Human [Harry Styles]

Chapter Fifteen.

Harry

            “Harry, are you sure you’re alright?”

            Startling myself out of my thoughts, I turn away from the rain-splattered car window to find my four best mates looking on with concern.

            My mouth feels dry for a moment when I open it to respond. “I’m fine,” I finally say, knowing very well that they won’t buy it for crap. Yet of course, I continue on anyways. “Really, just thinking is all.”

            The boys’ expressions look unsteady, hesitant. It’s obvious that they’re itching to say something, but they know it would likely be better to just leave it.

            Of course though, that doesn’t stop some.

            “Harry,” Liam sighs, looking down like he’s trying to figure out how to properly place his words. “You… you do know that we’re here for you, right? I mean really, all of us are.”

            I’m pretty confident that he’s trying to reassure me after all the times they’ve let me down, or at least that I’ve felt so. Liam, personally, is trying to make a gesture of friendship, real friendship. And I suppose that I’ve tried to be even mildly cross about the whole thing with him, so he’s trying, really.

            “Of course,” I say in response, adding a little smile in for emphasis. “I know that. Thank you.”

            Though he doesn’t exactly look reassured, and neither do any of the others, he simply nods and drops his gaze back to his phone, likely texting Danielle or talking to the fans on Twitter.

            Here, at this very moment, I feel like I’m in the wrong car.

            This car is headed towards the recording studio, so we can all really get started on the new album. Our management is really pushing us to get it out since the fans are always hungry for more, and also because I don’t know if they believe we’ll outlast many past boy bands.

            They’re all about the money and temporary big names after all.

            Anyways though, I feel like this car should be headed towards the courthouse, towards Marley.

            Even with the boys here (who might just be good support), I feel like I should be there for her. Today’s the day marking the week that has passed since the prosecutor called Marley, requesting her presence in court.

            The whole time, she’s gotten increasingly anxious about it, not like she doesn’t have good reason. I just know she’s had a lot of inner turmoil, more than usual, since getting that call.

            She’s going to be alone there too, since her parents are apparently far off in America and always have been since she got out of college but never made it to Uni. Which is exactly why I should be there for her when no one else can be.

            “Harry? We’re here.”

            I feel a pat on my leg and turn back to face the others, but by the time I do they’re already out of the SUV and being led inside.

            Reluctantly, still wishing the courthouse would replace the studio, I clamber out myself and follow them, fitting my hands snuggly into the pocket of my hoodie.

            “Alright boys,” one of the studio managers, Christy, says when we step inside, clapping her hands together cheerily. “New album, new songs, new recording! You lads ready?”