The two weeks that have followed since the fight Harry and I had in Hershey have been the hardest weeks of my life. I have never felt so sick to my stomach, and my heart has never felt heavier in my chest. At this point I'm practically punishing myself with the fight on a constant loop in my head, contemplating things I could have said or done differently. I cannot shake it or stop myself from reliving it. Since I got home, my favorite place has become my bed. I've barely spoken since I told Mum and Dad what happened, let alone even left the house.
Mum had to tell Barbara I was sick so she wouldn't call me for shifts, and Dad gave up on asking me to come to work with him after the first four days. I have steered clear from social media, and haven't replied to anyone's messages or answered anyone's calls for the fear of breaking down. I cannot sleep and I cannot eat knowing that this is the longest Harry and I have gone without talking.
A light knock on my bedroom door follows the sound of Mum's gentle voice.
"Olivia, I'm going to work. Do you want anything before I leave?"
I briefly close my eyes at the sound of the sadness in her tone, knowing that my own mother has been walking on eggshells around me. It just makes me despise myself even more.
"No, thank you," I answer just above a whisper, prompting a sigh from her before she quietly closes the door.
Once again, I am left to wallow in my sadness. I know this is far from healthy, and I should probably get myself out of bed, at least downstairs, but I cannot find the strength to do so. My phone vibrates on the duvet next to me and I roll over to the other side of the bed with a grunt, already knowing who the text is from.
Eliza Pierceston to HC Trio:
Eliza has sent out a text to Harry and me in our group text message every morning around this time, presumably just before she heads off to class. I can picture the mixture of frustration and sadness on her face as she types out each one, and I do not doubt that Niall was the one who told her Harry and I had a row. I mean, how else could she know about it, really? I have only read her texts as they have come in on my lock screen and I'm certain that Harry hasn't opened them either.
Even from Manchester, Eliza has the ability to be a pain in the arse. In saying that, she is one of the only people on the planet that has the ability to make me see sense. Harry and I are both stubborn and strong minded people, but I am not going to be the one to break first. In this case it seems that neither is he, which would be why we haven't spoken for so long. It's all one giant mess.
Just as I am about to close my eyes, my phone buzzes once again. I let it go, thinking it's just another one of Eliza's texts or a text from anyone, really. When it continues buzzing obnoxiously, I crack an eye open in confusion but decide to answer it without thinking, even though I don't recognize the number flashing on the screen.
"Hello?" I answer warily.
Even though I don't know the caller, it could literally be anyone about anything, so I'm not too suspicious, but I am attentive.
"Olivia?"
"This is she, may I ask who's calling?"
"Olivia Masterson?" The somewhat familiar male voice on the other side of the phone asks for clarification.
"That's the one," I laugh nervously, wondering who in the world has called me by trying to place the voice to a face.
A relieved breath follows. "Olivia, it's Julian Bunetta."
My eyes nearly bug out of my head, knowing that it's Julian calling me. The last time I saw him was two weeks ago in the writing session with Harry and Niall. Pretty much the day that Harry and I had our fight and that realization alone is enough to make the back of my eyes prick with tears.
"Hi Julian, how are you?"
He laughs softly, having heard the mixture of apprehension and sadness in my voice. "I'm good darl, how are you holding up?"
"I've been better," I admit with a defeated sigh.
I have always felt like I can trust Julian and be open and honest with him, even though I haven't known him for long. I admire that about him as a songwriter. After spending a few writing sessions with him and the boys I can easily see how they have the trust in him that they do.
"Sorry Julian, but how did you get number ... and why?"
"I asked Paul for it actually, I didn't want Harry to know about this," he explains. "I know you two are going through a bit of a rough patch so I thought it would be better this way."
"I guess you could call it that," I mumble, leaning against the headboard of my bed before I catch on to the last part of Julian's sentence. "Wait, what do you mean by that?"
"There's a reason why I'm calling you," he pauses before dropping a completely unexpected bomb on me. "I'm calling to inform you that a song you co-wrote with Harry has made the boys' third album, and I figured you had no one to tell you so I wanted to. Congratulations!"
"Oh, that's gre-" I stop myself short when my brain registers what he's just told me. My words catch in my throat and I just stare into space with wide eyes instead.
What Julian has told me cannot be true. There is only one song I have written with Harry, on our camping trip in Mexico. Can it be possible that Harry brought the song to Julian, the boys and the team? That they liked it enough to record it, then decided they loved it that much to put on their third album for the whole world to hear? Anything is possible at this point, and I don't know how I want to feel about this. Harry did this without my permission or without telling me. We haven't spoken for days, but still.
"Is it Something Great?"
"Yes. I understand you're most likely in shock right now, but listen to me, Olivia," he begins somewhat seriously. "Harry brought the song to the table about a week after you left. He told me that it was the first song you guys wrote together and that he wanted to lay down some vocals to let off some steam after what went down."
"Okay," I allow him to continue when he waits for me to speak.
"The other lads heard Harry's demo and they loved it. They each recorded their parts and we just kept adding more and more to it until Harry was happy with it. We recorded it over three days and we all very quickly agreed it needed to make the album. Olivia, it's on there, very much locked in."
Listening to Julian explain the story from start to finish has made me paralysed with shock, fear, and I have no idea what else. I almost feel like I'm dreaming at this point because this means that I am officially a songwriter. I'm officially a songwriter with a One Direction song as the first song I have officially written under my belt.
"Holy shit."
"The reason I'm telling you this is because I see your potential, Olivia. You can be a world class songwriter and I want you to learn under my guidance."
My jaw drops open and I am rendered speechless. I have no hope of forming a coherent sentence right now and Julian must sense this because he continues to speak instead.
"I will teach you everything; how the industry works and the process of writing and producing. As well as learning from me, there's a course you can do online that will give you the qualifications you need. You'll work alongside me and my team with any artist I work with, which as you know, is currently One Direction. Basically you'll be travelling with me and the lads, you'll write and produce on their album with me and the rest of the team."
"Holy shit," I repeat. It's the only answer I can come up with to all of this information. Julian laughs lightly before becoming serious again.
"If you want this Olivia, I will open doors for you in this industry, you can really make something out of it. I want you to know that I don't just offer this type of job to anybody. I go by my gut feeling, and since that first session you sat in on, I had a good feeling about you. Something Great has only cemented my gut feeling, and I asked for your number straight after that first recording session with Harry."
"Holy shit," I repeat once more, making him laugh again. "I apologize for my language Julian, I'm in shock."
"Please," he scoffs, "I am the absolute last person you need to apologize to for foul language."
"Thank you. Not just for every kind thing you said but also for this incredible opportunity you've just presented me with. I don't know what to say ..."
I shake my head while holding a hand to my forehead, still very much in shock by the turn this phone call took.
"You don't have to give me answer right now, take all the time you need to think about it. I know that this can change the course of your life, and I know you'd probably want to sort out your shit with Harry and speak to him about it before you come to a decision."
"Yeah, well, if he even wants to talk to me ever again." I let out a pained laugh and he sighs.
"Trust me, he does, but he's just hurting right now. I've only known Harry for a few months, I don't know him nearly as well as you do, but I can tell he feels shit insanely deeply and can be stubborn as hell about it."
I smile and shake my head in disbelief. "You're completely right about that."
"You two need to talk," he decides. "I know that in a way me telling him about this might have aided in your situation, but I can't take away your right to tell him."
"Thanks Julian. I need some time to process and consider your offer, if that's okay?"
"Seriously Olivia, take all the time you need, like I said. I'm not going anywhere and neither are the lads....at least not in an album making type of way," he says, making me laugh for the first time in weeks, even if it is a tiny one.
"I'm going to let you go now, I have some
work to tend to. Talk to Harry," he adds seriously before bidding me goodbye and ending the call.
My movements are robotic as I move the phone away from my ear, dropping it beside me as I sit with my legs crossed and blankly staring at the wall ahead of me. For the next few minutes, which feel like hours, I process the phone call I had from Julian. When the situation sets in, the first genuine smile I've had in weeks spreads across my lips and it almost feels strange to feel happy about something. I pick up my phone once more and call one of the numbers I have come to memorise by heart, doing something I probably should have done the day I got home.
"Hello?"
My heart skips a beat when I get an answer on the third ring, but then I instantly relax and realise I have been such a fool to have not called sooner.
"Hi Anne, it's Liv. Are you home today?"
*****
"Thank you for seeing me, Anne. I'm so sorry I haven't come around sooner."
"Olivia, sweetheart, I understand," Anne assures me as she places a cup of tea down in front of me before taking her seat across from me at the kitchen table.
I have been in this house so many times but today I almost feel like a stranger. I hate it.
"You had a fight with my son, it's completely reasonable to have avoided me."
I shake my head in disagreement. "It's definitely not, you don't need to make excuses for me."
She observes me over the brim of her cup for a few seconds, her expression soft as she assesses my appearance. Anne can see right through me, she may as well be my second mother. She has certainly felt like one over the years.
"How are you holding up?"
"Honestly Anne," I begin with a sigh, feeling my resolve crumbling. "I have never felt more like crap in my life. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I think this is the first time I've even left the house since I got home. I'm a mess."
"Don't make the mistake of believing Harry is doing any better," she gently points out without any negativity towards me in her tone.
She is merely pointing this out to me, making me look up at her in shock. Hearing that Harry isn't faring any better than I am strangely gives me comfort in a way that isn't selfish. I did a decent job of convincing myself that he has been doing better than me, getting on with his life on tour. But deep down I knew that would have been far from the case. We are too involved and invested in each other's lives and have been for a whole solid half of our lives.
I pick up my phone from the table and open up my Twitter app, glancing up at Anne. She remains silent and gives me a solemn nod, knowing what I'm about to do and giving me her blessing to do so. It doesn't take much searching to find pictures of the boys travelling from city to city, as well as being on stage night after night. It is undeniable from the way he is carrying himself that Harry isn't his usual self, and that is enough for me to want to break down again. I sniffle and hold back the tears pricking the back of my eyes as I lock my phone, and Anne holds one of my hands in her own.
"Sweetheart, your mother and I have been talking," she begins with a slight pause before continuing on when I nod. "Why don't you go spend some time at Harry's house in London, hm? It might do you good to have some time away to yourself," she finishes with a genuine smile, the mothering and nurturing side of her in full effect.
Some proper time to myself might be beneficial for me, as Anne just suggested, and I could really use the time away to make my decision on Julian's job offer. I'm not entirely pleased at the fact Mum and Anne came to this conclusion while talking about me behind my back, but I know that they are looking out for me and only want what's best for me. But knowing that it will be Harry's house that I'm going to doesn't sit well with me because we haven't spoken since our fight.
"That sounds great Anne, really," I begin slowly, "But, I don't know if going to Harry's is the best idea."
She gives me a look as though to say I am being ridiculous. "Don't be silly, what my son doesn't know won't kill him. And despite everything that's going on between you two, I know he still loves you very much."
I cover my eyes behind my free hand in an attempt to conceal my emotion. I didn't know how much I needed to hear those words until now. Anne rubs her hand up and down my forearm to console me, gently shushing me to calm down my quiet sobs.
"I miss him so much, it hurts so much."
"I know sweetheart," Anne coos as she stands from her seat to pull me into a hug.
"I know. Promise me you'll drive down to Hampstead tomorrow, promise me and your mother you will."
I don't know why Anne is insisting on the idea so much, but if it will make her and Mum happy and give me some time to just breathe, then I'll go. I don't think I'm going to be completely comfortable with being in a space that is entirely Harry's after what's happened, but I can't deny that I need this time to myself to process and think through everything.
"I promise, Anne."
*****
The house is so silent that you can practically hear a pin drop, apart from the occasional sniffle from my end. For the first time, being in Harry's home without him makes me feels miserable, and just reminds me of all the good times I have shared with him here. Despite my reluctance to take Anne and Mum's advice of staying here for a couple of days, I kept my promise to them. I packed my bag, got in my car and made the drive down here last night. I arrived just as the sun was setting in the sky, and when I unlocked the front door and dropped my bag in the hallway I was truly alone with my thoughts. I will never comprehend how Harry and I allowed ourselves to take the fight to the level that we did. That was without a doubt the worst fight we have ever had, and the longest we have ever gone without speaking.
I have not woken up to texts from Harry letting me know he has safely landed in a new city or country, or him letting me know something funny that happened on tour. Not being able to text him and wish him luck onstage, or call him for a quick few minutes to see where he is or what he is up to has been even worse. Over these last fifteen odd days I feel as though I have lost my best friend, and that is a loss I never imagined I would have to go through.
Harry has always been a constant in my life. No matter what he has had going on in his life, he has always dropped everything to be by my side when I've needed him. He has always protected me, been better to me than I deserve, and has builded me up to be a more confident and well rounded person. Without him, a piece of me is missing and I just want the pain to stop, more than I want anything else.
A part me wishes Harry would just walk through the door and tell me how ridiculous we've both been, but that's just irrational thinking. Harry is not coming. He's in America, probably onstage or at an interview or travelling either in a plane or the back of a black SUV.
But, I can go to him.
I wipe away another tear that rolls down my cheek and stand up from the couch with purpose, collecting my coffee mug with me. I practically race through washing the cup before rushing up the stairs two at a time to pack my bag. I am nowhere near prepared to travel to another country, but at this point it doesn't matter and I don't care. The few items I did unpack from my bag last night are repacked in a flash, and I click on Paul's contact as I float down the stairs. While I listen to the phone ring I drop my bag on the floor, and slip my shoes on my feet just as Paul picks up.
"Olivia?" He sounds surprised to hear from me which confuses me, but then I realize it's probably because of mine and Harry's current situation.
I snatch the phone from the step next to me, standing up as I bring it to my ear. "Paul, where are you guys?"
There is a moment's hesitation before his gruff voice answers, "What do you mean?"
"Come on, Paul, please," I huff as I start to pace due to my impatience, feeling like I'm going to cry at any moment.
I swear I hear a sound coming from the front door, but I dismiss it and resume my pacing. Now I'm just imagining things.
"Tell me where you guys are, I'm getting the next flight out there."
I turn around at the sound of a loud thud, coming face to face with a dishevelled mop of curly hair and tired red rimmed eyes with two duffle bags at his feet across the room. My lips part in shock and I almost drop my phone as Harry stares at me with tears in his eyes and the smallest smile on his face, telling me that he heard what I just said into the phone.
"Never mind, Paul. Harry's here," I dismiss him and end the call, without breaking eye contact with Harry the entire time.
"Looks like I bet you to it." Harry sounds the slightest bit amused but I can still hear the pain in his voice, the same pain that I have been carrying for the last couple weeks.
He cautiously takes a few steps towards me from the opposite side of the room and the river I was so desperately trying to hold back comes flooding out all at once. He very quickly notices the signs that I am about to cry and I am in his arms in time for the first of many sobs to erupt from my chest. With one hand cradling my head and the other around my small frame, I am drowning in the familiar smell of him in one of the tightest but most needed hugs. I fist the back of his jumper in my hands to convince myself that he is really here and this is not a moment my imagination has conjured up. I know this is real when I feel Harry's body shaking against mine, proof to me that he has been just as a mess as I have been while he quietly sniffs into the crook of my neck.
Words don't need to be shared between us just yet, even though we have a lot of explaining and talking to get through. I also have so many questions for him. What the hell he is doing here in the middle of the American leg of the tour, is the first of many swimming around in my brain at this very moment. But right now, holding onto each other to stop us from breaking even more is what we both need. Talking can wait, I am just grateful and relieved that he is here.
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