During The X Factor (One Direction)

Chapter 15 - Back To Normal?

Harry’s laughing. I had missed his laugh. Cute and so adorable, like how a small child would laugh at the most immature of things.

His arms are wrapped tightly around me, squishing my ribcage, his head buried into my shoulder. I can feel his warm breath on my neck as he laughs.

I can’t see a thing over his shoulder, but I’m sure I can hear some giggling coming from the door at the end of the hall. I immediately assume it’s the childlike giggles of the rest of the One Direction clan.

Still tightly gripping my arms, Harry kicks the front door closed with his foot and it bangs loudly.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” he tells me, clinging to my jumper.

He pushes us apart and looks me up and down, almost as if he can’t believe his eyes and that I’m really here, willing to forgive him.

“Are you…crying?” he says to me warily, noticing the tears forming in my eyes.

“Little bit, yeah,” I laugh.

Don’t let him see you cry! He’ll think you’re weak!

My brain seems to think that it’s a boxing coach, now. Woo.

Harry doesn’t mind me crying a little, though. I’m just hoping he doesn’t call me soppy again. I look at his face and his mouth twitches into a smile, and I have to look away before I start laughing uncontrollably.

I look everywhere but at him and, trust me, I can confirm this fact for you: the X Factor house is a pigsty. 

Even in the hall, there are a few empty food packets by the walls and piles of clothes thrown about here and there. It’s like someone had a drunken party on the stairs.

“Sorry about the mess…without Mary around, we don’t get forced to clean up.” Harry says smiling shyly. I think I’m imagining it, but I think Harry is…embarrassed? Wow…

“Harry, it’s fine, I’ve seen your bedroom, remember?”

We’re laughing. It’s like we’re back in Harry’s living room, months ago, throwing cushions and sipping hot chocolate together - like we’re still the best of friends. I stare up at him, hoping that those moments aren’t lost forever.

“Right, well, we need to find somewhere where we can talk…” he tells me. Eventually he decides that the best direction to take would be the stairs, after about a year of debating whether or not he could trust me in the same room as his band mates. 

Harry leads me up the stairs and down the landing, telling me who had lived in which room,

“Ahh, this’ll do.” he says, stopping abruptly, “Used to be Belle Amie’s room,” Harry tells me.

Like a gentleman, he holds the door open and gestures for my to enter first.

“So, where are the other contestants? Panicking about the finals?” I ask, perching myself on the edge of the nearest bed.

“No doubt the guys are in the living room, being weird,” he says with a happy smile, “Matt and Bex are rehearsing, and Cher’s locked up in her room.”

I know that this happy atmosphere is going to evaporate sooner or later, so there isn’t much point in waiting around, I’m going to try and make things quick.

“So…what do we need to talk about?” he asks me, jumping onto the bed and crossing his legs. He reminds me of a hyper little child begging for a bedtime story.

“Us, I guess.”

“…Us?” he says warily.

I sigh, “After that argument, I can’t just go back to how we used to be, Harry. I can’t.” I can feel tears trying to burst their way to the surface of my face, but I’m not going to let them…yet.