This Thing Upon Me [Order The eBook] [Harry Styles]

Chapter 39

(DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. It's important to remember this is all totally fabricated, embellished, and exaggerated for entertainment purposes.)

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This thing upon me is not death...

but it's as real..."

Charles Bukowski | Old Man Dead In A Room

All that sustained me for those next two shows in Manila was repeatedly watching Ariana perform my song, "Just A Little Bit Of Your Heart" at the 57th Grammys on YouTube, (listening to her belt my truths which I was too afraid to voice), and also covering as many of Z's parts as I could onstage. I wanted to be as close to him as possible, and this was the only way I could think of without outright wearing his leftover clothes and jewelry.

I covered more of his parts than anyone, and before long the boys got the gist of why I was so adamant about doing them myself, and they tried to comfort me in weird ways during his absence. For the first time in my career, I wore a bright yellow shirt. And unknowingly, I even left space both nights during "Little Things," (I suppose subconsciously not wanting to shut him out.) Both times Niall and Liam forced me to move over to maintain appearances, and in doing so I felt a little more of Z be erased.

During our first rehearsal without him, things were unusually quiet. We had become so accustomed to him singing under his breath and humming between sets, that the absence of his voice was more haunting than any of us cared to admit. I wasn't prepared for how much I'd miss it around the house, or miss hearing it in bed before I fell asleep whenever he stayed up to watch Netflix beside me. Always with headphones on, always in his own world and ignorant of the fact that I could hear him. Crooning silly things like "Friday" by Megan Black or Stevie Wonder's soulful version of the birthday song.

I missed hearing it when we went out window shopping at some obscure little thrift spot outside of Bradford or Cheshire. Or if we dared and got a B&B for one night, we'd brave a shop at a seaside market and cook each other dinner. It was the only way we could actually date. Creating our own little worlds outside of the world. Carving out our own unique slices of heaven, all over rural England, or in the remote quarters of our hometowns. Places where TV and the internet were rare commodities, and even if they possess them, it was unlikely they gave a damn about One Direction.