Harry: “You know what, fuck off Harry” you shout, hurling the glass vase on the table towards his head before turning on our heels. You don’t wait to see if the vase has caused any physical damage to Harry, you just wrench the front door open and storm out onto the street. Glancing around, you wrap your arms around yourself in the cold night air and hurry off down the street before Harry can follow. You wonder about Time Square before taking off down 45th street to end up on Broadway. When you can walk no further you collapse onto the curb and burry your face in your hands against your knees and cry. “Are you alright miss?” you hear a voice question and you look up to find a dark haired man standing beside you on the curb you’d taken up residence on. “Yeah… no” you correct with a watery smile, using the sleeve of your sweater to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “Here, come inside with me… it’s freezing out you, you must be freezing” he says, wrapping his thick coat around your shoulders before helping you stand. You’re about to remark on him being a stranger when you get a better look at him and your heart stutters in your chest and it’s not because you’re cold. “I’m going to assume that you’re not a serial killer Darren Criss” your teeth chatter and he gives you a warm smile before hurrying you into the building behind him. He gives the older man at the door a smile before he’s leading you down narrow hallways before opening a door to a dark room and ushers you inside. The lights cut on and you see you’re in his dressing room, pictures of him in character as J. Pierrepont Finch and he sits you down on the couch before setting about fixing coffee. “Now, why is such a pretty thing like you out on the streets alone?” he questions, leaning back against his vanity table and you shrug. “Maybe I’m a prostitute” you offer and he chuckles, looking to his feet before he looks back to your tear stained face. “Maybe you’re just dating the most famous guy in the world” he counters and you sigh. “Maybe, the most famous guy in the world is a complete asshole who’s trying to tell me he didn’t cheat despite there being overwhelming amounts of evidence that he has” you admit, looking to the mug in your hands and he’s silent. “Maybe, you’re just dating the wrong guy?” he questions and you ponder his statement while he takes a seat on the other end of the couch. “Maybe” you sigh, looking to your phone, which is blowing up with texts and phone calls from Harry and the rest of the band. “You could stay with me for the night then go back in the morning and deal with everything” Darren offers and you nod before shutting your phone off and leave it behind in the dressing room. A few hours later you find yourself on your back, beneath a nearly naked Darren Criss and he pauses. “Are you sure about this?” he questions, pushing back strands of your wayward hair and you look up at him. You give him a slow, sure nod and then he presses another kiss to your lips and you forget that you don’t belong in his bed. His kisses and touches are softer than Harry’s, calloused fingers mapping out lines and paths on your body that his lips follow. When he finally enters you, it’s with a condom and that’s a strange sensation because Harry rarely protects either one of you from possible pregnancy or disease. Darren’s thrust are gentle but with purpose, slow but passionate. Darren drags out the tightening feeling in your stomach, shifting his thrusts when you need to orgasm until you’re begging for release, any kind of release. “Patience” he chuckles against your collarbone and you groan. It’s afterwards, when he’s disposed of the used condom and fast asleep beside you, when you start to feel guilt seeping into your bones. You start to panic, anxiety taking up space in your mind and heart and you quickly redress and leave. You can’t seem to catch your breath and by the time you get back to the hotel, your phone is still in Broadway dressing room of the man you’d cheated with. Harry is waiting when you get back, sitting on the edge of the bed silently while staring through the glowing TV, and he barely chances a glance to your shaking body. “Are you ok?” he questions simply, eyes scanning you and you note how they stop on the mark Darren had left behind on your collar but he ignores it. You nod silently and he stares at you for a second. “Do you love me?” he questions and at your nod, he lets out a sigh of relief. “Let’s go to bed” he demands softly, making his way to his side and your feet carry you to his bed but you stop before climbing in beside him. ‘Don’t… tonight never happened. Whatever happened… it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t count. Tomorrow, you’re mine and only mine again” Harry whispers into the dark room and you wipe at the tears spilling down your cheeks and crawl in beside him.
