Midnight Memories [ h.s au ]

Harry Styles was that teenage dirtbag that every single student in his high school either loves or hates. He's an eye candy, a crush, a somebody, to at least everybody in the campus.

When he throws a huge senior year party, an unexpected student shows up and it leads to one friendship which blossoms into an intimately lustful relationship.

WARNING: Obscene language and sexual scenes.


1. - interlude

   Harry Styles. 

   That one name could simply make any girl's heart flutter. Those pair of mesmerizing emerald green eyes and that silly lopsided smile could make anybody's heart skip a beat without warning. Those pair of big hands that any teenage girl would die to interlace their fingers with.

   An eye-candy, a crush, an idol, a 'role-model', you name it. That seventeen-year-old boy could attract anybody of any gender with a soft and casual gaze, and get anything he wanted with the snap of a finger. Not literally, but he makes it look so easy to get a new car within a day.

   Harry was rich, charming, seductive, wild and a real snob. In everybody's eyes, he's just a sweet little angel. But oh, no. Try being a neighbour of his since childhood; it's hell. Well, actually, why not playmate?

   I've known Harry since he was four. We've been in the same school throughout our lives, meddled with affairs, played tricks on each other, experimented on each other and drifted apart from each other. As our teenage years began to swim in, he began to be much more busier with his new friends, new style, new attitude and new mindset. Obviously, to show him that I no longer very much cared about him anymore, I changed, too. For the better or for the worst; I didn't know. But I knew that the only thing that I was addicted to was cigarettes and not alcohol bottles or drugs.

   Floating away from him made me find new talent for myself. Besides the fact that I could sing, I picked up guitar lessons and pretty much brought together a three-member band which performs gigs each alternative night. Harry . . . I don't know much about him, anymore. Much less his current favourite colour.

   Senior year of high school means a year filled with fun, stress, the deepest pit of dramas from hell, and one last party thrown by Harry. Never have I ever attended any of his parties — ever. I just simply thought that they were a little too overrated and stupid. But the last year of high school meant giving every opportunity a chance.

   And that means that I'd have the need to attend his loud, vibrant, teenager-infested and alcohol-reeking party.

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