Songbird [Harry Styles AU]

2

"Gigi, why can't we skip to the part where you two actually meet?" She was already becoming impatient but I was only giving her what she asked for.

"No, you wanted the story and this is it, now where was I?" Age really does bring on a load of problems, memory being one of them.

"You were happy, living in New York for 2 years, you didn't realize what you were missing," she said jogging my memory and I smiled taking a sip of my coffee.

"Ah, yes, it was July 3rd when I got the call."

•••

"London? For how long?" I asked over the phone with my boss.

"Just about 3 or 4 months, we already have everything set up, I'm sending over the details now. You leave next Friday."

The phone call ended shortly after and I immediately texted Frankie and Laurel in a group message telling them we were going out for drinks that night.

Harry Styles wanted a documentary for his first solo album, Behind the Album. A few things sparked my excitement. 1. London. 2. Abbey Road. 3. Harry Styles.

Professional reasons, of course.

I was a fan of his work, I loved music and loved how his brought me back to my childhood of classic rock. This would be a big project, I wanted it to come out perfect.

I was already a bit of a perfectionist. When I had a new project I usually got lost in it, I had to learn how to separate home from work. One time the girls hadn't heard from me in almost 3 weeks because of how tirelessly I put effort into the project.

I want my subjects to be proud of what I created because it's their story, I want to tell it right.

I began listening to his album again and jotting down notes from each song. I took time doing more research on him although I was already pretty aware of his life. I was a pretty big fan of One Direction in high school and it broke my heart when the boys broke up but they are all doing great solo. I know very well the need for change and when something isn't working out, you need to let it go.

I was determined to make Harry proud that I was chosen for this project. I hadn't met him yet but I already felt an overwhelming pressure to do the best I had ever done.

In some ways it wasn't about proving myself to my clients, it was about proving myself to me. Klaus never believed in my degree, it was useless, I would never make a career out of it. While I knew those were lies it was the driving force in my work ethic, I wanted to prove it to myself and to him that I wasn't a failure. I was the most successful young documentarist for decades, I was in Forbes magazine and The Rolling Stones.

I put all of this pressure on myself to the be the best. I constantly seeked approval from others. I took every negative comment and let it push me to work harder and be better. Somewhere along the way I forgot why I enjoyed documentaries.

I forgot why I chose this. I stopped doing it for me a long time ago. I no longer felt the rush of meeting new people, hearing their stories, being enthralled in humanity. I love people, it's why I chose to be a story teller. But, somewhere between success and other's opinions I lost the thrill in it. I became robotic, I asked the same questions, took the same shots, told the same stories.

Well, not the same exactly, every story was different but my work always seemed to look the same. I was missing the spark and the fire from when I first started. I think seeking approval from others isn't necessarily bad but it's when that approval rules your life that it becomes unhealthy. There's a fine line between the two.

I just can't remember when I crossed it.

•••

"So, you were already a fan of papa's? Were you nervous to meet him?" She asked excitedly.

"Maybe subconsciously, I wasn't nervous because he was Harry Styles I was nervous because of the pressure I put on myself. I just wanted everything to go perfectly, it stole the joy from meeting him." I sighed drinking my last bit of coffee.

"What happened next?" Her eagerness was endearing and warmed my heart. I glanced to the small table beside my bed and saw the picture of Harry and I from when we were both young.

"Hazel," our daughter Lennon said standing in the doorway of my room. "Your grandmother is tired, it's nearly 10 p.m. Come on, we'll be back next week." I smiled thankfully at Lennon who came give me a hug and a kiss before Hazel followed suit. "I'll lock up as we leave, I'll be here in three days okay? Freddie is coming by tomorrow," she smiled giving me a small nod. I smiled before closing my eyes to sleep, Freddie would be here tomorrow and he looked just like his father.