The afternoon of Halloween, I sat there in the practice room writing Strong and my phone just kept going off. The screen pretty much never dimmed anymore. It was a constant scroll of notifications from Twitter and even Instagram now. I'd never posted anything about you. Well, I had posted a picture of our pizzas the night of our first date with the heart-eye emoji as its caption. To be exact, it was a picture of your hand grabbing a piece of pizza. But apart from that, I'd never included you in any of my posts, I'd never replied to anyone when they asked me questions. I just didn't want people thinking I was using you. And I was trying to respect your privacy.

"Bro, you're famous, now," Zayn said, picking up my phone and thumbing through the endless stream of notifications. He didn't care about my privacy, it seemed. "That's going to be so good for the band."

The others started babbling excitedly. I tossed my pen down and stepped out of the room, just needing a moment to breathe. I found it all overwhelming, the attention I was getting, and the thought of my band gaining success because of that attention made me utterly uncomfortable.

"Hey, Harry, you all right?" Niall asked, resting his hand on my back.

I straightened up and turned to face him. "Yeah," I sighed, gesturing back toward the room, "I just...I don't want her to think that's why I'm with her, ya know?"

"I'm sure she knows that, mate. You're the most genuine person I know, so I doubt she could ever think that."

I shrugged. "I hope so. God, I hate the word famous." He stayed quiet, leaning against the wall, just watching me chew on the inside of my lip, running my hands through my hair. "I mean, don't get me wrong. I want to make it big, I want us to make it big, to be able to do this for a living, forever, but..." I shook my head, frustrated and trying to find the right words.

"Maybe not all that comes with it?"

"Sort of yeah. But also, it just gives you, like, no substance. You're not clever, you're not talented, you're not funny. You're famous. I just hate how people think they can label your life." I frowned, shaking my head again. "You should see the shit people are saying about me, just from one night out with her in the public eye."

"Is it really that bad?" Niall widened his eyes, clearly concerned.

"Not all of it, probably not even most, but the ones that are bad are really bad."

"Like what?"

"Like, 'fucking leech, get a proper job you dick,' or 'he's just after her fucking money,' or 'I hope you die, Monas is real, Monas forever."

"Monas?"

"It's Maddie and Jonas's 'ship' name," I punctuated the word with air quotes.

"Jesus."

"Yeah. So, like, everyone getting all thrilled that my 'fame,'" again I made air quotes, "is going to raise the stature of our band, well it just pisses me off. I don't want what these assholes say online to turn out to be true because we use this... her to our advantage."

"I get it." Niall patted my shoulder. "I really do. We won't, okay, we won't do anything to promote the band through her."

"Tell them that," I pointed back toward the room.

Without hesitation, he replied, "I will. And so should you."

We went back in, and Niall started the conversation, and then I did my best to explain why it made me so uncomfortable. I don't want you to get the wrong idea about them, Maddie, but the others were disappointed. Really disappointed. But in the end, they relented.

"She's your girl," Louis said, as a way to put a close to the conversation. "We won't do anything to fuck it up." He rubbed his hands together. "Now, with that settled, let's talk about the Gypsy Tavern. The next showcase is next Friday, and we are signed up, on the schedule to go last."

Liam's mouth dropped open. "We're headlining?"

"You could look at it that way," Louis nodded. "The manager was really happy with our first show there. Gave us an open invitation to all of the student showcases."

"That's amazing," Niall grinned. "Shit, we better get to work."

We started rehearsing the songs I had written about you. It made me smile as we sang them. It was a room filled with my adoration for you, love bouncing off the walls in perfect acoustic reverberation. I wanted to stop and just listen, just bask in it, but we really needed to get the songs down. The songs needed to be perfect, so that when you heard them, you would hear the love that was put into them.

As we were finishing up Happily, you strolled into the room. I panicked and stopped singing and playing immediately, and went over to hug you. You mocked what you'd heard of the song, saying in an absolutely bored voice, "oh oh oh oh oh." But your face beamed with anything but boredom. Your cheeks were flushed as if you were coming in out of the cold, and I ran the back of my hand across your cheek before I kissed you, eliciting catcalls and gagging noises from my band of idiots. "Are you guys ready?" you asked.

We collected our instruments, and I subtly handed off the Strong lyrics to Louis. Then we followed you to your car, and you drove us home, the whole way talking about some girl you'd met and how you followed her on Twitter. My heart sort of clenched in jealousy. Some random girl you'd barely met. But here I was sleeping in your bed almost every night and you'd never so much as asked if I had a Twitter. I wanted to ask you to follow me, but that seemed so lame, and given the way my notifications were going crazy already, that would probably just make it worse.

Then Liam chimed in as you parked the car, "hey Maddie, would you follow me?" Shit. It was perfect. If you followed him, you were bound to find me.

"Course, yeah." You took your phone out of your bag and tapped on the screen. There was a faint squee from the back, that could only have been Liam receiving the notification. "Are the rest of you on Twitter?" you asked, looking back into the backseat.

"Yeah," they all said as a chorus.

You tapped the screen a few more times. "There. Gotcha." They all climbed out of the car but I stayed there for a moment, trying to mask my hurt. "Hey," you poked your head back in, "you coming?"

"Yeah, yes." I got out and followed you in. I greeted Louise, and she introduced me to Becca. "Lovely to meet you," I muttered. When I tuned into the conversation you were having with my band, I heard them harassing you with questions about your house. "Enough with the fucking interview," I barked. "Just go get dressed already."

When we got to your room, you rested one hand on my arm briefly. "You okay?"

"Yeah, it's stupid. I'm fine. Forget it." I don't hide my emotions well at all. My heart is on my sleeve, and, like a cartoon, my heat comes out as steam.

"What?" You pressed.

"You...you followed all of them, and some stranger, but not me," I looked away, feeling so stupid and childish to be upset.

"I follow you," you said, amused.

"You do?" We both swiped open our phones, and just as you were holding yours up, I reached your Twitter, and there it was. Follows you. When? How? How did I not notice? I glanced at your phone, on my account, the blue check filled in. "When did you?"

"Last week, while we were at the Hot 25 idiots party. One of the press accounts tagged both of us. I didn't know you had one or I would have followed you sooner."

"Oh." The notification must have gotten buried in the swarm that followed the fight, and I just never saw it. Shit, that must be why the constant activity never relented.

"I don't really use it. My agent tweets promo from it a few times a week." You rolled your eyes.

I smiled at you, my beautiful girl. My beautiful Maddie. You've always been in this world, people knowing who you are and wanting attention from you. Wanting a photo or a follow. It probably seemed so insignificant to you, but I can guarantee that it made five boys very happy that night. It made me very happy. "Thanks, baby," I kissed you, still smiling.

"Yeah, yeah," you rolled your eyes again, making me want to drag you onto the bed and kiss you til I came, but Louise was standing right there, so I refrained. "Go get dressed," you pointed to the bathroom, mocking my earlier irritation. Have I mentioned that I love it when you mock me?

I took the garment bag into your bathroom and unzipped it. And laughed. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. A shiny satin robe, satin shorts, and down at the bottom, a pair of boxing gloves tied to each other by the laces. I laughed again and started to strip out of my regular clothes. You were such a cheeky little smartass. I was all over the news for punching your costar and now you'd dressed me as a boxer for Halloween, making a joke of the whole incident. I hoped the world would get the punchline. Pun intended.

There was a faint knock at the door, and I called for you to come in. But it wasn't you. It was Louise. I hastily pulled the shorts up my legs as she closed the door and walked toward me. "I'm going to add some fake cuts to your face, and darken this black eye of yours. Okay?"

"Um, yeah. Sure," I sort of stuttered. I was standing there in nothing but these shorts. I covered my abdomen nervously. "Um, where do you want me?"

"Sit there," she pointed at your little cushioned seat. I obeyed, leaning back against the cool counter, my arms still covering my bare chest protectively. She pulled my hair back into a stubby little ponytail, binding it with an elastic. Then she set to work on my face, dabbing and brushing and smoothing. After she'd been working for a little while, Louise stepped away and tipped her head to the side. Then she nodded. "Looks pretty good, stand up and have a look."

I stood and turned to the mirror. She had made my face look swollen, bruised, and battered, just like a real boxer at the end of a fight. "Whoa," I reached my hand up but didn't touch. "That's incredible. Thanks, Louise."

She lifted the robe behind me, and I slid my arms in. "You're welcome." She tugged at the shoulders to get it to fit right, and then she met my eyes in the mirror. "And thank you, Harry. Thank you for taking care of her."

I nodded and turned to face her. "Of course."

"He was always bad news, that kid." Lou bit her lip, shaking her head. "I'm so glad she has you to protect her."

"I will always protect her. I'll always keep her safe."

"Good. She needs that." Her eyes darted to the door and back to mine, then lowered her voice a bit, "She's had a lot of people hurt her who were close to her, people who should have protected her."

"I would never do that. I love her."

She smiled and patted my arm. "I know. Come on. Let's get your hands wrapped, and go see her costume." Smiling to herself, Louise folded white gauze-like tape around my hands then added a bit of blood and fake cuts to my knuckles. She draped the gloves around my neck. "Perfect."

I came out of the loo with Lou to see you standing there as Pinocchio--little shorts that showed off your luscious legs, very tight yellow top that clung to your voluptuous breasts, dorky little hat that made you look adorably innocent.

Louise started futzing with my hair, the loose bits that didn't fit in the elastic. Then she reached for my stomach, and you interceded, grabbing the bottle of oil and slathering it on my abs. I took your plaited pigtails in my hands and tugged on them gently (oh, the dirty things I imagined). "These are cute," I said huskily, and you glanced up at me coyly. I wished I was wearing tighter underpants to contain the erection growing in response to your hands dancing dangerously close to the band of my satin shorts, the innocent expression on your face, and the filthy thoughts parading through my mind. I released one braid and gestured at my now oiled-up body, "You're such a smartass. I love--" shit, "it." I prayed you didn't notice.

Liam saved me by shrieking like a girl. And for the first time I took in the fact that Liam was standing in your bedroom, next to Zayn. I know it's irrational. I know it makes me look like a Neanderthal. I know I've said all this before. But, damn it made me jealous. I did not like them being there at all. I swallowed hard and joined in the laughter, trying to push down those dark thoughts. Liam wouldn't. I know he wouldn't. Zayn, though...I wasn't as sure, especially as his eyes kept scanning your body hungrily.

"You look hot," you whispered into my ear, your hands trailing down my abdomen again. "All the guys down in West Hollywood are going to be hitting on you."

I put my arm around you and whispered back, "I'll just tell them you're my boyfriend."

"Pedophile."

"Ha!" I laughed that horrible high laugh I hate so much. "Liar," I retorted, "Cheeky, cheeky liar." Your wit is so quick, sometimes it's hard to keep up, and anytime I've made you laugh, I feel a profound sense of accomplishment.

Becca and Louise joined us in their cute animal costumes, and then the bell rang. We made our way out to the entry, and Liam and I exchanged excited glances as you reached for the door. We didn't know exactly who was coming, but we were dying to meet any of the cast. When Jenna came in, all beautiful blue fairy, and shook his hand and hugged me, I think we both nearly died.

"You're like, the ideal mum," I said to her.

"Aww thanks," she smiled sweetly. "I hear you're an ideal boyfriend."

You hit her! "Shut up!" Your whole face went as pink as the circles of blush Lou had painted on.

I pulled you back to me and kissed the side of your head, "you're my ideal everything," I murmured into your hair.

"God, he really is the ideal boyfriend."

"Shut up, goddammit," you whined, throwing your Pinocchio nose at her.

I loved it. I loved knowing that you spoke highly of me to the people in your life. And I loved you. Completely. We'd been dating for three weeks, and though it felt too soon, I considered finally just telling you. But there were too many people around, all watching us, and Liam's repeated warning that it was too soon echoed in my mind. So for the moment, I refrained.

Down on Santa Monica Boulevard, after eating various fried foods and fighting our way through the half-drunk crowd, Mitch led us to a rooftop party thrown by some industry guy. The weather was mild, a bit breezy, and even though the sky was clear of clouds, few stars were visible. The moon, however, was so close that night, it looked like we could just reach out and grab it. The roof overlooked the stage that was set up in the middle of the street. We danced so badly, but it was so much fun, and you were so carefree, and I loved you so much. "I love you," I said.

"I mean, I guess." You rolled your eyes, and it felt like my organs were being yanked from my body. Gutted. Intestines, stomach, lungs. Heart. Just completely gutted. "They don't even know me." Spleen.

What? What did you think I said? Fuck. I couldn't correct you, couldn't say it again and risk this feeling again. Fuck, it hurt so much. You never really think about how much you need those organs until they're ripped from your body, shredded and left for dead. "I'm gonna get another drink," I gestured with my hand as I spoke the words, the volume of the music covering my emotion. You nodded and turned back toward the street. I searched for the guys. Any of them. I needed someone who knew me, to vent what had just occurred. I found Louis and Liam leaning against the far corner, smoking.

"Hey," I turned away, about to lose it.

"What the fuck, Haz?" Liam tossed his cig and grabbed my arm. "What's going on?"

"I told her that I loved her."

"Nooooo. Why?"

"Because I do," I gritted my teeth, fighting back tears. "But I'm not sure if she heard. She, I dunno, maybe she misheard."

"What did she say?" Louis asked, blowing his smoke away from my face.

"She said something like they don't know me."

"She obviously didn't hear you," Louis comforted me.

"Take is as a reprieve, Haz. It's too fucking soon," Liam shook his head. "Be glad she didn't hear you."

While they went off to find booze, I stood there staring out at nothing.

A somewhat familiar voice said, "You really love her." It was almost a question, but not quite.

"Whuh?" I turned to find Mitch and Jenna, arm-in-arm, grinning at me. Jenna repeated Mitch's words, her face lit by the bright moon so low in the sky. I nodded. "Yes, I do. I really do."

"That's good, kid. Take care of her," Mitch shook my hand. Well, at least someone was happy for me. For us.

"I will," I promised.

Jenna kissed my cheek, and they left me. As I made my way back to you, I grabbed a bottle of water and chugged some, thinking about how much your Turning Pages family cared for you. Where your real family was lacking, it seemed that your tv family compensated. You smiled brightly as I returned to your side and offered you the water. "Thanks, Rocky."

"I've got the thigh of the tiger."

"What?" You laughed. I pulled the leg of my shorts up and tapped the tiger tattoo with my index finger. You laughed even harder. "Perfect."

We left not long after, and though we were both so tired, we couldn't skip showering, as we were both caked in make up. You went first, coming out in lacy panties and a matching, nearly see-through turquoise tank top that strained around your tits. Fuck. Me. Oh good god. You are like a damn aphrodisiac. I will never need penis pills, what's it called? Viagra. I will never need viagra because you are so sexy, I get hard just thinking about your thighs. God and your ass; it peeked out the bottom of your panties tantalisingly. So round. I just wanted to grab handfuls of your flesh while sliding into you. I came ridiculously fast in the shower that night.

As we lay in your bed together, you traced the circles of my butterfly's wings, and the beast started to stir again. Then you kissed my shoulder and spoke in a sultry tone, "You looked so hot tonight. I told you all the boys would want you."

"Even Pinocchio?" I asked, wiggling my body against yours.

"Especially Pinocchio."

You wanted me. It was the best news I'd had in a long time. But wanting me, physically desiring me wasn't what I needed from you. It wasn't what I wanted to hear that night, and I went to sleep disappointed.

The next morning, I had to get up and go to work down at Sal's. I was busy through the lunch hour, but I dropped you off a sandwich and had a quick bite with you before returning to the bustle. It was just past 4, in the quiet period between lunch and dinner, and I was leaning casually against the back counter, texting Louis about the new song.

Me: I'd like it to start with a sound almost like a racing pulse.

L: yeah, that'd be cool. I'll work on it. The melody I've got in my head, we may need to add some words in to the verse.

Me: okay, no problem. I'll revise.

L: I'll send you a recording of the melody with substitute words

Me: perfect. My phone's almost dead. Ttyl

How was my phone nearly dead again? It was dying all the time now. I checked my battery usage in the settings. What do you know! Twitter and Instagram were eating my battery alive. Even as I was discovering this, a constant scroll of notifications flashed along the top of my screen. I had resisted turning off the notifications altogether because I liked getting your notifications. But, the fact was, this shit was out of hand. So with regret, I slid my thumb across the switch and shut them both off. Still, I was down to just five percent.

The bell above the door tinkled, and I glanced up casually. Two uniformed police officers had come into the shop. I stiffened, standing up from my repose against the counter. "May I...can I, can I help you officers?"

"We're looking for an employee," the cop glanced at the notebook in his hand. "Harry Styles." My already racing heart doubled its pace.

"That's me. I'm Harry Styles." My mouth and throat were so dry. Oh how I wished for a bottle of water. A soda. Fuck, a juice box. Anything.

"We need to ask you some questions about an incident last Friday at an event over in West Hollywood."

"That's no problem," I swallowed, my throat now painfully dry. "I'll just contact my attorney."

"That's not necessary," one cop waved his hand. "These are just routine quest--"

"I'm quite certain you heard the boy request the presence of his lawyer," Sal came from the back. The cops scowled at him, shaking their heads. "We have an excellent security system in the shop here, officers Brindley and Perez." He squinted as he read their names from the tiny metal plaques on their chests. "The cameras record video and audio."

"Right," the one called Brindley said. He set a business card next to the register. "Here's my card with my contact information. Come on down to the station with your attorney as soon as you can."

As soon as the cops were gone, I breathed out a huge sigh and slumped down, and Sal smacked me across the back of my head. "What sort of trouble have you gotten yourself into?"

He went to smack me again, and I raised my hands in defence, backing away. "Ahh. Uncle Sal, it's not like that."

"What is it like then, hm?"

"I can't talk about it," he raised his hand as if to hit the back of my head again, and I continued in a rush, "the attorney said not to. But, like, haven't you seen the news?"

"I don't have time for the news! Tell me now what brings police officers into my store. Not to buy sandwiches. What?"

"Someone tried to hit Madelyn. I stopped him."

Sal finally lowered his hand. "Stopped him, how?"

"I hit him."

"Hm. Okay." He visibly relaxed.

"I should call her, let her know they came by."

"Go on, go to her."

"But my shift--"

"Shift, shmift. This is more important." He waved his hands, shooing me away. "Go."

I took off my white deli shirt and hung it in the back then headed out. Halfway up the block, I realised I had left my phone sitting on the back counter. I jogged back down the hill to get it, and as I entered the store, I could hear Sal talking in the storage room. "Much going on. I will take care of it....No, no. It's fine.....Let him think you did. Much love to you all."

I grabbed my phone and hurried out before he could catch me eavesdropping. Who was that? I wondered. But his words were soon forgotten as I got to the semidetached to grab my phone charger, and I was struck with a sudden urge to call my mum. I filled a glass of water, sat at the kitchen counter, and rang her on the house phone while my mobile charged.

"Hello my precious boy, how are you? Did you have a good All Hallows' Eve?"

"Hi mum. Yeah it was fun. I met Jenna Lucas, she plays Maddie's mum on the show."

"Of course. Oh how fun."

"I'll send you some pictures later. But um," I took a long drink to wet my still dry throat, "about the incident last week...the police came to Sal's today."

"Goodness. What did you tell them?"

"That I needed my lawyer." I sighed. Drank some more water. Breathed out heavily again. "I'm scared, mum."

"Don't be sweetheart. I'm sure they will understand. I'm sure this will all blow over. What does Maddie say?"

"I haven't told her yet. I can't face her yet. I'm just...I screwed up so bad hitting him like that. I should have just stepped in front of him, let him hit me. Or hit him once and then left. I've made a total mess, and--"

"No, my darling, no. You can't live your life like this, looking back at what should have been or what might have been, what you should or shouldn't have done. It's too late. It's done. You can't change what's happened, you just have to be smart about how you handle what comes next."

"You're right. I know, you're right."

"And sweetheart I'm sure Maddie holds no ill will against you. She knows you were protecting her, she knows you care for her. Don't worry."

"I hope you're right."

"I usually am," she grinned. I loved when I could picture her smiling face just through her voice.

"Yes," I laughed a little. She never let that slide, "yes you are. Thanks mummy."

"You're welcome, baby. Let me know how it goes."

"I will. I love you."

"I love you too, Harry."

I rang off the call and collected my iPhone and its charger and walked up to your house. "What's wrong?" you asked immediately. Like I said earlier, I'm no good at hiding my emotions. Heart on sleeve, heat as steam, worry as a set of wavy lines across my forehead. When I told you the police had come by, right away, you reached for the phone. "I'm so sorry, Harry, I'll call Jack, and we can go deal with it right now."

I couldn't believe you were apologising to me for this. It was my bad call. A bad call I wasn't quite ready to face. "It's Saturday night. I'm sure he has other plans."

"I'm paying him enough. He'll come." I don't know why I didn't realise you were paying his retainer. I guess I just thought he was one of those public solicitors like on tv. When I rejected the notion that you were going to cover this cost, you insisted. "This is my fault. So just leave it, Harry."

I stopped protesting. Not because I agreed that it was your fault; I didn't. I don't. But because it was one more gesture from you that showed me you cared. You cared for me so deeply that you instantly reached to call him now, that you had called him that night to keep me safe. I pulled you into an embrace and thanked you, kissing you as I spoke. There was so much more I wanted to say, but my voice was shaky enough already, and I barely got out those words.

You drove me down to the station and waited while Jack and I went in with the detective. It was Brindley and Perez's boss, I discovered. Detective Sergeant Wilcoxson. He asked me to give my full name, birthdate, occupation. I had to show my passport and visa. He asked about the university, what I was studying. Why here and not back home. Then finally, he turned to that night.

"Why don't you tell me in your own words what happened that night, Harry?"

I looked at Jack, who gave a subtle nod. "I was at the party with my girlfriend Madelyn Turner--"

"How long have you known Miss Turner?"

"Since mid August." He scribbled notes on a tiny pad.

"So, about three and a half months."

"Yes, sir."

"And how long dating?"

"Just shy of a month now."

"So not very long." Yeah yeah, it's too fucking soon. I just shrugged. "Okay, carry on."

"A photographer asked her to pose for a picture with Jonas Burton. And she did. But she seemed uncomfortable, trying to get out of his grasp. I couldn't hear what was said between them, but he raised his hand, about to hit her--"

"Had she done anything to incite that?"

Jack cut in. "Surely you're not implying that Miss Turner was asking for it, are you Sergeant Wilcoxson?"

"No. No no. I'm just trying to ascertain what happened." He seemed flustered by Jack's suggestion that he was blaming the victim. "Go on, Harry."

"Before he could hit her, I stepped in between them and hit him."

"Were you mad?"

"I--" Jack rested his hand on my arm, so I shut up.

"Did you hit him because you were angry, seeing her in his arms?"

"My client hit Mr. Burton because he was hurting Miss Turner, and about to hurt her further." Jack interjected. "Let me share with you some evidence I collected the morning after the altercation, sergeant." He pulled out his phone. "You can see the photos are date stamped; I cannot change that. Here you see the damage done to Mr. Styles. A severe black eye that affected his vision for quite a few days. A split lip, which you can see in person has not healed--"

"We know they were in a fight, Mr. Dunham."

Jack flipped ahead in the photo album. "Did you know that Mr. Burton handled Miss Turner so roughly that it left bruises?" He held the phone forward. "Her side, a set of finger sized bruises. Her arm," he swiped the picture, "more bruises. And Miss Turner will tell you herself that Jonas was presenting threatening behaviour and that she was indeed in fear for her safety."

The detective sat back. "Thank god."

"I'm sorry?" Jack seemed dismayed by his reaction.

"This Burton kid is such a spoiled little douche. Thank god you've got evidence to back your version of events."

"There's a photographer too," I added. "He was taking pictures the whole time."

"Yes, we've subpoenaed the photographs. He was unwilling to release them without a court order." The cop stood. "Mr. Styles, you're free to go. But just a word of advice...stay away from Jonas Burton. He's got it out for you."

~~~~~

Woohoo! Three updates in one week! I must be on a roll or something. Maybe a baguette. Could be a croissant. Could be I'm a ducking idiot. 😂

As always, I appreciate you taking the time to read my work. Please vote and comment. Comments are my fav. Leave lots of comments. 😁