*Three Weeks Later*

Harry

It’s dark, and that’s all it is.

I walk blindly, helpless as a child, trying to feel my way through the blackness to any sort of light. I don’t know where I am or where I’m going. And for a moment, I almost wonder who I am.
Suddenly, a bright light ignites above me, a single spotlight leaving me standing in a perfect circle of warmth. Trying to peer beyond the light, I can faintly make out rows and rows of red felt seats, but they’re completely empty.

This is a stage.

I blink for less than a second and suddenly there is a microphone in front of me, sitting innocently in its stand. How did it get here? What’s happening, where am I?

I blink another time and a girl appears in the very first row, sitting with her head bowed, as if she’s fallen asleep.

“Hello?” I call, and my mouth is open but my voice doesn’t come out Frowning, I try again to no avail. Cautiously, I look around again and suddenly realize, the microphone is still there.

Something about this is wrong, the place, the girl, the sudden appearance of it all, but I can’t place what.

“Hello?” I try again, this time speaking into the microphone, and my voice comes out clear as ever.

The girl stirs suddenly, snapping her head up and staring straight at me. “Disgusting.” She says, her voice surprisingly loud, and I’m taken aback. Is she talking to me? Is she calling me disgusting? “You are disgusting.” She says slowly, as if reading my thoughts and answering my question.

“Excuse me?” My breath catches in my throat. What did I do to this girl for her to say that, I don’t even know her. I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to her in my life; she’s a complete stranger to me.

I blink again and suddenly two more girls have appeared by her side, staring at me as well.

“Manwhore!” One screams as the other smirks and says something I can’t make out, something muttered under her breath.

My heart pounds in my chest, jumping up to my throat and then down to my stomach again.

“What do you want?” I ask desperately, wanting to just move, to run, but I can’t. “Who are you?

"What’ve I ever done to you?”

I blink again and all the seats are all suddenly filled, filled with girls who call themselves fans, all screaming at me, creating an indecipherable ball of noise flying straight to where I stand.

And in that moment I remember exact who I am. I am Harry Styles.

“Please!” I begin to panic, trying to step back but finding my legs frozen in place. “Please! Tell me what I’ve done!

Don’t just scream at me, what’ve I done?”

I blink another time, and suddenly the boys are in front of me, Louis, Zayn, Niall, and Liam. They watch me just as closely as the girls all did, all relatively emotionless.

“Please,” I choke out, feelings relief wash over me. They’ll help me, they’ve got to. They’re always there for me; they’ll stop this somehow. “Help me.”

But none of them move. They continue to just stand and stare, and it’s almost as if they didn’t hear me. But I spoke into the microphone, I know it, and I don’t see how they couldn’t have heard me.

I’m scared now. I don’t know what’s happening, why it’s happening. I don’t know why I can’t move my legs, why the girls in the audience are still screaming at me like animals, or why the boys have suddenly appeared but refuse to help me.

“The band would be better off without you Harry.” Liam suddenly speaks, and his features mold into something almost mocking, smug and sadistic at the same time.

My heart sinks, they won’t help me. They’re just like the rest; they’ve turned on me too.

“Don’t touch him or you’ll catch the disease.” Louis sneers, and Niall laughs. His laugh sounds the same, loud and rambunctious, but it’s not. It’s cold, it’s heartless… these aren’t the same boys I know and love, they can’t be.

If they’re like this, I can’t be the real Harry Styles.

“He’s a walking STD, isn’t he?” Zayn smirks and turns to face the audience, throwing his arms wide as if in victory.

“Petition to remove the walking STD from One Direction! What do you all say?” He asks, and he’s not even raising his voice, but it carries clearly.

And then I realize, he doesn’t need a microphone. None of them do.

The crowd of girls all cheer in response. The spotlight shining on me that was once warm now feels cold, frosting my skin and chilling me to the bone.

This can’t be happening. Everyone can’t be against me; they can’t all be buying into the lies. I’m not a manwhore, I’m not walking STD, I’m not disgusting but… would they be better off without me?

Niall and Liam suddenly reach forward and grab me by the arms, pulling me to the edge of the stage with them. But they’re hanging me closer to the edge then themselves, and when I look down, I see that it’s completely pitch black, bottomless.

“Please, don’t do this,” I say, desperately struggling, but I don’t have the microphone and their grips are like iron. My voice is useless, nonexistent now. “You know me, both of you, all of you! You know who I am and I know who you are! And this is not it!”

But they don’t care. They let go, and I’m falling into the blackness, dropping down endlessly as the light gets smaller above me. I want to scream, I want to call for someone, but I can’t, I can’t do anything

And there’s nothing to catch me in the fall either.

I bolt upright in my bed, mouth open in the scream that I couldn’t make in the dream. My body is drenched in sweat and the sheets are twisted around my feet, trapping me in an awkward position.

A dream, that’s all it was.

I reach up and run my hands down my face, trying to steady my breathing again. It was just a dream, no, a nightmare. But it’s over now, and I’m safe, it’s okay.

Slowly, I next reach down and free myself of the sheets clinging to my ankles, trying to ignore the shaking in my fingers. After that, I get up and take a deep breath, taking in the surroundings of my bedroom to remind myself where I am.

It must be the hate that I’ve been getting lately. I mean, I’ve gotten that hate since the band first formed, we all have, but I’ve learned to ignore it… until now. For some reason, now it’s getting to me more than ever.

When I go downstairs to the kitchen to get some food for myself, I find that I can’t eat. My mind is buzzing, my hands are still shaking, and I feel slightly queasy.

I know where I need to go to clear my head for a bit. I need to go Leatherbound.

After dressing and grabbing the things I need, I walk out of my flat, letting out a huff of breath as the cold morning air hits me. It’s only about eight o’clock now, so it’s unlikely for the other boys to be up.

At least that’s what I think until I see Zayn across the complex, standing outside his flat and having a smoke.

I feel bad, but I try to sneak around unseen and ignore him when I make my way to my car. After that dream, I don’t know if I can properly look any of them in the eyes, at least until its effects wear off me a bit.

I drive in silence and walk into the cozy bookstore about fifteen minutes later, inhaling the slightly dusty aroma of brewing coffee and sugary pastries.

Leatherbound is a tiny bookstore, hidden in a rather remote part of the city. It’s got a quaint feel to it that seems to always relax me when I’m worked up or stressed out. There isn’t a huge population of people that go there, or even know about it probably, but it’s an absolutely perfect place to go when you need to think. Louis had been the one to introduce it to me; he said it was where he met his lovely girlfriend, Christine.

I have to admit, I get jealous of him sometimes, of all the boys. They have their pretty, nice girlfriends, and I just have myself. I’ve never wanted to get a serious girlfriend just because I’ve been afraid the fans would hurt her. They mean well, at least I think they do, but they’re so protective it’s hard to find someone even willing to put up with it all.

“Hello Harry,” the friendly woman at the front desk says, smiling lightly. “Back again I see.” She
looks curious, she always does, but she never asks questions. Something always tells me that she’s not curious because of who I am, but more why I’m here… why I always turn up here.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

I smile weakly in return, stuffing my hands in my coat pockets. “Thanks, I will.” Is all I reply with, wandering deeper into the store.

The silence is always nice here. I like the way you don’t have to fight to hear your own thoughts, that you can simply stop and think. It’s got the same effect on me as walking through a silent forest does, it’s calming, relaxing. It’s one of the few places I can feel truly at peace anymore.

Young Adult, Mystery, Parenting, Cooking…

The genres fly by me as I walk through the store, but I don’t even know where I’m going. I don’t have a certain destination in mind; I’m hardly even glancing at the many titles peering out at me from the shelves.

I continue like this, passing by row after row of books until I see someone standing in one of them, head bowed as if in thought.

She looks familiar somehow, like I’ve seen her somewhere else before. I backtrack and stop at the opening of the row, studying her silently with a slight frown.

Her hair is up in a messy bun, a few blonde strands hanging down. I can’t exactly see all of her face, but it looks pale and tired, somehow familiar. She’s got a book splayed out in her hands, and it's got a rather dark cover with dark lettering and artwork as well. Though it's too hard to read, it doesn't matter, because that's not really what makes me curious about the girl.

“Hello?” I clear my throat and the girl’s head snaps up, seeming surprised.

Her stormy grey eyes widen as they meet mine, and now with the perfect view of her face, I know exactly where I’ve seen her before. Her gaze travels slightly, taking in my person and I can practically see the gears turning in her head. She definitely recognizes who I am as well.

“Is there something I can help you with?” She asks, and her voice is small, smaller than I thought it would be. She sounds afraid almost, maybe even hurt.

I gulp and take a deep breath. I know she’s been through a lot lately, at least according to the articles I’ve read. But seeing her here in Leatherbound, in the flesh, I can’t help but be curious.

“You’re Marley,” I breathe, and I see a flicker of pain cross her face, but I can’t stop. “Marley Sorin, aren’t you?"

Notes

Here's the first official chapter, I always freak out if there isn't like seven chapters before I start reading because I think they will give up on the story. Maybe I just have trust issues whoops.