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6. Cracked

Author's Note: Happy tenth birthday to Pentatonix! <3

6. Cracked

Scott climbed out of the car last, wanting to kill everyone he was with. He was surprised to look up and see that the last person he expected was waiting for him on the sidewalk.

"When do you get your phone back?" Harry asked as they fell into stride with one another.

The blond shrugged. "When I throw a drunken tantrum in front of everyone here and she feels bad enough for me." He glared at the back of Kirstin's head as they walked. But then his mouth twisted into a smirk. "Just kidding. I'll just ask for it back when we get inside." He looked at Harry and his smile faded a bit, embarrassment taking over. "Sorry if that was awkward, in there."

Harry shook his head. "Don't be. I just wanted to make sure you're okay. They all seemed quick to tell you to stop texting this person, but nobody seemed to care about how you were feeling about it. Whatever 'it' might be," Harry finished.

"They know how I feel. They're trying to make me stop feeling it," Scott replied, and he wondered if Harry noticed that he was already a bit tipsy, having taken a few shots with Mitch in the hotel.

"Trouble in the romance department?" Harry drawled, casually.

Scott laughed rigidly. "Something like that."

"Who was he?"

Scott became uneasy as they approached the entrance. He wondered how Harry knew that it was a man, but then he remembered two things. Scott was certainly not one to hide his sexuality, and Mark had been referred to as "him" in the car.

But Harry was talking to him, and Scott was determined to maintain the momentum of this breakthrough. "My fiancé. He kind of... left me... a few days before we met you guys."

The confession sounded downright pathetic.

"Sorry to hear that, Harry replied, but his voice was drowned out almost completely by the sound of the music as the doors opened. "Shots to numb the pain?" he asked in his ear, sending shivers down Scott's spine.

Shots sounded awfully good, right about now.

He felt like a downright idiot the next morning.

No, he hadn't made too much of a fool of himself the night before. He hadn't confessed his diehard crush on Harry Styles. He hadn't hooked up with anyone. He didn't even fight with Kirstin.

No, he felt like an idiot for thinking that Harry had been this unapproachable man, completely out of his reach. On the contrary, Harry had made sure that Scott felt included and content throughout the entirety of the night. It was sweet.

It gave him butterflies.

Nope... not butterflies.

Nausea.

He ran to the bathroom and made it just in time for his hangover to win.

His head pounded as his phone buzzed on the counter. He looked at the screen.

Five notifications from Mark from last night were still sitting at the bottom of his home screen. He took a deep breath, praying that what he would read wouldn't make him sick again.

Marky: I haven't really been able to sleep without you next to me

Marky: and Bubba waits by the front door for you every night while I make dinner. He was whining so loudly last night that the neighbors called me to complain