Lights, Cameras, & Harry Styles

37: Dreams, Moments, & Harry Styles

—Amber—

A little over a month has gone by. I'm back in Cheshire, my father's been released from the hospital, and I almost felt like I'm back in my old life; the life before the fame.

Almost.

There will always be that one person missing from my life; that one person that managed to hold a special place in my heart. The thing about that person though was that I was trying to forget him, or at least not think about him as often as I did. It was hard to escape his face considering he was all over the TV, magazines, news, and radio stations. My father didn't know who he was yet -only his name- and I haven't spoken of him of him since I arrived. My mother knew something was wrong the minute we found each other in the airport. No questions were asked; she just took me home, keeping the conversation away from any risky subjects.

It wasn't until the week before the movie premiere that my dad told me something I would never be able to forget.

He was lying on the couch, his wheelchair beside him. It was obvious he thoughts were elsewhere since he didn't even notice me walk past the living room and into the kitchen. I was searching the fridge for something to satisfy my stomach when he finally spoke.

"I had a dream, at least that's what I think it was, when I was in my coma."

"Oh yeah?" I reply, not turning to face him. I was busy eyeing the jug of chocolate milk sitting in the back of the fridge.

"The funny thing is," Dad continues. "I didn't realize it was you until recently. You know, the girl in my dream. It was you; an older version of you."

"Really?" I retrieve the milk jug, closing the fridge and searching the cabinets for a glass.

"What was it about?" I quickly snatch up one of the glasses, placing it out the counter and unscrewing the top off the milk jug.

"You were getting married." Dad props his body up into a sitting position, turning his head to look at me. "You were in this lovely wedding gown and you had the happiest smile on your face."

I slowly pour the chocolate milk into the glass, my lips formed into a tiny frown. "May I ask...who I was marrying?"

"I don't know a name." Dad shrugs. "But there's no way I could forget his appearance. He was in a tux, his smile mirroring yours. He looked familiar, but I just can't remember if I've seen him before. Curly hair, green eyes, and dimples... Ring a bell?"

I'd lifted the glass to my lips to take a sip, but the minute my father said curly hair the glass slipped from my fingers and crashed onto the solid ground, milk spilling everywhere.

"Shit!" I curse, rushing to find a towel and clean up the mess.

"What happened?" Dad begins to get off the couch, grabbing his wheelchair. "Amber, are you alright?"

"I'm fine!" I saw quickly, waving him off.

"Dropped my glass, 'is all."

"You need help?" He asks, squinting his eyes in my direction.

"No thanks. I've got it." I assure him.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

No one mentioned the dream after that. I silently cleaned up the mess, tears prickling in my eyes. Curly hair... green eyes... dimples... I'd know that description anywhere.

—Louis—

Harry wasn’t himself. I was starting to worry that the fans were noticing as well. Every night during every performance...there was always that one song that I found Harry struggling to get through. Tonight...that song was Moments. But at the same time...I’ve never seen him to put so much real emotion into a song as he’s being doing lately.