Love and Fame (Harry Styles)

Chapter 27

Weeks passed by and I didn't have any other human contact than the phone calls with Niall and the brief meetings with food delivery people.

I hadn't even called Mom or my brothers to tell them I was back home. They still believed that I was in London, happy and in a loving relationship. Which, of course, I wasn't.

I had such deep and dark circles under my eyes that I feared they would never fade away. I didn't sleep much. I couldn't sleep without Harry's strong arms around me, and since he wasn't around, it resulted in no sleep at all.

I didn't eat much either. I had expected that I would be the kind of heartbroken person who would eat my feelings, but I was quite the opposite. I had actually lost weight since I had returned to New York. If I was generous, I might eat twice a day, but usually it would be even less than that.

I hadn't changed out of my clothes since I returned home. I had been taking showers regularly because I liked crying when the hot water would conceal my tears, even if no one could see me cry anyway, but when I exited the shower I always put Harry's faded t-shirt back on.

He had forgotten the t-shirt when he had lived with me a few months back. And it was the only thing I had that was his. There was no way I was taking it off or washing it. It still smelled like him...

Somewhere in between my heartbroken haze, I learned that our single had been nominated for some award. While that would have sent me dancing and cheering a few weeks back, I was too sad to even care now. I didn't even bother figuring out what award it was.

It didn't matter anymore. Without Harry, I didn't even want to continue making music. It didn't matter if I had finally succeeded in the music industry, I didn't want it anymore.

People would occasionally call me, but unless it was Niall or one of the other boys, I wouldn't pick up. I always desperately grabbed for the phone when it vibrated though, hoping that it would be Harry. But it never was.

One morning, when March was rapidly approaching, my phone vibrated early in the morning. It had been one of the first nights in ages I hadn't slept restlessly, and I hated the person calling to wake me up.

It was Modest! Management.

I debated for a second whether I should answer it or not, but in the end I did. They would just keep calling until I did anyway, resulting in me being woken up again and again.

"Hello?" I said, my voice hoarse from disuse.

"Talia, it's Lisa," Lisa said on the other end and I made a wordless sound to let her know I was listening. "As you probably know, the tour resumes in March, and we want you to tag along again."

Fuck, I had completely forgotten about the tour.

I couldn't go now. It would be unbearable to be around Harry when he didn't want me there anymore.

"Yeah..." I said and trailed off before I cleared my throat. "I don't think I can make it."

"What do you mean you can't make it?"

I didn't even know if the world knew that Harry and I were broken up yet. I hadn't heard anything of it, and I was not about to spill the news to my boss.

"It's just not a good time right now..."

"That's too bad, but you're gonna have to do it anyway," Lisa said sternly and I took a deep breath because I knew what was coming next. "You wrote a legally binding contract when you signed with us, I'm afraid. If you don't comply, we can take extreme measures to force you."

"How extreme measures?" I asked, wondering if the punishment would still be better than going on tour with my ex.

I had never really admitted to myself that Harry was my ex, and just thinking the word now made tears form in my eyes again. As if I hadn't cried enough lately.

"We can take you to court."

Well, that settled it... I was going back on tour with the boys. Which meant that I would have to live on a crowded bus with someone who thought I had been unfaithful.

A few hours after the phone call with Lisa, I found myself at the airport. I wasn't sure if what I was about to do was a good idea, but I had to see Harry before the tour. We had to talk.

It was the first time I was out in weeks, but I had managed to clean up. I had showered, covered my pale and exhausted features with makeup, changed into a clean t-shirt and jeans, and had made sure to have a decent lunch.

I kept my head down so that no one would see and recognize me. I managed to avoid the groups of teenagers that were most likely to know me, and finally slid safely into my seat on the plane.

The entire way from New York to London, I frantically tapped the armrests with my nails, anxious to land. I probably seemed insane and I knew that I was bothering the people around me, but I couldn't help it. I had to do something to keep my emotions under control.

I took a cab from Gatwick and as I put my seatbelt on, I prayed to God that Harry was home.

He wasn't.

The door was locked when I got there. For a second, emotions overwhelmed me and I wanted to cry again, but then I took a deep breath instead and sat down on the stairs outside.

I only sat there for about half an hour, spending all of the thirty minutes picturing different scenarios of what would go down when Harry turned up.

In the end, I abruptly stood up and decided to check into a hotel for a few days. I needed to sort things out and I needed to figure out what to say to him. I wasn't ready to meet him just yet.

I turned to pick up my suitcase and guitar case, and walked onto the sidewalk. And then I stopped dead in my tracks and dropped my cases to the ground again.

Harry was standing in front of me, his hands in his pockets and a look of disbelief on his angelic face.

He was as beautiful as ever, but he still seemed a bit worn. He had probably had a hell of time without me too. If he had taken the breakup as bad as I had, there was no wonder that he was missing some of his usual glow.

My heart was racing uncontrollably and I could barely breathe as the love of my life realized that I was actually there.

We faced each other for a long time and I felt like saying something, but I didn't know what. So I just stood there with my tongue tied and my body tense.

I was waiting for Harry to snap. I was waiting for him to be angry with me for coming back. At the very least I was waiting for him to walk away without as much as a word.

And just as the wait was too great and I was on the verge of a breakdown, Harry gently picked my guitar case up off the pavement and carried it inside.

I just stared after him, paralyzed.

What the hell was going on?

"Are you coming?" he said quietly from the darkness inside the hallway, and I numbly stumbled after him.

"Harry... I..." I stuttered when I was standing in front of him again, not certain of what this was or what to do with the turn of events.

Was this Harry forgiving me? Or was this Harry bringing me inside to not cause a scene for the lurking paparazzi to see?

"I know," Harry said and I stared blankly back at him because I had no idea what he was getting at. "I was wrong. And I'm sorry."

"W-what?" I said and felt tears stinging in my eyes because this was too good to be true.

Was he being serious? I could barely breathe as I waited for Harry to continue.

"I was wrong," Harry repeated in his usual slow matter. "I was stupid. And I'd like to try again, if you can find it in your heart to forgive me?"