Finer Things // h.s.

Goodbye

"I don't think so. What's a nine-hour flight?" I say sarcastically and Gemma laughs at me.

Truth be told, I'm shitting it. I hate planes. I don't understand how they work. It's too bloody weird and I know we have to get overseas somehow but isn't that what it means to get 'overseas', you take a damn boat. I'm nearly twenty-one and the idea of a plane muddles my brain up completely. I don't know how Harry did it and especially so young.

I walk back to the bench and take my seat in the chair next to Gemma, still warm from sitting in it before. My fingers dance over the plastic tennis ball key ring attached to my handbag. "Every single fucking day... What a joke." I say to myself softly, almost mocking his words.

January 27th, 2011

"Promise to call me?" I say letting my anxiety take over my thoughts. What if he forgets about me? I don't know how I could handle that... He smiles and nods at me profusely. This time he's excited to embark on a new adventure.

He's happy to leave. This is what Harry wants. He's going to sing to his heart's content and make music like there's no tomorrow.

I feel my eyes begin to water so I make an attempt to blink away at the tears.

Don't cry. Don't cry. Oh my god, Tilly do not cry.

My eyes start to water heavily, I feel a few tears roll down my face.

"Are you...? Tilly Jackson, are you crying?" He says worryingly, dropping his duffle bag at his feet.

"I'm not crying. You're crying." I say turning away from him. Cringing at my response. I pat away at the tears with the sleeve of my orange knit sweater and look up at Anne who is with the rest of our families. She's smiling but her cheeks are flushed pink and her nose is blushed. She's strong for her family. She won't show Harry she's scared for him, only how supportive she is.

"Don't lie to me, not before I go." His voice is soft, and his hand is on my shoulder. 'Go.' The word 'go' rings in my ears like the planes taking off outside. This is it. This is finally it. He's leaving us and none of us knows when he will be back. He's leaving me. I turn around and throw myself into his chest. Burying my face into his neck, inhaling lightly.

"Are you smelling me?" He says laughing, returning the hug by wrapping his arms around my body.

"Yeah..." I say reluctantly.

Why are you like this? I think to myself, squeezing my eyelids shut.

I lessen my grip of him, but he pulls me in tighter and a lump rises in my throat.

"Remember what you said to me the night before my audition, Til?" His breath is warm against my ear as he speaks ever so softly.

I shake my head and press my face deeper into his neck and the wave of realisation hits me like a tidal wave. I won't see his dumb face running around the house anymore and I won't be able to pick on his stupid jokes he makes but most of all I won't be able to see the wonderfully intelligent and mature boy before me every single day. He isn't really a boy anymore. He's about to work on an album, a new group of best friends. In all honesty, I truly couldn't be happier. I just know he's leaving. That scares me beyond what I can comprehend.

"You told me that it's too late to back out now." He reminds me and I hear myself say it. I replay the night in his room where he looked so pale with anxiety and riddled with self-doubt. If only that boy could see himself now. I look up at him and our eyes meet. He'll never know how I feel. But I guess it's just some dumb crush, how would I know? I'm seventeen.

"Don't back out now Til. You'll always have me. I'll text every single day. Every single fucking day. You got it Til?" He says becoming sterner with his words. I nod my head and repeat his words out loud.