Ensnared

Clubs and Drunk Confessions

I lied to him. Turquoise is not my favorite color. However, he looked so confident yet hopeful that he was right that there was no way I could tell him he was wrong. Turquoise isn't a bad color. It's a nice color. Not my favorite, but it's nice. I have a feeling that whenever I think of turquoise now, I'll end up picturing his massive grin and that's enough for me to see turquoise in a way I never have before; maybe even become my new favorite color.

I enjoy talking with Harry and in the short time that I'd been on tour with these guys I'd talked with him the most. He was easy to talk to and there was never a lull in conversation, even if they took longer than necessary because he talks so slow. He just has an easygoing personality that makes you relax whenever you're around him and for a consistently stressed out person like me, it's very welcome.

He's become a lot, I believe the English say, cheeky since our conversation behind the venue, but I could be wrong about that term. I'm not sure if it was the whistle comment, the banana, or something he'd completely thought up himself, but he'd become more handsy, although nothing inappropriate, and outwardly affectionate. Granted it's only been a few days but now he'd casually throw his arm around my shoulders as we walked, he'd pull me in for a hug after the show, despite my protests cause of how sweaty he is, or he'd make more and more suggestive jokes. Louis's began smirking at me and wiggling his eyebrows whenever Harry is outwardly affectionate and I usually throw him a middle finger and remind myself that Harry is an affectionate guy with all his friends.

We'd arrived in Denmark a day early and everyone wanted to go out to some club and enjoy their day off. I agreed to tag along and said I'd meet everyone there. I'd gotten caught up talking with Val and Riley earlier so I'd arrived well after everyone else. By the time I got there everyone else was either tipsy or full on drunk. I figured it would be a good night to remain sober. That way not everyone would be sloppy drunk.

"MAX!" Harry yelled happily seeing me walk towards the table. It was clear he was more than a few sheets to the wind by this point. Empty glasses littered the table in front of him and I wondered how many belonged to him. I was glad to see Harry having fun because he spent so much time being serious and trying to maintain a wholesome image; it was nice to see him let loose every once in a while.

I chatted with various people as I slowly nursed my single cocktail of the night. I only ordered it so people would stop questioning why I wasn't drinking. Thankfully no one seemed to notice it had been the same one all night.

Currently I was listening as Harry rambled on and on about topic after topic. Currently he was on how the difference between Saint Laurent and Hermes designs was obvious and anyone who couldn't see it was an idiot, whereas he started on what a wonderful country Denmark is and how much he loves it. How he got to where he is now I'll never know. I suppose that's the beauty of being drunk, nothing needs to make sense because you don't know what you're saying anyways.

"Will you marry me Max." Harry slurred after a moment.

"What?" How did he get here from fashion designers?

"Yeah! You're pretty and people tell me I'm pretty so we'd probably make pretty babies." He said like it was the obvious thing to do.

"I don't think that's a good idea." I said gently. As soon as I said it tears sprang to his eyes causing my own to widen in surprise.

"What? You don't want to marry me?" He cried.

Oh shit. Happy drunk Harry is entertaining, but sad drunk Harry seems like he could be a handful.

"It's not that. I just think it would be a decision better made with all our marbles." I tried soothing him but I don't think it's working.