"Always love yourself above all else. Be selfless. Give when someone's in need. But never let anyone make you feel like you're less than you're worth. If someone hurts you, don't let it beg the question 'why me?' or 'why do people hurt me?' Tell yourself you won't let them hurt you because you deserve the world, my darling sunshine."

Her mom's speech floats in her head as she stares at the underside of the mattress above her bunk. The distant memory of her mom's face is burned into the insides of her eyelids, there to comfort her every time she shuts them.

Goldie's sadness isn't only the result of Harry's crude behavior at the radio interview. It's also the anniversary of the day her world collapsed in on her. The anniversary of when her mom passed away. It was years ago but on this day every year it felt new again. Her body convulses with every sob, then shakes from the sudden stop of the bus.

Light peers through the thick curtain of her bunk for a second as a familiar large hand sneaks through. Harry's apologetic paw places something on her shoulder while keeping the rest of his body hidden. His hand lingers, almost touching her arm, but pulls away before contact. He can feel the heat of her emotional skin as his fingertips slip up the sheets and back out of the curtained bunk.

"I miss you," he whispers softly. So softly, in fact, it's as though she isn't meant to hear it.

She wipes the moisture from her face and reaches over to grab Harry's delivery - a Snickers bar. The sound of his footsteps slowly dissipates, joining the rest of the band as they leave the bus.

Harry and Goldie haven't spoken to one another in over a week. They were used to quiet but not like this. It was the first time they had explored true love and appreciation, as well as the real pain that comes along with it. The two are trekking and creating new paths on the moon, in a universe filled with living organisms, stars, and planets, only to feel more alone and insignificant than ever.

With New York in view, so comes the last stop on the tour. This is when Goldie and Harry, as well as the band, should be taking advantage of the time they have left together. Yet Goldie has isolated herself, using this time to self reflect and write her article. Her original purpose. The moment at The Orphans radio interview brought a lot of inadequacies into focus. She worries she's lost focus of that.

* * *

"Jimmy! So great to hear your voice." Goldie stands in a phone booth on the curb outside their hotel.

"For the last time, it's 'dad' to you." Jimmy's chuckle crackles through the distance of the telephone wires and open air. Goldie can practically smell the waffles cooking and feel the beach air against her face. "How's it going over there?"

"Um..." Goldie peers through the glass pane of the booth at the band standing at the front entrance of the hotel. They all talk to each other, the hustle and bustle of the traffic zooms past them. Harry catches her line of vision and perks up. He aggressively waves, hoping to catch her attention. But Goldie turns her back to him and continues her conversation with her father. "It's alright. Maryland and Pennsylvania were great. In New York now. Last stop before coming back to L.A."

"Michelle," Jimmy says, a hint of reprimandation in his voice. "Tell me what's going on."

"You know, dad. It's the anniversary of... you know... mom's -"

"It's more than that. I can hear it, sweetie. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Being away from home is getting to me is all." Goldie twirls her finger through the telephone cord. "I just needed to hear your voice. We'll be back soon. I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Bye, dad."

"Wait. Sweetie? Are you there?"

"Yeah?"

"Take care of yourself, okay? I can hear hurt in your voice. You don't have to tell me. I can tell you aren't ready. Promise me you won't put walls up though. I know you. Still be open to people."

"Okay, dad. I love you." Goldie hangs up the phone. A barrage of images flash before her eyes. All of Harry's attempts to get back in her good graces. Flowers left on the kitchen counter with special notes. Singing songs on the side of the bus with lyrics dedicated to her. Her favorite snacks popping up in the fridge and pantry while on the road. Attempts to do her favorite activities. Harry was trying with all his might to earn Goldie's forgiveness but the one thing she needs more than anything is an explanation and she hadn't received that.

"Hey," Harry's voice startles her. She didn't realize he'd stepped up to the side of the booth, awaiting her exit. "We're, um, in a room together. I hope that's okay?"

Goldie silently nods.

"We're going to be in New York for a bit. If it's an issue, I can switch with Mitch or-"

"It's fine," Goldie cuts him off.

Tell me what's happening. Confirm you didn't mean what you said. Please, tell you want to take it all back. You aren't using me.

Agreeing to share a room with him, if even for just a portion of the trip, could buy her the time she needs.

"Maybe we can talk?" Harry drops his head with his tail between his legs. "There's so much I need to get off my chest. I want to make sure you understand."

"Harry, stop. We'll talk, okay? Just let me have a moment to think. That's all I ask." She grabs her bags at her feet. Harry attempts to be chivalrous and grab them from her, but she refuses to hand them over. "I got it. See you in the room."

Goldie feels empowered. She won't shut herself out from the world because of his vulgar comment. She can build herself back up. She stomps into the hotel with a new sense of pride. A new found sense of self.

* * *

Muzak in the elevator plays lightly. Goldie and the band stand awkwardly on the way up to the tenth floor. They were divvied up - Mitch with Grimmy. Niall with Matt and Jonesy. Then Goldie and Harry. Although the band was against Harry and Goldie sharing a room, they knew it was high time for them to make amends, at least for the sake of the final stop of the tour.

Harry scoots closer to Goldie on the short ride up. "You look really pretty today," he whispers in her ear.

"Thanks," Goldie drops her head. "I can take Pig and Blob on a walk later if you need it, Grim! I know you've been driving all night," she volunteers. Grimshaw turns his head and nods in agreement, knowing the offer was more of a distraction from the weird tension in the small vessel's journey to their floor.

The walk down the hallway seems infinite. Mitch, Matt, Grimmy, Jonesy and Niall all disappear into their respective rooms, looking back as Harry and Goldie continue their journey forward.

The two enter in complete silence. Setting her bags on the ground on the side of her full-size bed, she lays her back against the springy mattress. Who will break the silence first?

"You have to let me explain," Harry interrupts the tension. He paces at the far side of their room, formulating his explanation. It isn't contrived or fake. It's the desperate speech he's been waiting to give since they first parted paths after the radio interview. "Will you listen to me? All I need is a few minutes."

"Okay," Goldie responds, sitting up. She can't face him directly. Her face is turned in his general direction but her eyes stay locked on the dark blue hotel room carpet. The scratchy material is a needed diversion. She focuses on the tacky color. The cheap material it's made of.

Harry sits next to her on the foot of the bed. Considering his past, he's never been one to open up unless physically close. "Can I sit here?"

"That's fine. Can you just say what you need to say?" Goldie grasps her hands in her lap. The words he said in the interview reverberate off the corners of her mind.

Ever have sex with a chick while on shrooms?

"I've always been this person. This guy everyone expects me to be. I go through groupies like they're nothing. I drink as much as I want. This is what the crowd wants me to be. For a while, I thought that's who I actually was." Harry runs his fingers through his long locks in frustration. "Then you came along and you made me question all of that. I don't know who I am anymore. I want this band to succeed and I've been put in this position where I think the only way that can happen is if I'm this... a self absorbed shell of a human. I bought into that. I genuinely thought that's who I was. Shit, maybe that is who I am... but you. Fuck. You, Michelle. You turned that upside down for me. Don't you understand that? I haven't been able to think of anything else but you since the moment I saw you in the crowd at that first show in California. Then when you came walking up in the parking lot. I thought 'this is destiny.' I've never had those types of thoughts before EVER. I've been lost this entire time and didn't even know it until you found me. But I don't know how to be found, Michelle. I want to stay in this life with you but it scares the shit out of me thinking I'll never be enough for you. It keeps me up at night."

Harry turns his body towards her and grabs the sides of her face.

"What am I supposed to say to all this, Harry?" Goldie asks, starting to cry.

"You don't have to say anything. I can't live with myself knowing you think you mean less to me than you actually do because the truth is, you mean everything to me. The thought of not stepping onto the stage and seeing your smile in the crowd panics me. It shakes me to my very core and the fact that I feel something so deeply for someone is so unfamiliar. I have no clue how to process any of it. I love the guys. I love the fans. But never in my life have I felt so lost at the mere THOUGHT of not having someone in it." Harry presses his forehead against hers. His body shakes as he struggles to find his words. "You found me and made me feel at home with myself for the first time in my entire life. You showed me what it was like to be an honest man and I don't want to lose that. This last week has been absolute torture.

"Harry," she mutters his name, begrudgingly letting her wall down. Stubbornly opening up once again and heeding her father's advice without thought. "This is too much. The tour has to end. We're going to have to say 'bye' eventually whether we like it or not. Maybe it's best to start creating that distance now."

"Belle," Harry says, kissing up the side of her face slowly. "I've lost count of the number of times I wanted to kiss your cheek or hug you. I'm fucked without you, Michelle. I love you."

"Harry, I -"

"Hey!" Grimshaw bangs on the door of Harry and Goldie's room. "We had an invite waiting for us at the front desk. You guys interested in going to Studio 54?"