#eeeeeeeeeeeeeeep

It wasn’t like things had ended badly between us, not really. It wasn’t like we’d argued, broken up, ended our affair bitterly. He’d kissed me one last time at his front door, the LA sun burning my skin, wistful words trapped between our lips and lost between touches that somehow felt empty. We hadn’t spoken since. So maybe it was foolish of me, to think he’d get in touch. He had told me he was going to be busy. I should have known that I wouldn’t be playing on his mind, he wouldn’t have even had the time to be thinking about me, to even give a fuck that it was my birthday. Maybe I just wished I was the type of person who could stick. Maybe I just wished I was the type of woman that Harry could put some time aside for. Maybe. I hadn’t received a birthday text from him since my sixteenth birthday. I don’t know why I thought my 23rd year would have been any different. “For fuck sake.” I whispered to myself. “Why do you even care?” I’d been trying not to think of him. I’d been really fucking trying. There was still nothing more than silence in terms of his career, which meant I bitterly questioned if he really was too busy to spend time with me. I wasn’t asking for much, just something. I’d grown frustratingly attached to the arrangement we’d had. I’d grown frustratingly attached to him. I needed to get over it. I needed to move on and try to forget that the whole thing had ever happened, but I was struggling. I’d allowed myself to get attached to him, and I was furious with myself for it because there was never a chance something between us would end in any other way than it had. I wasn’t sure how him texting me would even make me feel better. Actually, I knew for a fact it was likely to make me feel worse. So I don’t know why I was waiting on it. I don’t know why I was waiting on a boy I’d cut ties with. But I was. So I sat there, hearing the clock on my wall ticking, watching my phone, waiting, hoping. The message I’d been hoping for never came.

Part Two

My eyes kept flicking down to the bottom right of my computer screen, eager for another tedious day at the office to end. It was possibly the slowest ten minutes of my life. Georgina, who sat on the desk across from me, had been glancing from her screen to me, back and forth, for what felt like a lifetime. I was just ignoring it. The two of us weren’t necessarily friends; we were more or less the definition of colleagues. But I could almost see that she had a question for me that was stuck on the tip of her tongue, bulging in her mouth to the point where I thought she might choke on the damn thing. I literally breathed a sigh of relief when she finally spoke. “Lulu, will you come here please?” I leapt to my feet immediately, excited for a little bit of time wasting to pass the final few minutes before I could go home. I scuttled around to her, hoping that she’d want me to help with some mundane task or something else equally as boring. My stomach dropped when I saw why she actually wanted me. “Is that you?” She had open some shitty Daily Mail article, built entirely from a select few pictures the paps had managed to snap at the beginning of February at Harry’s birthday party. And there I was, in the background, trailing a few steps behind the man himself. I considered lying for a second, saying it wasn’t me, but there wasn’t a chance in hell it would work. It was blatantly obvious that it was me, and on top of that they all knew where I’d grown up. It didn’t take much to put two and two together. “Uh… Yeah. Yeah that’s me.” I choked. “You know Harry Styles?” She gawped. “An old friend.” It was insane how uncomfortable I felt. I hadn’t told anyone about what had gone on between myself and Harry, not even my closest friends. The privacy of our affair had been what kept me relatively sane throughout the entire thing. I didn’t want people to know, because it was bound to bring in this ridiculous nosiness. It was bound force people to forget my right to privacy and secrecy and just start asking me to reveal everything to them, just because he was famous. I cursed those fucking paps. To be honest, I cursed the entire fucking trip to LA. “Are you his girlfriend? I read an article saying he has a secret girlfriend.” “Article.” I sniggered. “I think you’re playing it a little fast and loose using the word article for the shit that the Daily Mail come up with.” “ARE YOU? Oh my god, you’re his secret girlfriend.” “Um, no. If he does have one, it’s not me.” “Well you must be pretty close if you went out to LA for his birthday.” “Um… You would think so but, no. Not really. We’re just… old friends. We like to catch up sometimes, but I actually don’t see much of him.” She kept glancing between me and the screen, a look on her face that was almost smug. I was getting more and more uncomfortable by the second. “Well if you’re not his girlfriend, then there’s no harm in you giving him my number, right?” I tried to laugh it off, but the noise that came out of me was so shockingly forced, the girl must have been worried for my mental health. I trailed back to my desk, keener on actually doing work than continuing the conversation any further, but I could bloody tell she wasn’t done. Her eyes were still wide, biting her bottom lip, clicking her pen at an alarming rate as she tried to think up some more questions for me. “When are you seeing him next?” “I don’t have any plans to see him.” I shrugged, swallowing my sadness. “What’s he like?” “Nice.” “Does he live in LA?” “Does it matter?” I huffed. “Why are you being so secretive?” “Because it’s not actually any of your business.” I spat, losing my temper. “I mean, fuck. Do you really think I’m just going to tell you everything about his life?” “That’s part of the deal when you’re famous.” “And part of the deal with your work colleagues is to mind your own damn business and keep your personal shit at home, so can we drop it?” I’d managed to bring in the eyes of the people surrounding us, some of them nodding along like I had every right to say what I just had, and others looking at me like I’d lost my damn mind. I think I was somewhere between the two. “There’s no need to be so touchy.” She eventually scowled, rolling her eyes at me. “There’s no need to be so intrusive.” A boy a few desks down from me let out a loud blurt of laughter before immediately stopping himself, but shooting me a smile that said he completely had my back. I smiled back before looking back at my computer screen, before finishing the day in total silence. Thankfully, she’d given up trying to get more information out of me. I’d never been so glad to get out of the office. The sea breeze toyed merrily with my hair as I made my journey home, grabbing my phone out of my bag and deciding to give Susan Lambert a call. She answered within seconds. “Hello, my love!” She beamed. “Hi mum! Y’alright?” “I’m not too bad, how are you?” “I’m good. I’m alright. Shit day at work.” “Why so?” “Just… work in general is shit.” “I have an idea…” “Mum, don’t-” “Just quit and move back home!” This was something my mum suggested to me often. At least once a week. I knew she got lonely. Since I’d left for uni, she had slowly gathered a small collection of cats, three rescues and two more that belonged to her neighbours who she liked to feed and shelter regardless. She hated the fact that I’d chosen to move away, but I didn’t want to be the type of person who limited her own experiences and life choices to please someone else, but sometimes I did feel guilty for leaving her on her own. And a lot of the time, I really did miss Cheshire. “What the fuck am I supposed to do in Holmes Chapel?” I groaned. “Work in the bakery, or work in the pub? OR, work in the bakery, or work in the pub?” “You could just travel into Manchester! It’s hardly a long commute.” “I know I could. I know.” I sighed. “Harry has been here. He was asking about you.” My stomach had never dropped so quickly just at the sound of someone’s name. I stopped walking immediately, my insides churning as I looked down to my feet, feeling my legs go weak and my head form an ache I hadn’t been expecting. I cursed under my breath. “He’s been in Holmes Chapel?” I quaked. “Yeah! He’s been here for a few weeks now.” “Okay. I thought he’d been busy with all the solo stuff, but…” I hated myself for even caring. I hated myself for the fact that I hadn’t even considered his ‘I’ll be too busy’ spiel might have been complete bullshit. The boy had been with his family in Holmes Chapel for weeks and I hadn’t heard a single thing from him. Holmes Chapel was where he went when he had free time. Everyone knew that. I felt sick. “He asked if you were going to be home at any point.” My mother continued. “I didn’t know what to tell him.” “Well if you see him again, tell him no. I’m not coming back any time soon.” “Are you sure?” “Yes, I’m sure.” I finally took off again, my stomach still in shreds. “Well, it would be nice to see you. So if you change your mind, just let me know, okay?” “I will.” I sounded as defeated as I felt. “Okay, mum, I gotta go. Speak soon, alright?” “Okay, Sweetie. Have a good night!” “You too. Bye.” I let out an almighty sigh as soon as I hung up the phone, now wishing I hadn’t even bothered calling. It wasn’t like I was ever going to tell my mum about what had happened between myself and Harry, which meant that she was always going to fondly mention him, like she had done since the first time she met him when he was only eleven years old. I realised in that moment that I would always have to deal with people speaking fondly of him. It was something I’d once enjoyed, but with the way I’d been feeling since LA, it was something I could do without. Another reason not to go back to Holmes Chapel. The entire town had become a damn shrine to the boy. I’d get used to it, eventually. I’d have to get used to it. But I was still in my bitter stage. I practically kicked the pavement all the way home, completely out of breath by the time I’d reached the top of my hill, and even more so once I’d reached the top of the stairs leading to my block of flats. I was more than ready to sulk the rest of my evening away, but Harry Styles had other plans. I turned the corner and stopped in my tracks immediately, because he was there. Down on the floor, back and head against my door, fast asleep with his knees tucked up and mouth dropped open, was Harry Styles. “What the fuck.” I whispered to myself. I couldn’t physically move. I was completely fixed on my spot, watching the minor twitches of his body thanks to his uncomfortable slumber. A strand of hair had fallen over his forehead, somehow making him look even more beautiful than I remembered, and tried to force myself to forget. His jeans were ripped at the knees, a Pink Floyd t-shirt tight on his toned frame and riding up his stomach just slightly. Seeing that t-shirt reminded me of the time when we’d both routed through his dad’s old vinyl collection and he’d discovered Dark Side of the Moon for the first time, almost ruining the record as he tried to drop the needle onto it smoothly, and he’d fallen in love with it immediately. I could picture the moment perfectly, watching his eyes widen and his lips part as soon as those noises began, lying beside him on the floor in his attic. I could see him falling in love, completely entranced and blown away by everything he was hearing. I hated it when memories of the two of us rushed back to me. I hated being reminded of the fact that the two of us had shared more together than I ever cared to admit. I also hated the fact I still hadn’t moved a muscle. “What do I do? What do I do?” I mumbled frantically to myself. “Should I wake him up? Should I run away? What the fuck?” I took a few nervous steps forward, spotting a rucksack down by his side. The headache I’d developed earlier increased, questions of why he had appeared at my door whirring through my mind and creating a dull and prominent thud. I finally reached him, crouching down in front of him and taking a deep breath in before I reached out, gently shaking the boy back to life. My heart was in my throat as he slowly let his eyes flicker open, and I swear, the dozy smile that graced his face as soon as he saw me almost forced tears into my eyes. “Little Lulu Lamb,” He grumbled, his voice raspy and weak. “You’re here!” “Well, this is where I live.” I laughed breathily. “I was bound to turn up eventually.” “Time is it?” His bottom lip jutted as he rubbed over his left eye with the back of his hand. “Just past five.” “Been here for six hours.” He grumbled. “You’re insane!” “Missed you. Needed to see you.” I dropped my head as he began to come around fully, falling back with a thud so I was comfortable on the floor rather than unbalanced on my feet, wanting to feel happy that he was there, telling me he’d missed me, but I couldn’t. I just felt confused. He rubbed his eyes one final time before staring at me from his spot, brows low. “You don’t look as happy as I was hoping you would.” “Sorry,” I sighed, cracking my neck. “I’m just… A bit confused.” “Why?” “What do you mean why, Haz?” I scowled. “Because we drew a line under this a month ago. We haven’t even spoken to each other, and now you’re fucking… asleep against my front door. Of course I’m confused!” “But… I missed you.” He grumbled. “Yeah, you fucking said that already.” The only reason Harry seemed confused was because I wasn’t jumping for joy over his sudden appearance. He just seemed so nonchalant about the entire thing, like he literally couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that I was baffled by his appearance. For Harry, it was as simple as the fact he had missed me. He didn’t need any more than that. He swallowed nervously. “You mad at me?” He spoke quietly, not taking his eyes off me. “I’m not mad at you. Of course not. I’m just… just confused.” “I’d hate it if you were mad at me.” “What are you doing here?” I sighed, finally finding the strength to look back at him. “I just… I really wanted to see you. I’m sorry. I-I hope that’s okay.” I shot him a disgruntled look, wishing I had it in me to tell him that it wasn’t okay, and I needed some kind of clarification about what we were, where we stood, what the fuck was going on, before I even considered letting him inside my flat. But I’d rather have had him there, even if it was just for the night, instead of scaring him off by being honest about how I’d been feeling for the past month. I slowly got back up on my feet, offering my hand to him once I was upright. He took it quickly, grabbing his bag with his free hand, and his smile wide as soon as he was on his feet, looking down to me with those bulb eyes. I removed my gaze from his as quickly as I could, almost knocking into him as I rushed to the front of my door, grabbing my keys out of my bag and letting the two of us into my home. I thought back to LA, when that moment arrived, where we were just staring at one another like we had just been out in the hall. Our answer when we were in LA, was to kiss one another, pressed up against his car, fevered and fraught and aching for one another. My answer this time was to avoid his stare. We both sensed the difference He hadn’t been there since July, and even though the last time he’d arrived was embarrassing enough, since I’d been to his house in LA I felt even more embarrassed. Besides, I hadn’t exactly been expecting guests. The small space I had was cluttered with plates and glasses and discarded clothes and the whole thing was a damn mess. He didn’t seem to notice. I threw my bag onto the sofa, turning around to see him again, and his eyes were fixed on me. “How’ve you been?” He questioned, continuing to move closer to me. “Good. Fine. Really good.” I lied. “You?” He shrugged, putting his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and then not saying a word. I mimicked his actions sarcastically. “The fuck does that mean?” I scowled. “You are mad at me. I knew it.” “Why would I be?” “You know why.” “Nope. I need you to tell me.” “Because I ended this in LA-” “This?” I cried. “THIS! US! You thought it was done but now I’m here and you’re mad.” “Fine. Maybe I am mad.” I growled, folding my arms like a child. “Yeah well, I’m mad at you!” “What the fuck have I done?” I almost screamed. “How the hell was I supposed to know you would give a fuck about this ending when you didn’t even have the guts to tell me you’d miss me! How am I supposed to know you’d even care?” I couldn’t believe that in July, I’d seen him there, stood in the same spot. That was the first time I’d seen him in years. And in the following March, between the same walls, we were screaming at each other, angry over feelings we’d never expected to have and didn’t dare to share. I could barely recognise the two innocent childhood friends we had been only a few months before. Still feeling stubborn and angry, I fell silent, trying to think of something I could snap back at him, but I couldn’t find the words. “How was I supposed to know that you’d be angry when you don’t tell me how you feel until it’s too late.” He continued. “You barely expressed a fucking emotion until today. How am I supposed to know, Lulu?” “Fuck off, Harry.” I groaned, rolling my eyes. “You think telling me you’re going to miss me is enough? I don’t have a clue how you’re feeling either. I’m not the only one who doesn’t say how I’m feeling!” “Every time we’ve met, it’s been my idea.” His voice was rising. “Every fucking time, it’s been me who suggested it. I told you I missed you. I told you I trusted you, more than I trust so many other people in my life. I made myself completely fucking vulnerable with you. Just because I didn’t say exactly what you wanted to hear doesn’t mean I didn’t say anything.” Without meaning to, I softened, that vulnerability he mentioned shining through again. There was this weird look on his face, like the pain of what he was saying and feeling was creasing his brows and clenching his jaw. I let out a gasp of air, my heart aching. “I missed you so much.” I was finally honest, and it felt like a relief. “I think about you all the time.” “I cleared my schedule and went back to Holmes Chapel just… fucking hoping you’d be there.” He admitted, voice low again. “Killed me when you weren’t.” “What… What does this mean, Harry?” “I… I don’t know.” He tried. “I guess… I can’t turn my back on this. I thought I could but… I dunno. All I know is I miss you when you’re not around. I don’t like… leaving you without a plan to see you again. That’s all I know.” I nodded, looking down to the floor as he finally came to a standstill just a step ahead of me. My headache was actually even worse than it was before. “You actually… gunna tell me how you feel?” He asked, a hint of desperation in his tone, but I stayed silent. “Lulu, please-” “This is so much more complicated that I’d bargained for, Haz.” I groaned, refusing to look up at him. “I know, but-” “Well it’s going to get to the stage where you can’t just… clear your schedule and turn up at my front door. What then?” “I don’t know.” “THEN WHY ARE YOU HERE NOW?” I screamed, losing myself. “THIS IS GOING TO END! THIS IS NEVER GOING TO FUCKING WORK, SO WHY ARE YOU HERE?” He closed the small gap between us, grabbing my cheeks and forcing his lips on mine. I pushed at his chest, feeling tears fill my eyes and taking a few more steps away from him, his touch burning my lips. “Lu-” “NO! You don’t just get to kiss me because you don’t know what to say!” “I’M SAYING MORE THAN YOU’RE SAYING!” He yelled, forming fists down by his sides. “YOU STILL DON’T DARE SAY HOW YOU FEEL! Fuck, Lulu… Just… I feel so fucking exposed when I’m with you… and you’re still… fuck.” It didn’t matter that Harry was the one making himself vulnerable. Not to me, anyway. Because Harry was still the one who would be off traveling the world. Harry was the one who would leave and end this, no matter how he was feeling, no matter how vulnerable he felt he was being. I would be the one who felt stranded, no matter what I said or how I was feeling. So even though he was begging me to say how I felt, and even though voicing my thoughts and my feelings wouldn’t change them, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. He stood silently waiting for me, hoping I could summon the strength to just say something to him. I remained quiet. “I can’t do this.” He grumbled eventually, picking up his rucksack again. “I’m just gunna go.” “Fine.” “Fine.” Our shoulders knocked together as he pushed past me. I didn’t watch him leave, but as soon as the door slammed shut, I burst into tears. I was so angry at myself for being so spineless. I was angry that I’d chosen to stand there and say nothing when there were a million things that had ran through my mind over the past month that I wished I’d shared with him. I had literally hoped that he would turn up at my door, and then he did and I couldn’t force myself to have to stomach to do anything other than shout and place the blame. I sobbed loudly, pressing the palms of my hands against my eyes and trying to compose myself, my whole body feeling deteriorated by the interaction we’d just had. I’d forced all my anger on him, when in reality the only person I was angry at was myself. I wiped at my face with my sleeves, trying to clear my tears and forget any of it had ever happened. Then there was a timid knock on the door. I turned rapidly, my heart leaping up into my throat, approaching without even realising fully that I was even moving. When I opened the door, more tears fell, seeing how completely shattered Harry looked. He was perfectly still, eyes low, frame weak, eyes down to the floor. But he looked right into my eyes before he spoke. “Lulu, I think I’m falling in love with you.” I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him, because it was the only thing I could do. Still without saying a single thing, I kissed him, tears still streaming down my cheeks and my entire body shaking. Kissing him was the only thing that made sense.

Part Three

With a blanket thrown over my arm, and two glasses of wine in my hands, I scurried out onto the balcony to join Harry, who was sat watching the sea and ignoring the cold. I sat on his knee, passing him the glasses as I threw the blanket across the two of us in the hope of blocking some of the cold, Harry kissing my cheek before he passed a glass back to me, holding me close. We had kissed until my lips felt swollen, until I no longer had any tears left to cry. We kissed to cover our lack of words, until we knew it could no longer last. All I knew was that it would be much easier for me to finally spill my guts with wine filling the space to replace the words I had yet to say. We allowed a small stream of silence where we just sat together and just stared at the view ahead of us. It was almost eerily quiet, something we were both used to after growing up in such a small village. He'd once told me it was something he missed, just being somewhere completely quiet, where you could forget there were other lives existing around you. I could tell that he was enjoying immersing himself in that feeling again, even if it was just for a short while. “I know I’m a dick for just turning up like this.” Harry sighed eventually. “M’sorry.” “You’re not a dick.” I shook my head, snuggling a little closer to him. “I just… I never said a fucking thing so… obviously you wouldn’t know what say or… do. So, I’m sorry.” “You ready to talk?” He turned his head my way. “Um… probably not.” I chuckled. “Don’t think I have a choice, do I?” “I mean… I’d prefer it if you said something.” He smiled gently. “But you don’t have to.” I decided to be as painfully honest with him as I physically could. And not just solely about what the two of us were going through, but about something I hadn’t managed to admit out loud since I was thirteen years old. “I’ve struggled to… talk about how I’m feeling ever since my dad died.” I swallowed. “Just… I dunno. I just kinda… turn in on myself instead.” He lay his head on my shoulder, trying to form some words. Somehow, Harry always managed to find something to say. “I remember when it happened.” He sighed. “I didn’t find out for weeks. You never spoke about it. You just… disappeared for a while.” “Not sure I ever came back,” I spoke uncomfortably. “Not really.” “I remember for weeks afterwards I was just… waiting for you to say something. But, I don’t think you ever even said his name again. You just… shut it all out.” I could feel my nostrils flaring as I looked down to my lap, watching his hand as he moved to place his fingers between mine, squeezing my hand, comforting me in the only way he could think how. “It was easier that way.” I choked, wiping my few tears away before they started to fall. “And I just… I stayed that way. I hate talking about how I feel. I hate even thinking about it.” “I should have… I should have figured that out. Sorry.” “Haz, stop saying you’re sorry.” I sighed. “It’s probably time I start dealing with it, right?” “I don’t-” “I feel like I’ve… felt something… like I’ve liked you you since I was fucking twelve years old, Harry.” I spat out nervously. “This whole thing has somehow just felt like… a long time coming. But I’m scared.” “Scared of what?” “Scared that you just see me as a representation of… a life you used to have. Because I don’t fit into the lifestyle you have now. I’m not even close to fitting into it. I never will be.” He looked back out towards the ocean, biting his bottom lip a little nervously. Because we both knew that was true. Harry had fallen hard for a girl from his hometown, someone who felt familiar, and warm. He’d fallen for the idea of me, even before we’d rekindled and he’d gotten to know, and like, the girl I’d become. Niall had informed me of that. He’d told me he knew my name long before any of this even happened. I was scared that Harry liked the idea of me, more than he liked me. “I don’t want you to fit into my fucking lifestyle, Lamb. My lifestyle is fucking fake most of the time. Fake rumours. Fake friends. I want you and I like you, as you are, for a reason.” He bit. “Lulu, you feel like home. Even in London and… fucking LA… you felt like home. That’s not a bad thing, Lulu. I promise.” “I just feel like maybe… you like the thought of me… rather than me.” “Look at me.” He demanded, cupping my cheek and gently forcing my gaze in his direction. “It might have been that way, at one point. Maybe… when I hadn’t seen you for years, because I still thought about you. All the time. But… not now. It’s changed. You know that, Lulu.” I nodded, wondering if maybe I’d been trying to find another way of avoiding the fact that what was happening between me and Harry wasn’t simple, or flippant. There were feelings involved. Deep feelings. Feelings that had been there for years, but altered and changed and grown in just a few months. He moved his lips and pressed them to mine, so delicately my head started to spin, the wind playing with our hair and being the perfect excuse for the goose-bumps that covered my entire body. When he pulled away, he looked deep into my eyes again, brushing his thumb against my lips. “Please tell me you’re falling.” He whispered. “I don’t wanna fall on my own.” I’d never felt so sick in my life over something it was obvious I was feeling, but hadn’t had the gumption to say. But I hadn’t been able to fully spit out my feelings for ten years. It was time I started to try. “I am falling.” I nodded, eyes closed. “I always have been.”

Part Four