Harry Styles Imagines Book Two

Frustrated

I can't handle school anymore, it's too hard. I have a project due in two weeks that I'm struggling to start, I have a test next week and two the week after that, then I'm graduating. Plus my glasses are bothering me, I think the prescription might be wrong, which is super irritating because I just got them. I feel like I have so much shit to do and no fucking time.

Letting out a frustrated groan, I slam the door of my car and begin walking up to the house. The familiar knot of tears is twisting in my stomach and throat. My face feels hot and red and my eyes are starting to sting. I open the door of the house and step in, slamming it shut behind me.

In a fury of tears and aggression, I throw my backpack into the living room, almost knocking a lamp off the table, then rip off my heels and throw them at the wall. Much to my surprise and annoyance, one heel sticks right into the wall and I groan. Harry's going to kill me when he sees this.

Tears start streaming down my face and I stomp up the stairs, ripping my clothes off of me in the process. They lay strewn about the stairs and hallway, but I go straight to my room and pull on some sweats and a t-shirt.

Next I go downstairs and grab some grapes and crackers and my homework from my backpack, then go to the study. I sit at the desk with my laptop in front of me and homework surrounding me, then work myself into oblivion.

I don't exist here. It's just cold and dark and fury and exhaustion and lost dreams. I want to give up; just dig a hole and die in it.

I pick up on the sound of the front door opening and closing, but I don't register it until about 45 minutes later when I smell Harry's famous pasta. He loves making pasta. Huffing and rolling my eyes, I ignore the growling of my stomach and focus on trying to finish this paper.

After this, I just have to start on that project, though I have no idea what I'm doing, study for three tests and somehow pass my online Geography class. How I'm failing that one, I have no idea. Its so easy, but here I sit with an F.

If I can get a D I'll pass. Maybe I should start working on that. No Y/N! Focus on the fucking shit you're doing now and then work on that! There isn't enough time! I have to do everything at once or it will never get done! And I swear to God if I fail one more class, I will end it and go live under a bridge or someone's stairs.

A gentle knock sounds on the door and I realize I've been staring at the same sentence for 10 minutes and almost pull my hair out. I hate this so much.

"Hi baby," Harry peeks his head in, then steps into the room. "I brought you some supper."

"Thanks," I grunt, not looking up from my essay.

He sets the plate on the only empty part of the desk and lingers, which irritates me for no reason. "How are you love?"

"I'm fine Harry," I snap, not missing how he flinches when I say his name.

"Can I help you with anything?" He asks in that same soft sweet voice that will be the death of me.

"Not unless you have a time machine," I grumble, reading the same sentence again.

"Oh baby," he coos and walks further into the room. I guess my cold and hostile attitude means just walk in and bother me. "You're being too hard on yourself."

"Harry, I have two fucking weeks to finish everything or I fail, again," I remind him in a strong voice.

"You are absolutely brilliant and capable of doing this," he places his hands on my shoulders and starts massaging.

"Harry, please stop," I ask in a shaky breath, my walls crumbling with every move he makes.

"Please stop calling me that," he mumbles against the top if my head as he kisses me.