Drarry Oneshots 👍

Heartbreak Haven

Harry was big fan of a popular band, named Heartbreak Haven. He would never admit it though, as most of their fan base was consisted of groups of gushing women, all dedicated and in love with the entire band. Harry had an embarrassingly big crush on the lead guitarist, who would also take a stab at a solo every now and again. He was great at it. Gorgeous, someone would whisper during his time on stage, and Harry would quietly agree. There wasn't much known about him, and that, naturally, made him an easy favourite, with his windswept blond hair, stormy blue eyes, and pale - almost ghostly - skin.

There were other members of the band, of course, but they were more well known. Damien, Finn, Halo, and Mitch, were all there, counting the rest. Damien was the resident redhead with anger issues, and had no problem expressing himself when it came to controlling the crowd. Finn had quite a warm and sunny personality, wearing bright colours during performances, his signature colour being blue. His smile, and fluffy, light brown could make anyone fall for him. Halo was despondent - messy black hair, heavy eyeliner, painted nails, and skull shaped rings. He was the kind of e-boy that girls went crazy for. And then there's Mitch - honey blond hair, a dazzling smile, and fuckboy tendencies.

The band as a whole did world tours, making their appearances rare and highly anticipated. Harry often travelled way before he even knew that Heartbreak Haven was a thing, and finding out about them just motivated him to travel even more. When he wasn't abroad though, Harry was stuck in his apartment in New York, working as an accountant for some shitty company. He hated his job, but, hey, there wasn't many other options. So when he heard that Heartbreak Haven was holding a concert in New York - where he fucking lived - Harry had to stop himself from squealing. Tickets to the concert were being sold out everywhere though, and it was exceedingly difficult to get one.

Harry had almost completely given up on being able to buy one when his best friend, (the one he had met at his first concert) Heather, had come bursting through his door with two tickets in hand, and a large smile on their face. Harry had given Heather an incredulous look, his bright green eyes darting between the tickets, and them. "How did you get those?" Heather simply went on grinning, and pushed their braided hair out of their eyes. "I have my ways. Now come on, you can't stay inside all day! We have some celebrating to do, I just bought these wretched tickets off of the black market!" Harry's eyes widened at Heather's last words.

Heather seemed completely unfazed though, and they crossed their arms, their many bracelets clinking together as they moved. "I mean, I was going to give my second to ticket to my girlfriend," they paused at the mention of Vivian, grimacing slightly, "but then she broke up with me, so, yeah. But I have you, so that's great!" Harry rolled his eyes, leaning his back against the couch behind him. "Whatever, I shouldn't have even asked. And, besides, isn't Vivian in jail now?" Heather gave a delighted snort, moving to sit next to Harry. "Yeah, she totally got busted for weed. It was fucking amazing."

They stretched a bit, their eyes fluttering closed. "Why don't we go to a club, or something? I feel like getting wasted right now." Heather glared at him, getting to their feet. "So you can throw up in my car at the end of the night? No thanks, Harry, I rather not." Harry pouted at Heather, following them out of his door, and into the cold evening air. "But Heather...." he whined, holding onto their coat. "That was only once. And I wasn't that drunk, it was only meant to be a one time thing!" Heather leaned against their car, shaking their head fondly. There was a knowing glint in their eyes, and it was obvious that they were already in a hyper state.

"Fine then. But we're taking your car this time. Mine still smells faintly like barf because of you. No amount of disinfectant could fix that mess." Harry fumbled in his pockets for his car keys. "Alright then, bet. Now get in, I'm not above driving off without you." Heather slid into the front seat with him, fastening their seatbelt as the street lights flickered on.

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Bright lights, loud noises, and good, no, great music.

That was basically what Heartbreak Haven's concerts were all about (ignoring the occasional switch in atmosphere) and Harry loved it. Right now, he had his eyes glued on the lead singer, while Heather bumped his shoulder, their eyes shining. The lead guitarist was currently moving around on his feet, while the rest played their own instrument, with Mitch singing their most popular song: 'Isla Bett.' Harry parted his lips slightly as Mitch stepped forwards, microphone held tightly in his veined hands, and smirked, his hazel eyes slanting as he sang the next words—

"And, oh don't break my heart, pretty boy,

Because I'm an Isla, an Isla Bett,

Lovely girl, wrong name,

The crowd sang the next words for him, the girl stood just behind Harry practically screaming it:

"Only us, stupid name, break my heart all over again, Isla fucking Bett!"

Harry's eyes ran over all the band members, finally landing on the mystery guy. He had his eyes downturned, and closed, a vague smile gracing his pink lips. Harry blushed, watching as the lead guitarist tilted his head back, his eyes still closed as his fingers moved fast and skilled on the guitar, and his free hand slid up his shirt, revealing several tattoos littering his pale skin. Suddenly his eyes fluttered open again, and he looked down at Harry, amused. Harry looked away, beyond embarrassed, and tried to make it seem like he hadn't been shamelessly staring at his every move. To his surprise though, the guy gave him a sweet smile, and then went back to his routine.

Harry could of fainted right there and then. How could he possibly concentrate on the song, when his celebrity crush was standing in front of him, so close that he felt that he could simply just climb onto the stage if he wanted to. Which he didn't. But, oh, how he wished he could. There came a few more songs after Isla Bett (like- 'Sweet Face Ada May,' and others) and then the concert ended. As he stood in the parking lot with Heather, Harry's mind buzzed with excitement. He thought back to the mystery guitarist, and the suitable lyrics in one of the later songs in the concert—
"I'm the boy you'd die for..."

Oh, and that same fucking lead guitarist had stopped him on his way out. Harry had gazed at him, watching as he brought out a pen, and scribbled his phone number on the other guy's wrist. Heather had totally waylaid him afterwards, rambling about how lucky he was to have that player's attention.

But as Harry stared off into the empty parking lot, he wondered if the two could become more than 'the admirer and his celebrity crush.'

But maybe that's too much for a guy he didn't even know the name of.

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A/N: Anddd, I'm back again. Not sick anymore, so that's great, and I've had some kind of rush of writer's inspiration, so maybe heaven's gates have opened for me or some shit. Anyways, the next update is completely unpredictable, so bye!