Dark || larry

5.5

Harry's POV

"Girl fight!"

Niall perked up considerably, animatedly glancing around to see where the bitchy brawl was taking place. When unsuccessful he focused back on his beer in dissatisfaction. The lull in conversation didn't last long, the vibrant blue earning inquisitiveness.

"Hey, mate, where's Louis?" He asked a little perplexed.

I'd left him by the pool with Nick, insisting that he watch out for him while I was absent. I had hoped the time would give them an opportunity to talk. However, Nick's state of intoxication would probably dictate a discussion more inclined to inform people on the colour of his socks than anything of great depth. He was even more of a menace than usual when offered a full glass.

Niall continued to stare, impatiently waiting for my answer. His eyebrows were raised in question, a prompt. It was a push that I neglected until a breathless male barged into the casual atmosphere. His hair was a mess and the shirt he was wearing appeared to be buttoned up in an odd order, the remains of a drink spilt down the front.

"Oi, come on, there's some girls down the end of the garden going at it!"

The stranger retreated the way he had come, skidding haphazardly over the laminate flooring and out the double doors into the night.

Fuck.

Surely not, not Louis, he was the least likely person to ever participate in a fight. It couldn't be him. But that reassurance didn't stop me scrabbling up from the sofa and making a dash for the French doors at the back of the house. Niall was right behind me, sprinting across the decking and down the steps. The pool was to the back of the garden, the informer weaving between the small gatherings of partygoers, a path which we made our route almost as if tail-gating an emergency service vehicle.

"Louis!"

My heart plummeted as I identified the hard, protective stance Louis used to stand solidly by the side of Hayley. I'd experienced a comparable stature before, recollecting the time he had sheltered me against a wall when I could barely stand. A somewhat small but effective blockade preventing my body from receiving a continued onslaught of violence. He'd practically carried me back to his house that night. The night that I'd told him about my dad.

As we drew closer, it was plain to see the situation panning out. They were attracting an increasing crowd of thirsty onlookers, the three girls exchanging heated words. I was unable to put a name to the third girl, she stood taller but not by much, her height elevated by the heels she wobbled in. And even more so as she roughly lunged forward.

"Let go of him!" Hayley screeched.

A fist full of Louis' hair was taken, yanking him in an attempt to divide his and Hayley's concrete alliance. By the time I reached the surrounding ring of audience, scratchy nails had left marks on skin. I'd seen many catty fights on numerous nights out, but it never came down to blows; at best it was tingling pink with a slap to the face. And it was almost always caused by a cheating guy who thought he could get away with having it off with two girls at the same time.

It was all a little surreal, not quite sure of how something could escalate so furiously, especially with Louis in the middle; quite literally as his hair was clenched in the aggressive female's fist. I fought through a compacted wall of people as shrieks were heard from the inside the temporary ring.

A hand that clasped to my shoulder was shrugged off, only for the force to be reapplied with more authority moments later. I soon discovered the owner of the unwanted constraint, shoving the arrogant twat away.

"Let them fight it out," he complained, breath reeking of mixed drinks.

Of course he'd want a girl fight, nothings more entertaining to a gang of lads than having females potentially rip at each other's clothes whilst screaming in competition.