shining like a fiery beacon.
shining like a fiery beacon (AO3 link)
Harry/Zayn, Harry/OMC. Prequel to pretty from afar, like a dark star, from Harry's POV.
warning: physical abuse.
note: Yeah, the OMC in this is based on exactly who you think. Sorry. And this 'verse is so dark and fucked-up, IDEK anymore. I'm rolling with it. There probably will be more (from Zayn's POV?) soon.
Harry meets Zayn behind the school building when he's fourteen. He doesn't smoke but he accepts when Zayn offers him a fag. He wasn't so jaded back then - he liked trying new things and impressing people.
It's the last cigarette he ever smokes but Zayn becomes his first real friend.
*
Zayn has a lot of girlfriends, and Harry's been with his own share of people, girls and guys, in the last year, but nothing's really happened with any of them yet. And then they're at this party and Zayn's high on something but Harry doesn't know what and he's saying all kinds of stuff like his parents are worried about him and none of it's enough anymore and he thinks he's probably into guys and - Have you ever been with a guy before? he says in a whisper, pupils dark and huge, focused entirely on Harry.
He just says it, just says yes, because maybe he hasn't really outgrown that whole trying to impress people thing.
Zayn lets him fuck him, practically begs him to, and it's simpler than it should be. It feels like they've been doing this forever. Zayn rolls away from him after and falls asleep but when he wakes up, he's already gone.
*
They don't talk about it. It just happens sometimes when they're left alone at a party or they're hanging out at each other's houses and they get bored or they start thinking too much about the shit going on in their lives. (Harry's parents' fighting has reached its peak; he's not sure they're going to last much longer. Zayn has pretty much been banned from going out these days; he doesn't let that stop him though. Harry's sure he's been going to bars, hooking up with other guys now too. He doesn't have to say anything.)
He starts writing songs about scared, lost boys who don't realise how fiercely they're clinging to each other.
(He finds Zayn's stash of creased drawings one day. Some are of him, asleep, body too exposed and face too peaceful for comfort. There are about half a dozen others, all beautiful boys, looking fragile and debauched. Harry wonders if he's fucked all of them, or just seen them on the streets. If they're fantasies or memories or both. Wonders how he fits among them.)
*
It's the day before his sixteenth birthday that his mother leaves. Harry knows she's taken off with some guy. Her note says she's sorry, she wants to feel free again, she won't ever forget him. He just sits at the bottom of the stairs while his dad trashes the house, removes every last trace of her, all with a bottle in one hand.
When he eventually passes out, Harry just starts walking down the street.
*
Zayn's not home, so he keeps walking. He doesn't have a destination in mind.
There's a blond boy sitting on a porch, strumming a guitar, humming along with it.
He just stops.
There are several ways the story can go from here, he knows. He can keep walking forever, aimless and alone, end up falling into a ditch somewhere, end up throwing his life away. That's how it happens, right? He can become just another cliché. It seems like an acceptable option right now but he used to care about things - it seems like a century ago but he used to play dress-up with his mother's clothes, pretend he was performing on some stage for thousands of people. He used to sing along to old records and try to talk and act like all the rockstars gone before him. He used to put on his dad's old leather jacket and imagine being important, imagine doing something people would remember.
Sometimes, these things happen and they setback your dreams. And sometimes they only make you want them more.
Harry just stares at the kid and he stares back for a second.
It comes out before he even thinks about it. "Hey, I'm thinking about starting a band. Are you interested?"
The other kid just grins at him, showing off all his teeth.
*
Niall offers his garage for them to practise in, and it's just a mishmash of frenzied guitar and uncoordinated drumming for the first few days. It's refreshing though, the noise, the chaos of it all. It kind of feels like exactly what he should be doing. And when it all comes together, he knows it'll be great. It'll all work out because it has to.
He considers asking Zayn, but he's busy, he knows, with his art, trying to please his parents, dealing with his own shit. (He doesn't say much when he finds out about Harry's mum, just moves closer, wraps an arm around his neck to pull him in, says, "I'm sorry," so gently, right against his cheek. He kind of regrets telling him at all. They're supposed to be each other's escape from all the bullshit. He feels like he's kind of ruined it. He kind of doesn't really want him to be a part of this; it's too personal, too painful, and if they fail, well, he doesn't ever want to feel like a disappointment to Zayn.)
Niall asks one of his friends.
His name's Ian and he has a decent voice but he's way too hyperactive and flaily and he talks too much and too fast and apologises a lot and asks a shitload of questions and seems to have no boundaries whatsoever - and maybe it should be the worst possible fit, but the thing is, Harry likes him.
So, basically, they're all fucked.
*
He sounds way too at home singing the dark lyrics and maybe it's not exactly what Harry imagined them sounding like but it's interesting - it's different, and different's good. Niall eventually tells him that Ian's mum died when he was ten, that his dad's a cop who's basically a borderline alcoholic, that he's way more messed up than he looks.
It figures. Like there aren't enough broken things and broken people in Harry's life.
*
It happens like -
It's Friday night and he gets distracted, he gets distracted because they recorded one of their songs for the first time and it sounds - well, it sounds better than he could have ever thought. And he's playing it over and over and really loudly and maybe the ceiling's shaking a little. And his dad comes home, and maybe he's tired and a bit pissed-off and he's had a few too many at the bar after work and - it takes a couple minutes of him knocking on the door before Harry answers, and then it's all kind of a blur - somehow he gets slammed up against a wall and he hits his head pretty hard and his laptop falls off his desk and the music cuts off so abruptly. He feels hands around his neck after that and it's choking, bruising, cutting off his air and he can hear muffled yelling - you ungrateful fucking twat, why don't you do something useful for once in your life - and he tries to scream but can't, can't, can't do anything but watch it happen - but then he's forcing his arms up and he's reaching for anything he find and he ends up scratching his face and he yells and releases his grip on Harry's throat and then he's falling to the floor and his dad is stomping downstairs.
He doesn't cry then, just curls himself into a ball, shaking uncontrollably.
*
He ends up walking over to Zayn's in the rain, throws stones at his window until he opens it.
As soon as he sees him up close, his eyes get all confused and worried. "Hey, are you okay? What - ?"
Harry just grabs him by his shirt and pulls him into a harsh kiss.
"Just - please. Just please don't say anything."
Zayn pauses for a second but then nods.
*
It only happens a few times, really. About once every couple months, when his dad is too frustrated or drunk or something happens that reminds him too much of his mum. He apologises, sometimes, after, when he's cooled down and sobered up. Says he didn't mean to, it wasn't his fault, please don't tell anyone, please, I won't do it again, I'm so sorry.
(Maybe part of him feels sorry for him too. Because he never asked for this either. Didn't ask for a wife who never really loved him, a son who never really gave him what he want, a life that's been going nowhere. Maybe part of him just doesn't want to end up like him too. It's a good reminder.)
Harry doesn't tell anyone. Zayn definitely knows something's up every time he shows up in the middle of the night, but he doesn't ask anymore, just gives him whatever he wants. It's easier. It's always been easier for them this way. (His parents keep telling him to show some responsibility, so he gets a job at a comic book store, stops seeing so many girls publicly and guys privately. Harry wonders if he's the only one now sometimes, what that means.)
Ian's been showing a lot of interest, and it feels suffocating now. He's too wide-eyed and innocent (and too much like how Harry used to be) and he'll only end up even more hurt than he already is. Harry doesn't want to. He doesn't want to be so selfish with him, like he has with everything else in his life. Even if he thinks he deserves it, maybe, deserves something different and new, something that won't remind him of his old scars and his old life. Maybe Ian wants it too, wants to feel something else, besides the dull throbbing and the numbness from whatever medication his psychiatrist had prescribed him. Harry wants to tell him it's not worth it, it's not, playing with fire, the danger and the rush of it; it'll just end up consuming you from the inside. It won't make you feel any more alive. It's just leave you empty and soulless, a burnt-out shell.
*
He follows him home one day after practice, talking on and on about some band he really, really needs to hear.
Harry isn't really listening at all.
They end up making out for a really long time, lying on top of the covers on his bed. Harry hasn't really gotten lost in someone like that for a really long time. It's like Ian wants to feel every part of him, and he isn't too scared to let Harry do the same. (With Zayn, it's all averted eyes and quick thrusts in the dark. Maybe they'll always remind each other too much of bad things. Maybe there's some kind of shame there that'll never go away. It's just - old habits. They don't ever break easily. Harry knows they care about each other a lot, but it'll never be right. It's simple and easy and forgotten so quickly. Maybe that's the appeal of it after all. It's why they'll always keep going back to each other.)
Harry kind of wants to just lie in this bed with this beautiful boy like this forever. But then they stop and Ian rolls off him and he starts talking and - it's all just too much. Because he's talking about his mum, and how much he understands, and Harry feels like he can't breathe, because he's talking like it's the same goddamned thing and it's not. Because his mum is dead and he probably sat by her hospital bed for hours and days watching her fade away, knowing there was nothing he could do, nothing she could do. She would've fought, if she could. She would've fought, with everything she had, to stay alive. For him. And Harry's mum couldn't even fight to stay.
And some terrible band is playing in the background and he's talking about it like he does it all the time, like he tells everyone this stuff, like it's normal and okay and like he's accepted it.
Harry really hates him for a moment. Hates that he can deal with his shit. That he can move on. That it's something he could have, that it's right in front of him, but it'll never, ever be his.
Harry's almost frozen for a minute and then he's talking about his songs and -
"I think I understood you as soon as I read your lyrics. It just - it feels like you put all your pain into it. And that - that's good. Other people will understand too."
He finally finds his voice again.
"I don't know if I want them to." It's the most truthful thing he's said to anyone in years and years.
*
It's the last time (although he doesn't know it yet) and he can't hide it, can't hide anything anymore, maybe he's tired of hiding. He has a burst lip and a huge shiner. Zayn just stares at him, then his jaw clenches.
"I'll kill him."
"No, no, Zayn, just - stop. Just don't."
"What are you going to tell me? That it was your fault?" And he's never heard Zayn truly angry before. It's kind of scary.
Harry just shakes his head, helplessly.
"You have to tell someone," and it's resolved.
"No, no. What the fuck am I supposed to do then?"
"It's better than this. It's better than - "
"He stayed, Zayn. He didn't have to. He could've just left, he could've just gone like she did - " And fuck, he's not going to cry. Not now. Not after everything.
"You're not better off like this. I refuse to believe that."
"Please, Zayn, please..."
Zayn just wraps his arms around him, pressing him as close as he can to his own body.
"You don't deserve this. You don't deserve any of this no matter how much you believe you do."
*
The cops come in the middle of the night.
His dad goes so quietly.
*
The house is the emptiest it's ever been. He wishes his dad has just burnt it down that first day, so he wouldn't have to look at it, wouldn't have to spend another moment in it. He resolves that he has to get a job, has to get the hell out of there as quickly as he can.
Zayn calls a couple times. Niall knocks on his door. He doesn't answer.
*
Ian calls after he wakes up. He just stares at the phone for a second, something finally clicking into place.
"Hey."
"Hey."
"How are you?"
"You told your dad, didn't you?" It's not really a question.
"I - Harry - I'm sorry but - "
"I knew Zayn wouldn't. He wouldn't do that..."
"I did it for you! I did it because - "
"We're done," he says simply. He hangs up the phone.
*
When he leaves to move into his new flat a couple months later, he notices the jacket still hanging on the back of the couch. He grabs it, stuffs it into his bag.
*
Harry goes back to the garage for the first time. Niall's sitting on his guitar case in the middle of the floor.
"So, are we back?" he asks hopefully.
"Yeah, I guess. Just one part missing."
*
He hangs flyers up around town and in the school hallways the day after.
Harry/Zayn, Harry/OMC. Prequel to pretty from afar, like a dark star, from Harry's POV.
warning: physical abuse.
note: Yeah, the OMC in this is based on exactly who you think. Sorry. And this 'verse is so dark and fucked-up, IDEK anymore. I'm rolling with it. There probably will be more (from Zayn's POV?) soon.
Harry meets Zayn behind the school building when he's fourteen. He doesn't smoke but he accepts when Zayn offers him a fag. He wasn't so jaded back then - he liked trying new things and impressing people.
It's the last cigarette he ever smokes but Zayn becomes his first real friend.
*
Zayn has a lot of girlfriends, and Harry's been with his own share of people, girls and guys, in the last year, but nothing's really happened with any of them yet. And then they're at this party and Zayn's high on something but Harry doesn't know what and he's saying all kinds of stuff like his parents are worried about him and none of it's enough anymore and he thinks he's probably into guys and - Have you ever been with a guy before? he says in a whisper, pupils dark and huge, focused entirely on Harry.
He just says it, just says yes, because maybe he hasn't really outgrown that whole trying to impress people thing.
Zayn lets him fuck him, practically begs him to, and it's simpler than it should be. It feels like they've been doing this forever. Zayn rolls away from him after and falls asleep but when he wakes up, he's already gone.
*
They don't talk about it. It just happens sometimes when they're left alone at a party or they're hanging out at each other's houses and they get bored or they start thinking too much about the shit going on in their lives. (Harry's parents' fighting has reached its peak; he's not sure they're going to last much longer. Zayn has pretty much been banned from going out these days; he doesn't let that stop him though. Harry's sure he's been going to bars, hooking up with other guys now too. He doesn't have to say anything.)
He starts writing songs about scared, lost boys who don't realise how fiercely they're clinging to each other.
(He finds Zayn's stash of creased drawings one day. Some are of him, asleep, body too exposed and face too peaceful for comfort. There are about half a dozen others, all beautiful boys, looking fragile and debauched. Harry wonders if he's fucked all of them, or just seen them on the streets. If they're fantasies or memories or both. Wonders how he fits among them.)
*
It's the day before his sixteenth birthday that his mother leaves. Harry knows she's taken off with some guy. Her note says she's sorry, she wants to feel free again, she won't ever forget him. He just sits at the bottom of the stairs while his dad trashes the house, removes every last trace of her, all with a bottle in one hand.
When he eventually passes out, Harry just starts walking down the street.
*
Zayn's not home, so he keeps walking. He doesn't have a destination in mind.
There's a blond boy sitting on a porch, strumming a guitar, humming along with it.
He just stops.
There are several ways the story can go from here, he knows. He can keep walking forever, aimless and alone, end up falling into a ditch somewhere, end up throwing his life away. That's how it happens, right? He can become just another cliché. It seems like an acceptable option right now but he used to care about things - it seems like a century ago but he used to play dress-up with his mother's clothes, pretend he was performing on some stage for thousands of people. He used to sing along to old records and try to talk and act like all the rockstars gone before him. He used to put on his dad's old leather jacket and imagine being important, imagine doing something people would remember.
Sometimes, these things happen and they setback your dreams. And sometimes they only make you want them more.
Harry just stares at the kid and he stares back for a second.
It comes out before he even thinks about it. "Hey, I'm thinking about starting a band. Are you interested?"
The other kid just grins at him, showing off all his teeth.
*
Niall offers his garage for them to practise in, and it's just a mishmash of frenzied guitar and uncoordinated drumming for the first few days. It's refreshing though, the noise, the chaos of it all. It kind of feels like exactly what he should be doing. And when it all comes together, he knows it'll be great. It'll all work out because it has to.
He considers asking Zayn, but he's busy, he knows, with his art, trying to please his parents, dealing with his own shit. (He doesn't say much when he finds out about Harry's mum, just moves closer, wraps an arm around his neck to pull him in, says, "I'm sorry," so gently, right against his cheek. He kind of regrets telling him at all. They're supposed to be each other's escape from all the bullshit. He feels like he's kind of ruined it. He kind of doesn't really want him to be a part of this; it's too personal, too painful, and if they fail, well, he doesn't ever want to feel like a disappointment to Zayn.)
Niall asks one of his friends.
His name's Ian and he has a decent voice but he's way too hyperactive and flaily and he talks too much and too fast and apologises a lot and asks a shitload of questions and seems to have no boundaries whatsoever - and maybe it should be the worst possible fit, but the thing is, Harry likes him.
So, basically, they're all fucked.
*
He sounds way too at home singing the dark lyrics and maybe it's not exactly what Harry imagined them sounding like but it's interesting - it's different, and different's good. Niall eventually tells him that Ian's mum died when he was ten, that his dad's a cop who's basically a borderline alcoholic, that he's way more messed up than he looks.
It figures. Like there aren't enough broken things and broken people in Harry's life.
*
It happens like -
It's Friday night and he gets distracted, he gets distracted because they recorded one of their songs for the first time and it sounds - well, it sounds better than he could have ever thought. And he's playing it over and over and really loudly and maybe the ceiling's shaking a little. And his dad comes home, and maybe he's tired and a bit pissed-off and he's had a few too many at the bar after work and - it takes a couple minutes of him knocking on the door before Harry answers, and then it's all kind of a blur - somehow he gets slammed up against a wall and he hits his head pretty hard and his laptop falls off his desk and the music cuts off so abruptly. He feels hands around his neck after that and it's choking, bruising, cutting off his air and he can hear muffled yelling - you ungrateful fucking twat, why don't you do something useful for once in your life - and he tries to scream but can't, can't, can't do anything but watch it happen - but then he's forcing his arms up and he's reaching for anything he find and he ends up scratching his face and he yells and releases his grip on Harry's throat and then he's falling to the floor and his dad is stomping downstairs.
He doesn't cry then, just curls himself into a ball, shaking uncontrollably.
*
He ends up walking over to Zayn's in the rain, throws stones at his window until he opens it.
As soon as he sees him up close, his eyes get all confused and worried. "Hey, are you okay? What - ?"
Harry just grabs him by his shirt and pulls him into a harsh kiss.
"Just - please. Just please don't say anything."
Zayn pauses for a second but then nods.
*
It only happens a few times, really. About once every couple months, when his dad is too frustrated or drunk or something happens that reminds him too much of his mum. He apologises, sometimes, after, when he's cooled down and sobered up. Says he didn't mean to, it wasn't his fault, please don't tell anyone, please, I won't do it again, I'm so sorry.
(Maybe part of him feels sorry for him too. Because he never asked for this either. Didn't ask for a wife who never really loved him, a son who never really gave him what he want, a life that's been going nowhere. Maybe part of him just doesn't want to end up like him too. It's a good reminder.)
Harry doesn't tell anyone. Zayn definitely knows something's up every time he shows up in the middle of the night, but he doesn't ask anymore, just gives him whatever he wants. It's easier. It's always been easier for them this way. (His parents keep telling him to show some responsibility, so he gets a job at a comic book store, stops seeing so many girls publicly and guys privately. Harry wonders if he's the only one now sometimes, what that means.)
Ian's been showing a lot of interest, and it feels suffocating now. He's too wide-eyed and innocent (and too much like how Harry used to be) and he'll only end up even more hurt than he already is. Harry doesn't want to. He doesn't want to be so selfish with him, like he has with everything else in his life. Even if he thinks he deserves it, maybe, deserves something different and new, something that won't remind him of his old scars and his old life. Maybe Ian wants it too, wants to feel something else, besides the dull throbbing and the numbness from whatever medication his psychiatrist had prescribed him. Harry wants to tell him it's not worth it, it's not, playing with fire, the danger and the rush of it; it'll just end up consuming you from the inside. It won't make you feel any more alive. It's just leave you empty and soulless, a burnt-out shell.
*
He follows him home one day after practice, talking on and on about some band he really, really needs to hear.
Harry isn't really listening at all.
They end up making out for a really long time, lying on top of the covers on his bed. Harry hasn't really gotten lost in someone like that for a really long time. It's like Ian wants to feel every part of him, and he isn't too scared to let Harry do the same. (With Zayn, it's all averted eyes and quick thrusts in the dark. Maybe they'll always remind each other too much of bad things. Maybe there's some kind of shame there that'll never go away. It's just - old habits. They don't ever break easily. Harry knows they care about each other a lot, but it'll never be right. It's simple and easy and forgotten so quickly. Maybe that's the appeal of it after all. It's why they'll always keep going back to each other.)
Harry kind of wants to just lie in this bed with this beautiful boy like this forever. But then they stop and Ian rolls off him and he starts talking and - it's all just too much. Because he's talking about his mum, and how much he understands, and Harry feels like he can't breathe, because he's talking like it's the same goddamned thing and it's not. Because his mum is dead and he probably sat by her hospital bed for hours and days watching her fade away, knowing there was nothing he could do, nothing she could do. She would've fought, if she could. She would've fought, with everything she had, to stay alive. For him. And Harry's mum couldn't even fight to stay.
And some terrible band is playing in the background and he's talking about it like he does it all the time, like he tells everyone this stuff, like it's normal and okay and like he's accepted it.
Harry really hates him for a moment. Hates that he can deal with his shit. That he can move on. That it's something he could have, that it's right in front of him, but it'll never, ever be his.
Harry's almost frozen for a minute and then he's talking about his songs and -
"I think I understood you as soon as I read your lyrics. It just - it feels like you put all your pain into it. And that - that's good. Other people will understand too."
He finally finds his voice again.
"I don't know if I want them to." It's the most truthful thing he's said to anyone in years and years.
*
It's the last time (although he doesn't know it yet) and he can't hide it, can't hide anything anymore, maybe he's tired of hiding. He has a burst lip and a huge shiner. Zayn just stares at him, then his jaw clenches.
"I'll kill him."
"No, no, Zayn, just - stop. Just don't."
"What are you going to tell me? That it was your fault?" And he's never heard Zayn truly angry before. It's kind of scary.
Harry just shakes his head, helplessly.
"You have to tell someone," and it's resolved.
"No, no. What the fuck am I supposed to do then?"
"It's better than this. It's better than - "
"He stayed, Zayn. He didn't have to. He could've just left, he could've just gone like she did - " And fuck, he's not going to cry. Not now. Not after everything.
"You're not better off like this. I refuse to believe that."
"Please, Zayn, please..."
Zayn just wraps his arms around him, pressing him as close as he can to his own body.
"You don't deserve this. You don't deserve any of this no matter how much you believe you do."
*
The cops come in the middle of the night.
His dad goes so quietly.
*
The house is the emptiest it's ever been. He wishes his dad has just burnt it down that first day, so he wouldn't have to look at it, wouldn't have to spend another moment in it. He resolves that he has to get a job, has to get the hell out of there as quickly as he can.
Zayn calls a couple times. Niall knocks on his door. He doesn't answer.
*
Ian calls after he wakes up. He just stares at the phone for a second, something finally clicking into place.
"Hey."
"Hey."
"How are you?"
"You told your dad, didn't you?" It's not really a question.
"I - Harry - I'm sorry but - "
"I knew Zayn wouldn't. He wouldn't do that..."
"I did it for you! I did it because - "
"We're done," he says simply. He hangs up the phone.
*
When he leaves to move into his new flat a couple months later, he notices the jacket still hanging on the back of the couch. He grabs it, stuffs it into his bag.
*
Harry goes back to the garage for the first time. Niall's sitting on his guitar case in the middle of the floor.
"So, are we back?" he asks hopefully.
"Yeah, I guess. Just one part missing."
*
He hangs flyers up around town and in the school hallways the day after.