Falling | h.s

twenty-three

JANIE'S POV

It's been three days since I showed up at Harry's house drunk. Three days since showed up on his doorstep and we fell asleep in each other's arms. It's been three days since he combed his fingers through my hair and told me he wouldn't leave. It's also been three days since I've heard from him. 

The morning had been normal. I woke up to the smell of bacon and the sounds of Stevie Nicks and when I came downstairs, he had laid out a whole breakfast spread of us. We joked around, laughed, and everything was normal. Maybe even better than normal. He had called me an Uber and we agreed to meet up that afternoon in the studio. Then, the next thing I know, it was radio silence. 

I had shown up to the studio when we agreed to find an empty room. When I texted Rosie asking where everyone was, she had sent back a fury of texts about how Harry had canceled the session and that he told her that he had informed me. 

After that, he canceled our writing sessions for three days in a row with no explanation. Just a "hey I can't come in today," or a "take the day off." I felt the pit in my stomach grow with each passing hour of no communication with him. 

I knew I crossed a line. It was inappropriate of me to ask him to sleep in the same bed as me, for me to hold him as we slept. I shouldn't have gone to his house and told him about Charlie. It was all too personal. All too much. 

The last thing I wanted was for things to be weird between us. In fact, I had been working tirelessly to try and avoid that. I hadn't planned to talk about Charlie or anything personal with him. I was here for the music. I was here to help him write and listen to whatever he needed to say. I was here for him and I made it about me. 

I had moved into my AirBnB two days ago and the combination of radio silence from Harry and the echoes of an empty house had left me feeling lonelier than ever before. I tried to stay busy, working on a few songs that I hoped Harry would like. I racked my brain of things to say to him when I saw him again. Should I apologize? Should I act like nothing happened? Do I ask what I did wrong?  I fell asleep to the thought of his arms wrapped around me. 

Finally, after three days of next to no communication, he texted and asked me to meet him in the studio. 

I showed up fifteen minutes early, wanting to show my professionalism as well as prepare a few things for us to work on during the session. I had opened my notebook to the songs I had been working on and was excited to share it with him. More than anything, I was hoping it would reduce some of the obvious tension between us. When he arrived, thirty minutes late, he walked in the room with his head down, a complete contrast to his typically upbeat and charismatic entrance. He beelined straight for the couch and rather than sitting next to me like he always does, he sat across from me. He mumbled a greeting before making himself busy with his notebook. 

The entire session had been a dud. We argued over everything. Anything I pitched, he shot down. Anything I played, he hated. When I showed him the song I had been working on, he immediately dismissed it as "not good enough." The entire time he barely lifted his head to make eye contact with me but rather focused his eyes on an empty notebook page. After two hours of nothing but contempt, I stood up with an angry huff. 

"If you're going to act like this then I don't see any point in wasting either of our time," I huffed before grabbing my notebook and storming out of the room. When he hardly even looked up to see my go, I felt my heart collapse in my chest. 

I half had expected him to follow me, to apologize. To ask me to come back, to start from scratch. I made it halfway down the hallway when I felt a hand grab the back of my arm. I felt a spark of hope light up my body. When I turned and saw it was Rosie who had run after me, I had tried to hide my disappointment, but I knew she could see right through it.