In the Open | Harry Styles | Sequel to Undercover

11.

Harry

I toss and turn in my bed, unable to sleep. The house feels too big, too empty without her here to fill it. I know it's my fault she isn't here but that doesn't make the loneliness any easier to bear.

I really had only intended to help her but now I see that perhaps I went about it the wrong way. I have no idea how to fix it though. My mom had suggested apologizing and giving her space which seemed to be echoed by El's requests but something about laying here doing nothing feels so...wrong.

I sit up and run my fingers through my hair, its an absolute mess and getting much too long for my current liking. I groan in frustration, what I really want is a joint, or mushrooms, or anything that will let me escape my own mind for a little while. I know Ellie really hates when I participate in those particular activities though so instead I decide on a shower.

I force myself up and out of bed, grabbing a clean pair of boxers and heading for the bathroom. The heated tiles feel nice against the bottoms of my feet as I move swiftly towards the shower and spin the tap.

I groan when I'm overcome with memories from even this room. She's only officially been living with me for about a week but in the past six months she's left traces of herself in every crack and crevice in my home. I can see it so perfectly, her body, perfect and bare in front of me. Her eyes as they rolled back into her head as I made love to her against the shower wall. Even without the memories, the shelves of the shower are still full of her things.

The cascading waters trickle down my skin reminiscent of the touch of the girl I wish was here with me now. I miss her with my entire being and the weight of her being gone is crushing me from the inside out.

I ball my fist and punch the shower wall in front of me in a fit of pent up rage. I pull my hand back quickly, clutching my hand as pain shoots through it. I'm a fucking idiot.

I rinse off quickly, turning off the stead stream of water and grabbing a fluffy towel with my non-throbbing hand and drying myself off. If it's broken my manager is going to murder me.

•

"So what did you punch?" The doctor that my manager called in to the studio to check on my hand asks.

"What? I didn't punch anything. I dropped a weight on it." I lie through my teeth.

"Uh-huh, and on weekends I play golf with the tooth fairy." He laughs. "No, I've seen what it looks like when someone drops something on their hand and this isn't that. It looks exactly like a hand that has punched a wall. I don't think it was sheet rock either, no this is brick or tile you've hit."

I shoot my eyes up. 

"How'd you know?"

"I've been doing this a long time Harry. Usually their are only a few reasons someone punches a wall. The most common one for a young man like yourself would be a girl, or boy, no judgement."

I sigh and drop my shoulders. "It's a girl."

"Ahhh yes, a tale as old as time. You love this girl?"

I use my teeth to pull back my lower lip debating on how much information I should share with him.

"I'm not a therapist but I can't tell anyone your secrets, its all confidential. You don't have to tell me anything but I know how hard it can be to hold everything inside. I'm here to listen if you just need to vent. 

I let out a long breath as I try to decide what to do. I want to talk to someone, apart from my mother, someone separated from the situation completely and get their opinion on what I should do. Here was this man, offering me that opportunity. El was a topic I was hesitant to share about because we had done our best to keep our romantic life private but as he had said, he was bound by HIPAA and confidentiality agreements. 

So I rattle off the story, the whole thing. Telling him about the night I met her, that summer and the four years since then. I tell him every fucked up thing I've done in the past few weeks ending with this morning and my shower where I had grown so outdone with the bullshit of my life that I had punched the tile wall. 

"You have quite the history with this girl." He says pensively as he finishes casting my arm which we've discovered I have broken. 

"It's definitely not a traditional love story."

"But you clearly love her." He adds.

"So, so much."

" I think you were doing what you thought was right at the time. I think you did it out of love, and I think that with time she will see that too. Women need room to breath I have learned throughout my years, she may be feeling a little stifled by you. Give her some time, while you wait for her to come around perhaps see if you can undo some of the damage you have done. But take my advice for what you will, I'm merely a nosy old man, you have to decide what is right for you. You're good to go, I'll talk to your manager to set up another appointment in six weeks so we can see about getting that cast off, sound good?"

I nod and extend my good hand to him, shaking it.

He exits the small room of the studio he's used as his office for this and I'm left alone, wondering what to make of the entire conversation. I have to start somewhere with my efforts to repair the broken relationship between El and I but I'm not sure where. 

An idea strikes and I decide it's best to go with my gut as I whip out my phone and punch in the contact information.

The phone rings for what feels like forever before a secretary finally answers.

"Hello, this is Harry Styles calling for Mr. Goldman."

AN: What's Harry up to?

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