Tell me // H.S.

Wonderland

I. LOVE. THIS. CHAPTER. That's it.   

Enjoy !

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October 11th 2020

He wakes me up at 3.30 in the morning, right after I had finally managed to get Styles out of my mind, walking in the room, slamming the door and then...talking to the door?

"Tommy what the fuck are you doing? That's the door ! Come here !" I whisper, getting up to try and help him, cause he's clearly going to wake the whole hotel up right now. 

"Oh hi, Star, I'm so sorry...I wanted to be very silent, the way I always am-" (spoiler alert : he  NEVER is) "-but then the door was too annoying, and clearly trying to keep me out of the room and I-" he starts rambling on, stumbling across the room. 

"Tommy, stop talking so loud please, it's 3.30 AM, and people are most likely asleep right now" I whisper again, grabbing both of his hands and helping him get in bed...I mean, to be more specific, he just ends up laying, his face in a pillow, his arm hanging off the bed and all of his clothes still on, but I consider that good enough. Two minutes later, as I'm just making sure he's okay, and going up to the door that he left wide open to shut it, I hear him snoring already. 

Perfect, now there's a drunk Tommy sleeping and a very much not drunk, and surprisingly very much awake Starla in this hotel room !

I know that I won't go back to sleep now. First of all because once Tom starts snoring, I literally can't think about anything else than "I'm going to murder him". Second, because right now, what I have in my mind is even more annoying than Tom -which is rare. Harry freaking Styles. More specifically the whole conversation we had, the way he looked at me -and probably looks at everyone, in general-, making me feel like he was looking directly into my soul, the way his jacket smelled, the way he made me laugh and smile. 

And the way a part of me ended up wanting to tell him. About my story, that he said he wanted to know about so much. About my past. About everything. 

"This is ridiculous Starla, he's a literal celebrity, he was probably just having a bit of fun, and he's probably done that a million times. You're not telling him anything that is too private. You're not telling him about what happened. Not a word." I think, just trying to convince myself that he couldn't be serious. 

But he came all the way up to the hotel room, when I was trying to bail on them, to make sure I was alright. And he didn't ask about the fact that I had visibly been crying. And he tried to make me feel comfortable once we were at the bar, almost as if he could tell that something was off. And he talked to me not as a celebrity meeting a fan would. No, we talked the way two random people would. And he followed me when I sneaked out. He offered me his jacket cause I was cold. He asked me about my story again, saying he knew there was something, and he had to know more about it. He even came up with the idea of the songs, and the book quotes. 

"Shit. What if he cares, for real?" I just ask myself. But I don't have the answer to that. The only way to find out, is to talk to him again. Or to keep it all to myself, cause I won't see him again anyways, and soon I'll forget about all of that, and he'll forget about me. 

And we'll go back to our lives. 

I kept on turning all of that in my head again and again, trynna get a clearer idea of what happened and what would happen afterwards. I couldn't go back to sleep. After trying for over three hours, I gave up.