"In London, where the sirens yelp, like a helpless dog, with his paws stepped on"
I'd been slumped with work so, two weeks ago i decided to plan a spontaneous trip to England. So far it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. The city was crowded and dirty, the people were rude and it was fucking freezing. Sure it was amazing to see all the sights, but that only takes two days. Considering I'd come here alone, I was starting to get a bit bored. I was always like this though, I needed adventure in my life. I needed someone who could provide me with the spontaneity that I craved. The sky outside was grey and dull. It was 5pm, and I was bored. I'd been lying on the bed in my apartment for two hours, scrolling endlessly through Facebook, Tumblr and Twitter. I groaned and rolled onto my stomach.
'I should go out and meet people' I thought to myself, as I opened up safari and googled fancy bars and clubs around where I was staying. I hated that I got bored so easily, and I hated that I found it hard to meet new people. Thankfully money wasn't an issue for me, considering I'd been saving for about two years and had gotten a hefty amount from relatives for my 21st birthday only months ago. I scrolled though endless bars and clubs until I found one that looked alright. 'The box'. Fuck it, I may as well go out and have a fun night! I bummed around a bit, wasting time. I went and got some dinner and by the time it was 9pm I was dressed and ready to go. I'd opted for a black leather skirt and a white lace top, with chunky black boots. The cab driver was friendly, making small talk which I barely listened to. I waited in line for half an hour, my enthusiasm starting to dwindle slightly as I waited in the cold. When I finally made it inside, the strong smell of smoke and liquor filled my nose. I breathed it in, it had been a long time since I'd been to a club. People were everywhere, dancing, drinking and laughing. I spotted a few British celebrities in a booth in the corner, but paid no mind to it. I went to the bar and ordered two shots of tequila. May as well go out with a bang. I ignored the sleezy guys coming up to me and telling me how beautiful my Australian accent was. By the time midnight rolled around I was well and truly wasted. I had been dancing and flirting with a couple of guys but I was getting tired. I decided to pop to the loo quickly and then I thought I may as well just head home. I walked through the sticky crowd of people to the toilets, only to find a line almost as long as the one I stood in to get inside. I groaned and cursed myself for leaving the house when I could have been curled up in bed. I noticed out the corner of my eye a sign; 'VIP toilets' with a large burly security man standing outside.
'Better turn on the charm' I thought as I sauntered over, but just before I reached him he got a phone call and walked away. Oh well, may as well just go in. The bathrooms were massive, and nicer than my house. With huge gold framed mirrors above the basins and red velvet couches lining the back wall. Oh, what it must be like to live in this kind of luxury. I barely noticed the large group of people in the corner near the basin, and they definitely didn't notice me, as i quickly snuck into one of the toilet cubicles. I sat and pee'd, swaying slightly as the last shot I had took over my body a little too much. I was pulling my skirt up as I heard a very bitter laugh. In my drunken state I pressed my ear up to the door to listen.
"Oh look at that, the famous little pop star can't handle his coke." A girl spat, her American accent prominent. I wondered who they were talking about.
"Poor, rich little Harry. Slumped on the floor with no one to take care of him" another one cried. They couldn't possibly be talking about who I think they're talking about.. could they?
"Super rich kids with nothing but fake friends" another girl sing sung, causing the whole group to laugh menacingly.
"Let's go," a man's voice interrupted "leave junkie Styles here to clean himself up." I flung my hand to my mouth. Harry Fucking Styles. This can not be happening to me, I have loved him since I was 17. The voices dwindled and I heard the door to the bathroom close.
'What the fuck do I do? I can't just stay in here forever.' I thought, panic rushing through my body. All of a sudden I heard him groan, his body shift and then he threw up.
'Fuck it. He needs help.' I pushed the door open and instantly his head shot around and he stared at me. His eyes were bloodshot and his nose was bleeding, a very different look from the Harry I'd first seen all those years ago.
"Who are you?" his voice catching me off guard.
"I'm Izi." I stated quite simply.
"Why are you here?"
"Because I needed to pee. Are you okay? Do you need help?"
"I don't need anyone's fucking help!" he spat, before leaning forward and vomiting again. My eyes widened at his harsh tone. I wanted to cry for some reason. This was one of the most confronting sights I'd ever witnessed. I knew he'd done drugs, but to see him in a state like this was heartbreaking. I walked to the basin just beside where he was slumped and wet some tissues, squatting down so I was level with his face.
"To me, looks like you need a lot of help." I reached my hand out to him and he flinched, the sad look in his eyes breaking my heart. I gently used the tissue to wipe the blood from his nose. His eyes fluttering shut slightly as he tried to reach into his pocket to get his phone.
"I need to get out of here, I can't do this anymore." He fumbled with his password before unlocking his phone and calling somebody. I sat there in silence as I listened to him talking to who I assumed was a driver or something.
"Thanks." he said, and hung up. "Someone's coming to get me. They're bringing a car round the back. Thanks for your help." he muttered, somehow finding the strength to stand up. He leant against the wall before a knock came on the bathroom door.
"C'min" he shouted, still leaning against the cold tile wall. In walked Preston, one of the boys security guards. I recognized him immediately, handy the things you find out when you're a fan. I didn't know what to do so I just stood there.
"Oh fuck me H, not again." Preston sighed upon seeing the state Harry was in and the bloody tissues on the counter. "You can't keep doing this to yourself mate. You need help." He wandered over and took Harry's arm, putting it around his shoulders so he could carry him out. His eye caught mine.
"Who's this?" he asked cautiously.
"Izi. She helped me." Harry said, his lanky body crumbling weakly in Preston's arms.
"Come on then." It took me a second to realise that Preston was talking to me, as he motioned his head towards the door. I just nodded cautiously and followed them out to the car. No one saw us get in, thankfully. Harry slumped down in the car his head falling into my lap, startling me suddenly but I relaxed and started sub consciously playing with the curls that rested on his forehead. Preston was watching me.
"Are you a fan?" he almost whispered, I nodded in response. "We really need you to not tell anyone about this, he can't have people knowing he gets into this state." His eyes sad as he watched the now unconscious boy.
"I won't say anything. I can promise you that." I said, giving him a genuine smile. He looked relieved.
"Australian I see, what brings you over here?" I chatted with him about my life for a while and he asked for the address of where I was staying. He repeated it to the driver and they dropped me back at the apartment.
"Thank you for helping him. He obviously needed it." Preston said as I gently removed Harry's sleeping head from my lap. I nodded and gave him a slight smile, before I opened the door and headed inside.
It was 2:38am when I got inside my room. I dropped my bag on the floor, kicked off my shoes and sunk down against the door. I was still for a moment before I started to cry. Why? Why did I have to see him in that state? I brought my knees up under my chin and tried to catch my breath. I can't believe that happened. This was the boy I'd loved for five years. The boy who I'd watched on stage countless times. That's not how I had imagined I'd be meeting him. I composed myself and took off my clothes, putting my phone on charge and hopping into bed, small tears still falling from my eyes. I lay my head on the pillow, trying to push away the mental pictures of him that were running through my mind. His eyes, bloodshot and sad. His body, weak and defeated. After a while my eyes got heavy and I slowly drifted off to sleep. It felt like I'd only been asleep for two minutes before I was woken by the loud ring of my doorbell.
YOU ARE READING
Drunk; A Harry Styles Fan FictionFanfiction
"Who are you?" "I'm Izi." "Why are you here?" "Because. Do you need help?" "I don't need anyone's fucking help." ~~ WARNING: Strong language, sex, drug use. NSFW, MA15+