Harry Who? Book One (Completed)

Harry [Alternate Ending]

'I'd often said to Ellie how much I liked that she had no idea who I was, or cared about One Direction. Now, that was the worst feeling I could have ever imagined.'

This thought was constantly on Harry's mind. It was almost worse than a breakup, because there was nothing he could do about it. He didn't have a chance to fight for her, to prove himself. She was just gone, and with her, a big part of himself was missing, too.

He was a mess his last few weeks of filming 'Dunkirk' in LA, and he channelled it all into his character. Many of his castmates were sympathetic, since they had met Ellie just weeks earlier when she visited Harry. They often tried to take him out, keep him distracted, but he always ended up either getting too drunk, or doing something else embarrassing in public, like crying.

At least he was staying in the same hotel as his cast mates, so he saw them regularly. He'd tried to go to his house, but just driving there made him think of all the memories he'd had there with Ellie; laying on the beach, swimming in the ocean, cutting his hair...so many memories he couldn't stand to think of in that house by the ocean. Without really planning too far ahead, he put the house on the market. He had someone clean his belongings out for him, and send anything Ellie had left behind to her parents. It was just too much for Harry to deal with.

When filming wrapped, Harry moved on to Jamaica, not wanting to give himself any time off in between. He was afraid that if he remained stationary for too long, it would catch up to him and the weight of the situation he was in would crush him. Instead he threw himself into his album, writing one heartbreaking song after another.

Jamaica became a bit like a never-ending party. Harry wanted to distract himself, and working on his album was exactly the distraction he needed. He had no memories of Ellie here to haunt him, no daily reminder of her clothes in his closet, or her hairbrush on the sink.

As September came to an end, Harry got a shocking reminder of his past: The New York Riveters. They had won their first Isobel cup, and dedicated it to Ellie, even though she had no idea they, or the NWHL, existed.

"Sell the team. I don't care for how cheap, just get rid of it," Harry said to his manager after hearing the news. Then, Harry locked himself in his room and wrote one of the saddest songs on his album.

"Harry," Mitch knocked on his door. "Just checking on you, we haven't heard from you in two days..."

"I'm fine." Harry mumbled, but didn't open the door.

"Uh, well, Jeff - your producer, Jeff Bhasker, not your manager Jeff Azoff - he's going to be here soon, and we have to show him what we've got, and uh..." Mitch paused as he tried to think of the kindest way to say this. "Do you have anything new? Because what we have so far, it's kind of..."

Harry opened the door suddenly, his pink eyes squinting at Mitch. His unwashed hair was a birds nest on his head and distracted Mitch from Harry's apparent disinterest in wearing any clothes. Harry stared for a long moment at his guitarist before mumbling, "okay."

He closed the door and pulled on some clothes before stumbling down to the studio. "Out, I have to finish this." He held up his notebook, and his band members exchanged glances before leaving him alone.

He grabbed his guitar and began working through the lyrics he'd written, putting a melody to the words. He was eventually interrupted as someone came in, and he turned to tell them to leave, but stopped.

"Oh, hey Jeff." He said to his producer.

"That's a nice song you're playing, what's it called?" He asked and sat down across from him.