killer instinct - || h.s. ||

08

" at the end of the day, goddammit i'm killin' this shit "

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aurora astor.

I step out of Lou's car, my hood up over my head and I shut the door behind me. I reach into my pocket to pull out my smokes, they get snatched out of my hand faster than I pull them out.

"Hey–" I snap and Jules stuffs them in her pocket as she glares at me, still mad at me for fighting tonight when I'm still sick – not doing any better, if we're being completely honest.

My head feels heavy, like a foggy cloud amid the chaos that normally exists in that prison. My limbs are incredibly sore with a killer ache that radiates along every one of my sinuses.

But I'm high on Tylenol and flu medicine – I'm pretty much thriving right now.

I feel numb but that's nothing new.

I huff at her as I walk in with the both of them, my mask tied around my eyes as we walk across the parking lot here late at night.

Getting over to the bouncer, I hear Lou mutter Styles. I roll my eyes ever so slightly as we head down the stairs and open the door.

Hearing the music fill my ears, I sniffle whilst hardly being able to smell the usual hints of tobacco and weed that exist in this club. The red lights make me blink a few times to adjust as I walk in behind Lou and Jules, my head held up today. I look around at all the bodies dancing and grinding on each other with drinks in their hands in a state of euphoria that can probably only be described as medicine.

I find it fascinatingly weird that this place can transition from a nightclub to an absolute madhouse in a matter of the switching of lights and music.

Earning a few eyes as people recognize me, I stand out with my mask on like this but my hood doing a good job of hiding a majority of my face for now. Jules stays close to Lou and I smile slightly at the both of them, seeing their hands interlocked.

My dreamworld snaps when I slam right into a body that decides to step in front of me and bump my nose into his chest.

The familiar cologne and swallow tattoos peeking out on his collarbone make him instantly recognizable. I scoff and feel a hand grab my arm, starting to pull me backward. I elbow him in the side, hearing his scoff.

"What the fuck did I tell you?" I hear Harry's voice immediately and I scoff as he stops me when I'm away from my friends, too close to me as he leans down to talk to me.

His cold eyes on me as his features are draped in the red light. I take in his outfit, I swear he makes it easy to swoon, with his belted black trousers with those keys clipped on a carabiner to his pants. The short sleeve cream-colored button-down open for all to see. A tight white tank underneath and that goddamn gold cross dangling from his neck. His posture is bad, to begin with, and this only makes it worse as he leans down like this.

"Move." I snap at him, my voice is scratchy from coughing nearly all day yesterday and his eyebrows go up as he scoffs.

"You're actually sick?" He snaps, not concerned but he finds it laughable that I'm even trying to fight tonight. He pulls at my upper arm again in a death grip and I snap my arm out of it in an instant.

"You're gonna get fucking beat tonight." He snaps at me coldly. I let my lips curl up as I pettily shove by him and he scoffs. I walk backward for a few steps, his eyes remain dead set on me.

"Bet against me then," I tell him as his eyes narrow at me. I just turn around and weave my way to get to my friends again at the edge of the fenced-in deathtrap. They look up at me, Jules sighing in relief and I put a smile on my lips as I sniffle.