You'll be okay.

The words rang loudly in his head as the first gulp from the bottle trickled down his throat. The bitter taste felt like heaven on his tongue after months of not even letting a drop hit his tongue. He missed it; the euphoria, the exhilaration this little bottle of nothing brought.

And he wished he didn't, he wished he hadn't missed this feeling as much as he did. But he did, so much that his heart aches and stomach churned just thinking about how happy these things meant to him. He had gone back to his old ways of self-destruction, he hadn't gone back to his old self fully, but he himself couldn't deny that he was going there.

You'll be okay.

The voice rang again somewhat dimmer and uncertain than the first time. The hope was deteriorating.

And so was he.

The night was darker than usual, or to him it felt like that. He was cold and his bed was empty. The hallway had been quiet as he had made his way towards his old fellow, and the feeling had courses through his veins faster than his blood.

He was alone. As he brought the opening of Jack Daniels, his very old and only pal, he knew he'd be okay.

☆

"He's drunk," A hushed whisper followed by a quiet hiss was what that had woken him the next morning. He wanted to throw the pillow he'd been lying on at the intruder or intruders but it felt like his limbs had been nailed to the floor and his head felt like he had banged his head several times on the wall. His throat felt scratchy and dry, like he'd spent majority of his time screaming.

Maybe he did.

"No he's not. What makes you say that?" Another voice followed the first one, confirming it had indeed been intruders who had ruined his peace.

"His state," the first voice whispered back. Whoever they were, they weren't subtle about their voices. "He looks like someone robbed him off his dignity along with everything he had."

A thwack followed the harsh words spoken by the first voice, along with a few curses and a you know it's true. "I'm gonna wake him up."

Someone shook him continuously, making him to force his eyes open in the harsh light. "Harry?"

The voice whispered. Harry struggled to open his eyes, finally able to do so after the said person stood in front of the light that was piercing his eyes.

"Good morning," he yawned, seeing Des and her husband standing in front of him.

"It's 2 pm, Styles," Matt chuckled, making Harry frown as he looked at his surroundings through the dull ache in his head. Sure enough, the clock above him read two, making him realize that he had fallen asleep on the couch in the living room. The events leading to the condition were still hazy.

"Harry," Des' concerned voice broke his thoughts and he looked up to see her eyeing the bottles of Jack Daniels by the table. "Have you been drinking?"

He sighed, hating the way this whole thing had turned out. Des was looking at him worriedly. Affection for her pooled in his stomach. Desiree was a sister he never had and for her, he was her brother. That's why he believed she deserved none of the shit he was pulling her through.

"I have been. Yeah, a little."

"Dude," Matt's voice made him turn towards him angrily, "That's not a little."

Matt was concerned too, he got that. After what had went down, Harry had stood by Des just like she had with him. Matt respected that, but he respected Harry more for not abandoning her. And it was the respect he was showing that ticked Harry off. It wasn't like Harry didn't like Matt. He did like him a lot. But the kid was over smart, like his sister. Plus, he reminded Harry of how he himself used to be. And Harry didn't like that reminder.

"Whatever," Harry grunted, turning towards Des. "Not to be rude or anything but what are you two doing here?"

Des was still frowning at him, and his changing conversation skills weren't helping at all. Sadness was written all over her eyes, but knowing that Matt was in the room too, she went along with it. Just for his sake. It was Matt who answered.

"Seeing you fled from the party we threw, Des proposed something."

Harry groaned. As much as he loved free liquor, he didn't like the idea of being clamped up among people he didn't know. Call it his fear of closed spaces or something, he didn't fancy the idea of people getting too close to his personal space. He liked living in his own bubble. Some people needed to get that settled in their brains. Stapled, if you might.

And no, we aren't talking about a certain brown hair, brown-eyed girl who he likes teasing and can't stop thinking about.

"And what would that be?" He groaned, already hating the thought of him ever giving Des a spare key to his house. His head was killing him to the point of no return, and any minute he was ready to strangle either of those two.

"We're having a dinner," Matt announced. That would be easy, he thought idly. He lied back on the couch, trying to get comfortable and put his throbbing head at ease. He hummed silently and closed his eyes. That way, he knew he could easily bail out. But that's not where the problem laid, you see. For the next words Matt uttered made him wish he had killed him on the first day they both met. Now that's a story for another day.

"And you're hosting it."

He shot up, not expecting the words. With wide eyes he looked at Des, who nodded solemnly.

"I've already told our guest," Des continued from where Matt had left off. "Consider it a penalty of sorts. Besides, you'll get to show you're amazing cooking skills."

"Wait, what?!" He spluttered, "Guest? Who is coming?"

"You, me, Matt and Jane, of course."

Of course. How could he have forgotten the main reason behind his suffering nowadays? Cursing at the way his heart thudded at the mention of her name, he spoke. "You know I don't have time for this. With my boss breathing down my neck-"

"You sure had time for this, buddy." Matt gestured to the empty bottles lying at his feet.

"You can take time for this dinner too."

Matt smirked, and it was the way his brown eyes sparkled that made Harry give up.

☆

Dragging a trolley down an isle had never been so dreadful, especially now that Harry was hungover more than anything. He took slow steps; anything to delay the dinner. He was grocery shopping, and in the meantime thinking of what to cook.

It was raining, something that only darkened his mood the more he thought about the pending dinner. He would now and then grumble at the people who took too much or too little time, he would curse at them for blocking his way only to have nasty glares being thrown his way.

He remembered the first time he had attempted to make dinner. He was almost fifteen at that time, and his mother was stressed to the point of no return. In attempts of making his mother a nice, warm dinner, he had almost given her a cardiac arrest and was on the crisp of burning down the entire kitchen had his mother not arrived.

Picture this: an unconscious boy on the floor as his head had smacked harshly on the floor, tomato paste smeared all over his white shirt and a knife, though clean, lying nearby. Now that's not any sight for a mother to see when she comes home.

His mother had been frantic when he woke up, and it had taken him hours to calm her down. His heart ached at the memory. He knew he needed to call her.

"Nice to see you here."

A familiar soft voice made him look up from the bottle of honey he was observing. It was just his day, for there stood the lovely Jane, the sole reason why he was going through all of this.

Something about this girl didn't sit well with him, not the bad kind. Maybe that's why he enjoyed teasing her, just to have some of the control back that she was slowly taking away from him. There was something about her, in her personality in particular and the way she was in general that set him off. Whatever that was, he couldn't put his finger on it.

"I wish I could say the same."

He grumbled, his sour mood taking away any manners he had, not that he would ever show them in front of her. Her soft giggles only irked him more as he turned towards her. The sparkle in her brown eyes reminded him of the one in Matt's, a hopeful glint that had been.

"What, are you following me now, too? Won't be surprising."

That seemed to shut her up as she scrutinised him with her gaze, "I work here, Styles."

He raised his eyebrows, "You do?"

"Yes. The bills don't pay for themselves."

He couldn't help but roll his eyes, sarcastically smiling at her. "I thought they did."

Huffing, she turned away from him, "Keep rolling your eyes, Styles. You might find a brain there."

Harry laughed, some of the tension releasing from his shoulders. They sagged with relief and a happy glint took over in his eyes.

He got checked out, and ran to his car. But as he started it, the engine made a weird sound, before shutting down completely. He turned the key in the ignition once again. This time, the sound wasn't even made.

"Son of a...." The insult died in his throat when he saw Jane walking out of the store, her short hair sticking to her face as rain pelted down.

He had two options: he could either walk half an hour in rain or ask Jane for a ride and bear with her some more. The first option was more appealing, but he didn't fancy the idea of getting drenched and having the possibility of catching cold.

"Jane!" He regretted it as soon as she turned around, a devious smirk playing on her lips that he could see from afar.

"Why, finally getting my name right, Styles? Surprising."

Still yelling, he replied, "My car broke down. I need a ride home."

Jane was fully drenched now. Pushing the hair that had darkened behind her ear, she replied.

"And what do I get out of this? Besides wetting my car?"

Harry groaned, "Anything you want. Now, please!"

She smirked.

☆

The car ride was awkward as hell, with nothing, not even the sound from radio between them. Harry kept fidgeting in his seat, blaming it on the wet clothes sticking to his body of his uncomfortableness. And not to mention the traffic had been so much that it had become impossible for Jane to drop him off at his home.

It had been thirty minutes and they hadn't moved an inch when Jane suggested that they should go to her home, since it was much closer.

Of course it hadn't gone down without a fight. Harry had argued that she had promised him to drop him off at his home, not take him elsewhere, to which Jane had replied that it was her car and she would do as she wished. In the end, Harry had complied, since she was doing him a favour.

And now, here was Harry, standing somewhat awkwardly in the living room as Jane fetched him some clothes of Matt, as she has made him carry not only his groceries back to her apartment, but hers as well. For that, he had to make two trips to the car, leaving him drenched from head to toe.

"Here," she handed him a pile of clothes, "go change in to them. Bathroom's the first room down the hallway."

Harry nodded, emptying the contents from the pocket of his jacket on the coffee table and going towards the bathroom. He might have not paid attention to what he left but Jane did.

There was one thing that caught her eyes, a shiny pearl necklace among the things he had left. Slowly she crawled towards it and picked it up, her curiosity aroused to the heights lest point.

She wondered what a thing like that was doing with Harry, but she didn't have time to dwell on it anymore as a voice boomed through the atmosphere.

"What are you doing?!" She knew what that meant; she had been caught going through his things like a creep. She turned around quickly, and saw Harry with the wet clothes in his hand. She didn't miss the way he looked in Matt's clothes that were a size tight for him.

She saw his eyes moving towards the necklace in her hands, her stomach fluttering nervously when he looked up. His eyes, though green, were burning with something unknown to her.

And he didn't look happy at all.

Notes

So here is chapter 5.

Any thoughts? Predictions? Why do you think Harry has that necklace? Who might it belong to??

Thanks for reading, and as always,

Stay blessed.