So, What? // 1D AU ✓

Chapter 23

~I got my rock moves,

And I don't want you tonight~

"Mr. Styles, may I have this dance?" Cole Franklin asked across the table. Harry didn't look up from his phone. Elbows on the table, one finger on his left hand pushing his lower lip farther into his mouth so he could chew on it. "HARRY!" Cole bellowed, setting his beer down. The group of friends around him didn't seem to notice that he was checking out of their momentary fun. His husband, cute curls fluffing, looked up, green eyes small and empty. "Let's dance! I love this song!"

Continuing eye contact, Harry shook his head, looking completely nonplussed. Exactly as he had when Cole had suggested going the club tonight. Was he doing something wrong? He turned his head to the side slightly, and smiled at him, trying to cheer him up with just a look.

Harry turned his head to the side and stood up, placing his bag firmly in the chair. Cole instantly grabbed his waist and began pushing him through the crowd. "Are you having fun?" There was no way this was enjoyable for him.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Happiness filled his eyes as he spun around, and his ego was soothed.

It was like when they had first gone out. Grinding at gay clubs in San Francisco, his little bold Harry with that lipstick he always loved. Despite everything, the constant bullying and cheating - because there was a lot of that - he loved Harry. They shared their lives together.

Harry started laughing as Cole began acting idiotic. Then they kissed. A tender sweaty moment on the dance floor. Just like a million kisses that they had shared over the years.

A second later, a gasp left his mouth, like he couldn't breathe. Cole's panic kicked in immediately, and he saw that reflected in his husband's face. "What is it?"

Harry stumbled into some people, and Cole caught him. Grabbing his wrist, he felt a fast heartbeat. Was he having a heart attack? A stroke. "I'm dying," He noted, which ramped his anxiety up really bad. Then he flashed peace signs, and that didn't help either. Was he being serious or faking it?

Cole grabbed him and pushing him towards the bathroom. Curls pressed tightly into his chest, and his long legs flailed uselessly. "Use your fucking legs, Harry! Jesus, you're scaring me!" He lost his grip, and Harry hit the ground hard - the white tiles in front of the bathroom. Crawling into the corner, and tears fell out of his eyes. Mumbling frantically, looking insane. Did someone drug him?

"Inhaler. Inhaler. I need my inhaler."

"What?" Cole came down into his worldview, brushing his curls away and fixing his shirt as much as he could.

"Inhaler." He repeated.

"I can't go home and get it! Do I take you to the hospital? Tell me what's going on, Harry!"

Harry's green eyes stared at him, full of anger. He was definitely on something. Had to be. He had just asked a normal question! "It's in my bag. My inhaler. Table."