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8. Never Gonna Cry Again

8. Never Gonna Cry Again

As he watched Harry climb into the car, he had one thing on his mind.

Self-loathing.

He had done it again. He had made a scene, had a tantrum, made a fool of himself.

Harry... no, all of One Direction, would definitely look back on this tour with a bad taste in their mouths, as they remembered the dead weight, emotional rollercoaster of a grown-ass man. He had to get his act together.

He settled into the empty seat next to Harry, mulling all of this over.

You put on a front every night when you perform. The fans have no idea that anything is wrong. If you can do it on stage, you can do it always.

No more crying, you big loser.

So he threw in a perfectly-timed joke in response to something that Kevin had said, and the whole van threw their heads back in laughter.

Much better.

When they arrived in front of the club, he could feel Harry's gaze on him. He shot him a quick smile before climbing out, making sure not to look at him for too long. If he had, the embarrassment of how he had acted in front of him would have overtaken him, rendering him an idiot again.

He smiled as Matt slung an arm around his shoulder, pulling him towards the doors.

This would all be fine.

And a couple of hours later, he had convinced even himself that he was fine. Alcohol had a magical way of doing that. He swayed as he stood up, pulling Kirstin to her feet and insisting that she dance with him.

Dancing became... jumping. And yelling. You know, the perfect white boy movement. He could hear Kirstin laughing over the blaring music. He was glad that he could make her happy. He knew that it had been a while since he had done so.

He felt the presence of someone jumping with equal enthusiasm next to him before the arm draped over his shoulder. He turned in its grasp to find Liam screaming the words to the song along with him.

The song ended, and the trio returned to their couches in their VIP area, trying to catch their breath as they searched for more shots. Liam flopped on the couch beside him, offering the bottle of tequila to him.

They found themselves talking, but looking back, Scott couldn't even remember the topic of discussion. He was simply drunk and calm.

No... not calm... happy.

It's been said that smiling when you're sad eventually cheers you up. Perhaps he had just proven it.

Liam began to invade his personal space as the night went on, but Scott didn't mind, somehow.

And the amount of Instagram stories he had posted was downright comical.

Perhaps they would regret them in the morning, being clearly more than a bit tipsy on social media, but for now, Scott couldn't bring himself to care.

The funniest one definitely involved Liam's lips pressing a big, sloppy kiss on Scott's cheek before a goofy smile spread across his face.

There seemed to be only one thing missing, Scott realized, though part of him was glad that Harry had been keeping his distance tonight.

The man's face was simply a reminder of what a fool he had made of himself, earlier. It was best that he kept his distance. Scott was tired of embarrassing himself in front of him, no matter how kind and understanding Harry appeared to be about it.