(DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. It's important to remember this is all totally fabricated, embellished, and exaggerated for entertainment purposes.)
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"Since Singapore, he started slipping through my fingers at an alarming rate, and everything I did from that moment forward was just an attempt to cling to what was left of him, until finally I was grasping at nothing but air."
When I left, he was livid. I heard him throw something against the wall, hollering unintelligibly. I walked faster so that he couldn't catch up to me in that head-space. Then I took the stairs so I wouldn't have to wait for the elevator, just in case he followed. Midway down the steps my knees buckled, and I sat and wept harder than I had in years. The worst part was the echoes. I'd never heard myself cry so hard. Every sound I made was amplified, and I just sounded pathetic. Later a security guard came down the steps behind me.
"Mr. Styles? You ok? I think it's best if you return to your room." I couldn't look back at him. "Mr. Styles?"
"Yeah, mate. I hear you." I croaked. "Uh, just give me a minute, would you?" I wiped my face with the end of my sleeve.
"Sure." he said. Then, "Here." He offered a cigarette. I took it, knowing it would make me sick. Then he sat beside me and fumbled for a lighter. He was a tall, middle-aged Chinese guy with a close haircut and tired eyes. He had straight white teeth and visible laugh lines. I placed him in his early 40s.
"Han. He said, extending his hand with a smile.
"Harry." I nodded.
When he found the lighter, instead of handing it over, he indicated I should put the cigarette in my mouth. Dumbfounded, I took a second to assess the cigarette and saw that it wasn't a Marlboro. I don't know why, but I just felt like I should do it anyway. I popped it between my lips, wiping my tears and turning to face him. He struck the lighter a few times before it caught, and I noted that his hands were big and red. He had long hair along the knuckles.
First inhale hit like a ton of bricks. Usually, it went down somewhat smoothly, but this thing was just nasty. Nothing like Z's. I hit it again and it was so pungent I nearly gagged. No menthol. No filter. No calming effects. I began to cough and my eyes watered over.
"Easy there." Han said, rubbing my back. It seemed overly familiar and a step too far for hotel security, but I didn't mind it. His hand was huge and heavy, so to be honest it felt good. It slipped up and down my spine, going in broad circles between my shoulder blades. It was all I could do not to lean into it. I hit the cigarette again in hopes that it would take my mind off his touch, but he never stopped.
I'm no idiot. I immediately felt the moment his touch became sensual. His circles grew broader and slower and soon he was rubbing across the small of my back and along my ribs, like Z had been doing only moments earlier. I was afraid to look at Han and read his face—afraid I would see what I already sensed in his touch. My breathing became shallow, so I let the cigarette burn and burn and burn between my fingers, the ash growing so long that it fell off without me thumping the filter.
Zayn. The second I thought of him the effect of the guy's touch began to wane. Why the f—k was he still rubbing my back? I had a choice. I could sit and pretend not to pick up what he was putting down, or I could give him a signal for more.
"How's that treating you?" Han asked, indicating the cigarette. His accent was vague, and I assumed it was a regional twinge I was picking up on.
"Good, I guess." I said, tilting it to watch the tip burn.
"Good." he exhaled, resting his hand, but not removing it from my waist. With his free hand he took the cigarette from between my fingers and finished it off. That crossed a line. It was disturbingly intimate and something I was only used to doing with Z. I turned and watched him take long, expert draws. His eyes didn't squint when he exhaled (like Zayn's). His lips were wet and thin and reminded me of a fish (not like Zayn's).
"You're pretty good at that." I said with a grin.
"Too good, really. Been trying to quit since I was sixteen."
"Oh yeah?" I muttered, picking at my nails where my hands hung out over my knees. Finally, he removed his hand from me.
"You know I've seen tons of singers come through here. Never found one alone and crying before. Can I ask what set you off?" I looked at him absently, remembering the last thing I had said to Zayn. Then I remembered the girl's face. Smartly, I changed the subject.
"How long've you worked here?"
"Four years this May."
"You like it?" I studied the fading tips of my brown boots, and then his. A draft swept up the staircase and I trembled.
"It has its ups and downs. But the team is good. The hours are good. And I can spend time with my wife in the earlier part of the day, then work here during the nights. She loves it, because when I used to work days, she hardly saw me."
"Mm."
"Gotta keep 'em happy." he said. "Whatever it takes. Especially now that she's 6 months along, her mood changes from one minute to the next."
"Pregnant? Cheers, mate. Congrats."
"Thanks." he grinned, finishing off the cigarette and crushing it on the step.
"Girl or boy?"
"Girl, unfortunately." We laughed. "Now I have to worry for her the same way I worry for her mom. The same way I worry for my sister."
"Girls are tough." I nodded. "I've got a sister too."
"You won't believe how many of her dates I've had to threaten." We laughed again.
"Your accent's kind of subtle. You grow up here?"
He had lived in the US growing up because his dad had migrated there to start a business, but when he became ill, they packed up and came back home before he died. Once Han met his future wife, he decided to stay. As he spoke, he lit another cigarette and we shared that one as well. Then his hand fell onto my back again.
Swallowing thickly, I tried to remain as still as possible. He grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me over slightly and it reminded me so much of Zayn that I felt sick. I played it off and wiggled free with a laugh. Then I leaned back onto the stairs, watching the white lights above us and craning to see the stairwell wind up a dozen floors.
"We've been here a little while." Han acknowledged. "They'll be looking for me." He had cut his radio off earlier because it wouldn't stop picking up interference in the stairwell.
"Yeah, me too." I sighed, having felt my phone buzz nonstop for the last half an hour. Soon it'd be time for soundcheck, which I was debating skipping because I didn't want to see HIS face again.
"You know, if you ever need anyone to talk to about whatever upset you today...you can always reach out." He handed me a card with his full name. Han Xu.
"Great name." I chuckled. "You sound like some sort of mythical character or something.
"Yep. Just like my great granddad. A legend in his own right."
"Was he a good man?"
"Hell no." He laughed. "He was a whoremonger."
He walked me to the elevator and when I got back to my room I set his card on the nightstand. After I showered, I sat in a towel on the edge of the bed and couldn't keep my eyes off his name. Han Xu. I thought of his touch, his heavy comforting hands and his gross cigarettes. I brushed the damp hair back away from my face and thought about calling him right away.
Why did I want to call though? To f—k? Probably. I think I wanted to fuck him out of spite. But Zayn had texted me 13 times, each message increasingly more angry. Before I hopped in the shower, I had texted him what I had been too afraid to say to his face. That he was a f—king liar.
Zayn: "Liar? Really, Harry?" Had been his reply. I let him go on without responding, since I had said all I wanted to say.
Zayn: "Really Harry? Is that how u feel?"
Zayn: "U know what, bro? I'm done."
Zayn: "You know who you sound like? Perrie. You sound just like Perrie right now." I felt all the blood go to my head, boiling in the tips of my ears. I nearly threw my phone against the wall, but refrained. He kept texting, and I kept ignoring.
Zayn: "Ur always telling me how much more u love me than her. Ur always talking about how you'd take care of me. Always talking about what you'd never say to me and sh-t...and now u go and sound just f—king like her!"
Zayn: "I don't need that shit from u." A while had passed before he continued.
Zayn: "She barely even touched me, Haz." He meant the girl from earlier. Finally, he admitted there was something.
Zayn: "Just a BJ that's it." I knew he was still lying, trying to soften the blow. I knew they'd done much more.
Zayn: "I needed it. I couldn't f—king sleep. I was so f—ked up. U were gone."
I could almost see him pacing as he'd written the messages. Angrily smoking. Spitting off the balcony. Watching his phone, waiting for it to ring. It never did and he kept dropping his head and mumbling to himself like he always did when he was upset. The balcony was his thinking place, his venting place, his smoking place. No matter where we were, he always found the nearest balcony and posted up outside, headphones on—sometimes for hours.
Zayn: "She barely f—king touched me. And I didn't touch her at all. I swear to God, babe, u know me. U know who I wanted there instead."
Zayn: Ur all I think about." I lay back on the bed and shut my eyes, starting to itch all over. After a few minutes he sent a new one.
Zayn: "Babe...talk to me. I need u so bad." I couldn't keep ignoring him.
"Hey." I wrote.
Z: "Babe...where'd u go?"
"Getting some air."
Z: "I need you."
"I know."
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"This love is tainted. I need you and I hate it."
Zayn | Fool For You
"Long night." Niall said later that day, seeing how out of it I was backstage before the show.
"Yeah..."
"You look beat."
"Right." He seemed like he wanted to laugh. Zayn brushed past us, fidgeting with his in-ears.
"Niallar." He said, ignoring me. He was in a white t-shirt and black jeans and had kept his hair down today. It tumbled all over the place, hiding part of his face whenever he looked down.
"Zayn, mate." Niall chuckled, perpetually in a good mood. "Last night was nuts, right?! Dem shots got ta me. I hurled so bad afterward..." Liam and Louis approached and things got unruly before the huddle. Louis knocked Liam's hat off his head repeatedly, and Zayn joined in, knocking it off when he least expected it.
"Youz boys gonna own me sixety bucks if this one's dented, mate." Liam popped it off and studied it before setting it back in place.
"Don't worry 'bout it, broh." Zayn said in one of his exaggerated accents, knocking the hat from his head a final time. The fans started screaming, which let us know the intro video had begun.
"You're a bit quiet there, lad." Louis said, noticing I hadn't spoken in the last few minutes.
"Just thinking..." I replied, ruffling my hair.
"Look alive, mate. It's go-time." Liam remarked.
"He's a bit moody, ain't he?" Z remarked, eyeing me and daring me to challenge him in front of the others.
"Yeah, we thought Zayn was the moody one." Niall said, slinging an arm around me. Liam pretended to pinch my nipples and I slapped his hands away with a laugh. Soon we finished our huddle, singing the chorus to Eddy Grant's "Electric Avenue" to warm-up, and then the music started. That was our cue to line up. I had zero f—king clue this would be the last time I ever walked onto a stage with Zayn.
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"The fact that we can sit right here and say goodbye means we've already won...the necessities for apologies between you and me, baby there is none..."
Harry | Walking In The Wind
He looked at me during Little Things, but I couldn't look back. Not this time. Towards the end of the show, we stepped backstage for a break and I changed my shirt. I ran into him at the sound-stage and he wouldn't take his eyes off me, making me fumble a bit. I missed his eyes. They were so fucking pretty when he was sleepy, and tonight they seemed even more tilted than usual.
"How long were you with her?" I asked suddenly.
"Literally like 15 minutes, babe." He replied without hesitation. "No more than 20 tops."
"What'd she do?"
"I told you."
"Tell me again." I ground out.
"She blew me, babe." He said under his breath. "She tried to kiss me, but I wouldn't let her. I swear to God. Youh believe me, yeah?"
"Who was she?"
"No one, babe. Some bird I met at the club. Chatted 'er up a bit. Nothing deep, nothing special."
"But you brought her back. Why her?"
"Yeah..." He averted his eyes. "She was the first girl I saw when I walked it. That's it."
After the show he followed me back to my room and waited while I showered so we could talk. When I came out dressed in a robe, he was sitting at the foot of the bed.
"You're always frowning." He said, mimicking my frown. I pushed him when I came over to the bed, and he fell back, laughing hysterically.
"Babe, youh look so miserable, sometimes. Take it easy!" He grabbed me over to him and kissed my cheek repeatedly, blowing raspberries until I laughed. Later he sobered.
"Baby..." He began, gingerly. "Who's Han?"
"Who?"
"Han...he a manager or somethin'?"
"No one."
"Why's his card here?"
"Where?" I played dumb.
"O'va there." He chucked his chin in the direction of the nightstand.
"Who knows? Why you bothering me? He's just some guy I met."
"C'mon, Haz, get the f--k outta here. Be real."
"Don't be an idiot about it, alright?"
"How'd you meet him?" He was becoming accusatory. Not much could get past him. He was perceptive as f—k.
"Why do you care?"
"Because youh want me to care." He said. "That's why you left the card out. What happened?"
"We just talked."
"Soh youh were with him then, yeah? After you left me?"
"Uh...for a while." At that he looked straight ahead, arms resting on his knees. I could see his jaw flexing in irritation.
"I was crying on the stairs."
"Crying?"
"He gave me a cigarette."
"Youh don't even smoke."
"I know, but I took it anyway." At that he got up to move away from me. "Z, we just talked for a while, then he finished my cigarette." I saw a visible shift in his demeanor. He was ready to explode. For some reason I wanted to see it.
"He took it right from between my lips and put it between his, looking me in the eye the entire time."
"F—k off, bro."
"He was rubbing my back the whole time." To be honest, it felt good to see his frustration after what he'd put me through in Thailand. Especially his tweet apologizing for being caught with a girl, and restating his love for Perrie. Always publicly.
"He kissed me." I lied.
Z looked me, dead-eyed. He was no longer smug or self-assured. He walked out and I let him go, not moving a muscle to stop him. Moments later I looked for Han's card, and it wasn't there. Z had either taken it or destroyed it.
Know that I'm just wasting time and I...hope that you don't run from me.
Harry | If I Could Fly
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