Cherry Bomb |H.S|

Epilogue.

— Chesterbrook, Pennsylvania. 2022. —

TW: mentions of over dose and rehabilitation centre.

HARRY STYLES.

"How you feeling?"

It's strange, seeing the outside world, the real outside world. Sometimes, it's easier to just make it all up, convince yourself it's real and convince yourself you're being made to make it all up — just so you don't have to face this reality, and face what comes with the actions you take as a human.

"Good. Strange being outside, normal, again." I laugh, gazing out the window of the car that's speeding down the road, nothing around us for miles as we head into what was once my home town, one I spent so many years in, one I ruined myself in, just to feel normal.

"You sure you want to head back here? You heard the doc-"

"Lee, I'm fine." I laugh, his brown eyes looking at me before he nods his head, drumming his finger tips along the steering wheel as he drives.

"Have to hand it to you Styles, making up a fake reality? Based in the seventies? You should be an author." He laughs again, my own laugh mixing with his as I shake my head.

"You still want me to keep your name as TJ?" I ask, he nods with a grin.

"It's a sick name! I might legally change it ..." he trails off, making me slap his arm as he whines sarcastically, hitting me back as we drive into the town.

It's odd, very very odd looking around now. Faces I used to see on a daily back here, I was still seeing in my reality — Ryder, Niall, TJ, Alfie; my neighbours here to be exact, ones that I'm not close with, but I've always wanted to be.

"Real talk-"

"Oh no, here comes the lecture." I groan, looking at Lee as he drives and parks in my driveway, looking a at me with seriousness before speaking up again.

"Promise me, you won't relapse? I don't want you stuck in there again, we need you out here Harry, we all do." He smiles, nodding towards my front door that's now open, a red head smiling widely at me as she runs towards the car.

"I promise." I nod, he smiles.

"Sunflower! Oh it's so good to see you! Actually you!" She laughs, throwing open the door as she nearly pulls me out, engulfing me into a big hug that has me smiling from ear to ear.

"Didn't forget me then, huh?" I ask, she shakes her head with a loud laugh, bright smile staring at me.

"I'd never forget you, H."

Mary Jane, you heard of her, way too much of her for my liking — but anyway, yes, she's my wife, and no, we aren't in the seventies. I was in a rehabilitation centre, coming clean from all the stuff I pumped into my body to feel happy again, she was the one that found me, slumped in the bathtub passed out, she admitted me, but my stubborn self decided to turn the whole centre into my own reality, what you've read up until this point, has all been fiction, one that helped me through my dark times.

And why am I speaking to you now, you may ask?

Because, isn't that what happens at the end of a story? The writer addresses the audience?

That's right, I did in fact write a book.

Thanks Lee, or should I say TJ.

"Come on sunflower, missed you around here!"

So did I, sweets.