Lockdown | Harry Styles | AU

Prologue

"For gods sake, Harry. Look at the state of you."

"M'fine," Harry mumbled, wiping his palms over his face in an attempt to relieve his pounding head.

"You missed your interview with the Rolling Stone, are you happy?" The man continued to bark at Harry. "I've been calling you all goddamn morning—and now I find that you're hungover to high heaven!"

Harry winced at the volume of his voice as he sat perched on the edge of the hotel bed, dressed in only his black briefs. His chestnut curly hair wild and messy while his green bloodshot eyes gazed at the floor through the dark circles that surrounded them. The headache that he had woken up to was only getting louder, his brain feeling like it was throbbing against his skull. The room around him, all though big, was messy and littered with clothing and empty bottles, while the sheets of his bed lay tangled and stinking of cheap perfume. The drunken night of sex Harry barely remembered with the random girl he had kicked out earlier, very evident.

"My phone's dead, Derek. What do you want from me?" Harry grumbled while raking his fingers through his hair.

"Your phone's dead?" Derek let out a humourless laugh, "that's all you have to say? Seriously?"

"It's not the end of the world, just reschedule the interview." Harry said casually standing up and stretching out his thick lean arms, his muscles contracting under his tanned skin with each movement.

"Of course! I'll just reschedule the Rolling Stone, why didn't I think of that?" Derek spoke with dramatic sarcasm as he smacked his palm to his forehead, watching as Harry walked across the huge luxurious hotel room to reach the small bar.

"You're gonna give yourself a fucking stroke if you keep stressing out like that." Harry spoke while pouring a few fingers of whiskey, the burnt amber liquid swirling around the glass.

"Oh that's great, just drink more. Yes, that'll solve everything!" Derek drawled out before pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes for a moment.

"I need some hair of the dog if I'm gonna function today." Harry shrugged before bringing the tumbler to his lips and tipping the whiskey into his mouth, enjoying the scorch of the flavour before swallowing it.

"You always need hair of the dog." Derek said under his breath before he took Harry's previous seat on the edge of the bed.

Harry ignored Derek's comment with an eye roll, tilting his head back so he could finish off his whiskey by pouring the rest of it down his throat. The strength of the alcohol instantly making his blood warm up, kick starting his buzz and easing the aches and pains of his hangover. While Derek pulled out his phone from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, his fingers gliding over the screen as he responded to a few emails, stress taking over his body as he rubbed at his ash blonde hair.

"You've got a meeting this afternoon with the studio before you fly out to the Isle of Roda next week." Derek spoke after a heavy sigh, slipping his phone back into his pocket before glancing back up at Harry. Harry just continued to face away from Derek, his hands moving to fix himself another drink.

"Okay." Harry pursed his lips, taking a large gulp from his second drink.

"Take a shower and sort yourself out." Derek told Harry in a stern and disappointed tone. "I'll be downstairs in the lobby."

Harry leaned an elbow on the bar as he turned to face Derek, his hand reaching up to his forehead where he threw Derek a salute. Derek just rolled his eyes and shook his head as he stood up from the bed and headed towards the door, his hand gripping the handle and throwing it open, but before he left, he looked over his shoulder and allowed his eyes to land on Harry once again.

"You're a talented actor, Harry." He spoke lowly. "But one day that's not gonna be enough."

Then with that, Derek left the room.

Leaving Harry with the words of warning he had spoken lingering in the air, making the pit in the bottom of his stomach grow.

He wasn't always like this.