Harry didn’t make a sound as I relayed that night with Christopher and Louise. He didn’t ask any questions, just listened as I told him about the following morning on the porch steps when Kelly gave me the guitar. It was terrifying to tell him about my past, but addicting at the same time; once I started I couldn’t stop, everything spilled out. How my parents were crack-heads who left me in the dumpsters outside the hospital and how I would have died that day if a nurse hadn’t taken the side door out of the building; the countless families I’d been passed on to, unable to mold myself into a single one. I told him about my college scholarship and how I’d begged for a chance to study abroad, the wish granted after I’d spent countless hours organizing it myself. Then I found myself telling him about the past year, the lack of money and my desperation, all leading up to that horrifying night in the little restaurant where I used to perform.
My voice broke as I came to the part where The Bastard took me outside and I stopped talking, tears burning in the back of my throat. I’d never spoken of it, I’d buried that night back so far into the depths of my mind I thought I’d never remember it, yet I did. The memory was crystal clear, terrifyingly so.
“It’s okay, Mia,” Harry reassured, the first words he’d spoken since I started talking. His large hand engulfed my trembling fingers and squeezed them tightly, “you don’t have to keep going.”
I sniffed to try and withhold the tears. “I-I think I want to,” I whispered, my watery eyes fixed on his hand in my lap. And I did. I told him how he’d humiliated me in the back of his Mercedes, how I’d wept silently as he dominated me and made me his, left his mark. I’d quit school only days later, withdrawing from both Westminster and the college back in the States. I didn’t have the time or motivation anymore, nor did I ever leave my flat unless I was on my way to a man’s home. It was that quick, that horrifically easy for my dreams to fall apart and for everything I’d worked for to slip from my grasp. London and Westminster were my chance to get away, my only escape from the nightmare that chased me throughout my childhood, but I should’ve know it was too good to be true.
By the time I’d finished, we were pulling into his cobble-stoned driveway, a massive white house that could only be labeled as a mansion to my right. He cut the engine and the silence engulfed us, choking off every attempt at conversation we might’ve made. Had I just ruined the past few days? Had unloading my past on him driven a wedge between us that I hadn’t foreseen? Part of me realized that this wasn’t such a bad thing; the more distant the more safe I was. But the other half was terrified that I’d lost the only man that made me feel like I was worth more than a useless whore.
Finally he turned to me, his eyes just as dewy as mine, and cupped my chin in his hand. “Mia,” he said softly, his voice breaking slightly, “I wish I could undo all of that, every last minute of it, but all I can do is promise that I’ll do my best to make sure you never have to feel that way again.” I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but it only made it bigger. Every attempt to hold in the tears was to no avail, they fell anyway, sliding down my cheeks in thick droplets to drip from my jaw or settle in the contours of my lips. “Hush, love, you’re okay,” Harry murmured, swiping a thumb across my cheek to rid it of a fresh tear. My lips trembled and I tried to shake my head, but he held my face firmly in his hands. Didn’t he know I wasn’t okay? That every word I said was bringing me closer and closer to a hospital bed, and potentially my grave? No, he had no idea…
Suddenly his lips were on mine, a slow, tender kiss that made my stomach twist into knots. His fingers were almost too big for my face, fingertips burrowed in my hair; his tongue took away the salt of my tears and replaced it with his sweet taste, a taste that was so familiar, yet I couldn’t place.
Slowly, he pulled away and let his forehead rest against mine. My lips parted to speak, but I closed them again, not wanting to break the silence that settled, delicate and breakable as a snowflake. Wordlessly, he let his hand slide down my shoulder and over my arm so our fingers tangled together and gave them a gentle squeeze. “Come inside now, let’s take your mind off of everything.”
I nodded and followed him out of the car and into the house. At first I was scared to even touch the doorknob for fear of tarnishing it, let alone walk across the freshly-finished hardwood flooring. The furnishings were simple and modern, a fire already ablaze in the fireplace. The kitchen was incredible with its marble finishes and clearly imported woodwork…everything in the house put my barely-furnished flat to shame. “This is amazing,” I breathed, mostly to myself, but he turned around with a bashful smile.
“Thanks, mum helped me decorate.” I couldn’t help the smile that twitched across my lips. There was something so sweetly innocent about his mother helping him pick out the sofa in the living room or the handles on the kitchen cabinets, and then I remembered he was my age, only eighteen, and, like me, had to act like a grown-up. “What?” he asked, blushing when he caught my smile.
“Nothing,” I replied with a shrug, “You’re just different than I thought you’d be.”
He smirked. “Expected a spoiled brat of a popstar, didn’t you?”
“Well…yeah,” I admitted, twirling the ends of my hair between my fingertips.
“Sorry to disappoint,” he mused, playfully flicking my chin with his index finger before continuing through the kitchen.
“Not a disappointment…Sweet Jesus, how many rooms do you have in this house? Are there more floors?”
He laughed and slung his arm around my hips, tugging my close to his side. “I like a challenge when I wake up in the middle of the night and need a wee.”
“Ew, too much information,” I wrinkled my nose and he laughed again before opening a door across from the stairs. He ran a hand over the wall until finding the light switch and flicked it on. My mouth dropped at the sight: a fully engineered recording studio tucked in the back of his house. His house! “My god…” I sighed, taking a slow step inside and gazing around. The back wall was lined with guitars and basses, two drum kits in the corner, and a baby grand in the other. “How…why…” I couldn’t even finish a sentence.
“We all have them, in case we get any ideas while we’re just hanging out at home. They’re so we can record songs and stuff while they’re fresh in our minds and then show our songwriters later to tweak them.” he approached the soundboard and turned a few knobs, illuminating the buttons and switches.
“This doesn’t even looked used.” I observed, passing through the open door to the recording room and standing before the wall of guitars. My fingers itched to pluck the nearest acoustic from the wall and play until my heart’s content, but I held back.
“Because it isn’t,” he chuckled, “We haven’t had any bright ideas yet, so it’s just kind of sat here.”
“Seems a waste…” I said, daring to drag my fingers over the nearest instrument’s glossy finish. It was a Gibson, a work of art.
“Wanna play?” he asked, his footsteps coming up behind me.
“You’re going a little towards Saw now,” I teased, “You aren’t planning on forcing me to cut myself into pieces for your enjoyment are you?”
He smiled and settled his hands on my waist, “No, weirdo, I mean do you want to play the guitar.”
“Oh! Hell yeah I do,” I didn’t hesitate it snatching it off of the wall, cradling it against my chest and brushing my fingertips across the strings. I was momentarily mesmerized before he pulled up two stools, perching atop the first.
“When I say ‘John Mayer’, what’s the first song that comes to mind?”
“Born and Raised,” I replied without thinking, my left hand already forming the first chord on the guitar strings.
“Sing it,” he said, the corner of his mouth pulling into a lop-sided grin.
“Here? Now?” I asked, my eyebrows raising, “But…”
“I like hearing you sing. We all do. Please?” his eyes widened into pleading, puppy-dog pouts and I rolled my eyes.
“Fine, fine…” I took my place on the other stool and looped the guitar strap around my shoulders. I closed my eyes for a minute to remember the correct song, then slowly my fingers started to go. “Now and then I pace my place, I can’t retrace how I got here. I cheat the light to check my face, it’s slightly harder than last year…” Harry’s raspy voice joined mine for the chorus and my gaze flickered over to him. He was watching me, the smallest hint of a smile on his face as he did so.
“And all at once it gets hard to take, it gets hard to fake what I won’t be. Cause one of these days I’ll be born and raised, and it’s such a waste to grow up lonely…” as I sang, the memories of my childhood raced across my mind like a movie reel. Every lonesome day, every dream that never was, every year that seemed to grow harder and harder…Harry dropped out again and continued to watch me, but my eyes were closed now and I was engulfed in the music.
“I still have dreams, they’re not the same, they don’t fly as high as they used to. I saw my friend, he’s in my head, and he said ‘You don’t remember me, do you?’.” I sang through to the end, the last note fading into silence until I opened my eyes.
“You’re amazing,” Harry blinked at me, his fingers intertwined loosely at his knees, shoulders slightly hunched. “Next you’ll tell me you write too.” I bit my lip, blushing and turning to the floor. “You do!” he whooped as if he’d just struck gold. “Sing one!”
My blush deepened, “No, it’s really not that good, I’ll just embarrass myself—“
“Please, Mia…for me?” he pouted again and I found myself unable to say no. I muttered another “fine” under my breath and grabbed a capo off of the nearby table. After a bit of fiddling and another bashful glance up at him, I started to play.
“When your light goes out, and there’s no one there to keep you warm, I’ll be there to hold your hand and guide you through the storm…don’t look back, love, there’s no one there now. Don’t shed a single tear, love, they aren’t worth the pain. No one goes on without scars to remind them, and you are just the same…” I riffed a bit, the lyrics still a mess in my head and I fumbled for another verse, but Harry found one first.
“I’ve never believed in love until you took my hand. The shadows gave way to candlelight and the sun chased away the rain…”
I stopped playing and stared at him, my mouth hanging slightly open. “Harry Styles. You are a wonder.”
“Mia.” He repeated, mimicking my intonation, “You are amazing.” I smiled and glanced away, not wanting him to see my lingering blush. There was a slight creak of hinges as he dismounted his stool, crossing the small space and resting his arms on the guitar in my lap. His face hung so close to mind I could feel his breath. He leaned in slightly closer until his lips brushed against mine, barely a kiss, then he inched a bit closer…
And then my phone began to ring.