Fallen Angel (Harry Styles/Dark)

Chapter 1: Angel's Night

The club, as usual, was crowded: drunken people dancing, swaggering to the bar, or dragging their dates to a corner for a snogging session. Music was booming through the area, surprisingly not shattering any windows. The place was dark, with laser lights of pink, green, blue, red, yellow swirling by. It would have been almost too hard for Harry and Louis to identify anyone in the dark, let alone actually find their friends.

It was mid-June. 17th, to be precise. 10 o' clock, just the right time, according to Harry. The same time he was here, every year on June 17th, ever since that night three years ago.

"Harry..." He felt a hand on his arm. He tensed for a second, not liking being touched, until he realised it was just Louis and he calmed down-as much as he could, anyway. The club... This particular club, brought back memories.

But he came back here every year.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, turning his head slightly to look at his best friend.

Louis could hear the pain in his voice, could feel how tense he was. He didn't understand why he did this every year. It hurt Harry, being back here, but he came on the same date, at the precise time.

Louis moved his hand away from his shoulder and moved so they were walking-or rather pushing through the crowd-side-by-side. "Are you sure you want to do it again?" Louis asked, loud enough for his friend to hear. "We could go back or maybe somewhere else..." He knew what Harry's answer would be, but he tried anyway.

As he expected, Harry took his curly head. Louis caught a glimpse of emotion on his face, before his typical hard mask was put on again. He decided to stop arguing-he'd asked Harry if he wanted to go home about every five minutes since they left his apartment-and followed Harry to the bar, where they were supposed to meet the rest of their group.

HxC

Harry was usually the first to have a girl with him, dancing in the middle of the club, and later going back to his apartment.

But every year, on June 17th, in that club, Harry was the one who was always the one who spent the entire night alone, sitting on a stool by the bar and watching his friends have a good time, with the occasional glance over by a concerned Louis, who, every year, told Harry he didn't need to come to the club.

But Harry always did.

It was his drug.

When Harry closed his eyes, he felt it-he felt like his younger self, seventeen years old, using his fake ID to get into the club, because he so desperately needed a drink. He so desperately needed to forget, at least for one night, the night it was always most painful.

Now this night was painful for multiple reasons.

"Mister?"

Harry looked up to see a young redheaded girl dressed in black-and-white bartender/waitress clothes. She was balancing a circular tray with shot glasses on one hand, while she looked at Harry with a polite smile.

"You look like you could use a drink," She said, offering him a large shot glass from her tray. Harry eyed the glass for a second, before plucking it out of the girl's outstretched hand.

"Thank you," He said with a short nod. Normally he would have smirked or winked. Normally, he'd already have a drink in his hand.

The waitress smiled. "That's tequila, by the way. Be careful!" She chimed before walking away towards the people lounging in the back of the hall.

Harry gazed at the drink in his hand. He could handle his alcohol well, but he wasn't sure about this night. He didn't know if he was strong enough during this time to handle his alcohol. He'd never had drinks during this night.