The song for this chapter is Call Me Devil - Friends in Tokyo.
*TRIGGER WARNING: this chapter contains heavy themes of violence, death, drug & alcohol use. If any of this upsets or triggers you then please don't read on & stay safe.*
Harry
I couldn't comprehend, nor could I fathom, the fact there was absolutely no complexities surrounding what happened in that fucking lot; I was the reason that he fired the bullet.
I was the reason that you were laid there in that hospital bed.
I was the reason that you could have died.
I couldn't look at you in that state and just sit there and pretend that everything was fine, I knew that my boys would have stayed loyal to the cause and make sure nothing further could have gone wrong.
My mind was spiralling, my body was failing me as I sat in the same dimly lit red club where it all began.
I thought that we were bulletproof, Celeste.
I thought it would all play out as planned.
It all went too far.
I would apologise but it's futile.
I've already condemned myself, angel.
I'm so much more than a sinner.
I'm the Devil, himself.
You?
A combination of God and the Devil swirls and mixes inside of you to the point where you're bursting with heaven and leaking out hellfire.
You're deadly.
You're everything I need to repent.
"For fuck sake, Harry. Are you even listening to a word that I'm fucking saying?"
Niall's shrill voice pierced through my ears as I sat swirling the whiskey around in my glass; my gaze was fixed on anything apart from him. The intoxication was overpowering my senses, it was doing everything I fucking needed it to in order to remove any traces of the last several hours from my mind. I refused to move my gaze from the bustling bodies that were intoxicatingly moving their bodies to the beat of the rock song that was booming through the speakers. I raised the glass to my lips and took a long swig before slamming the glass on the table.
"I can hear exactly what you're fucking saying, Niall. I've heard everything that you've fucking thrown at me in the last thirty minutes that you've been sat on this fucking leather couch. I fucking heard you."
The words came out laced with anger, distress and pure pain; my hands were trembling with pure rage as I let out a shaky exhale and ran my fingers through my sweaty curls. The cocaine that was spreading through my veins from my trip to the bathroom stalls prior to Niall arriving was a pathetic reminder that I wasn't strong enough to tackle this whole situation head-on and without drugs. Whenever it came to Celeste, my heart claimed the power over my brain and sent me deep into a dark spiral of intoxication and drug binges. Niall knew all of this, of course, hence why he was being so fucking persistent over trying to get me to get out of whatever the fuck I'd found myself in.
