Stare Like You'll Stay [h.s.]

Chapter 1: Woken up like an animal

Two weeks ago (February 2017) - Harry's P.O.V.

Tossing the pile of papers across the table, my nostrils flared in frustration as I stared at the team lining the conference table in front of me. This wasn't supposed to be so fucking hard and despite each individual in the room doing their best, it wasn't enough and time was running out.

"Mind clearing the room for a few minutes?" Jeff spoke to everyone as they rose from their seats, balancing their teas, coffees, and stacks of documents in their arms, scurrying out of the room like there was a fire ablaze.

Running my hand through the short hair I was just now starting to get used to, I let out an annoyed groan, folding my arms in front of me on the table and resting my head on top.

As soon as the door to the conference clicked shut, I could hear Jeff refilling the mug of coffee in front of me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"We are going to find the right person, we just gotta be patient." Groaning, I brought my head up from the table and back to reality, taking a long sip of the steaming cup of coffee in front of me.

"We've in'erviewed almost ten different people, each more impressive than the 'ther, but none of 'em understand what w're tryin' to do 'ere and w're running outta time."

I hated being negative especially when everyone on the team was doing the best they could, but I had one chance to get this whole thing right and I needed to make sure I had the right team by my side.

I scratched the back of my neck in annoyance and stress, my eyes glancing over the black ink that damn well near covered my entire arm. While there are many tattoos on my body I have grown to regret over the years, there's one in particular that seems to burn my skin every single time my eyes come in contact with it. Done out of spite, its presence on my arm was a constant reminder of how fucked everything is.

Grazing the little "R" tattoo with my thumb, a permanent memory I try to forget, I shrugged off the feelings that were beginning to form in my stomach, bringing my gaze up to Jeff who had the exact same knowing look on his face. After spending most of my days with him, I could read him like a fucking book.

"I'm not gonna call 'er, Jeff. S'made it clear that she wants nothin' to do with me." Hanging my head in shame, I began to fiddle with the rings that covered my fingers, a nervous habit of mine, as Jeff let out a loud sigh, confirming what I already knew to be true.

My first solo album was done and now came the grueling logistical process of putting together a release schedule and marketing plan, something I was never hands on with during my time in One Direction. For years, I was just told where to be and when and now I was deciding where I should go and what I should do.

Being clueless to how it all worked, Jeff and I wanted to bring in a PR specialist who knew how to not only promote an album, but also plan, coordinate, and help manage a tour that was going to be going around the world.

In the near dozen of interviews we have sat through these past two weeks, there was only one person in my mind that I could picture having the position and she was the last person on Earth that would ever take it.

"Like you said, you need someone that knows what we are trying to do here and who knows it better than Rac-"

"-I said no, Jeff. Leave it." My voice came out cold and firm, this conversation heading places I never wanted it to go. Just hearing her name made my head spin, flooding my mind with memories far too fast to process.

Throwing his hands up in defeat, Jeff's eyes were fixated on the phone in his hands, eagerly scrolling down the screen for something that was apparently more important than trying to get this tour put together.