Chapter Eight

Have you ever really forgotten someone? Be close to them and forget them to a point where you don't even remember their name their face? No? I haven't either. All those kids in your primary school class that you haven't spoken to in years, one photo and suddenly you're sprung with at least a few memories.

But forgetting someone completely is a totally different story. We make our lives based on the relationships we have with other people. All the scars and the wounds and the patch jobs make us who we are, for better or for worse. Some things in life I regret, sure, but even I'll admit they made me who I am. Your life is your memories, so what if I hold onto them a little too strongly?

To truly forget something, though. To not even remember someone's name or face or favourite color. That seems like the saddest thing in the world.

*****

In my dream I was back home. Not London, Mullingar. In a lot of ways London felt more like home than Mullingar ever did, but after calling it home for eighteen years it was kind of hard to allow somewhere else to fully claim you.

In my dream I was with my brothers. Known as Lucas, Alexander and Samuel by birth, they were more commonly referred to as Luke, Alex and Sam, and were about the biggest pain in my arse to ever have existed. Well, besides Harry. And I loved them each to death.

I was with Alex, specifically. I had thrown a party for Lizzie's 17th birthday when our parents were out of town, which he had helped me plan (Lizzie's really like another sister to my brothers, they'd give her the world if she wanted) and then pointed his sticky fingers at me when Mum found out about it. So of course I had to get my revenge.

That had really happened (Liz was mortified) but the dream was different from the actual thing. For one thing, Alex had curly hair, instead of the straight locks we shared. At first I thought it was Lucas because of the hair, but Luke was shorter and blonde. It was definitely Alex. He was asleep.

Sam had agreed to keep watch on the door, but that was a fickle bargain. Sammy was just along for the ride, for the fun and the story. He didn't actually care about the outcome. I turned the knob and flinched when it made a clicking noise. No one moved, so I continued on with my journey. His room looked different, too. Far neater and geekier than Alex's would ever be. Creeping over to the bed, I took a look down at Alex. I knew by now that it was a dream because he was dressed as a clown for the birthday party, which certainly had not happened.

I rolled the egg over in my left hand, cracking it just at his hairline. The yolk broke and ran down the sides of his face in clear, sticky lines. Stuffing the eggshell back in the bag, I produced the jar of honey, drizzling that farther back so it would get stuck in his hair. Alex loved his hair for some reason. For a little extra slice of revenge pie, I pulled out the maple syrup we kept stored in the fridge. The bottle was chilly.

After all, revenge is a dish best served cold.

I tilted it upside-down and added it to the honey, then going back over his face on second thought. There was my mistake. His left hand moved to his face, smacking it in half-slumber. My eyes widened as I saw brain start to register what had happened as he started to blink repeatedly, waking up.

"What the-" He sat up and opened his eyes. "ALLISON! AUGHHHH!" He screeched as I ran from the room.

"ALLISON," someone yelled again as Alex's room started to melt away. "WHAT THE FUCKING HELL DID YOU DO?"

I turned my head, slowly realizing this was no longer a dream. My eyes snapped open and looked into the open door of the bathroom, which sat in perfect view from my bed. And there stood Harry in front of the mirror, pulling at his curly hair and screaming his head off.

So that was why Alex had curly hair.

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. Harry's hair was a mess. A sticky, liquid, beautiful mess. Beautiful because it was my doing. Niall had caught me in the kitchen last night putting everything away. It was lucky he hadn't seen what it was, he knew the Alex story all too well and probably would have woken Harry up immediately. 

Everybody knows how Harry feels about his hair. He'd practically famous for those stupid curls. They're like his identifier. He had hit me, and I needed to hit him back. Harder. Exactly where I knew it would hurt the most.

When I had done that to Alex, he hadn't been too happy either. Actually, that's an understatement. He chased me around the house for a solid 15 minutes until I locked myself in my room. He screamed at me for a few minutes through the door until he gave up once he knew I wasn't coming out. But that was it, he knew I had a legitimate reason for doing it, and he respected that. At the supper table that night he didn't say a thing about it to Mum, just asked me to simply 'pass the peas, please.'

I wasn't entirely sure what to expect from Harry, but I didn't really think it would be that. I just figured it would cause him to hate me even more.

See, my point wasn't just to piss him off. Okay, that was part of it, but my real goal was just to prove to him that he shouldn't mess with me. I wanted to outdo him to the point where he would leave me alone. That was always how it went with my brothers, you kept going until someone knew they were out-maneuvered and gave up. 

I jumped down from the bunk and stretched, pulling my arms over my head. "Mornin', Harry."

He whirled around and marched over to face me, jamming his finger towards my face. "You, you did this."

I rolled my eyes but still smiled, proud of myself for being the one to think of this first. "Who, me? I would never."

"Look at me! It'll take me hours to get this out if ever, and Lou will have a fit when she sees it!" He looked back again in the mirror, moaning again at his reflection.

"Oh, relax. It'll all come out in the shower. I'm sure you have access to the best maple syrup-removing products money can buy." I took another look at him. "I must say, though, you've, ah, you've looked better." I tried to stifle a laugh again but a giggle slipped out.

"You think this is funny?"

"A little bit, yeah."

He shook his finger at me again before motioning to his head. "You are so going to pay for this one, Moore. We have a show tonight!"

"Ooh, last name. How intimidating," I replied sarcastically before sidesweeping him to step into the bathroom. "Bring it on, Styles." I spun my finger around. "Now turn around and close the door so I can get ready."

"We're not finish-" he started.

"I think we are," I said, closing the door to the bathroom before he could continue. I was in a delightful mood, humming to myself softly as I pulled on a pair of red, high-waist shorts and a white, flowing crop top with seahorses on it that I had grabbed on my way down from the bed. I brushed my teeth a little longer than usual so Harry had to wait to clean his hair. 

Mornings really are nice, don't you think?

*****

Later that day, Lizzie and I were hanging in the makeup room with Charlie. The boys were rehearsing in the stadium for their next show tonight. I pulled my knees close to my chest and spun around in the black chair.

I pushed the soft white fabric of a sheet mask against my face, folding it on my upper lip so the product wouldn't go in my mouth. Lizzie had hers on already, since she hadn't needed to take her makeup off first. She slightly resembled the guy from Friday the 13th. Unless its a special occasion, she usually only wore mascara, unlike me who's constantly keeping track of when the next Tarte palette is coming out. She claims it's because she's lazy and doesn't know how to do it well, but the truth is that Liz would much rather sleep in than get up 20 minutes earlier to do makeup.

"I try to go back to Korea once a year," Charlie was saying, in the midst of telling us about how she moved every couple years between Georgia and Seoul as a kid, since that's where her dad and mum were from, respectively. "And no kidding, I bring an extra bag to fill with makeup and sheet masks and products and stuff to last me while I'm gone." 

"I don't blame you," I replied. "This thing smells amazing." It was a moisturizing mask that smelled like lavender, and it was making me a little sleepy. 

"Hold up," Charlie said while she set a timer for the mask. "We need music." She walked over to the stereo and hit a button and very loud music started filling the room. Charlie started dancing around, holding her hands to her face to keep the mask in place while scream-singing on her way back. I threw my head back and laughed, joining in.

We quieted down after a few minutes, since we were out of breath. "So, Charlie," Liz started.

"Mhmm?" she replied without looking up.

Liz pretended to put a microphone in front of her mouth like a television host. "What's it like being a makeup artist for One Direction, anyway?"

Charlie thought for a moment. "Weird. I mean, they're all awesome, but it's weird being so close to all this fame and stuff. I'm afraid the fans are going to find out about me and I'll have a mob of Directioners sliding into my DMs!" she replied, laughing.

Lizzie chuckled. "They're not always as bad as you think. I mean, the limited amount of hate I get is amazing."

My eyebrows flew to the top of my head. "You get hate?"

She shrugged. "Sure. But I know it doesn't matter, they don't actually know me or Niall." Lizzie is kind of amazing like that, insults just sort of roll off her back like water on a bird.

"The boys are really great, though," Charlie piped up. 

"Yeah, they are. So what's going on with you and Harry?" Lizzie asked cheekily, nudging her with her elbow.

Charlie blushed. "Nothing. He...he seems nice. They're all nice." She looked at me. "Besides, it's pretty obvious that you and he have a thing. The whole crew was talking about this prank war you guys seem to have gotten yourself into."

I snorted. "Me and Harry? Hell no, that's ancient history."

Charlie's eyes widened. "Oh, I'm sorry, I just thought...I didn't mean-"

I waved a hand while unlocking my phone with the other. "Forget about it, seriously. I hardly even think about that...that...bastard!" I finished when I saw my phone.

My background had been changed to a picture of him. My camera roll was filled with his selfies. I clicked on my Twitter app and saw he had changed all of my social media stuff to 'I_love_Harry' or similar. I tried to call him to tell him off, but he changed the names of all of my contacts so I had no idea who was whom. "I hate him!"

Ironically, I probably would have laughed if I wasn't so pissed off. It was a pretty good prank, actually.

Lizzie, however, had no qualms about appreciating Harry's prank, and began cackling from her makeup chair. "It didn't really end well for the two of them," she said to Charlie with a smile. 

Charlie held up an eyeliner from the cosmetic table. "Well maybe the two of you should: make-up." She and Lizzie burst out laughing and started trading bad jokes for the next hour while I planned my revenge.

*****

I waited inside the tour bus until I heard them outside, heading back to the bus after rehearsal to hang out before the show. They were laughing and joking around like normal until they noticed.

"Hey, what's on top of the bus?"

Suddenly I heard four people howling with laughter. "Harry, is that yours?"

I took that as my cue to walk outside. "Evening, gentlemen." My gaze followed theirs to the top of the tour bus, where I had taken all of Harry's clothing, electronics, and any other portable object and put it on the top. It had taken a little over 45 minutes, required the help of Lizzie and Charlie and a ladder, but it was so worth it. A pair of his underwear flew from the antenna like a flag.

Harry stood in front, his jaw hopping up and down like a fish while he tried to think of something to say. "Allison!" Harry growled finally through gritted teeth. "It's supposed to rain!" 

I shrugged. "Sorry, your stuff started to reek, so I figured it needed to be aired out." Suddenly, Harry's phone rang from a pile atop the vehicle. He had left it back at the bus to charge. "Harry, would you get that love?"

*****

I shivered against the cold air as I stepped out of the shower later that evening. Wrapping my hair in a towel, I pulled on my pajamas and wiped the steam from the mirror to apply my usual nightly moisturizer. Satisfied, I pulled the towel off my head to brush my hair and immediately began to scream.  

And that was the last straw.

Song: White Flag by Joseph