Bring It Back

pick up the pieces and go home

chapter ten
december 31st, 2015

His fingers hover over the keys of the piano, shaking with each breath he takes. It's the night of his friends' annual New Year's Eve party, and there are more people than he can count in his living room, and yet Harry Styles has never felt more alone.

He's not sure why he's sitting in front of an instrument that he doesn't even know how to play, but he's always found something soothing about the black and white keys. Maybe because they're one of the only things in life that he has complete control over. He chooses the sound, they make them. Or maybe not. Maybe he's just searching for some shitty metaphor to distract himself from thinking about what's really wrong.

A blank sheet of paper rests on the top of the piano, the empty lines staring at him, waiting to be filled. All of a sudden, the pen feels heavy in his hand, and he can't seem to find the words he's been planning out for months now. Dear Mom and Dad.....this has been a long time coming....it all sounds wrong now. Unfinished, like a sentence without a period, a girl without a mother, a man without a heart.

The door swings open, and Harry immediately crumples the sheet of paper up into a ball, even though he hasn't even written anything down. It's Niall. Harry can tell by the rosiness in his cheeks and the bounce in his step that he's drunk, and so he tries to smile too, because the last thing anyone ever wants to do is make Niall upset. Niall's the happy kind of drunk, the kind who smiles and talks to everyone, who's even more happy than usual when he's intoxicated. Harry's the complete opposite. His friends sometimes joke that when he's drunk he's a different person, but deep down, he knows this isn't true. When Harry's drunk, he's the same angry person he always is; when he's drunk, he just has an excuse to be.

"Hey, mate, where have you been?" Niall asks him from his spot in the doorway. "Everyone's asking about you. It's not a party without Styles."

Harry blinks. He knows that he's meant to chime in with his own joke, but he can't think of anything. "Right. Uh, okay. Just give me a minute. I'll be right there."

Maybe if Niall was sober, he'd be able to tell that something is up with Harry. Or maybe not. Maybe Harry is a whole lot better of an actor than he thought he was, because Niall just nods his head, gives him one last grin, and then he's gone, leaving Harry all by himself once more.

He sneaks one last glance at the paper. The empty lines almost look like they're taunting him now. And so, before he can stop himself, Harry opens up the doors to his balcony and chucks the blank sheet of paper out into the city of London. It's supposed to make him feel better–no, that's not it. It's supposed to make him feel something, but even after he's closed the doors and made his way back into his room, Harry still feels the same.

november 8th, 2016
Norah has no idea when the last time she got a good night's sleep was. She could blame it on the stress of uni, or Layla keeping her up at night, or maybe even the absence of Harry in her life and how surprisingly lackluster things have been since, but deep down, she knows the truth. It's not either of those things. No, the reason for Norah's not so random insomnia is the impending visit home that creeps closer and closer, until it's finally Friday and the day has come for her to go back to Leeds for the break.

"Do you want me to drop you off at the train station?" Layla asks her early that morning as the two of them devour their breakfast as quickly as possible. "Technically, it's on my way."

"That's not true and you know it," Norah rolls her eyes. "Seriously, I'm fine. It's a short walk."

"Sometimes I'm not sure whether I hate your independence or if I envy it," Layla sighs once she's finished off the last of her yogurt bowl.