A Dreamers Dream

Devotion and commotion. Mexico City, Mexico

Maddie's perspective.

Harry:

Please, just let me know you're OK. Trouble, I'm so worried about you. H x

The message pops up on my screen almost instantly after I don't answer yet another call from him, the sixth already today and it's only eleven am. I know I should answer, I know that it's not fair of me to make him worry like this. But I'm just not ready to talk to him yet.

We arrived in Mexico City yesterday lunchtime, and the entire crew was shuttled straight from the airport to the arena to set up for the first of the two consecutive shows that Harry is performing here. It was all a bit manic really. We only had a few hours to set everything up before the doors were due to open, so everyone was running around like chickens with their heads cut off, desperately trying to get things ready in time. Whilst a lot of the crew were grumbling about being hungover from the party the night before and just wanting to go to bed, the fast pace of the day suited me. It meant I didn't have time to think or dwell on the horrors from the party that I could push the thoughts of Novak's hands groping at me, his slimy mouth pressed against mine, to the back of my head and let my mind be taken over by the tasks that needed to be completed. I kept myself to myself most of the afternoon, and I even managed to avoid Harry entirely, as soundcheck was cut quite short due to the time constraints and I busied myself helping some of the riggers unloading a van out back during it.

I know I am a coward, but I'm just not ready to face him right now. I know that he's probably beating himself up over what happened to me and that he is probably desperate to try and make things right. Still, I'm honestly not sure that he can. It's not that I blame him for what happened with Novak, not really, I know it wasn't his fault and that if he could turn back time and not leave me alone in that alleyway, then he would in a heartbeat. However, the things he said to me before that, the way he brushed me away when I tried to comfort him during out argument and the look in his eyes when he said he must have been wrong about me being strong enough to handle all this is burned into my brain and the more that I think about it, the more that I think he's right. I'm not strong enough. Not strong enough to be his girlfriend, to handle creeps like Novak, I'm not strong enough to be a part of his world or to even stick out my job until the end of the tour. I just don't know how on earth I am going to be able to tell him that, how I am going to be able to walk away from him. I need a little time to gather my strength before I have to look into those captivating green eyes of his for the last time.

So, that's why I am hiding away in my second-floor room in our hotel in Mexico City, and I will continue to right up until the moment that I absolutely have to head to the arena to help do takedown after tonight's show. Perched on a rickety old wooden chair, gazing out of the window at the crowds of fans who have lined the pavements outside hoping for a glimpse of Harry before the show tonight but not really seeing any of their faces. I'll miss that, the screams and singing of his fans following us pretty much all over the world, there is something amazing in witnessing their love for him first hand. How they always manage to find out where he is staying I do not know, but I understand their devotion to him, he's an easy person to fall for, I of all people know that.

Whilst I am lost in my daydreams staring out across the sea of heads outside to the multicoloured buildings in the distance, the screams suddenly double in volume, making me jump and snap back to the present. What the...? Craning my neck, I press my face against the glass and try to see the front door to the hotel below me and work out who's taken their life in their hands by walking straight out the front door. I'm surprised to see that it's Harry. In black trousers and a black hoodie with a surgical mask covering most of his beautiful face, a team of security are flanking him as he tries to make his way to his car, his head down as he stumbles along. Why on earth would he walk straight out the doors and into that? I wonder to myself.