africa ☾ h.s.

EIGHT

The day had come to say goodbye.

They were all up- Harry, Susan and Niall- before the sun had risen. I heard them talking, outside my little hut, about that day- that frightful and wretched day that would remain ingrained in their minds forevermore. Niall was asking Harry if he could just stay with Susan, act like he had died or something.

"No," Susan interrupted, quite suddenly, but, then again, that was Susan for you. "I can't ask you to do that."

"I can't do that," Harry agreed. "We knew it would be this short."

It seemed tragic in a stupid way; the way they were so selflessly throwing their precious, African love onto the backburner for Harry and his band. But, then again, Susan knew the price. And, more importantly, she knew that this love was meant to stay here. To stay in Africa.

"Can't you come with me?" Harry said suddenly, grabbing Susan's hands and holding them to his chest. I could see the desperation in his eyes as I peered out the window. Susan's back was towards me, but I saw it rise with hope- and then sink, in sadness.

"No," she whispered, all too quietly. "I can't be that girl."

"What girl?" Harry asked, pulling her to him. She reluctantly collapsed onto his chest and gripped his t-shirt.

"The girl that the media tears apart. I've seen them do it. Taylor. Kendall."

"But it won't happen with you, baby. Susan, c'mon. You're perfect. It won't happen, I promise." Harry was so desperate for his love- his sunshine, his rain- to soothe him to sleep every night for the rest of his life that he wasn't even thinking straight. But Susan- typical, practical, I-hate-headbands Susan, was.

She laughed, the sort of laugh you laugh when you're crying and all snotty but you do it anyway. "It will happen, Harry," she said softly. "That's the thing with your type of lifestyle. You have bright, flashing cameras and big breasted celebrities, and at the end of the day, everyone backstabs you. So all you've got is yourself. And that has to be enough."

Harry sighed softly, pulling Susan to him and planting his lips into her hair. They both cried then; hiding their faces into each others shoulders and trying to prolong the inevitable. Eventually, Simon came and told Niall it was time to go, and Kate came to tap Susan's shoulder awkwardly. Both Kate and Simon agreed on them saying goodbye, and meeting them in their respective cars in five minutes.

Five minutes.

That's all they had. All they had; to wrap up their love that had fulfilled them and intoxicated them and thrilled them for the five days they had been here. Niall and I stood back and watched as they held each other tight; Harry with his loose, loopy hug and Susan with her tight, smothering grip. It was then I realized that opposites do attract. Because Susan was everything Harry was, and he everything Susan wasn't.

Niall cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his weight, and gave me a tight hug. "I love you, Kendi," he said softly, eyes glassy. "I'll write you, 'kay?"

"Okay," I responded quietly, meek as a mouse. Harry was next, wiping his tears away on his t-shirt and ripping that stupid headband out of his hair. "I want you to keep this," he told me, handing the rag to me. I shook my head, pointing to Susan, but they both refused. "Without you, this never would've happened," he explained.

Then it was Susan's turn. She approached me; electrocuted hair and mint gum and strength all wrapped into the woman they called Susan Anne Perry. She held me close and then extended me out so I could look at her.

"Remember, Kendi," she said strongly. "You are strong. You can do anything. Do not let anyone ever tell you otherwise." Through her tears, she stood and kissed my cheek. "I love you, Kendi. Be good, okay?"

I told her I would be.

Then it was over. Harry and Susan shared a goodbye kiss; Niall and Susan a hug. Then they parted their separate ways; Harry to his tour and Susan to her small town, the size of a thumb.

It seemed so wrong; the fact that something that beautiful and sacred had been ruined that quickly.

The only thing I can really say of that romance is one thing; it was forbidden. It was stupid. It was childish. But that's what made it special. The fact that two competely different people had fallen in love, in Africa, over something as stupid as a headband. They were both changed from it; I'm sure. Susan probably never viewed her beauty the same way again.

And Harry?

He never wore another headband.

--

apologies to those of you who cried.