Harry slammed himself hard against the back of the couch, moaning at his sore and tired muscles. He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling for minute and then closed his eyes. He inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled as he raised his head up, opening his eyes again. He leaned forward and pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling forcefully once more. Work outs were invigorating, but also exhausting. He moved his hand from his nose to the back of his neck and rubbed it slowly, eyes spacey, staring at nothing, lost in thought. He suddenly twitched like he remembered something and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He had a few new messages:

Kendall: Hey! Are you coming over tonight? I heard you were in the area ;)

Harry stared hard at his screen, his phone almost squeaking from the pressure of his fingers on the back of it. Why did hanging out with a friend, who happens to be a girl, always hold the possibility of massive issues? It was...stupid!

"Easy, Harry...they're just very dedicated fans!" He whispered to himself as he began to type on his phone.

Harry: Sure! Need me to bring anything?

Not even a full minute later, his phone buzzed,

Kendall: No, just come. Except bring a swimsuit, we r gonna go out on the yacht.

Harry: ok, does five sound good?

Kendall: that would be perfect!! xo

Harry: see you then. x

Harry slid his phone across the coffee table and  leaned his forearms on his knees.

A man suddenly walked into the room, singing a little ditty under his breath. He wore a towel around his waist, and a second towel around his shoulders. He had a pair of jeans slung over his right shoulder, his fingers casually hooked through the belt loops of the jeans, holding them in place.

"Looks like it's your turn for the shower, mate." The newcomer took the towel off from around his shoulders and threw it at Harry.

Harry caught the towel and wrinkled his nose, "are you saying I stink, Liam?"

The man, Liam, chuckled, "I am not saying anything...you decide for yourself!"

Harry sat with the towel still on his lap and watched as Liam sauntered out of the room. He shook his head smirking as he got up and headed to the bathroom.

He walked in, shut and locked the door. He really didn't feel like any pranks at the moment. He put his hands on either side of the sink and stared into the mirror. The mirror had slight fog still on it from Liam's shower. It was a large, beautiful mirror, sleek and modern, spanning the entire width of the sink's counter top and nearly reaching the bathroom's ceiling. The face looking back at Harry was young. He reached up and pulled the elastic that had been holding his hair out of the way and shook his head, letting the strands fly where they would. Now the face looked wild and mysterious with the dark, curling locks sweeping across his forehead and cheeks, skimming just past his shoulders. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, then took his shirt off. He looked back in the mirror again. His massive ship tattoo wasn't as massive as it had once been. He twisted his left arm around until he had a complete view of his tattoo of the Holy Bible. He continued to look in the mirror, his glance travelling up his arm, as to the two swallows framing just above the butterfly on his chest. He flashed back to when he first showed the world the new tattoos he'd gotten in the States: back when Ellen was interviewing them.

He glanced up one last time at his own face. So much had changed. So much fun. So many places. So much...

Regret.

No, not regret, but it was...like regret, and Harry couldn't put his finger on why he felt so off.

Harry turned on the shower and was soon standing under its spray, allowing the hot water to soothe the aching muscles in his back and shoulders.

No, it's not regret, it's...emptiness. I'm tired. I want to sing, but I want to do something different. I don't want to upset anyone. I hate upsetting people. Why can't everyone see that? I don't want to do it the way Zayn did, ditching us and allowing hard feelings and bitterness to build, because regardless of what the world thinks we are or were...we were friends.

Harry shook himself as he finished his shower, trying to rid himself of the negative thoughts entangling him in their vicious claws.

He left the bathroom and sauntered over to his room, found something to put on then decided to venture to the kitchen. It was only 2:30, he had lots of time still to kill before heading over to Kendall's.

His roommates in this penthouse-style hotel room had left the dishes absolutely everywhere following lunch. He stared at the chaos for a minute until he found the kettle under a dishtowel, filled it with water and put it on the stovetop to boil. He reached down a mug from the cupboard and put a teabag in it, ready and waiting for when the kettle boiled.

He turned away from the mug and stared at the chaos again. He was fighting the urge to be lazy, and with a dramatic sigh, began stacking dishes. He filled the sink with hot soapy water and began washing dishes. Instead of it feeling like work though, he felt surprisingly nostalgic, missing the very thing he once hated.

The screeching kettle soon broke into his thoughts and as he reached over to move it off the stove, Louis and Niall walked in, quietly chatting.

"We heard the kettle boil and thought we would help ourselves," Niall said with a wink.

"Harry! Are you washing the dishes? That's a good lad." Louis patted Harry's shoulder as he reached past him to get mugs for Niall and himself.

"If you're in the mood for making tea, Louis, would you put some water in mine?" Harry nodded in the direction of his waiting mug.

"Sure mate."

As Louis poured the hot water into the three mugs, Niall picked up the dishtowel from the counter where Harry had put it when he had tossed it off the kettle.

"Can't let you be the only one who is a goody-two-shoes in this place!" Niall said to Harry's bewildered look. Niall was usually too busy chattering to help. He certainly must have kissed the Blarney Stone at some point in his life. Harry didn't help all that often either, but that was because other people would get to it before he did.

Louis casually leaned against the wall opposite the other two and sipped his tea. Niall would dry a dish and Louis would tell him where it went.

"How do you know where everything goes?" Niall laughed after the fifth item had been successfully put away.

Louis just shrugged and looked at the spoon in Niall's towelled hand, "that goes on that empty hook above the stove."

"I think Liam's gonna throw a fit when he sees what we've done," Harry said as he drained the sink of water and wiped it down. He dried his hands on Niall's dishtowel, grabbed his now cooled off tea, and went to get his phone from the coffee table.

He picked it up, only to reveal that his lock screen was now a picture of Niall's tongue and Louis' eyeball.

"Seriously guys!" Harry laughed out loud, "couldn't you have been a little more imaginative?"

"What?" Niall faked innocence as he pulled his own phone out of his pocket to check Twitter.

Harry just shook his head. "If you need me I'm in my room having a nap," he called over his shoulder as he left the room.

Harry shut the door to his room and stretched.

It was now close to three, so he could shut his eyes for about an hour or so. He flopped face first on his rumpled bed and rolled onto his back, his still somewhat wet hair clinging to his neck and dampening his shirt collar.

He slowly lifted his left leg onto his bed and left his right one bent, his foot still on the floor. He breathed contentedly and closed his eyes. After about 3 minutes, his eyes flew open again.

"Err!" He moaned as he rubbed his face. He was so tired, but sleep wouldn't come. He picked up his phone again and checked his messages. His sister had sent him a pic of something she had been doing and his mum sent him an all lovey message about missing him. He loved his mum. He missed his mum. Life hadn't been easy and it was just...they were close. And he missed her.

Shaking his head and pulling himself the rest of the way on the bed, he slung a pillow under his head and shoulders to prop himself up a little and closed his messages, only to find himself staring at his Wattpad app. He hadn't read anything that good lately, but he had this annoying feeling that there was something he had wanted to look into.

"Oh yeah!...that hashtag. What was it again?" He muttered to himself. After doing a quick search, he found it: #readwattpadkeepitreal.

Nobody had sent the hashtag directly to him, which he thought strange...what was this they were saying? He had started to read something, but Niall had walked in on him the last time. He found it was a story: a story about him and the boys.

This feels weird.

He tapped on it.

Why am I reading this?

He read the prologue.

Why do I care?

"Because it has so much attention! So shut the &$@!? up and let me read!!" He growled at his inner questions, blushing slightly as he realized he was actually yelling at himself.

The prologue sounds interesting. Maybe it will be a good one and will give the boys and me a laugh!

And having completely justified it in his mind, he gave up on napping and began reading, Keep It Real.