Echo Of Us • Zarry

B 2

Harry's 24th birthday comes in a whirl of messages, delivered flowers and friends he hasn't seen in ages. Nick arrives a day before the party, claiming everything is already arranged and all Harry has to do is 'look pretty and get hammered' which is exactly what Harry intends to do.

            The first part of the party, also known as the one where Harry isn't so drunk he can't tell his own name, is great. Nick really outdid himself because firstly, there are no strippers. Secondly, Nick ordered Harry his favourite cake – coconut with vanilla buttercream and strawberries. And thirdly, with each shot of tequila and vodka, Harry forgets more and more about the fact that his heart is still broken, which is, at least for the time being, a positive fact.

            He dances for hours with friends and also with people he barely knows but somehow, they know him. A drink of some kind is always in his hand and he does more shots than he has in ages. After all, it's his birthday and he's heartbroken. This is a cleanse. An alcohol one that will make him hate himself in the morning, but it is one nevertheless.

            After that comes the second part of the party that his friends also refer to as Harry's-gonna-start-crying-or-dancing-on-a-table-any-second-now. Which is ambitiously presumptuous because when has Harry ever done that kind of things? He's never danced on a table, ever in his life. Fine, maybe once or twice, but he wasn't the only one dancing so it doesn't count. And he cries all the time – at adorable commercials, when he watches cute puppy videos for too long and while watching rom-coms. It's just a cheap excuse most likely Nick made up so he can make even more fun of Harry and that's just mean. But Nick is mean. Why is he so mean?

            "Niiiiiick," Harry whines and slightly lifts his head from his crossed forearms. The table is sticky, probably from the drink he spilled about an hour ago and his skin feels disgusting. Everything feels disgusting.

            "What, dear Harold? Want another shot? Or a little bump to get your spirits up?" Nick chirps and starts to massage his neck.

            "No, you monster. I hate you."

            "That's how you treat your best friend that organized this spectacular party for you? I'm afraid that I'm a bit offended by that, mate."

            "You're mean to me."

            "How am I mean to you?"

            Harry lets out a loud whine again. He wants to go to bed. But it's empty and even if he takes Nick with him and forces him to cuddle, it won't be what he wants. He wants to be loved again.

            "I want to be loved again," Harry moans as much. Nick laughs and starts to pet Harry's hair.

            "You are loved, Harold. Look, you've got me, you've got your mum, Gemma, literally hundreds of friends. And if you miss fucking someone I'm sure many would be willing to get naked with you, love." Nick doesn't understand. Of course, he doesn't.

            "I don't want just someone!" Harry huffs exasperatedly. Nick laughs again, throwing his head back.

            "Oh, I know who you want, love. Someone very, very handsome. Great cheekbones, lovely lashes, name starts with a Z." Harry tries to hit Nick's shoulder but he misses and hits the leather seat behind Nick. Defeated, he lowers his head to Nick's shoulder and starts to sob.

            "Why doesn't he love me, Nick?" Harry's words come out muffled, his lips moving uncomfortably against Nick's shirt.

            "I've got no idea, Harold. Sometimes people just aren't meant to be."