R O O M 1 9 7 // Harry Styles & Louis Tomlinson Edition

Seventeen: Part II

~Friday 6th January 2017~

21:34 pm

The winter evening air pushes past Harry, as he rushes outside, finding himself on the entrance stairs of The Silk Night, out of breathe and completely dazed. His breathing is rapid, as he evaluates tonight's events in his disorientated head, working through the conflicting emotions storming and swirling around in the tight space. The image of his older sister, is once again present in the back of his mind, crossing her arms across her chest and shaking her head in disappointment. Why does she always appear when I'm at my worst? Like, I'm not already feeling guilty enough...
Once he regains some sense of control, pushing Gemma out, Harry stands straight and scans the adjoining highstreet for the nearest bar or club. Before he can find one, his eyes meet the figure of Harrison - leaning against his car as he flicks away the last of a cigarette.
"Need some fresh air?" Harrison asks, with his forever-friendly tone of voice. Harry descends the steps, and approaches the car, only nodding in response. Harrison nods back. "Been there, done that, buddy. Just think, I've had to deal with her for years." He chuckles. Harry can't imagine anything worse than spending that amount of time with Louis' wife, and joins Harrison in reserved laughter.

Harry sighs, rolling his head backwards in frustration and takes a moment to look up at the stars above him - the cold air freezing his raw skin, but also releasing the tightness in his muscles. The navy blue suit he is wearing is fitted comfortably, but the fabric scratches at his skin, leaving short red marks against his neck.
"You want a ride?" Harrison interjects, gesturing towards the car that sits beside them on the road.
"Aren't you supposed to wait for those two?" Harry says, pointing a thumb back in the direction of the fancy building. Harrison chuckles once more and shakes his head.
"They're gonna be a few more hours yet." Harrison answers, showing Harry a reassuring smile. "C'mon, it'll give me something to do. Only so many CDs I can listen to before it gets repetitive, you know?" He adds, his characteristic grin pulling up at the corners of his mouth. Harry grins back, and nods in agreement.

Harrison pulls open the back door for Harry and he climbs inside, thanking Harrison as he does so. He drives towards Harry's apartment building, making sure to turn the car's heating on full, warming Harry up quickly, as they drive through the night streets of Chicago.
The street lamps pass Harry as they go, illuminating him and then sending him into darkness as each one goes by - a slow pattern of orange light and dark shadows over and over again. It's now when the streetlight rays shine through the car window that the reflection is caught on something, shimmering beside Harry's seat, drawing his attention towards it.

It's a sequin - a single crimson sequin from Mrs Tomlinson's dress, and Harry cannot help but pick it up and inspect it, twirling the hard circle between his fingers. It's irregularly shaped, and as Harry continues to fiddle with it, some of the red dye scratches off, staining the skin of his fingertips. Harry scoffs, finding humour in the fact that such an expensive garment can ruin so easily, and drops the sequin onto the floor, rubbing away the dye from his skin.
Even the most glamorous of things have their flaws.

It's not long before Harrison pulls up outside of Harry's building, bringing the car to a stop gently, and turning in his seat to face Harry.
"Be careful tonight." Harrison says, showing his fondness for Harry as he flashes a friendly and genuine smile. Harry is unsure as to what Harrison means, so remains silent, before reaching for the door handle.
"Look...I don't mean to bring it up..." Harrison starts, looking down, unable to form the right words he's looking for. "You and Mr Tomlinson had a good thing going for a while. I could tell. I've known him for years, and he seemed happier. Now...he doesn't. And, neither do you. And, I've noticed a pattern that whenever you're down about something, the next day your breath smells of booze. I just want you to be careful. I care about you. And, so does Boss." Harrison's voice is low and soft, as he grabs a bottle of water from the glove compartment and passes it over to Harry, with an affectionate grin.

Harry accepts the offering, and smiles back at the middle-aged man who has become one of his closest friends in the short time he has known him. Not that Harry has many friends to count on that list, but Harrison's friendship means the world to him, nonetheless.
"Thank you." He takes his time with the two words, driving forward the genuine meaning behind them, before opening the door and stepping back out into the cold. Harrison nods - as Harry shuts the door behind himself - and beeps his horn as he pulls away from the sidewalk.
Harry flips the water bottle in his hands, from side to side, as the neon lights of Pilgrim's bar across the street blink purple and blue, catching his eye. The plastic label of the bottle crinkles against Harry's skin as he turns it, noticing the Tomlinson Crest printed on either side.

Once, however long ago it was - just a few days feel like an eternity - Louis had called Harry his coping mechanism. He had said, with his hands in Harry's hair and his lips tasting of mint toothpaste, that Harry helps him with his anger attacks. Oh, how times have changed since then.
Harry may have been Louis' coping mechanism for a short amount of time, but for as long as Harry can remember, alcohol and it's intoxicating numbness has been the only way young Harry can wrestle away his demons.
And, even some of those demons themselves are caused by his affection for booze. It's a vicious never-ending cycle. Harry drinks, then someone he loves leaves him, so he turns to the bottle, drowning his sorrows in liquor. This train-of-thought brings back unwanted memories of Gemma before she left, and Harry shakes his head, trying to get rid of them. He never wanted her to leave, especially not the way she did. He regrets it every single day.

With these images at the forefront of his mind - his sister, angry at another hangover, and Louis, his arms around his wife as they dance - along with the seven glasses of champagne sitting in his stomach, he forgets all the progress he has made breaking his connection to alcohol, and walks across the road, the purple-blue light of Pilgrim's bar pulling Harry in, like a foolish moth to an enticing flame.

The night is a sinner's playground. And, God knows Harry has sinned...

Chapter Image was found on Pinterest