|| Love to Hate Me ||

{Twenty-One}

"Sing me a song you could be
Tell me a tale just like me
Don't turn it my way, happy and free
I'll turn it to shit, happy and free."
-Vision Of Division, The Strokes
__________

Staring out into the crowd, Liana smiled. She ran her fingers through her hair, her eyes wavering to see Harlan was grinning wide.

This was it. This was the final interlude leading into her last song for the night. She was excited—she was nervous, but most of all... she was in love.

It had happened fast and unexpectedly. Never would she have thought Harlan Hayworth would be hers. She can't say she hadn't thought about it in her teenage years—with his posters on her wall, singing along to his every song.

Liana hadn't noticed Lenny from the crew making his way onto the stage until she spotted Harlan taking off his electric Fender. Harlan handed Lenny his guitar, trading it out for an acoustic. He put the strap over his shoulder, taking his mic out of the stand.

Liana stared at Harlan skeptically, watching as he adjusted his earbud. Harlan never took center stage—it looked like he was about to address the crowd, which was something he also never did. He sleeked his hair back, sweat causing small strands to stick to his forehead.

"My name's Harlan." He chuckled when the crowd roared. He tried talking again, but the audience grew even louder. He smiled wide, placing the mic at his side as he waited for the arena to grow quiet. "I can't believe I'm doin' this-" Harlan waved Lenny back onstage. He was carrying two stools front and center. "Today is Lee's Birthday, just so you know." Harlan winked—the crowd growing loud again. "A little over a month ago, this pretty lady right here tried to make me do somethin'... she tried making me give back. Don't know if you guys seen it on YouTube, but... I gave it back alright." He laughed. "I uh... I swore to myself I'd never play this song again. But today is Lee's Birthday, so." Harlan shrugged, picking up his mic stand.

He set it in front of the stool, adjusting the levers on the sides to lower the microphone. Harlan sat down, pulling the guitar around from behind his back before continuing to adjust the mic. His eyes wavered to Liana—her eyes were wide; her expression filled with horror. Harlan laughed at the sight.

"Come on, baby... come sing this with me." Harlan strummed his guitar, showing off his abilities with a fancy little tune—his fingers moving swiftly.

Liana was shaking her head, repeatedly mouthing 'no.' Harlan could read her lips, but was unable to hear the words—she was too perplexed to bring the mic to her mouth.

Harlan pointed to his ear, shaking his head. Liana brought the mic to her lips, "No. no, I-I can't."

"Sure you can." Harlan chipped. "If you don't sing this with me, I won't play it. And if I don't play it-" As if on cue, the crowd began to boo. "You have to sing this with me. Come on, birthday girl." Harlan winked, nodding toward the empty stool next to him. "Baby, I told you I was gonna do somethin' special, now sit down." Harlan demanded playfully.

Liana's jaw clenched; her eyes began to sting but she made sure to keep the tears at bay. She did as Harlan commanded, sitting next to him in the empty stool.

Harlan saw she was getting ready to cry. He stood from his seat, leaning next to her ear with his hand on her back. "Baby, you're gonna do fine. It's gonna be fine." He kissed her temple before stepping back to his stool.

"I wrote this song about seven years ago. This song has never been played on a stage before, so... don't judge me too hard." Harlan smirked, his smoldering eyes narrowing as he strummed the strings. "I figured I'd start, you join in the chorus and take over verse two... sound alright?" Harlan asked; his fingers continuing to play.

Liana nodded against her own will—she couldn't believe Harlan was doing this. After what he had confessed to her, now that she knew 'Love To Hate Me' had begun as a suicide note. It brought an entirely different meaning to the song.

Harlan sang.

He sang beautifully—more beautiful than she remembered. She had often wondered if he was still a talented vocalist—he was. She had never heard Harlan's vocals so stripped. She was captivated, listening to the raw grittiness that sounded a lot like a wind tunnel. He didn't sound real, not sitting next to her—not in this arena.

Harlan nodded, motioning for Liana to join in. She had been too lost in his eyes to pay attention to which part he was singing.

"You're gonna love to hate me someday. Darlin' it's gonna be okay, with the sun in the sky, I'm gonna fly, baby you're doin' fine." Harlan sang the last line over Liana, causing her voice to come to a stop. He had changed the lyrics—he had changed it as a joke, seeing that she was visibly shaken by having to sing his song. The lyrical change had caused her to break into a smile. "There we go." Harlan spoke into the mic when seeing her cheeky grin.

The song came to an end, the crowd erupted in a way Liana had never heard before. She assumed Harlan was used to it, he had probably felt the shift in energy a lot while on tour himself—when he was the biggest rocker on radio.

Harlan stood taking Liana's hand, making her follow his lead by taking a bow. He gave her a hug, planting a small kiss on her cheek. "Happy birthday, baby." He winked, getting his mic stand before making his way back to his mark. "You did great... you did great." Harlan held a thumbs up, taking the guitar strap off his shoulder. "That song was meant for you." Harlan smiled, his eyes narrowed in slits.

"Wow... I, uh... I don't know what to say." Liana covered her face. She was embarrassed and beaming—happy and sad... she was overwhelmed.

"You don't have to say anything." Harlan chuckled warmly, his voice deep and childlike.