We watched the Emmys that weekend, and, oh Madelyn, seeing you in that dress again made my heart race just as fast as it had the day before. I hadn't told the boys that I'd seen you in it already. I won't repeat the comments spewing from their mouths that day, but suffice it to say, they were crude. Suffice it to say, that black and red dress was a hit all around. Suffice it to say, I was getting irritated. I tried to block out their crass words and push down that irritation, to focus on you.... but the cameras panned away.

And my irritation only grew when the guys started talking about ordering in pizza. I had the twenty note you'd given me as a gratuity, but I wasn't getting paid for almost two weeks, and that was all I had. The thing is, they all had assistance from the school to cover their costs. But because my dad made a decent living with his band, the university didn't offer me nearly as much, which meant my mum and I had to make up the difference, and she was already stretched too thin. All the money I'd saved the last year had gone to cover the remainder of my tuition and fees, my books, my rent. My last pay check from Sal, just from two days ago, was gone, spent on my cell phone bill. I was dead broke.

"I've got you, Haz," Liam nudged me quietly. "No worries."

"Nah, mate. You guys go on. I'll scrounge something together in the kitchen."

"We're not gonna sit here eating pizza in front of you while you eat water biscuits, Harry," Louis rolled his eyes. "Just have a slice."

I was hungry, but I was a bit ashamed to be in this bind, and I definitely did not want to take charity. But Louis was right; I don't think there was much to be had in our kitchen at the moment. So I finally gave in and agreed to eat with them. The pizzas actually were fairly inexpensive from Michael's, the little family-run place down in town. Louis and I had discovered it over the summer when we'd come to get our stuff squared away for school--their advertisment offered a lunch deal of a slice and a drink for peanuts. Four bucks. Couldn't beat that.

Louis held a piece with sausage and grilled onion out to me. "Best pizza joint we've found by far."

I took the slice, my stomach grumbling, "Agreed. Puts all others to shame. Fuckin tasty."

"Don't fuck the pizza, Harry. Eat it," Louis grinned at me.

Niall mumbled something, and when I turned to look at him, I burst into laughter. He had a slice in one hand and most of another sticking out of his mouth, his face as red as a pepperoni. He started laughing too, then, which expelled the half-eaten piece from his mouth onto the floor, a slobbery mashed up mess. It was disgusting. It was hilarious. It was ridiculous. There was a thick string of drool from the semi-chewed food to his mouth. Niall was doubled over laughing.

"Gah," Zayn exclaimed, scooting away from Niall. "Gross."

"You all right, mate?" Liam patted Niall's back.

"Yeah, 'm all right. Turns out I cannot eat a whole slice in one bite."

"Was this even up for debate? Why? Why would you do this?" I shook my head, grinning.

"Ménage-à-trois," Niall shrugged.

"What?"

"Fucking the pizza...?" Niall looked from me to Louis excitedly. Like, get it?

"She's on," Liam smacked my arm with the back of his hand. I stared at the screen in awe. We'd already seen you on the red carpet pre-show thingy, but now you were on the stage, presenting an award. The camera zoomed in on your face, your bare shoulders just in view. "God, she's perfect." I said nothing, but of course I agreed.

Zayn rolled his eyes, grabbed his backpack and went to the front door. "See ya later." He left so abruptly, so... icily.

(We didn't see him again for three days... Liam said not to worry, but I know we all did anyway. It was disconcerting for him to vanish like that. Something was up with Zayn, I was sure, but none of us knew what. Still don't. But we could see he wasn't all right. We could see he wasn't happy. We just couldn't see how to help him. He didn't seem to want us to help him.)

You made one final appearance on the screen at the end of the night when Turning Pages took home the best comedy award. You and the others crowded onto the stage, and Mitch accepted on behalf of the whole team. The camera again zoomed in on you, and my heart ached for you. I mean that in two ways. One, I longed to hold you, I was aching to be something to you. Two, you looked a bit trapped, like an animal in a cage. Yeah, there was a beaming, manufactured smile, but your eyes--dark and sad as ever--showed me you weren't truly happy. So, my heart ached for you, for the hollowness and hopelessness, the bleakness and bitterness you seemed to feel. And then the camera panned away, and you were gone. I leaned back against the sofa, rubbing my hands over my knees, wondering what had left you so broken. I knew, of course I knew. The whole world knew what happened to Matt. But I wondered if there was more.

Liam nudged me. "Don'tcha think?"

"What? Sorry, I was thinking."

He sighed in exasperation, "I said it's weird seeing her on the telly now that we've hung out with her."

Hung out seemed like a strong word for the one lunch we'd shared. "It's fascinating." I felt like I was seeing a different person than I had for years. In a good way. I was seeing a real person, not just a fantasy.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Have you heard from Fern? My friend Aiden.

Me: no. Why?

A: heard some shit.

Me: what?

A: I don't think I should say, man. Talk to her.

Me: fuck that. You texted me out of nowhere to bring this up. I've tried talking to her. She doesn't fucking answer me. So what the fuck is going on?

A: I don't know exactly. Just. you should ask her.

I got up from the sofa and went upstairs. Nearly every day, I felt myself on the edge of rage, and I didn't really know why. Well, I knew part of it was the fucking games Fern had been playing. The first several months we lived out here in California, she kept in touch, flirted even. Said I love you, even. Then she just stopped replying, just fucking left me hanging. I really believed while we were together that I loved her. That she loved me. I was still clutching to some pathetic hope that she would change her mind and come out here. Or at least start talking to me again. My hands shook as I composed the text to her.

Me: hey. Aiden said I should ask you what's up...not sure what's happening, but I guess there's something going on...? I hope you're all right. I'm here if you need me.

I started to type I love you, but I swiped my thumb over the words and deleted them, then clicked send. The bright screen stared back at me for minutes before turning black. I blinked and the shape of my phone lit up my eyelids in a ghostly blue glow. I threw my phone on the bed and paced around the room, my hands in my hair, until Niall knocked on the doorframe.

"All right?"

"Yeah...no. I don't know." We sat on the edge of my bed and I recounted what happened today.

"Don't get mad at me, Harry," he said, holding his hands up.

I frowned at him. "I won't! What do you mean?" I may have raised my voice just a smidge.

He chuckled lightly, his eyebrows raised. "I'm just curious, mate, why are you holding onto this girl? You were miserable the whole time you were together."

"No," my voice went quiet on me. "Not the whole time. There were good times--great times--in there. I wouldn't have stayed with her for over a year if it was bad from the beginning."

He stayed quiet, watching me, his hand on my shoulder. I leaned my elbows down on my knees and rested my chin in my hands. Fern had this thing about her that just pulled people in. She was all good girl, girl next door, innocent little angel at first glance. And that was charming...she seemed so nice. Just so nice. And then once I was in, once I was part of her crowd--once anyone was in and part of her crowd, she'd let them see the wild child underneath that false exterior. She was a living dichotomy.

I fell hard and fast and apparently, alone.

"I'm sorry, Haz," Niall patted my shoulder gently and stood to leave. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, you didn't. Really. Thanks for letting me vent about it." I glanced up at him as he reached the door. "It helped."

I flopped back onto my bed once he was gone, digging my phone out from under me to stare at the still-dark screen. I swiped it open and checked for messages, even though they would have appeared on the lockscreen. Nothing. I locked it with a quiet click and closed my eyes, holding my phone to my chest.

I had to repeat the story the next day to Liam and Louis. Both agreed with Niall. Move on. Part of me agreed, obviously. But how? How do you just move on from someone you loved? How are you supposed to turn off those feelings?

Seeing you helped. I sat on my usual bench and watched you walk to your class every day that week and the next. Yeah, seeing you definitely helped. But not enough to keep my swelling foul mood at bay. There was just too much building up.

That bad mood was fueled by my continued hunger, by my diet of ramen noodles. Ha. Fueled by Ramen. (Paramore and Fall Out Boy's record label....I'm a dork. I'm sorry.) I should say my bad mood was made worse by the hunger that was haunting me. I was eating ramen for nearly every meal, for weeks, and my whole body ached from it. I ate on campus on occasion, but I had purchased the minimal meal plan to save money--only three meals for the whole week. I usually used it for breakfast on the days when I had the longest classes because there was more I could sneak out in my bag. But we were into October already, and it just wasn't enough to keep me going. Louis commented how thin I had gotten one morning; my waist had shrunk so much that my skinny jeans were actually baggy. My head thudded with a piercing pain. The bottom line is that I didn't feel like myself--physically or mentally or emotionally.

And then Sam and I presented our collaborative poem for our creative writing course, and the whole class slammed it. They were so critical, tearing it apart. This from idiots who wrote rhyming poems about fucking ice cream. It was infuriating. The only thing that saved me completely flipping out was the professor, who gave us an appreciative nod. After class, Sam and I hung back to talk to her.

"Mrs. Villegas, did we go off on the wrong track here?" Sam asked, her hip stuck out indignantly. "Because we thought it was pretty good. I mean, there was room to improve, but--"

"Not at all, I thought you had an intriguing, original take on the assignment. I did agree that the metaphor at the end was a bit murky, but otherwise, you two had a strong piece."

I left the class without a word. Sam stopped me at the bottom of the stairs, her hand resting on my shoulder. "Hey, you all right?"

"Yeah. Just having kind of a shit week," I shrugged her hand away. "Shit couple of weeks," I grumbled.

"You wanna talk about it?"

I shook my head, running my hand up into my hair. "Thanks, but not really."

"All right. But if you did, I mean, I've been told I'm a pretty good listener."

She was staring at me like I was some pitiful creature. "Thanks. I just..." I sat down on a bench outside the building and unloaded everything. I told her about my tumultuous relationship with Fern, and how I hadn't heard from her in months, how she still hadn't texted me back a week and a half after I reached out to her. About how hard it was to be so far from home, missing my mum and sister and all my old friends. About my crappy job and lack of food. About you and how you seemed to like everyone else better than me. "But really, the problem is that I'm worried Fern was right. I'm scared that moving here was a mistake. I didn't think it would be so hard." I took a deep breath. "Everything is so hard."

She patted my back awkwardly. "You'll get through this. We all go through difficult times, but ya know, those times make you stronger." She raised her shoulders in an uncomfortable shrug.

"Yeah, I know. It's just tough when you're in the middle of it all."

"I know it is. But, just. Don't give up. Okay?"

I wasn't sure if she meant not to give up on Los Angeles. Or Fern. Or you. I walked away with a wave, lost in thought. I didn't want to give up on LA. I definitely didn't want to give up on you. But Fern...maybe I really was ready to let her go.

I had to push all of this aside and pretend that I was fine when my mum called on Wednesday afternoon as I was walking home. I couldn't let her know I was wasting away from hunger. That I was overwhelmed by everything going on. So, I put on a false cheery tone for her when I unlocked my phone to answer.

"Hi, darling," just the sound of her voice made me feel a bit better. "How are you?"

"Good, mum. Great," I said. "But I miss you so."

"Oh, sweetheart, I miss you too," she was emotional, a faint sniffling evident in her words. "Harry, my sweet boy, I have some news."

My heart thudded. I didn't think I could handle any more shit in my life. I swallowed down my fear. "What is it?" I knew my voice was shaky.

"Robin has proposed to me, Harry." She paused. "And I've said yes."

I breathed out a sigh of relief as happiness overtook the dark cloud of my mood. "Oh, mum, I am so happy for you. It's about darn time."

"Yes it is," she laughed, her tears again evident in her voice. "Thank you, love."

I was beaming as I pushed open my front door. "How did he ask you?" I jogged up the stairs and tossed my bag on my bed, flopping down beside it.

"Oh, it was very sweet. We went for a nice dinner and walked along the water afterwards. He stopped on the bridge, under the moonlight..." I could picture it perfectly. I could picture her smile lit up by the glow of the moon and of her love. It was nearly midnight there now. "He told me how much he loved me, and what a fool he'd been to wait so long, and then he got down on his knee."

"Mum, that sounds lovely. I am so happy for you both." I twisted my shirt hem between my fingers. "So when's the wedding?"

"Well, we were talking that through as we walked home, and," she hesitated a bit, "I really would like to get married this year." Shit. "And our first date was on New Year's Eve. So we were thinking we'd do it then."

I tried to steady my breath. "That's great, mum. So romantic."

"I know it will be tough for you to get back home, especially with such short notice, but honey, I think between us, we can scrape the money together. Don't you?"

Fuck. Fucking shit. "Yeah, definitely. I'll start saving now." I couldn't scrape together enough for lunch let alone a plane ticket.

Maddie, I don't mean to drag up old shit. I'm not trying to make you feel bad. I'm hoping you'll understand how things went so wrong for us later that day.

I rung off the call with mum and sat there on my bed, sick with anxiety. I had no clue how I was going to come up with my part of the ticket. I couldn't miss her wedding. That was unthinkable. I opened the web on my phone and searched for airfare. Fuck, it was expensive. I tapped Sal's number from my call list.

"Harry, my boy. What can I do for you?"

"Hi, Sal. I was wondering if I could get a couple of extra shifts for the next two months."

He was silent for a beat. "Why? You were just complaining that you needed more time to work on your courses."

"Mum's getting married--"

"Oh my! This is wonderful news!" I grinned at his reaction.

"Yeah, it is. She's so happy, and I'm so happy for her. But I need to buy a ticket back to England."

"Ahhhh. Well, son, I think we will find another way around it--" my call waiting beeped, and I looked at my screen. Fern.

"Uncle Sal, I've got another call coming through from England."

"All right, Harry. We'll talk later."

I clicked to accept Fern's call. It was now almost 2 am there. "Fern?"

"Harry," she slurred.

"Are you all right?"

"Noooooo. I miss you and you're an idiot and I hate you but I miss you."

I took a deep breath. "Fern, you're wasted. Maybe we should talk tomorrow when--"

"Don't tell me what I am!" She shouted shrilly, and I had to pull my phone away from my ear.

"Okay," I said quietly, pacing my room. Downstairs, I could hear the guys moving around. "You tell me then. What are you? How are you?"

"I'm drunk," she giggled. I heard a thud through the phone. "I'm fell. I am fall. I fell." She laughed again, louder now. "Ow."

I sighed, exasperated. "Fern, are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I'm better than fine. I've never been happier," she snapped each word, as if spitting poison. "Josh and I are so happy."

"Josh?" Surely not my mate, Josh.

She laughed. Cackled like a witch, more like. Then her tone went high and whiny, as if to mock me. "Josh?" She spluttered, "Yes, Josh. You idiot. We've been fucking for over a year."

I felt like she had punctured my lungs with her words, all the air draining from my body in a slow wheezing leak. "What," I finally breathed out.

"Mm-hmmmm." She insisted, sounding smug and sad all at once. I imagined her sitting on a kerb outside of a bar in London, her knees slightly scraped from falling. Her makeup smeared from drunkenly wiping her hand across her face. Her hair tousled and tangled. It was a state I'd seen her in many times.

"A year ago you were with me," I said shakily. "You couldn't have been with Josh then." Surely she was exaggerating the timeframe. Surely she was mistaken.

She laughed again, an icy laugh that chilled the last warm thoughts I had for her. "God, you're such a fucking idiot. Josh and I hooked up while we were together. In our bed. Made a fool of you in your own home. And you thought I loved you. Ha! And you thought he was your friend."

"Why are you doing this, Fern? Why are you saying this?" I knew I sounded pathetic. I felt pathetic.

"Because it's the truth."

"But why, after all these months of silence, why call me now? Why tell me now?" I had to speak slowly and deliberately so as not to whine. Or weep.

"Fucking Aiden caught us. Fucking," her voice drifted away in laughter, as if she pulled the phone away from her face.

I hung up. I'd heard enough. I rested my face against my fists, clenching my jaw, furious. I felt like the walls of our small room were closing in on me. I needed some air.

Liam was out back smoking. I turned away when I saw him, but Liam called me back, holding up his phone and babbling about you. I barely glanced at it.

"Haz, you all right?"

"Yeah, fine. I just can't stand your smoke."

I went out the front door and sat down on the plastic chair on the porch. Louis and Zayn didn't even register my presence and just kept playing footie. I tipped the chair up on two legs, against the wall, and tried to slow my breathing. My stomach was tight, acid churning and burning.

But I wasn't sure exactly how I felt. Angry, sure. Hurt, yeah. Betrayed, obviously. But by her? Or him? Josh was a pretty close mate. It was hard to believe he would do it, but Fern could be so...enticing. Shit. If they'd really been together a year, that was the last three months of our relationship. She was fucking him while we tried to work through the issue of my move to LA. She was fucking him while she still claimed to love me. She was fucking him while she was still fucking me. I felt sick, the twisting anxiety in my gut boiling up into all-out nausea.

And then I heard your voice, "Hi, Zayn. Louis." I let the chair fall back down onto all four feet. I ran my hand over my mouth, just so fucking miserable. Why? Why did God choose this moment to have you show up?

Louis shouted some rude comment about his balls in your face, and I stood to go back inside. Suddenly the air outside was oppressive, and I wanted only the dim dusty air of my room.

Liam stopped me in the living room. "Harry, mate, what's wrong."

I shook my head, "nothing," I muttered, turning away. I just wanted to be alone. I needed to be alone. "I'm all right.

"Come on, Haz, I can see you're not," he rested his hand on my shoulder, and though it shouldn't have, it just made me feel more pathetic than ever. Like he just pitied me. Like I was pitiful.

"I don't need your fucking comfort, Liam! Go comfort your fucking girlfriend," I waved at the screen of his phone, still lit up with your photo. "Lou hit her with a fucking football."

"What's your problem, Haz?" he snapped.

Now Liam was pissed, and I knew he didn't deserve it, but I just couldn't stop. "Nothing. I'm just sick of hearing you go on about this girl. Maddie this. Maddie that. You act like you know her or something. You don't know shit about her."

He folded his arms across his chest. "Right, and you do?"

God, he had no idea how much that hurt, how much it stung that I didn't know you. "No. Nobody does. She's fake. She's an actress. Every moment of her life is pretend." I knew it wasn't you I was angry with, that I was projecting my feelings about Fern onto you, but I just couldn't stop.

"She's nice. She's really nice to us. Why would she pretend to be nice to us? What can she possibly gain from that?"

"I don't know. She can't be rude to a fan. I mean, mate, you're a blubbering idiot whenever she's around. She probably can't stand it. Remember her face when those girls asked to take a picture with her?" I rolled my eyes at him.

"Harry, I know you don't really feel that way," he softened his tone. "What is going on?"

I broke down, covering my face before the tears could fall. "Fucking Fern," was all I could get out. I tried desperately to hold back the sob, but I just couldn't stop.

"What did the bitch do now?"

I laughed through my tears as I sat down on the steps. I told him everything she'd said. "I'm sorry for lashing out at you, Liam. I'm an idiot."

"No, you're not, don't let Fern's bullshit get to you. I'm sorry. I reacted too strongly as well. I shouldn't have snapped back."

We sat there chatting about Fern and Josh, coming up with different theories, for at least an hour. Eventually, Louis came in and interrupted us.

"Lads," he nodded. Then his eyes widened as he saw my face. "Haz, are you upset over Maddie?"

Now I widened mine. "What? What do you mean?"

"She heard something at the door that really upset her. Ran away crying."

Fuck. I felt like such an asshole. I looked at Liam, shaking my head in misery.

"It's okay, Harry."

"No, it's not. Fucking nothing is okay right now." I couldn't believe I had hurt you.

"Jesus, Harry, what's going on?" Louis looked more concerned than I'd ever seen him.

"Fern cheated on him."

"I thought you guys broke up when we left London?"

"We did."

"Before that," Liam said plainly.

"Fuuuuck. Better make your way to the clinic, mate." Louis smacked my shoulder. "Make sure that nasty wench didn't give you chlamydia or some shit."

I rolled my eyes at him. But in a way, Louis' harsh banter made me feel a bit better.

"Let's go eat, mate," Liam held his hand out to me. "On me."

I was in the worst possible mood. It was the last thing I wanted, to take charity off him again. But for gods sake I really needed to get out of here, to eat real food. "Fine," I sighed, unable to fight anything anymore. But it was good. The lads cheered me up, distracted me. And that was exactly what I needed.

When we got home, I headed up to my room to call my mum. It would be early morning back in Holmes Chapel. I flopped onto my bed on my back, and stared at my posters. You in that tiny bikini. You in that almost see through tank top. You and the rest of the cast of Turning Pages. The whole wall was filled with images of you. There were a handful of other nerdy book posters, like Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter, and a couple bands too, like Paramore and Coldplay. But mostly it was you. I know this isn't news to you, as Gemma totally sold me out. Rat. (And I guess I sold myself out as well...)

I swiped the screen of my phone and dialled home. My mum picked up after just a couple of rings, and we chatted about how things were going. I broke down, crying pitifully to my mummy. Maybe I am a mummy's boy. I told her all about Fern, and how it made me feel.

She listened patiently, then reassured me that I shouldn't take Fern's actions as some sort of indication of my worth.

She's great with advice, so I talked to her about you, too.

"I really like her mum, but she doesn't really seem to give me the time of day. And it's my own fault. Usually, I freeze up when I'm around her and can barely talk. And then today I said some horrible things about her, and I feel awful. I didn't mean any of it, I just lashed out." I recounted the entire afternoon for her.

"Oh, Harry, you do have some of your father's temper," she said, and I murmured my assent. It was my least favourite quality in him, and I hated that I seemed to have developed it myself. "Honey, listen, I think one problem is that you're still seeing her as a star and not as a girl. She's a person just like you and me. In fact, love, she's had a much tougher go of it than any of us. Just try to imagine for a minute losing Gem like that, having the world judge you through it all. It makes sense that she might be closed off. You want to break through that, you're going to have to treat her like a regular person. Talk to her like a regular person."

"Yeah, you're right. But after all this, I doubt she'll even talk to me at all."

"Well, darling, you need to apologize."

I rubbed my hand over the light stubble on my upper lip as I considered that. How? When? Would you even let me get that far? "Yeah, I know you're right. You're right."

"I usually am." I could hear her smile from thousands of miles away.

"Yes, mum, you are. Thank you. I love you."

"I love you too, my precious, darling boy. Don't worry, it will all work out as it should."

It did. Thank god it did. Thank mum it did. Thank you. It did.