(No Control - 75. Right Now)

It is the early hours of the morning when I arrive in Brussels, and as soon as I wake up everything comes flooding back. I'm on autopilot as I am escorted through security, passport control and then into a car to take me to the hotel. I know the others won't be up yet, although they arrived last night, so I take my bags to my room and then get in the shower. I stand under the hot water until I can't take the heat anymore, and then wrap a towel around my waist and lay on the bed. Only now can I really think about everything that has happened. I allow my thoughts to wander freely, and now that I have had a good sleep, I feel like I am able to think clearly.

My mind replays the events of New York, from my meeting with Nadine and her harsh words about the celebrity world that has become my way of life, to the feelings of desperation and claustrophobia I felt as a result of everything that has happened so far this year, to my one night stand with Sara.

Nadine's words keep coming back to me: I am no longer Just Harry from Holmes Chapel, and I will never be again. I was stupid to think the fame wouldn't change me, or go to my head. I didn't intend to let it, but it happened without me realising, and now that my eyes have been opened I don't like the person I fear I have become.

I think back over my relationship with Jess, starting from the moment I first caught sight of her across the room (the moment that would later inspire some great lyrics for Perfect); to the week she spent with me in LA, where I suspect I fell in love with her but didn't realise; to the moment I did realise I was in love with her by the River Dane, where I snapped that beautiful picture of her.

But even these memories are now shrouded with doubt. If I was really, truly in love with her, would I have been tempted by someone else? Isn't love supposed to be blinding and engulfing, to the point where you can't imagine yourself with anyone else? That's how I thought I felt about Jess, but then I ended up with Sara in my bed. I was attracted to Sara; she turned me on. Those are not the actions of someone in love.

I made the decision to have sex with Sara, and that makes me a cheat. Jess didn't even enter my head, from the moment Sara came up to my hotel room until I woke up the next morning. How can I possibly claim to be in love with Jess when I practically forgot I even had a girlfriend? Who does that?

I can't rationalise or understand my own actions or my own feelings. I am so confused, and it is not fair to Jess to try and explain any of this to her. My own uncertainty will surely hurt her more, and no matter how I feel about her, I can't bear to hurt her any more deeply than I already have.

Jess is beautiful, funny, caring and sweet. She is loyal to me, and has been since the minute we met. She has understood me from the word go; she was never interested in me for my fame, and for someone who is such a big fan, I think that is a massive deal. I believe she loves me for me, the person I am inside. Except I no longer know who that is anymore.

I felt we had a connection straight away. An attraction, unlike any other I'd felt before. I pursued her, starting the night we met, and then while I was at my mum's, and while I was away on tour. I pulled her into my world, unable to let her go because she was the first person in a long time to treat me like Just Harry from Holmes Chapel; even though she had never seen that side of me, even though she had only ever 'known' the famous Harry. She saw past that, and I allowed her to get close to me, and to cross over into the celebrity world. I dragged her here, into this strange environment, and let the paps take pictures of her, and the magazines print stories about her; about us. I turned a blind eye to the way it made her feel because selfishly I wanted her in my life. But now I see I should never have done that. Celebrities dating fans never works. Why didn't I see that? Why didn't I listen?

Her life is simple and carefree. She doesn't have to worry about how she looks every time she steps out of the house. She doesn't have to tolerate people speaking to her like shit because she doesn't want to pose for a picture. She doesn't have to watch how she interacts with her friends because every innocent gesture of friendship is made out to be a secret message expressing an undying, forbidden, gay love. She doesn't have to ask her friends not to tell anyone when she will be home, to prevent fans camping outside her parents' house in an attempt to see her. She is able to speak to random people she doesn't know, and not worry that one of them is trying to trick her into revealing something private, or that what she says will end up in print the next day.

She is pure and untainted by the artifice of the media, and the trickery of the paparazzi. The majority of people in my world are out for what they can get, at any cost. Someone like Jess doesn't belong among people like this. She would be eaten alive, no matter how strong she is. It almost broke her once before, and I should have seen then what it was doing to her. Maybe I did, but I was too selfish. I wanted her, and in wanting her I proved myself to be no better than any of them.

This soul searching is giving me a headache. I stand up and pull some clothes on, and then Gillian from Modest calls to say the cars will pick us up in the early afternoon and take us to the stadium for soundcheck.

I call Liam, and then saunter along to his suite where I find Louis and Niall, both looking half asleep.

"Here he is, the scarlet fucking pimpernel," Louis mutters sleepily.

"What?" I ask in confusion.

"You - you've been AWOL for God knows how long. Everyone's been after you."

"Like who?"

"Well, Jess," Louis says, and I feel a nervous stabbing pain in my stomach at the mention of her name. "Have you spoken to her yet?" he asks.

"Not since the first conversation," I mumble, and flop on Liam's bed, pulling the pillow over my face. If I'd known I was going to be interrogated like this I would have stayed in my room.

"I told her I'd get you to call her," Louis says, casually.

I pull the pillow off my face and sit up sharply.

"What? When did you tell her that? You've spoken to her?"

Louis exchanges a brief look with Niall.

"Yeah, yesterday. She couldn't get hold of you, so she rang me. She was p-retty pissed off," he emphasises, pressing his lips together and raising his eyebrows. I'm not in the mood to laugh at the stupid face he is pulling.

"What did she say?" I hate myself for asking, yet I ask anyway.

"Karen tried to make a damage limitation call, to prevent her from selling her story. Jess, of course, saw right through it and gave her a mouthful."

'Jess, of course, saw right through it.'

Who is he to say things like this about MY girlfriend, like he knows her that well?

I open my mouth to snap at him, and then instead let my breath out in a short puff. She isn't my girlfriend anymore. I need my friends on my side. I don't want to argue with Louis over this.

"I can't believe you haven't told her about Briana," he says suddenly, and I snap my head up to look at him. "I was going to tell her yesterday, on the phone," he continues, "but Gillian was in the room and she nearly had a fit. She said because Jess isn't bound by a contract I couldn't tell her anything. She's too much of a risk at the moment. She's a woman scorned. And because she's close to you she could easily figure out that me having a baby means we won't tour next year. It's a legal minefield."

"That's ridiculous," I snort. "She won't say anything."

Louis gives me a doubtful look. "You can never tell with women. They're too volatile. One minute they're all fine and dandy, the next they're going fucking mental."

"I know Jess," I say, shaking my head. "She won't betray me. I know she won't."

Louis looks at me for a moment, his expression unreadable, and then gives a single nod and looks away.

"She wanted to know if Larry was real," Niall puts in, with a laugh.

"What?!" I exclaim, as they all fall about laughing.

"Yeah, she asked me," Louis confirms. "She knows Modest are covering up something big, so her first thought was Larry. You know that will never die don't you? We'll both be married to fucking hot women, with several great-grandkids sixty years down the line, and all these old biddies will be coming up to me like, 'Larry is real!'" He says these last three words in a wobbly high pitched voice that makes us all laugh again.

"I'm surprised you didn't tear her off a strip for bringing that up," I remark, once the laughter has subsided.

"Nah, it's Jess. She was upset enough as it is. If she mentions it again though, I'll give it to her straight," Louis declares. "And while we're on the subject, what the fuck were you doing, going with Sampaio?"

"She is fuckin' hot," Niall reasons, as though this should excuse it.

"Don't," I mutter. "I don't want to talk about it."

"We just thought you were happy with Jess," Liam says.

"I am. I was. I don't know, I was out of it. I didn't know what I was doing," I mumble.

"Yeah but that wouldn't have made you cheat," Liam presses. "It just doesn't add up, mate."

"I really don't want to talk about it," I say, firmly.

I can't go over it all again. My brain hurts from thinking. I need a few hours off.

My phone rings in my back pocket, and I pull it out to see Jess's name on the screen. I shove it away again and let it ring out. Louis watches me with a raised eyebrow, but I ignore him.

A couple of minutes later I get a phonecall from Mum. I've been putting this off long enough, so I move over to the sofa to answer it, and endure half an hour of reliving everything again in hushed tones, trying (and failing) to explain it all to her. By the time I come off the call, after receiving some stern words about my behaviour, I have quite honestly had enough. I throw my phone down onto the table and take a seat on a hard backed chair next to Niall, only for my ringtone to sound once more.

I growl in frustration and pick it up to look at the screen. It's Jess again.

"You gonna answer that?" Louis asks.

"No," I reply, shortly.

"You're being a prick."

"Fuck you."

"Guys," Liam intervenes, softly. "Don't fall out over this."

We both shift uncomfortably as we remember what happened the last time we fell out. It was one of the worst days of my life.

My phone stops ringing and Louis looks away. I can tell he is pissed off, and he has no right to be. I'm sick of people interfering in my relationship. We all sit in an awkward silence, before Louis' phone starts to ring. His eyes widen slightly as he looks at his display, which prompts me to look too, and my heart gives a sickening lurch as I see 'Jessieeee' on the screen.

Why is she calling Louis?

"Don't answer that," I snap, as he reaches for his phone.

"Harry," Liam says, with an undertone of warning.

"It's my phone, I'll do what I want," Louis retorts.

"I mean it," I say, a little louder, and I reach across the table and pull his phone away from him.

"Woah, what the fuck are you doing?" Louis protests, standing up and pushing his chair back. I stand up too, and in a flash Liam is between us. He actually thinks we're squaring up to each other.

I smirk at Liam and so does Louis, and then Louis and I catch each other's eye and we both snort.

"I'm not gonna punch him," Louis scoffs.

"Like you could even reach that high," I mock.

Liam glances nervously between us, and Niall looks on, his face impassive.

"Seriously," I say to Liam. "We're not gonna start a brawl. Give us some credit."

"I just want my fucking phone back," Louis states as it stops ringing, and I hold it out to him. He takes it from me and gives me a look that can only be described as sassy, and walks out of the room in a huff.

"Don't look at me like that," I moan at Liam, who is wearing his Concerned Parent expression.

"I'm worried about you, mate," he says, and Niall nods along.

"I am too," Niall offers. "You've taken this stuff with Jess really hard."

"I don't want to talk about it," I say, quickly.

"That's cool," Liam nods. "Just know that we're all here for you if you need us, yeah? Even Tommo, once he's pulled his head out of his own arse. Just don't bottle it up and end up doing a Zayn."

"I won't," I promise, truthfully.

Although, we all know we won't be touring next year anyway because of Louis' baby. We just haven't had the meeting to confirm it yet.

We sit in silence for about quarter of an hour. Jess hasn't tried to call me again and Louis hasn't returned. He's probably off sulking somewhere.

Just as I am thinking this, the door opens and Louis walks in. His face is serious, yet excited.

"Jess is here," he says, and my stomach drops to my toes as his words register. I look up, my mouth open in shock.

There is a tense silence in the room as Liam and Niall stare at us, their expressions mirroring my own.

"She's downstairs in one of the meeting rooms," Louis continues. "I've come to get you."

My heart is practically jumping out of my chest. Why is she here? Does she want me back?

I feel a pang of longing at this idea, and then quickly push it away. That ship has sailed. The damage is done, and is irreparable.

"Why?" I ask.

"Why?" Louis repeats in disbelief. "Why the fuck do you think? She wants to know why you cheated on her! You wouldn't answer her calls so she's come here to make you face up to it. The girl's got balls, I'll give her that."

"Fuckin' hell," Niall mutters.

"I - I don't want to see her," I stammer.

"Tough," Louis snaps. "Man the fuck up and get your miserable arse downstairs and apologise properly. She's in bits, and she doesn't deserve you wimping out of this. Sort yourself out, for fuck's sake."

His words hit home. I haven't got the energy to argue. I swallow hard and stand up.

"Where is she?"

"Meeting Room Two," Louis replies. "On the ground floor. Take the corridor to the right of the reception desk as you come out of the lift."

I nod and slip out of the room, but not before I hear Liam say softly, "Well done, Tommo."

I pause and listen as Niall pipes up, "Yeah, he needed that kick."

"I don't get why he's not begging for forgiveness," Louis' voice filters through the closing door. "I don't really get why he shagged Sampaio in the first place."

The others murmur assent and I turn and hurry away down the corridor, unwilling to listen to any more of their speculation.

They don't understand; no one does. I don't even understand. How can I expect anyone else to?

I reach the ground floor in the lift and make my way across the lobby, past reception and towards the meeting rooms. My heart pounds harder with every step I take, and with my movement comes clarity, and a sudden realisation at what I need to do; what I must do.

I can't drag her down any further with me. She deserves better. She deserves better than some lying, cheating scumbag who is incapable of resisting temptation, who hurts the people closest to him. She deserves better than me.

If you love someone, let them go.

But what if you never loved them at all?