the depths of loneliness, and into the depths of my soul. I just want to get out. I don't deserve this.

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24. One Hundred Percent Idiot

His raspberry lips connect with mine.

Passion is entwined with us, like a force field of love. Harry rolls his tongue into mine with care and lust. I’m pushed against the outside of my door. The wood knocks at my shoulder blades.

Heat.

Sweat.

A bird sings off in the distance.

My eyes close and I see a galaxy of stars. The fabric of time and space warps as Harry kisses me. His lips are decorated with expertise, like kissing is an art skill that he has mastered.

I stand on my toes so he doesn’t have to bend down anymore. He hums into my lips and I smile against his. My heart beats in my fingertips.

“Good boy,” Harry whispers hungrily into my neck. His hands explore the skin under my t-shirt. He traces words into my stomach. Closer, closer.

“Shit, guys. Really?” Will’s voice immediately causes us to draw back. I gasp as the blonde boy makes his way into the outside hall.

Harry fixes his hat on his head and spits, “I thought you were at my house!” His face is a deep tomato red.

“I followed you guys here because I was bored as hell. Also, I decided that being locked in my room is a complete waste of time.” He licks his lip and winks. “You guys can continue if you want.”

“No, you perv,” I joke, although am very embarrassed. We’re in my apartment in a minute.

My home welcomes me in. I’ve been spending countless hours at Harry’s house, away from my own things. I admit, it is a relief to be back in my flat. Harry’s baking and posters are great, but my old sofa and beige walls bring me comfort.

We decide to play video games, after thirty minutes of complaining. Will’s jokes have died down, but his smile is still there. A gleaming, gracious, white smile.

Will’s smile is just a mask. Sure, it looks happy. And, sure, it looks like he’s having the best time of his life when he’s all grins and teeth. But when he looks away, a depressing shadow hugs his features. Pain is trying to get in, and Will is forcefully pushing it away.

The noise of Mario Kart’s intense sound effects echoes around my flat. Harry’s currently winning, with a constant stream of prideful insults flowing from his mouth.

“I can’t believe you got hit by my mushroom! Eat ass, bitches!” His hat gets strewn across the room somewhere, sitting alone on my hardwood floor.

“Oh yeah?” I spit, twisting my controller in a spasmodic way. My car goes racing in front of his. “Suck it!”

There’s surprisingly a lack of sexual jokes from Will, who is staring spacelessly at the screen. His persona on the screen keeps running into the wall and regenerating on loop. A small smile tugs at his lips. Obviously fake.

He puts the controller down on the coffee table and buries his head in his hands. Feathers of blonde locks peek out through his fingers. He takes off his glasses and rubs is temples, sighing.

Harry pauses the game. “You okay, Will?”

Will groans into his hands; a throaty, raspy groan that rings around him. He licks his lips and slowly raises his head up. A small smile spreads across his lips.

“I’m fine.”

He’s staring at nothing in particular, and keeps repeating the phrase: “I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine.”

I glance at Harry, eyebrows furrowed. His eyes catch mine and we hold a stare, full of worry. He nods towards Will, who is pacing around the room. His shoes click against the hardwood floor. A laugh bubbles from his throat.

“Dude,” I stand up and cautiously walk to him. “Are you sure you’re… alright?”

Will puts his glasses back on his face and gives me the biggest, dorkiest smile I’ve ever seen. He laughs again, almost doubling over. His eyes clench up and his nose scrunches and he is practically dying of laughter. I back away, heart racing. “No.”

The single word harmonizes with his psychotic laughter. His blonde hair falls with sweat over his face. “No, no, no, no.”

Harry jumps up from the couch and runs over to Will. The sound of the digital game continues on. “Will, calm down. What the hell is going on?”

Will sits down on the hardwood floor. His nimble hands wrap around his knees, and a steady tempo of rocking back and forth takes him over. His hair is a mess, and his glasses lay in a crooked heap across his face. Oh, and not to mention, the creepy smile is almost blinding. “Happy, happy, happy, happy, happy,” Will hums. “Everything is happy.”

Instincts kick in, and I rush to Will’s side. I remember the antidepressants he’s taken before. Obviously, he’s consumed more than he should have.

Damn pills,” I hiss, digging into his jacket pocket.

“I’m fine!” Will shrieks and lays down, feet splayed out in front of him. I grasp the bottle of pills from his coat and look down.

Two lonely pills, swimming in the bottle.

Only two.

“You stupid-” I stand up, cutting myself off, and run over to Harry. “Idiot fuckbucket over there has taken like a million of these things today.”

Harry says, “Bit of a hyperbole?”

I turn around to face the idiot again, whilst still speaking to Harry. “Sure, whatever. Thing is, Will is acting like a psychopathic six year old.”

“I’m h-happy though,” Will laughs. He looks like he’s making a snow angel. “Happy happy happy.”

“Will,” Harry’s deep voice protrudes. “Stand up. You’re acting like you’re drunk and high at the same time.”

The boy on the floor lets out a high-pitched squeal. “Drunk and high. I think you mean hunk. I’m a hunk.” He rolls onto his side and kicks out with his skinny legs. “Louis, your boyfriend just called me a hunk. Hunk hunk hunk hunk.”

“You fucking-”

Harry’s phone ringtone blasts through his pocket. With a huff, he answers it, with Will’s rambling in the background.

“Hello? What? WHAT? Are you kidding- no. Hang on. Call 999. NOW.”

Will sings an unknown melody, and I start to panic upon Harry’s reaction. He is tugging out fistfuls of his hair and breathing raggedly. I mouth to him: “What’s going on?”

He tells me to shush, and continues talking. “Call 999 and get out of there before you get hurt. PLEASE, JUST…” He looks down at his phone and curses. “This fucking shit hung up!”

“Shit shit shit shit shit shit,” Will sings.

“Harry, what the hell is happening?” I ask, pacing to Harry.

“We have to go. NOW.” Harry opens the door. Us three scramble out (with me dragging Will).

“What’s happening?” I yell.

Harry runs to the bottom of the stairs and unlocks the car. He’s sprinting through the cold air to reach the vehicle, and I’m screaming at him to tell me anything. We get in the car, and it roars to life.

I see grey tears run down Harry’s cheeks, and he mumbles, “Fransico... he’s stuck in his house. His… his house is on fire and he’s stuck and he is having trouble getting out. We have to help him, guys.” He starts the car and the tears fall more frequently. “He called 999, but the doors are blocked and if he jumps out of the top story, he may potentially-”

“STOP,” Will spits from the backseat. The car races through the streets, a black blur against the grey atmosphere. “The firemen will save him. Don’t.”

I choke out a pained, worried gasp: “Don’t what?”

“Worry.”

And all through the car ride, one word echoes from the boy in the backseat. “Worry worry worry worry worry.”

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