A/N: I wanted to preface this chapter and the rest of the story with this!!! Everyone is going to start saying it, I can feel it... I know this relationship they're building is kind of "moving fast." But they just connect, and their connecting through music, and friendship. They're just opening up, getting closer to each other.
It's kind of like.. Have you ever just met someone, and it was random meeting them but literally within days you're talking everyday, and you're facetiming all the time, and the highlight of your day becomes talking to that person even though you kind of just met them? This is the same thing!!!
Okay, enjoy!
Harry goes to bed early most nights... At least that's what I'm starting to assume. I went into the guest room about an hour ago, but I haven't closed my eyes once. I can't bring myself to do it. What if I close my eyes and wake up having had a nightmare? I don't want him to see one of those episodes.. Especially not right now.. Not ever honestly. But I can't continue to stare at the ceiling. I crawl out of bed, and walk out of the room, and down the stairs, not used to the space, but kind of loving it. I go into the large living room, and sit myself down at the piano, looking at the keys for answers once again.
I'm upset with myself right now... I'm really upset with myself for still letting someone control me even from the grave. He's not here anymore, but every night I end up letting him dance around my thoughts without warning, keeping me awake at night. I press my fingers to the keys, surges of inspiration coming through my head. This is why I stay awake... Inspiration.. Ideas... Music. Just let it go... Sing it out.
"Yelling at the sky, screaming at the world. Baby why'd you go away? I wasn't your girl. Holdin on too tight, head up in the clouds.." I stop playing, and get up, going back to my bag, getting my journal, and coming back to the bench writing this down. The chords I play are haunting, almost heavy feelings as I play them, but I also feel a huge release as I play.
I pick up where my fingers left off, going on. "Heaven only knows where you are now..... How do I love, how do I love again? How do I trust, how do I trust again?" I scribble it down, and run my hands through my hair sighing out. Three in the morning.. Three in the fucking morning Dean.. Couldn't leave me alone for at least an hour?
"I stay up all night, Tell myself I'm alright. Baby you're just harder to see than most. I put the record on, wait til' I hear our song..... Every night I'm dancing with your ghost... Every night I'm dancing with your ghost." I'm sure to keep my playing light despite how full the song is, and I keep my voice soft, not wanting to travel with it.
"Never got the chance to say our last goodbye... I gotta move on, but it might hurt to try... How do I love, how do I love again?" I start singing the chorus again, and close my eyes, singing it lightly. It doesn't hurt me to sing the words. It just releases me of exactly what I've been feeling. This is everything I've wanted to say.
I move back, and write the rest of the song, repeating the chorus, and I turn on the bench, looking down to the dimly lit words on the page, catching a figure in my eyes as I do. I jump up, and hold my chest. "Scared me.." I mumble softly, closing my journal. "M'sorry if I woke you up.." I mumble, and he comes farther in the room, crossing his arms over his chest. He's not wearing a shirt as he walks up, and his hair is a curled mess, but he still looks beautiful.
"You didn't..." He mumbles, moving closer. His eyes look tired, but they're still bright against the night.
"Really? You don't strike me as the kind of person who's awake at this time." I mumble, holding my journal tightly between my fingertips.
"I'm not usually.. I take my sleep very seriously Miss Summers." He still manages to pull a smile up. "But for some odd reason I kept thinking about you telling me you don't usually go to sleep... at least not during the night. That thought kept me up because I was worried you were awake by yourself, and then I heard you leave the guest room... and I followed you down the stairs." He tells me.
"Stalker." I poke fun, and he smiles, looking down to his hands. "So... So you just heard that whole song?" I ask, and he nods.
"M'sorry.. It was a bit personal, but you normally-"
"It's no big deal..." I mumble, looking down. "All of my lyrics are personal..." I shrug.
"So this Dean...." His fingers dance along the top of the piano, his other hand in his pocket. I'm shocked at him talking so openly about Dean, but then I remember he just heard that song.. At least he's perceptive.. At least he knows what the song was about.
"What about him?" I ask, and he looks down to me.
"He was your boyfriend?" He clarifies, and I nod. "And part of you is struggling with how to feel about him now? At least that's what I got from that song..." He asks, and I shake my head.
"I know how I want to feel about him... Part of me is just saying it's not right even though the other part of me is begging for it." I admit to him.
"Can I give you some advice?" He drops down in front of me as I sit on the piano bench. He crouches down, his hand balled in a fist resting on my knee. I nod, wanting to hear what he has to say. "Letting people go... Letting people go is one of the hardest things in human nature... Letting go feels like betrayal, you beat yourself up over it.. You make up stories in your head about that person, telling yourself lies about how they'd feel about you letting them go... but.. But letting those people go doesn't mean you don't love them anymore, it means you're taking care of yourself... I didn't know him... There's a big chance I'm overstepping here, but you're letting falsehoods in your own mind control you... But the only person that can control you in this life is yourself... It will stop consuming your life when you tell it to stop consuming your life... You deserve to sleep, and to feel normal, and you shouldn't feel bad about making new relationships, and trusting others..." He bounces his hand on my knee, and I just stare at him, trying to consume his words.
"Have you lost anyone?" I don't know where my question comes from, but I just sit with it, wondering if he'll answer this time.
"I have... Recently actually." He admits, and I don't press on, not wanting to overstep, but he surprises me.. "My step father.. He was more like my real father... I'm not some life coach, or guru on pain and healing, but I know... I know that it's not easy, but it gets better once you let it..." He tells me, and I nod. "I don't think my words are going to change how you sleep the rest of the night.. Are they?" He asks, and I give a shy shake of my head. He stands up at that, pulling the blanket from the back of the couch off.
"What are you doing?" I ask, and he wraps the blanket around my shoulders, and moves around me, grabbing his guitar. He sits on the far edge of the piano bench.
"What was the start of that one that you were singing before.. The one from the bonfire.. Meet.. Meet me in the hallway.." He starts strumming lightly, and I just watch him. I scoot forward, and take the neck of the guitar in my hand, stopping the sound.
"Harry Styles... What are you doing?" I ask again, not letting him have this distraction.
"I am pulling an all nighter? What's it look like I'm doing?" He furrows his brows and shrugs his shoulders as if it was completely obvious. "You're making it very hard to play while your hand is around my neck like that." He mumbles, his voice raspy, and he smirks, knowing how his words sounded as he nods his head to the neck of the guitar.
"Why are you pulling an all nighter... Go to sleep.." I mumble, taking my hands away from the guitar, and placing them in my lap, the blanket still over my shoulders.
"Darling... When a friend is sitting inside your house, and they're dealing with something you have two choices. Choice A, you can make sure they're good for now, and let them deal with it while you do your own thing... Or choice B, you can give them a space to feel comfortable, and open, and welcomed, and let them handle their own problems, but make sure they're not alone while they do it... I'm more of a choice B type of person..." He mumbles, looking to his guitar, and this moment...
Even though I did just meet him a little while ago. Even though he's still a huge mystery to me.. I know he cares about me... He's a person who could grow to love me, and I can see that right now. He's a friend, and one I need to have, and to keep in my life.
"I am too.." I tell him, and he nods, his head softly swaying to the familiar sound of the song we started the other night.
"I know... I can tell.." He mumbles, and for some reason his words.. His voice alone is comforting right now.. It's all I could ask for.
I wake up with a jump as I feel something under me, and then I feel warm hands steadying me, and I realize the movement from before was him.
"S'just me." My eyes adjust, and I notice how we are. My feet are across his lap, and my head pressed down against one of his couch pillows while he sits up his shoulders slumped to the back of the couch. "We fell asleep.." He yawns out. We fell asleep... and no nightmares came... How?
"Sorry... I guess your old man tendencies are starting to rub off on me, pulling all nighters doesn't work anymore." I shrug, and he laughs, his voice deeper, heavier than normal.
"Good... You shouldn't be pulling all nighters as much as you do anyways. If I'm the reason you fall asleep then we need to have sleepovers more often Darling." He gives my ankle a squeeze, and pushes from the couch. "C'mon.." He mumbles, and I pick up my phone, noticing the time.
"Shit.. Bowie is going to be so angry at me.." I mumble. It's eleven. I haven't started my day this late since at least a year ago...
"Your cat will be just fine.."
"You don't understand.. Bowie is not a normal cat, he knows... he knows all." I warn Harry, and he shakes his head.
"He's not going to notice that you're not home a few hours later than usual." He mumbles, walking into the kitchen, going straight to his cabinets. He starts pulling out things, setting plates down, getting stuff ready. I sit down on one of the stools at the island in the middle of the beautiful space.
"He already noticed I didn't come home last night so the fact that I am coming home so late the next day he will know... You're going to be on his bad side, and I can promise you that's the last place you want to be." I mumble, and he shakes his head.
"You're something else... You know that?" He asks, and I smile. "Also...I lost the competition... yesterday... I can't believe I just admitted to losing... Anyways, I-"
"I want to see you saturday... If.. If you're still wanting.. Wanting to.. To you know, see me, and-"
"I do... You don't have to be so nervous Darling. You can always speak your mind, your heart.. Anything you want to say can be said here. You don't have to feel intimidated." He reminds me, and I know that. I know that this is a safe place for my thoughts, and feelings, but it's still hard for me. It's hard for me to not fear rejection, or humiliation. I think it's hard for anyone.
"'Don't be intimidated' says the most intimidating person I've ever met.." I mumble, and he looks straight at me.
"I am not... Intimidating.." He points a butter knife at me, and I smile a soft grin. I shake my head, and brush the whisps of hair out of my face.
"You say not to be nervous, but you have no idea how.. Well how not nervous I am around you compared to how I am around everyone else. This is the most... this is the most open I've ever been around anyone... Especially someone I just met..." I tell him, and he looks at me, holding toast in his hands. He holds his stare for a few seconds, taking in what I just said, almost as if he's lost in whatever he's thinking. He shakes his head, getting out of his thoughts, looking back to the toast.
"Does that make you nervous?" He asks, and I tilt my head.
"What?"
"Getting close to someone." He pushes on, and I nod my head.
"It does... A lot of stuff makes me nervous, but all of it has to do with people.. Human interaction... Getting close to someone makes me feel like I've got more to lose if I'm being honest." I look down to my hands, fumbling them softly.
"I think what you need is someone to crack open that shell that you're hiding under...."
"Are you insinuating that you are that someone?" I ask, and he walks around the counter, passing me a plate, sliced apples, and toast, almond butter spread across it.. Just how I do it at home.
"That is exactly what I'm insinuating." He takes a bite of his own toast, and walks around me to sit next to me. I look at his chest, noticing the tattoos more now than last night. Last night I saw them, but they were shadowed, and dark. Now they're in complete view.
"You've got a lot of tattoos..." I mumble in between bites, and he looks down.
"Oh.. Yeah, I've been.. I've been getting more and more each year, s'almost an addiction at this point.." He tells me, and I take the ones on his arm in, looking at the intricate sleeve of miscellaneous designs, and images.
"Do you regret any of them?" I ask, and he shakes his head.
"No.. Even if some of them are dumb, they all have memories behind them.." He tells me, and I nod, still eyeing them.
"Do you have any tattoos?" He asks, and I nod my head, eating my toast. "What, and where?" He asks, and I set my plate down, standing up. I pull on the waistband of the sweatpants revealing the soft lettering right on my hip bone. "Fine line... What's it mean?" He asks, and I smile, pulling the waistband back up.
"Writing music has always been part of who I am... So many words, so much meaning behind each lyric, each word... But all of it, every bit of it defines me.. All the words I write mean something to me.. There's good lines... there's bad lines... then there's the fine lines..." I tell him.
"And what are the fine lines?" He asks, and he's interested, completely enveloped in what I'm saying.
"The fine lines are the lines that to everyone has their own meaning behind... Everyone takes them, and perceives them differently.. They're the lines that everyone sees, everyone loves, everyone hates, everyone cries over.. They are the lines that hold the world within them for so many different reasons. The fine lines are the ones that mean the most to me because I'm the only one who knows their true meaning.." I tell him, and he just stares at me, his eyes are full but I don't know what of. "What..." I mumble.
"How do you think of yourself... If you could pick one word, what would it be? Be completely honest with me, no bullshitting me." He asks me as if it's the most important thing in the world.
"Normal... I guess.. I don't really know I just... I'm normal." I shrug, and he shakes his head, laughing. His hands run through his hair, and he brings them down, holding his face as if he can't believe my words.
"You.. Darling, I've really never met anyone like you...I.. I can't explain it.. But you need to know you're anything but normal, and I mean that in the best way possible." He tells me, going back to his food.
"I.. I don't know how.. Um-" I start fumbling over my words. Not used to the compliments, or the acceptance, and he looks at me.
"How would your parents have described you?" He asks, and I don't look at him, the nervous feeling heavy in my chest.
"Quiet, docile maybe... I'm-I'm not really sure." I tell him. "Maybe creative... Yeah.. My mom would have said creative for sure." I smile, knowing she always loved the artistic parts of me.
"And Dean... What would he have described you as?" He asks.
"Nice... He would have said I was nice.. He always said that to me, when he was telling other people about me he said that I was one of the nicest people he'd ever met." I tell him, knowing that was his favorite word when it came to me.
"Nice..." He repeats the word back, but I can't tell if it's a good or a bad thing the way he speaks it. I finish my food, and take my plate around the counter, going to wash it off, and put it in the dishwasher.
"I should go... I have some work to do today.." I tell him, and he nods.
"We're all meeting at the studio Saturday morning... I can. I can pick you up and we can go together, come back here after if you're alright with that.." He mumbles, and I nod.
"Sounds perfect." I tell him, pretending I'm not nervous over the fact that everyone will be there.
"You're nervous..." He notices.
"I'll be fine.." I shrug it off, and he smiles.
"The song we finished last night.. Meet Me In The Hallway.. I don't know I just know that with you there, there's no way we're not going to kick ass that day. Everything is going to just be.. It'll be great." He tells me, and he gets excited when talking about music. I love seeing him get excited, his cool exterior melting away somewhat.
I start collecting my things, getting them ready. Harry and I walk together, moving to the front door, and though part of me tells me no.. I can't stop thinking about the questions he asked. I can't stop thinking about the describing words, the words I'm defined by... but one question stands out amongst them all.
"I will see you Saturday.. Please extend my warmest apologies to Bowie, I'll make this up to him." He smiles, and I back away softly from the door. He starts to turn away, and I go for it, telling myself there's no use in holding back, just like he said.
"Harry..." I speak up, and he stops, raising his eyebrows at me.
"Did you forget something love?" He asks, and I shake my head, mustering up the courage to ask the question..
"What... What word would you describe me as?" I ask, wanting, hoping for a serious answer, but he just shakes his head looking down which only makes me laugh. "A mistake on my part... Should've known you wouldn't answer." I smile, playing it off as a joke despite the pull on my chest. I wish he would answer anything.. Anything at all.
"Darling.. I want to answer your question.. I really do, I just can't" He tells me and I nod.
"I understand, it's no big-"
"I can't because there's.. There's no way in the world I could pick just one..." He shocks me with this, and I feel my cheeks burn hot. I feel myself looking to my feet, the butterflies in my stomach bursting from their cage.
"I'll.. I'll see you Saturday.. Goodbye Harry Styles." I smile at him, and I can see the cheeky smile as I glance at him while he stands in this doorway. I turn away from him, and start walking down the steps.
"Darling...." I turn back to him. "I hope you know that nice, quiet, and normal aren't the words I'd use for you..." I'm curious to know.. I want to know, I want to ask, but he's said so much. He wouldn't say more though, I know it. "I'll see you Saturday Darling Summers." He mumbles. I walk away smiling, feeling that warmth inside me as I do. I'm not one for being late, for messing up, for getting things wrong... but I'm so happy I got things wrong that day.. I'm so glad I stayed late in the studio, and I'm so glad I met Harry Styles.