Tilly's POV
August 29th, 2017
"I miss you." I whisper into the phone as I lay alone in my bed staring at the ceiling in the darkness of my room.
"You've said that a few times..." Harry chuckles into the phone and I sigh, biting down on my lip. I can't cry, I told myself that I wouldn't. The bedside clock reading, '2:56am'.
"I can't say it enough." I say back to him and the phone line goes silent, his soft breathing heard on the other line.
It's been over three months since I've seen Harry and I miss him terribly. Everything reminds me of him and no matter how hard I try to escape my sadness I can't, and it pains me. I roll over to face my side and look out the window onto the city lights, I tug at the white button up I took from him in Rome as it sits open, unbuttoned.
"Where are you?" He asks me and I trace my fingers along my collar bone, remembering where his fingers were.
"At home. Well, in L.A." I mumble into the phone.
"I wish I was with you." He says with an exhale.
"Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"I don't want to be alone." I whisper.
"Tilly..."
"Please, Harry. I need you." I say, begging him.
"What if someone sees?"
"It's L.A. baby, someone always sees." He reminds me and I feel the tears begin to well up in my eyes and I inhale sharply, holding the phone to my chest away from my mouth in hopes he won't hear my pain. I sit up in bed, moving to the kitchen to take my cigarettes and walk to the balcony, opening it and feeling the warm summer breeze caress my skin as I stand in a singlet, underwear and my love's button up.
"I worked so hard for all of this to slap me in the face." I say.
"No, you we're emotionally manipulated into it Matilda. They used what they knew would get to you." Harry tells me and I take a cigarette from the deck, lighting it and pressing it to my lips.
"Hey, look out onto your balcony." I say and I hear shuffling on his end of the call.
"What is it?" He asks, his voice obviously tired from staying up late these past few nights on the phone with me, I feel guilty for it but I don't know how I can possibly get through the days without his calls.
"Do you see the stars? We're both looking at the same sky right now." I whisper as I stare into the darkness of the early morning sky.
"There's barely any stars." He says.
"Do you see those two little stars twinkling? They're just right to the moon. That's us... and whenever you look up to them, no matter where you are, they're gonna be there. Just like us." I whisper, drawing from my cigarette.
"I love you." He says and I drop my head as I rest my arms on the balcony, phone pressed to my ear and a cigarette in the other hand.
"I love y-you too, Harry." I say unsuccessful in hiding my pain from him, my voice breaking.
"Hey, don't cry. Look up to the stars, I'm right there with you." He whispers and I lift my head to look at the two small stars that twinkle back at us and although they're beautiful, I wish I was there with him to see them.
******
March 16th, 2018
I sit at James' kitchen bench, looking at Instagram, surrounded by multiple celebrities ranging from high class actors and actresses to world famous singers and musicians as they all drink until they're delirious. The music is blaring, and I have no clue where James is, so I sit with my gin and tonic feeling so incredibly out of place. I scroll through a few posts until I stumble upon a photo of Harry in a purple blouse and flared black pants with the same lavender detailing as the shirt as he stands in front of thousands of people, a microphone in his hand and a singular spotlight shining onto him with the caption, 'Amsterdam, Live On Tour.' I turn my phone off and place it face down on the bench. This isn't where I'm meant to be, this isn't my place anymore and I don't want to be here. I make my way up to the second floor of James house and into the spare bedroom where I kept my things for the night, wanting to grab them to go home. I twist the door knob and hear fumbling and a gasp, and then my eyes are focused on a shirtless James pulling at his trousers, buttoning them at the waist and a woman with dark hair pulling her skirt back over her hips. My mouth drops and I shake my head in disbelief, turning to shut the door.
"Tilly wait I-"
I quickly make my way downstairs, my hand gliding along the silver railing of the staircase, and to the front of the house, pushing aside dozens of drunk, sweaty people who dance and grind upon one another with drinks in their hands and out to the front of his house. I get my phone out of my pocket and dial Chris to pick me up but before I press the dial button I hear James calling my name so I begin to walk down the street away from him as he follows me, the sound of the party dying as I do.
"Tilly stop!" He calls frantically and I walk faster but before I know it he's got my arm in his grip and I turn my body to look at him, yanking my arm from his grip unsuccessfully.
"James, let go!" I shout and he steps closer to me.
"Tilly, come back inside." He whispers as he looks around the street frantically.
"No! Not happening, James!" I shout again and his grip becomes tighter on my arm making me whine in pain.
"Tilly, you're making a scene, babe..." He mumbles and I shake my head at him.
"James, fuck off!" I shout at him and he lets go of my arm, running his hands through his hair. We stand in the dark street surrounded by mansions upon mansions, a single streetlight shining down on us.
"Matilda, there are paparazzi all around and any second if you're any louder they'll-"
"They'll what, James? Realise we're perfect fucking strangers who don't have any feelings for one another?" I shout back at him and he grabs at both my arms, pressing his fingers deep into my skin.
"James, stop, you're hurting me!" I say to him struggling to get out of his grip.
"If you don't keep your voice down, we're gonna have a problem." He hisses at me darkly and the blue eyes I met all those years ago have disappeared and are now dark, consuming his pupils and I stop moving so much, focusing on his hazy drunk eyes.
"Who was she?" I whisper.
"No one." He says as he lets go of my arms and I stumble back a bit from how hard he let go.
"James, I'm in love with someone and I can't be with him. Why are you allowed to be with her?" I ask, feeling my eyes form tears and I blink away at them hoping not to seem weak before him.
"Fuck sake here we go again, hey." He says as he shakes his head and throws his hands on his head, enlacing his fingers.
"No, it's not fair! He loves me and I love him, yet I'm stuck with you!" I shout back at him and he laughs to himself, I feel the anger surfacing in me and I bite down on my lip shaking my head at the asshole I stand before in the darkness of one of the nicest streets in L.A.
"He doesn't love you; how could he love you, Matilda? He was seen with some other skank for god's sake!" He shouts at me and I begin to walk off, but he grabs at my hips and pulls me into him and I punch at his chest.
"Let go!"
"You wanna fucking know what fair isn't?" He spits at me and I struggle to remove my body from his grip.
"I don't give a shit, let go James!"
"Unfair is having to un-wantingly put up with your shit from day one, love." He says and I stop struggling and look into his eyes, murky and glassy from the alcohol he's consumed all night.
"What did you just say?" I mumble, feeling myself become physically ill in the stomach at his words.
"You heard me. Did you think I wanted to wear that stupid white suit? Fuck no. I did it because your manager and I made a deal, sweep up the pretty new English actress and spark articles from day one. The media ate that shit up, unironically matching for a movie premiere? Yeah, I don't think so, Tilly."
I swallow hard and remember back to our first meeting, he wore a white suit and I wore a white dress.
"No. You're lying." I say as I look to the ground.
"Okay, how'd I get into your room in Paris without a key? Melody gave me a room key, Tilly. God, you're so fucking naïve."
Melody?
"Stop it!" I shout at him, tears rolling down my cheeks.
"It was from day one, Tilly. That contract wasn't unplanned." He mumbles and I move to him and raise my fist to him, making contact at his nose and I watch as he stumbles back groaning.
"Bitch!" He shouts as blood begins to pour from his nose and I shake at my fist, feeling the pain instantly from the impact of his face to my knuckles.
"I considered you a friend! Fuck you, James." I say to him as he stumbles onto the ground and sits on the curb, his hands held to his face as he groans in pain. I turn around and walk away from him as fast as I can down the street, turning around a corner and pulling my phone out to make a call to get me out of here as fast as possible.
"Fucking Scorpio." I mumble to myself as I sit down on the curb, waiting for the car to come pick me up. I sit in the cold, the alcohol keeping me warm... to an extent. The headlights come around the corner and a black car pulls up in front of me and the window of the front seat rolls down and I see the familiar face of Chris Green smiling at me, I return him with a weak smile but I quickly find myself break down completely, choking on my own breathing and tears burning my cheeks, I watch as his face drops as he reaches over to open the passenger door.
"Miss Jackson, what happened?" He asks and I shake my head, my body dropping into the car. I sob and pull my seatbelt on, losing control over my emotions as my head drops down and I press my hands to my face.
"Take me to the airport, Chris. I need to go home, real home." I whimper through sobs and he nods, pulling away from the street.
"It's none of my business, I know that. But if any of my daughters got into the car like this, I'd be extremely concerned and I'd be lying if I said I'm not worried right now, Miss Jackson." He says and I sob, unable to speak.
"Tilly, c-call me T-Tilly, Chris." I say, barely a whisper.
"There's water and tissues in the front glovebox, love." He says and I reach into the glovebox, taking a bottle of water and downing it, followed by tissues as I press them to my face. We drive in silence through the darkness of L.A. on a Friday night until we pull up to the airport.
"I'm in love with someone I can't be with... and I'm about to pay a lot of money to love them. But truth be told, I'd spend every cent I have for him. Have you ever loved someone you can't be with?" I say as I wipe at my sore eyes, dry from crying.
I can buy my way out of this. I'll pay off the contract and I'll fire Melody.
"My wife and I separated after our third child and I thought that I wanted her more than anything, Miss Ja-... I mean, Tilly. But as it turns out, I wanted her to be happy more than I wanted to be with her and although I wanted her so badly, I knew I couldn't hold onto her any longer." He says and I look up at him with a weak smile.
"I'm really sorry to hear that, Chris." I say weakly, a slight sting in my forearms. I lift my sweater up to see what the pain is when my eyes are met with five purple finger prints marked on both of my forearms and I feel a sudden panic rise within my stomach as my throat becomes tight and my hands shake as my fingers gently trace the outlines of each fresh bruise now blooming onto my skin.
"Jesus Christ, who did that to you?" Chris says as he turns in his seat to face me and I feel the car become small, panic rising in my body as anxiety courses and I feel dirty all of a sudden, as if every germ inside the car has made its way to my skin to seek refuge on the grime of the marks left from James.
"Chris, c-can y-you book me a-a f-flight... now. P-please." I mumble through tears as I begin to choke on my breath.
"Absolutely, do you need me to do anything else?" He says with worry as his hands take his phone and books a flight to Manchester.
"I need you to keep this a s-secret. Please, Chris." I say to him and he swallows hard, nodding slowly as he looks into my mascara ruined eyes.
After half an hour of sitting in the car Chris is opening the passenger door and walking me to the terminal which is oddly quiet and less busy considering it's LAX. He hugs me goodbye and I hug him back tightly, whispering a thank you in his ear. I break away and move to the terminal with nothing but my phone, headphones and a Chapstick on me. I pull at the sleeves of my sweater over my hands and tug at my short skirt pulling it down, this won't be the most comfortable ten hours of my life, but I need to go home and get away from this place for a while. I need my Dad.
I get onto the plane and take my seat and the flightattendant comes over to me asking if I need anything to which I decline. Theplane takes off, causing my ears to pop but once we're in the sky the lightsturn off leaving the plane in a darkness. The sound of the plane's engine is oddly soothing. Istare into the sky, riddled with clouds and I press my forehead to the window,searching for the stars.
My eyes see the two stars Harry and I deemed as our own all those months ago and I think of him.
Where is he?
Does he miss me like I miss him?
Is he safe?
I hope he's happy.
I close my eyes and get comfortable as best I can on the plane, preparing for the next ten hours which I hope to sleep for the majority of. Although my forearms hurt and my eyes burn from the tears, I'm going home to love and I'm going home to safety. I'm surrendering everything I have.
I surrender.