Harry's House | night forty
Alcohol can be a plaster
To the pieces of myself.
But a disaster,
when you're desperate for help.
•
k i t c h e n
Harry: (covers food with foil) Saved some leftovers for you, in case you want to stay.
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Harry: (drank too much alcohol/drunk) F*ck you Louis! Another guy tried to pick me up the first night we met and he was Irish. (takes another sip) I should've dated that Irish man instead! Not you, you arse face! F*ck you. F*ck you. F*ck you! An Irish lad is better than a british bloke like you. (takes another sip) We be dancing the jiggy and it'll be fun and Ed Sheeran will play in our wedding and I'm gonna shove our cake up your hole! That Irish man needs to date me! I'll look him up on dating sites. (clears throat/crying) British scumbag! (pauses) well that was racist. Back up. Back up. Toot. Toot. I love Britain! Woooh! Wooh! I have a british accent and I like it. I hate Louis though. He should get thrown to Antartica. I'm Irish now aye! oy! aye! oy! mate! Irish. Poor Antartica will have a piece of trash. (spits out)
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n o t e | and the Irish extra award goes to– drumroll please– you know who he is.
s o n g | Drunk - Ed Sheeran
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Sweet Creature • larry au ✓
FanfictionEvery night he stands in the middle of the road ㅡ I'm only there to pick him up. © DifferentButGood_1D 2017
