Ever Since New York [h.s au]

19

By some miracle Théo managed to help me into my apartment. I went into the bathroom, and I heard him rustling around in the kitchen. I looked in the mirror, mascara stained my cheeks, and my red lipstick was splotchy. My hair was a voluminous mess, but in a way looked good. Even in my drunken state I could tell I was not okay. The person I was staring at in the mirror, she wasn't the person I wanted to be anymore. Hearing Sign of the Times brought back so many memories of the person I was when I was Harry.

That girl, the girl that wrote the album, she was the happiest version of me. She was the version I wanted to get back to. I wondered if Harry was a different person now too.

I closed the bathroom door and locked it. I sat on the toilet lid and typed in Harry's name on Instagram. He had several million more followers than when I checked months ago. His feed was now photos of him on magazine covers, his tour dates, the audience, music videos, then there were the ones of him on tour. He had photos with the band, some of the people I didn't recognize, but Sarah and Mitch posing with him made my heart ache. I forgot how much I missed them. Then there was a photo of him on stage smiling. I still wasn't used to his short hair, I was mad he cut it, but proud he donated it. He looked so grown up, he looked like a real rockstar.

God, he was beautiful. He was happy, he was with his friends, living his dream. While I was drunk in my rented apartment in Paris wasting away my life. It was pathetic really.

I threw my phone on the bed. Then started taking off my earrings, I cursed to myself when one fell under the bed. I bent down and looked for the piece of jewelry. It was lying next to my notebook. After I finished my novel I stopped using it. I forgot it was under the bed. I grabbed it and sat on the bed.

"What is that?" Théo asked.

I flipped it open, "It's basically my brain. Or was my brain. Anytime I had writing inspiration or something I liked, I'd write it here. I never left the house without it. Nearly every song on the album has pieces from this."

Théo's eyes went from the worn out journal to the sheet covering the piano. "Can you still play?"

I shook my head, "I could never really play. I wasn't good, not like. Not like Ha- him." I turned away from Théo. Looking at the words on the page my notebook was open too. A quote from my Shakespeare class, during our 'Romeo and Juliet' week caught my eye.

My professor said "It's called falling in love because you go head first, it's fast. You lose control, and it hurts. You're a mess when you're falling."

I ran to the piano and threw the sheet off. It was as gorgeous as my first day here. I sat down at the bench, I stretched my fingers and placed them on the ivory keys. It felt good, familiar. I looked at Théo, he smiled at me.

I played a few notes until I heard something I liked. It was soft and slow, it was simple. I repeated it several times, thinking about the day I had. The rejections from publishers, laying in bed. Feeling lost, feeling alone. Hating myself.

Then the words came to me.

Maybe it was because I was drunk, maybe it was because I wasn't with him, whose voice was like an angel. Maybe it was because I needed it, but for the first time in my songwriting career I sang.

"I'm in my bed, And you're not here." I looked towards my bar cart, "And there's no one to blame but the drink in my wandering hands."

I hated myself for what I'd become. My fights with Harry all started because he was drinking. I hated that he broke his promise, but I'd broken mine too. "Forget what I said, It's not what I meant, And I can't take it back, I can't unpack the baggage you left."