Evergreen [h.s]

Chapter 2 - The Mystery Girl From Jane's

Harry Styles
May 9, 2023

Oregon. My second favorite place in the world. It's so quiet and peaceful here. Drowns out the noise.

I built a house here several years ago when I finally got fed up with California. I've been staying here on and off since then. It's a good escape to clear my head and remember who I am when no one else seems to give a fuck.

I rest my elbows on the metal railing of my back porch and look out to the restless water ahead of me while sipping my black coffee. My house is set on a cliff, but I still have a decent sized yard and pool.

Honestly, it's way too much space for me, but sometimes my mates come to stay for a bit when they think I've had too much time alone. My family stays here too if they come to the states, also probably worried about me.

I get so tired of everyone worrying about me or constantly checking up on me. I'm a grown man. I don't need any help. It's not like anyone would know what my life is really like anyways.

I love my job. I love making music, touring, and seeing my fans in real life, but sometimes I just can't take the weight of it all. The constant flashing cameras that follow my every move, and the endless media rumors about me make me question if I'm even real sometimes. It makes me question if any of this is fucking worth it.

I almost feel as if I'm a puppet on a string being controlled by everyone around me, leaving me with nothing.

I shove the decrepit thoughts back into my mind when I hear my phone ringing inside. I walk back through the French doors and into my kitchen, picking up my phone that reads 'Niall Horan.' I accept the call.

"Yes, Niall?" I say harshly, annoyed that he's bothering me before noon on a Tuesday.

Niall's my guitarist, and while I love the Irish bastard, he's a bit- hm, how do I put it? Annoying.

"Harold! Top of the mornin to ya, mate! How are ya?" I can practically hear the bloody grin he's bound to have on his face.

"I'm fine. What do you want?"

"No need for the tude Mr. Sourpuss. Just wanted to see if you were thinking about coming home soon? We miss you in the studio man, and I know you know how important this next album is goi-"

"Niall. Stop. I told you all before I left that I didn't know when I'd be back, and I still don't know now. I'll be sure you're the first to know once I figure it out Mr. Sunshine and Rainbows."

"O-okay then. Sorry to bother, mate. Have a good day. Call if you nee-"

I hang up the phone.

God this is all so exhausting. Why can't anyone just get the fucking hint that I want to be left alone?

I don't want to make new music right now. I want to fucking rot in this house in Oregon alone. I have enough money for half the damn world to live off of, so it's not like I need to go make more anytime soon.

I spend the next few hours watching some shitty reality show while figuring out what the hell I'm going to do for dinner tonight. I ate some leftover pasta around noon and have been lounging around, the same thing I do every day when I'm here.

I toss my dishes into the sink and head for the stairs, trudging to my bedroom. I walk into my bathroom and slip off my briefs, turning the shower on to rid myself of the wretched phone call with Niall and all else that's plaguing my mind.

I step underneath the heated stream and wash it all away. Once I finish, I pump myself to sheer euphoria for some mental peace, then turn off the water and step out onto the marble flooring. I wrap a towel around my waist and head to get dressed.