In This World (Harry Styles)

35

(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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Goodbye stranger, it's been nice

Hope you'll find your paradise

Tried to see your point of view

Hope your dreams will all come true

Goodbye Stranger - Supertramp

By the time he'd arrived, via cab and three different trains, it was evening. The autumn sun was setting early, leaving us with nothing but dusk by the time he texted and said he was heading to my floor. I had opened a bottle of wine and ordered room service, and set it all up on the dining table in the suite, along with a few romantic candles. I knew I was pushing it, but couldn't help wanting to give him the best of anything I had to offer, and right now, the hotel suite was it.

"Hey," he uttered, when I parted the door with a beaming grin.

He was wearing a mask and a beanie, and that same oversized canvas jacket he'd been in the day of my accident. I knew it belonged to the Aussie, but tried to see past this to simply be grateful for his company. I couldn't even respond to him. I just held my arms wide, realizing we hadn't hugged once since we first ran into each other. He chuckled and shook his head, pulling me in. He squeezed me affectionately for a bit, but I wouldn't let go when he tried to pull away. So he let me hold him as long as I wanted, even burying his face into my shoulder and heaving a weary breath. It shot me straight back to February 2016, when we'd met for the first time at my place in Bel Air, and opened Pandora's Box together. I could recall the way he smelled that day. The way he'd dressed. The sunshine beating down on us. His iced Americano, melting in the heat. My red tank top. His wide-brimmed felt hat. My pink hair. His Audi R8 coupe that he'd trusted me to drive to the doctor's that day. Christ almighty, learning to let go was absolute hell. It was hell. I simply could not do it. If it happened, it'd be over my dead body.

I nearly broke down then and there, but decided to free him at last. He moved into the room and removed his coat and mask, stopping short when he saw the romantically set table.

"Mate..." he sighed, moving away from the set-up like it was cursed. He made his way over to the spectacular view of the downtown skyline instead. I joined him at the balcony and we watched the final moments of the sun sinking beneath the horizon, leaving darkness and traces of its pale, wanning light in its wake.

"Does he know you're here?" I asked at last.

"No. After you left, he went back to Tokyo to finish the job. He should be home tomorrow night, and by then you'll be gone." He shrugged a little. "I won't tell him about any of this. Why give him any grief? He doesn't deserve it. This is the last time I'm doing this, alright? After today, I'm changing my number, mate...and I will not give it to you, so don't bother asking again."

"Understood," I conceded, offering for him to sit for dinner before it got cold. I'd ordered him salmon and vegetables, since I knew he was finicky about meat. He blew out the candles before sitting, killing the vibe, and moved his glass of wine over to my side of the table.

"I'm sober," he drawled, before sitting and eating without me.

"Alright...good to know, fam. Sorry 'bout dat."