In any other situation, on any other day, Natalia would've been asleep by the time her phone rang at four in the morning; and Harry would've obeyed his friends. But that's just not how the world works in fates hands. So when Harry sat with his phone in his hand, at the back of the bar, at approximately three fifty-nine in the morning, Natalia had woken up due to the loud crashes of thunder outside her window.
"Thank you, God," Natalie spoke into the darkness in a sardonic tone, raising her arms as she fell back onto the headboard of her bed. "Because I so don't have work tomorrow." She inhaled angrily. "It's a good thing you don't exist, or I'd have a word with y-" The brunette was cut off the loud buzzing of her phone, it startled her but you would never know, she remained calm, and unbothered by the noise, until she began over thinking, as per usual.
It felt straight out of a horror film, but nevertheless, she picked up her phone and hit answer, pressing the device to her ear. "Hello?" She uttered, but all she could hear was heavy breathing and faint sniffles before the other voice finally spoke. "I'm so sorry." The man on the other end cried, and Natalie immediately became worried.
Brooke scoffed, "Okay, is this some kind of prank call? Because it's not funny. Especially at this ungodly hour." She spat. "Is uh- Elaine?" The British man rapidly let out, but it was obvious he was having a very hard time speaking, as he was obviously drunk and this was obviously not a prank call, and as mean as Natalia was, or everyone thought she was at least; she couldn't help but feel bad for the man. He sounded miserable.
"No, just Natalia." She told him, mentally slapping herself after for revealing her identity to a complete stranger who could just so happen to be a serial killer, but then again, it's not like Brooke valued her life much anyway. The two sat in silence for a few seconds before Natalia broke it and said, "Not to butt in or anything, but you sound very uh- disconsolated."
The thick accent on the other end scoffed, causing Natalia's insides to turn before he said. "Let me get this straight. You pretend to be my girlfriend, don't even know my name, its Harry, by the way, and then ask me if I'm...The hell does that even mean?" He asked. "Disconsolated." He mocked.
Every bone in Natalia's body wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, but all she could do is whisper indignantly. "Okay, first, I didn't pretend to be your girlfriend. And from the sounds of it, she isn't even your girlfriend anymore." She shot at him, gulping shortly after in remorse. "And it means depressed. Are you?"
Harry paused for a few seconds before taking in a sharp breath and speaking through his teeth. "Am I what?" He was appalled by the question, some stranger was asking him. "Depressed," Natalia replied quickly, holding her phone up to her ear with her shoulder as she nervously put the nail of her thumb in her mouth and chewed on it until Harry replied.
Harry, obviously very taken back by this question, exhaled. "No." He said slowly. "Since when does apologizing equal depression?" He asked in a confused voice. "Where'd you learn all of this anyway? You sound like a five-year-old."
Natalia shrugged as if he could see her and the laughed a little, "I'm not, actually." She enlightened him, in an almost sweet voice; but it was only due to her sleepiness, making drunken Harry even more confused, but she just decided to change the subject, with nothing better to do at this time and it didn't look like she was getting sleep anytime soon. "You're British, right? Is Harry short for Harold?"
"Only to my mum." The boy informed her, making it clear as a warning not to call him it. "And why are you asking me questions, and telling me things? I could be a serial killer for all you know, you know." He tried to caution her, but his slurred tone didn't sound in the least bit intimidating. "But I'm not by the way, I'm just some guy that just moved to this stupid ass country, and I got the sodding numbers messed up."
A yawn fell from the petite girl's lips as she giggled softly, it quickly disgusting her, causing her to clear her throat before responding. "That's exactly what I was thinking before I found out that you're just little old Harold. Where are you anyway? You sound drunk, and it's really noisy."
Harry stiffened at his name, but relaxed soon enough, as he started walking across the street, cars honking at him as he made his way home. Even though it was only across the street, this was a challenge for an intoxicated person. "I was at a bar, and I'm walking home now." He told her. "Tired?" He asked.
She nodded her head yes at the same time she spoke it before continuing to say, "But I won't hang up until you're home." Before realizing how oddly normal that sounded, and if Brooke hated anything, it was normalization. "Not that I care, I'm just not a monster."
"I am." He shot back, as his keys jingled out of his pocket, before he jammed one of them into the lock on his door sloppily, pushing the door open and immediately throwing himself onto the couch.
"I heard a sigh of relief." She noted, as her eyes closed sleepily, humming to herself. "Safe?"
"Yeah."
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AUTHORS NOTE
This was a really cliché plot but the story itself will be far from it, so stick around and I'll blow your mind or whatever people do when they depress you. Remember to vote and comment, especially if you made it this far. CH 2 will be way better, now that the introduction is out of the way.
- Jason
