A week had passed, Harry thought. A week had passed since then, and Harry found himself seated in a dimly lit bar. He had been to this bar every single day this week. With a heavy heart and a clouded mind, he had sought refuge in this haven of inebriation, unsure of any better recourse.
The bar beckoned to him, a sanctuary shrouded in shadows, where the solace
of alcohol flowed freely, and the likelihood of familiar faces was remote. As the acrid taste of his third shot scorched his throat, he beckoned the barkeep for yet another, as if drowning his sorrows in spirits could quell the tempest raging within.
Sarah was persistently calling Harry for some reason but the calls to Harry remained unanswered. Harry's disinterest was unwavering; he dared not to risk anything now, he already harboured an intense self-loathing due to his past deeds. He had sworn off the company of any Omega but Louis, vowing never to repeat the past.
Presently, alcohol enveloped his thoughts, rendering him blissfully oblivious to the complex intricacies of his relationship with Louis - a momentary respite from the incessant contemplation that had
plagued his mind.
Amidst two calls from his mother and an ensuing one from Sarah, Harry's anger swelled beyond containment. Reluctantly, he answered her call.
"Hello, Harry! Why have you been avoiding my calls? It's my birthday," Sarah began with resentment seeping into her words, but Harry interjected firmly.
"I don't care, Sarah. I am not interested in you. I never was." he retorted, abruptly concluding the conversation by ending the call and then slamming his phone onto the countertop.
With a heavy sigh, he leaned wearily against the counter. There he remained, ensnared in a state of inertia, devoid of the energy or will to engage in any activity. It seemed as though an hour had silently slipped away while he lingered in that despondent stance.
Suddenly, a warm and comforting aroma breathed new life and vitality into Harry's senses.
His eyes widened with astonishment as he scanned his surroundings, and they alighted upon Louis. There, amidst the dimly lit ambience, Louis stood, quietly ordering a drink for himself, seemingly alone. Harry couldn't be sure if his eyes were deceiving him. Perhaps, in his desperation, he was conjuring mirages, much like a parched desert traveler hallucinating an oasis.
For in that moment, Harry realized that his yearning for Louis surpassed any human necessity; more vital to him than water, sustenance, oxygen, or even life itself.
With newfound determination, Harry rose from his position and made his way towards Louis, whose surprise mirrored his own. They both knew this was not their usual choice of establishment. However, the anonymity it offered was essential; a place where their identities could be shrouded from prying eyes.
Harry positioned himself squarely in front of Louis, his gaze sweeping over every inch of him, as if he were examining a precious jewel to ensure its safety. Louis looked tired, just like Harry.
Louis released a weary sigh, his voice tinged with exasperation. "I didn't expect to find you here. Just go away, Harry."
Desperation laced Harry's voice as he implored, "Louis, please."
Louis fixed him with a sharp, wounded gaze. "What, Harry? What more could you possibly want from me?"
"I only want you to hear me out, to understand my perspective," Harry pleaded.
A bar tender placed a glass of wine near Louis and he quickly took a sip. Louis' voice held a tone of resolute finality. "I have no desire to converse with you or entertain your feeble justifications. You've hurt me more times than I can count on my
fingers. Please, just go."
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Fuck Destiny and Fuck You
FanfictionHarry Styles and Louis Tomlinson were born into two of the wealthiest families in London. Despite their privileged upbringing, they couldn't be more different. Louis was a hopeless romantic who believed in soulmates and destiny. Harry, on the other...
