Diligence [H.S.]

ONE

Chapter Song: the grudge by Olivia Rodrigo

...

HARRY STYLES

December 2020

"At the tone, please record your message."

I sigh heavily in disappointment as I hear the all-too-familiar automated voice for what could easily be the millionth time over the past five and a half months.

My lips roll into my mouth as I glance behind me at the cracked balcony door.

I sniffle as I turn back to look at the city of Tokyo over the railing. Admiring how even when it's late at night, the streets below are still busy, as if it were the middle of the afternoon. I love staying in this area for that specific reason: I can indulge in people-watching constantly—all hours of the day and night.

Even when I'm meant to be sleeping, my mind won't let me as it continues to overthink things I wish it would just let go of. I say that as if I myself have let it go yet.

On nights like this, I just sit outside and watch, jealously, as people go about their own routines while I go about my pathetic one entirely alone. Not that I would let anyone join if they offered. So far, Nate and Mitch are the only ones who know about this, and I wouldn't let either of them sit next to me while I wallow in self-pity.

Nate only found out because he overheard me when we had a quick trip to Italy, and Mitch, well, I opened up about it to him when I felt the most helpless.

I chuckle at myself and shake my head as the stupidity I usually feel when I reach this part of my worst and most unhealthy habit comes around and settles in.

"When you are finished recording, you may hang up or press one for more options."

Beeeep.

As usual, I keep quiet for a few seconds before I take a deep breath to prepare myself for the pathetic speech I'm about to give.

"Hey, Drea," I say painfully, "It's me, Harry...again. But I'm sure you know that already."

My hand anxiously picks at my cuticles, and you would think I was actually talking to her with the unforgiving nerves that continuously take over me when I leave her a message. No matter how many times I do it.

This has been an unfortunate, consistent routine of mine since she's gone radio silent since July. And it's not just with me.

I've asked any and everyone she's connected with since she met me to try reaching out as my worries began to grow. Nate, Sarah, Mitch, Pauli, Gemma, my mum...all of them got the same exact voicemail I listen to weekly. She had not only shut me out but everyone around me as well.

Social media was useless. She hasn't posted anything since July—a picture of her in the park we rode bicycles through—the day before she left. I checked Jo and Oliver's social media profiles, even Noah's, searching for a hint that would ease my concerns, but they were all dead ends. Not a single trace of Andrea.

That was only in the week after she ended our relationship, and it stayed that way as the months went by.

It didn't take long until my weekly phone calls, or should I say voicemails, became a part of my schedule.

I attempted to see her when I had a small dour-day break in my tour, and I made a short visit to Los Angeles. I couldn't wait until September.

I texted and called her, then visited her apartment to try and start a conversation with her. I stood in the hallway for an hour until I decided to give up for the night. I didn't see her car there, but it was worth a shot.