So, What? // 1D AU ✓

Chapter 3

~So I'm gonna drink my money,

I'm not gonna pay his rent (nope!)!~

There was a bartender with a dirty rag standing above the table that Cole and crew had been sitting at less than an hour ago. Harry's passage of time was very skewed due to his breakdown. "Um, that's mine."

The bartender turned - in his other hand was Harry's backpack with the three precious items in it. Phone, inhaler, lipstick. He reached into the bag, but there were only two things that he felt. Which meant that Cole had found his bag and grabbed the inhaler - and then left. His breathing was still janky, and that was enough to send him into a semi-panic. The phone was his next grab.

No notifications.

"Hey Siri, dial Cole."

The bartender, just a few feet away, cleaned the drinks off of the table, but Harry knew that meant that the tab had been paid and the crew was barhopping. And Cole had left Harry, next to a puddle of urine, in a club, on a Friday night, alone.

Pick up the fucking phone, you jackass.

No answer. There was no need to send a follow-up text or even stay on the line long enough to leave a voicemail. Harry clenched his fists and felt his face get hot. Turning towards the bar, his green eyes scanned for a quieter area. The only place had to be along the wall, where there was one blonde bartender cleaning glasses alone.

Within seconds, he had shoved his way through the crowd and got there. There weren't any seats, so he simply leaned against the bar. "Hey there, what can I get you?" Blonde hair was pushed up in spikes. The second before Harry arrived, he looked sad and withdrawn, but was now outwardly bubbly and happy.

"Um...I don't know." Harry covered his face and rubbed his eyes.

The bartender leaned over, inspecting his face. "You don't look so good there, pal. Maybe what you need is some advice? I'm licensed to hand that out too."

"I'm okay," Harry shook his head, but still didn't make a movement to order anything or leave.

The bartender continued to look straight through him, as if he didn't believe him. "Are you sure? I can give you some alcohol, but that only delays the pain."

Harry glanced down at his nametag, noticing the name "Niall" and making a face, finally cracking and making a decision. "Give me something fruity and your best advice, barkeep."

Niall started making the drink, and dancing behind his section of the bar. "Were you that kid crying in the corner over there?"

"Yep, that's me," Harry rolled his eyes. "How fucking embarrassing."

"No one cares really. It's just life, bro. Everyone cries in a bar once in a while." Niall smiled and continued to dance around to the beat of his own music. Despite the club music that you could make up any dance to, Niall was way off the beat and doing his own thing. "Why were you crying?"