Liberate • Harry Styles

twenty four.

"I have to find him, Louis. Is there anywhere you'd think to look?" I ran my hands through my hair and tugged at the roots. I felt anxious, to say the least.

"Liam and I will take the bars. You try looking here." Louis scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to me. It was an address.

"What is this?"

"Harry used to have a place in most major cities where he could let out his anger. Since you, he hasn't really needed them. But I have a feeling you might find him here."

I nodded, barely able to think straight. I dialled a car rental company, and within twenty minutes they had a car outside. I barely paid attention to the quality of the Audi as I floored the gas, plugging the address into the GPS while I was driving.

Fifteen minutes later, I arrived at a sketchy looking building, decrepit posters hanging off the sides and empty beer cans littering the alley. I turned off the ignition and sat in the car for a minute, finally realizing it was stupid. I shouldn't be scared to go somewhere if it could possibly save Harry.

I got out of the car and ran across the road, running round back to find cement stairs leading up to a steel door. Loud rap music thudded through the sturdy door and only increased in volume when I opened it, slipping inside.

A small dark alcove greeted me, showing no signs of it being daytime outside. A large, burly man stood in front of another door, a small window at the top showing flashing multicoloured lights.

"Can I help you?" The man asked in a rough voice, his eyes not visible behind his dark sunglasses.

"How much to get in?" I asked, raising my eyebrow and standing straight. I tried to look as intimidating as I could.

"Pretty girl like you? On the house." There was a small break in his statue-like form - a small smirk. He reached his arm out his side and opened the door, and I gave him a nod. The building looked to be only half full, seeing as it was almost four.

The loud music filled my ears and the bright lights filled my eyes. I could make out the silhouettes of dancing figures, grinding closely on each other like that old movie Dirty Dancing. Smoke filled the air and was soon followed by the smell of weed.

I held my hand strong to my side, trying to control the addictive twitch of my fingers from the cigarette smoke. I wanted to smoke one of those stupid dirty cigarettes so bad, I felt ashamed of myself.

"Hey hot stuff." A thin, tall man with greasy hair approached me as. Tattoos covered most of his body and reached up his neck. He offered me a cigarette, as if reading my mind. "Want a drag? Or a dance?"

"No thank you." I said with disgust. I turned away from him, making my way through the crowd of people. They were all similarly tattooed, all high, and all gross.

I found myself at the back of the club, where a long bar stretched across the width of the building. My eyes found a hunched over figure, curly hair in disarray.

Harry.

He was smoking from a large glass pipe, and it looked to be a shisha machine. He took a momentary break and grabbed a drink from a glass beside him. He downed the amber liquid and took another drag from the machine. I watched in shock as a short girl with piercings approached him, caressing his shoulder. He gave her no attention, simply a nod and returned to his now-full glass of alcohol.

Harry seemed to notice my presence as I stood there staring at him. He looked over his shoulder, his dark eyes flashing with recognition. He slid off the chair, elbowing his way through the crowds of people. I followed him, keeping an eye on the black back of his tee-shirt. We ended up in a long hallway, burgundy wallpaper only slightly illuminated by the dirty lights on the walls.