Manwhore- Larry Stylinson #wattys2015

Chapter 1

What other choice do you have if you're so afraid to disobey your orders because you don't know what would happen then? What if they'll hurt you because you disobeyed? What will you do then? I simply avoided this option, and obeyed whatever I was told to do, 'cause I didn't want to know what might happen to me if I didn't obey.

I went onto the stage, wearing super- tight clothes that I would obviously have to take off real soon. I stood at the middle of the stage, my legs slightly parted, my hands on my waist. Gay clubs, ugh.

It was clear to me that everyone could see every little detail of my body, but I stopped feeling naked long ago. I didn't show them I had absolutely no interest in what I was doing.

Some loud music started as the guy who's in charge of the shows shouted into the microphone the nickname I got when I started working at gay clubs "Please welcome Harry 'The Stylist' Styles!". The people screamed, and some sentence I always thought was really dumb and pointless was said at the background, as it had every time I preformed "So in, so out, so sexy..." What the hell does that supposed to mean? I thought to myself for the millionth time. Just because my nickname is "The Stylist" doesn't mean I have to get such an idiotic sentence. Without realizing it, I started moving so automatically, I was probably so used to it that the timing of the things sank into my subconscious. Damn it. Seductively taking my shirt off, I pushed away the need to throw up. I walked towards the pole, I hate you I said to the pole in my mind.

I was happy to be over with the show, switching small clothes that barely cover my area.

Now I got to switch into my light- blue sweat pants and white printed jumper I brought with me to keep myself warm on our way to the car and from the car to our house ("our" means me, them, my friends, teenagers who are about to start "working", and the young kids who still cry "mommy" at night. Poor things.), which is frozen anyway.

"Harry!" Vanessa, one of my friends, ran towards me and hugged me tightly "Are you alright?"

"How can I already be?" I asked, all I wanted was to sleep. Sleep and never wake up. or maybe wake up and find out everything was just a bad dream and I don't have to go to those places and undress for people, or other places, where I need to open my legs for people I don't know for money I don't even get half of the amount of.

Not that I wanted the money. Money won't get me freedom. Money won't get me out of these terrible life. Money can't buy happiness. Money can buy drugs... a temporary runaway from thinking of how I'm disgusted with myself...

"No Harry I'm losing you I can't lose you, Harry. I can't lose you!" Her words slowly seeped into my consciousness, I looked up at her, planting a soft kiss on her forehead, and I slowly walked to my mattress, taking my shoes off and cuddling in myself under the blanket, silently crying myself to sleep.

"HARRY! Dammit Harry Styles wake up already you bitch!" It was this yell and a strong slap across my face that made me jump up to sit, looking around at the room full of my friends, and a bunch of  teenagers and little kids who didn't know what to say, and him.

It was silent, no one knew what to say, then only his footsteps echoed around the room and he slammed the door behind him. My friends immediately sat around my sobbing figure, hugging me and not letting me think of how humiliated I felt with their talks that I didn't even understand. Everything was running too fast for me to process, and instead of listening to my friends trying to comfort me, I could only understand the kids' conversation, trying to figure out what "bitch" means.

I dragged my legs to the shower. Standing in the dirty kind of cabin, trying not to freeze under the frozen water running down my body, taking with them dirt down to the hole under me, just between my feet, I took a quick shower, then put on some clothes and joined everyone for breakfast. Despite the shower, I felt dirty, as always. And as always it didn't wash the pain with it.

I tried not to let anyone know I was throwing up before I went to work, but he found out and started slapping my back and banging my forehead against the toilet, then he pulled me away and washed my mouth then tied me to a chair and forced me to eat even though I wasn't hungry.

I wasn't throwing up because of sickness or eating disorders or anything, it was just me. I've got such a weak stomach, that everytime I'm nervous, disgusted or extremely scared, I throw up. And today I had a good reason to throw up. And look pale. Which I was forced to cover up somehow 'cause I can't be seen as if I'm sick, This isn't sexy, and in the world I was forced into, what isn't sexy, isn't selling.

I tried taking deep breaths on our way to some guy's house. I hated this even more than I hated gay clubs. At least there something stays covered. I was cuddled into a ball on the car ride there, outside was freezing, and I was wearing a short-sleeve shirt. I tried stopping myself from shaking. The only thing that prevented it from getting better as I got inside was the recognition of what I'm about to do. The door opened, I got in, was led to the bedroom, lied down on the bed, and from then to the morning all I remembered was throwing up as soon as we arrived back.

A/N

So uhmm... hi :)

This is my new fanfic, I pretty liked its idea, I hope you'll like it too.

So as you can see it's Harry's POV.

Please leave comments and likes, and recommend your friends if you'd like.

Lot of love <3

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