Dream On [HS.AU]

Chapter Four

Halle Henry

I woke up with a hangover, slept for two hours on the bus to the next state, never spoke a word to anybody until we arrived at the venue. Harry rushed off to do soundcheck and I bought myself a black coffee, new lighter and a copy of the Roses and Thorns magazine.

I found a quiet room at the back of the venue with a couch, and I sat in there, flicking through this magazine that realistically does more bad than good. It's a habit just as bad as smoking. Once you see your name on one of these pages you're constantly searching to find it again, even if you tell yourself that's not what you're searching for.

Page 8; "Halle Henry released her new single 'Misery Business' last night. The single is the first to be released off of her album rumoured to drop this summer, and already, people are making speculations over who the song is about. With lyrics like 'he was the only one for me, two weeks and we had caught on fire', ' I never meant to brag,but I got him where I want him now' and even 'I watched his wildest dreams come true', we're beginning to speculate that it might be about none other than Harry Styles."

So in the very few days I've been on tour, I've managed to write, produce, record, and release a single?

A knock at the door startles me, so I sit up and the door creaks open. It wasn't Mick or one of the sound guys asking me to do a quick soundcheck. It was Harry, and judging by the bags beneath his eyes and the purple circles contrasting against the green of his irises, he was feeling the same way I was right now. Insanely hungover that is.

"Didn't know you were in here. Sorry." He says, sighing when he realises this isn't an empty room.

"Wait." I call, causing him to stop in the doorway before he wanders off to find another room to ponder in. "They think that my song is about you."

Harry took a seat next to me, stealing the magazine from my hands and squinting to read the small text in which my name and song is discussed. He smells like cigarettes, and it only makes me crave one more, but my dad always told me hangovers and cigarettes aren't a good mix. It might be false, but the words said by my dad seem to stick with me, so a cigarette doesn't feel like the best idea.

It's a small room, a small couch, but large enough to fit my body on so I could take a nap, or even just lie wondering promising to myself that I'll never drink again. That being said, Harry's thighs are brushing mine, and his elbow skimming mine each time he lifts the paper closer to his face.

"That's so full of shit. I'm sorry." He sighs, tossing the magazine down onto the table in front of us. "They're pretty brutal. They give you free publicity, but the best thing for you to do is not pay attention to what they say about you. They don't really give a shit Halle, they've ruined so many relationships before."

"Like Lois St James and Celia's friendship?" I ask him curiously.

Lois and Celia are two pop stars, they had a friendship to die for. When you say the words 'Gal Pals' it's always those tow that come to mind. They were iconic, even to the rock stars who hate pop music. That was until Roses and Thorns wrote a piece on how Celia was using Lois for fame and the two still haven't been seen together since.

It's crazy how much power the media has, it's absolutely awful but that's the way the industry works. If you want to be a musician you need to deal with the consequences.

"Yup." He sighs. "Anyway, how's the hangover?"

"It's definitely-"

"Shit, what's the time?" He asks, cutting me off completely and taking to his feet. "Fuck. Fuck I have a fucking press thing. Shit. I'll see you."