Chapter Text
Unintentional Series - Part 01 | Part 02
1. Hurts like hell
(Miles McMillan as Danny Ray)
February 2013 / London
Track 01 - Impossible | Track 02 - Hurts Like Hell
"Harry"
He hears Paul calling through the night chill as he hurries through lines of shiny vehicles in the club car park . Several people, mostly drivers who are guarding the celebrity vehicles turn their heads to him. But he does not stop... he could not. The music in the club echoes behind him and the sound abruptly stops as he gets in to his Range Rover, slamming the door behind him. With a slightly bumming head he starts the vehicle which automatically switches loud Oasis music.
Louis' fucking CD! The one he had put in while on the way ,few hours back.
H e doesn't bother switching it off but takes off turning the wheel with a one hand. He knows the security will be following him as always but he could not give a fuck. He had seen enough, Been in pain enough. He could not anymore.
Seeing them like that, wrapped in themselves... lips locked as if it was something normal, natural. It had only taken two weeks ... two weeks.
Pushing down the axel he speeds up passing some stunned faces and flashing lights. He wants to go as far as he could from here... as fast as he could. He wanted to disappear, run - and never come back.
Only he could not.
Gritting his teeth he grips on the wheel as tears well up in his eyes.
Enduring the sight of them getting closer and closer for past two weeks, thinking it was all an act for this long, thinking Louis was with her all this time because the management demanded... Louis loved him ... he did, right? But how did he move on so soon... how did he choose her so soon? And ... and why did he kiss her in front of Harry so soon?
He could not stop his breath hitching. His heart pained along with his head. His hands were shaking.
He needed to stop... he should not drive like this, even with the security following him from behind, he knew as much.
Turning in to a the first ally he could he stops the vehicle. The street was full... and the clubs were loud and rich around him. Wiping his face with his hands he breaths in deep.
No matter how hard he wanted to believe otherwise, his world was crashing down with betrayal. He had loved Louis...loved him without limits, without spaces, with all his heart and without any thoughts for himself... Loved him like he needed water and air to breathe... still loved him when many around him told him to leave Louis. He still loved him even when Louis turned bitter and bitter, flashing his ego on him. He loved him... understood his frustration and fears when everything was falling down around them. He still loved him even when it was all too much for his soul to cope. And after all that Louis had slapped him right in the face for all that by kissing her in front of him... in front of all his friends while he was watching. Why would he do that? Why? Maybe Louis wanted to embarrass him, hurt him ... for saying the things he did two weeks back, telling him that he had enough... that they should go in their separate ways to secure the future of the band and their careers... And it was the truth, though he hoped deep deep down for Louis to find a way. What did he expect? For Louis to still follow him behind and beg him not to go? persuade him somehow to stay? Like he, Harry had been doing all this time, even when Louis was pushing him around after Douglas...? He, Harry had practically been licking Louis boots for forgiveness all this time, tearing his own ego, taking all the thrash from the management and Louis himself, not listening to anyone who cared enough to tell him that it is not healthy. But after all this, the one time Harry turned away, Louis had given up on him. Louis had cut him loose for him go despite Harry's need to see Louis try and stop him. Louis had just let him go...
With a sickening tug deep inside, Harry gets out of the vehicle. Within a blink the people around seemed to recognize him, flashing the cameras. So he hurries to the first pub he finds with decorated rich doors. Bulky minders at the door lets him in easily... seeming to recognize him. 'Don't let my security in' he blurts at them 'let them rot here' he says with a bitter grin as the men smirk.
He walks in, inhaling the fume of expensive alcohol and everything that makes the night high. Someone escorts him to the bar as the music lasted his ears comfortingly... he needs to get drunk. The dim light was swaying and the colours were floating around. Drunken bodies danced around him like shadows but his eyes keeps flashing him Louis' face... Louis' face and her arms touching him... her slender hands, fingers running through his hair... and he had let her, he had kissed her - same way he used to kiss him...
Three whisky glasses and two cocktails later his head was numb as same as his thoughts - floating just like he wanted. Fuck Grimy for saying Harry should see a therapist. He could cope up without letting the world know that he was going mental. He could do without giving Louis the satisfaction... his knowing smirk and fucking soft blue eyes and -
He was sipping his third cocktail as he realized a change in the air of music... lighter... sadder. The strings of guitar strumming, slow, soft almost wounding.
Wicked games, Chris Isaak... he knows the song, sung in a version between the original and Parra for Cuva version - in a sad crooning voice. He feels like throwing the glass at the man on stage, wanting the him to stop singing... nurturing sadness around when he, Harry was finally feeling fine. He feels disgusted and betrayed. He should leave... get up and walk out but seated almost in the front corner he was easily spottable among the crowd to the stage... if he try to stand everyone will spot him here, drunk and sad with tear cursed eyes. Slowly wiping his face he sits back as the singer, a thin handsome block with long hair and a hat looks at him through the crowd... spots him. His eyes locks on Harry, maybe recognition dragging in to his eyes in a surprise... He should have come across bigger more famous stars than him here for sure... should he be surprised seeing him here... getting wasted like a proper teen pop trash? Harry stares back as the man's too deep eyes looks away as his voice continues to sing.
'.... wanna fall in love.... what a wicked games you play - to make me feel this way.... What a wicked things I do - to make me dream of you...'
Bitterness... that was what Harry feels... as he smiles to himself, tears streaming down his face again. It hurts him ... It hurts him like burning. Louis... always Louis... His stomach churns unhappily. Louis had fucked him over... and the management ... and Eleanor... Eleanor with Louis... they all had fucked him to pieces.
As the crowd applauds for the song ending he dashes to the empty rest rooms with a swaying head, none paying attention to him in their drunken happiness.
He throws up everything, retching while tears pooled down again and again. He can not take this any longer. He knew he had signed the papers with the management but he can not do this... he could not lose him. He was too attached to Louis to lose him... Louis had been his turning wheel, his best friend ... the love of his life... But Louis had just let him go. He had betrayed him after all this time... just after two weeks. The pictures keep flashing on him again... of him and her... her arms around him , holding him. Louis face slowly raising to kiss her, reaching with his tongue... his sweet soft lips which Harry was so used to... Is this how Louis felt hearing about Douglas and him?? Is this why Louis acted like he hated him? Does he hate him? It hurt... It hurt like nothing he ever knew... It hurt like it was burning him alive in hell. He wanted Louis... he wanted Louis to hug him, comfort him... He missed him... he missed his face - handsome but damning , his voice- soft but loud and cutting, his smell - mix of fresh cologne and weed and smoke - all in one... he missed his eyes on him... his lips... his impatient, familiar lips on his skin - cool and soft ...he craved his touch... the touch he was too used to all this time like an imprint in his skin, demanding yet comforting - like he knew exactly how to touch him, breathe him, love him. But what haunts him is their very last time where Louis drunkenly fucked him to the bed rough and raw... as if he was punishing him for Douglas.
Cutting his panting breaths he opens the tap full, splashing water all over his face. He grips on the sink with the shaking hands and gazes at his own reflexion. Reddened blotchy eyes and clammed skin with wet dripping hair... he looked sick and drunk... grief stricken and damned... ruined. Maybe Grimy was right... he was going fucking mental. Maybe he should find a freaking therapist. Go to sessions weekly and admit he is fucking mental and weak. He will be on laughing stock... No ... No ... he needed to get it out of his system... he needed to fucking erase Louis' imprint on his fucking skin. Maybe what he really want is to some one to fuck him out of it... hold him down and fuck him out of his life like Louis did the last time.... He presses his brow to his own reflexion in the mirror with slightly shaking shoulders. Why would not everything fucking disappear... the contracts, Simon, Magee, Douglas, Grimy, Eleanor, Media and fans... his fucking money... would they able sue him if he did not have any money? He presses his head harder and harder as the flashes of Louis and Eleanor floated in his head. Why ... why... fucking why did he agree to any of it. Why wasn't Louis here with him now? where is Louis when he need him the most?
Then suddenly a sound from the back stills him, startling him as someone opens the door from behind. Controlling himself he waits, not moving hoping who ever came in would go after using the loo or whatever he came in for. He waits, pressing still pressing his head to the mirror until,
'You are Harry Styles' a voice says from the back.
Slowly straightening up, Harry opens the tap again and washes his face, hoping the stranger would fuck off. But when he turns wiping his face off the towel the stranger was still there. Long hair, dark plaid shirt...tall lean frame and brown darken eyes, it was the same man who was singing with a guitar before.
'yeah...' he says pressing everything down inside with a sigh 'Chris Isaak, good song'
The man stares at him almost if he's startled. 'You OK?'
'Yeah... yeah... had a bit of umm... I had bit too much but I'm good' he says despite the fact that his vision was slightly doubling. Wishing the man would just leave him alone he takes out his phone which had been vibrating every now and then silently in his pocket. He does not really want to check it but he could not pretend otherwise.
Calls and messages from Paul, Grimy, Liam, Zay-
'You don't remember me, do you?'
With a groggy head Harry looks up... the man was still staring at him almost intensely. 'I was... I was in Xfactor..'
Harry just sniffs questioningly not wanting to talk.
'I was in X factor with you,.. I ... I - until the live segments...'
'I'm sorry I don't-'
'I'm Danny... Danny Ray' the man says slight disappointment visible in his eyes. 'I played the guitar. We sang once... Niall was playing the guitar with me - you and Louis made everyone sing Valar-'
Sweeping his eyes with shaky fingers Harry steps near the man, 'I'm sorry. Not ... I'm late. Not a good time for-'
But the man cuts him as if he was not aware of Harry speaking,
'You'll have become so big and successful and I'm glad it all worked out because- S- Simon said you lot are going to win the whole thing. One can only dream about a opportunity like that b-but you five made it all to the top with every fucking thing you wanted, and-'
He goes on eyeing him unblinkingly, almost as if he always wanted to say this to someone... as if anyone was not listening all along.
Harry feels dizzy and puckish... hearing it all like some fairy-tale when in truth it was all a well amended joke.
'Danny' he mumbles as the man stops hearing Harry say his name - and stares at him again looking out of breath. 'Can you help me to get out of here without notifying my security?'
He did not know why he was asking this of this seemingly weird man but he wanted to stop him speaking - distract him from staring at him like some awed object he found laying on the floor- and mostly he wanted to skip Paul who was waiting to take him to the hotel which Louis will be sleeping with his little so called girlfriend. The man nods, almost too enthusiastically. He lets the man, Danny take him out from the back door and jumps in to a taxi dragging him with him. Danny almost looks surprised and overjoyed which makes Harry laugh despite his pounding head. With a still dizzy head he leans back feeling numb and lost again, eyes closed.
'Why are you running from the security?' Danny asks after awhile as they drive along the London streets. Opening his eyes Harry wipes away stray hairs from his face. He meet Danny's wide eyes on him and feels as if he had been staring at him all this time. '
No particular reason...' he says casually.
Danny's eyes follows his hand and he feels suddenly awkward. What is he doing? Why was he in a car with this unknown man?
'Is that a Rolex?' Danny asks eyes fixed on Harry's wrist.
Harry just looks at the man sideways, covering his watch with the other hand. 'yeah' he could not keep the slight irritation out f his voice this time.
'I'm ... I'm sorry - I ... it is just I've ne-never seen a o-one before- ' Danny starts babbling, as if he was scared he had offended Harry.
'That's OK... I'm just tired... just... here if you want to look' Unbuckling the watch from the wrist he just holds it up for the man. The fucking watch Louis had picked out of the two Harry had hard time selecting from few months before.
'Suits your lean bony arm, Harold' Louis had said aloud giving a cheeky wink to the sales woman after whispering 'I won't take it out from your wrist the next time I'm going to tie you up naked coz you look too sexy and sophisticated wearing it' to his ear. Red and rolling eyes Harry had pushed him away faking to be annoyed, but had ended up buying it in the end. And Louis had kept to his word no more than two days later...
He bites his lip and leans back with closed eyes as Danny puts the watch back around his wrist. He feels the man's fingers linger, sweeping on his skin but he just ignores it feeling numb.
As the car stops in the hotel he requested, Harry gets down paying the driver without any comments. Danny gets the keys from the counter for the luxury room he had volunteered to book under his name on the way. It was past mid night, everyone seemed to be asleep... Harry does not say a word when Danny follows him along the lavish, empty corridors... nor he utters a sound when he feels Danny's edgy hands on his waist as he opens the door to the room.
Does this man think Harry picked him at the club? Did he? He really did not care. It was better than being thrashed alone in a dead ass hotel room with cold sheets to speak with. He knew he is being fucking reckless but he did not care. Walking near the plush white and beige comfortable bed, he lets the man remove his court. He exhales deep trying to feel something, anything other than the aching of his heart as the man rubs and massages his neck with his lean but strong hands. Louis has always had strong hands... though they looked smaller. But he was always soft with touches when it came to Harry. Careful and soft... strong , yes but consciously soft. Swallowing the tightness in his throat Harry turns to face the man who still has an unbelieving, awed expression in his face. He was sure the man was taking him for a pathetic rich fool... which he was. Ignoring the man's gaze he moves to unbutton the plaid shirt he was wearing revealing thin lean bony body and abs.... so deferent to Louis soft lightly curvy form. The man watches him almost curious and in a wonder. And Harry looks at the strange man and his exited eyes, his waves of shoulder length hair...realizing he is as far as he is from Louis now .
'Fuck me' he mumbles laying his hand with the watch-ed wrist on Danny's bare chest. His fingers shake unnecessarily...
As it was an invitation he had been waiting for, Danny's taller form takes him, kisses him breathlessly.. tearing his shirt off him and running his hands all over. And Harry kisses him back with desperation, pain and stinging he feels. He craves to feel consumed, filled and be wrecked completely as memories keeps flashing on him- of Louis, of the way Louis had held him... the way he always held him... Louis' anger, suspicions - fear that Harry would leave him... Douglas - Harry's own fucking mistakes... hurt and tearing words. Management, Simon ... the contract. Eleanor... and Louis kissing her just about an hour before, letting everyone know... everyone ... to see that they are done...
He lets him to be taken to the bed, responding eagerly bitterly and feverishly to each touch, each breath, driving the man crazy - making him go out of control... giving it all he could. Louis had taught him well enough to fuck, at least.
He thinks as he laughs hurtfully in the end as the man collapses on top of him.
Early next morning, Harry calls Paul before the man wakes up. He gives Paul the address to pick him up and leaves the room before the man wakes up. Harry doesn't think he could endure the sight of the man's face. Not without breaking down. Not anymore.
Only he does, as he gets in to the SUV with Paul. The man probably followed him without him knowing, desperate enough to come out with only his trousers. Harry doesn't ask Paul to stop, nor he feels remorse at the way the man looks at the passing vehicle, eyes wide and sad - as if he just dropped and broke something he loved.
2016 January/ Present day - LA
Track 03 - How Deep is Your Love
The upbeat music blasting the bumping club slowly syncs to a bass filled thumping...
He knows this track... is sounds familiar ... he remembers as he walks passing the swaying bodies. He had heard it before, somewhere.
(How deep is your love?) ... from a DJ, what was his name? should he remember? The bass keep thumping with a techno mix in an heartfelt rhythm. The female voice singing voice creeps in to his senses - probing him...
He keeps walking towards the swaying, grooving bodies - lost in the addicting tune, drunk and half mindful to everything in the binding high. The dim red light touches his skin, attaching him to the slow moving time in the swaying floor. He gets pushed back, hit by rhythm-drunk bodies... and pulled forward. How deep? Is it deep enough? the female voice probes, questions him... it feels like an allegation - demanding him, persuading him ... to feel
That one name keeps buzzing in his year in between, freezing him, paining him. He could hear them talking - of him - of Louis... he's going to be here. He's going to come. Harry knew, he heard them talk. And he needed to in-hear it. Forget it. No... he can't be here, not here.
Hands around him touches him, making him sway along with the crowd. And it distracts him. Good. Very good. Right? He dives right in to the sensations. A woman starts wrapping her hands around him...flickering inviting eyes to his, looks in to his eyes. She wanted him to hold her, take her, taste her. But no... he can't. Not today. He wanted someone to hold him, take him. He wanted to give in to someone else - if he could. He just breaths, stepping away slowly. She lets him go. He steps deeper and deeper in to the crowed, bodies dragging along his. Hands roam, drunk and high around him. He lets them... feeling drunk himself.
He lets him get lost in the tune... closed eyes ... swaying to the rhythm... ignoring the bodies slithering along him time to time, wrapping around him. He lets them without giving in to respond, high in the smell of booze, sweat and expensive perfume.
He sways with it... track after track... beat after beat...until someone clutches from the back, pressing him smoothly, demandingly.
Hands run through his body confident and strong... they roam freely everywhere sinfully without care. He lets them. His heart raises but he moves, un-missable hardness pressing on his back. He pushes him to endure. Strong hands turns him around then, revealing a set of brown eyes and blond hair.
The man pulls him forward catching his lips with his... running his wild hands through his hair... tugging and impatient.
He lets him be kissed... breathing shakily... his insides were screaming but he lets the man kiss him... deeper and deeper...as his heart hammers inside and his breath hitches with rising panic. Hands keep roaming all over him, pressing him harder and harder. Then the kiss breaks leaving them panting as the man eyes him wildly, almost gasping for breath.
His knees buckles in protest but he pressures himself... holding the man from shoulders he drags his tongue along the man's upper lip , to encourage him. And he succeeds.
"Fucking hell" the man curses "Aren't you a wild thing" he mumbles starting to drag him through the crowd... he complies, following the lead.
The man takes him to the edge of the wild swaying crowd and pushes him to the wall, staring at him - as if drinking the sight of him. Harry feels feverish and shivering. But despite it all he smiles eyes closing.
"What a sight" says the man stepping towards him, tracing the swallow tattoo through the thin material "Phew" he whistles "...I got lucky today, didn't I?"
He sweeps his free hand along Harry's jean clad thigh. "Aren't these tight?"
Ghosting his hand over what he seem to think as a semi hardness, the man leans again, capturing the boy's sinful lips with his. He sucks and bites moaning in to he mouth. The kid was asking to be wrecked. There was something familiar about him though... had he seen him somewhere? Nursing the thought, he tugs at the long cascading curls and moves to the neck. He bites on it and the boy shivers with a hiss. The boy's heart was practically thumping with eagerness, he thinks as the boy grips on him.
"I'm going to fuck you so tight right here, little needy hoe" He couldn't help murmuring, "- and I'm going to take you home and fuck you on my table all naked... rough and raw until you're begging from those fuckable lips."
Biting in to the collarbone he unbutton's the sheer sleek shirt without raising his head up. He is about to slide off the sinful material from the perfect shoulders when he suddenly gets thrown away by someone from behind. Barely managing to stand his ground he turns furiously but without a blink he gets punched square in face.
"What the fuc-"
"I'll fucking KILL YOU IF YOU TOUCH HIM!!!" shouts his attacker. A dark haired dude with firing murderous eyes. Someone with a more official cut holds him from the back as the guys tries to rage at him again like a lunatic. "I'll kill you!!" His accent is thick British.
"Easy easy now" The man in the behind probes.
Is he from police? but... what the fuck? "The fuck, he was going along with it. Why-"
"Look at him you fucking prick!!" The angry one spats as the man turns to look at the young man with long hair who he thought would be his nights' end. Hell, the boy looks shaken... horror struck even - shivering and panting, pathetically holding his unbuttoned shirt together as if he had something to hide in his perfectly toned body. He looks as if he is in pain, half sunken to the floor with glassy eyes and panting breaths. Confusion dragging in his face, the man looks at the soft haired, angry one again - and the official looking one who now had released him. Arching his brow he decides to walk away with a last glance at the wild boy who now looked like a beaten up, shivering mess. What a waste, he thinks shaking his head as he goes blending in to the crowd.
Following the disappearing man in the flashing dance floor with his firing eyes, Louis steps closer to the shivering boy, leaving Alex in his stand. He still keeps the distance though with a pounding heart. Louis' eyes gets glassier with tears even without knowing... seeing him like this, seeing him after so long... after what seemed like an eternity. After he left him in the hospital corridor with just a scribbled note...
he could just stare. And green doe eyes returns his gaze with laboured breaths... his knuckles white, gripping in to his own shirt... his black sheer shirt.
His hair is longer than ever, face tensed with fear and pressure, still perfect, still fragile in his own way... looking like some broken angel...
"What are you doing to yourself, Harry?" Louis mumbles brokenly through the still playing music.
Harry just stares, his eyes wide, hesitant and glassy - gulping, he shivers as Louis steps close. His heart raised like a nonstop mortar...seeing him in flesh, here in this moment in front of him. The piercing blue eyes and demanding expression - it was everything he had been running away to hide from.
He feels weaker ad shakier... his breaths were shorter.
It is impossible but he fruitlessly tries to calm himself down - to take some control...and fails miserably and pathetically , as always. His heart hammers and his breath quickens, choking him. His lungs and chest shot in pain...
He gives in then, with a one gasp of breath, letting his weak knees loosen along with the breath he was holding.
He lets himself fall.