Chasing Empty Spaces

Chapter 4

Harry did his best not to snort that his father was simply attempting to save face.

"So," Harry cleared his throat, "Is it alright if I go?"

Robin jerked his head and lifted his cigar, "Go ahead." He winked and fake-whispered, "I caught a few birds the first time I made it to Atlanta." Robin cocked his head to the side, "Make me proud, son."

Not bothering to explain to his father that there was absolutely no chance of him picking up a woman, Harry gave a slightly disjointed salute and walked towards the front door. There was a slight niggling feeling inside of his chest at the idea that the other two men might find company in a pretty girl or two during the trip. His hand gripped the doorknob and he pushed the door open with more vigor than necessary.

****

"Guess who I saw makin' rounds out there," Niall drawled out as a form of greeting once Harry made it backstage.

Harry tipped back his scotch, swallowing the tawny liquid before smacking his lips. He shrugged and widened his eyes, silently beckoning Niall to come out with it. Since Harry had met Louis, he started to feel himself pull away from the friendship he had cultivated with Niall. Something seemed unnervingly unauthentic and it was an almost tangible shift inside of his gut. He felt as if he was merely playing a charade during their conversations and for once, Harry allowed himself to crave for the taste of something more.

"Y'know, that pretty little thing that's been chasin' you 'round?"

Beryl irises surged to the forefront of his mind, stinging his synapses with an unnerving force of finality. Blue blended into the course of the Milky Way, swirling in an imperfect imitation of budding seafoam along crashing waves. It was a pigment that plummeted deeper than the ocean itself and rivaled the opalescent glimmer of extraterrestrial constellations.

A roll of nausea plunged his heart into frenetic palpitations as realization placed who the color belonged to.

Harry's throat painfully clenched and he shook his head, sweat budding along the nape of his neck. The empty glass slipped from his limp grip and clashed against wooden floorboards. Blood rushed to his ears, painting his hearing in a roaring veil of discombobulation. Niall gaped at him in disbelief before he promptly rattled off a slew of verbalization. Harry watched the other man's mouth form words, but he couldn't register a single one of them.

His eyes pinched shut and a helpless mewl nearly poured from his lips as Louis' face materialized behind his eyelids. Ragged breaths mimicked the jagged pieces of glass along the ground; broken and irrevocably shattered. Bodies were shuffling around him to clean the broken glass, but he was the one that truly needed to be tended to. Harry felt as if he was mutedly suffocating inside of the turbulent stars that had offered solace a mere moment prior.

Niall kneeled down to pick up shards of glass and disbelievingly panted, "Christ, Harry, Faye ain't bad enough to go an' smash the good glasses."

"I -"

"You gotta man up sooner or later, pal," Niall barreled on, chucking the shards into a nearby bin.

Harry scrubbed a palm over his face, wiping away a layer of sheen. He barely gasped out, "I need air," before he pushed his way through other musicians.

Niall's voice boomed from behind him, "Better be back an' right in twenty, Styles!"

He waved a hand over his shoulder and darted from behind the thick curtain. The compilation of conversations from the club's patrons filled his ears, shooting his pulse to a nearly manic rate. Harry's fingers were violently trembling as he blindly weaved through the crowd. A slender hand gripped the sleeve of his jacket and Harry nearly threw his elbow back into the other person, partially expecting it to be Faye.