Smoke & Mirrors

Harry was drunk. Exceptionally drunk. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this drunk. Okay, maybe his nineteenth birthday when the lads got him a stripper for shits and giggles. He was hammered that night. But he’s sure that tonight he was even a step above that. This time Harry was drinking to forget.

He wanted to forget his friendship with Louis. He wanted to pretend the past four years meant nothing to him. He wanted to forget everything that happened on this tour – the kissing, the touching, the coming. He wanted to forget every bit of it. But most of all he wanted to forget the way Louis made him feel the night Harry ended it all. He wanted to forget the malicious tone in his best mate’s voice. He wanted to forget the way he felt afterward – the way he felt even now, nearly a week later. He wanted the heartbreak to go away – even if it was just for one night.

So Harry was drunk, and he was well on his way to forgetting in a blacked-out haze that he was sure he’d have no recollection of in the morning.

He didn’t know who he was dancing with, let alone where the hell he was in the first place. He was hopping around clubs all night with some of the guys, leeching off their drinks and stealing quick shots while the bartender wasn’t looking. And now he was in the middle of the dance floor in a hot sweaty club, clinging onto whoever wanted to dance in his space. He didn’t care who it was – guy or girl. He never much cared ever, really. He just relished in the human form.

Harry slipped his hands through his wild curls, pushing them out of his face so he could try to focus on the person in front of him. He strained a bit, trying to see them through the dimness. And when he realized it was Perrie, Zayn’s fiancée, he less than gracefully stumbled backward into the person behind him. Wasn’t this what he was trying to avoid with Louis? He didn’t want to get with anyone who was taken. Not that he’d ever have eyes for one of his mate’s girls, but this seemed a bit too close for comfort.

“You alright, mate?” Harry heard Zayn ask him over the loud music.

Harry turned his head quickly to find it was Zayn who he’d bumped into previously. His entire body relaxed again, realizing he was dancing with the both of them all along – his memories coming back in quick little blurs.

“Perfect,” Harry smiled at him and continued dancing the way he was before.

A little while later, Harry found himself standing outside the club with Zayn while he smoked a cigarette. Harry was buckled over, his butt against the brick wall, trying to fight the urge to vomit all over the sidewalk. He had a ridiculous amount of alcohol and not much else to eat all night. He knew it was a bad idea – this whole night was a bad idea, but he didn’t much care. He was spiraling all week long and needed to blow off a little steam.

“Are you about to blow chunks, mate?” Zayn asked.

“Nah. Tryin’ to keep from blowing chunks,” Harry replied, taking a deep breath and letting it out hard. He stood up straight a moment later, leaning his back against the wall.

“You’ve had loads to drink tonight,” Zayn pointed out as if Harry didn’t already know.

“Yeah,” is all Harry could muster in reply.

“You okay?” Zayn questioned.

“Fine,” Harry told him.

“No. I really mean it, Haz. Are you alright?” Zayn asked, and Harry finally looked up into his eyes.

“Not really,” Harry admitted, shaking his head lightly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Zayn asked as he took another drag of his cigarette.

“Not really,” Harry told him truthfully.

“It’s about you and Louis, innit?” He asked, and Harry knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid this conversation even if he tried.

“Sure is, mate,” Harry said bitterly, pushing away from the wall and kicking his foot across the pavement.

“You can tell me, you know that right? I love you both. But I can be objective. I will listen,” Zayn told him.

“Fuck,” Harry breathed, knowing how useful it would be to get it off his chest instead of bottling it up like he was doing for nearly a week now.

“You can tell me,” Zayn reminded him again.

“Long story short, Louis and I were fooling around with each other – like not just fooling around like we’re mates – like fooling around like fooling around…” Harry began.

“I get it, Haz. And I figured as much,” Zayn said, smirking at him.

“Well, I mean… it was all well and good except when Louis didn’t want it to be. When he got freaked out about something, it was like World War fucking III between us,” Harry continued.

“I recall,” Zayn said, nodding.

“I never know what he’s thinking, or why sometimes everything is okay and sometimes it’s drastically not,” Harry went on.

“Like now,” Zayn chimed in.

“Like now. Definitely like now,” Harry grumbled, raking his fingers through his hair.

“What happened?” Zayn asked carefully.

“I-I told him… I mean, he’s cheating on Eleanor. Everything was well and good but that, you know. I brought it up… that it wasn’t a good idea maybe that we were doing this behind her back and he nearly lost it on me. Everything has gone completely pear-shaped ever since,” Harry finished, resting against the wall again because he wasn’t sure he could hold himself up any longer without completely biting it on the pavement.

“Rough. That’s rough, mate,” Zayn said, shaking his head as he threw his cigarette butt against the pavement and stomped it out with the bottom of his boot.

“I was trying to do the right thing. I was being a good guy about it—” Harry continued.

“I get it, mate. I totally get it,” Zayn said, trying to reassure him.

“Where have you blokes been!?” Liam cried out as he turned the corner to meet them, seemingly out of nowhere.

Harry and Zayn’s attention snapped to their mate straightaway. Liam was obviously drunk, which was quite the rare occasion. He never truly lets himself loose when all the lads go out. But tonight seemed to be an exception for him.

“The rest of the blokes just got here and we’re doing shots. You all in or what?” Liam asked, looking at both of them hopefully.

“I’m in!” Harry called out, forgetting almost immediately what he was just talking to Zayn about.

“Yeah, count me in,” Zayn chimed in, following in after the other two.

When they reached the bar, Harry’s body stiffened immediately, realizing who else joined the party. None other than Louis Tomlinson himself.

“You okay, mate?” He heard Zayn whisper in his ear.

“Perfect,” Harry answered for the second time that night, although that time he didn’t mean it one bit.

Liam handed Harry a double shot glass filled with some sort of dark liquid. He immediately placed it to his lips, leaning his head back to empty it down his throat.

“Hazza! You’re supposed to wait till we’ve all gotten our shots ready!” Liam scolded him a second later.

“Sorry,” Harry laughed out loud, handing the empty shot glass back to Liam. Within seconds, another shot was thrust into Harry’s hand.

“Cheers,” Harry smirked widely back at Josh who’d just given him his new shot.

“Cheers, mate,” Josh said, smiling back at him.

Harry didn’t even pay attention to what the other blokes said as they toast the shot. All he could seem to focus on was Louis standing right behind Josh. To Harry he seemed okay – unaffected even, like he meant nothing to him in the end anyway. Just a means to get off. It only fueled Harry further. He downed the shot in his hand, once again without waiting for the rest of the group.

They all cheered a few seconds later and Harry watched as they all took their own shots. All he could feel was bitterness in Louis’ presence, so he spun on his heels and headed back out to the dance floor.

This time he knew he was dancing with a stranger, someone he truly wouldn’t remember in the morning. She had long dark brown hair and an eyebrow piercing. That’s all he could seem to focus on as they danced incredibly close to one another – so close that he could feel the dampness of her skin on his as they moved to the beat of the music. She seemed to move well, which Harry appreciated because in all honesty he wasn’t quite sure what he was doing. Dancing wasn’t exactly his thing – not with his long skinny limbs and large feet which sometimes made him feel like a baby deer learning how to walk. But he was a creature of adaption and he learned to match his partner beat for beat, which was his only saving grace.

He didn’t know how long he’d been dancing. His mind felt like mush. But he was breathless and parched and didn’t quite know how he was still standing after the amount of alcohol he’d consumed. He looked around to try and right himself – to try and maybe find a familiar face, all the while still moving his body with the dark-haired girl. It was then that his eyes caught on a figure in the distance.

The blue stare.

Harry’s heart began to pound heavily in his chest as he stumbled a bit on his feet. He swallowed hard as he looked down at the girl and then back up at Louis, who hadn’t looked away even when he noticed Harry staring back. His throat felt like sandpaper, his muscles like jelly. He reached out, gripping onto the girls hips, only because he knew he was about to lose his footing if he didn’t.

The girl seemed to appreciate it as she wrapped her arms around Harry’s shoulders, nuzzling her nose against his jaw. It wasn’t what he wanted but when he looked over at Louis again, he noticed the slight glare in his eye and the flare of jealousy that came along with it.

If he meant shit to him, then why did it matter if he was dancing with some girl?

Harry leaned down, looking at the girl, and the girl looked up at him a second later. She really was pretty. Harry could appreciate that much. He watched as her lips moved, but he couldn’t make out the words.

“I can’t hear you, love,” Harry said loud enough for her to hear.

“I said, do you want to get out of here?” The girl said louder.

Harry’s heart pounded even heavier in his chest. He never had this kind of proposition before. He was never in the position for this kind of thing before. He wasn’t one to go out on the pull, and was never on the receiving end of a pull – until now. He smiled widely at her.

“Yeah?” She asked, smiling back at him.

“That’s a helluva an offer,” he told her.

“I know. You’re a helluva guy,” she said in her American accent.

“I’m with my mates though, love,” he told her, knowing he sounded lame but didn’t much care.

“You’re a big boy, right?” She asked, still trying to coax him along.

“I suppose,” he said passively as he smirked at her. She smiled widely back at him, leaning in closer.

Seconds later her mouth was on his, and he didn’t much mind. He was never one to snog on the dance floor, but this girl was making it so damn inviting. He knew he wouldn’t go home with her in the end, but was it so bad to have a bit of fun while he could?

Her fingers curled up in his hair and his grip tightened on her waist, pulling her flush against his body. It was a long time since he kissed a girl and he quite liked it.

It wasn’t until his back hit a wall that he realized they were no longer on the dance floor. His mind was so preoccupied in their impromptu snog that he barely paid attention to his surroundings.

“C’mon,” the girl said as she broke the kiss and tugged on his hand.

He was mindlessly following her seconds later into a dimly lit hallway that led toward the loos. There were people everywhere, but it was all a blur to Harry. His mind was spinning. He vaguely recalled seeing the men’s room sign before the girl was pushing the door open and pushing him into the furthest stall. His reaction time drastically slowed due to the copious amounts of alcohol flowing through his veins and before he knew what was even happening, his trousers were down to his knees and she was down on her own in front of him.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, running his fingers through his hair as her wet warm mouth wrapped around his dick.

It felt good. It definitely did. But his mind wasn’t in it at all. The pleasure skated through him much like a gnawing itch he just couldn’t scratch. All he could think about was the way Louis looked at him from across the room. The jealously, the disappointment. What the hell did he want from him? He felt like he might explode trying to figure out the answer.

“Baby, you okay?” The girl asked him, pumping at his dick with her hand. Looking down, he quickly realized he wasn’t even hard. He barely even had a semi.

He leaned down quickly, pulling up his trousers watching as the girl stumbled to her feet.

“I should go,” Harry said, scrambling to move around her toward the stall door.

He caught the sound of her scoff as he fumbled the door open and fled the bathroom all at once. He was weaving through dancing sweaty bodies a moment later, catching sight of his mate’s in the next. Louis’ eyes penetrated him once again, causing the air to expel from his lungs. Christ. Harry looked away immediately, hating that he felt guilty for what he just did. Even though Louis made it perfectly clear he meant nothing to him when he told him to fuck off a week before.

“I’m ready to go, mate, yeah?” Harry said in Zayn’s ear.

“You cool, man? I saw you out there with that bird. Nice,” Zayn said, smiling widely at Harry.

“Yeah, man, cool. I’m feeling like I’m gonna hurl. You ready?” Harry asked him impatiently.

“Yeah? Alright,” Zayn said, tipping back his glass to down the rest of his beer. A second later Zayn leaned over saying something in Liam’s ear.

“Yeah, you ready?” Liam asked, nodding his head at Zayn.

“Ready,” Zayn confirmed, nodding back.

Harry stumbled outside with Zayn and Perrie a few moments later so Zayn could have a quick ciggy before the vans came to pick them up. Harry felt wrecked in every sense of the word and wished with every part of his being that he was in bed sleeping rather than completely hammered outside of some shit-hole club in some shit-hole town he couldn’t even remember the name of.

“What was her name?” Zayn asked, pulling Harry out of his own head.

“Who’s name?” Harry asked, feeling confused.

“The bird you went into the toilet with,” Zayn said incredulously, laughing at just how drunk Harry was.

“She was pretty,” Perrie chimed in as she stood gripping on to Zayn, his arm draped over her shoulder as he smoked.

“I dunno,” Harry admitted quietly.

“You’re a proper player, mate,” Zayn said, and Harry was just sober enough to realize there was sarcasm threaded throughout Zayn’s words.

“Oi!” Niall exclaimed as he stepped out the club’s door holding a pint of beer in his hand still, even though there was a clear sign that reads: DO NOT BRING DRINKS OUTSIDE OF THE CLUB.

“Drink up, Nialler! Van’s are here!” Liam yelled from behind his mate.

Niall stopped dead in his tracks, tipping the glass to his lips, and downed the entire beer without taking a breath.

“And that’s how an Irishman does it!” Niall said proudly as everyone who filed out on the sidewalk around him cheered in his honor.

“Come on, mate,” Zayn said, poking Harry’s arm.

Harry looked up to see two large black van’s parked in front of them on the curb. He followed behind Zayn and Perrie toward the first van, waiting patiently as they got in, taking up the middle row of seats with Josh. When Harry stepped up to get in, he was once again met with the blue stare. His heart stopped when he realized he was forced to sit next to the one person he was steadily avoiding for nearly a week.

But he was left with no choice, really. He had Sandy behind him pushing him along, and he silently wondered if this was his mates plan all along – to maybe get him and Louis talking again. Harry sat down next to Louis, purposely leaving a space between them. But when Sandy plopped down next to him, he realized his efforts were futile, and smashed up against Louis in the end.

He felt all sorts of awkward and really couldn’t wait to be back at the hotel and out of this fucking torturous hell. He could feel the warmth of Louis’ body radiating on his own. Every time he took a breath he could smell Louis’ scent and memories hit him like waves crashing against the shores. Wasn’t he trying to forget? Wasn’t that the plan all night long? How did this happen? How was this the end-game? Harry was fucked. He really truly was. Louis’ presence was wrecking him. And not in a way he wanted to be wrecked. Because this time it was his heart. His heart was broken because his best friend was no longer his best friend.

He felt the tears as they welled in his eyes. He knew he needed to push them back but he didn’t feel like he had any will power left to do it. He was too drunk and too emotional. It was too fucking much all at once. A massive overload without a kill switch.

“Fuck,” Harry breathed, dropping his face into his hands.

“You okay, mate?” Sandy asked him from his right side. Harry shook his head, but he was almost certain the gesture was wasted on the dark.

“Harry?” Zayn questioned, and Harry realized he was putting too much focus on himself. All he was trying to do was make his tears stop.

“You going to puke?” He heard Josh next.

Harry’s heartbeat sped up and his lungs felt like they might just shrivel up altogether.

“I’m so drunk,” Harry groaned, trying to mask the fact that his emotions were getting the better of him.

“Do we need to pull over? You gonna hurl?” Zayn asked.

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” Harry groaned.

“You sure, mate?” Sandy asked.

“I’m fine,” Harry said again.

“We’re almost there,” he heard Paul say from somewhere in the front of the van.

Harry’s head was spinning, he tried to focus his vision on the shadows that were casting on the floor, but it seemed to only make it all worse. If he closed his eyes it got worse as well. He was shaking and his head was spinning, and he was just so god damn drunk. Why did he think this was a good idea? The end result was just fucked. He could feel Louis next to him. It wasn’t worth it. None of it was worth it.

But then he felt it. He felt Louis’ hand slide up his back. He knew it was Louis’ because he could feel his whole arm on the left side of his body.

Louis.

Harry’s heart nearly burst in his chest. If Louis said he was sorry in that moment Harry would literally cry at his feet and forgive him on the spot. It was then that he realized just how much Louis meant to him. How much Louis’ presence in his life meant to his well-being. He hated this. He hated how it was between them now.

But in this moment, Louis’ hand was sliding smoothly up and down Harry’s back, comforting him. Louis was showing sympathy or empathy or whatever. He was showing signs of camaraderie and Harry was melting. He wished he wasn’t so god damn drunk. He felt that maybe if he were even an inkling in his right mind he might be able to speak to Louis – to maybe salvage what was left between the two of them. But he wasn’t, so he kept his head hung in his hands and let the tears drip out until his stomach turned and his heart was mush.

“Stop the van. I’m gonna puke,” Harry said.

It was the last thing he remembered before waking up half naked in a bed with Louis Tomlinson.

Notes