Make A Wish •larry stylinson•

XII• Making Mistakes

This story is flying by.. Only like 2 more more chapters my babies c:

I worked hard on this chapter, but I hope it doesn't make you too sad >.<Excuse grammar mistakes, it's late and I'm tired ._.


I wouldn't expect super frequent updates for the rest of this month, cos I am super jam-packed with stuff to do, unfortunately.

But I will be uploading the next chapter- which is a fabbbbbb chapter I tell you- today or tomorrow.

Okay enjoy (;xx





"Are you sure you want to go out? We can just stay home and watch movies... Liam sure wouldn't mind," Zayn joked dryly, his words sounding like the ones he had uttered four times before. It was responded by the same silence, Harry's dull eyes staring out of the window wordlessly.

Harry wasn't sure about this. But maybe if he got drunk he'd understand what Louis thought was so amazing about it. He was drunk every night.

Zayn tapped the steering wheel nervously, trying his best to maneuver through pap and pedestrians. Driving through loads of people always made him terribly nervous, but the it only one of the small downsides to being who he was.

"Have you ever been here?" Zayn questioned, nodding to the building that was decorated in flashing lights and signs.

Harry shrugged simply, vaguely recalling having come there before with Niall. He didn't care where they went, he just needed out.

When they entered the club Harry practically ran to the bar, requesting the strongest drink they had. Zayn disappeared soon after, finding that he had no control over the younger boy no matter what he said.

After about the third drink, it became almost like a game to Harry-'Let's see how much Harry can drink in five minutes' it would be called. Harry giggled at the title he created before downing yet another one. If this were a game he would win, hands down.

After far too many, Harry let his feet lead him to the mob of dancing bodies. He sank into the crowd, letting the music seep into his skin. He shut his eyes, taking in the dance floor heat. He felt better already, because he no longer was Harry Styles-no; he was just another person who was drinking the night away, like everyone else in the club.

He felt a body press against his, and he didn't even open his eyes to see who it could be. Instead he snaked his arms around the body, taking in their heat and the scent of booze that reeked off of them. The person, a girl he would assume, grinded against him. He felt dirty, having this person all over him.

But if he pictured Louis he would feel better. So he did, a small smirk appearing on his face as he let his drunken hallucinations make him feel better about himself.

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, sweat building on Harry's brow as more people seemed to crowd around. As more skin brushed against Harry's he felt almost as though he were suffocating-there was too many people, too much contact. He could practically feel his throat closing up, or maybe that was his imagination.

Harry's eyes shot open wide, frantically scanning all over. He felt his arms push through people as his feet carrying him far away. He finally took a breath when his feet stopped moving.

He was outside, a cold breeze slapping him in the face and sweeping his curls aside. He took a shaky breath as he looked around, taking note of how eerie the alleyway looked under the moonlight. The pumping music could be faintly heard, and Harry suddenly didn't want to be outside alone.

The sound of spine chilling laughter filled the air and Harry searched through the night for the source. He could almost feel eyes on him, or maybe that was his imagination. The creepy outline of shadows were etched on the bricks of the building and Harry shivered nervously, his hands finding something steady to lean themselves on.

He shut his eyes for a moment, and that was all it took.

Something hard made contact with his jaw, and all traces of balance escaped him as he tumbled to the floor. A few more blows hit spots all over his body, from his shoulder blades to his shins.

A weight fell over Harry, and he forced his eyes open and was met with the gaze of two hard, cold brown eyes. He felt hands on his skin, hands traveling down and touching the waistband of his jeans. Hands moving down and padding through his pockets, shoveling out his phone and loose change.

Hot breath on his neck and ear sent shivers or repulsion through his body. "Please," he whimpered. There was a throaty laugh before the man spoke.

"Please what, pretty boy?" The voice was like gravel, but like nails on a chalkboard.

"Don't..." His frightened voice trailed off, but the man smiled sickly sweet. Harry squirmed under his weight in panic as tears spilled down his cheek.

"I bet you'd like it though, right pretty boy?" Hands found their way up Harry's shirt and he let out a sound of pure fear.

No. This couldn't happen. Not to Harry.

He began to sob as fingers dug into his sides, hard enough to leave bruises. In between sobs he let out pleads with the man, but his pleads were ignored. Hands groped their way along his body until thumbs were latched onto his waistband. Fingers fumbled with the button of his jeans and Harry shut his eyes tightly.

Suddenly the hands stopped and after a mumbled "Shit," the weight lifted off of a trembling Harry. He lie there for a few moments, listening to the sound of hurried footsteps nearing. He curled into a ball just as someone called out his name. "Harry?"

Harry smiled as he recognized Zayns voice. Zayn was going to rescue him.

Harry was being shaken suddenly, and he squinted at the face hovering over his. "Zayn," He whispered.

"Harry!" Zayn whimpered, frantically trying to work out what to do in his head.

"Take me home. Just take me home."