Rainy Days and Mondays

Some people say that sorrow is like a prison. A cold hard cell you make for yourself and with the right keys you can unlock it and be free. For me it’s totally the opposite. Sorrow is like a wonderland. A never ending rabbit hole of feelings to fall down. It makes you mad, it makes you a different person than you were the morning you arrived but at the end of the day you don’t wanna go home. Being mad is good sometimes. Feeling sorrow is good sometimes because at least you know you still feel something.

There were a million and one wonders in the world. A whole plethora of things that made Pippa curious. He was one amongst many.

He came every Monday. He always ordered a small black coffee and he always sat at the table by the window that gave a glorious view of early morning London traffic. His hair was always a mess and he always carried a worn leather journal under his arm. He always gave crumpled notes and left faded twenty pence in the tip jar and left Pippa’s mind in a whirl.

She often found herself making up stories about him in her spare time. Maybe he was an uni student with pent up angst and wrote his feeling in lyrics. Or maybe he was a struggling writer who wrote down his deepest feelings, narrating his life in a dramatic voice over fashion in his head as he looked out the window. Either way the mystery surrounding him made her slightly infatuated. He was an enigma.

“It’s so rude to stare, Pip."

It was Monday again. Pippa always worked the morning shift at the cafe before happily catching the bus to her afternoon classes. He was there in all his mysterious glory, sitting at the table scribbling away in that journal of his. Pippa furrowed her brows and continued the task of wiping down the counter.

"I am not staring, Louis.” she insisted and her male companion rolled his teal eyes with a sigh.

“You’ve been staring at him ever since he’s been coming around. Get the balls to talk to him or else some other girl will beat you to the punch.”

Louis danced around her to get to the expresso machine and Pippa rolled her eyes.

“I don’t have balls, Louis and would you shut up! You’re so loud.” she hissed at him praying that maybe the acoustic music playing through the cafe or the hum of the espresso machine would drown out their conversation.

“Well, grow what ever it is you women are capable of growing and talk to him. Let me give you a hint. It’s not always easy for a bloke to approach a girl. Sometimes guys like to sit back and wait for you to come to them. Simple principle: You want something, you go get it.”

Pippa wrestled her unruly curls into the neatest bun possible and sighed. “It’s not even that serious, Lou.”

“Oh really, but the way you always look at him tells me otherwise.” Another one of her wisecracking friends had arrived, wiggling is eyebrows at her suggestively and stuffing his face with a cinnamon roll.

“Not you too, Niall!”

The blonde boy shrugged. “I’m just calling it like I see it, Pip. I can play matchmaker if you want me to.”

“Bugger off, Niall. And I hope you know you’re adding the money for that in the tip jar.” Pippa replied vexedly pointing to the pastry in her friend’s sticky fingers.

He’s gone in a flash, leaving cafe’s brass bell ringing behind him and Pippa in deeper thought. Where did he go when he left there? Did he have a job? Did he take classes? Did he have a girlfriend?

“Shame, ‘nother opportunity wasted.” Niall clucked his tongue.

Pippa wasn’t listening, her attention was set on the tattered leather journal sitting on the mahogany table top.

“He left his journal.” she announced softly.

A grin that Pippa knew too well spread across Louis’ face.

“Give it 'im. Go on! Run after him before it’s too late.” he grinned.

Pippa could feel her heart racing with excitement. She might get to talk to him and imagine what that could lead to. She might actually get to solve the mystery that was him.

She maneuvered from behind the counter and snatched up the leather notebook sitting on the table. It was heavy, littered with scraps of paper inside and by the fading leather along the spine Pippa could tell it was well used.

There was a sentence scribbled in black sharpie near the spine.

She didn’t realize, now that’s a lot of love.

Pippa hugged the journal to her chest and burst through the cafe door in search of him. She could see him. He wasn’t far. She noticed his messy hair anywhere. He was sat at a bus stop, coat pulled around him tightly. There was a mist in the air. It would soon rain.

“Hey! Hey!"

The words came out choppy as she ran, swinging her arms wildly. She was sure she looked stupid but she wasn’t sure if he saw her. It wouldn’t be a surprise. She’d been invisible to him all this time. One more time wouldn’t hurt.

"You. You left this.” Pippa paused to catch her breath as she studied him. She never had time to realize just how stunning he was and she felt the butterflies building up in her stomach as his emerald eyes, framed by long lashes met hers. His eyebrows furrowed in a brooding, deep manner.

“Your journal, you left it in the cafe. The one you come to every Monday morning?” she inquired. Maybe he was the wrong guy. Maybe the right one had gone and he’d never come back to the cafe.

“Yeah. I know.” he replied standing to his feet. He was very statuesque and towered over her by a few inches. His large hand snatched the leather journal bound by her arms and he tucked it under his own.

Pippa smiled despite her shock.

“Pippa. I’m Pippa.”

He blinked, unmoved by the introduction.

“Yeah, I know.” he repeated.

Of all the many stories, all the many day dreams that Pippa had played out in her head about him, she never expected him to be anything like this. Not cross or seemingly angry or just plain rude.

“And you are? I told you my name. Shouldn’t you tell me yours?” she asked smoothing her hands over her apron.

She saw a flash of a dimple in his cheek as his lips curved upward ever so slightly.

“Harry.”

A small grin grew across Pippa’s face and she would hear thunder rumbling in the distance.

“It’s a gloomy day, Harry. One more smile would probably chase some of the clouds away,” she giggled and Harry scowled.

“Happiness isn’t everything. Happiness is overrated.”

Pippa felt her stomach dropping. For a guy so attractive and seemingly creative he sure had a negative disposition.

“If you want it to be then it will.” she spoke softly as a drizzle of rain hit her skin.

“I’ve got a bus to catch.”

Pippa sighed in defeat and turned on her heels in route of the cafe. It was raining harder now, causing her hair to frizz and shirt to cling to her skin. She felt stupid, having wasted so much time making up stories and fantasies about this Harry guy who’d turned out to be a total bell-end. It was a harsh reality of life. Things were never as they seemed.

“How’d it go Pip? Did he profess his love for you? Did he kiss you in the rain?” Niall asked excitedly upon her return, having yet to wipe the sticky crumbs from his face. Pippa shrugged whilst going back to her station at the counter and wringing out her wet apron.

“He’s not at all who I thought him to be. He’s so… rude.” she replied.

“Gee, I’m sorry Pip. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. Sorry I got your hopes up. Don’t worry about him. He’s a douche bag.” Louis replied wrapping an arm around his friend.

“Big deal, Lou. Life still goes on, right?”

For Pippa at least, it did.

****

Sometimes, I’m angry. No, never mind that, EVERYDAY I’m angry. Even if it’s a good day. I’m angry at God and at her but the person I despise the most is ME. Why couldn’t it be me instead of her. Why do I have to be ME? I hate myself and I’m not afraid to admit it. I’d trade places with the unluckiest bloke in the world if it meant I didn’t have to wake up and face myself everyday.

It was early and Pippa was tired. She’d stayed up late to squeeze in some course reading before opening up the cafe at a quarter to 7 but she knew with a cup of brew she’d have enough energy for the day. Mondays were always rough. Louis had overslept and was running late and Niall was doozing off in the break room avoiding customers like he always did. But no matter what happened Pippa still enjoyed her Mondays.

A few loyal customers had stopped by to grab their morning coffee on their commute to work and there was a lull of activity in the cafe. Pippa made herself comfortable behind the counter humming along to the sounds of Ed Sheeran and nibbling on a hot scone that Tilly, the head baker had been generous enough to share.

It was nearly nine when he arrived, the same brooding expression plastered on his face and leather journal tucked under his arm. Despite their encounter a week before, Pippa smiled warmly as she watched him march up to the counter. She couldn’t help but feel the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Even if he was a jerk, she still found him insanely attractive. Pippa wasn’t one to hold grudges anyway. She’d never been.

“Good morning! How are you today?” she greeted warmly.

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’m alive.”

Pippa grinned whilst catching her bottom lip between her teeth. Pretty ace response.

“What can I get for you today? Small black coffee?”

His emerald eyes met hers causing her breath to hitch in her throat and he sighed.

“Look, about last week. Sorry, I was just havin an rough day, yeah?” He ran a hand through his mess of curls nervously.

“You’re forgiven, Harry. Everyone has hard days sometimes. It’s understandable.” she grinned whilst going to the coffee pot to pour his order. Her eye caught sight of the journal that was now sitting on the counter.

“Do you like to write?” Pippa inquired pushing the coffee mug in front of him and heading to the cash register.

“I do it everyday.” Came Harry’s raspy reply.

Pippa giggled. “I love it too! I’m going to uni for English.”

His eyebrows furrowed once more as he trapped his lip between his teeth.

“I do too. Well, I used to ,I mean.” His tone was cold and distant and he said no more as he laid the crumpled notes on the counter to pay for his beverage.

Pippa frowned slightly and placed the money in the cash drawer.

“Maybe I can read some of you writings someday and maybe you can read mine?” she suggested.

She didn’t know what was making her talk to a guy who’d been so rude to her before. Maybe it was his apology and glittering green eyes or the hint of dimples she could see in his cheeks or maybe it was just the ugly truth that she’d fallen head over heels for his mystique.

“No. I-I don’t know you. They’re personal.”

With that he snatched his cup of coffee and leather journal and marched over to his usual table. Pippa sighed. Just when she thought she a was making a breakthrough he went back to his earlier demeanor. It appeared he was capable of being nice or had been at one point but something had changed that along the way and Pippa wanted to know just what.

The brass bell of the cafe door rang and Louis appeared with messy bed hair, sleepy teal eyes and a very wrinkled apron. He slumped over to counter and squeaked a greeting to Pippa.

“You’re late, Tomlinson.” Pippa giggled.

He sighed. “Yeah, tell me about it. Monday’s are the worst.”

Louis hopped behind the counter noticing Harry sat at his table and eyed Pippa.

“Still in a shitty mood, yeah?” he whispered, jerking his head in Harry’s direction.

A slow smile settled on her face. “He apologized but sort of snapped on me again. There’s something about him, Louis that makes him this way. I think it has something to do with the journal he’s always carrying.”

Louis kinked a brow. “And so you’re saying?”

“I kind of want to find out what it is.”

Louis shook his head sending his hair across his forehead in a sweeping motion.

“I don’t get it Pip. You want to get to know him just so you can figure out what crawled up his ass and died, and then what? What if he’s just naturally a jerk?”

Pippa shrugged. “I don’t see it that way but if he is, I reckon I’ll find out.”

Louis grinned. “Leave it up to you to see the good in everyone. It’s a good quality to have but it can also lead to getting hurt and I just don’t want that for you, Pip.”

She grinned. “I don’t think you can hurt someone when you haven’t recovered from your own wounds.”
****

I gave her everything. She was everything. My love for her was endless. I’d do anything for her. But in the end it wasn’t enough. I thought it was enough. I thought we were enough. But I reckon I was all wrong. In the end she broke me. I bared my heart and she sucked me dry. It wasn’t my choice to fall apart like this. It was bound to happen. It just must have been part of her destiny. To come into my life, shake it up and be gone like a fleeting whisper in the night. Sometimes, I resent her for that but if I could have her back I’d let her break my heart a million more times.

It was Thursday. Pippa couldn’t contain her yawns and she clutched her bag tighter whilst trying to keep a decent pace along the sidewalk. She’d just come from her last class for the day- creative writing. She thought about him again. What might he write? What was his writing style? Did he write prose or poetry?

Pippa found herself thinking about Harry more frequently lately. She thought about him when she spotted his table, vacant in the cafe, whenever anyone ordered a black coffee or whenever she had a spare moment to herself. There was something about him that wouldn’t allow her mind to get a rest and with all his deep, brooding exterior she wondered if his mind ever did.

She smiled to herself knowing that she’d have just enough time to grab a bite of dinner and do some course reading before heading off to bed whilst her flatmate Zayn would just be heading to his own classes by the time she arrived home. The pair were polar opposites, Pippa always smiling and giggling whilst Zayn was quite and observant and usually only spoke when he had something important to say. The only thing they seemed to have in common was their love of art and the pile of bills stacked on the countertop but they still managed to make the relationship work.

Pippa was quite tired, the walk from her classes and flat were quite the distance but she’d saved just enough money to take the tube. It was rare luxury for her as she was only left with mere pocket change during the first of the months after helping Zayn with rent and surviving on tips for the rest of the month.

The hum and bustle of the station brought a smile to Pippa’s face. Ever since she was a little girl she loved visiting the station and seeing all the trains and people go by. They all looked so important and determined to her young eyes, as if the trains were taking them big places. She wanted to go big places too. Someday.

Amongst the station activity, Pippa’s ears caught a hold of the strum of a guitar. The melody was bitter yet sweet, rough but tender, haunting yet soothing and Pippa couldn’t help but follow it’s every note. Her eyes widened in shock but she grinned when she spotted him, his guitar case open at his feet, growing hair falling over his eyes and long fingers strumming just as furiously as he wrote. He looked so concentrated and focused. So drawn into the tune it was as if he’d lived it.

“Harry!” Pippa chirped breaking his concentration and causing the notes to go awry.

His eyebrows furrowed and he scowled, an expression that Pippa had come to enjoy quite a bit.

“You again,” he rasped.

She grinned clutching her bag closer.

“I didn’t know you played.” Pippa spoke excitedly.

First he writes, now he plays guitar. Her attraction to him was only growing stronger.

“What are you doing here?” Harry deadpanned

She giggled. “Catching a bus to go home.” She kinked a brow “You?”

He shrugged sloppily. “Playing."

Pippa eyed the open guitar case, a few passers had dropped a few notes and pences in. Doing the mental math there wasn’t a lot of money present and Pippa knew for sure he wasn’t just playing for his health.

She smiled, "You’re good.”

Harry stared down at his ragged boots bringing his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Not a good as her. ”

Her. The word seemed to hang in the air and left Pippa curious. She smiled placing the notes she intended to use for the tube in his guitar case. Harry’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he felt his heart sinking and anger bubbling in his chest all at the same time.

“I don’t want your money.” he sneered.

“You give us tips all the time. Just returning the favor. You’re a good player.” Pippa grinned.

Harry tugged at his unruly curls and sighed. His green eyes narrowed at the smiling girl in front of him and he felt as if he might scream.

“You smile too fucking much!” he shouted.

Pippa sighed bringing her lip between her teeth. It was a fact that she couldn’t deny. She always seemed to be smiling. Even when she wasn’t feeling her best. Smiling was an everyday essential to her. It was the best thing a person could wear. It made you feel invincible, as if you could conquer the world. She didn’t know why she smiled so much. She just did.

She folded her arms across her chest, her eyebrows raised.

“Is it not better than frowning all the time? Do you realize the energy to waste being so goddamed angry could be spent on something better? Life’s too short to spend it unhappy. People are here one moment and gone the next. Do you want people to remember you as some bitter asshole when you die?!?” She snapped. She was angry and she didn’t know exactly why.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a long walk home.”

Pippa clutched her bag so tight she was sure she had cut the circulation from her hands as she swiftly walked away trying her hardest to maneuver around the crowd in a polite manner. Forget about him. She didn’t need him and he didn’t need her. It was just a silly crush. A juvenile infatuation. A stupid crush. She wished she’d never bothered. Louis had been right after all.

“Pippa!"

The words sailed out of his mouth in delicate syllables and anchored in her ears. Pippa swore it was the most ethereal sound it the world.

She spun around upon feeling a large hand sink into her skin. Pippa furrowed her brows at him, his emerald eyes clear with a soft expression she didn’t know he was capable of using. She felt her anger slowly fading.

"I’m sorry. Please, let me walk you home?” Harry’s eyebrows raised in a hopeful manner. It was the most expressive Pippa had ever seen him.

She chewed her bottom lip in thought.

“My smiling won’t bother you?”

His lips curved upward, the closest thing she’d get to a smile as he adjusted the guitar case on his back.

“No. I reckon I’ll try to ignore it.”

Pippa grinned.

“You know, I bet you’d be twice as handsome if you smiled sometimes.”

”***
And so it began. The reluctant blossoming of a friendship. Their relationship was strange, Pippa’s bright personality out shined Harry’s gloomy one but that didn’t mean they didn’t have anything in common. Pippa told Harry about the books she read in uni and he taught her a few cords on his guitar. He came to the cafe more often and talked to her when she had breaks and occasionally walked her home. She invited him in her flat a few times and they held conversations about all sorts of things, literature, music, art. Zayn even joined in some nights if he didn’t have class.

Harry had seen her dancing and giggling in the rain, her hair wild and wet. He’d studied the way her face lit up whenever she talked about a new book she was reading or how she always tugged at her bottom lip whenever she was concentrating hard on something or when she was frustrated. He knew that she liked lots of sugar and creme in her coffee and that she loved the smell of a good hazel nut blend. He knew that Jane Austin novels were her guilty pleasure and he knew about the birthmark on her neck that she often tried to hide.

Pippa found out things about Harry too. Many things that surprised her, like how he preferred staying in with a good cup of tea to going out on the town, his interest in novice photography and indie rock and how couldn’t walk in a straight line because his right leg was half an inch shorter than his left leg. Pippa knew the curve of his lips, the crease between his brows, his sharp jawline and the tiny mole by his chin. She knew every detail of him but she didn’t. She didn’t know what ideas were swirling around his head, his biggest hopes and dreams. But most importantly, she didn’t know about her. He never dared speak of her and Pippa was terribly curious

She’s breaking me. Maybe I need to distance myself. I find myself entranced in her smile and mesmerized by her laugh. I get distracted when I look into her eyes. I nearly forget my name as I study the curve of her lips when she speaks. She makes me feel things. Things I haven’t felt in forever. She’s lovely. Terribly lovely and she’s breaking me. I don’t want her to. I can’t fall for her. I can’t. If I do I’ll be replacing HER. And I can never forgive myself for that. I can’t fall for her. I won’t fall for her. I have to protect my heart.

“You look tired.” Pippa announced glancing at Harry’s handsome face and sleepy eyes as she fiddled with the keys to her flat.

“I’m okay.” Harry announced slowly running a hand through his messy hair.

“You can stay for the night if you want. I’m sure Zayn wouldn’t mind. You could take the couch.” she continued whilst opening the door and stooping to pick up the mail that had been delivered with a sigh.

Harry felt a pain in his chest and he stood in the frame of the door, eyebrows furrowed.

“I should get going, really."

Pippa frowned slightly.

"Please stay for cuppa at least?”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

Harry’s eyes wondered around the flat nervously as Pippa prepared tea, catching glimpses of some of the paintings that Zayn was perfecting, a few pictures of Pippa with her school mates a few with her family. Her age varies in each of them but her bright smile never faulters. She’s surrounded by the company of males in nearly everyone of them and it made Harry curious.

“Tea is served.” Pippa giggled upon her return as she balanced tea cups in her hand. She looked silly and endearingly goofy and Harry felt the corner of his lips curling into the smallest smile.

With a sweet sigh she handed the painted mug over to him and took a seat near him on the second hand burlap sofa. Pippa brought the cup to her lips with a smile but Harry just stared at his own cup with a sigh.

“Pip, where’s your mum?” he asked in his slow voice.

Pippa sat her cup on the table with a sigh. She could feel her stomach twisting into odd knots and she fiddled with her mass of ringlets.

“She’s dead.” The words came out in a nearly cheerful chirp but it was still all so painful. Harry was almost sorry that he asked.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” he replied feverishly.

The smile he’d come to adore spread across her face slowly.

“No need to apologize, Harry. Death is a part of life. We all have to die someday, yeah?” Pippa shrugged before going back to her tea and Harry stared at her in awe.

How could she greet the macabre concept of death with such a positive attitude?

“It was cancer,” she continued as if reading his mind.

“I was pretty young when she got really sick. I don’t remember much of it but I always remember her smiling even, when she felt the worst. I guess that’s why I smile so much. It was the only lesson I learned from my mum.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair in confusion.

“But, don’t you miss her?”

Pippa smiled.

“What I remember of her. She’ll always have a place in my heart. I don’t feel as if anything is missing from my life by not having her around. I’ve still got my dad and brothers who care for me and I’ve got Louis, Niall and Zayn. I reckon I’m pretty content."

"But, I don’t understand. You were a little girl and your mum was taken from you. Don’t you miss her? How can you be like this? How can you possibly be happy? "

Harry was close enough for her to smell his cologne. His green eyes burned into hers and Pippa could feel her breath hitching in her throat. Harry could feel the frustration and sorrow building in this chest and he couldn’t quite explain why he felt this way.

Pippa smiled softly.

"Harry, you don’t need a perfect life to be happy. Happiness is what you make it. You can’t rely on other people. It’s all you, Harry. All your choice to make.”

She reached over and touched his hand. Harry felt the swarm of butterflies invading his stomach and the hammering of his heart against his chest. It was an antiquated feeling, like taking a dusty old book off a shelf and opening it for the first time in ages.

Harry studied the pout of her lips and he suddenly felt the strange urge to touch them. He reached out, dragging his thumb across the curve of her bottom lip, causing Pippa to grow stiff. Her breath hitched in her throat but she didn’t resist when Harry leaned over, pressing his mouth to hers in a nearly animal manner.

It’d felt like forever since he’d done that. Since he’d even encountered someone he wanted to kiss. Someone who might just care about him . Someone he might just care about. It’d been so long. Not since her. Her

Harry suddenly snatched away, a tidal wave of emotions washing over him. Pippa stared at him in shock, secretly satisfied yet disappointed that their moment had been cut short. She didn’t know what had come over him and neither did he.

“Pip- I- Didn’t mean for this to happen I’m sorry. I-I have to get going. I have to go.” he stuttered whilst gathering his belongings in a rushed manner.

Pippa frowned.

“Harry! Wait! Please! We can talk if you want.” She caught hold of his arm and her mind spun trying to process everything that happened.

“No-no. I have to go. Don’t touch me!”

Her touch was electrifying and dangerous and he just had to get away.

In the blink of eye he was running out door leaving them both confused. He didn’t know why he was running. He didn’t know what he was running from. Neither did Pippa.

*****

I enjoyed it. Her lips were soft. Her mouth was sweet. I enjoyed it very much. But I shouldn’t have. I like her. I’d like to win her affection but SHE won’t let me. Every time she looks at me and I notice the sparkle in her eye she’s at the back of my mind. I can’t give in. I want to give in but SHE won’t let me. It’s not fair to her. I can’t give in. She’s so lovely and so inviting but I can’t give in. I’d rather wallow in my misery, in the shadow of her memory than move on. I’m too afraid that if I do, I’ll forget her.

“Something is wrong, something is terribly wrong.” Louis announced upon his arrival in the break room. His eyes fell suspiciously upon the vexed and tired looking Pippa who was nearly unrecognizable when she wasn’t beaming. She’d been like this for days and Louis could practically taste gloom in her disposition.

It was a quarter till opening. Pippa raised an eyebrow at her friend as she stirred her coffee and Louis pulled up a chair at the small wooden table next to her.

“Tell me about it, Pip.” he urged.

Pippa shrugged. “There’s nothing to tell, just stressed from school I reckon.”

She paced over to the coffee machine to pour Louis a cup, secretly hoping that the conversation had come to an end. But Pippa knew Louis all too well and she knew it would take a lot for him to drop the case.

“You’re lying. Something’s going on between you and that Styles boy.” he replied with a curt nod as he accepted the warm mug in Pippa’s hands.

“What did I tell you, mate? You owe me.” Niall announced joining his friends at the table with a yawn.

Pippa rolled her eyes. “Nothing’s going on. There was never anything between us anyways.”

“But he hasn’t been coming in for coffee in like the past week. He’s avoiding you for some reason.” The blonde boy pointed out.

“If Niall’s paying attention it has to be true. You know you can tell us Pip, we’re your friends.” Louis urged.

His teal eyes seemed to burn into her tired brown ones and he hadn’t touched his coffee. It was obvious that Louis cared a lot about her and Pippa secretly wished Harry felt the same way, even if it was just platonic.

Pippa sighed. “If you want to know so badly, then fine. I invited him into my flat for tea and he kind of kissed me.”

Louis raised an eyebrow and Niall smirked.

“Kind of kissed you? Either he kissed you or he didn’t.” Louis pressed.

“I’m just curious to know what happened after the kiss.” Niall instigated.

She sighed yet again whilst shrugging sloppily.

“He ran away from me.”

The silence in the room was thick and Pippa couldn’t help but feel cursed with embarrassment in the company of her male friends learning about her tragic love life.

Louis sighed. “Do you like him, Pip?”

Pippa smiled slowly.

“Very much, Lou.”

“I can’t speak for him. Maybe he feels the same way but he’s obviously got some underlying issues he needs to deal with. It’s up to him, Pip. It’s not healthy for you to worry about it.” Louis replied

.
Pippa frowned softly and eyed the analog clock on the wall.

“I’m going to unlock the cash register.” she announced as if the discussion had never happened.

“Screw him Pip, you’ve got us.” Niall shouted as he watched her disappear to the front counter.

He and Louis both expected Pippa to spin around, laugh it off and agree with them but she was gone. Hopefully her generally cheery disposition was still there.

The day dragged on with Pippa conducting business with faux chipper. Niall and Louis had tried everything possible to keep her in a good mood and Pippa tired her hardest to stay professional and focused. It was hard. Her was mind a whirlpool of thoughts of him and feelings she couldn’t quite describe. She was relieved when her shift ended and hastily gathered her books not even bothering to say goodbye to her friends.

Pippa forced a smile as she made her way to catch her bus. She couldn’t wait to get to her class. To write of her frustrations, ridding them from her body and toss it in the trash before going home. That was all she needed. It’d be over. She could get over it. The world had to keep spinning and life had to go on.

She froze upon seeing a familiar figure sitting at the bus stop. She knew his physique anywhere. He kept his head down focusing on the cracked pavement and his worn leather boots. His journal sat beside him and his curls were disheveled under his beanie. Pippa couldn’t help the tingling feeling that was rushing though her body. It happened every time she was around him and right now she cursed those damned butterflies.

“Can I sit here?” she asked politely.

His green eyes met hers upon picking his head up and his eyebrows furrowed in the manner she’d grown to love.

“Yeah.” he replied plainly.

Pippa felt a pang of pain in her chest as she made herself comfortable on the bench making sure to keep a decent amount of distance between them. She stared out into London’s streets neither one of them said a word and the silence was painful. They’d gone from knowing weird facts about each other to being perfect strangers again.

“Harry, talk to me.” Pippa broke the silence.

“I can’t.” he replied in his previous tone not even bothering to look at her and confusing Pippa greatly.

She scoffed. “You make no sense right now.”

“I can’t talk to you. We can’t talk anymore. This has to end.”

Pippa could feel the anger rising in her chest and adrenalin running though her veins as she turned to him.

“Jesus, Harry! It was one kiss. You act like we slept together.”

Harry ran a hand across his face with a deep almost growling sigh.

“Fuck, Pippa! You’re messing with my mind. I-I don’t need this right now. I can’t do this anymore!”

Pippa eyebrows furrowed violently.

“I don’t understand! I thought we were friends. One kiss shouldn’t make or break our friendship!”

It was nearly as if Harry was shooting daggers though her soul as his green met hers. They were blood shot and glossy and laced with so many emotions neither Harry nor Pippa could identify.

“You’re not good for me, Pippa. You’re too positive! You keep trying to make me happy but the truth is I don’t want to be happy!” Harry spat surprising both Pippa and himself.

“I never tried to force you to be happy, Harry. I told you! It’s a choice.” she urged.

“It doesn’t matter."

Pippa was begging to feel dizzy and her eyes narrowed into little slits.

"Do you like me? Do you care about me?” she demanded.

Harry’s eyebrows scrunched furiously.

“You’re crazy!”

“You didn’t answer my question, Harry! Do you care about me?”

Pippa could feel the lump forming in her throat and the tears stinging in her eyes but she promised herself she wouldn’t cry. At least not in front of him.

Harry scoffed. “No. There’s another girl. I care about her. She’s far better than you.”

She bit her lip to keep it from trembling.

“How so?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“She makes me feel miserable. Miserable in all the right ways.”

With that he was gone, hastily jogging away. Pippa didn’t really see him. He was all a blur in her vision of tears. She swallowed the lump in her throat, somehow trying to swallow the bitter feeling in her chest.

Close your eyes. Count to ten. Take a deep breath. It will all be okay.

But she couldn’t quite convince herself. It wasn’t okay and it hurt. She wanted him. She wanted him badly. But often times the things you want the most are so unreachable.

Pippa whipped the tears that trickled down her cheeks and spotted a flash of leather from the corner of her eye. He’d left his journal again and this time he’d probably be gone from her life for good. She stared at it, her gaze seemed to burn holes through it. Never in her life had she been so angry at an inanimate object. It sat there, mocking her. She was convinced it was the root of her problems. The reason he’d pushed her away. She knew how sacred it was to him and she wanted to rip every page out and throw them in the Thames. The flames of her anger seemed to suddenly subside, changing into curiosity. She couldn’t have him but maybe, just maybe she could have a glimpse into his mind. Maybe she’d finally get to see him for who he really was.

When her bus finally arrived Pippa gathered her things and snatched up the journal clutching it close to her chest. She found a nice window seat, her fingers danced along the worn pages and she began to read.

******

When I was a kid I often argued with my school mates about wether or not ghost existed. I always argued no but they swore they were real. Well now I know they’re right. Ghost are real. They’re not these little masses of floating sheets that fly around abandoned castles. They’re real people and they will haunt you. They’ll keep you awake at night, thinking about them. They’ll fill your dreams with visions of them. They’re everywhere and you can’t escape them. They’re the people you used to know, they people you used to love and the people you can’t quite forget.

“I’m so worried about him, mum. He’s even worse these days. I’ve got a feeling he’s been flushing is meds down the toilet.”

Harry could hear his sisters’s voice, soft and rushed. He knew she thought she was being discreet but he’d heard nearly every word.

“No. I promise I won’t tell him you’ve been paying his bills.”

He sat in the dark of of his room the scrap of paper he’d been writing on,illuminated by the small lap on his night stand. He crumpled the paper into a little ball and tossed it in the waste bin along with other scraps of writing from the days before. He didn’t have a journal anymore but his desire to write was still there. It was the only thing that seemed to keep him calm.

“I promise I can handle it, Mum. I’ll take care of him.”

She talked about as him if he wasn’t there. And maybe he wasn’t there. Mentally at least. But he liked the feeling. At least he knew he was still breathing. Harry ran a hand through his consistently messy hair and he could feel the anger building up in his chest as swung open his room door causing it to creek loudly and startling his sister who was comfortably splayed out on the sofa, cell phone pressed to her ear.

“I’ll have to call you back later, Mum. I’ll send your love to Harry. Yeah. Love you, bye.”

Harry glared at his sister whilst padding into the kitchen in search of food.

“Finally awake?” she grinned.

“For fuck’s sake Gemma, quit telling Mum that I’m sick!” he shouted angrily.

Gemma sighed and followed her brother into the kitchen.

“I never told her that, H!” She held her hands up in surrender as her brother’s gaze only seemed to intensify.

“Sure didn’t sound like it to me.” Harry urged.

She sighed. “You really think I’d tell Mum that? She’s already worried enough about you as it is. She wants you to move back home.”

Harry growled angrily as he snatched an apple from the glass bowl on the counter top.

“Would you two stop treating me like some freak! I’m not crazy!”

Gemma sighed crossing her arms across her chest. “But you’re not well, Harry.”

He slumped over to the refrigerator pausing before opening it and staring down at his bare feet. He looked tired and thin, nearly cadaverous and Gemma was sure she’d never seen her brother looks so miserable before. It broke her heart.

“I know.” His voice was low and faint. Nearly a whisper.

“Bub, you’re never gonna get better if you don’t start taking your meds and finding some closure. You have to let her go, Harry. It’s the only way you’ll heal.”

She sighed, reaching out to place a hand on his bare shoulder. Gemma could feel her brother’s body stiffen.

“What the fuck do you mean find closure?! You want me to just throw everything we had away and forget about her, huh? It’s that fucking easy, huh?” His green eyes were blood shot and watery and she could tell he was breaking.

“Harry, you’ll never fully get over her. But this is draining you. You can’t spend the rest of your live dwelling on this. You have to move on.” Gemma urged softly.

Harry tugged at his bottom lip and pulled at his hair.

“I almost did. I almost did. She was beautiful. She was lovely. She made me feel things I hadn’t felt since Autumn and I just- I was afraid. I pushed her away. I- just, I just don’t wanna forget her.”

Harry had always been a pretty sentimental person but Gemma could only recall a handful of moments were she’d seen her baby brother cry. When he was six and broke his wrist learning how to skateboard, fifteen when he’d had his first real heart break, at nineteen a year prior when he was finally forced to pull the plug and now a full grown man sobbing violently in the middle of her kitchen.

“C'mere, bub.” Gemma reached out, wrapping her arms around his torso and sighing upon feeling his body relax against hers.

“She made me feel happy, sometimes.” he choked.

His sister sighed and stroked his hair.

“Then Auttie would approve. She’d want you to be happy.”

****

Pippa tortured herself in the weeks that passed. But it was sweet torture. She kept the notebook close to her at all times, reading it when business was slow in the cafe, when she had breaks in between classes, or just for fun when she moped around her flat with nothing to do. His writings were beautiful and heartfelt. She could feel his pain and understand his feelings but what hurt the most of all was the obvious love he had for her. He wrote about her often, the most beautiful things. Sometimes he seemed angry at her or about her but his love and adoration never faultered.

She found pictures, too. She was stunning. Breathtaking in every way, far better looking than she.

Pippa didn’t know much about her. She didn’t know her name or where she was from. She didn’t know if she was dead or alive but what she did know is that is was obvious that Harry was in love with her. She was important to him and Pippa was just a stupid girl who smiled too much. She couldn’t compete.

“You better not be eating those scones, Niall!!” Louis shouted as he turned on the expresso machine.

“I’m not I promise!!” Niall replied from the break room.

Pippa made her way to the front counter whilst adjusting her apron with the leather journal tucked under her arm. She slammed it down on the counter with a heavy sigh.

“Take this thing away from me, Lou.” she groaned pulling up a stool to sit on.

Louis rolled his eyes as he turned to face his friend.

“I told you to stop reading that shit."

Pippa sighed. "I know but I don’t know what to do with it. ”

He shrugged. “Throw it away or just stop reading it.”

“I’ll never understand why the good people finish last.” She declared breathily as she stared at the journal on the counter.

“Story of my life, Pip. It’s a mystery.”

Pippa sighed.

“This is stupid. I’m stupid.” She blurted and Louis sighed.

“Pip, don’t waste your time on this. Are you really gonna let some mentally unstable jerk and his dead if not totally non-existent girlfriend ruin your life?”

“He’s a good person, Louis. He just has things to work through. If he happens to stop by, would you give this to him, please?” Pippa asked not willing to continue the conversation.

Louis smiled sadly. "Sure thing, Pip.”

It was Saturday. Business was lively and Pippa had no classes to attend. It had rained a little but the weather wasn’t totally nasty and she decided to take a walk, maybe through the city or to a park. She’d moped for far too long and Louis was right. She wouldn’t let Harry steal her joy. She’d steal it back.

Her shift ended in the early afternoon and she sighed happily as she yanked off her apron.

“Do you want to do something later?’ Louis asked as he finished wiping down the counter, he too being finished with work for the day.

Pippa smiled. "I kind of want to spend a little to myself if that’s okay. I’m going to be alright. I promise.”

Louis grinned, happy to see his friend smiling again.

“You will be, love.”

Pippa left the cafe feeling a twinge of optimism. She smiled watching the cars go by and tourist rush about. Things would still look up and she hoped that maybe things would look up for Harry too and he would get the help he needed. His well being and happiness was ultimately important to her even if it wasn’t with her.

She’d passed the cafe for several blocks when a familiar tune flooded through her ears. She smiled softly and sadly remembering the way his fingers moved across the strings and how frustrated she’d been when she couldn’t get in quite right herself. It was a fleeting yet warm memory.

“Pippa!"

It’d been so long since she’d heard his voice and it sounded like honey to her ears. She froze in the middle of the street, her gaze stuck on him as he rushed toward her. His green eyes locked with hers, his face flushed and hair awry as he stopped in front of her.

"Harry. ” she breathed.

He ran a hand through his hair.

“Pippa, I-”

“I believe this is yours. You left it, again.” she spoke coldly retrieving the leather journal from her bag. She couldn’t find it in her heart to throw it away.

Harry slowly took the leather book from her hands, cradling it to his chest.

“I didn’t mean anything I said. I’m sorry.” His voice was low and soft.

Pippa smiled softly folding her arms over her chest.

“It’s alright, Harry. I’m moving on.” she shrugged.

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed and he tugged at his bottom lip.

“You read it, yeah?”

She sighed. “Yeah, I did. You need help, Harry. I really hope you get it."

Pippa turned on her heel, ready to walk away, ready to turn a new page. He caught hold of her arm.

"Pippa, I care about you. I really do."

They were the words she’d been waiting to hear but they didn’t sound the way she’d imagined them.

"I don’t know, Harry.I don’t want to be second fiddle. I’ll never be her. I don’t-”

“You’re not her. You can never be her but I don’t want her. I want you.” The gleam in his eyes seemed sincere but Pippa couldn’t be sure.

“Harry, I just-”

He took the journal and opened it from it’s center. Scraps of paper and a polaroid or two sent flying in the wind. He took a page, tore it and watched the paper fly in street. Then another and another. Pippa watched in silence and shock, tears sting the corner of her eyes. It was a freeing moment for Harry, nearly soul cleansing.

“I want to start over. I want to be happy. She’s always going to be my first love and it’s not going to be easy. I want to start a new chapter but I need your help writing it."

Pippa stared at the torn pages, the scraps of paper now lying in the street. He’d stripped himself bare. All for her. Only for her.

"When can we start?”