*Julianne's P.O.V.*
It's been a week, a full week.
No matter what I do, my mind always goes back to one thing, Harry.
So far, this week has consisted of few things:
Doing laundry, to clear my mind.
Cleaning the house, to clear my mind.
Going to Karen's school talent show, to clear my mind.
Heck, even thinking about Harry, to clear my mind, even if it doesn't make sense.
-
My phone has had a life of it's own, never ending phone calls and messages from those back in London, but I never find the courage to receive any of them.
Harry, I haven't heard from him, but every single day I find myself asking about him.
Without hesitation, I pick up my phone and attempt to call him. I am drawn back when I am met with no rings, instead, the voice of his voicemail sounds through my head.
Worry fills me and as a reflex I quickly dial Eleanor's number.
Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.
And on the last ring, I hear her voice.
"Julianne?!" Her shocked, but relieved, voice speaks to me.
"Yes. Hi El." I respond in a soft voice.
"Oh my goodness! I was so worried!" She sighs into the phone. "Why haven't you answered my calls? Or my messages?" She says, almost angry now.
"I'm sorry, El." The guilt continues to flush through me. "I was trying to clear my mind." I say as my voice trembles.
Eleanor sighs, "No, I'm sorry. I was just so worried, and well, things haven't been going well here." She lowers her voice.
"I-I tried to call ... him, but he, he didn't answer." I stutter.
"He ..." She sighs again, "he's not doing well." She finally says.
"W-what do you mean?" I know what she means, but I just can't find it in me to process the pain that I have caused him.
"If it were up to him, he would stay in bed all day. But, well, those stupid people that the boys have as management are heartless assholes. " Eleanor grows angry again. "The poor boy, it will be an improvement if he stops staring at the wall for at least a minute, but no, these people have been dragging him out of bed every day and forcing him to sing into a damn microphone." She stops and breathes. "Julianne, you need to come back. At this rate, he won't be able to even get on stage next week when the tour starts." She says, and I suddenly feel angry. At management, at myself.
"And ..." Eleanor starts speaking again before silence takes over.
"And what Eleanor?" I ask impatiently after a minute.
"He's ... he's been shouting out random things. What if he's going crazy, Julianne?" Worry fills her voice.
"What do you mean he has been shouting random things? What kind of things?"
"I don't know, but Louis has been telling me that sometimes he calls for you while he sleeps. Sometimes he says random words that we all think relate back to you. I don't know, Julianne, he doesn't even speak to any of us."
Words?
"What words?" What words, Eleanor?!"
"Purple. He shouts that one out a lot. And 'cooking, airport, concert, picture, green eyed sky scrapper,' I don't know Julianne- "
