hiraeth ; harry lewis

xviii. maybe not so alone then

Harry was fucked. He had been for a while, but now it was even more evident as he tried to navigate his way through the sea of sweaty, flailing bodies. His hands itched for the cool, smooth relief of another bottle in them, but he could feel the eyes of the token responsible ones - namely Josh and Tobi - tracking his movements, and he knew it was at the point now where they would step in if they saw him going for a drink.

New Year's Eve had always had this kind of effect on him, especially this late at night, this close to the dawn of a new era. He liked to think of himself as a carefree spirit who didn't give a shit, but he couldn't help but sometimes get hung up on the way time kept going no matter what. Sure, he was still young at 23, but in the coming year he would be 24, then 25, and it would never stop. He loved the freedom of being young. He hated the idea of having to sacrifice that as he aged.

The alcohol pumping through his system certainly didn't help with his rushing thoughts; in fact, they only served to intensify the wave of negativity he was currently riding on. The mean drunk inside of him had come out full force as a result, and he could sense the way many were shying away from talking to him in case he found an opportunity to lash out.

As the final hour of 2019 began to slip away from him, he huddled himself in a corner, letting the music thump along with his loud heartbeat and watching his friends jump around and holler rubbish at each other through his swimming vision. Being left alone to his thoughts wasn't the best solution to his problems, but the alternative was being a raging bastard at all of his friends because he couldn't find another way to express himself in this state.

"Harry?"

Maybe not so alone then. Val was approaching him, her steps a lot more steady and linear than they had been the last he'd seen of her. Clearly, the others hadn't informed her of his dickhead tendencies when he surpassed a certain level of drunkenness.

"Val," he grunted, tilting his head towards her in greeting. "You look surprisingly sober. I thought you'd be on the floor somewhere by now."

She made a face, crossing his arms and cocking her hip out as she leaned her weight on one leg. "I haven't had a sip of alcohol in the past hour or so, that's probably why I look like a functioning human right now."

"Really?" He raised his eyebrows. "How come? It's New Year's, mate, drinking's the whole point."

"Well, no, you lot are just alchies," she said. "But anyway, it's hard to get hammered after a deep convo. You gotta take the time to ruminate and shit."

"Ruminate," he snickered, pushing a hand through his hair and tossing his head back, not even reacting as it banged against the wall. "I guess the others haven't warned you?"

"Huh?"

"I can be proper nasty when I've had a bit too much and I get all in a mood about something," he told her. "So it's probably best if you fuck off for a bit. I'm surprised they didn't say something."

Her eyes widened. "Ohh, that's what you're talking about," she said, tongue sliding along her bottom lip. "Nah, they did talk to me about that. Figured I'd give it a shot and see for myself what it's like. And, I mean, you haven't torn into me yet, so it's happy days right now."

"Maybe you're just special," he said, tone dry.

"Do your worst," she grinned. "I have tough skin, I'll be fine."

He stared at her, doubt written across his face. "Well, that's a lie. You're a lot of things, but tough-skinned isn't one of them."

She hid her mouth behind her hand as she laughed, eyes crinkling in the corners. "God, yeah, that's a total lie. But if you start being a bastard I will just fuck off and I probably won't be offended, so we should be good."