Welcome to the time jump (:
June 5, 2018
(2 years and 138 days later)
Norah
"Fuck you."
"I'm right though. Aren't I?"
"I know all your worst angles."
"It's so amazing being right."
"Your photos are gonna come out looking like ass tonight."
"That's impossible. I look too good."
"What if I just walked out? Who's gonna shoot your set then?"
"I could easily replace you."
I threw my head back and cackled. "Liar." I knew my worth. I was a phenomenal photographer and knew her and her set better than anybody else.
"You'd really walk out instead of just facing the truth?"
"I am facing the truth. The truth is I don't feel like going."
"You, one of the kindest and friendliest people I know, don't want to go to a party? Bullshit. You're coming."
There wasn't a chance in hell I was going, but I still told her, "I'll think about it."
She saw right through me, but didn't say anymore. "Am I good to go?"
"Yeah, I'll send these to Gia."
"Cool. Catch ya later!"
Kacey walked out of her dressing room, her pin-straight hair ever so slightly swinging back and forth against her back. The door closed behind her and I was left alone.
I took my laptop out of my over-the-shoulder bag and sat down at her dressing table. I plugged in my camera to begin downloading the pre-show shots of Kacey to send to her assistant so she could post them on Instagram. It would only take about ten minutes, but this was where I would stay for the next hour until soundcheck began. I was safe in here.
I took a half-eaten coffee cake muffin from my bag and silently picked off pieces as I waited for the upload to finish.
A rhythmic knock sounded on the door. This wasn't abnormal seeing as Kacey had a tendency to wander around backstage. More than likely, a stage manager thought she was in her dressing room.
With my mouth full, I called out to them, letting them know Kacey left already.
"What?" a voice called back.
I inhaled muffin particles and nearly choked. It felt like cement going down my esophagus. For the third time in two years since I started seeing Zoe, my therapist, I felt the creeping feeling of a panic attack squeeze my chest and stop my breathing. All the techniques I'd learned, triggers I knew to stay away from, flew out the window.
The knocking came again and I was able to stamp down my panicked reaction long enough to get up and twist the deadlock on the door. The handle moved down in his attempt to come in, but luckily I'd locked it just in time. I stood right behind the door, holding my breath to see what he'd do next.
"Uhh...alright...I'll take that as a 'talk to you later'." He still thought it was Kacey that was in here.
So many emotions moved through me in waves. Anxiety...sadness...anger...
I exhaled as I heard his steps take off down the hall. My entire body was vibrating, and I walked on numb legs back to the chair. I couldn't believe it was day one and I was already inches away from being found out.
But I handled it.
I was okay.
PING!
My head snapped up so quickly it nearly gave me whiplash. Contrary to my fight or flight response, the world wasn't ending, the sound was my laptop letting me know the file upload was complete.
I opened up the file marked "6518_BTS_MUSGRAVES" to make sure everything turned out as expected. All was good, and I sent it off to Gia.
Deep breath in, deep breath out.
It was only night one of tour and, already, I'd almost run into him. In hindsight, this was probably a poor decision if avoiding him was my goal. A month ago when Kacey asked me to photograph her opening sets, it seemed entirely possible to avoid my ex-boyfriend on his first world tour as a solo artist, right?
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
No, I corrected myself. This was an amazing opportunity to work with not only an amazing artist, but a good friend. I wouldn't let an ex stop me from reaching my potential.
With the last 30 minutes or so I had until I was due to meet at the main-stage to get some shots of Kacey during soundcheck, I reflected on the last time I saw him.
++
1 year before
My phone started ringing with an incoming call just as I was packing up a shoot Kyren asked me to cover for. Nowadays, I was being sent to events like baseball games, basketball games, and sometimes, if I was lucky, concerts. It confused me because concerts were the one thing I did have experience in, but it seemed like Kyren wanted to test my loyalty or at least make me work my way up to concerts now that I was a full-time employee. Today, I was doing an up-and-coming artist's headshots.
The call was from an unknown number, but it was a Los Angeles area code, which meant it could be a client, so I answered right away.
"Hello?"
"I need you." A sniffle.
There was no way...
I dropped the bag in my hand and moved away from the few people around me to a quiet corner. My heart was pounding. I was terrified of what he would say next. My mind went straight into the gutter, imagining the worst case scenario.
"Harry?"
Silence. Another sniffle.
"Harry, what's wrong? Talk to me, please," I begged softly.
In a shaking voice, he told me that his stepfather had tragically passed. He was looking after his mum and his sister as best as he could, but he said he didn't feel strong enough and didn't know who else to call.
"I need you, Nor."
"Okay, okay," I tried to calm him. I quickly ran through my head the logistics of work and school and missing maybe one or two days. Then, I cut off my thoughts. It would all be fine. I just needed to get to him. "I'll get a ticket for tonight. I'll be there as soon as I can, alright?"
His voice was deeper than I remembered and gravelly with emotion. "I'll send you the ticket."
I wasn't going to argue. "Okay. Is there anything I can do for you right now?"
There was quiet on his side, but no more sniffling. "Travel safely."
I nodded. "I will."
5 hours later, I was boarding a plane to Manchester, the closest airport to his home. It was a nearly 11 hour journey, and I was antsy the whole time. I couldn't get to him fast enough. After our break up, we ceased practically all contact with each other. He'd texted me in the mornings for few days after he left, checking in to make sure I felt alright after I had fainted. It was gut wrenching seeing his name on my phone and knowing the "How are you feeling?" texts were as close as I would get to him. Then they stopped.
But there I was, hopping out of an Uber, hurrying up the steps of a familiar house in Holmes Chapel with a single duffle bag strapped over my shoulder. I texted him that I was here, and a couple seconds later, the door swung open and I laid eyes on him for the first time in over a year.
His long hair was no more. It was short. Untouched. Curled pieces fell into his sullen eyes. The poor man looked like he held the weight of the world on his shoulders. My eyes didn't leave his for fear that if I looked away to take in the rest of his appearance I might miss something of importance in his gaze.
His hand grabbed mine, and he pulled me inside quietly before talking me to his bedroom. The same childhood bedroom we'd woken up in Christmas morning of 2015. It felt like a lifetime ago.
Anne questioning me.
Gemma coming to my rescue.
Harry's aunt and uncle fighting over me in Pictionary teams.
My heart shattered for this family.
I placed my bag down near his desk as he closed the door with the hand that wasn't holding mine. I sat down on the bed next to him. My body was humming with energy despite my 11 hour journey without sleep. We sat in silence, hands clasped, the outside of my thigh pressed against his, not looking at each other. I was pushing every bit of my energy and strength to him, wishing it helped even an ounce.
The bed jolted once. Twice. And then again.
I looked over at him to see silent sobs wracking his body. I gave up on the respectful amount of space between us and wrapped my body around him tight—like I'd be able to hold his pieces together. I pulled him in and he tucked his face into my neck. My fingers missed his long curls, but found a home just as well in the short strands at the nape of his neck.
We settled back in the bed, him in my arms. His body no longer shook, but I shouldered his exhaustion. I didn't know how long he wanted me here for, but I knew I'd stay as long as he needed.
++
Present
The funeral was the last time I saw him. It was extremely private and intimate, and I didn't want to intrude, but he insisted he needed me. My heart broke seeing his mum. It shattered even further when she hugged me extra tight.
Later that next day, he bought me a ticket home and I took an Uber back to the airport. It was hard to believe that we spoke hardly 10 words to one another, but it was true. The trip wasn't about us or our relationship. It was about familiarity and comfort.
After, it felt like I'd peeled back the bandaid, reopening the hurt of our break up, and put it right back into place. It did the job sealing the wound, but it certainly would lose traction if I ever saw him again and needed to peel it back a second time. If I ever held him in my arms and gave myself to him again. I don't know if I'd ever be able to do that.
Maybe he felt the same way. Maybe that was why he failed to show up months ago when I needed him the most.
The radio in my blazer pocket beeped to life. "Baker. Kacey won't start without you. Get here fast, please."
Shit. They were starting early. I closed my laptop and looped my camera over my head and under a shoulder.
Navigating through underground tunnels of arenas and stadiums had started to become a hidden talent of mine. If someone showed me the way once, I wouldn't forget it. I'd been to American Airlines Center in Dallas earlier this year for a Lorde concert, so I was able to get to the main stage with ease and with just a little bit of anxiety in making sure I didn't say see anyone particularly tall and handsome.
I rounded the massive stage and found a good spot in the empty seats to take some shots of Kacey. She didn't move around too much on stage—at least not as much as other artists I've photographed—so I focused more on making note of how the floor seats were set up and how much space was between the pit barricade and stage, knowing there was a good vantage point from where she stood at her mic stand.
Kacey made jokes throughout her soundcheck and was a grinning fool so I was certain the photos were going to turn out well. I made sure her excited energy was palpable through the pictures.
I took a seat in one of the chairs of the first section, head down and flicking through the photos on my camera. Pride filled my chest. Damn, I was good.
"Norah!"
Who in the...?
I looked up to see Kacey waving her arms around to get my attention at the mic stand. This inconspicuous stuff was really going well, wasn't it?
I sent her a cutting motion across my neck, hoping she wouldn't continue to bounce my name off the walls of the arena. Maybe I would have to tell her my reasons behind staying on the down low. She would understand. It would certainly help me get out of the crew party tonight, too.
I showed her some of the shots I took, then talked with her manager and assistant for a bit. I heard mutterings of another soundcheck starting soon and I knew I had to make myself scarce from the stage. I would definitely remain professional if I saw him, but why put myself in the situation if I didn't have to?
"Mitch, you crazy guy, you." A staccato of laughter followed.
Mayday. Mayday.
I turned my back to the source of the voice coming from behind me. I had full confidence that so long as the group walked past me and didn't look back, I wouldn't be noticed.
I'd cut and dyed my hair not too long ago. No longer did it hang down the middle of my back. It was cut sharply at my shoulders and I had face framing pieces that refused to tuck properly behind my ears. The brown was gone, replaced with a midnight black color. I looked nothing like I had a year ago.
A group of three walked right by us. Two guys and a girl. One being a very familiar figure. The shoulder of a guy with long hair nearly skimmed mine as they walked by, they were so close.
"Norah? Did you hear what I said?" Gia asked.
My eyes were still pinned on the group of three, specifically the tall one with pink slacks, and I saw that his back straightened out the second my name fell from Gia's mouth. I had half a second to make myself disappear before he turned around.
But he didn't.
He must not have heard. Or he didn't care. I had stood there stiff as a board, waiting for the inevitable, but I guess it wasn't that time yet. He continued onto the stage, and when I caught a glimpse of his side profile as he screwed with the mic stand, my breath froze in my throat.
Somehow, he was even more beautiful.
He looked happy.
Content.
In his element.
His fingers fidgeted with the waist band of his slacks and he couldn't seem to stand in one place. He walked back over to his band.
"Oh, I see. Harry's flipped a switch on your fangirl, huh?"
"What?" Oh, right, I was doing something. I shook my head, blinking away my haze. "Oh, no. Well, he does have a very...magnetic aura about him," I reasoned, then chuckled. "You can't help but give him your attention."
"Have you met him?"
It was always a breath of relief to not be recognized by those close to Harry. The hair dye and a different last name truly did make a difference. I'd also gained quite a bit of makeup skills over the past year from hanging around backstage with makeup artists. My change in appearance explained why I was hardly noticed as Harry Styles' ex-girlfriend.
Every so often, I'd get someone staring at me extra hard like they were trying to figure out where they knew me from, but could never put a finger on it. Those reactions were much better than those I got right after our breakup.
"Yeah, I have. A while ago."
"He's a nice guy."
I nodded, tight-lipped. "He is."
I didn't want to stand here, 20 feet from the guy, and talk about him like he wasn't someone I used to love more than life.
"Anyways, we're really happy to have you with us for this leg," Kacey's manager, Jason, spoke up. "Kacey seems to relax around you and really be herself, so this is gonna be special."
"It will be." I was confident in myself and my skill. I knew Kacey was, too.
Backstage, the sound of Harry's voice could be heard no matter where I went.
I sat and talked with Kacey and her hair and makeup team. Ever Since New York bled through the walls. I left to go to the bathroom. Fucking Stockholm Syndrome was being sound-checked, and I was left wondering if I was ever going to escape my 1D phase. I went to catering to grab a snack and left nearly in tears hearing From the Dining Table.
Earphones. Next time I left the hotel, I wouldn't forget them.
As the arena began to fill to the brim with fans, I wandered out to the edge of barricade to gauge where I could stand without getting in fans' ways for long.
I braced myself to stand in front of a sea of them. Harry Styles fans. I reminded myself that my back would be turned for the most part. Less than a hundred would actually see me, and hardly any would actually pay attention to me. There was nothing to be worried about at all.
I raised my camera to my face and tested the light settings on the crew finishing up the final touches to the stage before Kacey came out.
"Are you Harry's photographer?"
I turned instinctively to the voice that asked me the question.
"Kacey Musgrave's," I answered simply.
The young girl's eyes widened. She looked around 14 or 15. Hopefully too young to have been apart of the mob who tore me down on social media.
"Oh, cool!"
I smiled politely back at her and went back to work. More heads turned my way after answering the girl. The hair on the back of my neck standing on end told me so.
"Crew. T-10."
Ten minutes until Kacey came out. I went backstage one more time to get some pre-set shots of Kacey. One of the stage manager's let me know Kacey was in her dressing room, and I headed straight over.
I gave two knocks on the door. "It's Norah."
"Come in!"
I opened the door and shut it behind me. Kacey was fixing up her lipgloss in the mirror. She wore a silver sparkling leotard with a deep square cut down the middle, ending right below the middle of her chest, and the dopest sparkling, knee high cowboy boots.
"Harry's gonna be here any second if you want to get some pictures of us?" Her offer was sincere, but it only sent an ice cold chill down my spine telling me I wasn't ready.
I twisted the rings on my fingers. "I'm about to ask something very unprofessional."
She spun on her heels to face me, her brows pinched in question. "What is it?"
"We have history."
"Who?"
"Me and Harry."
"What kind of history?"
"We dated."
"Holy motherfuck. What?"
Suddenly, it was like a faucet turned on in my Broca's area and all the words fell from my mouth. "For a few months. It was a 'spend every free second with each other' kind of relationship. We loved each other, but I broke up with him. Or maybe it was sort of mutual? I don't know. I wasn't ready for all the attention, but it didn't matter. In the end, I was destroyed in the media, had to reinvent myself, and all that good shit. But we loved each other. A lot. It's...complicated. I haven't seen him in a while. He doesn't know I'm here. I've been trying to keep a low profile. It's stupid, I know, because this leg of the tour—his tour— is like a month and a half, but..."
"Say no more. You aren't ready to see him."
"Right," I huffed out with a nod. The sincerity and understanding in her gorgeous eyes were enough to make me want to cry with relief.
"Well, I want to hear more about this later. I'll send him away. Gia can take our photo somewhere else." I opened my mouth to apologize again, but she stopped me with a pointed look. "Uh-uh. I can't imagine how you feel, but I do know that when you see him again and talk to him, it's going to be on your terms. No one else's. I'm assuming this is also why you don't want to go to the crew party tonight, so I'll stop hounding you about that."
"You're perfect," I sighed. "I can't thank you enough."
She gently air-kissed me on the cheek. "Don't thank me. And I better look just as perfect in those pictures tonight, you hear?"
"Duh."
We laughed, but it cut short at a rhythmic knock on the door. The same from earlier when I was alone in here.
"Kace! It's time!" His voice sang out the words.
The big organ on the left side my chest pounded hard as if letting me know it still worked and still beat for the man on the other side of the door, whether I liked it or not.
"See you out there," she whispered with a wink, then opened up the door only enough to slide out without letting me be seen.
"Who are you hiding in there?" I heard Harry joke faintly. Little did he know it wasn't a joke at all.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Kacey shot back.
...
This is only a TASTE of what's to come (;
I hope you guys enjoyed this one! Lots more drama is to come!
If anyone has any advice on dealing with anxiety (particularly health anxiety) please leave a comment, I need it 💗💗
Stay safe <3