This Thing Upon Me [Order The eBook] [Harry Styles]

Chapter 11

(DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. It's important to remember this is all totally fabricated, embellished, and exaggerated for entertainment purposes.)

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"A week ago you said to me do you believe I'll never be too far? If you're lost just look for me, you'll find me in the region of the summer stars."

Harry | Walking In The Wind

Here the lights were dimmer and the bar was empty. It bore the distinct smell of cigarettes and ammonia and too many warm bodies that were now bygone. An old-fashioned settee upholstered it the same grungy green overlooked the second story balcony from the inside, so it was here we sat, relishing the night breeze and watching the traffic lights turn.

"How's that? Better?"

"Sure." I sighed, setting the bottle of Patron at my foot after refilling our glasses. We toasted to solitude. To peace and quiet. To our acquaintanceship, and to the 'bro-code of confidential inebriation' (as he so graciously put it), before I slumped back in the seat unceremoniously.

"Can I speak frankly?" Joe began.

"Um...sure. Of course."

"You know, Harry..." He ventured, sitting forward with his elbows propped on his knees. "I don't know you very well, but something tells me you're not always this bummed." 

I wasn't surprised he'd noticed. Contrary to what I hoped, the more I drank, the more my mood plummeted. But I refilled our glasses anyway.

"Well, Joe, you'd be right." I conceded.

"What's eating you, kid?" It felt like a scene from a movie. He had just asked the quintessential bar question, and although I wasn't looking to be therapized, a small shriveled part of me wanted to rant to anyone who'd listen. Or at the very least: vent.

"It's just not my night, Joe. Y'know?"

"I hear ya. I've been there."

"Oh yeah?"

"Certainly. We all have." He eyed me in earnest, becoming increasingly concerned. "How'd the show go?" I sat up and mirrored his position, resting my arms on my knees and holding my empty glass between my hands.

"Um...it was good...for the most part. It's what happened after the show that's f—ked me, to put it mildly." We chuckled.

"Do tell."

"Ah, it's a bit dicey." I shook my head, taking another shot. "So...um...you've heard of the band before, right?"

"Here and there. Mostly tonight. It's One...One...?"

"Direction. One Direction...don't even ask me why, mate." I grinned. "Anyway...so there are five of us, right?"

"I see."

"There's Niall. He's just the best in my opinion...and the only one who plays a few chords onstage."

"Some band." He remarked.

"Well, we have these musicians who sort of make up for the rest." I deliberated for a moment, then laughed. "F--ks sake, to be honest they do the heavy lifting...make us sound really good, to be fair. There's: Jon, the keyboardist and music director; Sandy with the bass; Dan with the guitar...and then there's Josh the drummer."