The "Biggest" Fan (EN)

29.

I just stood behind the closed door, pacing nervously, trying to eavesdrop on anything Victor was saying. Not that it was very hard since he was practically screaming.

"What if someone saw you!?"

"They didn't," I heard Harry, his voice steady, but there was a slight wobble.

"You understand that you're risking your whole career for... This!" Victor spat the last word like it tasted foul. He reminded me of Matt. I wondered if Matt would also sound as disgusted and disappointed if he knew the truth.

"I'm keeping it under control. Trust me," Harry said, his voice quieter now but still audible.

"Keeping it under control?" Victor sneered, "By sneaking around with some rando who's already a tabloid magnet?"

"Don't you talk about him like that!" Harry's voice cracked through the door, sharp and furious. My chest felt heavy, guilt curling around my ribs. This was because of me. Harry was in this mess because of me.

"I can't just stand here doing nothing," I groaned, trying to get inside, but Bob stopped me.

"Trust me, Harry can handle Victor. He's been doing it for years," he said flatly, but I could sense a bit of something I hadn't seen in him before. Actual concern?

"But it's my fault. I can't just listen to how he's getting torn apart," I protested.

"Then go home," Bob sighed, "You barging in there? It'll only make it worse."

"Worse? How much..."

I was cut off by the doors suddenly shoving open, almost hitting me. Victor walked out at a fast pace, his face red from yelling, and his eyebrows furrowed even more when he saw me.

"What the hell are you still doing here?!" His eyes pierced me.

"It's not fair for Harry..." I started, but Victor's hand shot up, silencing me.

"It's not your fucking business. You've already done enough," he hissed and turned away before I could even respond, marching back towards Harry, who stood just behind him, still and silent. 

I looked at Harry, searching for something — anything — in his expression. But there was nothing. His face was pale, his shoulders slumped, and his eyes... They were empty. Not anger, not sadness, just exhaustion.

"Harry..." I called after him, my voice cracking.

But he just shook his head, barely a movement, before following Victor down the hall. I stood there, frozen, as the sound of their footsteps faded away. The guilt clawed at my chest, screaming at me that this was all my fault. And I had no idea how to make it right.

---

Every buzz or ding had sent my heart racing over the past few days, but none of them had been the call I was waiting for.

Harry hadn't called. Two days. Two whole days of silence since we last talked.

I kept replaying that last look he gave me in the dressing room. Sad. Resigned. Like he'd already decided he was losing. I hated myself for not doing something, for not stepping in, for just standing there while Victor dragged him away. But what could I have done?

I sat in my room, not going anywhere, staring at the ceiling. I told Lottie I was feeling sick, and luckily, she bought it. I wasn't lying. I felt absolutely sick, my body so heavy I couldn't even force myself to get up to go to the bathroom. I felt empty. Completely empty.

Then my phone buzzed again, and I let out a frustrated sigh, ready to ignore it — until I saw the name on the screen. Harry.

"Harry? Are you okay?" I blurted the moment I picked up.