Harry Styles
After show blues.
The easiest way to define them would be "the sadness after a performance."
Only this time, it's much different.
These blues don't seem to be caused by the show in San Francisco.
I've already taken a plane to LA, laying in the empty bed in my too-green apartment, and haven't even turned on 'Friends'.
Even though it has only been 6 hours since the performance, the misery doesn't feel like stopping anytime soon.
Especially not if I keep scrolling through the dozens of articles in hopes to find new clues or explanations. I know I shouldn't believe everything on the internet, but, then again, she admitted she's intentionally harmed somebody, and it just doesn't sit right with me.
Now that I keep rethinking our "conversation" back in that hallway, I realize I should've given her a chance to explain herself.
The more I think about it, the guiltier I feel for being so harsh. I can't imagine what stress levels she must be going through right now. In fact, I have no idea where she is at all because she hasn't come home yet.
I hope she hasn't gone back to her crime-scene apartment.
With more worry filling my body, I reach out for my flip phone. I'm about to dial her number when I hear a soft knock at my door.
A huge wave of relief washes over me because I'd recognize that energetic knock anywhere, except this time it's as timid and shy as it could possibly be.
My nerves immediately strike up again when I think about having to see her at this time. About a minute passes until I gather the courage to walk over to the door.
The moment I swing it right open, my breath gets taken away by just looking at her. Her eyes are so red from crying, and her cheeks are extremely pink from her nerves, while she draws her trembling fingers through her messy curls, which look perfect even on the worst day.
"Hi," I whisper, trying to figure out where this will lead us.
"Hi." She breathes out, gathering the courage to continue. "Uhm... This is going to sound weird, but... would you like to go somewhere quiet? Escape to a calmer place? I promise I'll explain everything if you'll let me."
Before I have the chance to respond, she quickly adds on. "But it's completely fine if you don't want anything to do with me. I'll pack my stuff, and be out of your sight right away, then."
I rest my head against the doorframe, having an inner battle with myself. "No need to do that." I need to hear her story first. Her head immediately shoots up, as if she's surprised I'm so calm.
"What'd you have in mind for the quiet place?" I rub my eyes, wishing we could just get past this situation without going through all this trouble.
Her teary eyes are glued to her feet for a while before she faintly says. "Malibu Beach. It's less than an hour's drive from here. I haven't been there for years, ever since my dad passed."
There's a slightly awkward silence between us for a moment, which contains me re-evaluating the choices in front of me. I should at least hear her out, right?
"Okay."
"Okay?" She asks again in disbelief like she'd expected to have to be more persevering.
"Okay."
That's the last word that gets spoken before I put my shoes on and lead us to the barely-working white convertible.
Okay. I guess we're doing this.
~~~
I've never spent a car ride that long in pure silence.
The radio wasn't even on. The poetry CDs weren't even spinning. Not a single word was uttered in this eerie stillness.
Even though I kept my sight on the road at all times, I noticed Amber fiddling with her nailbeds, which made me even more nervous. An innocent person wouldn't be so anxious.
So we're left to keep driving while just listening to the purr of the often-malfunctioning engine leading us up to the sandy beach.
The GPS on my phone beeps as we've finally reached our destination. Once I finally turn off the engine, there's a certain kind of sorrow washing over us as we both watch the huge waves through the windshield.
"It's so windy and bleak today." This is the first thing that I think to say, and I want to facepalm myself for starting a conversation about the fucking weather.
We both look at the abandoned shore, watching as there's not a single person setting foot on the cold sand.
"Maybe it'll clear up." She responds, and it breaks my heart to hear her voice so blue.
For a few seconds, Amber's sight stays glued to one point ahead in nowhere particular, and I watch as her eyes suddenly start glossing over. Right as her chin starts quivering, she pulls the handle to open the car door, stumbling out of the vehicle.
I get overtaken by the salty beach air the moment I exit the convertible to follow after her. She's stopped in her tracks now, having her back turned to me as if she's ashamed that I have to see her in this state. Her shoulders shake with each breath she takes, and the closer I approach her, the more clearly I get to hear her small sniffles.
"Hey," I whisper, making sure she knows I'm here. I gently nudge her to turn around and twist myself in a way that finally lets us be face-to-face, except her hands are covering her expressions.
I wrap my fingers around her wrists, gently pulling down her hands, which let me take in her puffy eyes, and pink damp cheeks.
"I never meant for any of this to happen, Harry. P-Please believe me." She chokes out the words, her whole body trembling in the wave of sadness. Her lashes keep sticking together from the salty tears, and her hair keeps blowing in her face by the wind, but somehow it makes her even more beautiful.
"I promise I'm not a bad person." She lets out the words in hysteria, breaking my heart into pieces one by one. "I-I promise." I'm way too stunned to respond.
I absolutely hate seeing her cry. It's taking every drop of willpower in me to not take her in my embrace while saying it's fine, and she doesn't need to explain. Except, I do deserve to hear an explanation.
She's now moved into a stage of her breakdown where she tries to calm down, but her body's so debilitated, that it keeps juddering, almost seizing on its own, that she's visibly struggling to even inhale.
"W-What 'New York' said about my behavior in jail is absolute bullshit, Harry. I don't have anything to prove I'm right, but you just have to believe me, okay?" She wipes under her eyes, but the tears have traveled all over her face, so there's no point in trying to clear them.
She struggles to breathe. "I'm not a murderer." She's back to putting her hands over her face, but when I gently touch her elbow, she's pulling them down again. "I'd never willingly hurt anybody."
When she says that, my heart sinks to my stomach because I absolutely believe her, which is why I'm beyond confused now. We're talking about the girl who gets so excited about crocheting, cats, new grills and owns a Crocs & soap collection at home.
"I know you wouldn't, baby," I whisper, but my sentence gets overtaken by the sound of Malibu beach's waves.
"I just... I just wish you didn't get dragged into this mess." She lets out a sob, and I become concerned it's getting too much for her. "I'm so sorry."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She repeats, her voice full of panic. "I'm sorry."
To every "I'm sorry" she weeps, I respond with an "It's okay" in return, finally folding. With no question in my mind, I wrap my arms around her almost-limp body, hugging her tighter than necessary to soothe her pain.
I let her sob into my shirt, soaking up her tears in the white fibers. I let her cling to me tightly despite the fact I'm still extremely confused.
One thing I find really irritating in this situation is how quickly I've forgiven her. Almost none of the rumors have been debunked, yet there's not a single cell in my body that holds any anger or resentment toward her.
I pull her closer to me, trying to hold her in a way that would seem calming while tracing my thumb up and down over her arm delicately.
A minute or two of us standing without uttering a word passes before I feel her pull back a little to with her tears with her palms.
She inhales a deep breath, letting it out through her mouth. "It's hard to explain, you know. Only a couple of people know about this."
"Would you like to take a walk?" I gesture to the raving sea, watching as her chestnut curls get blown in all directions.
She nods, taking my hand and pulling me to the shoreline, losing our shoes somewhere along the way.
"Okay. So..." She has to take another breath. It makes me tremble in the anxiety of what I'm about to hear.
The ice-cold water splashes against our feet, and now I'm suddenly not even surprised why the beach is so empty.
She clears her throat before beginning. "Three years ago, I went to a small party. We got a few drinks, but it wasn't anything particularly special. Yet it's the way back home that changed everything."
And so, she tells me everything.
She tells me the most horrifying things nobody should ever experience.
She reveals how she got locked inside a car with four other men, and how a particularly deranged and inhuman Brandon Hayes started making moves on her with no consent.
We cry together.
She tells me how she wishes more than anything she'd used her voice, and legally gone up against him, seeking her justice. Instead, she had to sign a contract to keep quiet about the event and use her father's inheritance money to post bail to get out of the place.
She also tells me how she had to pay thousands of dollars for Brandon's hospital bills, even though he, a world-famous actor, could've paid it off without even batting an eye.
I didn't even know I had so many tears inside me, but when she looked at me through her hazel eyes, another ripple of sadness washed through me, and I cried some more, constantly apologizing for ever believing the articles.
When I feel like the emotional roller-coaster comes to a halt, she hits me with the story of how horribly she was treated in the jail cell. Somewhere in the middle of walking along the shoreline, we've crashed down to sit and cry our hearts out on the sand.
I thank her for trusting me to share the story with, while she keeps bawling her eyes out into my shirt. It takes some time for me to digest the pile of new information, and I finally start understanding why she is the way she is.
I get lost in my train of thought for so long, that I feel Amber's body falling limp, indicating she's fallen asleep.
I watch as a ray of sunshine peeks through the dark clouds, and radiates right onto her face. I turn my head to watch her movements.
I observe her dampened eyelashes, sunburnt cheeks, and small freckles. Every single feature of hers encaptivates courage, strength, and fortitude, which makes me appreciate her even more, though I didn't know it was possible.
She's been betrayed by so many people in her life, gone against all the odds with heavy baggage, yet managed to make it into the music industry with such ease.
I can't believe I'm so lucky to spend the rest of my life with such an incredible woman.
~~~
"See? I told you it'd clear up." Amber exclaims, pointing up at the sky.
My sight follows her gesture, noticing there're no clouds darkening the ether.
It seems to me that the weather has a tendency of matching my mood. If it'd been so overcast and breezy in the morning, it's the complete opposite now.
"Well, you said 'maybe' it'd clear up, so you weren't confident in your hypothesis." I tease her, watching as the sun slowly starts setting.
I didn't even realize we'd slept through half of the day. We walked along the shore, rested on the soft sand, and talked about useless topics for hours.
I even tried explaining the water current to her, but don't think she understood a thing I said by the way she just smiled and nodded.
In the end, we just concluded that we're just like the waves — they never truly go away, coming back stronger every time instead.
"Okay, Mr. Smart guy. You think you're so clever?" She grins, and I relish in the feeling of her being so free for a moment. "Explain to me why the sky's bluer in Malibu, then."
I'm about to say something sarcastic when a flock of birds catches the wind across the sky. They're so loud, that it's too hard to ignore. "Do you ever think about what animal you'd like to become if you ever had the chance to be one? I think I'd be a bird. They seem so free."
She chuckles at our conversation becoming nonsensical, yet responds seriously. "Sure, but a bird's life seems too... plain. I think it'd be much more interesting to explore underwater. In fact, I think I'd like to become a fish and swim away with the rest while enjoying the waves."
"Good choice. I'd even make sure you don't get all lost and lonely in the ocean." I talk nonsense, secretly loving what our conversation has led to. "Yeah?" She cocks an eyebrow, leaning into me.
"You know..." She speaks up again, moving on to another randomly perfect subject. Her sight stays glued to the sea buzzing with its feral strength. "I feel like my dad makes those waves for me. Call me crazy, but I just know it."
Her voice warms my heart a little. "Yeah? You think people come back as natural phenomena?"
"Definitely. You just have to look hard enough." She nods like it's the most obvious thing. "You see, when I was a kid, he used to bring me here every week, and we'd go surfing. It's funny how I never actually learned to do it, but he became as good as a professional."
She sighs with a bittersweet feeling, yet continues. "Now he reminds me of the waves, and there's no doubt in my mind he's in them somewhere. Or maybe I'm just too sentimental, who knows."
I'm quick to respond. "Nope. I believe you." I crack a grin at her being such a Phoebe Buffay.
There's a distinct moment containing only our eye contact before we chuckle and go back to the way we were a mere minute ago. With nothing left to say, we relax in each other's presence.
Her hands are fiddling with the orange sand, as the small grains slip right through her fingers, getting caught up in her rings.
We both look ahead at the peaceful view of the brief waves crashing against the shore. The white foam softly reaches our toes; deep oranges, cherry reds, and pale yellows play around on the pretty half-dusk, reflecting on the slow tides.
What a fucking view.
I finally turn my head to take in Amber's wavy locks flowing sweetly in the direction of the wind. The sun gives her the warmest glow, radiating alluringly on her soft features.
Peace. That's all I feel running through my veins right now.
From where I'm sitting, I can only see her lovely lashes hiding the kind hazel eyes, and the sun-left freckles scattered around her upper cheeks.
I'm finally able to enjoy the moment.
Her skin radiates varieties of yellow tones. It's like every ray of the Sun came to paint a beautiful piece of art; her skin being the canvas.
The shades are endless; dandelion-yellow, honey-yellow, fire-yellow, sunny-yellow, daffodil-yellow, sunflower-yellow, amber-yellow, even lemon-yellow — you name it.
It's all yellow.
As I said,
What a fucking view.
A piece of artwork, dare I say.
"The sun's so pretty," Amber calmly says, gazing forward. Her head rests on my shoulder comfortably, her voice flowing like a ray of golden honey.
"Yeah, it's absolutely breathtaking," I whisper, not looking at the sunset anymore.
Because at the end of the day, everything comes back to her.
She radiates light.
She makes me smile.
She lets me grow.
She gives me joy.
She sparks bliss wherever she goes.
She enlightens me.
She warms my heart.
She's heaven.
She's golden.
A complete oasis of serenity.
Just like the sun.
She's the sun.
She's the sun.
She's the sun.
She's my sun.
Amber finally moves, momentarily leaving me absent of the warmth she always has to offer.
She then rests her head on my lap, locking her eyes with mine; immediately two golden ambers pierce right into my soul. I just can't help but crack a smile at her breathtaking beauty.
God, I think I'm in love with the sun.
My golden sun.
She just looks at me with slightly furrowed brows and a smirk strong enough to make her dimples appear.
The most dumbfounded look reflects on her face, staring at me almost as if she's realizing the same things I am.
A soft smile overtakes her features before she lightly shakes her head in denial.
A warm laugh leaves her lips, breaking the delicate silence, as she's turning away to face the painted-looking sunset once again.
I love that laugh.
I love her.
Neither of us has the guts to say anything, but words aren't necessary at this moment.
She knows.
She rests her opened hand on her stomach; an invitation for me to intertwine our fingers. I accept the offer, letting a soft golden touch connect us, as our rings fit together perfectly.
We fulfill each other.
I recall the very first night I started to look at her differently; it was the one I took her to see the stars for the first time, and she told me she doesn't know what love is.
Truth is,
she is the epitome of love.
We fit.
All I ever needed is right here; I'm completely whole now.
And I don't need her yellow sunglasses to see our golden love anymore.
~~~
Amber Easton
I'm not usually a huge crier.
I'm not the kind of person that sheds tears in front of somebody, yet the events of the past week have made my morals change.
Sure, Harry's seen me cry a couple of times before, but today felt different. It's like there'd been an invisible barrier between us, and I finally took the chance to tear it down, becoming the most vulnerable in front of him I've ever been.
I think he felt it as well because ever since we sat on the sand to watch the sunset, he's been looking at me a little differently. In a good way, I suppose.
Even right now, when we're driving back home from the beach, he can't take his eyes off me.
Halfway on the drive, we stopped at this pretty odd convenience store, and Harry insisted to buy me this cream-patterned headscarf printed with chains that would make Audrey Hepburn jealous.
His reasoning behind the random buy was that the convertible makes too much breeze, and he didn't want to see me struggling to keep my hair out of my face.
Another thing that's changed since today is he didn't start a mindless argument about food choices. When I picked out a tub of strawberry ice cream, he didn't even bat an eye at the choice, even though he usually would. In fact, he encouraged sharing it.
Just as the day turns into nightfall, and the radio plays calming tunes, we drive through the smooth road of the city, completely unbothered.
Not a single worry in my mind, I gaze through the window to watch the nocturnal sky. Even though no stars are on display, one thing that takes my breath away in surprise is the full moon. It's completely orange tonight.
I want to share the discovery with Harry, but he's lost in his train of thought. A very focused look lingers on his face, as though he's thinking about something really important, so I decide against disturbing him.
I let out a sigh full of contentment, wondering how such a foolish object like the moon can bring me so much comfort.
Just like Harry.
I turn my head again to watch his careful movements, observing the way the wind rushes through his short curls. For some reason, there's a small smile on his lips that hasn't left his features for a while now.
I love him.
So much.
I never thought I could love somebody as much as I love him. Let alone, without feeling any guilt for being able to do so.
When everything in my life is so uncertain, there's no doubt in my mind that I want him forever. It's such a fortune.
To drown out the silence in the car, I turn the radio's volume higher, careful not to break the frail audio system. Just as I do so, "Yellow" by Coldplay starts ringing.
'Look at the stars, look how they shine for you
And everything you do
Yeah, they were all yellow'
For the first verse, neither of us makes a reaction to the song. The only thing giving Harry away is the way he's drumming his fingers along the beat on the steering wheel.
'I came along, I wrote a song for you
And all the things you do
And it was called "Yellow"
So then I took my turn
Oh, what a thing to have done
And it was all yellow'
For the next part of the song, I start quietly mumbling the lyrics under my breath. Ultimately, Harry joins in somewhere in the middle, now singing in a way that the lyrics become audible.
For a moment, we look at each other and just let out a loop of laughter. My stomach flips over again.
I love him.
I love him.
I love him.
'Your skin, oh, yeah, your skin and bones
Turn into something beautiful'
Now totally belting out the lyrics, and grinning like fools while attempting to gesture our hands to complete our full performance, this feels better than any Carpool Karaoke ever made.
The next part is a little tricky. It seems like both of us know what's coming, so we turn quiet immediately, each turning away to look at their side window, gazing at nothing particular.
'You know,
You know I love you so...'
I know it shouldn't be such a big deal, but we just made it one. It's scary to admit such an important thing, so I don't dare to move my lips.
I try to steal a glance his way, but he's already staring at me with the deepest look he could ever muster, his eyes narrowed in thought.
"You know I love you so"
He suddenly mouths the lyrics to me, and for a moment I think I'm hallucinating.
For a moment, I wonder if my senses have all mixed up, and I'm just imagining the movements because no actual sound came past his lips.
But he notices my confusion, and I watch as his lips twitch into a smile, containing a bit of trepidation in the corners. His smile brings instant warmth to my heart.
"I love you, Am." He whispers in between the chorus and the verse.
It suddenly feels like the whole world and time have frozen. It takes me a few seconds to realize we've actually stopped at a red light.
The countdown lets out small beeps, displaying a minute to wait.
My eyes are glued entirely on his deep-green ones now, and I'm searching for every trace of truthfulness or deception. His irises display nothing but comfort and serenity. It's like he'd be okay if I didn't return the feeling.
"With your whole heart?" The corners of my mouth tug up, but I need to make sure he's absolutely honest.
"Definitely with my whole heart." He points to the middle of his chest, nodding in approval. "No question. No doubts. Just my heart."
"Yeah?" I crack the biggest grin I could ever show. "I love you, Harry. My whole heart and soul aren't enough, though."
My sentence brings relief to his body, as he lets out a sigh of contentment.
"I wish you knew how crazy I am about you." He runs a hand through his hair, his cheeks getting pinker and pinker. "Now kiss me, please."
I teasingly wait for a few seconds to pass, and chuckle a little while losing my hands in his chestnut curls.
The stirring beat of the song drops. I crash my lips against his.
It's like our first kiss on the boat all over again.
Even though there hasn't been any candy on either of our tongues, I still somehow taste the sentimental cherry flavor.
This is the kind of kiss that creates a pit in your stomach for a moment or two, before letting the sweet connection release butterflies right there.
I feel Harry's hand trying to find my curls, but the headscarf ruins his desire. It only takes a fraction of a second before his fingers have untied the knot, letting my hair jut all over the place.
In my rear vision, I notice the lights turning from red to green. Orange. Red again. Repeat.
We take each other's breath away for what feels like a perfectly long eternity before a random BMW starts honking at us exasperatedly.
We unwillingly pull back from each other, a spark of lust and love reflecting in the other's irises.
He loves me back.
Harry curses under his breath at the random driver behind us, stomping his foot on the pedal, and turning the radio the loudest it can, letting the last seconds of the tune ring out.
"I think this is my all-time favorite song now."
***
I'm emotional.