ASSUMPTIONS [H.S.]

chapter 48

Harry Styles

After show blues.

The easiest way to define them would be "the sadness after a performance."

Only this time, it's much different.

These blues don't seem to be caused by the show in San Francisco.

I've already taken a plane to LA, laying in the empty bed in my too-green apartment, and haven't even turned on 'Friends'.

Even though it has only been 6 hours since the performance, the misery doesn't feel like stopping anytime soon.

Especially not if I keep scrolling through the dozens of articles in hopes to find new clues or explanations.  I know I shouldn't believe everything on the internet, but, then again, she admitted she's intentionally harmed somebody, and it just doesn't sit right with me.

Now that I keep rethinking our "conversation" back in that hallway, I realize I should've given her a chance to explain herself.

The more I think about it, the guiltier I feel for being so harsh. I can't imagine what stress levels she must be going through right now. In fact, I have no idea where she is at all because she hasn't come home yet.

I hope she hasn't gone back to her crime-scene apartment.

With more worry filling my body, I reach out for my flip phone. I'm about to dial her number when I hear a soft knock at my door.

A huge wave of relief washes over me because I'd recognize that energetic knock anywhere, except this time it's as timid and shy as it could possibly be.

My nerves immediately strike up again when I think about having to see her at this time. About a minute passes until I gather the courage to walk over to the door.

The moment I swing it right open, my breath gets taken away by just looking at her. Her eyes are so red from crying, and her cheeks are extremely pink from her nerves, while she draws her trembling fingers through her messy curls, which look perfect even on the worst day.

"Hi," I whisper, trying to figure out where this will lead us.

"Hi." She breathes out, gathering the courage to continue. "Uhm... This is going to sound weird, but... would you like to go somewhere quiet? Escape to a calmer place? I promise I'll explain everything if you'll let me."

Before I have the chance to respond, she quickly adds on. "But it's completely fine if you don't want anything to do with me. I'll pack my stuff, and be out of your sight right away, then."

I rest my head against the doorframe, having an inner battle with myself. "No need to do that." I need to hear her story first. Her head immediately shoots up, as if she's surprised I'm so calm.

"What'd you have in mind for the quiet place?" I rub my eyes, wishing we could just get past this situation without going through all this trouble.

Her teary eyes are glued to her feet for a while before she faintly says. "Malibu Beach. It's less than an hour's drive from here. I haven't been there for years, ever since my dad passed."

There's a slightly awkward silence between us for a moment, which contains me re-evaluating the choices in front of me. I should at least hear her out, right?

"Okay."

"Okay?" She asks again in disbelief like she'd expected to have to be more persevering.

"Okay."

That's the last word that gets spoken before I put my shoes on and lead us to the barely-working white convertible.

Okay. I guess we're doing this.