south carolina
july 1990
***
Harry
//
The dream starts how it always does.
That house that I fucking hate is yellow dimmed and the day is Sunday morning when the kitchen always smelt like bacon and coffee. I'm fifteen again, and everything is as it should be.
Time skips and suddenly the dream switches from happy yellow to dark blues and grays.
We're on the freeway, she's driving and everything is okay. Until it isn't. Glass shatters and my whole world is turned upside down in the matter of seconds.
I hear him before I see him. "You stupid piece of shit kid," His voice is loud and shivers run down my spine from the sound of it.
"You're worthless,"
"You're nothing,"
"It should have been you,"
"I fucking hate you."
His hands are around my neck. I can't breathe. He's beating the shit out of me. I've had bruises on me my whole life.
"Harry," Someone is calling but I can't see where it's coming from. "Harry," it says again and this time it rings from all around me, pulling me out.
I gasp awake, sweating and heart pounding. I take in my surroundings. Where the fuck am I?
"Harry?" Her voice calls and everything comes back to me.
Grey eyes are wide and full of concern. Features are soft and her mouth frowns at me. I don't say anything as I stand up from the mattress. Swallowing the burn in my throat, I throw my shirt over my head.
The familiar motel sign glows through the white sheer curtains and the sun hasn't even come up yet.
It was four a.m. and I realize It's a Wednesday. I run my hand down my face, keeping explanations short.
"I gotta go," I stomp on my dirty converse and grab my keys and wallet.
I don't glance at the girl who covers herself with my sheets, her red-yellow hair is a tangled mess of sleep knots coming down over her shoulders. My heart continues to pound as my actions become rushed.
"It's barely morning, where are you going?" She questions. I don't answer. I continued my movement towards the door.
But the girl who isn't supposed to care rushes out in front of me, blocking the door. I don't meet her eyes. "Move," My voice is clipped. I didn't have time for this.
Her hand touches my stomach and I don't mean to flinch away, but I do. "You don't need them, you know." She says stuff about things she doesn't really understand.
I keep her knowing just enough so she doesn't get scared away. I knew it was only a matter of time though.
"You haven't been back in days, you're lighter, you're happier." Her fingers are on my cheekbones and my eyes close shut at her touch.
"Your bruises are fading so you don't need the pills to numb the pain they give to you."
Something inside of me erupts and self destruction takes over. "You're wrong, you've got it all wrong." I shake my head. I meet her eyes.
"My pain isn't gone with the pills, they just make it bearable." I told her. "What, you think you can keep me here? You think you're enough for me to stay?"
Grey eyes and strawberry hair is all it would take but I tell her the opposite. I keep her close enough in case I need her because I'm a selfish fucking bastard. I know she doesn't deserve this but I don't have it in me to stay away from her either.
Vada doesn't say anything, but there's a fire blazing in her eyes and I know my words make her upset. Upset enough to walk over to the nightstand and take the orange pill bottle from inside the drawer.
"All for this, right? This is all you need?" Her eyebrows raise a challenge. I don't move. I don't believe her.
I underestimate her like I always do and before I know what's happening she's running towards the bathroom and I'm chasing after her. I reach out for her ankle as she crawls across the unmade bed but she's too quick.
The bathroom door slams and the lock clicks before I can reach it. My palm slams on the door, fist pounding behind cheap wood that almost cracks underneath my hit.
"Vada," I yell. "quit fucking around," I tell her but she doesn't answer back. She's too quiet behind the door that I'm trying hard not to break down.
"Don't," I yell again before hearing the toilet flush, and I know. I don't mean for rage to take over, but I've never had control before.
I'm screaming her name but she doesn't leave the bathroom. "You're fucking dead, you hear me?" I slam my fist on wood hard enough so it stings. I pound until my knuckles split and there's blood bleeding down my wrists.
"Stop!" She yells behind where I'm beating down.
"Open the goddamn door, right fucking now." There's strain in my voice and I yell like someone who just lost everything. But the determined girl doesn't let up.
"You think you're helping me? You think I can't just get more?" I've stopped pounding but the rage doesn't seize from inside of me.
"You're really kidding yourself if you think that's all it's gonna take. You couldn't help your mom, and you're not gonna help me either you fucking brat."
I don't wait for her response. I move back towards the door with a bleeding fist and slam the door shut behind me.
Rage blinds my mind the whole car ride to the cities. My hands shake on the wheel as the music blasts crazy train from my stereo when I pull up to the place I hate most in the world.
It's been days, and it's like I never left at all.
"Maybe it's not too late, Too learn how to love
And forget how to hate,
Mental wounds not healing
Life's a bitter shame
I'm going off the rails on a crazy train—"
I shut the radio off rummaging through the glove compartment. I search for anything that will get me through this day but only find a half pack of Marlboros. With my pills down the toilet and no other fucking option, I grabbed the whole thing and got out of the car.
"Styles," Robbie yells, and he's the only one I can tolerate in this shit hole. "You're back," his gold tooth shines when he smiles as I approach him sitting at the bar.
The place is empty, only a few die-hards left on the dance floor ending a long night at four in the morning. None of the other guys are here yet but then again I was always the first one to show up.
Sitting on the stool next to him, I put my wallet and keys on the bar counter. "Wouldn't miss pay day, Robbie." I state. "Whiskey, straight" I nod at the bartender.
"Didn't think you were coming back," Robbie says as I down three shots. "Payne almost sent out a search party for his best fighter," he laughs.
"That'll be the day," I shake my head, unconvinced Payne cares anything about my whereabouts. "Where is that fucker anyways?"
"He left a few hours ago. You know him, always on the move." Robbie says as my head pounds from lack of drugs and the morning I've had.
"You look like shit by the way, you get into it with someone outside the ring?" he refers to my hand that beats in pain.
"Yeah, sorta," I reached in my pocket for my pack of smokes "This girl is fuckin' crazy, she knows how to mess with me," I placed a cigarette behind my ear and another one between my lips as I stand up.
Robbie smiles a knowing one. "Sounds like you're in love or some shit," he laughs and I roll my eyes.
"Fuck off," I disagree with the impossible. "I gotta get downstairs, I'll see you Rob," Our hands shake before I head across the building and down the stairs to get to work.
My first collided with the punching bag repeatedly. Cracked knuckles are sore and bleed through the bandages but I barely noticed it. My mind was buzzing with unclear thoughts and my body was shaking from the withdrawal.
I think of her grey eyes and the look she gave me. I think of the words I said to her and the meaning behind them. Fuck. I punched the bag harder this time. Ignoring the sting in my hand and the soreness in my body. I give myself pain in return for my actions.
"You're weak today, Styles," Jay calls, coming up behind me. I punched the bag again. "That's what happens when you take vacations, the fucks wrong with you?"
Jay was anything but predictable. He kept me on my toes and made sure I didn't slack. He's the reason I'm not at the bottom getting my shit knocked everyday. But that didn't mean we got along.
I ignore him, punching the bag again. He catches it as it swings towards him. I'm sweating when I look at him. "What do you want, I'm fucking here aren't I?" I breathe heavily as I attack the bag he holds.
"Payne's pissed at you, I told you to quit fucking with his rules. Just show up when you're supposed to and nothings gonna happen. But you couldn't even do that could you?" His words make me stop.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
Jay looks around. "Just because you're at the top doesn't mean you get away with shit." he states.
"Everyone's looking at you, Styles. Everyone wants what you have, and they hate you for it because you don't even want it for yourself." He swings the punching bag towards me and I catch it before it can hit me.
"They'll have it soon or later," I shrugged. I knew I wasn't gonna be in this shit forever. It was just a matter of time. But I also knew it wasn't that easy.
"Listen to yourself, even after all this time you still just don't fucking get it." Jay shakes his head and I've never seen the guy relaxed a day in his life.
"Whatever, man. Where's Miles? I need some shit."
When I get my stash I swallow the pills and the rest of my day flies by me. My head is light and my body is numb. I don't feel the hits or the bruises they cause. I don't feel anything anymore and I finally breathe for the first time in days.
Wednesday's were training days. They were pay days and they were easy. Friday's were fight nights and the real deal. But it was days away and I didn't even think about them until it was time to.
**
I get back to the motel late-afternoon. My heart beats to find strawberry blonde wrapped in my sheets waiting for me. But disappointment and guilt hang heavy in my stomach when I find room number four empty.
I'm in the shower but I don't remember getting there. Hot water steams around me turning sore skin red hot. Turning the water off I step out, shrugging past discarded clothes on the floor and the dent in the bathroom door to the empty pill bottle on the sink.
I crash as soon as my body hits the mattress, wrapping myself in motel sheets that smell like her and drift off into a deep dreamless sleep.
I wake up to a knock on the door and a throb in my head. The door opens without it telling me to and the sun shines in behind strawberry blonde but she isn't alone.
Zayn steps in behind her and I'm really awake now. I knew he wasn't stupid, that my lies never phased him and my best friend whose known me since childhood knows when I'm bullshitting.
"Jesus, can I get a warning next time, Vada?" I sit up as my body throbs now that my pills have worn off.
"He kinda just barged in," I hear her speak and there's a tone to her voice and I know she's still upset with me for this morning. Or was it yesterday morning?
I throw my shirt on and rub the sleep out of my eyes."What time is it?" Better yet, What day was it?
"Three in the afternoon," Vada says but I don't have it in me to meet her eyes as I realize I slept through the whole day.
"Where've you been?" Zayn's voice is lowered but I know my boy. He's just like a ticking time bomb.
"I'm a busy guy, Z" I answer back, moving towards the bathroom. "What's so fucking important?"
He doesn't follow me into the bathroom but I hear his voice. "Kiwi was on the radio," he mentions. I crush up pills on the counter and breathe in the dust off of cheap marble and it burns too good.
The drug flies through my veins, and when I open my eyes in the mirror they're pitch black. My body settles and so does my mind. Zayn lingers outside the closed bathroom door but he knows well.
"Ray got us a gig in Dallas Texas," he also says when I say nothing. "It's a music festival and we're opening for one of the biggest acts there. It's supposed to be a show with over one hundred thousand people."
When I step back into the room, Vada's gone and my drummer is leaning against the cluttered desk.
"Did you hear me? I said Ray got us a gig—"
"Did she tell you I've been here?" I grab my smokes off the nightstand. "You and V best friends now? Does your girl know?" I keep asking what I want and ignore everything he said before.
But Zayn just gives me a look. He scoffs and I know that after years of putting up with me he's coming to a close. "No, she didn't tell me, you're just a shit liar. And you'd know if Li knew, cause she'd have your head for using her best friend like you're doing." he stands up.
"Did you not just hear me about the radio and Dallas?—"
"I don't have the fucking time to go to a fucking music festival right now, Zayn." White smoke puffs around me as I watch his patience with me run thinner than my irises.
"You're fucking joking, right?" His face screams unbelievably but nothing about his feelings phase me right now.
There's a beat of silence when I don't answer and just like that the ticking time tomb takes off and I feel the explosion.
"What the fuck are we doing anymore, man? You clearly don't give a fuck about the band, or anything else except for your dumb fucking ring leader who you follow around and obey like a lost fucking puppy."
Zayn's known for his temper and while it phases most people, I'm used to his flaws like he's used to mine.
"Yeah, and who the fucks fault is it that I'm involved with him in the first place, huh?" I tell him what he already knows.
I step closer to him because he doesn't intimidate me like he does most people. I knew this kid like he pretends he knows me. "That's why you clean up my messes every fucking day, and make sure your girl doesn't know the truth about you either. That's why I'm the one fucked up when it could of just as easily been you too."
My words are meant to cause damage because it's what I'm good at.
"Don't fucking pretend that you're doing this for anybody but yourself, you had a choice man. You still fucking do but you're too much of a selfish fucking prick to do anything about it." He seethes.
Brown eyes are practically black, and I know I've hit a nerve. He steps closer too and we're on opposite sides for the first time in a long time. I watch years of friendship be destroyed with a few words and I don't do shit about it. Because I can't care when I don't feel anything.
I then just laugh. I laugh because I'm out of my fucking mind and nothing about what he's saying matters anymore. "Whatever, man." I continue laughing until my stomach hurts and I'm wiping tears.
Then Zayn is grabbing my jaw and pushing me up against the wall behind me. My head hits the drywall, but I don't feel it. Looking into my dark eyes, they don't hold what he's looking for because when the drugs settle in I'm never really here. He smacks my face a couple times but it's no use. I'm far too gone.
My childhood friend stands in front of me, eyes pleading for me to come out behind empty and uncaring. I see tired and defeat wash over him and I know he's given up. They all do because it's hard not to.
His arm releases from my neck and I stare back at him. I don't move an inch and there's silence between us before he says "You don't owe him shit anymore, man." My best friend knows about my secrets because he's been there for all of them.
I swallow down the sick feeling in my stomach when the room starts spinning and he steps back with shaking fists. There's something that lingers in his body language and I know after years of having my back he's realizing that there's nothing about it that does him any good.
"We're leaving for Dallas on Saturday, with or without you." His voice is quiet again and there's nothing more abnormal than seeing Zayn calm.
I blink and the room is empty. I hear the engine of his car pull out of the lot just as I step forward to finally say something, but it's too late.
Then my eyes catch the address written on an old napkin on the desk and underneath it says
so you know where we'll be when you come to your fucking senses.
-Z
And I know that I will never be deserving of kept promises and years of friendship secrets we take to the grave.
***
A/N
PSA: i claim 'sweet nothing' from midnights for this story 🫶🏻🫶🏻
vote if u think blondie killed it on her album ;)
-J