3Larry songfic. Lyrics are not mine, they are Ed's. Characters are not mine. Story is. Angsty. Might be triggery. Few bits of bad language.
Enjoy!
This city never sleeps
I hear the people walk by when it's late
Harry sits at his window, watching the London nightlife below. People bustle by, completely unaware that somebody is watching. It's a calming distraction. Well, it's supposed to be.
Sirens bleed through my windowsill
I can't close my eyes
Don't control what I'm into
The events of the day flicker through the brunette's mind like a slideshow, pausing only at parts that caused particular emotions.:
The twenty minutes spent with Lux that provided a sweet distraction.
The interview that had Harry laughing more than he had in months.
The conversation with management that, not for the first time (and certainly not for the last time), filled him with seething anger and the burning desire to throw things around.
And this tower is alive
The lights that blind keep me awake
He doesn't want to sleep. He doesn't want to eat. He doesn't want to talk. He just wants to sit and wallow in self-pity. It's just been one of those days, you know? Harry has those days more often than not, especially since Louis left him.
Hood up and lace untied
The street fills my mind
Can't control what I'm into
Harry gets up and paces, unable to sit still for as long as he had initially hoped. It's becoming impossible for him to deal with his thoughts. Grabbing his wallet, keys and favourite hoodie, he slips on some shoes and slams the front door behind him. Alcohol. That will solve his problems.
London calls me a stranger, a traveller
This is now my home, my home
He hates it here. He hides in the dark, ignored by all. Not for the first time today, he longs for his bed in Holmes Chapel. He longs for his mothers cooking and his sister's comforting advice. He just wants to go home. Not his shitty (it's not shitty it's incredible, but Harry is in a hateful mood so it's shitty) lonely apartment in London. He makes a mental note to ring his mum in the morning, even if it's just to briefly hear her voice.
I'm burning on the back street
Stuck here sitting in the back seat
He walks and walks, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his shoulders hunched. His hood is up, and he prays to God that no one recognises him or speaks to him because he's really not in the mood. He stops in front of a newsagents and hesitates for a second before going in. Is it worth it? He mutters to himself. Fuck it. He pushes the door open and leaves ten minutes later with a lighter wallet and as much alcohol as he can carry.
I'm blazing on the street
What I do isn't up to you
If the city never sleeps then that makes two
He drinks a lot that night. More than he ever has before. He just can't take it anymore. The pressure to be perfect is overwhelming. The pressure to be… To be someone he's not is sickening. And as for being alone? Well that just fucking sucks. He just wants to forget.
Liam lets himself into Harry's flat the next morning, suddenly very glad he decided to check on him when he finds the lad in question heaving his guts up in the bathroom.
Later, they talk. Well, Liam talks. Harry cries. Then Liam talks some more. Harry shouts. Liam shouts. Harry cries some more. Liam leaves. It's not the first time Liam has found him like this, but it's the worst. So far. Harry finds it difficult to care anymore.
The pavement is my friend
It will take me where I need to go
I find it trips me up and puts me down
For the next few weeks Harry wanders the streets, sometimes sober, sometimes not. Nobody can help him. He doesn't care. The only one that could… No. Alcohol will just have to do.
This is not what I'm used to
Those blue eyes haunt his dreams, his nightmares, and his every waking moment. Drink is his only escape. Not even music helps any more. He can't do what he loves. Not that they are doing much at the moment. It's kind of hard when you don't have everyone there.
The shop across the road fills my needs
And gives me company when I need it
Harry has a problem. The boys know it. His family know it. Management know it. The public know it, thanks to various drunken outings and various peoples' stories of their "Night With Harry Styles". But Harry doesn't care. He drinks. He pukes. He cries. He fucks. He does whatever he's told when it comes to 1D. He's just numb.
Voices speak through my walls
I don't think I'm gonna make it past tomorrow
Niall is the next to attempt an intervention. Harry locks himself in his bedroom, so Niall sits on the other side of the door and talks for over an hour. He understands. He sympathises. He loves Harry, as do the others, and they just want to help. He can't get help if he keeps locking himself away. It makes Harry's heart ache even more. He doesn't want to hear any of it, but apparently, he needs to.
Eventually Harry unlocks the door. He crawls back into bed straight away and Niall sits there silently whilst Harry cries and makes false promises. He knows they are false. Niall knows they are false. But it's a start.
London calls me a stranger, a traveller
This is now my home, my home
It lasts a week, and then he's back to drinking every night. He cuts down and tries his best to work, but it's hard to do an interview when your head pounds and everything smells like puke. Various people try talking, shouting, crying, and even confiscating alcohol but it's no use. Harry won't let anyone help. He's still numb. It's becoming harder and harder to remember a time when he wasn't.
I'm burning on the back street
Stuck here sitting in the back seat
I'm blazing on the street
A couple of months later, and after a particularly bad night, Zayn arrives at Harry's flat at 8.30am and pounds on the bedroom door until he hears Harry move. He makes bacon sandwiches and tea, forces the younger lad to consume the lot, and then tells him how stupid he is. He tells him that he's selfish and it needs to stop. He tells Harry that he loves him, but he needs to get a grip. Harry just sits in silence, just taking it all in. In the end, Zayn wraps his arms around Harry as he cries again. He cries until he can cry no more. When he's all cried out Zayn ruffles his hair, makes him promise to have a shower and then leaves. Harry does as he's told.
What I do isn't up to you
If the city never sleeps then that makes two
Liam sits with him that night. It makes part of him angry because hello, don't need a baby sitter! But a part of him knows that he does need someone to watch him. But it's not just that; Harry doesn't realise how much he needs the company until Liam arrives with two pizzas and a "Grease" DVD. Liam offers him a beer when he grabs one for himself, but Harry declines. He thinks a night without alcohol is probably a good idea. He can tell Liam is pleased with his decision, but they don't speak another word until Liam leaves.
Harry goes straight to sleep that night and it's the best sleep he's had in months.
And my lungs hurt and my ears bled
With the sound of the city life echoed in my head
A few weeks later, Harry finds himself literally in the gutter. He struggles to catch his breath as he cries and hiccups and vomits. This is it. This is his lowest point. Because it's been a year.
As he wanders the streets he falls several times, breaks a toe, hits his head, scrapes his arms and walks into a parked car. He arrives at his destination covered in blood, stinking of booze and puke and despair but it doesn't matter, because Harry has something to say, something he's needed to say for a whole year.
Do I need this to keep me alive?
The traffic stops and starts but I need to move along
"HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME?" He screams at Louis. "I LOVED YOU AND YOU LEFT ME. I NEEDED YOU AND YOU LEFT ME. HOW DARE YOU." This goes on for several minutes. Harry cries and screams and hits but it's no use. It doesn't do a damn thing because he's still alone and Louis is still dead.
London calls me a stranger
This is not my home, home
Harry sobs and sobs until he heaves, and then he sees Louis' name and he starts crying again. Awful, heart-shattering, panic inducing sobs. Because he loved Louis and he left him. Blaming him is irrational because Louis had no idea he would have an aneurysm, but Harry doesn't know what else to do. They were just starting to be happy and then it was torn away from them.
It's right then that Harry considers ending it all. He's a failure and a burden. He can't do anything right and fuck he needs Louis so much. But he doesn't. He scrapes himself up off the ground and walks to Zayn's flat. He can't be alone, not tonight. Turns out that he's not, because Liam and Niall are there too. They couldn't bear to be alone either. They convince him that it's going to get better. He lets them because being alone sucks.
I'm burning on the back street
Stuck here sitting in the back seat
I'm blazing on the street
Over the next few months people throw words and phrases at Harry like "depression" and "PTSD" but he doesn't care. Because of course he has PTSD, how else is Harry supposed to react when the man he loves bleeds to death on the floor whilst he watches hopelessly. He relives those moments every day; the moment that Louis fell to the floor, the moment Harry dropped to his knees and tried to steady him, the moment Louis stopped convulsing and the light went from those bright cerulean eyes, leaving behind a dull blue stare that haunts Harry every night. He knows it'll haunt him forever. He knows he's being selfish and that Zayn, Liam and Niall loved Louis too but it's not the same. They don't understand because they were never in love with Louis. They didn't see him the way Harry did, and now Harry will never see him like that again.
What I do isn't up to you
And if the city never sleeps then that makes two