Marley

‘Do you think Harry has finally gone too far?’

After reading the article, I frown and sit back, drumming my fingers lightly on the back of my phone. Of course, after Harry told me to not go online, I couldn’t help but… do just that.

Something about it was too suspicious, the way he seemed to so persistently want me to stay off the Internet. Something had to be going on, and it turns out, it was.

Knowing that the paparazzi are still waiting outside, just for the chance to jump out at me again, I consider my options.

Obviously, I could just stay in my here for however long it takes for them to go away. Something gives me the feels though that I’d starve before that happens. Or, I could actually try and get out of here without them noticing. Find a way to talk to Harry in person; figure out exactly what all is going on.

Thinking that the latter would be better, I grab my phone again and dial Harry’s number, praying that he’s not busy and is able to pick up.

Honestly, if I don’t have him, I don’t know where else I can go. My own home is pretty pointless, as are any of my old friends’ homes. Harry’s honestly all I have about now, and after reading all those articles about the two of us, I feel that it would be best to talk in person.

“Hello? Marley?” Harry’s low voice calls to me through the phone after a couple of rings.

“Harry! Thank God,” I sigh in relief, grabbing the phone with both hands. “I know you said to lay low and all, but… can we meet? I think I can sneak out of my house, and it’s kind of driving me insane just knowing they’re there, you know? So….” My rambling continues for another good ten seconds before he stops me.

“I’ll text you my address,” he says slowly, and I can’t tell if it’s in a cautious manner or just him speaking normally. I’ve noticed that he does seem to speak as if he has all the time in the world. “Delete it when you can, don’t forget that.”

Nodding, I’m already rising and making sure I have all my necessities as I sneak to the back door. “Got it, I’ll be there… as soon as I can. Bye-”

“Oh, and Marley?” He cuts me off again, silence filling the line for a moment. “Be careful, okay? These people don’t play nice, especially if they catch you trying to get away from them.”

I voice my acknowledgement before hanging up, getting a text message of his address almost immediately afterwards. Peering out the small window in the back door, I can already tell that I’m not going to be able to get out of here easily.

The chipped paint on my damn car is too recognizable, crappy enough compared to most that it’s noticeable.

“Juliette!” One of my few other coworkers, a woman just a few years older than me, is passing by, about to go to the over to switch out the batches of pastries.

Dark, curly hair swishing as she turns her head, she raises an eyebrow in question. She shifts her weight to one side of her body and places her hand on her hip in the way that women often seem to do when they’re trying to be intimidating.

“Do you think I could… borrow your car? Just for a bit today.”

She frowns slightly, her gaze narrowing. “What for?” She questions in a low voice, as if this is a big secret. Which I suppose, it kind of is.

“Paparazzi is following me,” I tell her honestly, knowing that with Juliette, I’m going to get nowhere by not telling the whole truth. The girl is a human lie detector, I swear. “Please, I’m begging you. They won’t notice me at all in your car, and I promise I won’t do any damage to it.”

With a sigh, Juliette finally shrugs and nods, fishing keys out of her pocket and flinging them at me. “I swear Marley, one scratch and I will personally skin you.”

Trying to keep from grinning, knowing that Juliette’s threats are usually empty, I nod and salute her, before checking out the window once more and dashing out to her car. Even being in a foreign car the whole drive to Harry’s, I still can’t help but feel a bit wary of it all.

Though the paparazzi seem to generally be made of sick people who like to butt into others’ lives, they’re not stupid. They’re pretty damn smart to figure out what they do actually.

No vans are following me though, no cars that even seem remotely like they’d belong to them. Even so, when I get to the flat complex Harry gave me and have him buzz me in through the gates, I’m always looking in my mirrors.

Though it really shouldn’t be such a surprise, considering what Harry actually does for a living, the five flats in the complex are nice, and I mean really nice. They’re tall and sleek looking, and honestly look like they belong to billionaires-, which I suppose they do.

Spotting the flat Harry put in the address, D, I cautiously drive over and park just next to another sleek, expensive looking car that I assume to be his.

As I’m making my way up the steps to his front door, I realize with a start that I have absolutely no idea what I’m going to say. I’m not trying to just make this an ordinary visit after all; I want to honestly figure out what’s going on.

To be honest, Harry could be playing me like the articles are saying. I know, it seems shallow and ridiculous, and he doesn’t seem like the type, but it’s very possible. He’s Harry freaking Styles, and this could all be some game to him for all I know.

“Marley,” he opens the door before I can even knock, a small, relieved smile spreading on his face. “Glad you got out of… wherever you were stuck.” I try and return the smile, but I know my uncertainty clouds it.

“Yeah, me too,” I tell him. “Listen, Harry-“

“Why don’t you come inside?” He steps back to welcome me in, but something doesn’t feel right about it. If this is all really a game, going in would be falling right into it, and I can’t afford to get hurt like that. Not after everything else.

“Actually, I think it’s better if I stay out here,” I say slowly, and his brow furrows in confusion. “Listen, I know you’ve seen what’s online about us and… I trust you because you don’t seem like the guy the media portrays you as, and you at least seem to genuinely like me, but,” I pause, my mouth suddenly feeling very dry. “I have to ask. You wouldn’t use me like that, right?”

I almost loathe myself for the look of hurt that appears on his face. His lips pout a bit and the crease between his eyes only deepens as he just stares at me for a moment.

“Never,” he finally says, shaking his head slowly. “I would never do that Marley, especially not to you. Especially after all you’ve been through. I genuinely care, I swear I’m not just trying to use you, I just want to help.”

It shouldn’t be that easy, it really shouldn’t, but something in his voice is so genuine that I can’t really argue. He really means it, and he’s hurt by the fact that I would even consider otherwise, but now I really see that he doesn’t seem capable of such a cruelty.

He’s still the Harry Styles I met in Leatherbound.

“I’m so sorry,” I breathe, unable to help myself as I step forward and hug him. For some reason, tears are pricking at the back of my eyes when he returns the hug and buries his head in my shoulder so his curls tickle my face, despite the height difference. “I’m so sorry Harry."

He pulls back after a moment, and I don’t know if it’s just my imagination, or if his eyes really do look that watery.

“Can I still come inside?” He only nods and steps aside, letting me in and closing the door behind me. It’s dead silent for a moment, and I can tell that neither of us really knows what to say now.

In the end however, he surprises me.

“Can I… confess something to you Marley?” He says, still standing by the door with his hands in his pockets. “Something really terrible?”

For a moment, the dead silence is back, but my mind is racing on what he could possibly want to confess. If he wanted to confess the articles being true, he still wouldn’t have let me inside, right? It has to be something else…

“Go ahead,” I say, and my voice sounds a bit unusually rough, and only then do I realize that I’m actually nervous for what he’s going to say.

He takes a deep breath and fixes his eyes on the floor for a moment, like he’s readying himself for what he’s going to say. After a moment, he looks up again and locks eyes with me before saying, “I always see what people say,”

Admittedly, I’m confused at first. What kind of confession is that? What does it mean? He sees what people say about… him? Us?

“What do you mean Harry?” I try to ask gently, taking a cautious step forward.

He bites his lip and seems to go through the whole self-readying process all over again before explaining. “I see everything people say about me. Like, I go online and look up shit about myself, what press say, fans, haters, everything. I see it all.”

My head spins for a moment as I take this in. Why would he want to see that kind of awful stuff about himself? Why would anyone want to?

In that few articles and comments that I read alone, it already was so cruel, so painful, I don’t know how to quite grasp the concept.

“Why would you-“ I cut myself off as he gestures to his laptop sitting on his coffee table by the couch, already open and growing.

Knowing that he’s telling me to go look for myself, slowly, I move over and sit down in front of the laptop, seeing that he has a window open with at least six or more tabs. The first one is the very same article that I read, the one about him using me. The next is a Twitter feed of #HarryShit trending again. The third is a Tumblr blog dedicated to Harry Styles hate. It goes on and on in a neverending list, and seeing some of the comments here and there, I still can’t understand why.

Though as I’m sitting there, staring at all these awful things, all directed at Harry, feeling his eyes on me from by the door, it suddenly hits me.

“He’s one of those people that don’t like to read what’s said about him… but he does anyway.”

The quote is from Niall on their first documentary film. I remember watching it with some old friends, long before all this and even the incident. They were discussing the hate that Harry gets, and only now do I truly understand what they meant.

“No,” I finally say, shutting down the whole window and closing the laptop. “I wish more than anything that I didn’t do that,” he says, gesturing to the computer, daring to move closer. “I think I’d be a lot happier in life if I didn’t but… I can’t not,” he looks confused, before sighing. “And I’ve realized that I make mistakes like everyone else, that I shouldn’t let it all get to me, but somehow it still does. And I have no idea why.”

Sucking in a breath, echoing Niall from the video, I say, “You don’t like to see it, but you do anyway…”

He nods slowly. “And I don’t know why. It’s just like, I have to see what they’re saying about me. I just can’t not know and pretend that they’re not even saying, because they are, someone always is.”

Though I feel bad for not realizing such a thing sooner, that this has become a sort of addiction to him, I understand. And now we’re a step closer to helping him, figuring out one of the main problems first. Now that we know, we can figure out a way to stop it.

When I voice this to him, he only smiles faintly before moving to sit next to me. “Okay,” he says slowly, glancing at the laptop only once before fixing his gaze on me. “We’ll help each other get past this. Together, we can do it, I’m sure.”

Notes

So this is kind of like the turning point in the story, I suppose. At least for now, haha. It won't be totally dark and depressing, but it'll still be a rollercoaster. This is my second update today, i'm so proud of myself :)