inspirations // harry styles

chapter thirty-seven // stubborn.

Harry's POV

I listen to the soft hum of the TV echoing in our apartment through the thin walls to my bedroom. Louis and the rest of the lads are sitting in the living room talking with one another, probably about me - scratch that, most definitely about me. I had shut them out of my room once they suggested going out to the club tonight to find someone new.

The mere thought made me want to punch them all in the face. If forgetting Olivia were so simple, would I even be in this position in the first place? I know they're only trying to help, but they can be such idiots sometimes.

At this moment, I really would like to just be alone. Even though all I'm doing is sitting here and torturing myself with thoughts of Olivia, it's better than trying to fake it all in front of others. But, unfortunately for me, I have extremely concerned and loving friends who won't allow that. Ed is on his way here as well.

So I take these few moments to lay down in bed and act miserable because I won't get this chance for a very long time. This week we're finishing the album, next week we're starting rehearsals for the tour, the following week the CD premieres, then it's all tour preparation from there. Tyler had given us the day off - for my sake - but he's not going to be so generous come tomorrow.

My eyes gaze out my window, watching the sun settle into the horizon, snuggling it like it's childhood blanket. My heart aches in protest as the sky gets darker and darker, knowing that leads to only one thing; the stars. I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to look up at the vast night sky and not think of Olivia. Come to think of it, it's nearly impossible to think of anything without it linking to Olivia somehow.

That's why the idea of moving on is so far-fetched and impossible. Even if I look into the eyes of another pretty girl, I'll only see Olivia's, only they won't compare to her beautiful turquoise pools of color.

knock-knock-knock

I hear a soft voice on the other side of my wooden door call out,

"Harry, mate, it's me," Ed says, sounding extremely cautious.

"Come in," I try my hardest to speak loudly without having a voice crack, but I'm unsuccessful.

The wooden door creaks as Ed slowly opens it. My eyes land on my familiar red-headed friend, one that's been there for me since I entered this fame business. Yet instead of all the good times we've shared, all I can think about is Olivia; her immense idolization for him and her lovely singing voice that will be travelling with him on his tour.

Like I said, literally everything links back to her.

Ed shuffles across my room, taking a seat at the edge of my messy, un-made bed. I try my best to dry my eyes to appear at least slightly normal, but it's really no use.

"How'd you make it through this?" I turn to look at one of my best mates, who looks at me with much sympathy.

Ed had his heart broken many years ago as well. Nearly all the songs on his album '+' is about this girl; Alice. He hasn't dated a girl since; it majorly affected him, even if he tries to say otherwise. But he moved on eventually. He's not still stuck in his bed, a sobbing mess, like me.

He takes a deep breath, wracking his brain. I'm sure that part of his life is not a place he wants to ever think about again. He hasn't told me much about that part of his life - since I hadn't met him yet - but from what I do know, he went spiraling downwards.

"I wrote music," He shrugged, "You'd think that's the last thing you want to do in this situation, but it helped me more than I ever thought possible," He admits to me.