One Last Time - I'll Make It Feel Like Home

Chapter 16 - Harry

After that dreadful meeting with Simon, we all went home. By ourselves.

We stopped by Zayn's place to get our things, but also making sure he was ok after he broke down in the lobby, before Niall drove us all to where he picked us up two days ago.

I was met with a ticket after saying goodbye. Just great.

I've been trying to come up with solutions and loopholes from where I've been seated for the past five hours. The sofa will probably have a permanent indent of my arse.

But I have come up with absolutely nothing.

There are no loopholes in sight. No hoops to jump through. No missteps made from their side. I spoke briefly with Niall on the phone around two hours ago. He was just as hopeless as me.

How did this happen?

The broken question Zayn whispered has been circulating my mind ever since it reached my ears. How did this happen indeed?

How did we end up here, again?

We've been stuck with contracts, PR and whatever else management has thrown our way for almost 11 fucking years. And now that we were finally almost out of them, Simon somehow manages to get our labels to drop us. leaving us with no other choice than to follow their every direction.

One of the contracts we signed when we went on hiatus, said that we were free to sign with other labels, but as long as our contracts with Modest and Syco still stood we'd have an obligation to them.

Which they now used to the full extent by forcing us back into their suffocating hold.

The various contracts Zayn signed when he left the band apparently said the same things.

I guess we were stupid to think we'd get our happy ending. Any of us.

We can't break the contract either. If we did, we would be sued for mentioning One Direction publicly. Or singing our own fucking music made with them. Our entire career, everything we've done would be stolen from us. Not to mention the millions of pounds we'd have to pay for breaking the contract.

We can't speak about them to anyone. Not even our families in case they went ahead and blabbered it to the world.

It makes me nauseous just thinking about it all. Meaning I've had the urge to throw up since 12 o'clock today.

I resorted to my trusted bottle around 30 minutes ago.

It's already half empty. Or full. Depends on how you see it.

But not even the poison coursing through my veins can numb the dreadful feeling crushing me alive.

The fear and sadness come in waves. Leaving me paralyzed for minutes before the void of anything takes over for a while. Then comes the anger.

Burning, white-hot anger making it a struggle not to tear my house down. When it dies down, the loneliness settles in.

That's when I've tried calling Zayn, Liam, Louis and Niall. To check in on how they're doing. But they don't pick up. Except for the one time Niall did. To be honest, they're all probably trying to drown themselves in alcohol as well.

Then comes guilt. I feel so fucking guilty.

Louis signed that dumb, fucking contract. Two days after I left like the fucking coward I am. I just fucking left him.

I don't even know the exact reason why I did it. I think I might have been scared of what we'd be without the band. If it'd be the same. If we'd drift apart. What our solo careers would do to us.