"We're not who we used to be, we're just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me, trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat."
Madeline "Ellie" Young is a veteran tour manager. She's one of the best in the business; she can turn an...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Harry's POV
I woke up the next morning to an empty and cold bed. I should have predicted that I would wake up and she wouldn't be here, typical Madeline. I quickly got out of bed, searching for her.
"Ellie?"
I pushed open the bathroom door as she raised herself from the floor, pushing tears from her face. I instantly frowned at the sight of her broken, attempting to reach out to her.
She leaned onto the counter, looking at herself. "I look disgusting."
I glanced at her image in the mirror, a dark purple bruise blossoming from her bottom lip, one peaking from her eye and surrounding the cut on her forehead, along her eye as well. I wrapped an arm around her as she buried her face in my chest, softly crying.
"I should have been there." I mumbled in her hair.
"Don't blame yourself." She sniffled.
I chuckled as I pulled back to look at her. She glanced away, looking in the mirror. "Well, I have to get ready for work and you need to go."
I nearly gaped at her words, furrowing my eyebrows. "What?"
"Thank you for staying with me, but I don't need you." She mumbled.
"Don't," I said lowly. "Don't push me away."
"We've got a tour to focus on," she said, forcing her voice to become a pitch higher. "You've got people to entertain and I've got a show to get on the way!"
"Madeline.."
"Listen here, Styles," she said, forcing a smile. "You're gonna be the richest celebrity in 2017, so got make some music!"
My shoulders sagged as she managed to get me out the apartment, leaving me in the hallway.
Madeline's POV 2 weeks later
The bus was leaving in four days and I started buying and packing the clothes I've managed to stack up over the past couple months. Harry hadn't bought anything since his Jamaica trip, so he forced me into going to shopping with him. I had to pick up a few more things anyways.
We were walking down the street, my sunglasses covering my eyes from the sun. The bruising had gone down on my face a lot, the cuts starting to heel themselves, but there were still slightly tinted, nothing a bit of concealer couldn't handle.
Harry had sunglasses covering his eyes, a smug smile on his face as he passed a few people asking to take pictures with him. He was wearing a black Harley Davidson shirt behind a blue floral print. (picture at the bottom)
"I hope you plan on buying better outfits than that." I chuckled, my shoulder brushing against his arm.
"What?" he asked, looking down at his shirt. "What's wrong with my outfit?"
