Damaged » h. styles au

Chapter 61 - Harry

Ps.: Really dialog-y chapter. I'm sorry.

                                                                 61.  

                                                           ●•Harry•●

"Do you even, like, realize we’re here?” Mark asked, gobbling down a mouthful of beer and pushing the empty glass forward on the counter, silently pleading for more as he stared at me in disbelief, an eyebrow raised and an incredulous look being shot towards me. “Styles? Styles- oh, for f–ck’s sake just give me this.”

And then a second later, my phone was gone.

“You’ve got to be sh–tting me, right?” he asked again, scrolling down my screen as I stayed silent, sipping my own beer and looking at Davie over my glass; he was smiling amusedly, but fondly looking at me, and I knew he was on my side. “Okay. That’s it. You’ve got a girl, fine. But don’t know whether you remember, you’ve got friends as well.”

It was my turn to raise eyebrows, gently putting the glass aside and throwing my hands up in the air, in surrender.

“Okay, okay, Nichols. I’m all ears, Christ! You may lay your sh–t on me now. Complain about how awful your day was, how you don’t have Savanna and how her stupid boyfriend won’t let you two be together whilst both me and Davie are very well taken.”

Davie choked on his drink next to me – isn’t he used to this yet? –, laughing awkwardly as he blushed (fiercely, taking into account the fact that I noticed that in the dark), and Mark rolled his eyes, grabbing the now full glass again, which the bartender had just handed him.

“Yeah, yeah. Really funny from where you’re standing, huh? Wanna be on my shoes for a while?” Then he threw his head back again, taking the glass with him and shoving the liquid into his mouth. “Ugh, beer is not even enough. Need something stronger.” He noted, more to himself than to us.

“Getting drunk won’t solve it,” I stated matter-of-factly, shrugging as I stood up and tried to go for my phone. Mark wasn’t willing to give it back anytime soon, though.

“You’re one to tell, aren’t you?” he dared, putting up a half grin that already looked dazed. “Hey, mate, give me the sourest you’ve got there, ‘kay?” Mark was no longer bothering to look at me, just staring at the bartender and playing with the (again) empty glass between his hands, swirling it with his finger placed on its edge.

Still on my feet, I walked over to my grumpy friend, who slightly pulled back when I approached, afraid I might try to get my mobile back again, which I didn’t. Instead, I placed a hand on his shoulder, waiting until he looked up and met my gaze.

“Well, I was one to tell. And that’s why I’m telling you: drinking won’t solve it. And I was serious about the ‘laying all your sh–t on me’ thing, though, y’know?” I assured, smiling. “Mark, you may think I’m a d–ck right now but I’ll still bear with your complaints. You’re my best friend. Swear I haven’t forgotten that.”

He loudly sighed – or at least, I assumed so, since I couldn’t hear him; just paying attention to his chest raising and falling heavily instead. Before he could say anything else, he got the new drink offered to him, not even bothering to ask what it was as he shoved it down his throat just like he’d done all night. His funny expression was brief, and soon enough he was back at looking at me.

“There’s nothing much to complain about, Haz. Just the same, you know? She hates Kyle but her mom is the devil and she can’t leave him without both of them ruining her future and stuff, and I’ve gotta wait until God-knows-when so we can be together. And I’m not even sure it’s gonna happen. She just doesn’t say a thing! It’s like, sometimes I think she likes me too, but sometimes she treats me like a kid! I’m not a kid, Harry!”