From The Dining Table [H.S]

I Miss Her

A/N: You can click on the images at the beginning of each chapter to see them fully! x
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Harry's POV:

It's been 2 weeks since I've seen Primrose. I've had this letter in my bag ever since we left Jamaica. I keep debating to myself whether to post it.

Since we've been back in England, I've done everything I can to take my mind off her: drugs, alcohol, music, cooking, running, meditation. But none of it works. Every time I blink, I see her beautiful blue eyes beaming at me. Every time I sleep, I dream of her being next to me. Every time I see a shadow, I fill with this excitement that it's her. But it never is.

The albums coming along nicely - I wrote 6 songs in Jamaica, but still need to add a few more. These last few songs just aren't coming to me very easily. Call it a writers block. I've always loved expressing emotion through song, like it's a piece of art work only I understand. Obviously, everyone likes to make assumptions as to who or what songs are about, but nobody truly knows. A song is like a constant reminder of all the emotions you felt during that time period.

If a song were written about you, you know instantly - I knew immediately when I heard Style by Taylor Swift. In some ways, it's a huge compliment to have a song written about you; knowing you've had that much of an impact on someone. However, if the song has negative connotations, it gives you this immediate snap-back to reality. It's not necessarily a bad feeling, but it definitely isn't a nice one.

I'd spent the last 2 weeks home in London, resetting my body clock from all the jet lag. As much as I love writing with the band, it's refreshing to have time to myself, to gather all my thoughts. I often went to write in this small coffee shop down the road from my house. It was a quaint little place decorated with plants and dark woods and retro coloured cushions.

I had plans to go there today: to try and write some more lyrics. But nothing's been motivating me anymore. So, I decided to call an old friend and ask him to meet me.

'Hello? Louis - Hi!... yeah I'm good Thankyou what about yourself?... are you in London right now?... you are?!... want to meet for coffee, at the place down the road from me?... great, see you in 10.'

Running down the stairs, I fumbled to put my jacket on as excitement overwhelmed me. I haven't seen Louis since his performance on the X factor for his mum - and even then we didn't properly speak. A hug and a short convo backstage was all we had; nothing like the deep chat we knew we both needed. I bent down to pick up my shoes, shoving my feet into them as I searched for my key. Locking the door behind me, I walked quickly to my Range Rover.

*slam* the sound of the car door shutting shocked me slightly as I reached over my shoulder and took my seatbelt, clipping it in by my leg. Starting the car, I looked up at myself in the mirror, making sure I looked presentable. The radio began booming out the speakers as Roman Kemp joked with the guest he had on. Reversing out my drive, I made my way to the cafe.

Upon arrival, the familiar ringing of the bell at the door welcomed me into the cozy environment. The smell of freshly brewed coffee melted at my nostrils as I eyed the cakes displayed neatly on the counter. My boots clicked clearly at the floor beneath as I made my way to my regular seat - a booth in the back right corner. I sat: placing my arms on the table and interlocking my fingers.

"Harry!" A friendly voice called, as a waitress neared my table. It was Darcy! "So lovely to see you again!" She exclaimed while pulling me in for a tight hug. Darcy and I have been friends since I first started coming here. I complimented her outfit, and she answered with a coily joke. She often wore 1960's inspired outfits: flares, big sunglasses, long skirts, flower crowns and layered necklaces. Darcy was very shy when I met her, she told me my confidence intimidated her, but after getting to know her we became very good friends.