A Dreamers Dream

It's as simple and as complicated as that. Sydney, Australia.

Harry's perspective.

By the time I arrive at the arena the following afternoon for soundcheck, the remnants of my hangover have finally faded, and I'm not feeling too bad all in all.

Considering what a late-night I ended up having, by all rights, I should be feeling a lot worse. The quiet dinner with Delta and Jeff turned into a bit of a longer affair than I'd anticipated. Especially when Jeff insisted on coming back to my suite after we got back to the hotel. We polished off a couple of bottles of wine on top of what we'd already consumed in the restaurant. Safe to say I paid for that this morning, I don't think my head stopped banging until sometime after lunch.

I'm fairly sure Jeff guessed something was up with me after my sudden change of plans and behaviour at the restaurant. I don't usually drink much when I'm touring, but I knocked back a fair few glasses of wine with dinner, and I think his main reason for wanting to come back with me was mostly just to keep me company and make sure I was OK.

He was completely confused by the cloche covered plates littering the dining table. Still, even in my inebriated state, I knew it wasn't a great idea to tell him about Maddie. It's not that I don't want to tell him, as well as being my manager, Jeff is one of my closest friends. But I can't see him being too happy about me getting involved with a member of the crew, and as I still have no idea if there is anything to tell, it seems too early to risk rocking the boat.

In the end, I made some lame excuse about not being able to decide what I wanted for dinner and having ordered before I decided to go and meet him and Delta to explain the excessive amounts of food, and quickly called room service to clear the mess away. I'm pretty sure he knew I was talking out of my arse, but he didn't question me on it at least.

As soon as I climb on stage to start the soundcheck, I find myself scanning the room. My eyes are darting around the arena, looking for any sign of her soft chocolate hair tumbling down her back or her bright blue eyes shining out against the dark backdrop of the stands. Several crew members are milling around setting up, but there's no sign of Maddie.

Dammit. I opened and closed the message I received from her so many times last night that I'm surprised my phone battery didn't die, but not once did I find the words to reply, and I have to admit, I'm feeling like quite a dick about that now really. What if she really did only cancel because Sammy needed her?

And I'm just the arsehole who ignored her text because I thought she was making excuses when really, she was just being a good friend? Shit. I hope I haven't fucked this up.

"Sammy!" I call too loudly across the arena as I spot her pink and blonde head bobbing past me carrying a section of railing.

"Harry." She replies shortly, stopping begrudgingly by the side of the stage and looking up at me.

Her eyes are puffy and bloodshot, and there's not a trace of her usual good humour. She looks tired and upset, crap, that settles it then, I've been a total dickhead.

It's obvious from her appearance that what Maddie told me was nothing but the truth, and I instantly feel a pang of regret. I should have offered for Sammy to come up to my suite too, or sent down some dinner for them or... something. Not ignored Maddie's text and gone out and got drunk. Shit.

"Have you seen Maddie?" I ask her quietly, crouching down to speak to her so that the rest of the band don't catch our conversation.

"I think she's backstage somewhere. But I also think you should just leave her alone, you've done enough damage already." Sammy snaps back.

Ouch. Not sure I deserve that level of animosity really.

"I know, I should have texted her back last night, and I'm sorry for that, which is why I wanted to see her, to apologise," I say defensively, trying to keep my voice level.