In This World (Harry Styles)

20

(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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Fallen star on this Earth

Fallen angel, what's your worth?

You're my fire, you're my spark

You're my savior, you light up the dark

I Want What You Got – Palace

October 2020

Iwakuni, Japan

GRAY

Christ, I was knackered. Fancied a bit of a coma right about now. I could seriously sleep for weeks on end to recuperate from all the traveling we'd done lately. Most recently we'd had a long day driving home from Hiroshima, a mission we'd embarked on in the wee hours to visit the temples and the old re-built castle, and he'd been eager to photograph the A-Bomb Dome in particular. He feared at one point it might still be radioactive, but that was rubbish. I assured him we were safe, unlike the time I'd lied about us being safe while demon hunting. Bloody hell, I didn't think we'd actually find anything! But we had. Crickey, that could've ended quite badly to be perfectly honest.

Fortunately, luck had been on our side, and I'd gotten a real kick out of the whole thing. Hadn't had as much fun in years as I'd had with this bloke these past few weeks. Although unfortunately, the prized photo had been ruined by my exuberance that night. Ol' demon Freddy turned out to be just dark blur on the film due to me startling H right when he'd been snapping the photo. Ta, mate. Great going, ya bloody imbecile. But that's just me. The biblical fuck-up. He took it all in stride though, because he was the forgiving sort. He said we could always go hunting again someday. Man, I loved how easy-going he could be.

That camera had certainly been broken in quite well. He hardly ever put it down, which I found endearing. He sometimes brought it into the loo with us, and liked to film me in various states of work, meditation, and undress. Loads of photos of me in bed asleep too, which he thought I didn't know about, but I'd seen the negative film strips, little pervert. He even photographed me whenever I was annoyed with him, ducking behind the furniture like a Natgeo shutterbug stalking a pack of lions through the Sahara. And, man, he was a real museum junkie too, and an exceptionally curious kid. An unabashed history buff and obsessed with art of all forms, none of which was safe from his vintage lens. It opened my eyes a bit, I'll admit, and made me appreciate the adventure inherent in discovering the past. I made sure to take him to all the places I'd been infatuated with when I was younger, which ultimately drove me to move here permanently after things fell apart back in Melbourne.

Here he was, this massive popstar with his whole life ahead of him, and so bloody inescapably young he ought to have only been focused on rooting as many stunners as he could get his hands on, but he'd chosen to stay here with me instead. An old, lonely fool who did nothing but slow him down and drag him kicking and screaming into sobriety. Yet he stayed and stayed and there hadn't been any talk of him leaving anytime soon. He was content with me, or so he'd said, and happy to peruse sacred sights all the live long day. Collecting photos to show his children and his children's children down the line. Learning all he could about the history of the land and its unmatched beauty and its ancient relics, right by my side.