GOLDEN (harry styles)

sous la lune du canyon

(25/04/19)

HARRY'S P.O.V

The drive home was awful. Tears of anguish and agony streamed down my cheeks as they blurred my vision, turning the roads red with the shade of the streetlights. I couldn't stop gripping the steering wheel, knuckles turning an awful shade of white as I did so.

But that wasn't even the worst night since Nixie and I decided to go on a break.

I think the worst was when I was in Italy last week. I had poured alcohol down my throat relentlessly, sighing in relief as the effects wore on my brain. It was the first time since that night that I felt so close happiness. Maybe too close for my own good.

I pull open the car door weakly, feeling my skin slip away from the metal easily. I gasp in surprise, staring down at my hands as I touch the door again, feeling the strange sensation all over. A laugh erupts from my stomach. Why is this so funny?

"Harry, let's go..." Sarah ushers me into the taxi, a hand on my shoulder.

"Why..." I whine, still sitting down. "It's only three in the morning..."

"Exactly."

"Fun sponge." I smirk to myself, looking out of the window as we start driving.

Sarah and Charlotte make small talk with the driver, who seems like a very nice man. He's wearing a green polo shirt that brings out his flushed cheeks, and a backwards baseball cap. There's a questionable team emblem on it though so I don't compliment it. Instead, I raise my chin just a bit higher.

Then, I feel the weight resting in my hands, held tightly by my fingers. It's my phone. The pink phone case makes me blink a few times, seeming so illuminated in this weird lighting. I tap my password into it stupidly. My fingertips hit the screen, and I stifle a giggle at the noise. Sarah looks at me questioningly.

"It sounds funny." I beam.

Why is everything funny suddenly?

I start scrolling through the photos we took, all neon club lights and guitar close ups and a photo of a fish in its tank, for some reason. It's a cool fish. It has icy blue scales and wide smiling eyes a shade of black so dark they're like stone.

I reach the photos from a few weeks ago with Nixie. I smile, my heart dropping ever so slightly. My skin feels warmer.

I find the photos from when we first met. Then the ones from San Francisco. Then Paris. Paris seems too long ago now. We should go again!

It only takes a few seconds before I'm dialing Nix's phone number, heart thumping in my chest and my lungs gasping for air. My mind is spinning with her sunshine and smiles, and how she makes me feel. Or, made me feel.

Is this a good idea?

The phone starts ringing, making me hold it back from my ear. It's so loud. Louder than I thought it would be. It vibrates on my skin, a yellow-orange glow passing onto my hand from the picture of Nix and I on the screen. We're both smiling as waves crash behind us on the sand. Unknown to my phone, as the flash clicked for this photo, I poked my finger into her side to make her smile for real. Then she hit me. Jokingly, of course.

Then, the ringing ceases. I hear her voice.

"Harry?"

"Nix?" I frown.

I hear her pause through the line, pacing back and forth in her house. She seems to sit down, as I hear her feet stop and the familiar lull of the birds outside chirping happily in the sun. A wave of emotion hits me, enveloping any drunken thoughts I had just a second ago and making me want to cry. I want to cry. I want her back.