Dream Writer » Larry AU

46: BONFIRE

A/N: Time for a Harry flashback. This explains why Harry eventually broke up with Zayn.

Harry,

Summer was fading, and the heart of the sky erupted in a hue of princeton orange, which was being sprinkled by the sparks that burst from the spirited bonfire. The atmosphere of the seashore had been overtaken by the warm sky, its dusk emitting onto the pale beach.

Cluttered chatter that my ears barely picked up on drowned the faint rocky tune coming from the few portable speakers by the loungers when my boyfriend and I strutted down to near the bustling marine waves.

Zayn had his strong arm flung around my lean shoulder. "Want another drink, kitten?"

"I-I dunno," I stuttered, nearly stumbling over my own footing. It made me giggle. "I'm clumsy."

The dark-haired one pressed his cup to my smiling lip. "Here," he urged. "Drink up."

So, I gulped down the remaining swig. "This is stingy," I winced, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "Zaynie, I wanna meet your friends."

"You can't," my partner forbid me.

"But Zayn," I drawled, pouting excessively. "Pwease! I really want to."

The boy was just about to contradict when an older fellow clashed into his shoulder, patting it after to show good will. The man, whose eyes were strikingly ice-blue, saluted him with a simple greeting gesture before letting his field of vision settle over me. And his pupils hungrily dilated.

"Who's this minx?" he chirped.

"Hey," Zayn warned, having acknowledged the thirst in the newly approached man's gaze. "He's with me."

"Easy, dude." The guy playfully knocked his friend's collarbone, which made him drop his arm around my frame. "You got him baked. What d'you expect?"

Baked?

As a result, my boyfriend neglectfully paced backwards and let his companion take over to settle his cold hands on my slim waist. The guy, whose breath oozed with reek, had a sinister smile present on his face when let it near mine, licking his cracked lips as he examined my face.

"Well, aren't you a pretty little thing?" he gushed.

My wild eyes were searching for my partner's when I gulped anxiously. "Zayn," I mumbled, but the stranger put a finger to my moving lips.

"You're with me now."

My black-haired boy was occasionally observing us from afar, lighting a cigarette that later hung from his lip when he so carelessly watched me long after him with my panicky eyes. He adjusted the killing fag between his knuckles, inhaled and let his stony eyes soar away from the scene.

It was then that I started tearing up, interiorly bleeding at the sight of him.

The older boy was moving a hand to my cheek. "Forget about him," he urged. "I'll make you feel good."

It wasn't hard to tell that I was terrified of what would happen next. "I-I don't-I don't wanna..."

Just as the guy grew more aggressive, I looked over at my smoking escort whose hand had then moved onto another man that had approached him with a drink. It was taunting, how he took a swig from his cup and gave me a daring glance before grabbing the menace by the neck and pulling him in for a smoggy kiss.