15: Lyrics and Luck

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Lyrics and Luck

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                  IT WAS SOMEHOW both amusing and frustrating for Harry to have so few possessions to pack and yet have such a hard time packing. Where on earth had he stashed his gloves? His hat? Did Louis still have his thicker jacket? He'd freeze if he got back to the North Pole without something heavier than his old coat.

                  At the top of the list of things he couldn't currently find was his cell phone. He could hear it vibrating consistently somewhere – not with text messages, but with phone calls. Was it Ed again? Louis? Perhaps he buried it inside his half-full suitcase. Perhaps he left it in the fridge or something. It could have fallen from his pocket while he was in the bathroom maybe.

                  He could always get back to Ed, and he'd see him in due time anyway. But if he was missing calls from Louis, it might be important. At least, the kind of important he was willing to let fill his head right now. Ed's kind of important was not the same kind. It will have to wait until Harry gets there. Gets home.

                  And so he searched, first in the kitchen and then the bathroom. It wasn't currently vibrating either, so he was looking for it blindly. He emptied his suitcase, careful to keep everything folded and neat, but it wasn't in there either.

                  "Damn it all," he mumbled to himself, putting his clothes back into the suitcase.

                  The vibrating sounded again, and Harry was determined to find it this time. Listening closely, he crept into his living room and paused for a moment. It's definitely in here.

                  He began lifting the sofa cushions, though he couldn't recall the last time he actually sat on them. But there, beneath the third one, was his still vibrating cell phone. He felt a wave of relief wash over him as he picked it up, ready to answer Louis' call.

                  However, it wasn't Louis. Or Ed.

                  "Hello?" Harry answered, wrinkling his brow.

                  "Harry?"

                  The voice sounded familiar, but Harry definitely didn't recognize the number. "Uh, yeah. Who is this?"

                  "Hey, mate. It's Zayn."

                  "Zayn." The surprise was completely evident in Harry's voice, and he knew that, but he couldn't seem to stifle it. "What's up? Did you get my number from Louis?"

                  "Lottie, actually. Louis doesn't know I've called you."

                  "Oh."

                  "Yeah... I was wondering if you were free today before we start working on your song tonight."

                   Harry frowned, lowering himself onto the sofa slowly. He didn't remember making plans with Louis for the earlier hours of the day, but that didn't mean he didn't want to spend them with him anyway. He was probably going to get ahold of him after he finished packing, honestly. It's not that he didn't like Zayn, but...they really didn't associate outside of the nights Harry accompanied Louis to their little writing sessions. And even then, he spent most of the time with Louis in a corner of the room away from the others. This was definitely unprecedented.

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