(07/04/19)
HARRY'S P.O.V
The plane ride flew by, quite literally. One moment my stomach was filling with nausea at the thought of leaving Nixie again, so soon after I had finally gotten her back. Then, I woke up to bright overhead lights and a hostess with dark, curled hair asking me to adjust my seat for landing. It went by in a flash.
And still, all I can think of is her.
But at least now I have the magnificent lights of Tokyo to keep me company and distract me from the neverending stream of thoughts. I wander aimlessly through the streets, smiling at a dog that walks past with its owner. In all honesty, I'm trying to find the restaurant that I agreed to meet my friend at. I'm here for songwriting, afterall.
When I finally see the neon lights in the shapes of Japanese characters, I sigh in relief that I'm not completely useless without Nixie guiding me. When I was last here, she was basically my timekeeper. I go up the stairs, taking in the beautiful traditional artworks that hang on the walls.
"Harry!" My friend, Adrian, shouts, standing from his table in the near corner of the room.
"Hey," I smile, embracing him tightly. "How've you been?"
"Oh alright. Excited to hear what you've got..."
I laugh, accepting the chair he pulls out for me and sitting down. It's just the two of us tonight, however when we go to the studio tomorrow it will be a different story. It will be interesting though having more opinions on my music. I just hope they like what I've written.
"How was the flight?" He asks, sipping his water.
"Yeah it was good actually. Slept all the way through pretty much."
"That's good," Adrian smirks now. "And how was the mystery person you were trying to see in Aus?"
"I don't know who you're talking about...."
I try to fight the smile in my eyes, creeping to my lips, by raising my glass of water to my mouth and taking a long sip. Adrian chuckles, looking at me knowingly.
"I may be old, but I know when someone's chasing after someone. Especially with you, Styles."
My eyes widen, cheeks going bright red. I laugh it off, picking up the menu to cover my face. Suddenly the names of foods that I can't read seem very interesting. So does the ceiling.
"You're only thirty one."
"You didn't deny the other part."
Part of me curses internally, whilst the other part just gives up trying to hide Nixie and I. I mean, he's going to hear all the songs I wrote about her, and he is my good friend of nearly three years. Why shouldn't I tell him? I can trust him.
"Fine. There is a girl-"
"No shit." Adrian grins, leaning forward.
"There is a girl, who I really, really like, and I was seeing her. Well, I wasn't originally going to, but I ended up seeing her. And I wrote songs about her so you'll hear more tomorrow. Happy?"
"Thrilled, Harold," He smiles. "Honestly, though, I'm happy you found someone that makes you happy."
She makes me so happy.
"Any names of songs that I can hear and overthink until they make no sense?"
"I'll tell you a few. Ready?" I ask, he nods. "First one; 30,000 miles,"
How many miles I travelled overall, back and forth from Sydney to London and back again trying to reach Nixie.
"A Modern Life,"
The life I hope she and I get to have, after everything is over. I can only hope though.
"Falling, Adore you, and Cherry." I finish, smiling to myself.
"They sound cool already. I want to know why it's called Cherry. But it's good you have another fruit song on the album."
"What can I say? I like fruit." I laugh,turning my attention to the waiter as they walk over to our table.
Now, three and a half hours later, I'm standing in front of the mirror of my hotel bathroom, swiping steam from the glass surface so I can see myself. My cheeks are hot, my hair soaking wet from the boiling water. I brush away a bubble of shampoo from my forehead, sighing in mild annoyance that it was there to begin with.
I feel so good right now. Mainly because of the overload of delicious Japanese food I inhaled at dinner, but also because life is truly good. I have nothing to worry about really. Nixie and I are better than ever. My songs feel really good, better than the last album. They're more open. I talked to Mum just before my shower, as promised, and showed her the view from my hotel room window.
It's all coming up fantastic. Finally.
I grin widely at my reflection, pausing to sweep a smudge of facial cleanser away, and then bounding into my bedroom. Like a child, I throw myself onto the grey satin sheets, curling them over my body in a cocoon shape. I stare at the ceiling, chest rising happily.
I wonder how Nixie is?
I smile at the thought of her, probably asleep. I can still text her. She'll wake up to it, and she'll smile, hopefully. I want her to start the day with a smile. I send her a photo of me that Adrian took before, along with a smiley face and a thumbs up emoji. In the picture, I have an orange in my mouth, still trying to smile. She'll find it hilarious.
As I press send, my phone detaches from the charger keeping it from tumbling onto the floor, hitting the carpet with a thud. The phone case falls off. That reminds me, I have to get a new one.
But, instead of that being my main worry, I see a small piece of folded, yellowed paper. I can see the dark stains of ink through it, creases and crinkles adorning the corners. What is that?
I roll over onto my stomach, frowning at the paper. I don't even remember putting this in my phone case. My eyes squint to read some of the words, written in harsh, slanted cursive. Worry begins to pool in my throat as I realise it's Nixie's handwriting, and suddenly I know exactly what it is.
It's the letter. The letter that tore me apart all those weeks ago. The worst of them all.
I feel lightheaded, but at the same time my head is a weight dragging me to the floor. I lay with my back against the side of the hotel bed, head leaning on my shoulder for support as I slowly open the folds of the letter. I was right. My breathing comes to a still as I inhale deeply, exhaling in one small shaking breath. I shouldn't read it. I shouldn't read it. I shouldn't read it.
But I read it.
To Harry,
I've tried so hard to forget you. So hard. But every time I get a letter from you, I respond. It's like some strange addiction, some force pulling me to you even though I try so hard to push away, to push our memories away. To push you away.
I can't take a walk down the beach anymore without seeing you. Seeing how you glow, how you're like the sun against all of life's awful clouds. And yet you say I'm golden. I can't listen to your music without thinking of how happy it made me seeing you on stage every night in your element, skin shining with pride and happiness. Do you still shine like that?
You're everywhere.
Maybe we were always meant to meet. I say maybe because only a few months ago I was so sure, so sure that we were supposed to meet. But only a few months before that I was sure that we were destined to be together, and that broke apart and drowned in our waves. Maybe we just weren't meant to be.
Even emotion seemed more colourful with you. Being happy seemed more yellow, and being sad seemed more blue. More vibrant. More lifelike. Now, it just all feels grey.
I just don't think I can feel anything without you. Is that bad?
Memories. Looking back, they feel more alive. 'Big Yellow Taxi' by Joni Mitchell. I always liked that song. In fact, it was one of my favourites. But when I knew that you liked it too, I never stopped listening to it. I played it on repeat. It became one of the best songs I have ever heard. All because of you.
I wonder if we ever overthink each other at the same time? That would be crazy. But it is possible. I mean, you can't forget someone if you're still hoping they'll come back. Right?
Harry, I adored you. I still do.
But I have to love myself more.
-Nixie
Please don't write back.
The words pierce my skin just as they did the first time, except this time they're breaking through scars that have just healed. I bleed, a single tear trickling slowly down my cold cheeks, falling off onto my chest. Why does it still hurt the same, when I know we're good now?
Why can't she stop hurting me?
I sit up, wide eyed as I take in my thought. I shouldn't think that. I love her. It's not her fault I read the letter again and again until I made it hurt me. I clench the paper in my hand tightly, standing up and shaking off some of the tension residing in my shoulders. I want to call her.
But what if she doesn't want me to? She said not to write back in the letter. Maybe I text her too much. Maybe I should just stop. Would she want that?
I bring my hands up to my cheeks, their coldness burning against the heat of my skin. I wish I could turn my mind off. It only does harm. But so does my phone, as it begins ringing suddenly with the upbeat, spiralling ringtone that belongs to Nixie.
Fuck.
I sigh, breath trembling with the unsteady falling of my chest as I pick up my phone from where it lies on the ground, seeing the photo of Nixie and I that is her contact photo. I want to scream. Can I scream?
"Hey!" I smile, hiding the pain in my voice.
"Hey," She grins back, skin clear and clean in the moon as it kisses her cheeks. Why is she awake?
"Why are you up so late?"
"Couldn't sleep. And I had a call with someone about photo stuff."
"Cool," I nod, eyes drifting off into empty space.
"Are you okay? You seem off..."
"Yeah, I'm fine." I lie, hoping it's good enough.
Is it good enough?
"Are you sure? You look a bit sad, that's all-"
"Nixie, I said I'm fine. Stop asking about it for god's sake." I snap, voice louder.
The moment I do so, I regret it. I regret the hurt that has passed from me to her as it registers in her eyes, their silver seeming just that little bit more grey. Shit. I can tell my words stung, even if I didn't mean them to. Why can't I just learn?
"I might get going now. I have something to do tomorrow. I don't want to be tired," Nix smiles slightly, fake and a mask covering how she actually feels. "I'll speak to you soon?"
I nod, chasing the last glimpse of her as she hangs up, leaving me alone with my own frustration. I have so many questions. All of them wrack my brain until my head hurts, the same pain of regret and wonder that now hits my heart like a spear.
Why can't I stop hurting her?
Why can't it just be easy?
Why do I keep messing it up?
Is this actually right?
Should we even be together?
I break, burying myself under the duvet covers and shutting eyes in desperation for sleep to take me, to take me away from my thoughts to another world. But it doesn't. In some ways, it does.
A daydream slowly envelopes me, dragging me into it's bright colours and sunny skies. I see Nixie and I, happy. We're happy without the underlying nauseous worry that destroys us, living in a nice suburban home, with two kids that run around crazily. It makes me smile.
She lives in daydreams with me.
I sit up, opening my eyes and reaching for my phone. A feeling inside me pulls on my heartstrings, the instrument that creates my music to the best quality. This could be something good. I open my notes app, typing whatever comes to my head first. I write down my dream.
Nine in the morning
The man drops his kids off at school
And he's thinking of you
Like all of us do
Sends his assistant for coffee in the afternoon
Around 1:32
Like he knows what to do...
It's so simple, but it's all I want. I don't want this fame forever, I don't want to be writing music all of my life. At the end of the day, I just want to love and be loved by the person who I love. Is that too much to ask for?
She,
She lives in daydreams with me
She's the first one that I see
And I don't know why...
That bit of worry that never seems to disappear. Do I even still know her?
I don't know who she is...
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