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i'm wearing my heart on my sleeve
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BROOKLYN'S POV
It's so mind-bending looking around at a completely empty stadium that holds eighty thousand people, knowing that in just a few short hours, every single seat will be occupied by an eager fan ready to sing and cry their heart out.
I've always been backstage or in a box that's relatively close to the stage, so I've never had this kind of view before. A view from the last row of the tallest section of seats that allows me to see the entire stadium around me, the stage sitting what seems like a mile away and a mile below me.
The boys' voices echo through the microphones as they move about the stage, looking like tiny specks from where I am. They've been doing soundcheck for about half an hour now, and I've been watching from up here for about ten minutes. I just got here from the hotel and came straight out to the arena instead of going to the green room, deciding to take the elevator all the way to the top to check out the view.
We're in Dallas, Texas, at AT&T Stadium. We arrived last night, and I was so tired that I fell asleep about ten minutes after we got to our hotel rooms.
I'm always tired lately. I feel like I barely get any sleep these days.
It's been a week since we were in St. Louis, and since then we've hit Chicago, Illinois; Detroit, Michigan; and Charlotte, North Carolina. We drove from St. Louis to Chicago and from Chicago to Detroit, then we hopped on a plane from Detroit to Charlotte and from Charlotte to Dallas.
My sleep schedule is so fucked up because of it and my body's definitely taking the hit, currently.
Along with the ridiculous travel schedule and the lack of sleep, this past week since St. Louis has been...weird. I don't know, everything has just felt kind of...off.
As if I didn't see Harry not a lot before, it's felt like that has gotten worse in the past week. The boys have had what feels like twice as many meetings, or writing sessions, or endorsements to film, or whatever else.
I think that's part of the reason my sleep schedule is so fucked up right now. The only times I catch with Harry lately are either a few minutes before a show, and then later that night when we're going to bed and we talk until we fall asleep, which is never that long to begin with because we're so exhausted.
The boys have had to go out after shows three times in the last week, and I only joined them once. I was technically 'encouraged' to go by one of the managers because there would be paparazzi, and that meant pictures of Harry and I and that means people will talk, and when people talk the band gets attention.
It's all very organized.
That night was kind of weird for me. I didn't really want to be dressed up and drinking that night anyway, so I was already in a very bleh mood to begin with. Harry seemed like he was having fun though, so I sucked it up and forced myself to try to have fun for a few hours. That was in Chicago, the first night they performed there.
The second night they went out again, but I didn't. I was so tired I physically couldn't stay up for that long; I barely even made it through the show. I had to leave backstage and go back to the green room about two-thirds of the way through the setlist because I was getting a headache. I went to bed before Harry got back that night and I didn't wake up when he came back, because when I actually did wake up the next morning, he was gone again like he is most mornings.
Not surprisingly, me not being out with the boys that second night prompted people to jump to conclusions about us. Did they break up? Are they fighting? Is the PR stunt over? No, people, I was tired. Devin texted me about it and I quickly cleared it up, and she had quite the laugh at the situation.
The Detroit show went off without a hitch and we were in and out of the city before I could blink. Everything moved really fast and we were on a flight to Charlotte so early the next morning that I could barely stand up properly in the airport because I was so drained. The shows were back to back which was a pain, especially for the boys because they had to go straight to soundcheck from the airport while I was dropped at the hotel and crashed for a few hours.
The Charlotte show was one and done, and thankfully we all got to go back to the hotel and crash that night. We had a few more hours the next morning before the flight to Dallas, which was yesterday, and we got in last night.
Which brings me here, at AT&T, watching soundcheck.
All of that sums up why this week has been less than memorable, and why I feel like I've barely had any kind of time with Harry besides when we're sleeping or something. It kind of sucks, so I'm not the peppiest today like I have been in the past. But I have to keep reminding myself that this is what I knew I was getting myself into, so I have to take it as it comes.
"Oi, fuck you!" Louis' voice grabs my attention, my eyes going to the stage again. "When's Brooklyn getting here, somebody needs to tame you..." He mumbles, annoyed.
I chuckle lightly at Louis' comment directed at Harry, and at the fact that none of them actually know I'm at the stadium right now, much less watching them. Which sounds a lot creepier than I intended it too, but I swear I just wanted to check out the view.
My phone starts to vibrate repeatedly in my lap and my eyes leave the stage to see that my mom is calling me, which I knew was coming because she texted me earlier saying she was going to at some point.
"Hey." I say quietly into the phone after I accept the call, my eyes back on the stage again as the boys prance around.
"Hello there. I feel like we haven't spoken in forever." She chuckles.
"Sorry about that. It's been...busy lately." I sigh.
"Are you doing okay?" She asks seriously and softly.
"Mhmm." I hum. "Tired sometimes, but I'm fine."
"Hmm..." She hums, and I can practically see the furrow in her eyebrow.
"Is there a specific reason you called?" I avert the subject.
"Can I not just talk to my daughter?" She chuckles teasingly.
"Of course you can. I just didn't know if there was something." I smile lightly even though she can't see me.
"Well, I suppose I did want to check in about that program I sent you and see if you thought about it anymore. Deadline's coming up, you know."
It was all the way back in Nashville, a little over a week ago, when my mom first brought this program up to me. When we spoke on the phone right before the show when I was up on the catwalk, she mentioned a link she had sent me, and I didn't get the chance to look at it until late that night on the bus when the boys had finally gone to sleep and it was quiet around me.
I guess 'program' is the best word for it, but I don't really know what else to call it. When I clicked on the link, I discovered that it was a year long intensive program in Hawaii for marine biology. My mom found out about it through the college counselor at the school who knew about it because one of the students had applied to the University of Hawaii this past year, or something like that.
My mom sent it to me thinking it would spark my interest– and she was right, it did– but I haven't really looked into it much more. I certainly haven't given the idea of applying for it any attention, because according to the start date, I would have to leave tour before it's over.
"I've thought about it." I respond. "But I don't know yet."
I hear her sigh through the phone. "That's okay. If it's not compelling, you can't force it."
"I don't know..." I repeat. "I might look into it some more. Are you sure they would, like, consider me for it?"
"Totally. They're still taking applications. It's aimed at people around your age, too."
"Seems like you're more eager than me, why don't you send in an application?" I chuckle.
"Because if I'm not here, who will take Cooper on his daily beach trip?" She jokes through the phone.
"Ugh, I miss him." I immediately say with a pout on my lips even though she can't see me.
"He's doing better than ever, I promise."
"Send more pictures of him, please. Especially ones at the beach."
"Will do."
"How's summer school, by the way?"
"Not too bad. Although, it felt like a sauna today. Something must be wrong with the air conditioning."
"Gross. It's disgustingly hot here too, I don't know how Texans do it." I grimace.
"You're there for the next two nights as well, aren't you?"
"Yep, San Antonio tomorrow and Houston the next night, all back to back."
"No wonder you're so tired."
"I mean, I really can't complain. Not when the boys look like they do."
"Goodness, poor things. How are they otherwise?"
"They're good. I'm watching sound check right now and Niall sounds like he's had a few espresso shots today."
"I was wondering what those echoes in the background were. What about Harry?"
"Doesn't do much except sleep and perform lately, so..."
"I wish I could come see a show and give him a visit." She sighs.
"I wish you could too. I think you would absolutely love it." I smile.
"Me too– Cooper, hey, don't pull on that!"
"What's he doing now?" I chuckle, my elbow going down on the armrest to prop my head up.
"Eating the couch."
"That's new."
"You have no idea. I'll let you go now, okay? Call or text for anything."
"I will, love you."
"Love you too."
I pull the phone away from my ear and sigh, ending the call. I sit up in my seat a little and stay on my phone, opening up Instagram and deciding to scroll for a few minutes. Because I have notifications turned off for the app, every time I open it, I see all those notifications that have been building up. I click on the icon to switch the screen to all my mentions and follow requests.
Bad idea.
It's a cycle, really. I don't look at notifications for days, then I convince myself it can't be that bad, then I look, then I regret it, and then a few days later I convince myself that it can't be that bad again.
Every time I look it's something new– a few days ago it was the way my shirt fit on me and today I guess it's how I looked sort of 'sad' in Charlotte the other day.
After ten seconds I shut my phone off again, deciding to leave the nosebleeds and finally go down to the green room. The boys are still bouncing around on stage but I can tell they're almost through the setlist, so I stand up and make my way down the stairs and to the exit. The hallways of these upper decks are eerily quiet right now, and my footsteps would echo if my shoes weren't so quiet.
I make my way past all of the closed concession stands and to the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor and watching the numbers above the doors decrease steadily. When they open again, I can hear the boys again. I step out and have no idea how to get backstage, so I opt to just follow the noise and eventually find myself inside the stadium again, this time with all the floor seats.
"Look who's finally here!" Liam stops himself short on his lyrics to greet me, the rest of the boys distracted by his words, and soon all eyes are on me.
"Finally!" Louis voices, and I raise my eyebrows. "Your boyfriend is acting up."
"Am not!" Harry rebuttals. "I have energy." He looks at me.
"That makes one of us." I mumble to myself under my breath before speaking up so they can hear me. "How the hell do I get backstage?" I yell so they can hear me.
"What are we, chopped liver?" Niall raises his arms like he's offended.
"You sure look like it." Zayn says while looking directly at Niall, making Niall's jaw drop and I stifle a laugh.
"Come all the way around on this side of the stage and there's a staircase, love." Harry says while looking at me, pointing to the far back left corner of the stage.
"Aw, lov– " Niall teases, shutting up when Harry smacks him on the back of the head.
Zayn starts singing again and I follow Harry's directions, walking all the way past the floor seats and up to the side of the stage, seeing the staircase he was talking about and making my way up it. I'm greeted with a sight that's the opposite of my view I just had from the nosebleeds– the entire stadium from the view of the stage.
"Hi." Harry jogs up to me, wrapping an arm around my waist and kissing my temple, his microphone in his other hand.
"Hey." I smile lightly. "How are you?"
"Running on straight caffeine."
"Yikes." I widen my eyes. "Are you guys almost done?"
He nods. "Probably...twenty more minutes, give or take. You're more than welcome to hang out, or you can go back to my dressing room and wait."
"Your dressing room? That's new."
"I know," he smiles, "this place is so massive, we each get our own dressing room."
"Does this dressing room happen to have food?"
"'Course. There's also more in the actual green room too."
"Ooh, options."
"I'll be back in twenty." He repeats again, leaning down and kissing my nose before turning and jumping back into the chorus with the boys.
I smile, turning and following all of the cords to the main backstage area, and then following crew members moving back and forth to a big hallway that I presume holds the dressing rooms. I have no idea which one is Harry's, so I'm praying there's a sign or something on his door that'll tell me and I won't have to start opening random doors.
Magically, I come up on Zayn's door that has his name on the piece of paper stuck on it. The next door is Niall's, and when I feel like I'm getting warmer, Harry's is next, with Liam and Louis on the next two doors.
I enter the quiet room with Harry's name on it, shutting it behind me and observing the place. There's not much– a couple couches, a countertop with mirrors, a table, and two doors on the opposite wall that I presume are a bathroom and a closet. I see the food Harry was talking about on the countertops, recognizing the platters of sandwiches that are classic tour food and immediately going to grab one. I pick the meat off of it first and then collapse on the couch after, chewing and mindlessly staring at the ceiling.
It's freezing in here, which is good and bad; good because it's hotter than the devil's armpit outside and the coolness is nice, bad because I don't have a jacket because who carries a jacket with them when it's hotter than the devil's armpit outside?
I sit up searching for a blanket or something, not finding one but instead finding a flannel of Harry's sitting on the other couch that was hidden from my sight until now. I stand up and grab it, slipping it through my arms and rolling the sleeves all the way down so the goosebumps on my arms settle down.
I sit back on the couch, pulling my phone out and occupying myself for the next twenty minutes or so until Harry comes back by spamming Devin, Reagan, and Hadley with texts until one of them responds. Since they all have lives, it takes a few minutes before one of them gives into my annoyingness and gives me the time of day.
It's closer to thirty minutes when I hear the squeak of sneakers on the tile in the hallway, doors opening and closing, and sooner than later, Harry's coming back into the room with a hand in his unruly hair.
"You look like you need a nap." I immediately say as I put my phone down, his eyes snapping to me.
"Feels like it too." He sighs, making his way over to me on the couch and collapsing on top of me. "This is mine." He comments with his face buried in my neck, tugging on the flannel I'm wearing.
"I was cold, and it was right there."
"There's a thermostat over by the door, you know."
"Oh. Well I didn't know."
"Well now you can't touch it because you'll take this off and you're not allowed to."
I chuckle, wrapping my arms around his neck. A few moments later, he's lifting himself off of me and propping himself up on his hands, looking down on me as he hovers.
"Now tell me what's bothering you." He states firmly but softly, making me furrow my eyebrows.
"What?"
"I can tell something's bothering you. I can see it. I can sense it." He emphasizes, his eyes flickering between mine.
"Nothing's bothering me."
"Wrong."
"I'm fine–"
"Wrong again. Talk to me."
I sigh. "How are you so good at reading me?" I murmur.
He shrugs. "Not hard when I know you so well."
I cross my arms under him and avert my eyes for a second, looking back up at him waiting patiently for me to either tell him or insist on brushing it off again.
"I'm...I don't know. I'm just tired. And I miss you. And I know you're right here, but I feel like this is the longest conversation we've had this entire week." I chuckle dryly. "I don't know." I repeat, shrugging my shoulders.
"I'm sorry." He says softly.
"Not your fault." I shake my head firmly, reaching up to brush back the hair that's fallen in front of his face. "It is what it is."
"But it shouldn't be. If I had more control over our schedule–"
"I know. We've been having this conversation since last summer." I chuckle. "You would do it differently, trust me, I know. It's just what we have to deal with right now."
"I know, but I hate it, too." He looks to the floor for a second like he's thinking before looking back at me. "Is that all?" He asks gently again.
"I guess." I sigh. "Just that on top of the whole...people saying things, you know...it all just...is what it is." I repeat. "It's like– I entered this world, your world, of music and headlines and fans, and it's hard finding a place in this world when I'm not exactly welcome in it."
He doesn't respond, only flicks his eyes between mine like he's contemplating something again. Suddenly, he pushes himself off of the couch, un-trapping me, and digs his fingers into his back pocket to pull out his phone.
"What are you doing?" I ask, sitting up so I'm eye level with his stomach and looking up at him. He still doesn't say anything, his thumbs going crazy on his phone screen.
"Harry..." I warn, watching as a mischievous smile creeps up on his face ever so slowly.
"I may not have control over my schedule..." he starts, "...but I do have control over...the other thing." He says firmly, making me furrow my eyebrows.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean...I know exactly what you mean when you say that, and if I can control something that will take a weight off of your shoulders, I'll control it."
"Okay but I still don't know where this is going."
A few seconds pass and he's turning his phone screen around to me, my eyes landing on what he had to have been inferring, which is a picture of me, but the picture was posted on Instagram a few seconds ago.
"Harry." My face falls, and I stand up suddenly so we're almost chest to chest. I yank the phone from his hand, messing around on the screen and making sure he's not messing with me. "Harry, you're going to be in so much trouble." I look up at him and he's only smiling.
"You think I care?"
"I do!" I exasperate. "Why did you do this?"
Both his hands fall to my hips. "I know how gross people can be. So now, I just confirmed that we're together, and subsequently debunked the millions of theories flying around. It'll shut people up."
"You're gonna be in so much trouble..." I mumble again, staring at the phone with a hand cupped over my mouth.
"They can bitch at me all they want. Two minutes later they'll be concerned with tour again and we can finally live without the ambiguity."
Part of me wants to believe him because he's been in this business long enough to know what he's talking about. The other part of me is already convincing myself that he just fanned the already big flames and this is just going to make everything worse.
Either way, it's too late to turn back now.
"Oh my god." I groan, my head going forward so my forehead lands on his chest. He chuckles, wrapping his arms around my waist and placing his chin on my head. I turn my head to the side and look back at the post that's already swarming with likes. "At least it's not a bad picture..." I mumble.
"It's my favorite picture of you."
It's from last summer, one of me standing on the beach. I remember when he took it because I was facing away from him and he got my attention, and I whipped my head around to see him holding up his phone. The picture was taken before I could blink. The wind in my hair adds a dramatic effect, too. I look below the picture at the caption, not having read it earlier, seeing it's just captioned '1 year...'
"One year?" I smile into his chest.
"Yeah. I mean, we've basically been officially together for a year. Maybe not to the day, but they don't know that."
"I still cannot believe you just did that." I whisper, shutting off his phone and sliding it back in his pocket.
He suddenly catches me off guard, picking me up by my waist and spinning around, collapsing on the couch so I'm laying on top of him.
"If you want, I can talk about you during the show tonight to reinforce it." He jokes.
"Don't you fucking dare."
"I don't know, I might."
"I'm happy that it's out there finally, but I'm just scared for the reprimand you're about to get."
"Like I said, I could care less."
This is going to come back and bite us in the ass, isn't it?
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uh oh