Falling | h.s

forty-six

Author's Note: The italics are a flashback! :)

HARRY'S POV

I returned from Tennessee with my tail between my legs and did my best to hide from anyone who would ask me how it went. I went rogue for a week, not leaving my house once. Rosie brought me food but didn't dare utter a word about Janie as we forced out small talk. Or rather, she tried to force it out of me. 

The label loved "Fine Line," but of course, they wanted to make changes. 

"You can't end the album on such an ominous note," Mitch said moments after I played the song through for him. We were all in the recording studio and had just listened to the final song of the album for the first time. 

"Well, it's how I feel," I retorted disgustedly. "I want this song to embody how I feel and felt in that moment. Just like all the other songs do."

"I have to agree with Mitch," Jeff interjected, forcing me to roll my eyes. "The label won't like that."

"Well, frankly, I don't fucking care what the label likes or dislikes." Jeff breathed deeply at this and massaged the side of his head with his fingers. Everyone was frustrated with me, and I didn't blame them. Since she left, I've been irritable, stubborn, and sometimes just straight-up mean. But Mitch, always my faithful confidant and best friend, did his best to remain calm, cool and collected in all matters concerning me.

"What if we just did a minor change?" Mitch suggested calmly and I looked at him expectantly but was unable to hide my scowl. Maybe if it was Janie who was suggesting a change, I would have approached it differently. But now, my guard was up and I was standing my ground.

"Like what?" 

"Like, what if we made it "We'll be alright" rather than "Will we be alright?" That way, it'll appease the label but it won't take away from the original line too much?" I let his words wash over me and consider it. When I don't speak for a moment, he set his guitar down and faced me head on. 

"Look, H. I know you're hurting. And I know you want this album to emphasize that. But trust me, this song gets that point across. It's a sad fucking song -- everyone can hear that -- and I really don't think changing the last line will affect the impact the song has," he explained, speaking softly and lowly. My eyes met his and he grimaced at the pain on my face. 

"Fine," I agreed after a moment, making everyone in the room breathe a sigh of relief. 

"Good," Mitch nodded and patted my hand soothingly. 

So, the album was done. 

Twelve songs of heartbreak, love, loss, and unrequited love. It was a bittersweet feeling. I loved the album, of course, and I loved everything that went into it. I loved the honesty, the emotion, the raw feeling of heartbreak that exuded from half of the songs. But on the other hand, I couldn't listen to it without thinking of her. 

The "Lights Up" video was hard to film as well. Nobody understood why I wanted it to be the way it was. Nobody understood why I insisted on wearing that blue shirt, the shimmery one I wore to Rosie's birthday party that Janie loved so much. Nobody understood why I demanded the red, blue, and green lights. Nobody understood, and I was okay with that. 

After it came out, I wondered if she had watched it. I wondered if she noticed the shirt, the shades of colors that she associated the song with. The fluorescent red that light lit up the bar we met in. The glowing green that radiated off of the walls and the way it reflected off of my body. The blue that surrounded us as we wrote for the first time together. I wondered if she was jealous of the way the extras touched me or if she would roll her eyes with a smile at the scenes.