{Harry's Point of View}
The plane jerked and shuddered as it landed. The wheels screeched across the runway as the pilot braked. I instinctively reached my right hand out to take Kate's hand. She was always nervous during takeoffs and landings. But my hand brushed against the upholstery of the empty seat beside me. Kate wasn't there. I let my hand fall back to my lap pathetically.
As the plane taxied to the gate, I took my phone from my bag. I had slept most of the lengthy flight from Sydney to London. My phone had been off, so I waited for it to turn on. Immediately, several notifications from missed calls appeared on the screen. They were all from Eli. A text message from him came through.
Eli: Harry, please call me as soon as possible. Eli.
My heart rate intensified. Eli would not be calling with news unless it was regarding Kate. My left leg bounced nervously as the plane slowed against the gate. The flight attendants had already been instructed to let Niall and me off the plane first. I gathered my belongings, ready to rush off the plane.
"Thank you for flying with us, Mr. Styles. It was a pleasure having you aboard," the flight attendant beamed as I exited the plane.
"Thank you," I nodded curtly.
"Hey! Harry! Wait up!" Niall pushed is headphones around his neck and struggled to unplug his phone from the cord as he followed me. "You're nearly running!"
"I have to make a call. It's urgent," I said over my shoulder.
"Well wait for Nick, Harry. There are loads of fans all over Heathrow."
I had forgotten about all the fans at the airport. Though it was only Niall and me arriving today, fans had been camped out at the airport for two days. Liam and Louis had stayed in Sydney to meet with a couple of songwriters. They would be back in London the day after. The prospect of only seeing two members of the band didn't deter fans from gathering in droves.
Nick and a few other security guards appeared to escort us to our awaiting cars. We passed through a sea of eager fans. I felt the sleeves of my shirt being tugged on by excited hands. My name was chanted over and over. I quickly scribbled my signature on outstretched notebooks and photos of myself. I waved to the no one in particular, but heard the screams fans claiming I had directed it at them.
"Niall is taking the first car, Harry. You have the second."
"Fine," I muttered to Nick as he pointed to the two cars idling in a roped off corner of the passenger pick-up zone. I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and marched toward the SUV. I slid into the backseat to find the familiar face of Peter, my usual driver.
"Welcome home, Harry," Peter smiled.
Home. London certainly didn't feel like home without Kate. "Hello, Peter."
"Am I taking you to your townhouse or you country house?"
"Townhouse," I replied. "I have things to pick up."
"Right away, Harry." Peter pulled the SUV into the stream of cars exiting the airport.
I was terrified to make the call. I waited until Peter had wedged us deep into London traffic, until I thought I might combust. I found Eli's contact in my phone and pressed the call button. The phone rang a few times until Eli picked up. "This is Eli."
"Hey, it's Harry. I got your message."
Eli cleared his throat, "I knew you were on your flight, but this isn't news that can wait. It's about Kate."
My mouth went dry. I leaned my head against the cold window and closed my eyes. "What is it, Eli?"
"Yesterday when I picked Kate up from work, she asked me about my job. I admitted that I work for you, not your management company. She was really upset and fired me."
"She can't fire you. You don't work for her. You work for me." Internally, I was panicked. I had kept Eli with Kate for her protection.
"Harry, I think I would have a really difficult time getting her to agree to keep me. She was extremely upset. I don't think that I could convince her otherwise."
Too many things were running through my mind for me to focus. Worry, fear, anger, frustration all pumped through me. She didn't understand how necessary Eli was. She was being irrational, emotional. "Eli, you will remain on payroll. I want you to be on call at all times. Be sure that she knows that if she ever gets in trouble, she can call you."
"Yes, sir."
"I want you to text her weekly to check up on her."
"Understood."
"I'm sorry about this, Eli."
"It was only a matter of time, Harry."
"Yeah. Yeah, I suppose that's right."
The phone call ended, but my anxiety did not. I had hired Eli for Kate's protection. She was a target for photographers and fans all eager to have their brush with me. Eli always served as a barrier between Kate and the people looking to exploit her. He ensured that Kate was never alone. He was a peace of mind for me as much as he was for her.
__________
My house was dark and quiet. All traces of Kate were removed months ago. I had called my housekeepers and requested that all of Kate's belongings were boxed up and put in storage. As I walked around my townhouse, I couldn't find any evidence that Kate had ever been there. It was oddly disheartening to think that this was no longer a space I shared with her.
I didn't stop in the kitchen for tea. I didn't bother with the luggage that had been left by my front door. I didn't take the time to shower. I didn't turn on a light or find a clean t-shirt or find a phone charger. I walked straight to my bed and pulled back the duvet. The sheets had been recently washed and smelled of fresh detergent. I stripped my jeans from my legs and crawled into bed. I cocooned myself in the bedding.
Months of sleeping in a cramped bunk on a bus as it bumped and rattled across borders or spending one night at a time in a different hotel bed vanished as I settled into my bed. Everything was familiar and comforting from the creak of the springs as I shifted, to the feeling of the sheets against my bare skin. Sleep came easily in my own bed. I didn't have to fight for it like I had so many nights on tour. I was lulled to sleep by the silence of my own home.
____________
I woke in the early afternoon the following day. Curtains prevented the sun from shining into my bedroom, but I still blinked heavily as if it were too bright. My head was groggy from too much sleep. My limbs felt heavy and ached from spending the night drawn in close to my body. I had subconsciously been careful not to cross over into Kate's side of the bed.
My phone remained where I had abandoned it nearly fifteen hours before. The battery was low, and text messages and missed call notifications were mounting. I had friends begging to meet up since I was back in London. I had management team members congratulating me on a good tour and reminding me of upcoming appearances. I had family telling me they were excited to see again. But there was nothing from Kate.
I ignored every attempt people had given to reach out to me. I didn't respond to a single message, open social media, or find a phone charger. I left my phone in my unmade bed and got in the shower to clear the sleep from my system.
____________
The November air was cold even at midday with the sun high. My coat, scarf, and beanie served as defense against the cold and a method to somewhat conceal my identity from photographers. My boots made a hollow thump as I marched across the pavement. I had no destination in mind; I only craved the fresh air.
London had truly been my first love. The city was infused with history and romance. The buildings were doused in intrigue. The air smelled of opportunity. Potential walked the streets. It felt as though success could be achieved in a city like London. Places all around the world interested me, but London was always home.
I felt differently walking through the city, however, as a cold autumn breeze made my eyes water. Walking around London felt so wrong. Each street seemed to have a memory of Kate and me. I passed a bakery where we had eaten breakfast, a store where we had shopped together for my sister's birthday, a restaurant where we had gone for a date, a street corner where we had been photographed kissing, and the frozen yogurt shop from our first almost-date. I was wading through a city that had not belonged to me in months, but had belonged to us. I was a traitor in its midst.
An SUV pulled up with windows tinted midnight-black. The passenger and back windows rolled down just enough for camera lenses to stick out. I heard the shutter of the cameras taking photos of me.
"Harry! Welcome back to London, mate!" a voice came from the vehicle as it moved slowly down the street in sync with my walking.
"Thank you," I mumbled.
"Where're you headed?" a photographer heckled.
"Nowhere in particular," I shrugged.
The cameras kept taking photos. I couldn't help but think that each photo likely looked identical to the rest. It was just me walking down a street in London. How many photos like that existed? I fought the urge to lift my hand to block my face. I was in no mood to be photographed today. Just before I raised my hand to shield myself, Henry's voice entered my mind, "Do not hide from the cameras. The fans want to see you. It is good to have photos taken of you. Keep your hands down."
"Harry, what can you tell us about Kate?" the photographer pried.
"Nothing," I shook my head.
"Get real, mate. You haven't been seen with her since the summer. You're not even together, are you? Just tell us. What are you hiding from?"
"You're holding up traffic, you know?" I stopped and pointed to the queue of cars piling up behind the SUV. "You can't do that. You're going to get cited."
"No, Harry. They're taking photos of you, too."
I looked back and saw more cameras hanging out the windows of the cars. Traffic was building with screeching horns and shouts coming from the cars. I could hear my name among intrusive questions and requests for comments. I worried about someone getting hurt while drivers were paying attention to me. It's not like this in California, I thought bitterly. They have stricter laws.
I ducked into a pub to get off the street where I was exposed to the dozens of photographers circling like sharks. The pub was nearly deserted; a single bartender and a single patron were there. The bartender didn't seem to recognize me, or didn't seem to mind who I was if he did.
"Can I get you anything, lad?" His accent was Irish.
"No, thank you. Have you got a phone?" I asked. The Irishman pointed to a phone hanging on the wall beside me. "Thanks," I mumbled.
The phone was greasy to the touch. It was a rotary dial phone with a spiraling cord. The numbers were faded, forcing me to count each opening on the finger wheel. It made a mechanical clicking sound as I circled the wheel with each number as I dialed. I put the grimy receiver to my ear.
"Hello?"
"Louis?" I asked.
"Yeah...Harold?"
"Yeah," I breathed a sigh of relief. "You picked up."
"I almost didn't because I didn't recognize the phone number. Who's phone are you using?"
"I'm at a pub, actually."
"Day drinking, eh, Styles?" Louis chuckled.
"Not exactly. I'm hiding from paps. Do you think I could come over to your place?"
"You sound a little upset, Harry? Is everything all right?"
"Can I come over, Lou? Please," I whispered.
"Of course. Do you have a car?"
"No," I muttered.
"What's your address?"
The address to the pub was printed on a faded sign near the phone. I read it off to Louis and he agreed to pick me up.
"Stay put, Haz. I'll be there soon."
____________
I sat at a corner table with a glass of cloudy water I didn't drink. I folded my arms on the table and rested my head on them. The Rolling Stones played softly in the background of the pub. It was odd to sit without the distraction of my phone. Normally, I would be checking emails or social media. But it was oddly relaxing to sit in the quiet pub without the pressure of placing my attention on any one thing.
I heard a clatter coming from a darkened corridor leading to the back of the pub. Heavy footsteps padded down the corridor to the main part of the pub. With each footstep, a new round of expletives was spoken. I didn't need to see the person to know it was Louis.
"When you said you were hiding out from the paps, I didn't know there was a whole army out!" Louis stopped just short of walking into me.
"That's why I called you," I sighed.
"What is this?" Louis raised the glass of murky water in disgust. "Tell me you didn't drink this."
"I didn't."
"Good. Get up. We're getting out of here."
"Right." I pushed myself up from the table and started toward the front door.
"Where are you going?"
"Outside?"
"Not that way, Harold. The paps are thick out that way. I had to park in the alley round back. Come on! Before they catch onto us."
I followed Louis down the dark corridor. The small space smelled faintly of bleach. The carpet underfoot was worn and beginning to fray. Louis pushed through the heavy back door using all of his force. We emerged from the musty pub into a narrow alley filled with broken beer bottles. Louis' black car was parked near the back door. The lights flashed as the car unlocked with two short beeps.
"Let's go," Louis said.
I got in the passenger seat and pulled the seatbelt across my chest. Louis had already started the car and began to pull onto the main road before he bothered with his own. Much like his personality, Louis' driving was impulsive and thrilling. He barely tapped the break and let his foot rest on the gas pedal. I found myself gripping the sides of my seat as he expertly darted between cars going in and out of traffic.
"I'm in a hurry," Louis muttered while leaning forward the check a blind spot before changing lanes. "I have a pizza that is supposed to be delivered any minute now."
Laughing, I glanced over and saw Louis' amused smirk. "You're risking my life by driving like a madman for pizza?"
"Absolutely."
____________
I had gone months without visiting Louis' house. It was larger than my townhouse and was nestled in an upscale district of London. The space was uncharacteristically tidy for Louis. Everything seemed to have a place leaving no clutter around. The house was excellent for a single guy. Louis had a game room with video game consoles and a Ping-Pong table. He had a pantry filled with sweets and a garage filled with exotic cars.
Louis ate pizza straight from the box as we sat on his sofa. He offered me some, but I declined. I hadn't properly eaten since returning from Sydney. My mind was elsewhere and had taken my appetite along. Instead, I sat quietly while Louis devoured an entire pizza and watched the highlights from a football game. I was thankful he wasn't forcing conversation. Not once did he ask why I needed him to pick me up from a pub in the daytime just hours after tour ended. I wasn't sure what my response would be anyway.
"Bet you missed me. That's why you called to have me come get you. We were on tour for months together, but you missed me."
"Or I didn't want to be trapped in a pub," I rolled my eyes.
"You really didn't have your phone?"
"Forgot it at home," I shrugged.
"Right," Louis scoffed. "Who really does that?"
"I guess I was trying to avoid it. Sick of the drama it reminds me of."
"Everyone feels like that sometimes," Louis said softly, the sarcasm fading. "It can get overwhelming."
"No one realizes how nice it is to go without a phone for a few hours."
"Don't reckon I could do it," Louis chuckled.
"Sure you could."
Louis stood up and walked to where his coat was lying over the back of a chair. He reached into the pocket and withdrew a pack of cigarettes. He tapped the pack on his thigh and looked over at me. "I don't smoke inside so if you want to keep talking, follow me."
The air was cold as the sun set. I shivered in my coat, but Louis didn't even flinch as he stepped out onto his balcony in a short-sleeved shirt. Louis produced a lighter from the pocket of his tight jeans.
"I thought you said you were quitting," I mumbled.
"When did I say that?" Louis put the cigarette between his teeth.
"Every time you pulled out a cigarette while we were on tour."
"Oh, right." I watched the cigarette bounce as Louis spoke. "Well, this one isn't for me. This cigarette is for you. You need to relax."
"Right," I rolled my eyes.
Louis cupped his hand around the tip of the cigarette as he lit it. The flame bobbed in the breeze, but managed to light the cigarette. Louis flipped the lighter shut and stored it in his pocket. The end of the cigarette glowed orange in the fading light. Gentle grey smoke streamed from between Louis' rounded lips and disappeared into the air.
"Are you going to talk to me about what's wrong, or do I have to guess?"
"It's a lot of things, I suppose."
"Well, start wherever you'd like."
"Kate fired Eli. She found out I pay him, not management. She told him she didn't need him anymore."
"I see." He blew a puff of smoke out the side of his mouth.
"It just makes everything seem more real. That was the last connection we really had. With Eli out of the picture, our last bridge has been burned."
"Harry," he began.
"I love her, you know? I just want to protect her from everything. I don't want her to get hurt of feel sad or be judged. But she keeps pushing me out of her life. I cannot think of any other ways to show her how much I care. If it wrote it in the stars, she'd just look away. She's being stubborn."
"You used to love her stubbornness."
"Well now it's just inconvenient," I huffed.
"Talk to her. Tell her that you need her back. She has a heart, Harry, a really big heart. Just open up and—"
"I've done that twice. I told her I love her still and want to be with her. Both times she turned me down. I'm not doing it again."
"Third time's the charm?" Louis said hopefully.
"There won't be a third time. If she wants me away, I'm going away."
"What do you mean?"
"I was walking down the street today feeling like an intruder. It feels like London is not my city to love any longer. I feel like a stranger. This belongs to her. Kate works here and needs to be here. I'm going to leave."
"Where are you going?" Louis tapped the cigarette on the railing of the balcony and ashes fluttered in the wind.
"I think I'm going to California for a bit. I'll stay there a long as I can."
"But you already sold your house there months ago."
"I'll find a new place to rent for the winter."
"You're just going to move there on a whim?"
"I need to get away. Everything reminds me of her. It's painful."
Louis took another long drag from the cigarette. His eyes trained on me with such intensity I wanted to look away. A cloud of smoke filled the space between us. It made my lungs burn and my eyes itch.
"You two are inevitable. I've never met two people that are so undeniably made for each other. There are strong forces in the world, but there is not a force strong enough to keep you apart. So you can move to California, and she can fire her security guard. You can leave your phone at home, and she can stay on her side of London. You can write sad lyrics, and she can have a new job. You can ignore every desire you have to find her and convince her of your love, and she can do the same, but you will end up together. You are inevitable."
I watched Louis extinguish his cigarette and flick it over the balcony to the courtyard below. A dog was barking. A car was honking. The wind was blowing. The moon was rising. The earth was spinning. I was breathing. And we were inevitable.