By: @D1ona30 on AO3
Summary:
There’s something written on the wall, and he can just barely focus on it with the guy on his knees and his lips around his dick but he can read it: “WATCH OUT FOR THE HOMEWRECKER,” written in black sharpie. Harry looks down for a moment and wonders if this is the boy the person was talking about
Chapter 1
Chapter Text
It’s Friday night and Harry is at a club; he doesn’t even remember the club's name, just knows it’s the closest to Nick’s office. Nick was supposed to meet him here over an hour ago and now Harry has downed three shots and on his second cocktail—yeah, so what if he is drinking a bit more than usual, sue him. His boyfriend of a year hadn’t even sent him a text to tell him he was going to be late, Harry can’t help how pissed off he is. Things like this have been increasingly worse with Nick: staying later at work, cancelling their date nights and NOW here Harry is being stood up by his BOYFRIEND, what the actual fuck? Just six months ago they were discussing getting a flat together and what the future might hold (Harry was thinking marriage and kids) and he had thought by now they would be actually living together, but Nick claimed he wanted to wait till his lease was up. Harry could have sworn it was up three months ago. Though he hadn’t confronted Nick about that, he thinks after tonight he fucking will because this shit has got to stop.
He’s sitting at the bar, his empty drink in front of him, and he hasn’t waved down the bartender just yet; he’s too busy staring at his phone. He’d sent a “Where are you?” text about thirty minutes ago and he still hasn’t received a response. He really wants to send a “FUCK YOU!” but can’t bring himself to do it. He knows Nick has seen the text from the “R” next to it but why hasn’t he responded? He is still looking at it and wondering what is going on, when he hears someone hop up onto the stool next to him. Out of the corner of his eye he can see the person’s feet barely manage to reach the bottom rung, toes pointed down to rest on the bar and Harry finds the corner of his lips curving upwards despite his foul mood. His own feet rest comfortably flat against the floor. He looks back at his phone, sighing, setting it down on the bar in front of him, shaking out his curly hair and fixing his fringe. He looks up and though part of him wants to look at the person next to him, he decides he needs a drink first. He’s about to wave down the bartender but he’s already making his way down towards him.
Harry opens his mouth to give his drink order but the bartender bypasses him and stops in front of his stool neighbor. He turns slightly to look at the two of them but his phone vibrates on the bar top and he grabs at it eagerly, pressing the button to light the screen and unlocks it. He can hear the bartender and his stool mate talking to each other and he tunes them out so he can focus on the message in front of him. Harry frowns when he sees it isn’t a text from Nick, but from his mum inviting him and Nick to dinner on Sunday. He is just about to answer, when he realizes someone is speaking to him. He looks over, confused. It’s the person sitting next to him, a guy, a really pretty guy with blue eyes and brown hair that’s been artfully styled, making it look windswept but with soft fringe. Harry would really like to ask him how he did that with is hair, but instead all that comes out is, “Huh?”
“I asked would you like a drink?” the guy, well by his size he could be considered a boy, asks again.
“Um?” Harry isn’t sure how to respond, he does have a boyfriend, a shitty one though he may be, but he does have him and he isn’t entirely comfortable letting someone buy him a drink.
