Let Your Good Heart Lead You Home (Zarry AU)

Part 19

It goes like he expected; he's still stuck at the table while the rest is out dancing, nursing his drink and watching the dance floor like a hawk. Not so bad as the venue with the sticky tables. At least he has a seat and a better drink (something sweet and fruity that feels like an attack on his taste buds).

Harry just doesn't enjoy being pressed up against strangers and sharing their sweat. Or having people step on his feet and spill drinks on him. Something always happens, so now he prefers to stay on the sidelines and simply enjoy the music and some drinks (not always paid for by himself). Admittedly, there's not much to do, so he spends the majority of the time on his phone, scrolling through news apps to see if there's anything yet. It's been quiet for too long. Maybe his plan worked and the Artist actually listened, but that thought doesn't necessarily please him. It's odd, but he's been looking forward to it; another report to get him going. Harry's been waiting for it, a reason to get out and do something creative. See if he can get his message across.

What also excites him is that nobody knows. He can look around this nightclub, see the people carelessly dancing to the loud pounding beat, and know that they have no idea. There's nothing more satisfying than successfully keeping a secret. Well, maybe just a few things.

When the news apps provide him with nothing new, he moves on to more boring things, like social media and his email. As soon as he taps on the little icon, his heart stops.

There's a reply.

She replied.

Gemma, his sister, sent him an email. And he's going to read it in the middle of a fucking club. Maybe it's a good thing he's had a few drinks. What if it's a message telling him to stop trying to contact her? His shaking finger hovers over the email, a nauseating fear creeping into his system. He feels light headed, but determined. With one deep breath, he taps on the unread message.

Dear Harry,

I don't quite know how to begin. It's been years and I have never once responded to your messages, yet I kept them in my inbox, unread. A few weeks have passed since your last one, but I hope you're still using this address, as I have no other way to contact you.

My husband said I should contact you. You're my only brother. Maybe we should patch things up, or see if we want to after getting to know each other more. I'm still not sure about this, but I trust his judgment. At least we would have tried, you know?

Gemma

His sister. She doesn't love him, but neither does she hate him. She kept his messages, but didn't read them. Harry doesn't know what to think, he's just overwhelmed, silent tears leaving shiny trails on his cheeks. His sister. Gemma contacted him.

Almost like he has a sixth sense for it, Liam rushes over to the table and slides into the booth next to Harry, patting his cheek. He always does this, finds Harry when he needs to. He's a lifesaver.

''What's wrong? What happened?'' Liam sounds distressed, wiping at the tear tracks and looking at him with big eyes.

''Gemma,'' Harry chokes on a sob. He hasn't said her name in so long, it feels foreign. ''Gemma,'' he says again, his sight going blurry.

''Your sister?'' Liam seems confused. He knows they haven't spoken in years and he knows that it's a sensitive subject for Harry, but he doesn't know what really happened. For obvious reasons.

Harry bites on his bottom lip, nodding his head. ''S-she has a husband.'' His shoulders are shaking and snot is dripping out of his nose. He doesn't care if it looks unattractive, or that Liam has to wipe it away with a napkin. ''What if she has k-kids?'' He buries his face in Liam's neck, taking in huge gulps of air and trying to clear his head. It's too much, everything is too much. The alcohol, the music, the flashing lights, his sister.

''I'm sorry.'' Harry pulls back, taking a clean napkin so he can wipe away the snot and tears on Liam's neck. It doesn't help much; he was sticky to begin with, sweat clinging to his skin and cheeks red.

''Don't, it's okay.'' Liam uses his own napkin to wipe at Harry's nose again, ruffling his hair afterwards. It makes Harry giggle like a child, followed by a loud hiccup.

''We must look ridiculous.''

''Sure it's just you, mate.''

Harry laughs again, grabbing Liam's hand where it's resting on the table. ''She emailed me.''

''That's good, right?'' Liam squeezes his hand, rubbing his thumb softly over Harry's knuckles.

''Yeah, it's good.'' Harry wipes at his eyes, inhaling deeply and feeling the pressure in his chest slowly dissolve until he's just tired, and happy. ''Amazing, really.''

Liam pulls him into a firm hug, pressing their cheeks together. ''I'm happy for you.''

''Love you.'' Harry feels like he doesn't tell him that enough. There are so many things about Liam that he loves, but he never tells him. So many moments where he feels blessed to have such an amazing friend who understands him and even when he doesn't, still supports him.

They're both being shaken by Liam's laughing, and when he pulls back his eyes are shining with a bright happiness. ''Love you too, bro.'' Liam appraises the table, notices Harry's unfinished drink and nods at it. ''Finish that and then head home, yeah? Get some sleep.''

Harry pulls the drink towards him and finishes it in one gulp, enjoying the way it burns a sweet trail in his chest. ''Ookay!''

''Text me when you're there.'' Liam tends to order people around. It's his way of taking care of them, because he's sensible and knows what's best for them. Harry isn't in a right state of mind to decide for himself; if it were up to him he'd stay at the table and bury himself in drinks just to stifle the whirlwind inside him. Until he feels nothing but warmth and the desire to sleep. Sometimes he wonders what it's like to sleep with someone. Just sleep, no sex. Cuddling and comfort.

They shuffle out of the booth and Harry makes his way outside after receiving a kiss on the forehead from Liam, something he does sometimes. Usually as a way of saying goodnight after an eventful night or day. It's comforting and familiar, an almost magical gesture saying enough, rest, no more bad things. Harry's own good luck charm.

He steps out onto the street, tugging his hair behind his ears when the wind blows it in front of his face. It's cold and he regrets not bringing a coat. He's about to step towards the curb so he can hail a cab when there's a noise. It's so small that nobody around him seems to have noticed. Maybe he imagined it? There's a prickling feeling at the back of his neck urging him to investigate. He heard something. He's familiar with this particular kind of noise, tuned in to it.

Eventually he gives in, following his gut to the nearest alley. There's another cry, muffled. This time he's sure, and he hurries towards the source of it, finding two people. One is a man, pressing a girl against a brick wall, his hands over her mouth. It's dark, too dark to see, but Harry doesn't need to see. He knows.

''Hey!'' he yells, barging forward. The man releases the girl and she runs off, stumbling on her heels. Harry faces the stranger as soon as she's out of sight, finding the man grinning at him dumbly. Obviously drunk.

''Wann' suck m' dick?'' The man laughs, thrusting his hips forward. ''She was too noisy f' my taste.''

Time seems to skip forward, and Harry has him pressed against a wall, hands gripping firmly onto the man's jacket. ''You monster.'' His heart is racing and the smell of cigarettes and alcohol make his stomach twist. He pushes the man to the ground and takes a step back, breathing heavily.

He can do something. There's nobody around that sees them. He can stop this man forever. He wants to. But it's too risky. ''You're so lucky,'' Harry says to him, voice rough. ''You don't deserve it.''

Walking away is hard, one of the hardest things he's had to do for a while. But he'll make up for it, somehow.

Gemma is back!! :) Next update is on Tuesday! Who can guess what's going to happen?

Laters xxx <3