Dealing With Absence » h. styles au

34ᵀᴴ CHAPTER

                                        34ᵀᴴ CHAPTER 

           "Some days the small victories are all you achieve"

He feels the pleasant burn of the alcohol running down his throat for the first time since what feels like centuries, the lights flashing quick enough to make it all slow down; too many bodies and too loud music so he has to yell over it to make his friend listen, just inches away.

“I’m fine, Jesus! Why d’you worry so much?”

Zayn scowls his expression into a smug, smirk-y one, and Harry sighs.

This feels a lot like college days; Fridays, more specifically, when they would both leave everything behind and wander from club to club, Zayn always by the bar, Harry getting lost amongst the crowd within a drink or two. As the months went by, years, even, Zayn had learned how to ignore the pity he’d felt for Harry, melting it into concern, and later, pure disdain.

He would watch Harry (losing his mind along to the beat every single weekend) the same way he would do his crosswords in the morning, except with a glass of beer rather than a cup of coffee. Harry didn’t mind.

He would always come back to their shared flat alone, and he would always be up the morning next the moment Harry walked into the front door, hair mussed and smelling as if he’d slept on a dumpster. (Or he would leave his bedroom the same way, the only difference is that on those days there would always be some different girl doing the walk of shame. Harry thinks Zayn felt more embarrassed for the girl than she did herself).

The thing is, though, Harry never slept next to them. He would either throw her out his flat the moment business were done, or sleep on the floor when he didn’t have enough courage to do so. When his nightstands didn’t include his own bed, he would leave the other person’s and wander through the night, too ashamed and too tired to face Zayn the same day.

So, really. He gets it. He gets why Zayn is worried, like he does most of the time now, when he feels like he’s finally gotten out of the depression he lived in. He gets his friend is afraid – frightened – he might start it all over again, lose himself to his own mind and give up on everything that matters. He gets it, that Zayn doesn’t want him to walk away again, mostly because they are friends, and what they have is something Harry wouldn’t find anywhere else.

But. Like.

Harry won’t. He knows he won’t, because he’s back to the place he used to visit the most (not particularly this one club, but you get it), and he doesn’t feel like standing up and joining the crowd. He doesn’t feel like choosing some random girl to charm and take home.

Also, Zayn is celebrating the most recent, well-succeeded sale of one of his sculptures, one it’d taken him ages to finish, so it’d be rude of him to leave his friend all on his own, if he wanted to. Which he doesn’t.

Perrie has wandered off to the bathroom it’s been a few minutes, and Harry has lost Elisha and PJ of sight already (Zayn’d asked Harry to bring the woman only, but Patrick showed up feeling ridiculously upset due work, and she’d insisted on him tagging along, even if it was to drink all on his own, in case Zayn didn’t want unknown people joining their small circle of friends).

“I’m not worried,” Zayn shouts back, aiming closer to Harry’s ear “I just think you’ve been staring to that specific wall it’s been quite a while.”

Harry rolls his eyes, annoyed. “They’re not even there, Zayn.”

Zayn’s smirk grows wider, and he leans back only enough to stretch out his arms, then leans back in. “So you do admit you’re looking for them?”