Song: 'From the Dining Table' – Harry Styles

Wednesday, 11th December 2014
The London Studios, Lambeth, London, SE1 9PP, England.

My Darling Natasha,

After I ripped your letter in two, the pieces slipped from my fingers and floated to the floor. I turned away as if in protest, unable to comprehend what I had read. I paced and as my boots trampled over the paper, your written words trampled over my heart.

I frantically searched for any sign of you. Your trainers were not by the running machine, your magazine was not on the breakfast bar, and your coat that you wore when we walked on the Heath, the one that you always left on the hook, was gone. It was as though you had never set foot in my house.

I ran upstairs taking two at a time and rushed into the bedroom. No hairband by your side of the bed, no vest-top under your pillow, my toothbrush lonely by the sink. It was then I caught sight of the brown box sticking out from under the bed. The lid was half off and the unmistakable black leather and red soles rested neatly inside. You had left them behind; the gift I had given you only a few weeks before. The Louboutins had brought us both such joy. I sank to my knees and put my head in my hands. I was trying to think but my mind could not register that all trace of you was gone.

I raced back downstairs and snatched the paper off the hall floor. The two pieces, dirtied by my boots, shook in my hands as I held them together. The page was a mass of scribbles, suggesting you had written it quickly. In places the ink had run but my boots were not wet. The thought that your tears stained the page tore through me. My fist pushed onto my lips trying to hold onto my emotions.

It was always the same.  From the panic attack after our first date, to the rearing of the demons of your past when you first stayed at Eskdale, to the interference into our relationship from Brazen, to the fall and kicking incident during the US tour, you had done what you always did when your emotional state takes over. You pushed me away and you ran.

I had no idea about the fertility issue and I did not understand it. Had all the sex we had in the week up to me going away been too full on, had I hurt you in some way? Was this my fault? Had I caused it? Time would tell me that none of that was true but right then and there in the confusion, I felt unimaginable guilt.

I needed answers but most of all I needed you. I grabbed my keys and raced to your house. My heart rate spiked when I saw your car was outside. My frantic knocks were met by one of your housemates. She thought I would have known you had gone to Spain to visit your Dad. When you had suggested leaving on the Tuesday for a few days to recuperate, I supported the idea. You had clearly pulled the date forward.

Helpless and standing alone on your doorstep, I called your phone. Voicemail.  At the sound of your happy greeting, I closed my eyes and breathed hard. I text your phone. No response. Perhaps you were still at the airport?

I drove half way to Heathrow before I pulled into the layby and rested my head on the steering wheel. What was I doing? It was a fruitless search. I did not know if you were even flying from Heathrow or what time your flight was or with which airline.  I did not know anything anymore. I felt as though everything I held dear had been slapped out of my hands in one fell swoop. I turned the car around and headed home.

Little sleep came that night. I continued to call and text you until I thought it was too late in Spain to carry on. I sat staring at my phone. I prayed that you would answer one of my calls. I prayed that you would reply to one of my texts. Each time my phone made any sound, it was never from you.

In the end I called your Dad. We talked for over an hour. He pacified my guilt; I pacified his worry. We eased each other's pain over you. During our conversation it became apparent that he did not know the extent of what was going on. He told me you just needed time. He asked me to give you that time and to keep my distance. At first, I refused. In my mind I was already on the first plane I could book that day to see you but he made me promise. At that point I had lost all trust in everyone and everything. He was the only person who knew you as well as I did and because of that, I respected his words. His hope would become all I clung onto.

The 'Four' album promo focus became my saviour. As the rest of the free downloads were released, the band recorded Night Changes at the Royal Variety Performance at the London Palladium. We met the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge and I congratulated Kate on her pregnancy. As the ultimate professional is expected to do, I held it together. Outside and away from the spotlight, I broke down.

Night Changes was released as a single and we performed at BBC Children in Need the same evening. The following day, the Band Aid 30 charity single, 'Do They Know It's Christmas', was recorded at Sarm West Studios in Notting Hill. The band then flew to Orlando for the Universal Studios album launch event. Any reluctance I had about travelling to the States was dismissed because we were already a man down. Zayn was ill and he did not fly. I could not let the others down so I forced myself go.

The launch was a success, apart from speculation over Zayn and substance abuse fired at us in an interview by Matt Lauer. Liam took control of the interview whilst I kept my mind pre-occupied with thoughts of you to stop me from losing it in front of the vast crowd of fans. The subsequent ride interview with Liam as question master to the three of us could not have been more ironic if it tried.  Despite my dislike of rollercoasters, it was an exact metaphor for my emotions and that alone produced a smile.

Not all days were bad days but on the days that were work kept me sane, hotel rooms provided me with solitude to wallow and sometimes, the bottle gave me an escape. It was mostly my journal that took a hammering as my emotions poured from my heart through the pen and onto the page.

The album received great reviews, as did the Night Changes video that came out on our return from the US. The American Music Awards in LA gifted us three awards: artist of the year, favourite band, and favourite album for Midnight Memories. We were riding high professionally and although I celebrated the success, personally I was sinking further into the depths of my unhappiness without you.

Every day I missed you. Some days I ached for you. Some days I cried for you. Some days I felt nothing for you. Some days I snapped liked a petulant child over you. Some days I was withdrawn thinking about you. Some days I shouted at everyone because of my frustration over you. Some days I hated you for hurting yourself, hurting us, and hurting me. Some days I was so angry that I vowed if you contacted me I would not speak to you. Of course I was kidding myself about that. Whatever I felt on whatever day, you were sewn into the fabric of me and ultimately I loved you but the little bit of occasional rebellion over us eased me through those difficult days.

We flew to Amsterdam for RTL Late Night. Looking back on that interview now I looked so uninterested. Afterwards, the team went out but I was feeling unsociable so I sloped back to the hotel. Even though I did not drink beer, I needed a release that night and beer became my best friend. I drank until I could not stomach the taste. It was not enough though so I lined up shots along the bar and downed them in quick succession. Now I did not have the distraction of work to blot everything out, the alcohol had to take its place. I got so smashed that I lurched when I walked and slurred when I spoke.

It was not enough to wipe my mind of you though and I turned my thoughts to sex. I wanted and needed it. I scanned the bar and noticed the young woman glancing my way. Through my blurred vision she was your exact looks-wise. She acted all coy and kept smirking towards me then looking away. These were tedious games I had no time to play. When her friend left her sitting at the bar, I stumbled over.

As I stood next to her, my tight grip upon the brass bar rail was all that kept me upright. The line of bottles and their labels along the optics zoomed in and out of focus then my eyes caught her reflection in the mirrored wall. 'Floor eight, five minutes' tumbled drunkenly out before I staggered towards the elevator.

I tripped over my feet as I stepped in. As the doors slowly closed, I could see the girl who I had propositioned but whose name I did not know, had gathered her bag and jumped off her stool.

My forehead rested against the glass for a close up of my reflection. Black bags puffed beneath my bloodshot eyes and my skin was blotchy where I had not been taking care of myself. My intoxication bounced off the mirror and my booze-breath hit me straight in the face. My mind screamed 'fuck it, do not overthink this. You want sex so just have it.'

When the doors pinged open, I stepped out onto an empty floor. Security who usually held a presence in the corridors was nowhere. I leaned up against the wall for support and less than five minutes passed before the other elevator arrived.

I strode down the corridor and introduced myself. She said she knew who I was and her name was Amber. At the door, I fumbled with the card and dropped it but she retrieved it before I gestured her inside.

The room was dark apart from the lights of the city on display through the open-curtained window. She walked over to the bed and threw her bag down on top of the covers. When she turned I launched at her, cupping her face with my hands and connecting my parched lips desperately onto hers. I eased her back against the wall, forcing our bodies together. The kisses were volatile as she moaned into my mouth and ran her nails down the back of my shirt.

This was not passion, it was purely a sexual release but I felt numb and my dick was lifeless from the alcohol speeding through my system. However much I tried to suppress my feelings, her perfume was not yours, her hair was shorter than yours and felt rough between my fingers, her lips were dry not soft like yours, her body did not fit into mine like yours, her touch was not your touch that drove me wild with desire. She was not you and I wanted her to be. My eyes were closed and your smiling face appeared. That is when I uttered the immortal word into her mouth, 'Natasha.'

Everything ceased. She pushed against my shoulders and held me at arms length. The palm of her hand connected to my cheek with such force that the sting was instant, as was the confirmation of her name.

Her sobering strike elicited 'sorry' from within me. My hands covered my face as I sank onto the edge of the bed. I expected to hear the hotel door open then close as she stormed out. Instead, she knelt down in front of me and grabbed my wrists to pull me away from my hiding. She studied me before she spoke the words of truth I have never forgotten.

'My God, you really are absolutely so in love with her aren't you?'

Confused over the whole surreal situation, I asked her how she knew. She sarcastically pointed out I had moaned your name into her mouth but she said it was written all over my face. I explained you had left me. She countered that having sex with the first girl who caught my eye was not the answer if I wanted any chance of getting you back. I was also a lucky son of a bitch as if I had approached her friend she would already have been riding my dick whilst calling the media to let them know!

Amber had supported the band since 2011 and had been in the audience earlier that night. When she found out she was staying at our hotel she could not believe it, let alone when I had propositioned her at the bar. She thought me invincible but there I was sitting defeated over the stuff I sang about with such purpose and meaning. Love. She said I was not the man she imagined.

I replied I was only human, albeit an idiot human and repeated my apology again. That is when she asked where my spirit was. Love was not supposed to be easy. If I wanted you I needed to fight for you and never give up. Her words were meaningful but it was too late we lost something and it tore us apart, She shook her head and said it was never too late.

I thanked her for not letting me screw up. She smiled and rubbed my red cheek.  I managed a chuckle and said I deserved it. She laughed as she pecked my lips, grabbed her bag and headed towards the door. I called after her with another apology and used her name. She turned and with a smirk told me to keep fighting and with that she was gone.

In the sober light of day, I breathed a huge sigh of relief over the night before. I had Amber to thank for that. I travelled back to London with my head and intentions much clearer.  The hope you would get in touch never diminished.  I worried that you thought I did not care because I had abruptly stopped contacting you.  I decided I could not start 2015 and the huge stadium tour with so many unanswered questions hanging over me. Once promo was finished, I would call you.

A new week and we filmed the Graham Norton show. I liked Graham but his line of questioning about some new song lyrics of mine that had been leaked online earlier that week tested my resolve. My reluctance to entertain his persistence resulted in Zayn's hair at the AMAs eventually dragging the spotlight away from me.

We exited the studios to our waiting cars. Luckily, we could get in the cars out of sight and drive straight out the gates. I loved meeting the fans and usually gave them as much time as I could but on this day, I was not in the mood for photos or niceties.

I sat in the back of the blacked out Mercedes as it drove through the London evening traffic. Tired, I rested my head back against the soft leather headrest and closed my eyes. I thought that my mobile was quiet and then I realised I had switched it off during the interview. It sprang to life then a series of beeps signalled a number of text messages had come through. Scrolling down the messages, I really could not be bothered to read most of them until I saw your name amongst the list.

**Hi Harry, I owe you more than I have had the courtesy to explain. If you are free before Christmas, I would really welcome an opportunity to see you. Tasha**

My heart thumped inside my chest as I held my device in my sweaty palm. The hope I had clung onto for dear life over the last weeks had been answered. You wanted to see me. Did you want to get back together? But then I stopped myself and re-read your text again. It read so politely and impersonal, almost business like in its language and you signed it 'Tasha'.

I pushed the negative thoughts from my mind. I wanted to see you again and you had given me the chance. It took three unsuccessful attempts at wording my response so as not to scare you off. In the end, I decided to copy your lead and stripped the sentiment out completely. No 'My', 'Your', or desperation, I kept it simple.

**Hi Natasha, that would be great, let me know when you are free this week. Harry .x**

I pressed send and your reply was almost immediate.

**I am free tomorrow night if you are. Shall we meet at 7.30pm at The Flask in Highgate? Tasha**

I saw no reason to delay my response in order to check my diary. It did not matter if I had other plans, I would have changed them to see you.

**Yes, tomorrow night, 7.30pm, The Flask. See you then. Harry .x**

My love is always yours, H.x

PS: As I promised your Dad I would, I had waited for you to come to me. Now that waiting was over, you would not run from me again.