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7. Through the Dark

7. Through the Dark

The following night was a well-deserved night off, in Harry's opinion.

He had one goal for the evening: To continue to get Scott to warm up to him.

Scott Hoying would be his friend by the end of this tour even if it killed him.

Or, ideally, more than that.

Harry's heart fluttered in his chest at the thought, but he refused to get his hopes up.

Louis' words echoed in his mind.

"Damaged."

They were all getting ready to go out when Harry glanced around Louis' hotel room. Scott hadn't arrived yet, and they were going to be leaving for the club soon.

He excused himself quietly and made his way down the hall, hoping that he had remembered Scott's room number accurately before knocking softly.

"For God's sake, Mitch, I'm fi-," but Scott stopped mid-rant, his puffy eyes widening as realization hit. "Sorry. Hi, Harry."

"Hi. Just wanted to see if you'd be joining us out tonight," Harry replied, feeling uneasy by Scott's clear state of upset.

"Yeah, yeah... I was gonna meet you guys when the cars get here," Scott muttered, his eyes darting around the hall, nervously. Harry didn't miss them well with tears for a moment before Scott blinked them away again.

It was heartbreaking.

Before Harry could talk himself out of it, his hand wrapped around the baritone's bicep and pushed him forward, and Harry shut the door behind him.

He didn't release his grip, but instead, rubbed the blond's arm, up and down, soothingly.

"What is it?" Harry asked, gently.

But Scott shook his head frantically, breathing shallowly, those pretty blue eyes welling with tears again until they spilled over. Before he could turn away from him, Harry decided that this was a perfectly valid reason to invade the man's personal space. He pulled him close to him, wrapping him up tightly in his arms.

Scott was only an inch or two taller, harry noticed fondly. They fit together nicely as he held him.

And Scott's arms wrapped around him in return, clutching onto him as his face tucked itself into the crook of Harry's neck.

Harry almost uttered the words, "You're okay," but bit his tongue. If there was anything that could make things worse when your world is falling apart, it's the words, "It's okay." Because, in reality, in that moment, nothing is okay.

"You're gonna be okay, love," escaped his lips, instead. Because it was the truth. Harry would make sure of that.

He listened as Scott's breathing evened out, trailing his fingertips up and down the taller man's back, and simply waiting patiently.

Scott pulled away, wiping his eyes.

"I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry." He heard the blond mutter as he retrieved his jacket from the bed, shrugging it on.

"What for?" Harry asked, gently.

"I'm so embarrassed. Let's... let's just go..." Scott replied, clearly exasperated.

Harry held up a hand, stopping Scott in his tracks as it made contact with his chest, holding him in place. "You have to stop getting so embarrassed around me," Harry said, looking into his eyes. "You have no reason to feel this way with me. I swear it."