It had been five days since I'd left Harry at Wembley.
Five days since I'd heard from him.
Five days of radio silence.
The old Evie would have completely crumbled. I would have holed myself away at home, cut off everyone and ran towards habits that didn't serve me positively. But I didn't.
If I'm honest, I expected more from Harry. He had witnessed a change in myself that saw me raise the bar on what I would and wouldn't accept. I just couldn't fathom that he, of all people, would fall short of it.
So, with each passing day that he hadn't reached out, I started going through a strange cycle of grief that had me alternating between self-loathing, sadness and viscous anger. But the one overarching emotion that was consistent was a feeling of heavy disappointment.
For years I'd carefully crafted and built walls around myself for this very reason. I could live with disappointing myself. My self-sabotaging meant I was still in control.
But letting someone in and then getting disappointed by them - that was something I struggled to live with. It was something I never wanted to run the risk of. It had me thinking that maybe it wasn't my anxiety screaming at me all along, and it was in fact, my intuition. I should have listened to it.
While I couldn't control the narrative that he seemed to paint up in a mind that I was once in awe of, I could control how I let it affect me; and so, I just got stuck into work.
My single was dropping in just under a week and with good progress made so far, I'd taken a break from my own recording to reset, instead booking a rehearsal space at Trident to try and work on the bank of songs I'd planned to hand over to Sony as part of the publishing deal.
"I fucking hate him today" I groaned towards my phone that sat on loud speaker from the floor before me. An acoustic guitar rested on my crossed legs as I sat on the floor with a pen and notepad beside me.
My fingers twisted a tuning key just slightly, my other hand plucking at a string while I had one ear on the pitch and the other on Annie, who chuckled sympathetically on the other end. "Just today? You said the same thing two days ago."
"Yesterday I was just sad and hating on myself" I clarified. "But today, I hate him."
"Hate's a pretty strong word, Eve" Annie sighed.
"Yeah, well he deserves it" I groaned. "So were a lot of the words he used on me, so I think it's warranted."
"I guess that's fair" she offered. "I'm so sorry Eve. If it means anything, you're doing so much better than I was expecting."
"It doesn't, but thanks" I deadpanned back. I didn't mean to be a stroppy cow, but I was well and truly in the trenches.
"What will you do if he does reach out?"
My lips pursed as I thought about but drew blanks. "I really don't know. What would you do?"
"Castrate him, maybe" she laughed. "I can do that for you, if you want."
"Tempting" I muttered, running my fingers back through my long, unwashed hair.
Unfortunately though, as much as I did want to truly, truly hate him, I couldn't. And that was what hurt the most.
"Are you still gonna go out tonight to that thing?" Annie asked, recalling vague plans I'd made with my London friends.
"I don't know" I sighed. The thought of having to wash my hair and put on a smile made me wanna pull out my hair.
"You should" she urged, surprisingly. "As long as you don't overdo it. I just don't want you to cut yourself off from the world, babe."
"I know, I know." My response was an automatic and exhausted utterance. Her advice to get out followed by a subtle warning was advice I'd heard many a time.
"I should be there with you" she sighed regretfully. "It's not fair. None of it. You of all people don't deserve the things he said, Eve."
I laughed dryly by way of a short puff of air out my nose as I shook my head. "Maybe I do."
And we're back to self-loathing.
My plans to focus on publishing stuff was terribly timed. No matter how hard I tried to shake what was going on in my head, it was bleeding into the music too easily.
Staring numbly at the acoustic padded wall of the large, cold rehearsal hall, my fingers found comfortable chords and my other hand strummed quietly a pattern over and over.
If I was to pinpoint what was bothering me the most here, it was how easily Harry had given up. And it made me feel worthless.
Our entire, short relationship saw him do much of the chasing. All of my hesitations were met with an answer, a resolution, a tenacity and perseverance.
Every wall I'd put up, he took the time to pull down. Brick by emotional brick.
I'd made a mistake, sure. But in the grand scheme of things, it didn't warrant total abandon. He had pursued me with such a hunger then.
And as I felt completely numb, staring out blankly into the abyss while I mumbled along a melody, I felt an emptiness I hadn't felt in a while.
We had a hunger then...only each other then
The highs were so high. Genuinely the happiest I've ever been. He'd given me a taste of that and as soon as I'd willingly grasped it with both hands, he too easily took it away.
Couldn't get enough when we started...always a hunger then
And now I was empty. The walls I'd put up around me had been established for a reason - I needed to remember that and heal. I didn't deserve something all consuming, and that was ok. Some people do the cushy, gentle love. Maybe I was just destined for the 'drama' I was used to. At least then I knew where things would inevitably end up. I'd have some sort of control.
Now it's just emptiness...we were in love...we were starving...we had a hunger then
Feeling like I'd given all I could to my creative endeavours for the day, I jot down the chords I'd been playing and the stupid lyrics I'd been mumbling. I hummed along as my pen scratched the lined paper of the notepad. Maybe it'd turn into a song that meant something to someone and from these trenches something beautiful could grow.
That's what I loved about music. And this is exactly why I was going to focus on just that.
With guitar case in tow, I stepped back into my checkered vans sneakers that sat by the door and made way to store my stuff back in the locker in the studio.
It was half past six and I'd promised Remi and Aisha I'd meet them for a drink at a fancy jazz bar sometime after eight. Remi was sweet on one of the bartenders who she'd come across on some dating app, and so they'd invited her along with some friends for a few free cocktails. I wasn't jumping out of my seat at the invite but as Annie had told me, getting out was better than sitting in my flat alone.
The studio was quiet tonight. Usually the wooden panelled hallway would be vibrating with the sounds of the worker bees buzzing about the musical hive, but tonight it wasn't.
Retrieving my keys from the pocket of my low-hung blue jeans, I let my shoulder push against the door and open it up into the threshold of studio 3.
But it was in use.
"Fuck, sorry" I rushed, finding an unfamiliar face sat behind the desk. I dropped the guitar case down and took a step back, re-reading the signage in the doorway.
"You're right love" the stranger assured. It was indeed studio 3. "Y'hadn't booked it, we assumed it was free. We're pretty much done though."
"Yeah, no, no you're right" I smiled tightly, picking up the black guitar hard-case . "I just need to stow this away."
"Go forth" he smiled, with a welcoming hand wave. "We've a leak in five, but needed to get these bastard vocals down."
"No stress" I hurried, feeling somewhat of an inconvenience as I stepped quickly behind the desk towards a locker in the far corner while the guy continued to work.
"That's sounding good mate, are we cool with that?"
A second voice, presumably coming from the adjoined isolated room then spoke up and sounding familiar, it piqued my curiosity.
"Yeah man, we're done."
Hidden beside the locker, I angled my body away from it slightly to get a look behind the thick glass separating the two spaces.
Bottle of red wine pressed directly to his lips, there stood Theodore. Or Alex. Whatever the fuck he preferred, I'd honestly forgotten.
I'd never noticed how tall and lanky he was. It might have been the belted black jeans that hung high on his waist or the horizontal stripes on his long sleeved cotton T-shirt. Despite the black and white get-up, I saw only a red flag and it was time for me to sneak out unseen.
With haste, I pressed my small key into the lock. It clicked in easily but when it didn't turn comfortably, I pulled it back out to try again. Dropping my large bunch of keys on a single ring in the process, they hit the hardwood floor in a jarring crash causing both eyes to dart to me instantly.
"It's been a little while, sparky."
With a crimson flush at my bare face, I looked over my shoulder to see him leant up against the door frame between the two adjoined rooms, bottle of wine hanging from his hand down his side.
Get out, Evie.
"Been in hiding" I shrugged with a flat-lined grin. I let the tote bag over my shoulder fall to the crook of my elbow and I placed it down on the floor to my right.
"A wise move" he commended, stepping into the main-room slowly.
"Is that so?" My brow raised, keys back in my grasp.
"You can head off, Jack. I'll listen back now and note the good'ns" he then said, ignoring my question.
I shook my head subtly and returned to the task at hand, sliding the small key back into the lock silently willing it to turn.
Turn, you fucker.
I fussed with it for a few moments before I felt a body towering over me from behind. The warm overhead lights of the studio saw a shadow cast over the faded teal of the vintage metal locker.
The first thing I smelt was faint remnants of tobacco masked by a spicy cologne and an overwhelming stench of cinnamon. It was very particular.
The first thing I then heard was the vexatious sound of gum being chewed between the back of his teeth, followed by a jarring bang.
I jumped as a palm swiftly hit the side of the locker, causing the key I was trying to turn anti-clockwise to finally turn smoothly.
"There's a trick to it" he then murmured, still standing unnervingly close behind me.
My shoulders bunched in towards my body as I tried to step back and open the now unlocked door. Taking the hint, he took a step back but not far enough away. His arm extended forward and he lent against the frame of the locker, leaning over me.
"Thanks" I muttered, retrieving the guitar case I had standing up against my side. I slid it into the locker up-right and closed the door quickly, turning the key to lock it.
"Evie, you can't grace me with your presence and fuck off immediately" he mused as I ducked under his extended arm to shuffle out of the sandwich I was stuck between.
"Yes I can" I bit back, slinging my tote bag back over my shoulder.
"Y'know it's rude to barge into someone's studio like that." He turned on his heels, leaning up against the locker with arms crossing his chest.
"My studio" I corrected.
"Didn't see your name on the door" he smirked.
"Nor was yours." My eyes narrowed. He was too good at getting under my skin and I couldn't understand why.
He pressed off the locker and moved to the leather couch on the back wall of the studio, retrieving his bottle of wine as he uttered "touché."
I watched him intently as he sat back on the sofa, crossing one long leg over the other. He ran his hand back through his black curls that were peppered with the odd white hair. I wondered how old he was.
With a twitching smile, he looked back at me. "I thought you were leaving?"
"I am" I quickly imparted, realising I'd been staring.
"Well seeing as you're clearly not" he continued, standing back up and thrusting the bottle of wine against my chest. "The least you can do is listen to something for me and tell me if it's off."
I guess I had nowhere to be.
I placed his wine backdown on the desk between the sound desk and sofa, pulling out the leather chair on wheels that sat behind it.
"I don't have germs" he commented, looking over his shoulder towards the wine I'd abandoned. He lent over the sound desk, navigating the mouse on screen with his right hand.
With a soft sigh, I wheeled over to the desk and took the bottle, taking a few large mouthfuls of the Shiraz.
He remained unusually quiet as he turned the main volume dial. A bright guitar riff sounded through the surround speakers in the studio. With the wine in my lap, I sat back into the chair that reclined slightly as I did.
Fairest of them all
Oh why'd we have to fall
My eyes looked up at the ceiling as I listened. The vocals weaved around a prominent baseline in a relaxed cadence that matched the simple drums and steady beat.
I'm the youngest of six sons
You've got seven of them at your every beck and call
In my peripherals, I saw him leant up against the edge of the desk, tugging his bottom lip between two fingers. His eyes would alternate between staring at the floor and glancing towards me.
"It's really good" the empath in me piped up, sensing some vulnerability. A vulnerability I'd yet to see from him. And I meant it. It was a fucking good song. He shot me a short smile.
They call me brother grim
Like a serpent, looking for my next Eve
My eyes widened and shoulders tensed. A drum roll separated the verses from the impending chorus.
Why'd you have to go, oh
Black hair, skin as white as gold, oh
My girl and her white snow
I twisted the chair left and right nervously as the song continued to play out with the repeating guitar riff backed by the incessant drum beat and bass line.
In the garden, in her eyes she has me believe
That this love and our youth is the key to immortality
It's your beauty that awakened you
Now I'm breathless, he's taking yours from you
And I'm dateless, sitting in our old room
The instrumentation was relatively minimalistic which allowed for the focus to be on the melody and lyrics. And I couldn't lie, I liked his writing style. It was clever.
The song eventually came to a faded out conclusion. Alex looked to me expectingly.
"It's good." My words fell out like I'd been holding a breath. "Really good."
"You're hard to read, y'know that?" He stepped across the distance between us, taking back his bottle of red wine.
"To some" I offered casually.
"So tell me your story, Evie" he requested as he sat back down on the couch. "Who are you?"
I span my chair in his direction to find a cigarette balanced between his lips as he spoke. He bought a lighter - my little red lighter, I assumed - to his face to light it.
"Someone who returns things to people once they've borrowed them" I bit back, eyeing the lighter.
"You're fiery" he chuckled, pointing at me. He inhaled a second, sharp intake of air as the cigarette balanced between his fingers. He then blew the smoke out into the air of the studio, the warm overhead lights catching it.
"I'm the youngest of six" he then told me. "Never was good at sharing."
I let out a short, displeased laugh. "I don't think it's up to you to decide that should be shared."
"I'm a mummy's boy, too" he offered, completely ignoring the direction I thought the conversation was going.
"Is that so?" I muttered, trying to maintain an air of disinterest, although there was something about him that had me curious as the cat.
"Why do you think I've ended up here?" He gestured splayed arms around at the studio we sat in before returning the cigarette to his lips. "Busy parents with too much money and a kid with no aim or ambition outside of music."
"So what you're saying is you're a nepo baby" I spoke slowly with narrowed eyes trying to make some sense. He spoke in dumb fucking riddles.
"Aren't you?" He then chuckled, leaning forward with elbows rested on his knee.
I sucked on my teeth, nodding slowly as I absorbed the fact that he must have realised exactly who I was. "Been emancipated" I told him.
He looked amused as he ashed his cigarette into a black coffee mug on the side table."Would you like to go get a drink, Evie?"
Absolutely not.
"Is that not we're doing right now?"
"You're hardly drinking, babe" he shot back.
"You've hardly offered" I smiled without an ounce of warmth.
His lips twitched into a smile as he stood. I was like a little wild ginger rabbit and he was a dark fox, the way he slowly walked towards me.
His hand pressed into one of the two arms at either side of my chair as the other placed the bottle of wine down on the desk with a dull thud that saw my breath hitch in my throat. His freehand then gripped at my chin, tugging it down with his thumb.
All I could smell was the cinnamon gum.
I hated cinnamon.
I felt somewhat frozen with apprehension but at the same time, it was the first moment in five days I'd forgotten about everything. He parted his own lips dramatically, silently willing me to do the same.
As my own lips parted, he retrieved the bottle of wine, hovering it above my face.
The second the deep red liquid poured into my open mouth and splashed down my chin, I had flashbacks to a happier time.
Cooking with Harry. Dancing to the Rolling Stones. A movie on the couch.
I could do this. It would be fun. A distraction.
But what if Harry calls tomorrow?
I had to get out of there.
My palm pressed to his chest, pushing him away and he relented instantly, reading my hesitation.
"I have to go" I stammered with an awkward laugh, wheeling back further in my chair. "I have to go meet some friends."
The back of my wrist wiped the spilled wine from my chin as I grabbed my bag and headed for the heavy studio door.
"Will I see you again?"
Holding the door open with one hand, I turned to look at him sat back on the edge of the sound desk.
"Goodbye, Theodore" I told him, ignoring his query.
"It's Alex" he smirked, bringing the wine back up to his lips.
He was perplexing and infuriating.
With a very quiet laugh, I shook my head subtly. "Whatever, Theo" I mumbled over my shoulder as I left the studio headed for the exit.
As the bitter, cool outdoor air hit my bare arms I took a deep breath in like I'd been oxygen deprived.
It had been five days since I'd heard from Harry and I hoped so desperately for his sake, and mine, I'd hear from him on the sixth.
A/N: sooooo are we all still emotionally unstable??