Where I Am Without You [L.S]

Chapter One

December 17th 2019

The problem with London in winter wasn't the bitter chill, it was the prospect of light temporarily being a void concept. With the high of finally releasing Fine Line still coursing through Harry, he'd barely had a moment in the past few weeks to press pause. He'd spent the past few nights with friends celebrating the release and performing in a number of venues and interviews he'd long lost track of, but as he walked through the front door into his private home in London, the sudden feeling of loneliness flooded into him.

Weariness threatened to overwhelm him for a moment but he sighed and pushed through it, his sluggish movement leading him through the narrow corridor that lead down to the spacious living room and adjourning kitchen. It had been several weeks since he'd last been here and he doubted that there was any edible food actually in the kitchen. Judging by the brief glance he spared towards the fruit bowl and very dehydrated potted plants beside it, he thought better than trying to rummage through to find some form of sustenance. Instead he turned away from the space and headed towards his bedroom on the second floor.

His phone vibrated somewhere in a coat pocket, one of the three he'd thrown on as he'd left the plane at Heathrow. He'd landed an hour or so ago, the bitter night air had grabbed at the oxygen in his tired lungs, pulling most of his remaining strength from him as he'd stepped from the plane and had been headed through the gathered crowd that had awaited him despite the late hour. He'd smiled, the gesture practically automatic after nine and a half years but he'd still stopped for several photos and had politely, and genuinely, thanked the four girls who'd been a mess of tears over congratulating's him over the album. It meant the world to him, the support, no matter how much time had passed, and the experiences he'd had, there was nothing quite like people connecting so deeply with the words he wrote and sang. To this day he had to pinch himself at moments that this was actually his life, and despite the heavy exhaustion and overworked schedules he'd followed for nigh on a decade, he still wouldn't change any of it.

His bedroom door, firmly closed, greeted him at the end of the hallway. He managed to push his way in, dropping the large brown and gold Gucci duffle bag barely in the entrance of the room as he trudged towards the large king sized bed, adorned in dark grey sheets, and promptly fell sprawled upon the covers. He was more than content to simply fall asleep where he lay, fully clothed and figure disheveled but the blaring sound of his phone ringing startled him from his state of semi unconsciousness.

His hand slipped beneath his top coat, finding the side pocket of one of the three coats and pulled the small device free. One look at the caller ID and he knew this was perhaps one of the few people he couldn't avoid till morning.

"You are aware you're calling me after a twelve hour flight at 11pm?" He said the moment the call connected, his own voice startling him at how slow and slurred his words were due to his overtiredness.

Gemma's laugh greeted him, the smallest hint of a smile gracing his lips at the familiar sound, "I just wanted to check you'd got back alright?"

"Yeah, mh' all good. Just got home."

"How you doing?"

"Honestly? I feel like I've been repeatedly run into a brick wall, "He said with a huff, "One that refuses to give any ground." He could almost picture Gemma's smile through the phone.

"Poor little rock star." His sister said teasingly, and he supposed that some things never change.

"Mhh." Was his only grumbled reply.

"Ok, you sound barely awake so I'm gonna let you get some sleep, but I'll see you on Thursday ok? Love you H."

"Love you too Gem." He mumbled in reply before the line went dead.