Harry's POV
I groan as I slam into her again and again, half-hearing her low noises of pleasure.
Mindless sex. It works as a distraction.
She grabs onto my forearms and I resist the urge to shake her off. I look down at her face. Her eyes are brown, I didn't notice the colour before, but it's chocolaty and pretty. They don't shine. You can't see her brain whirling way past the speed limit behind them; they're dim and unaware.
She starts mumbling my name, or the name I told her: Austin, and her chest flushes. I feel her clench around me as her eyes squeeze shut. She looks beautiful.
I feel my own release come on and moan quietly before attempting to roll off her.
"No," she says quickly, grabbing my buttocks. "Put your weight on me." She gives a little smile.
I raise my eyebrows and get up, ignoring her. Her face is pink with embarrassment in my peripheral vision, but I feel nothing, I never will. Guilt doesn't register with my brain. With the rush of anger at the fact that I will never be normal, I slam my fist down of the bed frame and the crack sounds.
Amy scrambles up. "Shit! What the fuck, Austin?"
I jump up and throw my t-shirt and jeans on, walking to the door. I face back to her, my hand on the handle. She's crying, her fingers clinging to the bed sheets. "It's Harry, babe."
I slam the door behind me.
*
"We're filming the video for Stockholm Syndrome on this sick little island," Niall says over the phone.
"When are we leaving?" I ask, walking through a dark shortcut to my house.
"Dunno. Couple of weeks, I think. They'll tell us tomorrow. You alright, mate? You sound a bit off."
"Fine."
"They want your 'girlfriend' in it." He makes the quotes obvious.
"What? Why?" I whine.
"Don't ask me. Look, I wanna go back to sleep. Why the hell are you up this late?"
"Sure. Sweet dreams, Princess." I ignore his question.
"Fuck off," he laughs, and hangs up.
I stroll along in the darkness, the essence of London filling my senses. Suddenly, I feel myself whacked up against the wall and a body holds me in place.
"You got anything?" A raspy voice says, feeling through my pockets. "Cash? Wallet? Drugs? Fuckin' give it to me."
I try to wiggle free, but he's stronger. I spit at him and his fiery eyes fix on my face.
"Do that again?" he hisses. And then I see the recognition register in his squinty eyes. "Hey, you're that fuckboy in the band, aren't you?" He cackles but I can see the fear in his eyes. He knows I have power, and he's just a kid.
"Look, I'll give you some shit, just let me go."
He considers it and then releases me. I fumble through me pockets, pretending to be looking for something, and then leg it. He doesn't stand a chance.
I hear him yelling behind me, and don't stop running til I get to my gate.