golden | A HARRY STYLES NOVEL

"Staring At The Ceiling"

Chapter 15.

La Vie En Rose by Daniela Andrade (cover)
      I sat on the floor in front of an old mirror that rested against the wall in my room. It was stunning, one that I think Anna found or was given. Rusty gold details, almost a fairytale-esque mirror.

      It had been a week since Harry and I had gone to Anna's. Time slipped away as I continued to work and he, I assumed, worked on the album. Jeff got back and H went full time on the album again, which was good. It was a good thing.

      He called me yesterday actually. But he was breathing heavier and panicking again and it scared me. He never really told me why but I was glad he came to me to talk away his worries.

      But I knew too well that distraction was no remedy. I wanted him to be open with me, but that was so demanding next to my own lack thereof.

      But communication was good, even in the slightest forms right now. I'd get there eventually. I hoped he would too. I kept on walking this line of fear, alternating the directions I leaned to. Those directions being the fear of taking this too fast and the fear of running out of time.

      He called me and was barely able to talk. That is what terrified me, his heaving breaths and the sound of his staggering voice muted by held back tears.

      I think I helped him. Something in the back of my head was mildly horrified to get a call like that again. I couldn't immediately see him in person when things like that happened. But it was okay, nothing was wrong, everything's alright.

      Now I sat here writing little lines in my journal in front of an old mirror that I had developed an odd admiration for.
He holds the soft heart of a sunday afternoon in his chest. The rippling emerald waters he sees the world through are not rose but gold. The world is not perfect to him but it's beautiful. It's damaged but talented in aspirations and motivated to fulfill them. I can only hope he sees me through the same lense. (A reference to 'La Vie En Rose' by Edith Piaf. An Ode to seeing the world through rose-colored glasses, perfected and romanticized.)

      I fiddled with my hair a bit, ultimately pulling the front pieces back into a couple of draping braids. The rest of my hair I left in its own messed up curls.

Girl in Calico by Tow'rs
      I distinctly remember a period of time in grade school where I wouldn't sleep in my bed, but on my window seat. Just so I could watch the sky whilst falling asleep. It was the only bit of comfort I had then, and I remember appreciating the stars an infinite amount more for what they gave to me. I never understood what they had yet to give to me, but I remember thinking that one day I would no longer be alone under them. And painful as it was then, I endured it only with those thoughts. How ironic...

      I started to learn some Italian. When I arrived, only the small bits and pieces I picked up from Anna's regular vocabulary I felt comfortable with. Things like buona giornata and ti amo. Two months and some into living here and I now can order at tiny cafés with much added anxiety that would have been there even if it weren't in another language. But Italy feels like an almost home to me for some reason. I think that the people are some of the sweetest I've ever met, so so passionate and emotional. To the point that it may sound in their tone that they are yelling at you, but really it could be the sweetest compliment and they are just getting their emotions across. They are transparent and vulnerable and they tell you what they are thinking exactly and I adore that. I saw it beginning to reflect in me. Which is everything I could have asked for and more.

      The phone started to ring.

      My heart gasped in itself and I hurried across the room to answer it. It was Harry, and the sight of the little letter 'H' on my caller ID sent my breaths racing faster and faster until I clicked the answer button.