Harry and Gemma alighted the train at Kings Cross, huddling into their jackets as the cold London air hit them. They had laughed the whole journey down on the train, and Harry felt relieved to be out, to be doing something. His mind was so full of Eilidh constantly, and it was beginning to take every fibre in his being not to turn on his phone to call her.
"Where are we going?", Gemma asked him, hurrying along behind him and cursing his long legs as they exit the station, and Harry hailed a cab.
"War Child Party", he replied. "I got an invite for it ages ago. It might be a bit stuffy, but if it is, we'll just go somewhere else".
He managed to stop a cab and they piled in. He eyed his sister, satisfied that she looked at least vaguely excited to be out, and proud that she looked so pretty. He was really very proud of her, and quite surprised that she had agreed to come out with him.
The cab took them to Mayfair, and Gemma felt suddenly nervous as they approacged the door to the club, watching in disbelief as Harry sauntered forward, shaking hands warmly with the bouncers before pulling Gemma's arm behind him and ushering her in. She sighed, jealous of his confidence.
The walked straight to the bar, where they were handed drinks, free of charge of course, and Gemma rolled her eyes. "Do you actually know anyone here?", she hissed at her brother, who looked around, and shrugged. He took a sip of his sugary brightly coloured cocktail and made a face, turning back to the bar.
"Excuse me", he smiled warmly and sincerely at the barmaid, who jumped, and stared, as if confused that he was addressing her. "Could I maybe get something a bit more manly to drink please? Although I'm sure this is fabulous, a Jack Daniels and Coke might make me feel a little more secure in my sexuality", his eyes were laughing as he spoke, and the barmaid looked as though she may faint. He never stopped smiling at her as she stuttered her agreement, and practically ran to get him his preferred beverage.
Harry turned back to Gemma, who was glaring at him. "What?", he said, confused at her demeanour, taking another drink of the cocktail by accident, and sticking his tongue out in disgust.
"Do you have to do that?", Gemma asked hotly, and Harry looked at her properly, confused.
"What?", he asked dumbly, again.
"That. Be so...over the top charming. So nice to everyone", Gemma practically spat, and Harry raised his eyebrows in mild amusement.
" 'kay, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that this isn't quite about me", he attempted to joke, but Gemma refused to laugh, crossing her arms and looking away. He frowned, not wanting to let his good mood slip, knowing that there was so much bubbling under his surface that if it overflowed, he may drown in it.
Harry nudged Gemma's arm, while she still looked steadfastly away from him. "Gemma", he said, frowning. "Gemmaaaaaa", he whined insistently when she ignored him. "What's up! We were just having a good laugh there".
"I don't belong here", Gemma grumbled, and Harry shook his head.
"You belong wherever you want to be", Harry said seriously, and she looked at him finally. "Gem, if you don't like it down here, then, fuck it, go back home. But don't leave cos your scared".
Gemma gazed up at him. "I just wish I was confident like you", she practically whispered, and Harry nudged her playfully, half spilling her drink and making her gasp.
"And I wish I was brainy like you!", he teased, before sobering. "Seriously, my confidence has brought me nothing but trouble", he said honestly, thinking of his current situation and shaking his head. "Just give it a go, Gem. I'll be here more now I'm off tour and we can totally go and...paint mugs... and throw pots and yoga, yeah we can go to yoga...", Harry cut himself off with his own laughter as Gemma punched him on the arm, her own giggles escaping her lips. "Careful!", he laughed. "We're at a very important party and I'm very important...Rita!"
Harry sat up straight, seeing a familiar blonde turn at the sound of her name, before bounding towards him excitedly. He grinned openly, happy to see his friend.
"Hiiiiii love!", Rita hugged him close, and he rocked her in his arms playfully, while Gemma looked on, awkwardly. "Where the hell have you been!", she punched him playfully in the shoulder. "I only see you in the papers these days! Where is that gorgeous girl you are seeing? I cant believe she isn't a model. What a beauty. Is she here?"
Harry forced a smile. "She's in Glasgow, working", he lied, and Rita nodded before turning to introduce herself to Gemma, and kissing her on both cheeks. Gemma looked mildly alarmed at the friendly pop stars advances, but felt oddly captivated by her, as she chattered incessantly. They got on well, and the three of them stood for ages, having their drinks refilled as if by magic by the barmaid who still gazed adoringly at Harry. Gemma excused herself to go to the toilet and Rita and Harry relived old memories of them the year before when they had partied together in London almost every weekend.They laughed together, real, belly laughs that seemed to banish Harry's dark thoughts. He leaned in to hear her over the deafening noise in the club, completely oblivious to camera phones around him, snapping away.
