PART 3 OF 4-PART UPDATE

Aven Brooks

The bathwater is cold—I think I've been in here too long.

Resting my cheek on my knee, I sit in the middle of the tub with an empty chest and a busy mind. It's been well over a week since everything happened, and I've had to pretend to be normal despite it all. It's not that I've not wanted to be normal; I'm trying my best. I don't want to feel the pain on repeat. I don't want to lay awake at night in regret. I want to carry on.

"Mariana, you need to get going." I hear Zayn on the other side of the bathroom door. I keep my knees curled to my chest, staring at the rim of the tub.

Zayn burned the pictures that night like he said he would, and we haven't spoken about it since.

"Mariana!" I hear him holler again.

The door opens.

"Would it kill you to answer so I know you haven't drowned?" Zayn stands with his hands on his hips.

"I'm getting out soon."

"You have an hour to get ready, and I know the makeup takes a while. We need to be in Manhatten for eleven."

I turn and reach for the drink on the ledge of the tub, taking a swig of the chilled liquor.

He walks up and turns the knob of the spout so the drain opens, pacing away.

"One hour." He shuts the door in exit.

Harry Styles

"Rise and shine..."

I feather my eyes open, light invading my pupils before they get to adjust. Blurry vision, I blink a few times until focusing on an angelic face above mine.

Noses almost touching and a weight on my hips, I adapt my sight up at the beautiful view of a woman straddling my hips and smiling at me. Her ocean-blue eyes are hard to draw away from in this radiant sunlight.

Aven.

I smile to myself and shut my eyes again, my hands grabbing her hips with a circle of my thumbs.

"What time is it?" I hum.

"Nine."

I open my eyes to realize how much warm light has leaked in from the right wall of windows overlooking the ocean. The volumes of rippling tides crash the sandy shoreline, bringing me to peace. The sun basks over the horizon on this perfect luminous day.

I feel so warm.

"Nine is early," I rasp.

"But I'm bored. Entertain me..." She runs her hands up my bare chest.

I smile to myself and stare down the length of her body. She's wearing nothing but a white lace bra and matching panties.

"And how would I do that?" I stare up at her straddling my hips. Her hands continue up and down my smooth chest.

She doesn't answer, but her eyes hold a world of mischief as she bends forward and meets my lips. I shut my eyes and smile from the contact, gripping her sides. She kisses me unhurriedly, savouring the moment.

When she draws back, I open my eyes again with a smile I can't rid. I blush at her with my head on the feather pillows. She gleams at me with the same tender grin.

"Something like that?" She whispers.

I gaze in silence, taking in her grace. The pink of her cheeks contrasts so angelically with her eyes. Those cherry-pink lips are carved by the heavens. I can kiss them all day.

"I love you so much," I whisper in awe.

She grins, biting her lip. Her blonde hair is all ruffled from her sleep, some strands resting in her eyes. She's effortlessly flawless. She falls back over me, her gaze going heavy as she meets me for another kiss. I lace my hands up her hips, feeling every curve of her body.

"I love you too..." She whispers against my lips before moving down my neck.

My eyes feather shut, digging my head deeper into the pillow with bliss. My veins spark with ecstasy, my mind scorching with passion. As I feel her sit up on my hips again, I open my eyes to catch another glimpse of her.

But as her face was contorted with rage and her hands were gripping a dagger, the bliss shattered into terror.

"Av!""

She slams the blade down in my chest.

Launching up straight, I choke on the little air in my lungs. Gasping for oxygen, grabbing my throat—I stare at the far concrete wall of my dark bedroom. Sweat consumes me as I try to calm down, rubbing my chest. I cough until my mind tells me it was just a dream, calming me down to the point I'm left with nothing but a pounding headache. My head falls in my hands, the sheets of my bed sporadically tangled at my ankles. I fall back flat on the sweat-soaked mattress, tossing my arm over my eyes.

After collecting what sanity I had, I blindly reached down to the floor for the neck of the whisky bottle, forgetting I no longer had it. I groan to myself, sitting up and putting my feet on the concrete floor. I rub my eyes and sit up, grabbing a cigarette off my nightstand and lighting it between my lips. I slowly start putting on clothes and walk out into the empty living room.

It's 2 a.m.

No one's here.

Perfect.

I search around the place for any form of alcohol—but after thirty seconds, I clue in Niall probably hid it all from the apartment after finding what I had taken a few nights ago. Great.

Instead of giving up and going back to bed, I find myself leaving the place for the first time in over a week. I nearly forgot what fresh air felt like. Like a target—I stroll across the street to Dez's bar with no concern about what catastrophe I could begin by showing my face there with the intent to drink. In a blink, I'm sitting on one of the barstools. I know the guys have to be off doing their thing by this time; I don't see any of them around.

Dez walks by, stopping when she notices me sitting at the counter. A slight surprise catches her face.

"Harry..." She begins. "You're out of the house. How are you doing? I've been so worried..."

I hum with a nod; my sleeves balled over my hands.

"The others are in the back room if you want to—"

"I'm just here for a drink," I mumble.

"Sprite?" Dez goes to grab a glass.

"A drink," I repeat.

She laughs. "Yeah, right."

I stare in silence, making her smile fade.

"You're not serious."

I nod.

Her face twists with concern.

"I don't want to do that, Harry..."

Frustration boils through me. I don't need this on top of everything else.

"It's my choice."

"But you've been sober since I've known—"

"I'm guessing Niall didn't tell you?" I tilt my head, smiling.

She stares with confusion, blinking with a headshake of denial.

"I'm not serving you."

"You're a bartender. Isn't it your job to give people drinks?"

She clenches her jaw.

"And it's my bar. I can deny service to whoever I want. You want a drink? There are twenty other bars up this street, but you won't be drinking at this one." She throws her rag on the counter and storms away.

I watch her leave the counter and go to the back room, probably to tell on me. I guess part of me is shocked Niall hasn't spilled yet. Maybe he's happy I've given in. He's made it apparent for months how much fun I used to be before sobriety.

In one quick attempt, I reach over and snatch whatever bottle is closest, tucking it down by my side and b-lining to the bathroom. Busting through the door and locking it behind me, I waterfall the liquor down my throat and feel the burn in my chest. Although it tastes awful, I can't get enough. It feels like a breath of fresh air in the most twisted way. I don't feel guilt or remorse when I do it—it just feels easy. It feels like the only easy experience I've had in months.

Multiple bangs on the door ruin my harmony.

"Harry, we know you're in there!" I hear Liam.

Thanks, Dez.

I roll my eyes and quickly hide the bottle in one of the stalls. Once it's secure, I go and unlock the door.

Not just Liam, but every fucking person I seem to live with is on the other side. I could barely count the heads before a fist came barreling against my nose. The alcohol makes me hit the ground a lot quicker than my pride would appreciate. Before I know it, the room is spinning, and I'm being met with Liam's angry fists pulling me back up by the collar. He slams me into the wall, blood filling my mouth.

"You're drinking again!" He screams.

"Liam!" Someone shouts behind him.

I can't help but laugh, tasting pennies on my tongue.

"You think you can knock me on my ass like that if I was sober?" I grin.

His eyes darken as he throws me to the ground.

"Liam, enough!" I hear someone yell before people come to my aid. I can't stop laughing; I don't really know why. But for some reason, my brain thought this was hilarious.

My blurry eyes focus on Nova kneeling before me, concern all over her face.

"Do you think he deserves this right now!" She turns back and shouts.

"He's ruining everything he worked for!" Liam screams.

I sit up against the wall.

"He's hurting!"

"Yeah, Liam. I'm hurting." I grin through the blood on my teeth.

He doesn't take my mockery well, but Niall and Louis stop him from coming at me again.

"Hey hey—" Niall tries to reason. "At least let him sober up before you kick his ass. I've been meaning to tell you this."

"You knew he relapsed!"

"Yes, but I didn't want you to freak. Which you are." He reasons. "We knew this was going to happen at some point—"

"Some point? He's made it ten months!"

"Harry," Dez kneels next to Nova. "We're your friends, and we want to help you. I promise you'll regret going down this path."

I laugh, grabbing cigarettes out of my pocket and putting one between my lips.

"Friends? Do you know how nauseating it's been to be around you all for months? To sit on that fucking stool and watch you all get hammered every day? Niall prodding me to have a drink? You handing me a shot of fucking water every time there's a cheers? As if anyone here has anything to fucking celebrate in their shitty little lives?"

"You're drunk," Louis says.

"Have you let your girlfriend know what you've been up to these last few months, Louis?" I light the cigarette. "Drinking to the point you're sleeping in the street and fucking any girl giving you a bit of attention?"

Nova turns her head back to Louis, his eyes ridding with guilt.

"You're such a dick..." Scarlett shakes her head.

"I don't remember asking any of you to come in here with me?" I smoke.

"I have to go; I'm going to give him brain damage if I keep listening to this shit..." Liam paces out of the room, all of them following.

All except for one.

Nova stays kneeling before me, gaping with a haze of concern.

"Little Miss Wednesday, always a saint..." I chuckle through the cigarette staining with the blood running down my nose. "I suggest you go with them."

"Don't do this to yourself."

"It seems you've got your problems to worry about, sweetheart," I smile. "I'll be fine."

She stares before slowly standing up, taking the hint and leaving the bathroom so I'm alone again. I blow smoke and muster myself back on my feet, catching a glimpse of my bloody face in the mirror. I wipe my nose with my sleeve, staggering over to the bottle of whiskey I hid. Taking another heavy swig, I sneak out of the bathroom and duck through the side exit.

I guess I'll be drinking alone.

//