A/N: Sorry it took so long guys!D:
The picture on the side is just of One Direction with a random fan, but she looks like how I imagined Delia. So I'm going to pretend it's actually her, and I hope you will all fake this with me.
Oh, and a great song to go with this chapter is Grade 8 by Ed Sheeran.
Chapter 17
*Delia’s P.O.V.*
“Just go get the camera and run away,” Liam whispered into my ear and pointed to the girl leaning far over the barrier. Security kept pushing her back, but she was determined to get a good video of us.
I nodded to Liam as he went behind the security man nearest us and tapped his shoulder, distracting him enough so I could hop down, grab the video camera from the girl, and turn back around. Liam helped me back onto stage and we motioned to the girl that we would give it back. I recorded Liam singing, then, ran off to the drums to get Josh banging away. Niall hopped in front of the camera, pulling a silly face, and motioned for me to follow him. He led me to Harry, who gave a huge smile to the camera as he sang, and gave a thumb up. Louis and Zayn stood side-by-side, which was perfect as I caught their voices singing in perfect harmony for the owner of the camera.
I filmed the audience jumping up and down to the beat, and was about to return the camera when it was ripped from my hands. Harry jumped in front of me and told me to smile, so I stuck my tongue out and crossed my eyes. Harry laughed and followed me as I walked back over to the girl, who was tears now.
“Oh, don’t cry,” I told her as I reached forward to give back her device. “Here’s your camera.”
“Thank you so much!” she yelled through her tears. I smiled as I walked back to my mic stand and joined the chorus.
After a few concerts, I had grown used to the lights, noise, and thousands of people. Not that it was something you could really accept, but since I knew all these people were here for the boys of One Direction, all I had to do was get over any stage fright. Since I had never been afraid to speak in front of a crowd, and had been in a few plays as a child, I was alright with being the center of attention. As long as I did not truly think that all these people were here to see me, then, I was good to perform for them like it was just an incredibly fun job.
I detached my microphone and started walking behind the boys to get to the guitarist, but just as I passed behind Louis a flying object came whirling towards him. He saw it in time to jump out of the way, and it instead hit me. Louis burst out laughing as he picked up the bra and showed it to me. I gaped, and took it from his hands, walking towards the front of the stage.
I said into the mic, “No more.” and threw the object back into the crowd. Everyone began screaming and waving in front of me. It took me a second before I realized they were doing it because I had gotten so close to the edge. I hesitantly waved and watched as a tall, lanky boy pushed his way to the front and started screaming for my attention. He had pushed away several innocent girls, so I started motioning to security to help them. Once the boy had gotten back in his place, and the girls were helped up, I returned to my mic stand. Liam gave me a nod of respect when I passed him, and we did our signature handshake we had made up over lunch.
During rehearsal yesterday, I had been practicing with Zayn’s solo in Moments. He had heard and told me if I wanted to one concert, he would let me sing it. I had refused, but now, as the solo neared, I glanced over at Zayn to see him pointing at me, and waving empty hands. Someone had stolen his microphone, and since Liam and Niall were running away to the drum set, I guessed they were the criminals. I sighed as Harry walked up to me with a water bottle, allowing me to get a sip before I sang.
“Flashing lights in my mind,
Going back to the time,
Playing games in the street,
Kicking balls with my feet
There’s a numb in my toes standing close to the edge
There’s a part of my clothes at the end of your bed
As I feel myself fall, make a joke of it all.”
Zayn appeared next to me, and started to pet my head like I was child he had taught well. In return I lightly slapped his face, and his petted his cheek before walking away.
Things really began to get interesting during the song Rock Me. When the beat started up, we began to clap, along with the audience, too, but little did I notice Harry nearing me with every clap. So when he began singing, it was right in my ear. I jumped back, and tried to step away, but he only followed me, and smirked while he sang. Louis must have gotten the memo, because he began to sing behind me when his part started up. By the time the chorus came, I could not even sing because all five had gathered around me. I now knew how women interviewers felt when having to be alone with the band, who worked as a team, and were quite tall.
I was aware that it was probably every girl’s dream to have One Direction sing Rock Me to them, but all I felt as I was chased round the stage by the gang, was annoyance and a twinge of fear. When I reached the end of the stage I had nowhere to go, so I dropped down into the fetal position. The boys laughed as they huddled around me and literally sang into my ears. When the song was over, I stood up with dignity, brushed myself off, and stomped over to my spot. I remained there, ignoring all of them, for the next two songs.
As much as I argued with them, and the amount of times they got on my nerves, those five really had found a place in my heart. They were idiots, and I sometimes wanted to kill them, but I would never tell the world that I was forced into One Direction. That would give everyone the idea that I did not love them, but I did, even the lead idiot, Louis.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
~Four days Later~
*Niall’s P.O.V.*
Delia reached out to clasp my hand as we shoved through the crowd. It had become a regular thing for her to do, so I did not hesitate to grip her hand tightly. It was soothing in a way, knowing that I had a friend, or at the least a band mate, at my side while we pushed through the girls and boys. It was weird to have so many boys outside waiting on us, since for the past three years it had been all girls. Delia had brought in her own fan base over the past two, almost three weeks, and while the majority were girls who thought of her as an idol, a good portion were boys. Dealing with so many straight guys was a little out of the comfort zone for One Direction, so seeing so many in the crowd outside of the radio station made me clutch Delia’s hand a little harder.
Once inside the BBC station, Delia began to swing our hands together as she looked around, trying to calm her nervousness. We were back in London now for another performance in the O2 Arena, then after a few more shows, we would have a two week break before the European Tour. As soon as we stepped off the plane this morning, the woman we all loved to mock told Delia she had been asked to talk on the Radio with Nick Grimshaw. She had been honored, but just a few minutes after she had accepted she freaked and told us that if someone did not go on with her she would go into panic attack mode again. Since none of us wanted that, we told her we would work it out. I got the short straw, figuratively.
Liam was on a date with Danielle. Harry was out with some of his countless friends. Zayn was busy with something. And Louis… well Louis would rather strangle himself. So here I was, accompanying Delia for her personal interview, wondering if Nick would hate that I was not his friend, Harry.
A half hour later, we both sat behind mics, and Nick was across from us, listening for his signal to begin. He had just sat down, so he was waiting to introduce himself to Delia for the first time over live air. When Nick gave me a cheerful smile, I was instantly relieved that he was not bugged. I was, in my own defense, dragged here by Delia, who looked on the verge of hyperventilating.
“Calm down,” I told her, trying to hold back a laugh.
“Don’t laugh at me.” she shot back. I guess I was not as good at holding it back as I thought.
Nick cleared his throat and turned to us, “Alright so this is Grimmy, live on BBC Radio 1, and I am here with Delia Stanford and Niall Horan from One Direction!”
“Nice to see you again, mate.” I greeted.
“Always a pleasure.” He nodded at me. “And it’s nice to finally meet you, Delia. I’ve heard many things about you. All horrible, of course, but maybe we can change.”
“Eh,” Delia scrunched her nose up adorably. “They’re probably all true.”
Nick laughed, and I could tell he instantly liked her. Big surprise there. The only people in history who appeared not to like Delia within the first few seconds of meeting her were my friends and I. We had our reasons, though. Yet, despite that, her charm was still breaking through to us. She had won over Liam, and now it was obvious that the rest of us were slowly starting to like her also. Liam had been pushing it hard, too. After that night I got piss drunk in the hotel, Liam had been talking her up to all of us in private. It was like he was a salesman trying to convince us the product was buyable.
“So,” Nick began. “What’s it like working with these bunch of idiots?”
Instead of agreeing, Delia said, “They’re more like friends, than idiots. I really enjoy being able to see them every day, which is good, because I don’t really have another option. It’s been a lot of hard work with learning the songs and everything, but I can always rely on them for help or just a laugh. I couldn’t ask for a better bunch of idiots to work with.”
Everyone in the studio sighed and begun clapping, while I threw my arms around Delia in the classic sloth hug, where I just clung on. She tried shoving me off, but after several futile attempts, Nick decided to continue.
“But aren’t there days where you just want to kill them?” Nick asked, and I felt Delia tense. “I know the boys are all like brothers, but come on. You’re the only girl and you just met. You’ve told other interviewers that you all get along, but you can be honest with me. Is it really all rainbows and gumdrops everyday with One Direction?”
Slowly, I slid my arms away, and watched Delia’s features. She stayed perfectly calm, and not an inch of her face, showed any signs of hesitancy or fear. Her right knee kept bouncing, though, and she fiddled with her fingers before answering, “Nothing is perfect anywhere and we aren’t special. We run into issues from day to day, but never with each other. We have to stay a team if we are going to deal with everything that comes up from time to time. Being in a band isn’t easy, but luckily we don’t have problems with each other to deal with.”
“So you all just get along, Niall?” Nick said. I had just discovered that Delia could roll off any question with a lie easily, but by the frown that slipped on her face as soon as Nick looked away, I could tell she hated it.
“We’re like a family.” I replied, and smiled. “The six of us are the children, who get into messes, and everyone else we work with has to clean up behind us. It wouldn’t be half as much fun if we didn’t work together as a team to get in trouble.”
Delia giggled, “I have never heard a truer statement.”
Nick grinned, since he was obviously not getting any information out of us. He may be one of the only people that think we are lying, aside from those two interviewers, Paul, Simon, and all of management. The rest of the world believes every word. I wonder if Harry had told Nick anything. I would have to talk to him later about it.
“Alright, Delia.” Nick said. “I wanted for it to just be you today, but maybe we can get Niall to leave the room for a second? I wanted to ask you a few questions you may not want to answer in front of him.”
“No!” Delia said immediately. “He can’t leave. I can answer truthfully in front of him.”
I shrugged, so Nick did so also and said, “Well, Delia, you know that there are millions of girls across the world that wish they had the opportunity you do. They all want some real dirt on the One Direction boys that they would never spill about each other. Now that they have a girl on the inside, I wanted to ask you some questions about each of the boys.”
“Oh no,” I muttered jokingly, and everyone in the studio laughed.
“Oh no is right,” Delia said, and winked, although the radio could not record that of course.
“First question, love.” Nick grinned deviously and I got nervous. “You’ve seen the boys when they haven’t been in full make-up and just got out of bed. You’ve seen them up close and personal. So are they really all beauty and hotness 24/7 or is it just for the cameras?”
I glanced down at Delia, waiting for her response. I tried not to look nervous, but I was a little self-conscious about my looks, and although I tried to act like I did not care, I actually did. Delia smiled, “They’re normal people. Just like me, they don’t look perfect in the morning. I know I sure don’t, yet they are kind enough to ignore my bedhead. Sometimes they don’t look their best, but they never look bad. They always look beautiful to me. Unl”
The whole studio laughed again, and Nick only shook his head, “Ok, let’s move on then. Who sings the most? Since they are singers I would guess they do it a lot, so who does the most, and who would you say is the best at just carefree singing?”
Delia thought for a few moments, the blush on her cheeks from the previous question starting to fade. “I would say that either Niall or Zayn sing the most, like when a song comes on the radio those two are always singing along. And when Niall gets a song stuck in his head he sings it for days. But I can’t even begin to decide who is the best singer. I’ve heard them all practicing, and they all are so amazing. I love their voices a lot. So I can’t choose.”
Nick nodded, “I understand. The boys’ voices are all different from each other, but equally good.” Delia looked over at me and smiled, so I did the same. “But as talented as they are, they’re still boys. Are they really messy? Gross? Disgusting?”
Delia sighed playfully, “It’s horrible, Nick. They leave their stuff everywhere, and somehow it spreads into my room even. When it’s time to pack they rush around the suite like a bunch of wild animals to collect their things. They are very dysfunctional people.”
Nick laughed, along with several other people in the studio, while I just scowled. “That isn’t even fair!” I said, causing more people to guffaw. “She’s no better. When she’s tired she doesn’t even bother to put things away. She just walks through the front door and starts dropping everything. There will be a trail of her bags, jackets, and clothes leading to her bedroom door. And I never fail to trip over all of it.”
Delia shrugged, not embarrassed in the least. “I can’t be bothered sometimes.”
Nick, the kiss-up, said, “Well, Delia, you work so hard every day you must just be dead tired when you reach the room. Maybe you should have the boys carry you up from now on?” He was joking, but I snorted and rolled my eyes.
“I’ve actually fallen asleep in the van before, and they’ve carried me up to bed.” Delia said, trying to work in a compliment somewhere. “They really are such sweet people. Their moms did a great job raising them.”
Delia got another round of sighs and aweing from everyone, while I just tried to cover up my red face. We had all taken a turn carrying her up to her room those times she fell asleep from a hard day in the studio, so I knew that her light body was no trouble. She was not built like the skinny people you see who walk around with major thigh gaps and bony arms and you wonder if they are anorexic. Delia was average sized, and I think that was what made a lot of girls look up to her. She was not shaped like a model, but she was not looking to change either, and that was a trait guys appreciated.
“It was no problem.” I said, and shrugged.
The interview continued for a good half hour, with Nick asking her personal questions about us. I felt like he was trying to make it a little awkward with me in the room, but Delia’s answers were perfect. She never gave out any actual personal information, and instead turned the questions around where she was complimenting us and saying how we acted in public was how we really were in public. I could tell she had picked up that answering technique from watching us during interviews. Although we all had enough dirt to bury each other, we never really gave any of it out. As a band, we had to have each others’ back, and while we sometimes made fun on interviews and such, you always wanted to be kind for the sake of your band mate. Delia understood that perfectly as she answered each question, and I knew if the other boys were listening in they would be very thankful that she was talking us up so well.
This technique was something I had only recently learned. I trust easily, therefore forget who I can share things with and who I cannot. It had gotten me in trouble before, but the day I released something major still haunted my mind. Liam had found out about it, and then told Zayn. Both boys had been very untrusting with me lately, and I could tell. I should have kept my mouth shut, I knew, but it was a mistake. I wished that I could go back in time to that day almost three years ago and slap myself before I decided to go to that bar. The bar where a devious reporter sat waiting for an innocent kid like me to walk in and spill secrets about his best friends.
Louis had messed up once, when he told that interviewer, Daniel, about our situation with Delia, and he had learned his lesson. I, however, was still receiving the repercussions from my mistake, and would continue to pay for it until I got my friends’ trust back. It was a small price compared to the risk I would have to take if that reporter spilled anything more. She had a blackmail piece easily in her claws, and the second she came back for me, I would be between a rock and a hard place. Let the woman break me, do what she wants, and have the hope she would never reveal anything, or betray my friends’ trust, have Liam and Zayn tell the whole band, and know that the boys who have become my brothers will never look at me the same way again.
“Niall?” Delia touched my hand and I jerked back to attention. “Are you alright?” I looked around and realized that Nick had turned away and the interview was now over. Hopefully, it had not been obvious that I had zoned out while Delia answered the questions, but it seemed not to be bothering anyone, as she was the only looking at me.
I smiled uneasily and stood to shake everyone’s hand. I chatted with all of the people who worked there for a while, since I had met them before, and I was honestly just a social butterfly. Once Delia and I finished our goodbyes I took her hand as we prepared to face the crowd outside. Delia was looking quite pleased with how the interview went, and although I tried to keep up a conversation with her, my mind was elsewhere.
I had to somehow make sure the rest of the lads never found out about my secret. And make sure that woman never came back. She had a full hand to play against me, and all my chips were on the table. I was so close to losing, but I just needed to keep up my poker face.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Delia’s P.O.V.*
It had been five days after Harry first came into my bedroom in the middle of the night, asking that awkward question. Since then, it had become less awkward. At midnight, when everyone else had already fallen asleep, he would open the door and find me with my laptop open, waiting for him. Sometimes we would be too tired to do anything but fall asleep next to each other, but other nights he would wrap his arms around me and start up a conversation. We would talk about what happened that day, even though we were with each other the entire time, or about random things, such as music, movies, other people. He asked a lot of questions about me and where I lived, and what kind of things I liked to do. I always answered honestly, and asked questions about him in return.
During the day, we barely got to really talk alone, since we were always busy, but at night it was just us, and I got to learn about the real Harry Styles, the one with a weird sense of a humor, and an agonizingly slow way of talking. He could make something interesting sound boring, but I still loved it. I somehow understood what he meant even when he was not doing well at communicating his point. That was how I knew he was my friend. I could actually understand the Cheshire boy and his off-track mind.
This night, Harry and I leaned against my headboard, a bowl of popcorn between us, as we stared at the tv. It was not on, though, as it was just a place to look at as we talked. I had given Harry the key to my room, since we were not in a suite together this time, and he had come in around midnight, after everyone was fast asleep. Instead of going to sleep, though, Harry had told me he would rather stay up and talk. I had been tired when I agreed, just to please him, but now thanks to the Redbull in my hand I doubt I would be going to sleep at all.
“Thanks for staying up with me, tonight.” He said after a few minutes of listening to Lifehouse play on my phone.
“No problem, Harry.” I replied. “But why did you want to again?”
He shrugged and looked down in his lap, playing with the strands of his pajama pants. “I just have a lot of things on my mind. I need to think about them, but on the other hand I don’t want to.”
“Maybe once you figure those things out, then they won’t fill your mind anymore.” I said, motioning him to open his mouth so I could toss more popcorn in. We had become pros at the process.
“You’re right.” He told me after swallowing. “But I don’t know how to figure them out. It’s a lot more complicated than just coming to a conclusion in my mind.”
“Maybe you should talk them out with someone then. If you can’t figure it out, someone should be able to.”
He turned to me, anger in his eyes as he said loudly, “Are you saying I should see a psychiatrist?’
“I’m not saying you need that kind of help, Harry.” I said, calmly to counteract his anger. “I was saying that you should talk to a friend, or someone you trust about these things. They keep you up at night, and are obviously affecting you.”
“Can’t I just talk to you?” he asked a little desperately, almost pleading.
“You can tell me anything, Harry.” I said. I placed my hand on his arm, and gave him a tiny smile. “I want to help you in any way that I can.” It was true. I saw the turmoil in Harry’s eyes every time he was alone with me. The second that he was with me, and just me, I was able to watch as his walls came crumbling down, and everything hidden in his eyes before were free to see. His green irises were etched with pain, and sadness, confusion and brokenness. It hurt to look at, but to look away would be to ignore what he was trying to show me. He needed something to fix him, and I would search the world to help him find it.
“Thank you.” He said, and I could tell he meant it. “For everything. For helping me sleep, and smiling at me whenever you meet my eyes, and saying stupid things to make me laugh, and just sitting here beside me. It’s more than I could ask for.”
“Well, I don’t see how it’s really helpful at all, but you’re welcome.” I laughed, and Harry told me to open my mouth. I expected him to toss in a piece of popcorn, but instead felt my face pelted with an entire handful. I giggled as I said, “You still didn’t get any in.”
Harry pouted, “You moved. I can’t get it in if you start moving.”
“No, your aim just sucks.”
“Shut up.” He commanded, attempting to look scary, but I just continued to laugh at him. Harry was the least intimidating creature on the entire planet, as he was just too adorable. I had seen him angry before, and yes, it was intimidating, especially when it was aimed at me, but there was the undeniable truth that Harry would never hurt anyone, despite how far his emotions could push him. When I was angry, I knew nothing else but the cause of it and focused only on that feeling, but Harry was able to take that anger and talk himself out of it. He could reason motives, forgive, and turn away all in the high of his madness. That was a kind of maturity that I had yet to develop, but was amazed to see it within Harry. It was another one of those things that made him truly inspiring to be around.
Harry laughed with me, until my hand fell down to his wrist and he glanced at the bracelets there. All fifteen stood out brightly against his creamy skin. I noticed the way Harry’s eyes seemed to darken just looking at them, and a frown held his lips.
In a flash of movement too quick for Harry to prevent, I had yanked six of the bracelets down his wrist. It took more effort to slide them over his huge hand, but I managed and leapt away before he could get them back.
“You always get sad when you look at these,” I said, as he just gaped at me. “I want to wear them so maybe I won’t have to see you so sad.” I pulled them all on, and admired each one. From an armband etched with the name of a nightclub to a braided one made of string. Once I had them all situated on one arm, I reached out and took the other nine off Harry’s other wrist, this time with more ease. He just stared at me as I walked across the room, trying to get used to wearing so much jewelry.
As I circled the room, I turned my back for a few seconds. When I turned back to face Harry, I gasped at the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “What’s wrong?” I asked worriedly, and jumped onto the bed to sit in front of him.
He shook his head and wiped with frustration at his eyes, but more tears simply replaced the old ones. “It’s just…” he hesitated. “I’ve never taken those off but to shower and it’s weird having my arms bare again. Even weirder to see you wearing them.”
“What?” I said, feigning hurt. “Don’t I look great in them?”
He tried to smile, but it failed and instead a tear slipped from the corner of his eye. I was quick to catch it on the tip of finger, then, use the same digit to softly touch the space that was free from the bracelets for the first time in a while. It was a strange action, as I ran my finger, wet from his teardrop, along the sensitive skin on his wrist, but it seemed to affect Harry in more ways than one. He shuddered and tears began to pour down his cheeks. In the same moment he reached forward, and tugged on my waist, pulling me off balance and into his arms.
He clung onto me as he silently cried, and I just curled into him, not daring to move. He gripped the back of my shirt and dug his nose into the crook of my neck. He said weakly, “I-I’m sorry, Delia. I’ve j-just never had anyone do the things y-you do for m-me. T-Those bracelets… they s-stand for everything I wish I w-wasn’t. And you’re everything I w-wish I could be. It’s unbelievable to see you wearing them.” I stayed quiet, knowing he had more. “T-They’re my regrets. And I w-wore them every day, so I-I never forgot. To think y-you of all people… would just t-take them f-from me? I-I didn’t realize I needed s-someone like you.”
“Is that bad?” I asked in a whisper and as he shook his head, I felt a wetness hit my neck.
“It s-scares me to n-need someone,” he laughed, but it’s a forced sound. “It s-scares me a lot, but I-I can’t help not to j-just…” He sighed, and crushed me harder against his chest, representing that exact need he was talking about. “I-I don’t understand why y-you know exactly how t-to see through me, b-but I don’t think I c-can let you go now.”
“Ok,” I said, and rested my head against his shaking chest. I knew Harry was dealing with a lot of pent up emotions at the moment, and did not truly understand what he was telling me. Perhaps it was all true, and he felt that way, or perhaps the things clouding his mind had overwhelmed him and he was spouting nonsense in his fragile state. Whatever it was causing him to say these things between his sobs, it was breaking my heart.
Harry should never have a reason to cry. I want him to smile, because he looks beautiful that way. I want him happy, just like I want Zayn to tell the truth. It’s more of a need really, just like Harry was talking about. Sometimes people come into your life, and you know immediately that there is a reason. I never wanted to be in One Direction, and although I tried, it was still hard to adjust. What if fate put me here to help Harry, and be what he needs? It would not be so horrible for my purpose only be to help Harry. It sounds like a great deal. I would do what he needed, and in turn get to see him smile.
In some ways, I needed Harry, too. I was just not aware of those reasons yet.
“I like holding you,” he said after a few minutes.
“Why?”
He pulled away a bit, so as to see my face. He reached up and wiped tears off my face, though I did not realize that I had begun to cry. “You’re so small and fragile. I guess it just makes me feel a little stronger, and I like that feeling.”
I smiled, and felt my heart pumping harder at realizing how close I was to him. “Harry,” I said, and he hummed in response. “What do you mean regrets?”
He did not respond, but instead rested his head on my shoulder. I let him, but pushed for him to speak. “You said on the Ferris wheel that you got a new bracelet every time you did something you didn’t want to forget, but wanted to hide it. So you want to hide something you regret, but also wear it every single day? I don’t understand.”
He shook his head against me, and I sighed. I moved myself from between his legs, to face him, and gently pushed his head away from me, but as soon as I did, his head fell against the pillow behind him. He was not fully asleep, but by the fluttering of his eyelids, I knew it was soon. I slid the covers out from beneath him and tucked him in, then removed the bowl of popcorn which we had almost finished from the bed. I laid myself down beside him, but did not touch him, not knowing if he wanted to hold me tonight.
Surprising me, he groaned, “C’mere.” When I hesitated, he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me into his chest, wrapping his arms securely around me. They were the arms that had saved me from the nightmares that used to wait for me in my sleep. For the first time in what felt like years, I was not afraid of what my haunt my mind when my eyes closed. I knew that even in the darkness, I would still feel Harry’s warmth and I was safe.
“You do look good in those bracelets, though.” He mumbled in his sleepy state, and I smiled, hugging my arms, covered in the regrets that brought him to tears, closer to my chest.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
~Two Days Later~
*Zayn’s P.O.V.*
“Yes, Perrie.” I said, smiling into the phone. “I’ll tell them soon.”
I had been on the phone with my girlfriend for the past hour, updating her on the scenario I had told Delia about a while back. Through the entire conversation I could sense Perrie building up more and more respect for my girl band mate, as she agreed with everything she had said. I hoped to introduce the two sometime in the future, since they really were a lot alike in their light-hearted, and loveable personality. They would click instantly, but then I would have two girls ganging up on me as one to tell the rest of the band about my “problem”.
They just did not understand that I could not bear to distract my friends like that. Their careers were already on a delicate line as it is. This could knock them off the tightrope altogether.
“Yea,” I said after a few seconds. “I love you, too.” I ended the call with a promise to get in touch again soon. I slid my phone back into my pocket just as Harry stepped into the room.
We were at a recording studio in Liverpool, speaking with Wayne Hector about our “edgier” songs, when Perrie had called. I had been hiding out in this room, which I was just now realizing was a large storage closet, so Harry was probably here to tell me I needed to come back.
“Sorry, man.” I said, as he shut the door. “I was on my way.”
“Actually, Zayn,” Harry held up his hands to get me to stop in my tracks. “I need to talk to you.”
“Okay…” Stepping backwards, I felt my brow scrunch up in confusion. The past week had been all work, concerts, and traveling, so neither of us had had much time to talk. Our week off started the day after next, before the European part of the tour, so we were all going on adrenaline until then. We had Ed’s concert to show up at tomorrow night, then we could finally rest for a while. If Harry needed to talk to me away from everyone else and when he could save it until our break, then, it must be important.
Harry ran his hand through his curls a few times, as he paced from one wall to the other in the small space. It gave me the chance to point something out I had noticed happening to my friend.
“You look a lot better.” He glanced at me, a smirk on his lips, as I continued. “You look happy.” I knew I could not be the only one who had seen Harry’s transformation. Over the past few months, I had watched as his energy was drained and though he tried to stay upbeat and cheerful, he had failed. It had only been in bits and pieces that I had noticed it. For instance, when we would all be chatting, and he would lose interest and stay quiet, just watching instead of adding anything. Or when singing, and he would sound fine, but he would lose his passion, and just was not up to it. He seemed tired… like he was giving up, but still trying to hide it.
It was coming back though. The life, that is. Even though I had wanted to confront him about it, I knew it would never help. Now Harry was gaining back what made him so great and loveable. He was smiling more and started the joking around and did more random things. Slowly, the life was coming back.
“I’ve always been happy,” Harry lied, looking at me like I was not Zayn. Zayn knew everything. “Anyways, I needed your advice on something.”
“Alright.” I smiled encouragingly. “Shoot.”
He hesitated for a moment before asking, “You know how I fancied Delia, but didn’t want to?” I nodded, trying to understand where he was going. “I thought that I couldn’t or wasn’t allowed, to like her. I do, though. A lot. And I’m going to make her mine.”
I had no doubt that Harry would. One thing you have to know about the Cheshire boy is that he was not an idiot, and when he wanted something, he had the determination and wits to get it. He was a famous singer living his dream after all. He could get anything he wanted.
“You like her that much.” I stated, already knowing the answer.
“I want her more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time,” he said easily, but there was a force behind his words to show he meant them. “I wanted to ask if that was okay with you, though? And if you think the others lads would be bothered if I made a move…” he trailed off, biting his lip in hesitancy.
I slowly moved my hands into my jacket pocket, with the aim to play around with the lighter I usually kept in there. It had become a habit I did, and it helped me to think, but my pocket was empty, and I realized why. Delia had made sure I would not come into contact with anything that would allow me to smoke. I looked down at my wrist, to the nicotine patch, and the rubber band. The patch to help in case I had become too addicted, though I doubt I had, and the rubber band for me to snap whenever I wanted to smoke. Delia had held true to her promise of helping me stop, and was quiet good at being there for me when I wanted to talk about things. Such as the recordings Simon and all of Syco were making me do.
I smiled, “Well, nobody else is going after her that’s for sure.”
Harry laughed at that and ran a hand through his hair. I continued, “But she’s definitely not as bad as we all thought at first. I’m not like Louis, so I don’t think she’s acting. She could be good for you, and I think you two would be great together. Don’t worry what everyone else thinks. You can worry about that afterwards.”
Harry smirked, “You always know what to say, Zayn.”
I shrugged, chuckling. “I just know everything. That’s all.”
“Well do you know if you could help me with something?” he asked. “I have an idea to get her to like me, but I need some things done.”
A picture of Delia and Harry walking down the street with the rest of the boys and I, smiles on their faces as their hands were intertwined, flashed in my mind. I wanted them to be happy, and Harry was obviously really into her. I was so in.
Grinning, I said, “Just call me your wingman.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Delia’s P.O.V.*
I glanced down at my watch, seeing the large hand slide past the six. It was half past eleven in the morning, and I was already worn out. Yesterday, we had been in a studio in Liverpool, and now we were doing a sponsorship thing at a snack company in Sheffield. Louis was currently talking with a group of important looking people, as Niall and Liam conversed with Paul and a woman who looked in charge. Zayn and Harry were nowhere to be seen, and I sat over in the corner in a metal folding chair, waiting for orders. I was tired, and it was cold in this room, as I wore only a red skirt that stretched above my waist and a tight black top. I could not be bothered with the ‘who is who’, or even the basic information about why we were here.
My mind, the part that was not pleading for sleep, was entirely focused on a certain concert taking place tonight. Ever since Louis had announced it last Friday, I had been bursting at the seams with excitement to make an appearance at the event. Not only was I pumped to be meeting Ed Sheeran, I was incredibly excited to be going to my second ever concert. My first one had taken place with none other than One Direction, and while that whole situation had ended horrifically, I was hoping for a bit of better luck to happen at this one.
“Yo, cupcake!” Louis yelled across the room, and I rolled my eyes. This morning for breakfast, I had admitted that I was having a strange hungering for the sweet, and Louis had not stopped calling me by the nickname since then. He knew it was annoying me, and although I tried not to show it, the endearment was anything but cute. “We need you to get up off your backside and work!”
I unwillingly stood from my chair and tugged my lead feet to the spot where Louis was waiting, his arms crossed.
“Yes, Louis?” I asked, through gritted teeth.
He smirked, and I saw a devious sparkle in his eyes. “Oh, I didn’t need you. I just wanted to get your opinion on something.” He lifted up a box of well-known brand cookies. “Cookie or cream?”
I scowled, and punched his arm, causing him to lose grip on the box and they dropped to the floor.
“Oh, no!” he cried out and fell to the ground, carefully opening the package to check that his precious cookies were still intact. Once they were all reviewed individually, he looked up at me with a grimace. He said, “These are props you know. We don’t to get to keep them afterwards.”
“Maybe you should tell that to Niall, then.” I said, and pointed to the blonde boy. “He’s eaten through half of his box.”
Louis squeaked when his eyes reached Niall, whose face was stuffed full of crackers. “You can’t eat those, Ni!” Louis ran off and left me standing alone with the supervisors of this whole ordeal.
“Er… hi. I’m Delia.” I said, and offered my hand to a woman with dark skin and bright amber eyes.
“Nice to meet you.” She said kindly. “I’ve met the other boys during a conference for the sponsorship, since I will be seeing them before the North American tour, but all of us here at Nabisco have only heard of you.”
The man beside her, with a mustache and beard that need a bit of a trim, but wearing nice, official clothes, smiled and shook my hand. “I’m Rick Howard, and this is Nataline Grace. We’re the coordinators of this whole interview and photo shoot.”
“And you did such a great job,” I said a little awkwardly. “Not that I’ve been to a lot of these, but the set-up is very…” I bit my lip. “Sorry, I’m a little behind on everything.”
Nataline laughed and patted my shoulder, giving me a sweet smile that instantly relieved me. “It’s perfectly fine. Your management is the one who do all the major statistical things and deals with the money. You and the boys are just here to smile and express how excited you are to get to America.”
“That won’t be hard.” I returned. “I can’t wait to perform back home.”
Rick brought his palm to his forehead, as if just coming to a realization. “Right! You’re from the States, aren’t you?”
I giggled, and nodded. “You mean you couldn’t tell from my accent?”
Rick shrugged, “I guess my mind is on other things.” A loud noise came from behind him. I glanced over his shoulder to see that one of the cameras that were being brought into the room had almost crashed to the floor, but the expensive technology was caught just in time by the crew. “Dear god, they are helpless.” muttered Rick, as he started off to assist. With a wave over his shoulder he said, “Great to be working with you!”
Now left alone with Nataline, I tapped my foot a little nervously, wondering where I should be going. Louis and Niall had headed off to where the actual snacks were set up for the workers, so I could no longer see them, but I spotted Liam heading over to the green screen.
“I’ll talk to you later?” I asked Nataline and she nodded before heading off to wherever she was needed. I turned and started for my friend, who was being quickly covered in make-up by Lou. While she worked, I slid an arm around Lou and pulled her into a side hug, greeting my friend with a smile.
“Hey, Delia.” She said, without turning away from her project, or better known as Liam’s face. “You look beautiful.”
“So in other words, you’re going to need to coat me in make-up and hairspray to keep me that way.” Liam laughed at my joke, and in return got a playful slap on the cheek from Lou for moving. He hissed as he moved his face to a statuesque stillness.
“Yep,” Lou responded and winked at me. I waited by my friend’s side as more and more people filed into this room, turning on equipment and readying the gear I knew near nothing about. Zayn and Harry decided to appear now, and while Zayn walked in empty-handed, a smirk on his face, Harry was carrying a platter of food. He walked up to a group of women standing off in the corner and offered them the snacks, while a camera man followed him around for backstage shots.
Although it would seem that the two boys had just been working behind the scenes, I could see the mischievous little glances they passed to each other every time their eyes met. They were up to something and I intended to find out what it was.
Almost an hour later, we stood on the mat of the green screen, each holding one of Nabisco’s products, and smiling as flash after flash of the camera blinded our eyes. Instructions such as pointing, and jumping, were made to us as they took pictures, but mostly we were allowed to pose as we wanted. Somehow, it had become a “funny joke” to mess up my hair during the photos. Liam had rubbed my head during one shot, and I had fumed as I brushed down the curls I had worked so hard to perfect, only to have Niall do the same two minutes afterwards.
When Louis flipped all of my hair over the front of my face seconds before a photo, I let out an aggravated screech and turned to slam my box of cookies right into Louis’ stomach, which was covered by a tight black shirt.
“Oof!” he groaned, as he stepped back a little, but when he looked back up, I knew it was on. The cameras continued to snap even as we hit each other with the snack boxes in the most immature ways, and even when we tore open the packages and began pelting each other with the cookies inside. Niall pouted the entire time, clamoring behind to gather up the food before it was wasted. The five of us laughed the entire thing off after a few minutes, because the camera crew had given up on trying to get us to remain calm. They let us head back to the stylists, so they could attempt to brush the crumbs off of us, but after several minutes of dusting us off, we were rushed onto the next set down a long hallway.
“Excuse me, sir.” said Louis to a very tall, masculine woman as he passed. “But do you know where we could get in a quick shower?”
The woman huffed and threw her head back, causing the rest of us to laugh.
“Fine, then,” Louis returned unhappily, snapping his fingers sassily. “I guess you’re just too cool for me.”
We all burst out laughing harder then, and when we entered the new photo set, rowdy and loud, there was almost a communal groan from everyone who would have to put up with us. It was not our fault really. Just with so much seriousness and hard work to be done, a good laugh was needed. And we were just the ones to bring it. Louis, of course, was the leader in these kind of things, which was, as the afternoon progressed with interviews, photos, and filming, he never kept a serious tone, but always a serious face. I, on the other hand, laughed at his sarcasm the entire time.
That was one thing Louis and I had in common. We had the same sense of humor, which included witty comments muttered under our breath, and sarcastic jokes that made everyone have to think twice. Louis went all out during the interviews, so the entire thing was hilarious. Louis is a very loud and opinionated person, but when he insults the other boys, he is just messing round and it’s all for fun. The second he turns to me after I speak, his lips tighten, and his eyes squint together, like he is holding back something worse than he is allowed to say.
Louis’ sense of humor is great, but I was still fearful of the moment he took it too far with someone.
“And I’m just happy to be going back to my home country.” I said to the camera, as the topic turned to the North American tour.
“And we’ll be happy to leave you there,” Louis shot back, a sly smile on his face. The other boys laughed it off, while I just shrugged and smiled. We always had to play nice for the cameras that followed us around on a daily basis.
“Go ahead and try.” I stated and winked. The camera men gave us the thumbs up, showing that the filming had stopped and we were good to go. That was the last job to be done, so we were now all finished, finally able to relax, grab a real meal instead of all these manufactured foods, and get back to the hotel to get ready for Ed’s concert tonight.
Just as I stood from the chair, and raised my arms to stretch, Harry ran off the set, shedding his blazer as he went. He disappeared down the hall, and Liam frowned as he watched this.
“What was that about?” he asked.
Zayn shrugged, but he wore a devious smile. “I think he just had to use the loo. Why don’t we meet him at the hotel, and we’ll order some pizza?”
“Sounds good to me,” Niall answered, but I was not convinced.
We spent a good hour remaining in the building as we individually thanked everyone for their hard work, and though it was a long process, it was worth it once we were finally sitting in the back of our van. Harry had yet to show back up, and I seemed to be the only one who cared. Paul was assured by Zayn that Harry was with another one of the security guards and not to worry. Liam, Niall, and Louis were all chattering away about something, and while it must be funny, considering their laughter, I kept my eyes aimed out the tinted van windows.
A few minutes before we reached our hotel, which was surrounded by fans, Zayn’s phone began to ring.
“Hello?” he answered and waited as the person on the other end spoke.
“Is that so?” Zayn nodded as he listened. “You need her now? I’ll send her in.” He ended the call and I gulped. I was the only ‘her’ in this van, so I was undoubtedly certain he was referring to me.
Zayn eyes met mine and he gave me a sympathetic look. “That was someone from management.” He said before I could ask. “They want to talk to you in the meeting hall of the hotel as soon as we get there.”
I frowned, “What about?”
Zayn’s honey-colored eyes grew sadder as he looked at me, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Dels. But it didn’t sound too good.”
I felt cold dread flood through my veins, freezing every organ in my body except for my heart which was now going into hyper-drive. Zayn tried to give me a comforting smile, but when he picked up on my heavy breathing, he leaned forward and squeezed my knee.
“Don’t worry, babe.” He said. “They probably just want to ask how you are settling in. It’s not like they have a reason to be angry with you.”
I tried to nod, but only a whimper escaped my throat. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I felt Liam wrapping his arm around my shoulders to comfort him, and heard him whispering in my ear, “Whatever it is, Delia. I’ll be right there to help.”
Liam knew how management could make me do anything by using blackmail, but he was in no position to help. I would be the center of their cold eyes and viscous smiles, not him. I would be the one subject to their every wish, not him. I was their puppet in this sick show they call a business, and just like they forced me to join the band, they could move me and twist my body by just pulling on my strings. One string stood for my mother, another for my dad, the third for my publishing contract, and the last one represented my future. They easily had all my limbs tied, and while Liam would be up safe in his hotel room, I would be the one playing puppet for the sick minds of Modest!.
Shaking, I tore my eyes away from the window as we pulled behind to the hotel to a secret entrance the fans would not get to us at. My mind felt like it was disconnected from my body as Liam held my hand and led me through the door and down a hallway. I heard him whispering to Zayn for a moment, before my hand was given to the Bradford boy, and I was now being led down the hall by him.
“Seriously, there’s no reason to be scared.” Zayn said, though his voice sounded miles away and the smirk on his face was barely registered by my mind. “I don’t know why you’re so worked up, anyway. You and Richard Griffiths are quite the partners in scheming. They all love you.”
I shook my head, and began to mutter over and over, “You don’t understand. You don’t understand.”
Zayn did not know how desperately I relied on doing everything management wanted me to do. The second I went against their wishes, my mother could be on the streets, and my writing career down the drains. Not that the latter had much chance of getting off now that I was famous for something else entirely. However, everyone at management had more control over my life than anyone but God had the right to have. So, as I was being dragged down a flight of stairs, my feet heavy, and body shaking, I prayed that I had not done something wrong and would make it out unscathed.
“Right up here.” Zayn said, as he halted and dropped my hand. I used that now free hand to continuously brush through my hair until I had thoroughly tangled it up with my sweaty palms. “Take a deep breath.” commanded Zayn.
I tried, but ended in a hiccup that made Zayn chuckle. “Just go in already.” Zayn said, as he lightly pushed to me two a pair of doors at the end of the hall, with a sign next to it reading, “Meeting Hall 2A”
I gulped again, and found my head spinning in fear. I turned around to ask Zayn if he would walk me in, but he was already gone, to return to his safe hotel room with his friends for some pizza.
Although my mind screamed for me not to, my body went against it and raised a shaking hand to the doorknob. It was cold as ice on my skin as I turned it, and just as the door clicked softly open, the sound of a familiar tune floated out from the crack.
Curiosity overwhelming my fear, I pushed the door all the way in and found a surprise that took my breath away. The music came from a band in the corner of the huge room, including Josh, Dan, and everyone who played for us during concerts. The song was one of my favorites, as I recognized it to be Grade 8 by Ed Sheeran. I hummed along to it, as my wide eyes scanned the rest of the room.
There were no CEOs or businessmen sitting at a long table, but instead the room was empty, and only Harry stood in its place. His hair was perfectly messy, and eyes a bright shade of green. He wore an orange Ed Sheeran t-shirt and black skinny jeans with white supras, and held a bouquet of white roses in his hand.
Harry stood in the middle of the room, watching me with a gleam and smirk on his face. The music continued to play, but softer as I walked deeper into the room towards the man waiting for me.
When I stood only a few feet away, he spoke in his hypnotizingly low tone, “Sorry, it’s cheesy. I just thought that if I was going to make a fool of myself I might as well go all out.”
“I-I…” I was speechless, for lack of better words. Harry really did go all out on whatever this was, which I truly wanted to know. “I don’t understand. I thought management...”
Harry laughed as he interrupted, “Zayn faked the call. That was just me telling him to send you down here. “
I gaped at him, “He’s a better actor than we give him credit for!”
Harry chuckled and offered me the flowers; each one was perfectly in bloom. I brought them to my nose and breathed in the heady scent, sighing in delight.
“I still don’t understand.” I said. “What is all this?” I motioned to the band playing behind me and Sandy gave me a cheeky little wave before continuing to play.
Harry’s cheeks turned a deep red, and he scratched the back of his neck hesitantly. “It’s my way of telling you I fancy you. I put all of this together because I think you’re worth the trouble. You’re pretty amazing, and I can’t help but want to call you mine.”
I just stared at him, eyes wide, too many thoughts rushing through my mind for me to get a single coherent one. Harry must have been waiting on response, but after a few tense seconds he said, “I felt something for you since the day I first met you. I thought what I felt was hate, but then I realized that I was falling for you. I didn’t want to, until the day we went to the fair that is. You were just so beautiful, and sweet, and understanding. I couldn’t help it. What I said last night was true. I do need you. You’re everything I’m not, but wish I could be. Delia, I’ve never met someone like you, and now that I know what it’s like to hold you and feel so complete… I can’t let that go.”
“Harry, I…” I began, though I had no idea what I was planning to say to that confession.
The man only shook his head, holding up a finger to show he was not done yet. He turned on his heel to a closed curtain I had previously thought covered a window, but when he pushed them away, it revealed a wall, sporting a huge sign.
As I stared at it, I heard Harry begin to softly sing to the song playing.
“You’re strumming on my heart strings, like you were a Grade 8
I’ve never felt this way, I’ll pick your feet up off of the ground now
And I’ll never ever let you down.”
My eyes scanned the cursive letters on the sign, reading:
Delia, will you be my date to the concert tonight?
It was such a simple request really, and so sweet that it brought tears to my eyes as I turned to face the boy, wearing a cheeky smile.
With a deep breath, I said, “N-no… I can’t.” and tossed him back the flowers before running from the room.
A/N: PLEASE DON"T KILL ME!!!!!!
I love you and your wonderful comments so please give me some feedback and don't forget to vote!!!
Love,
Lisle