Not really sure where i'm going with this chapter, so bear with me. Reviews please, guys. x


"Look here fag. You know where my boy is.."

Harry can still feel the guys nails digging into his chest and the burn on his face, hurting so fucking much, but he still doesn't move.

"You're his best friend, the one who he relies on for so many things, the one he's trusted since he got into the band. He may be the youngest, but he likes it up the arse to, Judd, so don't be all that fucking surprised when he tells you he's gay. I need to speak to him, before the end of next week and I need to know where he's hiding. I need you to tell me where he's hiding. Don't tell him you saw me though or else I'll do you in, hit you so hard that your body will be too weak for you to drum. Then McFly will go down the drain, and it will all be your fault, so just tell me where he is. Ok?"

It's a rhetorical question, but Harry nods anyway, showing he's understood the guy. He's put down, only having a moment to breathe before he gets punched in the face, falling to the ground in pain before getting kicked in the stomach and watching the guy run off. He doesn't move for a while, just laying there in complete silence alone in what was a deserted alleyway.

The music is still blaring out from the doors of the club as people stumble out laughing and having a good time. All Harry wants to do at this point in time is curl up into a ball and never wake up, the pain in his chest is so intense even standing up hurt him. Somehow he managed to get back to the tour bus, ignoring the 'goodnight' from Dougies bunk before climbing into his, still dressed and falling into an uncomfortable sleep.

-the next morning-

Harry sits up slowly, letting out a small whimper as he feels the pain on his stomach. He can hear somebody chewing breakfast in the back lounge and gets up to go and look, finding Tom watching a Disney movie, Toy Story 3, the best one Harry thinks. Harry mutters a morning to the blonde and Tom turns and smiles, showing off his dimple and his cute morning hair before scanning Harry's face carefully, putting down his cereal and climbing off the chair to take a closer look.

"Dude, what happened to you? Who did this, do you know? You're face is like a balloon." Harry rolls his eyes and pushes Tom and his never ending questions away from him to go and find some paracetamol from the cupboards.

"Do you know who did this? Harry seriously you need to get that checked out." Toms firing questions at him, but Harry's ignoring them again, sighing before placing the tablets on his throat and swallowing them down with water, waiting for them to numb the pain.

"Tom please, i've got a headache as well so stop. No, I don't know the guy other wise i'd be calling the police." Harry lies, making Tom quieten down a little before he speaks again.

"Can I at least take a lot at them more carefully?" and Harry nods, rolling his eyes and pulling his top off before feeling a cold shoot near one of his ribs. Tom's got some ice and is carefully dabbing it around Harry's bruises.

"It'll make them heal quicker, just so the fans don't see them." He explains, watching a tired Dougie climb out from his bunk and comes to investigate what the two are doing. He stares for a moment, eyes drifting over Harry's bruised chest before Harry is pushed out of the way and Dougie's fingers are running down the drummers chest.

"What the fuck happened to you?" He whispers, still shocked at the way Harry looks.

"Some guy attacked me outside the club last night, obviously doesn't like gays. But don't worry though Doug, its just a few bruises." Harry smiles, standing up to pull his top back on before patting the blondes back.

"That is not just a few bruises Harry! He could have killed you! We need to get you to hospital! You need to call the police, dude."

"No. No way, that can't happen. Just leave it, they'll go down in a few days. I'll be fine soon, at least I'm alive." Harry smiles at the bassist, congratulating himself on his quick save silently before grabbing his towel and going to shower.

Too close, he thinks. Way too close.