second chances {l.s.}

the party.

trigger warning: alcohol 

emetophobia warning

The week went by faster than expected. Before Harry knew it, it was Friday. He'd been talking to Niall quite a bit and they'd gotten pretty close. It was nice to have a friend already. As for things with Louis, they'd yet to have another conversation since that Monday whenever they'd introduced themselves. With that being said, Harry had already felt heartbreak whenever he'd found out that Louis had a boyfriend. It had felt like all of his dreams being crushed at once. He'd seen them out in the hallways on Tuesday on his way to class. Part of him was having to remind himself that he'd only just met Louis, there was no reason for him to be so upset. But the other part of him felt almost betrayed.

He was sat in his last class that day, his mind still locked in on those blue eyes, as much as he tried to forget them. There was just something about Louis that kept bringing him right back to the front of Harry's mind. Harry wasn't really sure if he was complaining, though. Those eyes and that face were something special. He could think about them all the time. He was taken out of his thoughts, though, by a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see Niall, giving the boy a soft smile.

"There's a party tonight, are you going?" Party. A party? Did Harry seem like the partying type to him?

Harry had grown up rather innocent. He was a junior then and he'd never even been with a boy. Never kissed anyone. Never been on a date, let alone been to a party. He wondered if it was anything like the movies. Sweaty bodies dancing in some kid's living room, drinks in hand that somehow never spill despite their movements, a cloud of smoke out in the backyard coming from a circle of teenagers who probably learned how to roll up from YouTube. Maybe it couldn't be all that bad. It was something to do, at least. Probably a lot better than sitting on his balcony and watching the rain come down.

"Hadn't heard anything about it." He was being honest.

"I'll pick you up at 8, curls."

Niall had taken a liking to coming up with different nicknames for Harry and so far, "curls" was probably his least favorite. He had to resist the urge to roll his eyes, instead just giving a nod. It couldn't be all that bad, right?

--

The worst part of it all, it seemed, was figuring out what in the hell he was going to wear. What did people even wear to parties? Did he want to stand out, maybe try and catch Louis' attention? That was if the boy wasn't too busy sucking face with his boyfriend. Or did he want to hide? Grabbing a drink and hiding off in the corner sounded like a perfect plan.

Oh god. Harry had never drank before. Not even a sip. How would he act whenever he was drunk? He figured it would all be fine as long as he didn't fuck up and say anything stupid. He would just have to keep his mouth shut.

It took him a while to figure out his outfit, after throwing what seemed like every article of clothing he had out on the floor or onto the floor. He eventually settled on a pair of jeans and a button up shirt. The shirt was nice enough to where he figured he would fit in either way, if people were dressed casually or properly dressed up. He hoped he'd fit in either way, at least. By the time he'd found out what he was wearing, his curls had dried from the shower he'd taken. He stepped into his bathroom, running his fingers through them before he was checking the time. A quarter til eight. Fuck. His nerves were already starting to get the best of him. He checked himself out in the mirror one last time, brushing his teeth before heading back to his room. He slipped on a pair of converse and then he was making his way downstairs.

Anne was in the living room, looking up at him as he came down. She was watching some soap opera, as always. The main couple had broken up and gotten back together a million times. Harry thought it was stupid, honestly. He couldn't ever see himself being stupid enough to go back to someone who just consistently hurt him.