the journal - h.s.

85

[amber’s pov]

He only tightened his embrace at the sound of my voice. I sighed relieved that he was here, that he had let me in. That his warm strong arms held me like they would never let go. I placed a kiss on his collar bone that was exposed at the neck of the black t-shirt. A small sigh escaped his lips. I leaned a little back to look up at him; his eyes were closed but flickered open to find mine watching him. They were still a little teary; the eyelashes were extra dark and shiny from the salty tears. The greenness in his eyes seemed more alive as the light easier was reflected in his watery eyes. I couldn’t describe what the sight of him like this did to my heart - how could anyone do this to him? As he lifted one hand and quickly wiped his eyes, I let go off him a little. My heart was with him and I couldn’t stand seeing him so broken. I waited as he blinked a couple of times and his eyes searched sideways again to find mine.

We still sat as closely as we could; legs touching, arms touching. The connection was his life jacket. I kissed his shoulder as he exhaled deeply. He had always been broken. He had just hid it scaringly well. I kissed his shoulder again, resting my head there as I watched him hit the first note trying with his index finger. We listened as the note grew fainter and fainter till finally it was no more. He wiped his eyes again with his other hand.

“I’ve been raised in Washington DC,” Harry started. His voice sounded like what you could expect from someone under this kind of inexcusable pressure. It was faint and just - so tired of everything. He let another finger hit a different note. We listened together as it died out too in the darkness of the huge ballroom.

“Born in Illinois,” he continued and stroke a different note right as the first one was finally inaudible, “and I’m an only child, which you probably know.”

He looked up at me with the green eyes seeming - naked in some way. Honest and finally ready to let me completely in. A sad smile played on his bruised lip. The kind of smile that would make the sky cry with heavy raindrops and make the flowers crumble too early in the fall. His eyes escaped back to the keys, as he placed both his hands there. His movements were so smooth and natural, so practised. It looked like they felt at home there; found some kind of peace. Peace in the music.

Then he started playing for me. Soft tunes washed in over the room like a melody from some long lost heaven - some clean and harmonized place where only beauty existed, did this flow from. He played for some minutes before a specifically quiet part came; “so my father raised me on his own after my mum... after my mum … died.”

Chills covered my entire body. I sat very still listening to his music, but the silence after his words was still present and somehow so easily to feel - even though the music kept playing. It was a different silence. Not even the beautiful melody could wipe away what emptiness his words had left behind. There was nothing. No hope or good memories. Just blackness and silence, which the tune couldn’t fill.

“But he worked quite a lot - so it wasn’t even like I saw him often. Only the occasional events and dinners when I got old enough to keep him company, when he had guests. They would talk about politics. Like he always fucking do,” the tune that Harry’s strong fingers created grew more heavy. He kept playing without saying a word till the melody once again had found its way back to a peaceful and beautiful pattern of sounds instead of the more fierce tune. He sighed, as I kissed his shoulder again, while I fascinated watched his hands travel over the keys.

I had a pretty clear idea of what Harry’s dad was working as with that mentioning, but I didn’t dare to believe it just yet. I had heard the name 'Styles' somewhere else - where it hadn't belonged to Harry. I waited for him to make it the truth, before I would. I remembered how the name ‘Styles’ had seemed familiar to me back then - how I was sure I had heard it somewhere before. I begged that the connection which I now realized - wasn’t the truth. I didn't want to believe it.