Quit (Narry/Heleanor)

[1] Margarita mind.

"It's all messy: the hair, the bed, the words, the heart. Life."- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

2012

"Shut up", she gaspes, her full, red lips moving in such a hypnotizing way, making Harry's knees wobble, like the ground is slipping away.

He places his pint on the sticky counter with a trembling hand, but not without demanding for another one. He needed to get proper pissed tonight, with him being quiete the lightweight, achieving that is not sisiphus' work .It's his first time in months back in England, London particurarly.Even though he calls Los Angeles his home, it can never beat the feeling of London. Yeah, he missed getting soaked because of the bleeding rain pouring down 24/7. Especially in winter.

His hair is still damp, forming ringlets and reminding him, he needs to stop starring at his mate's girlfriend.

"Look at that bird over there, Harry."

The sudden loud voice of Louis makes him jump a little bit, his knuckles hurting from gripping on the leather seat of his barchair.

"Nah Louis", he lalls and doesn't even bother to look at the blonde girl. Harry knows she's blonde, with a handful of boobs probably because Louis' always picking that kind for him. He does like to bring home that kind.

"Why not? She's smokin' and you look like you need some pussy. Doesn't he, babes?"

Louis tends to talk shit, doesn't matter if drunk or sober, but he shifts a bit so he can take a look at the girl. Blonde hair, freckles and a proper tight dress.

God.

Well, maybe the bird at the award show wasn't enough.She slept in the rain, just so she could see her favourite band perform, or just to see Harry perform. Harry fucked her nicely for about three times, she even rode him moaning his name in a very thrilling way, her accent was a bonus.

"Huh?", Eleanor mutters, popping her pink straw out of her mouth and eyeing Harry and Louis. For Harry, Eleanor is extra pretty tonight, he decides. Her soft waves are falling down her shoulder in a efforrtless way, her long legs are cladded in striped jeans, reminding him of his own pair he left in L.A. Her full lips are painted red and Harry just wants to kiss and bite them all night long.

"Whatever. I need to wee", Louis calls, smooches a kiss at his girlfriend's cheek and walks through the crowd , to the rotten toilets of the club. He left his beer bottle next to Eleanor's ellbow and Harry takes it, just to have a pathetic excuse to let his hand trail down her arm for a bit. He then takes a sip and lets his gaze linger on the blonde girl again.

Harry isn't sure how long exactly he's been doing that, for when he takes a quick gulp of the beer, the blonde girl's out of his view.

"Oi Harry"

"Hi El", he shifts around on his seat and leans into her space. Not a word could describe the sensation his heart, his mind, his body feels when she adresses him. He adores the lilt her voice adapts when she's tipsy. Carefree. Beautiful.

Harry'd love to fuck her well and hard in the sheets of her and Louis' bed.

Harry washes the thought down with his new pint, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand afterwards. Where's Louis' beer?

"How's it going", he stops to clear his throat, " how's it going with the, er, fashion thing?"

There's no day he wastes not thinking about her and Louis having a fight and parting ways.

So egoistic.

Eleanor circles her Margarita glass, as if to hear the ice cubes clirring against each other. There's barely any space between them left and Harry enjoys it, loving how he can smell the faintest scent of her sweet perfume, mixed with sweat.