sunflower/ hes

three

We'll be a fine line
We'll be alright
We'll be alright
We'll be alright

I had sat on the couch for 47 minutes, only getting up to eagerly flip the vinyl and change disks, listening to every word and note of the songs.

There was more than one song with lyrics I could trace back to the month Harry spent here, each one pulling a memory up that I tried so hard to suppress. And more than one song that had me shedding tears like I had just watched someone die.

I don't know how long I've been sitting here listening to the empty static of the record playing, my body won't catch up to the rollercoaster my mind and heart just went on.

That's until there's a knock on my door. I reach for my phone, seeing that it's nine at night throws me off, normally I don't have visitors. Could just be the landlord though.

I make my way to the door, turning off the record player as I do. When I open the door, it's like I'm glued to the floor of my entranceway.

"Long time no see, sunflower."

Again, unannounced, he's standing in front of me. His hair is shorter than the last time I saw him this close, still wild and unruly atop his head. His eyes look brighter, happier, like he's doing exactly what he wants to be doing for the first time in his life.

He just stands there staring, taking in my appearance. I'm like a hundred percent sure I look like hell.

"Ummmm. Come in?" It's more like I'm asking him if I should ask him to come in, rather than just asking him to come in.

But he doesn't waste a minute, breezing past me like it's his second home, leaving me at the door. He's gonna see the vinyl laying on the record player and I'm gonna be screwed.

When I walk into the living room he's sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the ottoman holding the record in his hands. He's looking over it like he's never seen it before.

"This is brand new."

"Uh yeah. I bought it Friday." He turns his head to the side, looking up at me.

"My album has been out since December. You just bought the vinyl?" He sounds sad, almost like he's hurt that it would take me this long to buy his album, let alone listen to it.

"I couldn't make myself. It made me sad to look at you."

"But you wear the merch I send in my PR box?" His face morphs into a lopsided grin, pointing with his head to the sweatshirt I'm wearing. I look down, noticing the red writing on the left side. I would be the one to wear this on the day he shows up.

"It's comfortable." I defend my favorite sweatshirt, grabbing the vinyl cover from his hands and sliding the record in.

He doesn't speak, watching me place the two records on the shelve under the record player. It reminds me of every day he stayed with me, watching me clean before getting up to help.

"You're freaking me out. Stop staring."

He lets out a loud laugh, a sound I have missed all this time, before clamping his hand down over his mouth.

"Ms. Roslyn will hear me and have my head." He jokes about my neighbor, who would beat on the walls if we were too loud.

"Anyways. I came here to offer you a job."

Excuse me?

"A job?"

"Yeah like it's not hard, I know you're into like fashion and design and stuff, and I had an opening and I couldn't think of anyone else I would want to give it to. You'd be helping Lambert do stuff like I'm not sure what but still you'd be right under him."

"You want me to work for you?" I try to straighten out the mess that are my thoughts right now.

"No. I want you to work with me. There's a difference." He watches as my mind runs. "It's the opportunity of a lifetime, Alex. You deserve to do something fun for a change. Don't think just answer. Yes or no."

His eyes are on mine, reaching out to hold my hands. This could go two ways, I could say no and continue working at my lame ass job filing paperwork for insurance companies, or I could say yes and live the best 9 months of my life, getting to see the love of me life, who doesn't know he's the love of my life, every other day. The safest option is clear. There's only one decision that ensure I don't get hurt.

"Harry..." He can see the wheels turning in my head, for once my pea brain working through the consequences of a decision I'm about to make rather than just making it

"No. Don't do that. Don't rationalize. Yes or no. Don't think just answer."

"Yes." I blurt out, shaking my head no at the same time. My mind says no but my heart says yes, and the heart always wins.

A bloody contradiction is what I am. This is not going to end well.