"You said, no you sang, you sang that everything was gonna be alright. You said that we'll be alright, Harry. But did you mean that?"
Where Belle Olivia Granger encounters five young boys who happen to be in the biggest boyband on the planet, and sh...
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"I'm here! I'm here!" Harry comes running through the empty audience where I've been sitting for almost two hours watching the other boys rehearse for tonight's show.
One song after another, none of them sounded quite right without Harry's vocals, so they would run it again, fully knowing that it wouldn't sound any better than the first time.
No one has seen or heard from Harry all day, which once again, is very unlike him. He's never this irresponsible... except for maybe that one time on national television when he whispered, "Think how much pussy you're gonna get," in Matt Cardle's ear.
Sound check has been hell so far with nothing but arguments between Niall, Liam, Zayn, and Louis over every little thing from someone's mic supposedly being too loud or too quiet, all the way to flat out insulting each other when someone doesn't hit the notes the way Harry normally does. Missing a member, even for a day, has really fucked them over.
But I haven't had it any easier than they have. Today has been a pain in the ass for us all.
I'm starting to realize that writing a book isn't as easy as it sounds.
Planning and then replanning, because that same character arc and stupid trope between the lead and their love interest being overused is only the beginning. Then comes the setting, what age group you want to write for, and if the story will need a sequel. After that comes editing, which is the biggest pain in the ass and the longest part, and then it's impossible to know when you're done or how to end it with a bang.
"Fancy seeing you here," Louis grumbles into his mic that booms louder than usual through the empty stadium. "Did you forget we had a show tonight, or what? I don't see how that's possible with management reminding us every five minutes what the schedule is," he continues angrily as I glance up from my messy notepad, eyes following Harry as he stupidly runs up to the stage and pulls himself onto it.
He's out of breath and his face is a light shade of pink, his almost shoulder length curls sticking to his neck in a few places. Typical black skinny jeans adorn his legs, and a large flannel is hanging from his shoulders. When his large hands rise up and begin unbuttoning the top few buttons, I force myself to look away, chewing on the eraser of my pencil while I stare down at my messy paper and try to look busy.
"Had a song writing session run over," Harry breathes just loud enough for me to hear, but I don't buy it and neither does anyone else.
"Let's just run through everything one more time," Liam declares with a deep sigh, taking a hand and rubbing his eyes with frustration.
Everyone seems begrudgingly on board to run through the show a third time, and I don't mind sitting through it again, because their voices are always good background noise to help me concentrate, but I can see Zayn battling with himself before eventually the devil on his shoulder- or maybe just the stress, wins out.
