This Thing Upon Me [Order The eBook] [Harry Styles]

Chapter 4

Published March 29, 2020

(DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. It's important to remember this is all totally fabricated, embellished, and exaggerated for entertainment purposes.)

"I've been going out of my mind. I hope that you don't run from me."

Harry Styles | If I Could Fly

They played Bowie's Lazarus over the loudspeakers and I was surprised I already knew the lyrics. For me, it embodied something spooky. Something vague and unnamable, like preconceived notions of one's own death...or reanimated corpses. It put me in the mood for nighttime driving and—well, tequila. Somehow I saw myself rambling through the streets of a rural Mexican town in the wee hours; traversing roads that connected rows of drab buildings—unpeopled and spectral. Yes, I wanted to be a ghost for a while, and this tune would suit my exploits well.

At my urging, our table debated the irony of Bowie releasing a song called Lazarus days before his death. I held that nothing was coincidence when it came to that man. He'd planned this, and here we were falling into his delicately laid trap by arguing and not just recognizing it for the ingenious ploy it truly was. Several people popped over and escalated the discussion, making ours the liveliest table, especially since it housed the man of the hour.

Irving fielded more greetings and questions than the President of the Academy, and he did it all with a unwaning, nearly divine smile. Remaining jovial the entire evening, he never allowed his exasperation to be known. His expression was always one of warmth and humility—damn I was in love with that man. If I could emulate even the least of his grace with even a fraction of his success at his age, I would consider myself accomplished.

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We sat through a few speeches, the first by the President of the Academy and later a few performances. I couldn't keep my eyes off my phone. Glenne tapped my screen to let me know I was missing something, and I looked up to see Corden take the stage. He was ace at extempore speeches, so I didn't worry overmuch that he'd been drinking and might forget his lines. He talked about the new show and how his idea for carpool karaoke was initially ill-received, then ended with a light roast of the guests in the front row.

Later Gwen and Blake started going at it from across the room, so their tablemates deflected and suppressed nervous laughter. Somehow she had made her way to his lap, and they were so close to snogging that half the room was rapt and waiting on them to make a move.

Finally Irving was honored with the Merit Award for Industry Icons, presented by the President of the Academy. I watched his rosy nose drip as he gave an emotional speech from a few sheets of papers. I could tell how much his fingers were trembling by the way the papers quivered. Tonight, he seemed unequivocally human.

I always marveled at how small he was, for such a titan. Unlike most in his position, it was easy to imagine him as a simpler man in another life. He struck me particularly as a history teacher, or the bishop of a local diocese. Nothing too spectacular. Nothing scandalous either, since even in my weird alternative universe he proved shrewd, gentle, and considerate.

Suddenly James' voice was at my ear, his breath hot with tequila. The damn tequila I wanted and had denied myself for months. He was speaking through gritted teeth, so it took a while to decipher what he'd said, but when I did, the words gave me palpitations.