Chapter Three

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Hello, hello <3 Another chapter!

This one may feel like a filler, but I promise we're getting to the good stuff soon.

Let me know what you think! Dying to know!

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Callie Lyon

When Jack left me my final assignment, I knew the items on that list would become immortalized in my mind. Hidden behind a protective plexiglass of memory as the frequent focal points of my wandering thoughts.

I'd continuously pour over the poem he wrote, analyzing each word as if I'd somehow unlock new meaning and understanding of my brother. I'd keep The Iron Giant downloaded on all of my devices for the moments when I need to revisit that small sliver of childhood suspended in the comforting animation. I'd listen to Dizzy On the Comedown by Fine Line over and over until the words practically branded themselves onto the interior walls of my heart.

Anything to feel closer to Jack. To feel like he was still here, if even for a moment. The items on that list are all I have left of him.

To me, they were like holy scriptures. Living far beyond the painfully short time Jack spent on earth. I'd revisit the words and the moving images for guidance in hopes of finding answers. Why did he do this? Could I have saved him? How the hell do I move forward?

It had been exactly five years and I am still no closer to finding answers than I was on that horrible day.

So, to see Harry Styles, the man who actually crafted one of the items on Jack's list, right in front of me. On the exact day Jack left us, nonetheless. It feels like seeing a ghost appear right before my eyes. For a split second, it is as if Jack himself is standing right in front of me. It is confusing, borderline painful, and incredibly surreal. As if a whole new light might be shed on the answers I have been so desperately seeking.

I'm not one to typically believe in signs from the universe or anything like that, but seeing Harry Styles in the flesh feels like some sort of divine intervention.

However as quickly as the realization of who exactly I was face to face with and what that could potentially mean settled into my psyche, I wrangled the stampede of emotion and shoved it down.

Despite how momentous this feels on my end, Harry has absolutely no idea. How could he?

Don't make this weird, Callie. He doesn't owe you anything.

So, I swallow all the irrational questions that initially leapt to the forefront of my mind and step forward instead.

"Harry Styles?" I ask despite knowing exactly who he is.

He watches me carefully, green eyes panning my face. Vulnerability pulls at my chest in absence of my usual, carefully constructed mask of indifference. I am usually so good at keeping my emotions on lock. But he seemed intrigued, so when a soft smile pulls at his lips, I feel a sense of relief.

He nods slowly in confirmation, "and you are?"

"Callie...Callie Lyon" I reply, eyes darting to the floor as I feel a heat rush up my neck.

I focus on the tips of his scuffed up black vans, accented by the slim-fit black trousers cuffed at the ends that allowed a sliver of his inked ankles to be on display. I tried to not make it obvious as my eyes quickly travelled up his body, not allowing my gaze to linger on the silver rings that adorn his black painted fingers or the way his crisp white t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders.

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