Emotional Vacancy

It's late and I am tired, wish I could spark a smile
The place is flying high but right now I want to be low
Don't want to move an inch, let alone a million miles
And I don't want to go but I know I gotta go

“What is up with you Martie?” Sage asked as we piled back into the car after a brief interview with a music magazine here in Peru. They stayed for the entire acoustic set that we played in a small alleyway between two big buildings. It was a small set with people who probably had no idea who we were poking their heads out to see what all the singing was about, but it was nice and relaxed. Sage had every right to be confused with me though. During the interview I had quoted several times that I wasn’t single or connected to Harry and at one point when the interviewer had asked about what my love life was like before we went on tour, I told him point blank, “It was fine, and none of them had chicken thighs or pigeon toes.”

I honestly had no idea what was with me. Ever since that stupid picture had shown up on Liam’s iPad that I happened to see, I had been in this mood that I couldn’t quite explain. It wasn’t like I was pissed off, but then it wasn’t like I was nonchalant about it either. And for some reason I didn’t want to be nonchalant about it. Harry has another main squeeze, so what?

“My stomach hurts,” I lied. It was also the most obvious lie I probably could’ve come up with.

My mind flashed back to sitting at the table for breakfast. Liam had told me to hurry and finish eating, but my stomach was turning so violently in my stomach that food only sounded nauseating at that point. I stared hard at Harry, debating on if I should say anything, but he continued writing away in that tiny little journal of his. It was when he shut the journal and ripped the earbuds from his ears that he looked up at me, giving me a warm smile. That’s when I decided I’d ignore that photo.

But I didn’t ignore it.

In fact, I couldn’t help but think about it. Sage and the interviewer hadn’t been much help with bringing up the rumors that were going around about us and Harry and Niall.

“Bullshit. I know you’re not going to tell me right now, but either way, it’ll come out with you. Remember the last time you bottled up your thoughts and emotions?”

I cut my eyes to her. I did. It was not a shining moment for me and I admit that when I finally do explode my mind doesn’t really see friend or enemy, it just sees a target, the person causing all of the anger. That’s how my last relationship ended. I broke up with him before he could break up with me. He was obviously scared of me after my blow up. And honestly, the last thing I wanted was to blow up and ostracize myself for the remainder of this world tour.

“It’s nothing.”

It didn’t take long though for my emotions to just bubble over though. By the time we had met up at the arena, the guys were sitting around, playing videogames. On top of everything, I had been craftily and very obviously ignoring Harry. Harry had greeted us when we walked in. I went straight for Niall and watched him kill a zombie from the comforts of the couch. Harry then took a seat next to me, in which I made up the lame excuse of I have to Skype my mother and I’d be back. When I left and went for me and Sage’s dressing room, I pulled out my laptop, but only to check Twitter and Youtube. It wasn’t like I could Skype my mom again—it’d only been a couple days since the last time and if my dad wasn’t there to help her set up the call, there’d be no way I could speak to her anyway. But as I was on Twitter, I could see the stupid trending topic about Harry and quickly clicked out of the browser, already feeling my blood boiling. But honestly, I still couldn’t think of a good reason as to why I should feel this upset over a photo of a guy that I barely knew.

I heard a soft knock at the door.

“Martinella?”

Silence.

“Hey, um Martie. I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch with me.”

More silence.

“Martie? Are you sleeping?”

I heard the doorknob click as it turned.

Now, I was already lying down, my head on the cushion of the couch, my body below my hips, perched precariously over the arm, all I had to do was close my eyes and Harry would automatically know I was sleeping.

But instead of doing that amazingly great plan, I found myself moving to stand up and by the time Harry had emerged from the opened door, I was setting my laptop down on the couch.

“Oh hey. I don’t know if you heard, but I wanted to go get some lunch.”

“Good for you,” I replied, walking over to the mini fridge and grabbing a bottle of water.

He seemed unfazed by the response.

“Um, would you like to come with me? I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but the guys want to eat the sandwiches from catering, but I don’t think I can eat another sandwich this week without going mental. It’s just so much bread.”

He gave a laugh.

“I’m not really hungry right now.”

He nodded. “Alright. Well tell your mum I said hello. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Why was he being so fucking sweet? It made it harder to be mad at him. It only made me angrier.

“You’re so fucking smooth aren’t you?” I shouted, bounding out of the room and into the hallway, following after him.

Shit. It’s happening.

I watched as his lanky figure stilled and turned around, a smile still on his face, but his eyebrows knitted in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean what I just said.”

He shook his head, trying to comprehend, his full lips slowly dropping from the smile.

“I don’ think I’m smooth…”

“Oh, but you most certainly are aren’t you? Saying awkward shit to me that’s actually kind of sweet while you’re seeing another girl.”

I watched as realization hit his face, his eyes lined red like he was on the verge of tears, the three creased lines, carved deep into his brow line and his head tilted. I could tell by that little glance and his perplexed face that he was more than just confused by my behavior—he seemed hurt?

“So what’s her name? The girl straddling you like a prized ass?”

“Prized donkey? You mean prized donkey?”

“I meant prized ass. I sad it exactly the way I meant it. Now, what’s her name?”

When he didn’t answer, I gave out a rueful laugh. Of course he didn’t want to tell me. He wanted whatever the fuck he was doing to me to continue. He wanted to keep saying these weird things and for there to be no consequences for them.

“Oh how dreadfully amusing. You know, I thought you were this sweet guy. I thought that you were different from how the media portrayed you—a vapid, shallow, womanizing, spoiled little teenage pop star!”

I’m not sure when my voice had gotten so loud, or when Zayn had popped into the hallway with Louis, but I couldn’t be bothered with those details. My brain only had room for one thing and that was getting every little emotion I had out of my body.

“I mean, you even told me you liked my body wash, like what the fuck!”

I wondered, in the saner part of my brain, just how crazy I sounded when I said that. I mean, I had to sound pretty fucking ridiculous at this point right? I even heard Zayn whispering to my right.

“Did she just bring up the body wash comment from breakfast?” he whispered, more to himself than to anyone else.

“Shut up Zayn,” I snapped, unable to deter myself from this train wreck, conductor: my fucked up emotions.

“I just…who the fuck are you?” I shouted, finally feeling the backlash of frustration that had been running through my veins like poison.

It was then that I felt Sage’s hand tap my shoulder, “You should calm down.”

It was my only warning from her. I looked at her as her hazel eyes stared at Harry a moment and I glared. And without another word or glance to anyone in the hallway, I shoved my way past Harry and outside. Fresh air and the freedom to think should bring me back to where I should be right?

It took no time at all to see my mistake in lashing out at Harry for a leaked photo. It took longer for me to really come to grips with having to apologize for my behavior. I was never good at apologizing, never. I’d rather make a joke, deliver a present, and hopefully distract one long enough that they’d forget I needed to apologize at all. I’d said sorry to only a handful of people: my mom and dad when I dropped out of school, Sage for the endless parade of exes that littered my dating record for the past year and a half none of which have been diamonds, and this one guy back in 8th grade named Harvey. But other than that, it wasn’t a word I used often.

But by the time I’d reached the latter conclusion, I was on stage, sitting at a piano, Sage somewhere out at the catwalk belting out the notes to Eyes Wide Shut. When I came off the stage, I couldn’t bear to look at Harry who sent a congratulatory remark to the two of us. As I tried to maneuver my way through the guys, Niall latched onto my arm, pulling me off towards a side hallway.

“Hey, how are you doing?” he asked, looking at me carefully. He was treating me like a live bomb. He was all the wiser for it.

“Overwhelmed.”

“Here, I got you a cup of tea. Figured you’d be wanting it to calm down.”

I thanked him. I was genuinely surprised, hiding it of course, but still surprised that Niall was trying to help me after my manic blow up. “I swear I’m not crazy.”

“Of course you aren’t. Why would ya be?”

I looked at him incredulously, “Have you somehow forgotten the last four hours? I mean…I blew up at Harry like some rage monster. I was like a mini version Hulk.”

“Oh…that, well, we all have moments, granted they usually happen later in the tour,” he said, shrugging his shoulders a bit, but giving me an encouraging smile.

“I hurt his feelings didn’t I?”

“Well…yeah, I mean you called the guy vapid, but he’s gotten over it since then. He congratulated you on a good show.”

“I know, but it doesn’t make me feel any better for what I did. Everybody else probably thinks I’m a total bitch.”

“No they don’t!” I gave Niall a look, my eyebrows raised and my eyes telling him I didn’t believe that. “It’s not that they think you’re a bitch, they’re just afraid to cross you right now is all.”

“Great,” I mumbled, “a truly amazing start to a year of working together.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. We all think it was kind of influenced by you going through…that time of the month…”

I gave him another incredulous look, “What? I’m not even on it anymore!”

“Best not to mention it to the guys…that’s your ‘Get out of jail free’ card.”

And that was the end to that part of my conversation with Niall. The thing I was really starting to like about Niall is the fact that he senses when a subject is dead to me. He has an uncanny ability to sense when I’m done with discussing something and easily roll into another conversation to divert attention.

“So, despite your bad day, I’m wondering if you still are gonna help me with Sage,” he started, as I took a sip of my steaming hot cup of tea.

“Of course. Since you guys have skipped a few steps and have already seen each other naked, I feel that asking her out won’t be so daunting.”

There was a moment of silence as I looked him over. He was a bit jittery, chewing on his bottom lip.

“You’re nervous.”

Niall was looking at me like a lost puppy. His blue eyes shined back at me as though he wasn’t following, and they held a sense of fear too. He was seriously nervous about asking her. It was cute, and endearing and I had to do everything in my power to help the poor guy out.

“Listen, after the concert, I suggest you go to the nearest shop that has flowers. Pick out the funkiest looking flowers you can, I don’t suggest roses although I don’t think Sage has anything against them. Next, you’ll go back to your room, you will change into comfortable clothes, comfortable being the key word, and you will leave your room, walk the two feet it takes to get to her door and knock. Honestly, just be yourself and don’t stress out. Sage likes a guy who doesn’t try so hard that he pretends to be someone he’s not and trust me…she likes who you are.”

The blond’s expression softened and he let out a breath that he was holding in. “You’re sure?”

“Dude, you’ve seen her naked twice, and once was on purpose. That counts for something, especially with Sage.”

My hotel room was more than a welcome sight by the time I stumbled into it, throwing my laptop bag atop the fluffy mattress and bundle of sheets. I quickly bee-lined for my suitcase, rummaging for a pair of sweats and tank top. When I finally found what I was looking for, I headed for the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. Placing my phone on the side closest to Harry’s sink, I let Lorde’s Gore and Glory take my mind off of everything that happened today as I wet my toothbrush and squeezed the toothpaste onto it.

It was somewhat working. The more I scrubbed my teeth with the toothbrush and focused on the lyrics, humming softly to myself, the less I had to deal with my head. My head was nothing but a steel-trap maze and if today wasn’t proof of that, I didn’t know what would be.

Once I rinsed my face off, I could hear something coming from Harry’s room. It didn’t sound normal. It sounded like a mix of sniffling and coughing. I sighed. I was honestly really disappointed in myself and Harry was a big reminder of that, but at the same time I had this sickening feeling that I should right my wrong. I mean, I made the boy cry. And I’d called him a myriad of things that were out of line. The least I could do was pop over and see if he was alright, right?

I hesitate for a whole two minutes before I turned the doorknob. It felt cold and it chilled me all the way through. I could feel my other hand shaking. I needed to calm down, but somehow I just couldn’t. Pushing open slowly, I was first met with the closet area of Harry’s hotel room. Much like the last hotel, we had connected rooms and I had ended up with Harry being my bathroom buddy yet again, and as much as I was okay with this arrangement earlier, this was now somewhat of a predicament, but hopefully not for long.

I edged further into the room, tripping a bit over a pair of boots. I silently hissed a cuss word and at audibly making my appearance, I heard the sniffle get cut short. Damn, so he obviously heard me.

“Harry?” I called out before rounding the corner into the main area of his room. There was a large bed in the center of the room. The bed was neatly made and that impossibly white color, the same as mine. My eyes swept across the room, going towards the door that led to the hallway, seeing a weird, highly artistic and way-out-of-my-league abstract painting adorning the wall. When I still saw no sign of Harry, I turned towards the balcony doors. There was a desk just to the left, up against the wall and the empty chair he wasn’t there either. I stopped at the foot of the bed. He’s definitely in here. I can hear him still sniffling, albeit leagues softer than before, but I can still hear it. I followed the sound back to the small hallway that had his clothes, but there was one thing I noticed: the mirror doors to the closet on what was my right when I walked in, was shut completely. I don’t think it was shut before.

“Harry?” I called out again. “I just wanted to talk.”

I took a deep breath, waiting to hear something moving in the closet, and when I did, I slid the door open to reveal a small-looking Harry. He wasn’t the tall, lanky guy full of wisdom that I had remembered from the last few days. He now looked like a hurt child, huddled in a closet, his knees pressed to his chest as his eyes reddened and his cheeks glistened in spots from the trail of tears. And that’s when my stomach gave a painful jab. I felt sick. I’m truly the scum of the Earth. Almost as if my body knew what to do without needing to consult my brain, I knelt down on my knees, my eyes never leaving Harry as he tried to control his breathing, wiping at his eyes but it was becoming a useless battle as more tears slid down his face. I stared, unable to look away. This was my punishment for my behavior earlier. This was what I needed to do in order to make amends for all the terrible things I’d said.

The silence was so thick that when I opened my mouth I couldn’t move my mouth for all the tension between us. So much tension that my vocal chords froze all on their own. I couldn’t let them remain that way though. It was so plain to see that I had to say something in the way of an apology.

“Harry…what are you doing in the closet?”

My voice sounded so strained, so foreign. I couldn’t be on the verge of tears myself.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he mumbled, his low voice sounding coarse and unsteady.

“I’m really…I was out of line for what I said earlier. I shouldn’t have said any of it, and I really had no right to be mad,” I started. I couldn’t stop staring at him. I’m not sure why, especially since the pain was so evident in his face that I could hardly take my eyes away from him, no matter how much it tore me to keep looking at him.

My brain desperately tried to grasp onto words that accurately fit what I wanted to say, but I kept coming up short. “She was so pretty…well I can’t say for her face, but she looked really pretty and who am I to be the police on who you associate yourself with or who you kiss or let straddle you. Again, I never meant to hurt your feelings, although when I said all those things I was hoping to hurt you a tiny bit.”

That wasn’t confusing or just a plain shit apology at all.

I listened as he gasped a couple of times, trying to settle himself down before he looked back at me with those shocking green eyes, those eyes that saw everything…anything.

“That’s a piss poor apology, but I can accept it. I really don’t think you meant to be as mean as you think you were.”

“I still shouldn’t have said it.”

Harry gave a little smile, one that looked painful. “Everybody says things they don’t really mean.”

There was a silence—a less tense silence that wasn’t as suffocating as the one before—that settled between us and pushed back so that I was being propped up on the opposing mirror closet door. I was a tad puzzled though. How was he able to forgive me so easily? Wasn’t he supposed to put up a grudge and ignore me for at least a week and perhaps the rest of the tour? Honestly, how was he able to just let me off the hook?

But it wasn’t my place to ask why he forgave me.

“And it was wrong of me to—“

“Have you ever stopped and wondered how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop?”

I gave him a strange look. What?

“Uh…no.”

“No?”

“No Harry. What does a lollypop have to do with anything?”

“Sometimes I feel like a lollypop.”

He was definitely back to being Awkward Harry. I looked at his face to see if he was kidding, if he would laugh at some point, but he didn’t. He was deadpan; a few tears slowly escaping down his cheek. I watched as one slowly rolled over his cheekbone, down his face and slowly drop from his chin onto his black skinny jeans. He looked so tortured. Had I never noticed this before?

“Why do you feel like a lollypop?”

“I feel like sometimes I meet people where all they do is wonder how many smiles and sweet words it’ll take 'til they break me, 'til they get to who I really am.”

I had no words. Yet another peculiar moment from Harry Styles, one-fifth of the international boy band One Direction. Here it was I thought he was being weird per usual, but there was so much wisdom in such a childish-seeming simile. And soon I found myself staring into the eyes of not a pop star, not a global sensation, a however-many platinum album artist, but the eyes of a nineteen-year-old boy. Harry had a level of fame that most people would never understand—hell, I’d never understand and I was three years older than him. To feel this way at nineteen with all the people you meet…none of it could be easy.

“How often are you right about that feeling?” I asked.

“More often than I’d like to think.”

I remained quiet as I let myself ponder the next question and how to really let it out and in the open. I wanted to ask if that’s what had happened with the leaked picture with the girl. Was she his girlfriend? Ex-girlfriend that no one knew about it? Was that what he was really upset about?

“When was the last time you had that feeling?”

“In New York, with a girl named Britta.”

I leaned forward, crossing my legs. I wanted to hear the story. “What happened?”

“We met at a coffee shop. I was wandering around New York by myself, we had a free day and I had traveled there ahead of everybody else,” he started, his voice soft, his eyes far-off, his words measured. “She was gorgeous to me. I thought she was sweet. She did humanitarian work, came from money and had a job at a fashion magazine. We connected over the Arctic Monkeys if you can believe it.”

I could tell this story was turning sour. “What happened?”

“Nothing. We hung out that night, at my hotel room. She brought a few her friends, three other girls and a guy. Everything seemed fine; we drank, laughed, played games, it was fine. I haven’t heard from her since…well until now.”

I quirked an eyebrow.

“The leaked photos. She’s trying to apologize for them, but they were leaked through a friend’s Instagram. She’s trying to say she had nothing to do with it, but…” He trailed off, looking at me, giving me a wry smile. He looked positively defeated, almost drained. “I’m not as dumb as people think I am.”

“Nobody thinks you’re dumb,” I rushed to say.

“But they do.”

Okay, so he was right. There were enough people who confused his slow speech, his measured pace of choosing words for being daft, but Harry had proven in the short span of time I’d been around him that he was anything but daft. He was sweet. He was caring. He had a depth that no one truly understood.

“You think I’m stupid for trusting her,” he simply stated.

“No. But I am wondering why you decided to hang out with her if you had that feeling about her.”

“I’d rather be surrounded and drowning with shallow people than to be alone.”

“That can’t be better than being alone.”

“Anything is better than being alone.”

And with all the wisdom Harry had spewed, he had an immature moment. I stared at him, feeling tears welling up in my own eyes, making the colors around me bleed together. “You couldn’t be farther from the truth. Harry, you’re not the only person who’s felt this way. You’re not alone. But you sell yourself so short, without even considering your true worth. You have one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever seen. You care, you’re highly empathetic and you are the most awkward person I’ve ever known. Seriously. You bring the awkward meter way over what it should be in a normal conversation, but, that’s what makes you a gem Harry. And the fact that you’d want to just give that to someone as unworthy as this Britta girl…it makes no sense.”

For the first time since I walked in the room, Harry moved towards me, clamoring slightly and with so much force, he lunged forward and latched his arms around my shoulders, his face buried in my shoulder. He held me a moment as I held him back, my hand rubbing his back a moment. As Harry pulled away, he gave me a feather-light kiss on my cheek.

“It’s a shame you haven’t picked up on that question you asked me.”

“And when did I ask you this question?”

“You really don’t remember do you?”

“No?” I narrowed my eyes in suspicion.

“A shame, because my answer is still yes.”