Harry

“Give me a cappuccino, would you?” I give the barista a tired smile, and she nods.

“Is that all for you today, sir?” She asks.

I nod as she goes off to make my drink, leaving me standing alone at the counter. I glance back to see Marley sitting at one of the small tables by the window, not really moving or seeing to notice anything around her.

I’m curious as to what goes on in her head. What does she think about that makes her look so pensive, so concentrated on seemingly nothing at all? Maybe I can find out when I talk to her, figure out what goes on in that little world of hers.

Part of me also wonders if the barista recognizes me, not that it matters that much. She was friendly as most people are, but her eyes didn’t light up in excitement, nor droop in distaste. She appeared to be around the appropriate age for a fan, or at least to know of me, mid twenties.

It’s just like Miriam. I’m ninety-five percent sure that she’s known who I am from the minute I first walked in, but she’s never said anything about it. Though she’s an older woman, sixties maybe, she always gives me this knowing look, like she knows everything about me yet she barely speaks about it.

But that’s another perk of Leatherbound I suppose, people don’t often know you for fame or fortune, and if they do, they don’t really care. They’ll treat you all the same, no matter who you are, no matter how big of a fan they may be. They know better, they know how to make you feel like any ordinary person, which is a nice change for once.

This place is like some sort of fairytale land almost. Everyone is in this happy world, and everyone is treated equally and humanely. Sometimes I think it’s too good to be true; that there’s no way there can actually be a place like this in existence. But every time I come back, it’s still here.

“Thank love,” I murmur as the barista reappears, digging money out of my pocket and passing it to her as she does the same with my drink.

“No problem,” she chirps happily, putting the money in the register and giving me a bright smile.

“Have a nice day now.”

Trying to return the smile, but finding the lack of sleep hitting me, I only lift the corners of my mouth slightly and take my drink, making my way over to sit across from Marley.

Her eyes don’t even flicker up at me when I sit down, and that just adds to the curious things I find about her. She’s not being rude, I can tell that much, but she’s stuck in that land of thought once again.

The girl across from me scratches her nails against the surface of the cup in her hands, seeming almost scared to say anything. She’s staring into the little cup of coffee as if it has all of life’s answers in it, and I find as I watch her face, that there’s something very fractured about her, maybe even broken.

“So what brings you to Leatherbound?” I finally ask, and her head snaps up almost as if I startled her.

Marley gulps and glances down at her cup again, before raising her gaze to meet mine. “This is… where I go to escape,” she says in a soft voice. “Where I go to get away from most everyone else.”

I find that answer interesting, considering the fact that I use it for the same reasons. To escape from all but a fractional percentage of the world, to have a place to hear your own thoughts and just think.

“What are you escaping from?” I question, though I have a feeling of what the answer will already be.

This is Marley Sorin after all, the girl I’ve read about in the papers for the past three weeks. This is the girl who everyone has been calling a monster and a coward, being blamed for her friend’s death.

I already told her that I don’t think she’s to blame. Personally, I believe that people’s fingers should be pointing at the monster with the gun, not this poor girl. Unfortunately, that man is still nowhere to be found, and when I told her I didn’t blame her, something tells me she didn’t believe me.

“What do you think?” She snorts bitterly, turning her head to gaze out the window, where light rain has begun to mist over the abandoned streets. “You obviously know who I am, what’s happened.”

Watching her face, I see her lip tremble ever so slightly, almost escaping my notice. But now that I’m looking I see how obviously there it is, how much just thinking about it pains her.
And I feel bad for bringing it up, but I’m sure it’s all she’s been thinking about as well. Maybe there’s even something regarding it that she needs to get off her chest.

“So you come here to get away from all the people,” I say. “All the blame.”

“I can’t escape blame,” she says, still gazing out the window. “I can never really escape all this; all the glares and the pity. But ever since the incident I… I don’t feel like I belong here anymore, not in this world.”

She laughs then, but it’s short and obviously not real. I can tell she’s avoiding my eyes because she’s scared of what she’ll see. She’s scared she’ll see the same thing she’s been seeing on everyone else’s face.

“Books… they just help somehow,” she says, and it seems as if she’s almost forgetting I’m there now. She’s drifting, into memories, into pain, into everything she’s been trying to keep from consuming her. “They help me escape. They’re completely different worlds, and sometimes I just wish I could jump into them, you know? Just stay there forever and never have to face anyone out here again."

I remain silent, lost in thought. She’s scarily similar to me, her reason for being at Leatherbound. I mean, I didn’t watch my friend die and have a gun pointed in my face, but I understand what it’s like to just want to escape.

Marley’s head finally turns to look at me again, the color matching that of the overcast sky. I find myself looking down at my own coffee cup, and I’m not sure why. Maybe I’m trying to avoid being questioned myself, or maybe I’m just unsure of what to say.

“So why are you, Harry Styles of all people, at Leatherbound?” She says.

I find myself frowning slightly at her phrasing, and the surprise she seems to have at this. People are always shocked when they see celebrities in public, and I’m sure I was too before fame, but sometimes I honestly wonder why. We’re people just like everyone else, we can go anywhere as simple as a bookstore for no reason at all.

“I guess… the same reason as you,” I say slowly, finding myself wondering why I can’t meet her gaze. “To get away from the world.”

She tilts her head to the side slightly, like a curious animal. “Why would you want to do that?” She questions, and I can detect the hint of bitterness in her voice. “Doesn’t the world love you?”

I smile slightly at the irony, but it hurts me to do so. I’m sick and tired of the fake smiles, so very, very tired, but the seem to work, seeing as Marley can’t even see it.

“Not all of it,” I mutter, finally finding the strength and courage to lift my head up again. “There’s actually a large portion that feels the opposite.”

She looks mildly surprised, but not enough to really throw me. She almost looks as if something has been confirmed for her, something that gives her a whole new level of depth about me.

“Is that what you meant when you said people can’t say anything worse than they already do?”

I bite my lip and find myself glancing out the window now, the rain coming down much harder, creating puddles on the sidewalks. “I guess so,” I say. “They already say such crap, I suppose this just adds to the pile. It can’t hurt me anymore.”

She’s giving me that curious look again, that look that makes me feel like I’m under a microscope. “But if that were true,” she says slowly. “You wouldn’t be here… would you?”

Somehow, she knows it’s a lie. Maybe it’s because she can see me, just like I can see her. I can see the twisted, broken hurt, and she can see the same in me.

But I’ve never thought of myself as broken, maybe hurt, but never broken. I still have a large amount of loyal fans, fans that protect and love me for who I am. They battle the ones that hate me, the ones that claim to be fans and friends.

But then why do I still feel so hurt?

“What’re you reading?” I finally say, clearing my throat and changing the subject slightly.

Marley’s eyes go to where I’m gesturing to the book on the table, the book with dark colors and design. This is the book that I had found her reading before, scanning the pages with a tired, but watchful eye, absorbing every detail.

“Oh,” she picks up the book and turns it over, so the front cover is facing up. “It’s called Hate List. I found it in the romance section, even though it’s really not…” she trails off slightly, still gazing at the cover of the book. “And the main character seems to have a lot in common with me.”

After saying that, she slides the book across the small table to me, turning it back around again so I can read the summary.

This girl, Valerie… I can see why Marley thinks they have so much in common. The shooting, loved ones dying, the blame, the hate, the guilt…

I don’t know why someone in Marley’s situation would want to read something like this though, wouldn’t it just bring back painful memories? Hopefully it has a happy ending at least, then maybe it’ll give her hope, give her confidence to stay on her feet through this.

“Why do you let all the people get to you?” I finally ask, passing the book back to her.

She looks at me for a long moment before answering. “I could be asking you the same thing,” she says.

This girl is so curious, so much more different than people make her out to be. She’s not cowardly and selfish, though I’ve never believed her to be. She’s scared; she’s hurt, yet no one seems to really realize it.

“I think we should meet again,” I say avoiding the previous topic for the second time. “I like talking to you.”

Marley looks down and smiles slightly, and this time I can’t tell if it’s genuine or not. “We’re two very different people Harry,” she says slowly. “From very different worlds. And I’m sorry, but I’m trying to get out of the media. I don’t want people to say terrible things anymore, about you or me. I just… I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Shifting forward slightly in my seat, I rest my arms on the table and look straight at her. “Have you ever thought that maybe we’re all each other needs? Someone to relate to, someone to help us get by?"

She looks skeptical, but I can see her body relax slightly. “Let’s just… let’s just try not to make our friendship public, alright?” She asks, and I can almost hear a plea under her tone. “For your sake and mine. You know press watches us both like hawks.”

I nod at the truth in her words and dig out my phone, sliding it to her to punch in her number. She does so and hands it back, making me smile slightly at her name under the M’s of my contacts.

“I’ll call you sometime,” I tell her, standing and finishing off my drink. “And you call me, alright? For… for anything.”

Her eyebrows rise slightly, and I can tell that she’s surprised, but trying to cover it up. “I will Harry,” she smiles slightly. “Thanks for… this. For everything. You’re honestly the last person I expected to find here, today.”

“I could say the same about you,” I chuckle, and she smiles.

Neither of us really seem to know what to do then, just walk away, hug, shake hands, or any many number of other gestures of goodbye.

Finally, I make up my mind and pull her into a one armed hug, tugging her gently against my side. “Don’t forget me,alright?” I say, and she only laughs, yet this one sounds more genuine than ever.

“How could I?” She says, pulling away and beginning to walk away. “See you around Harry.” She flashes me one small smile before turning the corner and disappearing from sight.

Yes, Marley is one of the most intriguing people I’ve ever met. And I can’t help but think maybe this I just what I need, what we both need, to find someone, a friend, who knows at least half of what we’re feeling.

The world seems just as terrible as when I walked in an hour or two earlier, but the grayness of the sky suddenly doesn’t seem so depressing

Notes

Wow 5 votes already:) Goodnight everyone, here's a little fact for you, goodnight was a shortened version of ''God bye'', which was also a shortened version of ''God be with you.''