Georgia’s POV
Uncontrollable sobs wracked my entire body. The poor cab driver kept glancing back, no doubt wondering how strung out I was, but all the while trying to offer me a handkerchief with a panicked look in his eyes. I gratefully accepted the slip of cloth, wiping my eyes furiously, embarrassed and hiccuping, unable to squeak out an apology.
I couldn’t help it. The reality of what I’d done had only just begun to settle in my head. Liam was gone. My beautiful prince of a boy. The worst part was, I’d pushed him away. Cut the final string. I'd been an autumn leaf, taken against my will. And I had no one to blame but myself, for I’d been selfish. I'd known how it would all end, and yet, here I was.
I allowed myself of minute of reminiscing. I tried to be objective, not allowing simply the wonderful memories run through my hands, but also the little fights, the times I’d gotten annoyed with him, and they sifted about as well. I tried to see it all for how it really was, deciding if it all was as good as I thought. It all swirled in my mind, slipping through the cracks like sand.
I let my thoughts linger on a bit of him at a time, slowly, trying to let each thing go as they passed, scene by scene. The soft curl of his slightly damp hair, wickedly long eyelashes, really unfair for a boy, fanning out around warm eyes, crinkled with his perpetual wide smile, small scar on the right side of his mouth that would stretch white when he’d yawn, gentle, calloused hands, encasing mine, ensnaring my waist, resting on my face, lightly placed on my back, tangled in my hair, like everything else about him, strong and steady.
And then I realized, hunched over myself in an ordinary black cab, crawling through the London sprawl, that even the bad memories were good, because in the end, it was always Liam and I, in the quiet moments where we didn’t say anything, and yet said everything, together and happy. At least, happier than I’d ever been. And the thought was so crippling that for a second, I couldn't think. Wrapping my arms around myself, I held on tight, hoping to hold myself together through sheer willpower. Before then, the only time the inside of me had experienced such devastation was when Nana slipped away from me.
But I also knew I couldn’t bring myself to regret any of the time I’d spent in his heart. He was too dear to me, and the short time I was allowed with him was more than I deserved. The only regret I had, weighing on my chest like a stone, was any pain that I’d selfishly caused him. I thought about the 'what ifs'. What if I’d walked away when I should have, after the phone call that tilted my world on its axis? What if I’d done what I’d always done best and just stuffed all of my emotions into their little box in my heart? What if I’d never come here? I’d take it all back to spare Liam from pain, but I knew that I couldn't and I didn't regret the time.
The cabbie stopped on the curb of an ordinary looking office building. I sat in the back of the cab, attempting to collect myself. Finally and reluctantly, I handed him back his handkerchief, slightly damp but no worse for the wear, and a handsome tip, and stepped onto the fairy dusted sidewalk. I pulled my off-white knit hat lower over my eyes and, out of habit, stuck out my tongue to catch the fluffy white flakes. This type of snow was pure magic, and I should be out enjoying it, my first real winter in years, for in Florida there wasn’t even any need for fireplaces. Today, however, after catching a few fat drops on my tongue, I shook my head, reminding myself of what waited on the other side of the heavy doors.
I squared my shoulders, determined not to let them see that they had bested me, far beyond what I’d expected. They did something I wasn’t expecting when I first received my marching orders.
They’d allowed me time. Time to let my guard down, to believe they wouldn’t really come through on their side of the deal, and therefore I wouldn’t have to go through with mine. Time for Liam to lodge himself in my life, and for my feelings for him to grow and deepen. It wasn’t fair to me, to keep me on pins and needles for my entire relationship with Liam, and it wasn’t fair to him to keep him in the dark about the whole thing.
Many times, I’d had half a mind to call and tell them just that. Give them a real "piece of my mind;" as Amelia would say. I'd feel strength coursing through my veins, and be halfway through dialing the number when I'd chicken out. I’d remembered the pure ice in Michael’s voice as he told me I’d be responsible for crushing Liam’s dreams, and a shiver would run down my spine. I’d set down the phone too quickly, backing away like they would hurt him just because I’d been thinking about defying their strongly-worded “requests.”
I approached the door and, throwing my weight into it, it squeaked open, letting a blast of warm air into the winter weather.
I’d only been into the place once before, but the way to where I was going was ingrained in my mind. The plastic receptionist smiled too widely and chirped a chipper greeting, grating my already frayed nerves.
I reached out to summon the elevator, noticing detachedly my hand, which was shaking like a leaf. Disinterestedly, I realized that my whole body was shaking like a leaf. I stepped into the elevator, and it whisked me up and up. I got off, feet sinking into the carpet of the sterile lobby of the seventh floor. In a fog, I allowed my reluctant feet to drag me to my destination.
The door to the airy conference room seemed bigger, heavier, more solid than the last time I was there. It took me a great deal of effort to push it open, even heavy as my limbs felt.
The six heads in the room popped up upon my arrival. My eyes moved from one set of eyes to the other, knowing I must look like hell but seeing no sympathy from any of the seated suits. Then my eyes fell upon Harry’s familiar green ones, filled with compassion and pity, and I almost lost it again.
A small shake of his head and I somehow managed to send my emotions into their box. I took a breath, willing strength into my lungs as I met Michael’s expectant eyes, coldly glittering with cruel satisfaction. All his little robots, doing his bidding, just perfectly. Finally he was back in total control. For a moment, I was more angry than I was upset, and I considered springing across the oaken table and throttling the smirk off his face. But seeing no way in which that would end well, I simply spoke, surprised at how steady my voice sounded.
“Its done, we're done, and I am done. Are you done with me?” I asked, putting my hands in front of me. I had nothing else to offer if he decided he wasn’t happy. He’d already made me give up so much, and for what?
“Yes, quite. Oh dearie, don’t look so down. It will all end up for the better! The boys album is already projected to go to number one in seven countries, and the story of your break-up, which will be plastered about internationally oh, well, tomorrow, will only help.” His smile was a mask, and full of malice. He held a mock up of the cover of The Enquirer. The picture was grainy, of Liam on his knees in the snow, outside his apartment building, looking after a cab, no doubt the only I had so hastily leapt into. The headline was nasty, but I was used to it. It was the picture, and the one-time truth of the message, which caused shame, sorrow, and anger bubble up inside of me.
All of a sudden, Harry pounded the table, jumping to his feet, something like a growl ripping from his throat.
“I always knew you were sick, Michael.” His voice grew deep and deadly serious. “I just didn’t realize how sick. Bastard.”
“I realize your opinion of me has lowered substantially in light of the current situation, Mr. Styles;” Michael began, turning the wrath of his gaze upon Harry; “But I’m quite unaffected by the names you call me. All that is of any consequence to me is whether or not you do as I say. And right now, I say that you go along with the hoax, and keep it to yourself. If it ends up where this picture is;” He said, holding up the cover of the magazine and chuckling; "Well, then, we'll have a real problem on our hands, won't we?"
Harry opened, closed, the re-opened his mouth, looking a bit like a goldfish. I moved to his side, calmly taking his arm. His breath came in short huffs, and his fists were clenched, his classic “angry and getting angrier” stance. I tried to soothe him, but he was having none of it.
“You can’t treat her like this. Or him. They are my best friends, and if you think I’m simply going to stand back and let you ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to either one of them, then you’re sorely mistaken, Mr. Nitola. It may not be now, or even soon, but one of these days, you’re going to have to answer for ruining good people’s happiness. And I hope it’s at my hand that you have to pay.” Harry growled, tone and face promising the truth of his words in a way that his words couldn’t. I’d never heard him speak like this, so completely taken over by anger. The tips of Michael Nitola’s ears were turning red.
“Harry Styles.” I said lowly. "Look at me." I took his arm. “ Look at me! Can we just get the hell out of here?” I asked. He broke eye contact with the press team, dropping his gaze to meet mine. I was struggling, tears threatening to resurface, and his features softened immediately.
“Of course, George. God, I’m such an ass.” He apologized promptly and quietly. He glanced back at the five people across the room, asking in a hard voice; “I assume you’ve caused all the damage on your list today? We’re leaving now.”
He placed an arm warmly around my shoulder, then began leading me gently to the heavy door. Suddenly, heavy footfalls pursued us, then a hand gripped my arm and I was spun to meet the cold eyes I’d come to dread, even in sleep. I sucked in a breath, and a spiteful smile was slow to spread across his lips. Not for the first time, cold fear hardened in my chest, just from the thought of him coming any closer.
“Miss Kane, I don’t think I have to stress to you the importance of all of this staying under wraps. And I also don’t think I have to remind you of the consequences if something should happen to... slip out. Because it’s quite easy for something to slip out of me as well. Like the proverbial pink slip. Be sure you hold that close. Good day.” His grip loosened, and try as I might, I knew the fear I was feeling had crept into my eyes. He only seemed to take more joy in my discomfort. I simply nodded once, quickly, more a bob of a head than a nod, then spun on my heel and rushed out, hearing Harry’s steps close behind mine.
~~~
I didn’t stop until I hit the pavement, and there, I sunk into an incomprehensible puddle of myself, blubbering worse than ever and weak in the knees. Harry, for his part, was wonderful. He knelt beside me, murmuring comfortingly and stroking my snow-dusted head. When I finally calmed down enough to become coherent, we were both shivering so hard, we could barely even speak.
Harry pulled out his phone and began dialing. I heard a tacit conversation, and then he pulled me up by the elbow, securing me under his arm and starting off down the quiet street.
Minutes later, a familiar black car pulled up to the curb beside where we were walking. It stopped and, much to my surprise, Paul and Niall jumped out. I looked at Harry, frightened and shocked at what I thought he’d done. He just nodded and said; “I had to tell someone. I’ll explain later.”
Paul came first, smothering me with a bear hug and telling me how sorry he was and how he’d do anything to fix it for me. I half-laughed, half-sobbed, and told him quietly that there wasn’t anything to be done, but thank you Paul and I love you. He just set me down, tweaked my nose, and said; “There’s always something to be done, sweetheart.” Then he turned to Harry and began asking a million questions, so I had no doubt in my mind that Paul had absolutely nothing to do with this.
Niall popped up in front of me, pulling three candy bars from his pockets, including a half-eaten one. I looked at him, suspicious, and he laughed a bit, although sadly, and said; “Ya need ‘em more than I do.” I took them slowly, eyes filling up a bit. Then I was attacked by a Horan hug, and there’s no other way to describe those other than suffocating. But he buried face in my neck and whispered; “I’m sorry, Georgie. I really am. But it wasn’t your fault. And we’ll fix it. You two are, well, you two! Ya hafta be together” The last bit was muffled, said in a whisper into my hair, but I appreciated it more than he would ever know.
“Thanks, Ni. I love you.” I said, then sighed. I looked at Harry, still in deep converation with Paul.
“Harry? Can you take me home?”
“Of course, babe. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”
~~~
Hi everyone! I know, I suck, I'm sorry. I've been sick and I lost power and internet and I just want to get back on a regular schedule again. :( boo. Ok well here's your regular Sunday update, and there should be another one coming toward the end of this week, and then another next Sunday, since American Thanksgiving is this week and I have Wednesday-Sunday as break! Anyways. I hope you like this chapter, it isnt as long as I wanted it to be, but I ended up liking it :) Comment what you would like to see happen next, and the next update may be quite a bit longer... hehe :) love you all.
ALSO 10,000 reads!!!!! YOU ARE THE BEST MWAH MWAH