Harry Styles
I dropped my mum off at LAX this morning after we went for a very hungover breakfast. She wondered where I disappeared off to last night, and before I even opened my mouth, she told me she knew I was with Halle. She has a sixth sense for that kind of thing.
My mum went on and on about how Halle is so 'cute' and how she's so talented. She then said Halle could pass as being a model with 'those legs' and that she is one of the loveliest people I've introduced her to since being in LA. She loves her record, and I do too, I mean, who doesn't?
She's been all over the radio this morning. I've heard the name Halle Henry so many times outwith my own mind that I just can't comprehend it. She isn't just the girl who open dmy tour anymore, she's somebody who's going to change the whole music industry without even realising it.
Driving back to the apartment, I was just listening to the radio and then, the host started talking about Halle and her album. I started smiling, a strange feeling of pride surged over me as I whispered to myself 'that's our Halle'. I don't know who 'our' is, it just feels better than saying 'my' Halle like I sometimes imagine.
Then they started talking about last night and the paparazzi pictures where we had our middle fingers up to the paps. I was worried people were going to take it negatively, but the radio hosts started saying how it was 'iconic' and that it's one of those pictures that'll become posters and that people will hang up on their bedroom walls, like all those paparazzi pictures of Cher.
I did see the picture they're on about, I saw it this morning when I was out for breakfast with my mum. I'm standing looking at the camera square one with both of my middle fingers up at them, Halle is standing side on, giving them just one middle finger which, due to the angle of the camera, is right in front of her face. Her red outfit, the little red dress with the knee high boots make it look ten times better. It looks like a staged photo, and to be honest, it's one of the coolest pictures I've ever seen.
I'm not biased, I swear.
When I got back, everyone was in the lounge. Everyone, meaning Halle, Mitch, Sarah, Adam, Mick, Sam and some of the tech guys and producers that work for both Halle and I. Sam took to his feet the second I walked in with a smile on his face and his arms out, which is rare. It really isn't often Sam is all positive and walking towards me with his arms open.
"Harry." He states, placing his hands on my shoulders. "You're nominated for two Grammys."
My heart dropped, it took me a whole ten seconds to realise what Sam had actually just told me. My heart rate must've been beating at double the speed and if I've never had an out of body experience before, well I definitely have now.
"And the Maritime awards in New York, you're up for two as well." Sam says, his smile telling me just how big this was.
I remember him telling me I was dying down and that Halle was the labels new priority. It's why they rushed me into her studio so quickly. Now I'm up for two Grammys, it shows that I wasn't dying down, people still listen to me and people think I could win a fucking Grammy. People think I could win two.
"Holy fuck." I said, still in disbelief. "Seriously?"
"Harry fucking Styles is up for two Grammys!" Sam cheered, pulling me in for a brotherly hug which I immediately gave back to him.
It's strange how the feeling of being told you're nominated for an award never changes with how much time you spend as an artist. It still feels so surreal. To be nominated for two Grammys is an absolute blessing, it was my dream as a child and now here I am. If there wasn't a room full of people, I'd probably cry.
I made my way around, hugging everyone and taking in their kind words of congratulations, and then I reached Halle. She looks tired, hungover maybe but I do too, and I feel like shit so I can't blame her. She held her arms out and I leaned down to hug her. It didn't feel like a total crime for once, because it was a hug of congratulations and to be honest, she was the one I was waiting to see.
"Congratulations Harry." She smiled, pulling back and looking into my eye with the most genuine, innocent grins I've ever seen.
"What about you?" I asked her, knowing all too well that she'd have won an award too, if not a Grammy, a Maritime one.
"I'm up for one of the New York Maritime awards." She smiled excitedly, and I pulled her in for a hug to congratulate her.
I can't imagine how exciting this is for her. She released her debut record just hours ago, she's won awards for her performances and music she released before even having an album. She's breaking records left right and centre, and now that she has a full album to her name, I can't imagine the success that'll come with it.
'Misery Business' is currently number three on the charts, and there are like five of her songs she realised just last night that are already in the top 50. I don't think my debut did that, and I genuinely, don't think there has been a female rock star to do it either. The rock genre is dominated by men, and to think that Halle has come in and absolutely blown everyone away is amazing. She's proving that rock music isn't sung by men with tattoos and nicotine addictions, but women with pretty faces and personalities.
"Halle, it's half past, taxis here." Mick shouted, grabbing his bag and rushing out the front door.
Halle smiled, clearly loving this new lifestyle of hers, I just hope she gets it this way forever. I hope Halle lives this rock star life the way it should be, without people dictating her every move. I hope the media never ruins this life for her, and I hope I don't either.
"Interview." She smirked. "See you later...congrats again, you deserve it."
I barely had the time to say goodbye. She was in a rush to get away to this interview and it made me smile to be honest. The way she gets so excited over people taking interest in her art, and it goes to show just how grateful she is, and how much it all means to her.
I spoke to the producers, Sam and all the people here for a while, then I headed up to shower, an attempt to wash away the hangover I'm currently suffering. I should go to the studio, I should probably write a song or two, but my mind is so clouded over with thoughts and regret, regret from drinking so much last night that is.
I have it on vinyl. A lot of people at the label got a signed copy of it and I was one. So when she becomes ten times more famous than me, maybe I'll auction it off and become extra rich, or maybe I'll keep it forever and listen to it at 80 years old, feeling nostalgic as I remember the girl my younger self would get butterflies over.
Halle started talking about her career and her dad, it was nice hearing her talk so passionately about her family. Then she spoke about winning awards, and then about touring with me, and then about our cover of Dream On, and then about whether we were a thing or not.
Of course Halle said no, she said we were best friends and that she was grateful for everything she's had because of the friendship we've made. She answered like our managers would tell us to, she answered exactly like she was supposed to, but part of me started wondering what things would be like if we didn't have the same record label.
Halle Henry
I don't think I've ever been more tired in my life.
To start with, I woke up insanely hungover, still in last night's clothes and ten minutes later than I should've woken up. Then, I got downstairs, found out I'm up for two maritime awards so used absolutely any ounce of energy I had to get excited about that. Then found out Harry was up for two fucking Grammys and got excited on his behalf. Then I had a two hour long interview which was fun, I enjoyed it a lot but after two hours of conversation, my social battery was totally flat.
I went for dinner with Mick and a few producers, had a few glasses of wine and called it a night at 9PM. I needed to go to sleep, I felt like a walking corpse. Driving home in the taxi, my song was on the radio and I found out that there are five of my songs in the top fifty already, despite it being out for a day only.
Comprehending that is difficult, comprehending that this is my life full stop is fucking crazy. It's been a hectic few days, and all I need right now is a bath, a good book, shaved legs and fresh bed sheets. I'm a simple woman.
When I walked down to my apartment door, my name was called from behind me, and when I say I almost started crying, I mean it. I was so close, so close to peace and quiet for just a few hours. I put on my happy face and turned around though, regardless of the fact I was internally screaming.
It was Harry, and he looked just as tired as I felt. He wandered down the hallway, and I then made the decision to invite him inside. I don't know why, because I really fucking want to go to bed, but I suppose if there is anybody's company I can tolerate right now, it's Harry's.
"Tired?" He asked, sitting down on my leather couch. I nodded my head and I sat next to him.
He looked frustrated, like there were a million thoughts swimming around that mind of his. I'd sympathise and say I understand, because at times I do, but whenever he's near, all those thoughts seem to vanish.
"What's wrong?" I asked, looking right at him as I swing my legs up onto the couch.
I don't know why he came here, but perhaps it's for the reason I want it to be. Perhaps he needed comfort, a friend to talk to or to know that somebody is there for him, and if so then I'm glad he is here. If not, then I don't have a clue, but I know that if it was the latter, I'd relate heavily.
"Sam's not letting me go to New York." He says flatly.
"For the Maritime awards?" I ask him confusedly, raising a brow.
"Yup." He sighs. "He doesn't think I'll win and wants me to stay and record new stuff."
"What?!" I exclaim. "That's such bullshit. You're nominated for two fucking Grammy's! Is he right in the fucking head?"
Harry smiled a little, and then sat back more comfortably. "God knows. It'll be fine though, and if I win, can I ask you to accept them on my behalf?"
I looked at him confused, because why would he want me to accept his award on his behalf? I'm just Halle Henry, I'm not a fraction of what he is. Then I remembered, Harry and I are what people describe as the 'iconic friendship of '78', and that it would make sense if I did, in terms of publicity.
"Yeah, of course." I smiled flatly, disheartened a little by the fact that this isn't all about our true friendship or whatever is in the air between us, but about publicity and selling something that isn't necessarily true. That's Hollywood though I guess, and I signed right up for it.
I fold my arms and rest my head on the top of the couch, "Why are they letting me go and not you?"
"You just released an album, the more appearances the better. Sure I'm up for Grammy's and all that, but you're making them more money right now than I am. I hate to say it like this, I really do, but they need me recording so that when you 'die down', I can release an album and people will start talking about a different artist for a little while. It's about money, it's shit, but it's true." He says, looking me in the eye apologetically.
Sometimes, when I remember just how heavily influenced by money the industry is, my heart breaks a little. The fact they're making Harry record a record for when people move on from mine hurts a tiny bit, but it isn't his fault I guess. He just makes the music, the rest of it is in the hands of the label.
"I'm gonna go independent when my contract is up. I hate the way they do things here." I sigh, "I've got until November I think, or September, I can't remember, but I've like, actually looked into it and I think I'm sorted."
Harry opens his eyes wider in surprise, "Really? You're actually gonna do it?"
"Yeah, I think so. It's always been a dream." I tell him through a yawn.
When Harry noticed me yawn, he did too, and then we shared an awkward chuckle. My eyes watered with tiredness, and when I wiped them, Harry held out an arm and cocked his head, inviting me to lie against him.
So I did. I lay on my couch with my head resting on Harry's chest, his arm around me and his head resting on the top of mine. I could hear the thumping of his heart, and felt my own heart begin to flutter as I fought back the urge to smile.
We sat in silence for a few minutes, just listening to breaths leave each other's mouths and take in the depths of comfort we had both just fallen into. I feel so safe, not in my apartment, but in Harrys arms and I hate that I do, I hate how much I love the butterflies I get whenever he smiles at me, because realistically, nothing can ever come of it.
His hand eventually travelled down to meet mine, and his fingers tangled with my own as his thumb stroked the sides of my palm that it held. Him holding my hand has become such an important thing to me, it's become something I always find myself searching for whenever he's here. The comfort it brings me is scary, yet that action alone has been able to get rid of any negative thought in mind since the very first time he held my hand.
It's like when people say they have a thing, and I think Harry and I's 'thing' is holding hands. Only in private though, under tables at award shows or in private rooms where nobody can see. Whether that makes it better or worse I'm not sure, but it doesn't matter much to me anyway as long as it brings me peace.
"What are we doing Harry?" I whispered through a yawn, my ear pressed to his chest listening to the music coming from his heart.
"I don't know Hal," He paused, running his thumb over my knuckles. "I care about you."
"I care about you too." I say back.
"You know I'd never do anything to intentionally hurt you, right?" He says, and I took a moment to figure out what he had meant. "You know that, right? I care about you a lot."
Trying not to let my tired mind trick me into overthinking, I just smiled. "I know."
He kissed the top of my head, and let out another yawn, which triggered me to do the same. H ethne stood up , taking me by the hand to my bedroom which is in the exact same place as his. His was very colourful, yellow bed sheets and coloured prints on the walls. Mine isn't, I have some plants, but it's black grey and white, nothing exciting or fancy.
Harry turned on the lamp beside my bed, and he turned the big one off. Then, grabbed the large t-shirt I had tossed over a chair in the corner, to pass to me to change into presumably. So I did, I flung my clothes into the wash basket, changed into the massive green t-shirt harry had just handed me, and waited for what was to come next.
"Do you-"
"Stay." I interrupt nervously.
Harry nodded his head like he understood. I had answered the question he was going to ask, so he took his clothes off, stripped down to his boxers and climbed into bed beside me. Fior a minute or two, we lay facing each other, just looking into each other's eyes, both probably thinking about things so very different, yet the exact same.
Then he kissed my forehead, reached behind me to flick off the light, and wrapped his arms around me so I was lying as close as I possibly could to him.
"Goodnight Halle Henry." He whispered. "I can feel your heartbeat."
"Goodnight Harry Styles." I smiled so much I felt stupid, but thankfully it was so dark Harry couldn't see. "I can feel yours too."