Eminent

1

H

The sun beat down on my back as I ran faster, the adrenaline coursed through my bones. The gluttonous rays nipping at my skin, the burn licking at any exposed part of my body. Sweat was beading on my hair line, dangerously close, threatening to spill in to my line of vision. My anger was now clearly evident as I chased and chased, no end in sight. It hurts to breathe, my lungs are on fire. I can feel myself dizzying, my head is spinning.

"Alright Haz, give it a rest."

I can hear him calling to me, but I need more. Just one more.

My shoulder ached as it rolled within it's socket, raising the now heavy racket grasped within my palm, I swung harder than I have this entire session. A sharp pop of the ball against the tightly fastened strings echoed through the empty courts, it bounced directly in front of my opponent, but he was too slow with the return. The ball glided effortlessly past his missed swing, catching my momentum within the gated fence surrounding us.

"7-6! Fuckin' Loser!" I yelled, collapsing onto the warm green asphalt beneath my feet.

Jeff jogged around the strung out net, offering me my water and a hand to bring me back to my feet.

I peered at the body outline of sweat that was now traced onto the ground after my victory in a 2 and a half hour match.
Scrunching my nose, I ponder how THAT much liquid could escape my pores.

"Okay dick hole, watch it. That's one loss to my twelve wins against you." Jeff laughed breathlessly, lifting his shirt to rid his drenched forehead of his own sweat.

I laugh at his statement.

"Whatever, I'm getting proper good now and you just wont admit it, lame-o" I retort, just as breathless.

Jeff wraps his arm around my shoulder, walking us towards our bags.

Jeff is one of my best pals, he may be my manager but he still has a positive spirit I have grown quite fond of. After completing my first album, I have grown close with him, he has helped me shape myself into a better creator and better person. Nonetheless, I still struggle with things and I recognize that I am not the best version of myself yet. I am still trying to fix myself. I will get there one day. It feels like an infinite reach towards something so close to my grasp, but it continuously seeps through my fingertips as each thought antagonizes my brain. 

"You alright buddy?" Jeff asks as we exit the tennis course, shutting the gate behind us.

"Oh yeah, of course, just lost in my mind is all." I answer quickly, shaking the thoughts out of my brain.

I find myself getting lost within my brain more than I would like to admit, but honestly I get the best content when I am thrown in a room with just myself and whatever my mind wants to discuss. Comfortable silence might not be as overrated as I once thought before.

 Recently I have been going through more thoughtful episodes, once tour ended I found myself worried about not seeing the world as I once had, did I make the right decision carrying on with my solo career? How are the other boys doing? I cant stop myself from distancing myself from them, I tell myself its not on purpose, but I cant find a reason as to why I do it. Maybe it is on purpose? Do I like being on my own more than relying on the other guys? I get to do whatever I want, whenever I want. I get to talk about things I haven't been able to express before, but I just cant seem to shake this constant battle within me.

My thoughts are yet again diffused when Jeff speaks out again
"You ready for tonight Haz?"

I had completely forgotten about the plans for tonight.
The crew and I are gathering to celebrate the end of tour, the end of the Harry Styles first era. I have to admit, it's bittersweet. I loved this album, but I am excited to branch out, to express myself more. I have more confidence in creating something and being the better me. At least I hope I am.

I answer his question with a bright smile,
"Of course, we are gonna get jiggy baby!" I joke, making Jeff laugh out in embarrassment.

As we make our separate ways to our cars, I bid him farewell by shooting him a smile and a wave, hauling my tennis bag into the back of my car, jumping in to the drivers seat.

"It's showtime," I say aloud rubbing my hands together, searching through my phone to blast Niall's recent album, Flicker. 

I have to call him soon to congratulate him on his work. I miss him more than I am willing to admit.