Chapter Text
“You have to tell someone.” Nick’s voice was firm, or as firm as Nick could be anyway. Which wasn’t very but Harry wasn’t going to insult him or anything. Even inside of his own head.
“I did.” Harry stated simply, following up with a shrug in case Nick was going to get the impression at any point that this was going to be more than a casual conversation.
“As flattering as it is that you’ve told me your deepest darkest secrets — and believe me it is — I mean all we need now is a sleepover, friendship bracelets and for me to be your top friend on MySpace….”
“MySpace doesn’t even exist….” Harry mumbled, taking a sip of his tea.
They might be here for a while. Harry had prepared for that. He’d turned up to Nick’s flat with all of his arguments for this written in his notes app. He’d turned up with tea and custard creams — the fancy kind — and a charming smile that had made Nick instantly suspicious yet reluctantly charmed.
Harry was very prepared for this conversation.
“I was making a reference Popstar, now if you’d stop rudely interrupting?”
“I’m sorry ...continue with your reference” Harry waved his arm, laying his legs over Nick’s as he settled back against the arm of the couch.
Might as well get comfortable if he was in for a Nick level rant.
“Well I was done with the reference actually, but anyway — the point I’m making and making well might I add — is that you need to tell someone other than me.” Nick eyed him mock sternly, but he rested his none tea drinking hand on Harry’s ankle anyway — so Harry counted it as a win. “Preferably someone who is going to be around on that little thing called a world tour.”
“Why did you pick MySpace as your reference?” Harry frowned, reaching down the side of the couch for the half eaten packet of Custard creams.
“We’re done with the reference now, which means we’re also done with all questions pertaining to the reference and any and all possibilities of said reference saying anything at all about my age and your lack of it.”
“....you’re fine, I kind of remember MySpace.” Harry threw him a bone, even if MySpace had been essentially dead by the time Harry and his mates had been getting into social media.
No need to point that out when he needed a medium sized favour from the other man.
“I kind of just felt myself get diagnosed with arthritis.” Nick sighed dramatically, taking a sip of tea and Harry simply watched him expectantly. It had been relatively easy so far — probably too easy — he hadn’t even had to get out his notes yet. “Anyway, stop changing the subject. I know what you’re doing.”
“Look….” Harry sighed, and if a couple of biscuit crumbs escaped from his mouth onto the couch, well that was just a consequence of Nick being dramatic. It wasn’t Harry’s fault. “The rules are I have to have someone registered you know? In case of emergencies and all that.”
“It can’t be me!”
“Why not?” Harry shrugged, ignoring the way Nick’s hand tightened on his ankle. “They said it wouldn’t be public information….it’s not like, I dunno — the 80s or something — Subs have rights too.”
“Subs were given those rights in the 50s Harold — please for the sake of my fragile ego — make no more references to decades you never existed in.”
Harry sighed, munching sullenly on his biscuit as he went over all his prepared arguments in his head. He knew he was asking a lot. He knew that most people didn’t take registering as someone’s Dom Guardian very lightly — but he’d thought with Nick’s habit of not having anything more than casual flings with switches, that he’d be his best bet.
“Nick….c’mon, you’re the only Dom I know that doesn’t already have a registered Sub.”
Harry knew that wasn’t necessarily true. But he was the only Dom that was a viable option for this arrangement. The only Dom that wouldn’t interfere or try to actually do the job. That wasn’t what Harry wanted. He hadn’t spent the last year since he turned eighteen pretending to be a Dom just for it all to go tits up because they’d been forced into donating blood as a publicity stunt.
Modest had been covering up his status since he’d been classified a year ago and Modest had fucked up spectacularly with a public appeal for blood donors the whole band had been part of. It was inevitable after that really, that Harry would have been called in and questioned on why his registration papers had never been filed.
It had been an easy enough explanation that Modest had provided him with. Wide eyed and dimpled, he’d stumbled his way through terrible lies involving the stress of fame and how he’d thought it had been taken care of. Harry was a terrible liar and he was pretty sure the Switch in the government building hadn’t bought a word of it. But she’d simply handed him some leaflets, information about sub rights and registration being a private thing and warned him in no uncertain terms that he had one week to get the right paperwork in and a Dominant guardian on file.
There was no law to say that Harry couldn’t be a Dom to the public. There was nothing saying he couldn’t keep pretending — but for his own safety, he had to have at least a Guardian if not a bond to help with his emotional needs.
“That’s a complete lie.” Nick was rambling on and Harry hoped his face was doing a listening appropriately expression. “There are exactly three Doms you know extremely well who don’t have registered subs. You might have heard of them, they make up three fifths of this really famous boyband — bit overrated if you ask me — but still, they exist.”
“Liam already has a registered sub and it’s new so, don’t wanna interfere.” Harry mumbled, digging back into the custard cream packet just for something to do. Even if he felt a little sick. Because of the biscuits obviously. Not because of the mention of his bandmates. His bandmates who Harry lied to every single day.
“Wait when did they make it official?”
Nick was distracted and Harry couldn’t blame him. Liam and Zayn’s relationship wasn’t common knowledge, but Nick had Harry perks. Not the kind of perks Harry suspected he’d wanted once upon a time. But gossip perks.
“Last week — they aren’t announcing it yet.” Harry shrugged, as though Zayn and Liam deciding to officially register their bond wasn’t exciting. It was. Of course it was. Harry was happy for them — if not a little jealous. “We’re waiting to use the news for the tour promo.”
“The life of a Popstar….” Nick shook his head, sighing dramatically as he waved a hand. “Well that still gives you two options.”
Harry could only stare at him in horror. Was Nick seriously suggesting he ask Niall or Louis to register as his Dominant guardian? Because that was something he wasn’t even willing to consider — not simply because they were his mates who Harry had casually lied to since he was classified. But they were a band, they were equals — and yes okay he knew Zayn was their equal too, he knew being a sub didn’t mean he was any less. But it just — it felt different. It felt like it would change things and Harry wasn’t a fan of change.
Even if watching Louis fake a relationship with Eleanor had sent him into a hot flush the one time Louis had helped her with the collar before a pap walk. It didn’t matter that Eleanor was actually a Dom, just watching Louis’ nimble fingers position the sleek leather of the collar had been enough to send Harry running to his hotel room under the guise being desperate for a nap.
None of that was relevant. None of that was part of the carefully prepared notes Harry had spent hours compiling.
“C’mon Popstar ...don't give me that face. They’re your best mates and they’ll be with you for the entire tour.” Nick paused, watching him carefully in a way that made Harry want to sink into the couch or suddenly develop the ability to turn invisible. “You know ...Zayn's experience doesn’t have to be yours. Zayn is a special sexy breed of moody and resentful.”
Harry took another sip of his now tepid tea, trying not to grimace lest Nick thought it was about that comment. Harry knew he wasn’t Zayn. He knew that he was lucky really, that Zayn had been outed against his will and whilst he’d been understandably angry at the Dom who had sold the story — he’d been very publicly angry for a good couple of months. Public sympathy had gone from being with Zayn for the breach of his privacy to scrutiny about his behaviour and some conservative arseholes using it as an excuse to start discussions on subs needing to be more tightly controlled.
Zayn’s behaviour or emotions shouldn’t be an excuse for right wing wankers to spread their vicious anti-sub propaganda. But that was the consequence of fame and the privileged life they had. It hadn’t made it any easier to watch Zayn going through it at the time though.
Zayn hadn’t gotten in any public Twitter feuds for a while and Harry had a suspicion that it was one of Liam’s rules now. It seemed rude to ask about their arrangement in that way — or maybe it wasn’t — but Harry found himself deeply uncomfortable with those types of discussions. Considering he was probably supposed to have some rules himself.
“It’s been months Nick ...I can’t just casually come out with it now.” he commented eventually, ignoring the point about Zayn because it was simply more convenient to do that.
“Right ...because you’ve been playing the part of Dom for so long and now you’ve been found out.” Nick sighed, and Harry was horrified at the realisation that he wanted to cry at the very slight chance Nick was disappointed in him. “You know most people would take that as a sign that it’s time to stop lying.”
“I’m not most people….” he sniffed, absolutely horrified at the tears brimming in his eyes. Because fuck his biology. He didn’t want to sit at the end of this couch and stew in guilt and sorrow over the potential that Nick was upset with him.
That wasn’t going to help his case.
“No...you’re really not.” Nick sighed once more, turning to look at him then, his face a picture of concern and Harry prayed he wasn’t going to make a big deal about Harry’s current state. He didn’t. Thank fuck. He simply rubbed a hand up and down Harry’s shin and Harry felt the immediate warm relief flood through his body — he wasn’t mad. He wasn’t disappointed and Harry didn’t need to feel guilty. “Why can’t Simon do it? Or one of your Managers — alright maybe not those dickheads — but what’s that other bloke called? The tour guy? Most Dom to have ever Dommed?”
“Paul?” Harry asked, trying his best not to move over and curl into Nick’s lap like an indulged house cat.
Being a sub had the unfortunate tendency to make physical affection something so much more. To make the right kind of reassuring touch from a Dom fill him with a warmth and satisfaction even a good cup of tea couldn’t.
Being Harry made those feelings increase ten fold. He’d always been affectionate, he blamed his mum for getting him used to it when he was younger.
“Yeah, him.’
“I’m not telling Paul.” Harry scoffed, because that was probably the worst idea Nick had ever had — and Nick had once thought mixing tequila and vodka shots was genius.
“Oh I see — because he’ll actually take his responsibilities seriously, unlike your good friend Nick who’s so close to retirement he can’t even remember how to give a spanking.”
Harry froze at that, eyes widening against his will. It wasn’t unusual to hear that in casual conversation, it was the preferred method of discipline after all. A way for subs to gain release and feel taken care of — at least that’s what everyone said. Harry wouldn’t know. Harry had never been disciplined like that in his entire life.
He’d thought about it sometimes, when he fucked up in an interview, or got a little too drunk with the lads and listened to Liam lecture him in a way he probably wouldn’t if he knew he was a Sub. He’d thought about it with Louis’ harsh words about Harry being reckless in some way or another ringing in his ears.
He’d always lain in his bunk or hotel bed on those nights, his body weighted down with guilt or buzzing with feelings he couldn’t place. His hands and feet tingling with an onset of numbness — a sure sign of a drop. He’d thought about it as he’d swallowed down emotional suppressing pills over and over again. The kind marketed to Subs to help stave off a Drop. Like Nicotine gum or something. They did the job but they didn’t fix the underlying problem. He sometimes thought how much easier it would be to just allow someone to help him with the guilt.
He’d thought about Louis, with his expressive blue eyes, and his fingers that used to card through Harry’s hair more than they did now. Thought about how maybe nursing a sore arse wouldn’t be so bad if Louis were calling him Love and murmuring that he was a good boy in his ear. He thought about forgiveness that felt like forgiveness and how Harry couldn’t remember what that was anymore.
“Are you blushing?” Harry shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts as Nick interrupted, “You’re actually blushing at the word spanking? God I wish I could talk about this on air — I’m so deprived — my life is so hard.”
“Nick….c’mon I’ve been doing this for ages. I don’t need a Dom Dom you know? I just need to not break the law and register a Guardian.” Harry argued, fighting through the blush staining his cheeks. “You don’t even have to do anything, just sign the paperwork — it’s not even a bond — your commitment phobic heart is safe.”
Harry was hoping that argument was going to win it for him. Because there was a difference. Every sub had a Dom guardian. Usually a parent or family member, someone to keep them grounded and emotionally stable until they found a partner and registered a bond. Considering Harry had decided not to tell his family his classification so they didn’t worry about him more than they already did on tour —that hadn’t been a viable option for Harry.
Robin or Gemma would have registered in a heartbeat, but they also would have wanted someone with him on tour. They would have put rules in place, things for his safety and Harry could do that for himself. Harry would have ended up with Paul registered as his secondary guardian or something equally horrific — and Paul was parental enough towards them without adding that onto it.
“What happens if you drop? What kind of guardian am I if I let you go on a world tour knowing there’s nobody around that knows about it?”
“Well ...you're not a real guardian, just y'know ...on paper.” Harry mumbled awkwardly, because Nick was starting to sound like this was a real thing and not just a signature on a piece of paper. Which was the exact opposite of what Harry wanted.
“As insulting as your opinion of my superior Dom skills are and as much as I’m loathe to get all sentimental….” Nick squeezed his ankle once more, his voice softer than usual, “You’re my best mate Haz and I’m — as sentimental people would say — worried about you.”
“Nick ...I've been doing this since I was eighteen.” Harry smiled softly, jiggling his leg in Nick’s grip as a poor attempt at comfort.
“That’s concerning enough.”
“Nothing is going to change alright? I’m going to go on tour, you’re going to bore people to death on the radio and and text me with no concept of timezones.” Harry rambled, thankful for his slow drawl making him sound way more casual than he felt. “It’s going to be the same as it always is, but I’m not going to be breaking the law.”
“This is going to come back to bite me in the arse and quite frankly, I’ve put in way too many hours with a personal trainer to have my arse ruined like that.” Nick sighed dramatically but Harry could tell from the quirk of his lips that he was caving. “...we can try it for a month. One month and if anything goes wrong, or I have an attack of guilt that can’t be cured with tequila then I’m telling Daddy Direction.”
“....Liam?” Harry couldn’t even bring himself to be happy with the compromise, Liam took being a Dom so seriously Harry was pretty sure he wrote essays in his spare time about his responsibilities. “I told you because I trust you Nick...you can’t tell anyone.”
“...and that trust has to go two ways Haz.” Nick turned to face him properly then, his eyes serious in a way Harry had rarely seen. His tone softly authoritative that made Harry either want to crawl into his lap and apologise for rules he’d broken that didn’t even exist. “You say you’ve been doing this for a year, which must mean you’ve got some healthy coping mechanisms. So I’m trusting you to make sensible decisions, I’m trusting you to take care of yourself — but if it seems like you’re not? If you’re putting your health and emotional well-being at risk? Then all bets are off and I’m not going to sit here knowing that there’s perfectly good Doms around you every day that could help you.”
“Okay….” he murmured, setting his tea on the ground as he finally gave into temptation and curled into Nick’s side. “Okay….I’m careful I promise — I’m not going to put you in an awkward position Nick. I swear.”
“God Haz….” Nick groaned, his arm wrapping around Harry in a way that had him sighing happily. It made him feel safe, made him feel secure. It made him feel like Louis had in those years before he’d been classified. Like nothing in the world could touch him, warm and content, without the relentless buzz under his skin that never seemed to leave now. “I dunno how I never guessed….”
Harry chose to ignore that comment. Plenty of Doms were affectionate too thank you very much. Even if they didn’t sometimes feel like they actively wanted to burrow into someone’s skin.
….he was working on it.
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“Lads, excellent news….” Harry kept his eyes closed as he heard Louis’ voice, in the middle of a very relaxing meditation in which he’d been flying and would like to get back to thank you very much.
“Oi, you tossers — at least pretend to be listening to me yeah?” Louis tried again, and Harry felt something smack his chest where he was lying on the floor of their dressing room.
“Heey….” he protested, blinking his eyes open and pleasantly surprised when said weapon of Louis’ had in fact been a banana.
“We’re listening Louis.” Zayn drawled from where he was sketching in the corner, Liam napping on his shoulder. Well — he had been napping, now he was sort of just blinking moodily in a way that Harry thought made him look like a sullen penguin.
Harry simply shrugged, opening his banana and offering half out to Niall where he was sprawled on the only couch in the room. He didn’t particularly want to share if he was completely honest — but Harry figured it was either feed The Niall or watch The Niall murder Louis for waking him up for something other than food.
“Right well — oo cheers Haz.” Louis flopped onto the couch, sitting on Niall’s legs as he took the offered banana and popped it in his own mouth.
Harry was honestly not sure if Louis was going to remain alive, as Niall attempted to remove his legs and Harry stared sadly at the remaining half of his banana before passing it to the blonde Dom with a sigh. Honestly — the sacrifices he had to make for peace and harmony.
“Tommo — get your big arse off me.” Niall grumbled, but took the offered banana anyway and Harry chose not to be offended at the lack of thank you. Niall wasn’t human until he’d been fed, it was known fact.
“Jealousy doesn’t become you Ni — just because you’re flat as a pancake.” Louis quipped, finishing off his half of the banana with a flourish and Harry spent a second staring mournfully at his hands where his banana used to be. “Anyway, unlike you lot, some of us — meaning me — have been productive since sound check.”
“Would you just get on with it Tommo?” Liam sighed and Harry jumped as Liam took a seat next to him on the floor, passing him a banana with a quiet. “Here, Haz.”
Sometimes Harry thought Liam might actually have magic Daddy Dom skills or something.That he could just sense need and distress — which was what Doms were supposed to do, but still — Liam was really good at it. But he refused to look into that deeply, lest he send himself into a panic an hour before a show. For now, he simply rested his head on Liam’s shoulder happily as he peeled his brand new banana.
“Right, well now you’ve taken all the shine off it ...I guess I’ll just tell you that Paul okayed us going out tonight.” Louis sighed dramatically, like he was incredibly put out. But Harry wasn’t fooled, he knew that affectionate look in Louis’ eyes. He indulged them with his ridiculous dramatics, lifted the mood in rooms without even having to try.
There had been a time when Harry’s entire world had consisted of whatever look was in Louis Tomlinson’s eyes so he was a veritable expert by now. There had been a time when Louis had just been there. Whispered words in his ear when he had stage fright, fingers carding through his hair when homesick, arms wrapped around him in celebration. There had been a time when every significant emotion in his life had been so wrapped up in Louis.
Then he’d been classified and Harry wasn’t sure who had pulled away first. He wasn’t sure if he’d been imagining the look of disappointment in Louis’ eyes when Harry had shown him his fake Dom paperwork. Maybe that had been wishful thinking, at a time when Harry had been unsure of his decision to go along with their management. Maybe he’d wanted Louis to call him out, to express disappointment over his being a Dom so that Harry could feel like being a Sub was the better option. That it was something to be proud of.
All Harry knew was that his emotions only tied to Louis in memories now. That when the homesickness hit it was only the phantom touch of Louis’ fingers in his hair that sustained him. All he knew was that somewhere along the way, they’d stopped the constant affection and maybe Harry had done it too, maybe he’d pulled away to hide his secret. Or maybe when those fan rumours started about the two of them and if Louis was hiding that he was a sub it had gotten worse. Harry didn’t know what the root cause was, only that the symptoms had been hard on both of them.
They were still mates. Best mates like they all were. There’d still be touches. But it didn’t have the same weight behind it now. Louis touched him like he touched any other Dom, Louis rough housed with him like Harry wasn’t holding his breath to savour every moment of contact. Louis didn’t touch Harry like he was precious anymore. He didn’t touch him or murmur sweet things into his ear. Louis never called him a good lad like he used to and Harry pretended he didn’t miss it.
“H….you in there? I swear you get a banana and fuck off to some weird banana world.” Niall’s voice interrupted his thoughts and Harry stopped chewing for a second to look up at the blonde Dom.
“Huh?” he mumbled, swallowing quickly as he felt Liam laughing beside him. “What’s a banana world? Is that the club we’re going to? Kinky.”
“No, but I appreciate the enthusiasm Hazza.” Louis rolled his eyes fondly and Harry tried his very best not to swoon that he’d pleased the other boy.
He was ridiculous. He needed to get a grip.
“Paul said he’d find us a club, I don’t really give a shit which one as long as there’s alcohol.” Louis waved a hand, fist bumping Niall when requested and Harry took another bite of his banana before he did something stupid like try to make another joke so he could have a fist bump too.
“Zayn you’re coming right?” Louis addressed the Sub in the room, before glancing at Liam quickly. “That’s cool yeah?”
Harry needed another banana. Or he was going to put another phallic object in his mouth simply because Louis was such a good fucking Dom. He was so respectful, including Zayn but making sure he wasn’t being rude to Liam in case he and Zayn had some private arrangement about drinking or something.
“Yeah if he wants to, sounds fun. We’ve not been out in forever — as long as one of us are there, Zayn can make his own decision.” Liam shrugged, and Harry pressed a kiss to his cheek as a reward for Liam also being a lovely Dom.
It hadn’t been in his lifetime, but Harry knew there’d been a time when Subs didn’t have the rights they did now. There’d been a time when control over Subs had been abusive rather than protective. When it had been nothing about the different psychological and physical needs they had, and more about the title itself. He knew that once upon a time it would have been completely unacceptable for Zayn (and him) to even be in the band and drinking or living a normal free life was unheard of.
Now it was different, people had rules and arrangements with their guardians and bonded partners. But there were laws in place now that any Dom who abused their authority and their sub as a result would be locked up faster than Harry could eat a banana. It was common practice however, for Subs not to go out drinking alone. It wasn’t a law or anything, but alcohol affected them differently, affected their emotions and it was always dangerous to be in a vulnerable state without a Dom around in case of a Drop. It was just common sense really, to have a Dom with them.
Harry didn’t tend to go out alone for that reason. He might be keeping a secret, but he wasn’t an idiot. He wasn’t rebellious for the sake of being rebellious and he definitely didn’t want to Drop in a packed Club where anyone could see and take advantage.
“Don’t annoy me during the show and I’ll think about it.” Zayn drawled from the corner, and Harry laughed when Niall threw a sock at him in retaliation.
“....not the show yet, so that doesn’t count.” was the only thing Niall said in response to Zayn’s glare.
Harry snorted, flopping back onto the floor for another ten minutes of relaxation before he’d need to go get his hair fixed. He loved them, his boys. And yeah, maybe sometimes the guilt over his constant lies was too much. Maybe sometimes he just wanted them to know him for who he was, wanted their easy acceptance and soft words instead of harsh yelling when he fucked up.
But then Niall would flop down on top of him like he was now, closely followed by the rest of them and Harry figured how it was now wasn’t too bad either.
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“Liam’s wasted and Niall’s pulled — I’m gonna take this big lug back to the hotel alright?” Louis’ voice was clear in his ear despite the noise of the club and Harry almost choked on his jack and coke at those words.
“We — we can come with you.” he nodded towards where Zayn was stood at the bar, before helping Liam settle more firmly against the wall.
“Nah — took ages to get Zayn to come out. He’s having a good time. You two stay.” Louis waved his hand and for a second Harry couldn’t understand why Louis thought Zayn and him could be left here alone.
“But….Zayn shouldn’t — you know — he needs a Dom to — “ he rambled, the vodka making his brain and tongue confuse their signals.
“Yeah?” Louis frowned, wrapping Liam’s arm around his shoulders. “You’re here Haz....it’s cool, Liam trusts you yeah? Just have fun and give us a text when you’re back so we know you’re not dead.”
Oh. Because he was a Dom. Right. He could stay here with Zayn and that was totally cool because Harry was a Dom. Completely. Yeah. Totally cool. Didn’t matter that Harry was 100% not a Dom and had already drunk way more than he should have.
“I trust you Hazza!” Liam yelled drunkenly into his ear, almost falling as he planted a sloppy kiss onto his cheek, Louis using his full strength to hold him up. “You’ll look after my Zayn!”
Harry should have protested. He should have made some sensible excuse that he felt like going back too so they could all leave. He should have said anything that would mean he wasn’t going to casually allow two subs to be alone in a club. Two famous subs. But Liam was saying he trusted him, he was giving him affection and trusting him, praising him even and Harry couldn’t help but preen at that. He wanted to prove himself, he wanted Liam and Louis to be proud of him. He wanted to do a good job and be a good boy for them.
A good Dom.
He wanted to be a good Dom. Not boy.
So he didn’t do anything he should have. He simply watched Louis and Liam stumble towards the back exit where their driver was waiting and made his way back to Zayn. He ignored the guilt in his stomach as he tugged Zayn onto the dance floor. He simply stopped drinking despite already being wasted and decided to play the part of Dom babysitter for the rest of the night.
He was pretty proud of it too. Proud of himself as he bundled them both into the car later, proud as he passed out in his bed and hadn’t had to take any kind of anti drop pill once. He was proud of himself even when he woke up with a terrible headache and a thank you text from Liam.
He was proud up until the moment he checked his other texts and saw one from Nick.
Couldn’t even make it three weeks Popstar?
His eyes widened as he read the words, heart beating in his chest as he clicked the link Nick had sent. Some shitty gossip piece with a picture of Zayn and him leaving the club. The contents didn’t matter. What mattered was Nick knew. Nick knew he was a Sub and he knew Zayn was. Nick knew and Harry regretted making that stupid fucking compromise the second Nick’s next text came through.
Paul, Louis, Niall or Liam. Pick one in the next five minutes or I’ll pick for you. This was such a bad idea and I’ve aged seventeen years exactly in the last five hours.
Harry couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t believe Nick was doing this. That Nick was going to betray him like this and he knew rationally that it wasn’t fair to put Nick in this position. Harry had done something dangerous and reckless and he had nobody to help him through that. He had nobody with him to make sure he was okay. He’d put both him and Zayn in danger and he knew that it wasn’t fair to Nick to have that on his conscience.
But that didn’t mean Harry was willing to be rational. Not right now. Not when he’d gone through such painstaking methods to keep this exactly how he wanted it to be. So he did what he believed was the only real option in this situation.
He turned his phone off.
He’d deal with it later. Or never. Whichever came last.
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The thing with turning his phone off, was that Harry had absolutely no idea what was going on. He didn’t know if Nick had followed through with his threat, he didn’t know if anyone else was trying to contact him and he hadn’t stayed in his hotel room long enough to find that out in person either.
They had the day off. A day break in Manchester until their next show and usually Harry would take that opportunity to pop home and see his family. Or, if his mum was on holiday like she was now — he’d do something fun with the boys. He’d make the most of a day of freedom and explore whichever city they were in.
Usually, Harry wouldn’t have left his phone in his hotel room, grabbed a beanie and sunglasses and sat on a bench by a stretch of canal. Usually Harry wouldn’t be hiding and he definitely wouldn’t risk Paul’s wrath by disappearing without letting anyone know he was going. He wouldn’t usually risk walking around a busy city without some kind of security either.
But today was not a usual day and Harry wasn’t in a usual mood. It was like, one mistake just led to another and then another — until he was trapped on top of a mountain of all these stupid things he’d done and he couldn’t even fix it. He couldn’t apologise because they didn’t know and if they did know — well that was the reason he was avoiding them in the first place. He couldn’t do the sensible thing and ask for help with the Drop he could feel lingering.
All he could do was sit on the bench and take another pill every time he felt the weight in his stomach and the horrible thoughts about being bad and useless go round in his head. They usually worked, the pills usually gave him some relief at least but it felt like he’d almost gone through an entire pack and he still couldn’t shake the buzzing under his skin or the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.
He’d made the decision for desperate action before he’d even realised he had. He could hear the noise from Canal street somewhere in the distance. He knew that now the darkness had come it would be packed with eager Doms and Subs looking for a fix. Dark, sweaty and filled to the brim and perfect for an unfortunately famous Sub like Harry to try and stave off a Drop with some bad decisions.
He honestly had no idea what Club he was in by the time he was there, he had no idea whose hands were drifting up his shirt and scraping along his torso. He didn’t know what drink was in his hand or who gave it to him but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because the hands that were touching him belonged to a Dom, and the hard cock that was pushing into his jean clad arse as he grinded back against it belonged to a Dom. He didn’t care because the buzzing in his skin wasn’t so insistent anymore. It was still there, pulsing a beat along with the music, but it was lesser, not as sharp.
“Fuck — you’re so fucking fit.” an unfamiliar voice murmured in his ear but Harry didn’t like that. He didn’t want to hear their voice. Because their voice was too low, it didn’t have a mischievous edge to it and Harry knew if he turned around that voice wouldn’t come along with a set of bright blue amused eyes.
That realisation hit him like a punch to the gut and all of a sudden he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t deal with the hands that suddenly felt like restraints. The hands that seemed to intensify the restless energy that flowed through his skin everywhere they went. Like they were spreading a particularly unpleasant lotion, burning a brand onto his skin that he never asked for.
“Sorry I — bathroom — “ he managed to stammer out through gritted teeth, not wanting to be rude, not wanting to make this stranger feel responsible for the fact Harry had completely lost his fucking mind.
He didn’t go to the bathroom, simply stumbled away towards the exit. His eyes were blurry as he made his way to a line of cabs and he ignored the concerned voice of the cab driver as he gave him the name of the hotel. Because if he asked him, if he asked if he was okay then Harry wouldn’t survive it. If he did anything but move from one task to another then Harry wouldn’t be able to make it. He wouldn’t and he wasn’t sure what happened if he didn’t.
By the time they made it to the hotel he’d managed to calm his pounding heart enough not to drop completely, but the rest of the physical symptoms remained and Harry guessed it was because he just kept doing things that made it worse. Leaving for one. That hadn’t been his best idea. Taking those pills and continuing the lie. Going to another club alone. Ignoring Nick and everyone else. All of it.
The walk from the Cab seemed like it took forever, limbs heavy and by the time he was walking down the hallway to his room he’d given up all pretence of pretending he wasn’t going to drop. He was. He was going to drop and he was just going to have to deal with it. He just had to get to his room, he had to get inside and lock the door and figure out a way to get through it without any help. He could do it. Plenty of people did it, he was sure. There were some very independent subs in the world and he was sure he wasn’t the only one who had to deal with drops by themselves.
It took him a while to get his Key Card out of his pocket, and he’d barely shut the door behind him before a voice was interrupting the buzzing in his head.
“Fuck, you’re back.” Harry frowned, confused as he was pulled into a hug suddenly. Zayn’s strong arms wrapping around him. “You’re such an idiot. Such a fucking idiot.”
Harry didn’t know what Zayn was talking about. He didn’t know why Zayn was in his room and hugging him. He just knew he smelled like Zayn, he smelled warm and comforting and Harry buried his head in the other boys neck and just breathed for a minute. It wasn’t the same, it wasn’t the same touch as a Dom. It wasn’t that same kind of weighted relief, but affection was affection and it helped clear some of the clouds in his head, enough for him to function for a minute. Enough to get some semblance of normality.
“Nick told me.”
Harry froze at Zayn’s words. Spoken with a quiet confidence that only Zayn could manage. Spoken just like that, so casually Zayn might as well have stated that the sky was blue. Spoken as though Harry’s whole world wasn’t going to crumble around him now that the worst had happened.
“Nick — he — he’s dramatic. I don’t — there’s not — “ he started, pulling back from Zayn and staring at him with wide, panicked eyes. He couldn’t get himself together long enough to formulate a convincing response. He couldn’t focus.
“Save it Harry.” Zayn commanded, although it wasn’t harsh, didn’t have quite the bite Zayn could have when he really wanted to. “He told me everything. He was in a fucking state when he called, said he couldn’t get hold of you and that he shouldn’t have made that threat over text, that he knew you’d panic. He told me so that someone would know Harry….he did you a favour.”
“Just you?” he mumbled, twisting his rapidly numbing fingers in his shirt, trying to disguise the trembling, or stop it or — or something. He wasn’t sure anymore what he was doing or what was happening.
“Yeah. I guess he didn’t want to betray your confidence and tell a Dom until he had to. Everyone’s been worried about you though — Paul wouldn’t let us go looking, said it’d cause a scene if we did. Then we saw the pictures on twitter that you were out and he sent security to find you.“ Zayn paused then, and Harry could feel his sharp eyes on him. Shivered as he felt the way the other boy was sizing him up, and flinched when he heard his sharp intake of breath. “You’re dropping. Fuck Haz, you’re dropping — “
“No I — I took a pill — I’m — I’m — “ he mumbled but he couldn’t find the words, tongue felt thick and foreign in his mouth. So he fumbled in his pocket instead, shoving the empty packet of pills at Zayn so he’d know. He’d know he was fine and he didn’t need to worry.
“Well it’s evidently not working.” Zayn snapped and Harry hated that he could hear the panic in his friend's voice.
Zayn who reacted with anger or nothing at all whenever he felt something overwhelming. Harry was causing that now, Harry was causing him distress and he couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t take any of it.
He let out a choked sob, heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. He didn’t know what was happening. Only that he hated himself, he hated the pain he was causing. He hated everything and he couldn’t remember how to not. He couldn’t even remember how to take a breath.
“Fuck….fuck Harry, c’mon babe. We have to get someone to help you.” Zayn was talking, was holding his hand and tugging him along and Harry wanted to protest but it was hard enough to get his legs to move as he stumbled after him.
He must have made some kind of noise of distress though because Zayn’s voice was there again, sure and strong even if his touch wasn’t quelling the pounding of Harry’s heart.
“I’m sorry ...I know, I know you don’t want them to know. But I can’t help you Harry, I’m not a Dom.” he was squeezing his wrist, at least Harry thought he was. Everything was blurred and strange, touch didn’t really feel like touch anymore. He didn’t feel like him. “It’s going to be okay, we’re getting you some help and you’re going to be okay.”
Harry wasn’t sure how much time had passed, or how far his heavy legs had stumbled until a door was being opened and his body was being shoved unceremoniously into a familiar pair of arms.
Harry could only whimper when the arms didn’t hold him like he wanted them to, when instead small but firm hands gripped his shoulder and familiar blue eyes met his own with a steely gaze that made Harry want to cry.
“Oh look who the cat dragged in — don’t give me that face Zayn you’d make a good cat — I see you’ve been delivered to get yelled at yeah? Fuck, you’re well wasted.”
“Louis.” Zayn’s voice broke through the noise, stern and yet kind of distressed, but Harry couldn’t really tell which emotion was winning out. He barely knew if this was real life or a dream.
“What the fuck were you thinking going off like that?” the arms shook him and Harry thought maybe his organs were going to fall out. He wasn’t sure he even cared. “Twitter is having a bloody field day with you. We’ve got a show tomorrow and you just — “
“Louis shut the fuck up.” Zayn interrupted, and Harry could only whimper desperately and he thought maybe he should be ashamed. Maybe he should be embarrassed of his reactions but he couldn’t feel anything but sorrow and confusion. “He’s dropping.”
“What are you — what?” Louis’ eyes left his, presumably to turn to Zayn and Harry wanted to cry all over again.
“He’s dropping Louis.”
“Fuck — I don’t understand — what?”
“Harry. Is. Dropping. Can you pull your head out of your arse for ten seconds and do something?”
“But how is he — oh fuck —” Louis’ eyes were back on his again then, studying him intently and Harry watched as they widened in realisation. He wanted to duck his head but he couldn’t, wanted to run but he couldn’t do that either. He was stuck, hyper focused on the blue of Louis’ eyes, on the hands on his shoulders as though that was all that was keeping him alive. “Hazza no ...sweetheart what did you do?”
Harry let out a desperate whimper, the tears falling down his face because he didn’t know. He didn’t know what he’d done, he didn’t even really know what was going on but he thought maybe Louis was mad at him. That he was bad.
“Okay ...it's okay, come on, c'mere.” Harry felt as Louis wrapped an arm around his shoulders, felt as he was led into the room and pulled between Louis’ legs as the other boy took a seat on the edge of the bed. “Look at me love, let me see those pretty eyes.” Harry looked at him automatically, his heart slowing considerably as Louis took both of his hands in his and squeezed lightly. “That’s it — good boy.”
Harry felt some of the weight leave his body at that, like he could physically feel it dropping off him. Because Louis was calling him a good boy. Even though he was bad. Even though he hated himself. Couldn’t rationalise the horrible self flagellation in his head, couldn’t tell himself it was just a Drop because he didn’t have the capacity for rational anymore.
“I’m going to help you go down okay?” Louis murmured gently, and Harry didn’t know what that meant but Louis sounded so confident and so reassuring that Harry wanted it anyway. “Zayn, tell Paul he’s back and bring the others here yeah?”
“Louis he doesn’t want — “ Zayn’s voice cut through the noise again, only for Louis to interrupt.
“It’s a bit late for that now, what he wants has gotten him in this state.” Harry whimpered in distress at the tone, at the implication that Louis was mad at him. He’d been bad. He was bad. He was so bad. Only, then Louis was squeezing his hands once more, before running his own up and down his arms and Harry wanted to melt. “Shh it’s alright sweetheart, nobody is mad at you. Just worried that’s all ...come on now, down you go.”
Harry felt as Louis tugged him down gently, felt as his legs folded beneath him and his knees hit the floor. He had a vague notion he was kneeling, his hands wrapping around Louis’ calf desperately, head resting on the other boys thigh as the buzzing in his skin seemed to cease.
It was like someone had hit pause. Like the air in the room was thick without being stifling. All of a sudden there was quiet where there hadn’t been before and Harry wanted to cry with the relief of it. Only he didn’t, because Louis’ voice was breaking through, a constant reassuring sound within the peaceful silence. An anchor tying him to reality.
“That’s it, so good ...such a good boy for me Hazza.” Harry shivered pleasantly, making a small pleased sound he didn’t know he could even make at those words. Because he was a good boy. He was being good. He was being such a good boy for his Louis and that’s all he wanted to be.
He felt almost like he was floating as confident fingers ran through his hair, as nails scraped pleasantly against his scalp and Louis’ soft voice floated within the peaceful silence.
“That’s it, close your eyes....there you go, so good ...so good for me sweetheart.”