Neon Red – Chapter 48

(DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. It’s important to remember this is all totally fabricated, embellished, and exaggerated for entertainment purposes.)


Are you sleeping baby by yourself?

Or are you giving it to someone else?

Harry Styles | Where Do Broken Hearts Go

Rio de Janeiro

May 2014

I left the pool party early to crash, telling Preston to stay and enjoy himself. He insisted on escorting me back to my room, though, before heading back down to finish his drinks with the other boys and our team. I was a sweaty mess by the time I got to the room, so couldn’t climb in bed before a serious shower. When I came out and dried off, I squatted at my suitcase and dug around for clean briefs and a t-shirt. Mission accomplished, I flung myself across the bed and stared up at my phone. Shahid had sent me a photo of his cat driving his truck. It was stupid but funny as shit after a few drinks. I told him Naughtybob would run him over if he weren’t careful. That was one pissed off looking cat. I then realized it was super late in their part of the world despite it only being 11pm here, so I saved the remainder of my responses to my mum, sisters, and Pez for in the morning.

Plopping onto my stomach, I kicked my legs up behind me and scrolled through Twitter. What a wasteland of mind-numbing stupidity and stan wars. Still, I depended on it daily for entertainment. Some of the fans were defending me against comments made about my ever-increasing tattoo collection. Many people still weren’t over the gun I’d gotten at my hip last year. Bunch of bible-clutching puritans, if you asked me, always quick to judge. But my fans had my back every step of the way. Apparently I was just expressing myself and should be given free reign to do so. People were also obsessing over Haz’s new leafy hip tattoos, and I’d been tempted to do so myself. My fingertips itched to trace them, although I hadn’t exactly found the time since they first appeared.

Fuck, Liam was really going through it. He’d been drunk-tweeting about Sophia all week. Really shameless, corny shit like ‘Can’t be without you’ and ‘Worse thing I ever did was let you go.’ I laughed at the fact that he had used ‘worse’ instead of ‘worst’. Poor guy. The future wasn’t looking too bright for him in the love department. I scrolled past without reading any more because the second-hand embarrassment was too much to bear. Plus, I didn’t want his loneliness and desperation to jinx me. Moving on, I noticed I hadn’t been on too much myself, and neither had Lou. Nialler wasn’t up to much either. Haz had been busy tweeting all the weird and indecipherable things he normally did. Nothing out of the ordinary there. We hadn’t spoken much at the party either, since he’d been all over Ben and Cal and Julian (his most loyal drinking buddies) for the past few days. Hadn’t seen him around Matt anymore, though, and the mere thought of this never failed to bring a smile to my face. My work in that department was complete, and I wasn’t remorseful about it in the least.

Later I got up and opened the balcony door for a bit of air, staring out mesmerized at the starry sky. This hotel was the sickest one we’d stayed in in South America by far, mainly because it was beachside and gave us a front row seat to all the drop-dead-gorgeous eye candy who strutted about all day in barely there bikinis. It also had two pools available which kept the crowds at a minimum, one being on the ground floor for the commoners, and the other on the rooftop which only the penthouse guests were allowed to access. That included our entire team. That’s where they’d held the party tonight that I’d dipped from.

After we got back from Christ the Redeemer earlier, having absorbed its energy and marked my memory with one of the most mind-blowingly emotional sights I’d ever seen, I pigged out alone in my room then slept the remainder of the day. The heat was exhausting. The good kind of exhausting though. The kind that made you crash for days and catch up on all the rest you’d been missing while busy in more moderate climates. Now a balmy breeze swept the building, and I stepped out into it in nothing but my briefs and tee. The air felt like a massage against my skin. I pulled my shirt off and let it wash over me, thankful that the balconies were a bit secluded up here—

An urgent knock landed at my door startled me from my mediation. It was now 12am, which made no sense for anyone to be stopping by unannounced, least of all housekeeping. I stepped warily back inside, shrugging my shirt back on, and the energy radiating from behind the door let me know exactly who it was. No need to inquire. Haz had stopped by. No, not Haz…this was Harry. Drunk Harry at that, and this guy always spelled trouble for me. Typically I only had to deal with him over the phone in the wee hours whenever I was spending the night with Pez, but he’d been cutting loose since we got to Rio, hitting the caipirinhas hard ever sense the locals introduced us to them. Wouldn’t listen to reason. I winced at the thought of his poor liver struggling to keep up. But what can I say? The man loved his liquor—

His fists landed again, but this time much harder and much more relentlessly. He was going to wake the entire floor if I didn’t stop him. The wood was literally jumping off the frame.


“Open up! I know you hear me.”

“Chill…” I uttered, swallowing the lump in my throat. I could hear in his voice he wasn’t here to be nice. “I’m comin’, broh…” I quickly tossed on a pair of sweats and then my tennis shoes. Couldn’t have his drunk ass stepping on my toes like he always did. When I opened the door, he barged past me in a t-shirt and gym shorts. For some reason he’d changed his clothes from earlier. His hair was wet too, so I figured he’d either showered, or more than likely jumped in the pool fully clothed and had no choice but to change.

“How was the party?”

“Great. It’s still going on, actually.”

“Then why’d youh leave?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?” I ran my hand through my drying hair before crossing my arms and watching him closely. He was pretending to be sober, but I could tell by the careless swagger in his step he was drunk off his ass.

“So, uh…you met somebody in Columbia?”


“Why didn’t you mention her the other night?”

“Again, broh…what?”

“You slept with someone in Columbia, right? Some brunette? Who was she?”

“What for? She’s of noh concern to youh, yeah? Isn’t that how this how uncomplicated ting goes? I mind my business and youh mind yours?”

“Fuck you, who was she?”

“Noh, broh, fuck youh. What’re youh even mad for? You’ve wanted nothing to do with me since last yearh. You’re the one who dumped me, remember?!”

“You’re a piece of shit, you know that?”

“Why?” I knew better than to get into a spat with him while he was drunk, because he wouldn’t back down, but fuck it. Here we go.

“Because!” He blurted, frustration rendering him speechless. He then walked away as if he would leave, but stopped himself. “I hate you,” he told me.

“Well, I don’t hate you.”

Stoppp, dickhead! Say it back!”

“Noh. I will never hate youh, Harry. I don’t have it in me.” He got really upset at that, wringing the bottom of his shirt like a two-year-old.

“Why couldn’t you just take care of me then?? Fuck’s sake, Zayn. Fuck! Why the fuck couldn’t we just work?!”

“…I dunno babe,” I shrugged, humoring his theatrics. “I tried. I really did try.”

“So try harder!”

“How can I when youh won’t let me?” came my quiet reply. I gazed at him with all my walls down, keen to unnerve him. I needed him right in the palm of my hand again. “Youh won’t even let me make love to youh…”

“…I’m here now,” he whispered.

“Is that supposed to mean sumthin’?”

“Yes…you know it does.”

“What does it mean? Huh?” I drew a little closer. He rubbed his face anxiously.

“You know…”

“Noh, Haz, I don’t. Explain it to me.”

“I can’t—”

“Not fair. It’s not gonna just happen like that. After all the shit you’ve put me through these last several months? Half a yearh? You gotta come harder than that, broh.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Say it. Say it for me, babe…it’s the least youh could do.”


“Just say it Haz. Say it, please. I need to hear it…”

“I…I’m so sorry…I can’t…” he whimpered pathetically. “I can’t, Z. I don’t know why I can’t. Just please forgive me…let’s just move past this…please…”

“Noh…” I didn’t give a fuck how cold-hearted I was being. It was time to show him who was really in control here. I was done marching to his mindless, indecisive fucking tune. “If you really want me, you’re gonna have to tell me. Say it, Haz, or else get the fuck out of my room. I’m worth a few lousy words, ain’t I?”

I knew how mortifying those words were for someone who’d been on a high horse for six months straight and pretending he could live without me. I knew that by forcing him to verbalize his defeat I was being cruel and caustic, but some grim part of me wanted to hear the humiliation in his voice when he finally capitulated. I was it for him. I knew it and he knew it, despite him denying that fact for months. Time for him to pay up. I wanted to see his petty ass squirm.

“Say it, youh arrogant bastard! I’m right here waitin’ when youh do. That’s the only time youh can have me again! When youh realize how much of a dickhead youh are and how much youh fuckin need me too!” He grew red all over and started punching himself in the head, but still it wasn’t enough for me.

“Say it Haz! Or are youh that much of a coward?!” Suddenly he grabbed me and tried to kiss me, but I wouldn’t let him. I shoved him away and it felt amazing to be the one putting the distance between us now. But that really set him off. In a flurry of rage, he knocked the lamp off the table by the door, then punched a hole into the tv. The glass dented and the visuals were destroyed. Holy shit, he wasn’t fucking around.

“Oh, wow, broh, you’re such a big fuckin’ maan for that, huh? Well I can break shit too youh know!” At that I picked up a large vase of flowers from the coffee table and shattered it against the nearest wall. Glass and water and purple petals sprayed everywhere.

“Not gonna work this time!” I shouted. “Your tantrums don’t affect me anymore—” Rather abruptly, he pushed past me and moved to the balcony which overlooked eight stories and the heart of downtown Rio. Before I could figure out what the hell was going on, he climbed over the balustrade and was haphazardly hanging on with his fingertips. I shot forward, sputtering incoherently in a gut-wrenching shock before finding the right words.

“Haz what the fuckkk are youh doin’?! Stop it! Get back in in here right fuckin’ now!” He wouldn’t say a word. He just looked at me with a tearful grimace, and I knew he wasn’t in control of his actions. It was the liquor thinking for him, and in his mind this was the only rational solution to tonight’s troubles. I instantly regretted upsetting him further. My heart was like a knot in my throat that I could only wheeze around. I kept seeing him falling before my very eyes.

“You’re such a fuckin’ child! Stop it, please! Please!” He took one hand off of the stone in a threatening manner, and was now only hanging on my a few weakening fingertips. My insides liquified. I was so horrified I became paralyzed where I stood. He stared at me like a lunatic, and in many ways I sensed this wasn’t a game for him. Deep down he had maybe been contemplating these sorts of things all along, and was using this moment as a vehicle to tell me. More than anything, it was a cry for help.

Ever since he lifted his other hand from the stone, all I saw was him falling. There was less than a fraction of a second to undo his letting go. Not nearly enough time for me to physically reach him. Everything had come down to this one moment. All that Harry Styles was, and all we had become together would be leveled by this single mindless act of violence against himself.

When I snapped out of it, I lunged and grabbed ahold of him and he clung to me, ripping my shirt in his desperation not to fall. I summoned a freakish strength and pulled him back over on my own, since he was too afraid to move and climb over himself. We collapsed onto the ground, he atop me, panting for dear life. I looked up at him through a haze of exertion and disbelief, and he stared at me in awe, his incredulity mirroring mine.

Neither of us wanted to discuss how sick and monstrous he was for what he had done. And I wasn’t looking to make him feel any worse. Didn’t want to add to the reasons that had driven him to do something so foolish. I touched his face, moving a few long strands behind his ear so I could see his eyes, and with that single gesture, he broke down and sobbed against my chest like a lost little boy. His breath reeked of alcohol. He was unwellDisordered. Someone so horrified by rejection and so frantic to be loved he was willing to fling himself off a high-rise if he didn’t get his way. Someone who truthfully belonged in a clinic to battle the demons that seemed to run far deeper than our relationship woes. I don’t believe I’d caused them, but I was quite aware I’d made them worse, and for that I was truthfully sorry.

How could I make him understand that. He just wouldn’t stop crying. He was running out of breath. He was hiccupping and choking and soaking my shirt with his tears. I had no clue what was going on, but knew my job right now was to hold him. I couldn’t fuck this up. I sat up and pulled him more securely into my arms, settling him between my legs, crushing him with all fours.

After a while he calmed down and all I could hear was his tremulous breathing. I thought he might’ve been asleep, but when I moved, he moved, settling more securely onto my chest. That meant I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, but the concrete was really hurting my boney ass.

“It doesn’t make sense….” he puzzled. “When I’m with you…I just feel like I’m falling. Nonstop. It puts an awful pit in my stomach, because I can never land. Just plunging over complete nothingness. And I can feel it…you’re falling too. You can’t control it any better than I can. But whenever I’m not with you, I’m plummeting. Falling faster than before. All by myself. And I can feel the bottom approaching. I’m gonna hit it so hard there’ll be nothing of me left. I try to claw my way back up into thin air, but there is simply no hope. It feels really final, and I’m always so alone. No matter how many people I surround myself with, when you’re gone, I only feel alone.” It was the most sober and fluid he’d ever spoken. “Kendall didn’t for one second make me feel less alone. All she offered was some cheap, temporary fix that lost its novelty early on. Do you realize how much it scared me that a girl this beautiful and this desired by every man on the planet couldn’t satisfy me? That when I looked at her, your stupid fucking name leapt to my lips? That she looked so much like you it gave me nightmares? It took all I was to keep from calling her by your name, so I just had to set her down as gently as I could and walk away. Before she got hurt. I’m so sick of always worrying about other people, Zayn. Why am I always the one left hurt?? I can’t win either way. With or without you. So the best thing I can do for now is stay with you. It’s the only time I feel barely ok. I don’t want to crash alone.”

“Baby…” I breathed, choking up. At an utter loss for words.

“Please don’t let go of me…”

“Never…” was all I could manage. He raised up a little until our foreheads met.

“I can’t let go of you,” he hyperventilated. “I can’t fucking let go of you…” I shut my eyes, body crawling with pain. This was unimaginably hurtful. 

“Youh don’t have to…” I muttered, hoping to reassure him.

When I finally got him up off the floor, we stumbled inside and over to the bed. He plopped down on its edge and looked up at me with tear-swollen eyes. He asked me so softly if I was going to take care of him. 

“Of course, baby. Don’t I always take care of youh?” I watched him lay back and scoot to the edge of the mattress, shoving his waistband down below his semi-hard so that it sprung up and awaited my attention. I grabbed a pillow and plopped it onto the floor before kneeling between his legs. I pulled his shorts off his ass, just far enough for access to the parts that mattered. Then I brushed his shirt up his belly, and he grabbed my hands when the sensation tickled him. He let go when I started to trace the leaves at his hips, kissing up his treasure trail and dipping my tongue into his belly button. His skin was so soft and warm I whimpered into it involuntarily, telling him how much I’d missed this.

Now I took his massive cock into my hand, pumping it worshipfully before playing my parted lips against the head. So huge, so gorgeous. Feeling it out. Kissing up the shaft. Nuzzling his glorious balls. All mine. I’d missed this too fucking much.

“Baby….” I breathed, kissing the head so tenderly he scratched up and down his down thighs in anticipation. I allowed my tongue to torture him, directing all my attention to the tip, flicking it so languidly he sat up and shuddered like he was having some sort of seizure. He didn’t want to come too soon, so he shoved my head onto the rest of him, and I gladly chocked down his length for the first time in six months. Fuck he felt too right being inside of me. Tickling my uvula. Filling my silky confines. Pressuring my jaws. So many wonderful flavors I’d become unacquainted with after too long, which I looked forward to getting to know again. Already the salty cloy of his precum formed a delicious tang on my tongue, defibrillating my tastebuds and causing me to salivate like a starving dog.

More, more, more...” I muttered drunkenly. 

Soaking his shorts, I inhaled the fumes of chlorine wafting from his hot flesh. Drool spilled from my mouth while I whimpered around him, dragging his rigid, sugary flesh in and out of my skull, tongue swirling around the tip upon every withdrawal. He pulsated with rigor, throbbing inside my mouth. The sight and textures of his engorged meat turned me on so intensely I was ready to come hands-free. As I worked without thought of my own comfort, cramming him down my esophagus, he shouted and his hips bucked repeatedly, confusing my rhythm and forcing even more of him inside. When he came he held my head in place and it extruded down my throat in several milky spurts. I gagged but relished the ungodly intimate sensation. The feel of him spilling into my gut me was fucking marvelous. Eyes watering, I could do nothing but gaze up at him in search of approval. God I wanted to please him more than anything.

Later that night we lay facing each other, sharing a single pillow. He’d scooted over to my side of the bed and now wouldn’t break eye contact with me to save his life.

“Maan…Kendall’s gonna be pissed…”

“Shuddup,” he chuckled, hiding his face.

(Thanks for reading!❤️)

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Felice Cherry Wingate
Felice Cherry Wingate
5 months ago


error: Nope!
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