Bring It Back
prologue
january 17th, 2016
It’s raining hard the day that everything falls apart, which isn’t anything to be surprised about, really, because they’re in London, after all—it’s always raining. The date is January the seventeenth, 2016, and to the three young men gathered in a building strategically placed in the heart of London, the city almost feels like someone has pressed the pause button on it. They’re trapped in their own bubble of some sort, along with their PR team, and the tension in the room is so thick that not even a knife can cut through it. Because somebody is missing.
“Where the hell is Harry?”
The not so sudden outburst comes from Eliza Coleman, the band’s publicist. A permanent scowl has been etched into her skin, held into place by her faded frown lines and clenched jaw line. It isn’t often that she loses control of her emotions like this, but right now, she’s furious, and she certainly believes that she has the right to be. Eliza is used to scandals and controversies spinning around the careers of the four boys that she is in charge of; she’s seen it all, from cheating, to drug videos, to alleged sex tapes. But this is something entirely different all together, because it is something that she’s never once expected. And Eliza does not like to be surprised. They have ten minutes to spare before the band is supposed to go out for a highly publicized interview, and Harry Styles is nowhere to be found.
Nobody answers her, and so she tries again. There’s a certain set of character traits needed for a publicist job, determined being one of them, and that’s something that Eliza has been her entire life. “This is not the time for him to be playing like this!” she yells, her voice bouncing off of the walls and filling in the gaps that the band’s silence have left for her. “Where the hell is he?”
Once again, the band refuses to answer her, which only fuels her anger. Truth be told, they are just as clueless about Harry’s whereabouts as she is. Yet even if they weren’t, they would never utter a word to her. Along with the unspoken hatred the four men all shared towards her, there was also an agreement that they held, one that implicitly stated that they were never to betray each other for her. Not once had either of them ever went against this, and they weren’t planning to start today.
“Goddamnit, boys, just tell me!” Eliza shrieks. This time, her voice is the loudest that it has been so far, and in a fit of rage, she slams her still-full glass of wine onto the floor. A pile of shattered glass immediately forms around her acting almost like a barrier, but she only acknowledges it for a second as she haughtily motions for someone to come and clean it up. Then, she reverts her attention back to the three men casually perched on the couch in front of her. She quickly focuses her attention on Niall—he’s usually the first one to crack when it comes to situations like these. But Harry is his best friend in the group, maybe even in the whole world; even though Niall has no idea where he is, he knows his bandmate well enough to know that he wouldn’t want him giving any information to Eliza. And so, he stays quiet.
Not so coincidentally, Louis is the first one to speak up. He’s never been skilled at keeping his mouth shut, and his publicist knows this well. “Have you tried calling him?” he asks her. It takes a moment for Eliza to realize that he’s being sarcastic—although it’s nothing unusual, at least not from Louis—and her scowl immediately grows even deeper.
“Don’t play games with me, Tomlinson,” she hisses at him, and in that moment, he thinks that she really does look like a snake. It’s no secret that Louis has always been Eliza’s least favorite. She marked Harry as her prized possession the minute that their management hired her, but he never has been too keen on her. In fact, he hates her—once again, they all do.
In response, Louis shrugs his shoulders matter of factly, an action which he knows will provoke her. Perhaps if she took a closer look, though, she would be able to notice how narrowed his light blue eyes are. “I guess we should just go on without him, then,” he says slowly, glancing up at her with an expression that is clearly daring for her to challenge him. “We can say that he’s sick or something. It worked with Zayn.”
Eliza doesn’t even flinch when she mentions Zayn’s name; it’s almost as if he never existed. Instead, she exhales loudly and the boys observe as her face turns an ugly shade of red. It’s never been her color, and that’s evident right now. “You can’t fucking go on without him, Louis!” she screeches, the vein in her forehead bulging so prominently that it looks like it might pop. “The main reason why we booked this interview was for him. They were going to ask him questions about Ria, and…shit, now the album sales will drop even more than they already have!” (Ria Rose is Harry’s model “girlfriend”, yet another one of Eliza’s schemes to make the band even bigger.) “Do you three even understand who you’re going up against?”
None of the boys look at all concerned with her seemingly rhetorical question. Instead, they just look bored. Harry’s disappeared before, it’s not as if this is anything new—if he’s treating this like all the other times, which he surely is, then he’ll be back by tomorrow morning, at the latest.
Eliza’s eyes flash angrily as she comes to the conclusion that none of them are interested in answering her question. “You spoiled, arrogant little shits,” she spits at them. “My career is on the line! Do you ever think about anyone else but you–”
She is silenced by the sound of a cell phone ringing.
It’s coming from Niall. For a couple of seconds, they are all frozen as they listen to it go off. Then, Eliza seems to remember the situation they are in, and she takes her time to glance at each of them with a look of hunger, desperation almost, in her eyes, before she murmurs quietly, “Who is it?” Her volume may have changed, but her tone has stayed the same.
“I dunno,” Niall shrugs carelessly, mimicking Louis’ previous actions. “It’s an unknown number.”
Her knuckles almost white, the grip Eliza has around her own cell phone tightens, and, with all memories of her soft voice forgotten, she quickly barks, “Answer it! And put it on speaker–this could be important.”
Niall sighs and for a second, it looks like he might protest, but then he decides to pick up the phone and then press the speaker button, just like she has asked him to. “Hello?” he says, doing his best to ignore Eliza’s heated stare.
“Is this Niall Horan?” an unfamiliar male voice speaks from the other end.
Niall hesitates for a second, unsure of whether or not he should give away his identity, for obvious reasons; but Eliza quickly snatches the phone out of his hands before he has the chance to say anything. When she speaks again, her voice is calm and polished, nothing like the way she was with the band only seconds earlier. “This is Eliza Coleman, his publicist. May I ask who this is?”
There is a pause on the other line that lasts for over a minute, and the boys watch as she opens her mouth to say something else. However, before she has the chance to, she’s interrupted by the unmistakable sound of sirens in the background. For the first time all night, Eliza looks nervous, and so do Niall, Liam, and Louis, as they exchange worried glances.
“This is Officer Ted Olson speaking. We’re going to need you to come down to the hospital as quickly as possible.” There is another pause, but this time it’s much shorter than the previous one, and finally, the man finishes, “There’s been an accident involving your client Harry.”
It’s raining hard the day that everything falls apart, which isn’t anything to be surprised about, really, because they’re in London, after all—it’s always raining. The date is January the seventeenth, 2016, and to the three young men gathered in a building strategically placed in the heart of London, the city almost feels like someone has pressed the pause button on it. They’re trapped in their own bubble of some sort, along with their PR team, and the tension in the room is so thick that not even a knife can cut through it. Because somebody is missing.
“Where the hell is Harry?”
The not so sudden outburst comes from Eliza Coleman, the band’s publicist. A permanent scowl has been etched into her skin, held into place by her faded frown lines and clenched jaw line. It isn’t often that she loses control of her emotions like this, but right now, she’s furious, and she certainly believes that she has the right to be. Eliza is used to scandals and controversies spinning around the careers of the four boys that she is in charge of; she’s seen it all, from cheating, to drug videos, to alleged sex tapes. But this is something entirely different all together, because it is something that she’s never once expected. And Eliza does not like to be surprised. They have ten minutes to spare before the band is supposed to go out for a highly publicized interview, and Harry Styles is nowhere to be found.
Nobody answers her, and so she tries again. There’s a certain set of character traits needed for a publicist job, determined being one of them, and that’s something that Eliza has been her entire life. “This is not the time for him to be playing like this!” she yells, her voice bouncing off of the walls and filling in the gaps that the band’s silence have left for her. “Where the hell is he?”
Once again, the band refuses to answer her, which only fuels her anger. Truth be told, they are just as clueless about Harry’s whereabouts as she is. Yet even if they weren’t, they would never utter a word to her. Along with the unspoken hatred the four men all shared towards her, there was also an agreement that they held, one that implicitly stated that they were never to betray each other for her. Not once had either of them ever went against this, and they weren’t planning to start today.
“Goddamnit, boys, just tell me!” Eliza shrieks. This time, her voice is the loudest that it has been so far, and in a fit of rage, she slams her still-full glass of wine onto the floor. A pile of shattered glass immediately forms around her acting almost like a barrier, but she only acknowledges it for a second as she haughtily motions for someone to come and clean it up. Then, she reverts her attention back to the three men casually perched on the couch in front of her. She quickly focuses her attention on Niall—he’s usually the first one to crack when it comes to situations like these. But Harry is his best friend in the group, maybe even in the whole world; even though Niall has no idea where he is, he knows his bandmate well enough to know that he wouldn’t want him giving any information to Eliza. And so, he stays quiet.
Not so coincidentally, Louis is the first one to speak up. He’s never been skilled at keeping his mouth shut, and his publicist knows this well. “Have you tried calling him?” he asks her. It takes a moment for Eliza to realize that he’s being sarcastic—although it’s nothing unusual, at least not from Louis—and her scowl immediately grows even deeper.
“Don’t play games with me, Tomlinson,” she hisses at him, and in that moment, he thinks that she really does look like a snake. It’s no secret that Louis has always been Eliza’s least favorite. She marked Harry as her prized possession the minute that their management hired her, but he never has been too keen on her. In fact, he hates her—once again, they all do.
In response, Louis shrugs his shoulders matter of factly, an action which he knows will provoke her. Perhaps if she took a closer look, though, she would be able to notice how narrowed his light blue eyes are. “I guess we should just go on without him, then,” he says slowly, glancing up at her with an expression that is clearly daring for her to challenge him. “We can say that he’s sick or something. It worked with Zayn.”
Eliza doesn’t even flinch when she mentions Zayn’s name; it’s almost as if he never existed. Instead, she exhales loudly and the boys observe as her face turns an ugly shade of red. It’s never been her color, and that’s evident right now. “You can’t fucking go on without him, Louis!” she screeches, the vein in her forehead bulging so prominently that it looks like it might pop. “The main reason why we booked this interview was for him. They were going to ask him questions about Ria, and…shit, now the album sales will drop even more than they already have!” (Ria Rose is Harry’s model “girlfriend”, yet another one of Eliza’s schemes to make the band even bigger.) “Do you three even understand who you’re going up against?”
None of the boys look at all concerned with her seemingly rhetorical question. Instead, they just look bored. Harry’s disappeared before, it’s not as if this is anything new—if he’s treating this like all the other times, which he surely is, then he’ll be back by tomorrow morning, at the latest.
Eliza’s eyes flash angrily as she comes to the conclusion that none of them are interested in answering her question. “You spoiled, arrogant little shits,” she spits at them. “My career is on the line! Do you ever think about anyone else but you–”
She is silenced by the sound of a cell phone ringing.
It’s coming from Niall. For a couple of seconds, they are all frozen as they listen to it go off. Then, Eliza seems to remember the situation they are in, and she takes her time to glance at each of them with a look of hunger, desperation almost, in her eyes, before she murmurs quietly, “Who is it?” Her volume may have changed, but her tone has stayed the same.
“I dunno,” Niall shrugs carelessly, mimicking Louis’ previous actions. “It’s an unknown number.”
Her knuckles almost white, the grip Eliza has around her own cell phone tightens, and, with all memories of her soft voice forgotten, she quickly barks, “Answer it! And put it on speaker–this could be important.”
Niall sighs and for a second, it looks like he might protest, but then he decides to pick up the phone and then press the speaker button, just like she has asked him to. “Hello?” he says, doing his best to ignore Eliza’s heated stare.
“Is this Niall Horan?” an unfamiliar male voice speaks from the other end.
Niall hesitates for a second, unsure of whether or not he should give away his identity, for obvious reasons; but Eliza quickly snatches the phone out of his hands before he has the chance to say anything. When she speaks again, her voice is calm and polished, nothing like the way she was with the band only seconds earlier. “This is Eliza Coleman, his publicist. May I ask who this is?”
There is a pause on the other line that lasts for over a minute, and the boys watch as she opens her mouth to say something else. However, before she has the chance to, she’s interrupted by the unmistakable sound of sirens in the background. For the first time all night, Eliza looks nervous, and so do Niall, Liam, and Louis, as they exchange worried glances.
“This is Officer Ted Olson speaking. We’re going to need you to come down to the hospital as quickly as possible.” There is another pause, but this time it’s much shorter than the previous one, and finally, the man finishes, “There’s been an accident involving your client Harry.”