Crazy Little Thing Called Love

Let It Be Or How It's Okay Not To Be Okay

Hi everyone, writing is my therapy and after a long talk with my mum I felt a lot better this morning, so I decided to bless you with another two chapters (I will post the second one in a minute). I hope they will manage to cheer you up a little bit (mostly the second, I think). 

Just as I decided not to include Freddie into this story, I won't include Johannah's illness and passing into this story for several reasons. First of all, this is all fictional, and as much as I am trying to include real-life events, I mainly try to include things that the boys have decided to share with us. Secondly, and much more importantly, it would be the epitome of disrespect to write about Johannah, even if it would fit with where I am in terms of time line. Thirdly, I believe that the beauty of fanfiction is that we can make up stories which we can enjoy reading and writing, while still respecting the privacy and just generally respecting whoever we decide to write about. 

And lastly, on a different note, can we just one for one second appreciate how incredibly brave Louis was last night? He smashed his performance and I have never been prouder of him. And the fact that all of the boys dropped everything to support him shows that they are so much more than 'just a band'. I honestly couldn't be prouder to be a fan of these four young men who are not only insanely talented, but also  just really amazing human beings. Thank you for the lovely replies I received underneath the last picture, I really appreciate your support. All the love, as always, Summer xxx

The day had passed by in a blur of happiness, good conversations and distractions, but every day needs to come to an end at some point. Louis had already left about an hour ago with a big hug and a kiss on the cheek and Harry was in the kitchen cooking us some dinner, after making me a hot chocolate and making me promise to relax for a bit while he was preparing the food. For this reason, I sitting on our sofa, my knees pulled up to my chest, with a fuzzy blanket wrapped around me. It wasn't really cold in the flat, but I needed a feeling of protection and the blanket seemed to provide that to me in that moment. The problem with relaxing was that my mind had the time to think about all the things that I had so desperately been pushing away during the day. 

Outside, the rain was pouring down and inside on the sofa I felt that my eyes were about to let the tears flow, as well, so I bit my lip and tried to push the feeling of overwhelming sadness to the back of my mind. I had been concentrating so hard on trying not to cry, that I hadn't noticed Harry who had entered the room again, two big bowls of steaming soup in his big hands. I also didn't notice the worried look on his face, when he spotted me on the sofa and carefully placed the bowls on the table. Indeed, I only noticed him when he crouched down in front of me and carefully took my hands into his. I jumped a bit and turned my head, my green eyes meeting his.

"Hey, are you alright?" he asked me quietly, his thumb gently caressing the back of my hand. I blinked and took a deep breath, before I nodded. "I'm fine." I managed to squeak out, but we both knew that I really wasn't. "It's okay not be okay, sometimes. It's okay to grieve, love. No one expects you to be happy all the time." He assured me and gave my hands a light squeeze. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked me and I shrugged, then nodded and then shrugged again. Harry, however, seemed to have understood what I was trying to say, climbed next to me onto the sofa and pulled me onto his lap, holding me like a little child while lightly swaying me back and forth. Hot tears silently made their way down my cheeks and wet the fabric of Harry's shirt. His deep voice whispered soothing words into my ear while he let me grieve for one of the most important people I had lost way too soon.

After a couple of minutes, the tears stopped and the only thing that could be heard was our breathing and the sound of the rain hitting the window, my head resting against Harry's chest, falling and rising with every breath he took. "He used to teach me how to play the guitar when I was younger. We would sit together on the porch facing the sea, or in our living room when it was too cold to be outside, and he would teach me all the songs that he loved listening to and playing when he was growing up. He always had a particular love for the sixties and worshiped The Beatles so the first song that I learned was 'Let It Be' which essentially became the soundtrack of my life. When I was about fourteen, he could no longer play the guitar anymore, so we would just sit together and I would play him any song he liked. I used to spent hours in my room practicing his favourite songs when he was at doctor's appointments so that I could play them for him when he got home to cheer him up."

I smiled at the memories and it took me a couple of seconds, before I could continue, but Harry didn't seem to mind. He just let me talk and listened to my stories, while providing the warmth and safety which I so desperately needed in that moment. "He also taught me, more than any other person -perhaps with the exception of my mum- to respect everyone I ever met, no matter if they were sitting behind the check out at the supermarket, or were a big CEO of a successful firm. Because he said, in the end, it doesn't matter how much money you make or how big your house is, if it doesn't fulfill you and makes you happy. And he was the one who has always supported my decision to study politics because he knew that this was what I needed to change the world in my way, one little step at the time. I just wish..." I took a deep breath and I felt Harry press a light kiss to my hair, before I continued. "I just wish, I could have one more conversation with him, you know? I miss him so much, Harry. It hurts so badly. And I know that he wouldn't want me to sit here on your lap and cry, but sometimes I can't be strong, not even for him." 

I felt Harry shift underneath me and he pulled away a little bit, so that he could face me. "Claire, if there is one thing I can know for sure, it's how proud your dad would be of you." He smiled down at me and one of his dimples appeared, automatically making me smile, as well. "I have said it before and I am happy to say it again: You are one of the strongest and most humble people I have ever met. And you can be so proud of yourself for handling everything that life keeps throwing at you the way you do. It's okay to cry, but it's also okay to be happy and sometimes, you feel a little bit of both." He gave me a weak smile and the light in his eyes momentarily seemed flicker a bit, before he continued.

"I couldn't say goodbye to my granddad before he passed away. The last time I saw him was at Christmas and my last memory of him is him standing in the door with my grandma by his side, waving us goodbye as we pull out of their driveway. Because of what I do, I didn't spent an awful lot of time with the people I love during the past few years which is why I am enjoying this break so much. And there isn't one day that goes by where I wonder if I could have spent more time with my family, if I hadn't been in One Direction and just gone to uni, but that's not how life works. You can't have everything in life, you sometimes have to make sacrifices to find true happiness. I know that you feel bad for not spending a lot of time at home either, because you had to work and study so much to live your dream here in London. But that's what your dad wanted for you. He wanted you to go out there and live your dream and he would be so proud of you if he knew that you most likely will be graduating with top marks in a couple of weeks, despite the fact that you lost him."

His whole demeanour was serious and he had a sincerity in his tone unmatched by anything I had heard him say before. "If you feel guilty your for the rest of your life it will destroy you, Claire." His voice broke at the end of the sentence, and I suddenly got the feeling that we were no longer only talking about me. After a moment, I slowly lifted a hand and gently cupped his cheek, trying to take a little bit of the pain away that was evident in his eyes. "We're both a bit broken inside, aren't we?" I asked with a dry chuckle, and I saw the corners of his lips twitch a bit. "If you really believe everything you just told me, then you have as little reason to feel guilty about spending so little time with your family as I have, alright?" I told him in a serious tone and after a couple of seconds he nodded. "You don't have to be the strong one all the time, Harry. As a wise person told me not that long ago: 'It's okay not to be okay'." This time the smile which appeared on his face also reached his eyes and when I returned it, he leaned in, his lips meeting mine, telling me all the things he couldn't say in that moment.