Fade {Harry Styles}

chapter 13

It was after nightfall before Marcel reached his apartment door. With a feeling of relief, he slid the key into the lock. He had missed the raggedy apartment he had learned to call home; strangely. Maybe it was because it was because it somewhat reminded him of the house he had grown up in so many years ago. The halls gave the same familiar appearance as the ones he used to chase his sister down in a playful game of tag or an angered attempt at getting back at her for something she had done. Or perhaps it was the fact he had lived there for a while; who knew?

*    *    *

Kelsey huffed her attitude into the receiver. She knew very well that her frustration was audible, yet she felt no remorse for letting it be known.

"What do you expect me to do about it?" She demanded of the person on the other end of the line. "He’s just—"

"I expect you to get in his face. Do what ever you were doing before that was catching his attention, alright?" Mr. Lynch’s voice was no less irritated on the other end of the phone. "It had been months since One Direction. It’s time to get this show on the road."

"Yeah, but I don’t understand how I can do that.” Kelsey replied. 

She could just imagine the man scratching at his balding head and smoothing out his, what seemed to be, always wrinkled tie. Some days Kelsey would ask herself why the hell she stuck with her job. She was literally getting paid to get into people’s business, half of the time without them even knowing. And her boss was a man who instructed her to accomplish things he even he was unsure of how it could be done. 

"Do that lady thing?"

"Excuse me?" She quipped.

"The lady thing. You know? Where you bat your long eyelashes and he falls to his knees. I need you to do that with Harry."

"Sir, I don’t think you know him very well. Harry isn’t going to fall to his knees. He’s more the type to—" 

"I don’t care." He interrupted rudely. "I need him back in the U.K. as Harry Styles in a month. No more of this Marcel foolishness. He needs to get his shit together, and you’re going to help him do it. Understood,"

Mr. Lynch didn’t phrase it as a question, and rather than reciprocating back rudely as well, Kelsey only uttered, “Understood.”

And that was that. The other end fell silent, indicating that Mr. Lynch had indeed hung up on her. And Kelsey was left with a boggled mind.

She had basically been instructed to make Harry fall in love with her. Or at least, think he was. How that was going to help him was still a mystery to her, but if her boss said so…

*    *    *    

A vigorous fist pounding was awarded to Marcel’s apartment door, awakening him from where he has fallen asleep on the couch. The T.V. remained on but was set to a low volume, barely audible over the banging of a fist against the wooden entrance. 

A groan was mildly wailed as a response from Marcel. The clock resting on the T.V. stand illuminated the time of 1:04 in the morning. Not a configured appropriate time for such an intrusion. 

None the less, Marcel made his way to the door, unlatching it tiredly and slowly. 

None other than Kelsey stood at the threshold. There was no vibrant smile on her face, no scowl of remorse either. Startled by her persistent attempt to disrupt him at 1 in the morning, Marcel had a strenuous time constructing a response.

"Kels, what do y—" And he was silenced. 

The feeling was ecstatic, vibrant and vivid. Just mere seconds prior, Marcel was dazed from the sleep cocoon he had just been pulled from. But in that moment, that split second, his senses rapidly sparked to life.