Big Brother's voice sounded through the house, reminding him that it was now time to leave. It was then, after one week, that Harry realised how much fun he'd been having living under the Big Brother roof, how adamantly he'd missed his friends. It seemed that Harry Styles hadn't quite been around them enough. Sure, he'd spent close to everyday with his band mates but it often felt like they hadn't had all that much time together. It was work, work, work, the thing that got Harry so sick in the first place. Performing, writing, recording, press, cameras, the whole world in his face with a million and one questions he couldn't begin to find the answers to. And then it was repeat, and he was sure that was why there was such tension between the band, why Zayn had left in the first place, why Harry's mind had become a battlefield of high and low. Too much work until they were thrown into this house together and suddenly responsibility had been taken away from them and they were presented with this house full of people they knew, people they didn't. Harry had felt a weight lift off his shoulders, and maybe that was why it had taken so long for him to unattach himself from Louis' neck, his arms still wrapped tightly around his neck by the fourth time Big Brother asked him to enter the diary room. He forced himself to smile, goofy and grinning as he opened up the door and sent a wave back toward the rest of them in the house, a gentle smile to Louis, and then he was gone.
Harry knew that once he left this house, that weight would land heavy on his shoulders again.
Sat in the diary room, his eyes met the camera placed directly in front of him, Harry swallowed quickly wiped the bleariness from his eyes with one rough movement of his large left hand. Suddenly he was in this room and his friends were a world away, maybe missing him already, maybe totally unmoved by the lack of his presence. "Hello Harry." The usual voice spoke, the unemotional female representative of Big Brother. "How do you feel about being evicted from the Big Brother house?" How did he feel? Like shit, if he was honest. He had hoped to last at least a little bit more than a week, that his fans might keep him safe among the rest of them, but here he sat with his bags at his feet and the world waiting for him outside. "Do we have to do this? Can't I just go now?" A pause. "Big Brother would like to know how you feel, Harry."
He sighed, ran a hand through his shoulder length curls. Harry could be an emotional person -- he was not afraid of allowing himself to feel, that being clear in all the times he'd cried in public for the whole world to see, or shared his love with the rest of the world. His fans said he had a big heart but he was really just overemotional, and the bipolar didn't help things at all. "Feelin' alright." He said quietly, leaning back in the seat and lacing his fingers over his stomach. "I'll miss my friends, everyone I met in there. Someone had to go though, right?" He shrugged, sniffed and looked away from the camera for a moment.
"Who will you miss the most, Harry?"
He supposed it was obvious. His goodbyes had gone smoothly, Harry being passed around and hugging each member of the house in his long arms, a smooth smile and a goodbye on his lips. More personal farewells to his band mates, and then he was met with Louis, and everything had fallen apart for Harry. He would leave and Louis would stay, and god with a personality like his, he was bound to go the whole way through the show without a hitch. He had clung to him and something had become both clear and confused all at once. "Louis." He said quietly, looking up at the camera again. "He's my best friend."
There was silence in the diary room for a moment, and Harry was sure it was time for him to go, preparing himself to pick up his bags and return to the outside world. "Harry, to your right is a door. Outside that door, you may turn left and head up the stairs to exit the Big Brother house. You will be met with a crowd and a presenter who will interview you live. Once you finish, you will be escorted away from the premises and taken to a nearby hotel." Harry nodded, chewing on absently on his pink lower lip. "But you have a choice, Harry. Should you turn right and follow the corridor to a separate door, you will be asked to complete a task chosen personally by Big Brother. Once the task is completed, you will be allowed to re-enter the Big Brother house. You have one minute to make your choice."
Harry's mouth had fallen open long ago, his face forming a frown, eyes darting about the room as though the blank walls might offer him some kind of an explanation. But no. They were giving him a choice - he could leave or stay, and honestly this isolation, this illusion of privacy was so much better than what waited for him outside with their flashing lights and ever reaching hands. He had convinced himself upon coming in here that this would make everything better, that the bipolar would slip away as easily as it had found him, that the insomnia would free his mind and allow him to finally sleep again. That friendships would repair themselves, and Harry hadn't been given enough time to see all of this through. He nodded, his time was up. He'd made his decision.
"Harry, leave your bags in the diary room and please exit through the door to your right and reveal your decision."
Harry stood, saluted the camera with a broad grin and made his way out the door. He only hesitated for a moment before turning right, his back to the famous Big Brother stairs and the double doors displaying the iconic massive eye. Instead, he entered through a plain white door that blended in with the rest of the walls, finding himself in a room completely bare save a table, a chair, an iPad, and a TV screen attached to the wall. Harry sat and awaited his instructions.
"Congratulations Harry, you have opted to return to the Big Brother house. You will have to complete a task, and once you're finished, you may rejoin your housemates. What Big Brother asks is that you use the iPad in front of you to make playlists for five of your housemates. On the TV screen above you, you may keep an eye on what the celebrities are saying and doing. Please begin."
Confused, Harry couldn't help but frown before shrugging and flipping the iPad onto power, new found enthusiasm now that he knew he could go back into the house after this. "I don't see why you want me to do this," He mumbled as Spotify opened and he got to work. "Big Brother simply wants to understand your relationships with your housemates a little bit better." Was the response he received, and Harry nodded his head slowly. "Fair enough." He mused, scratching his head and poking about at the iPad. He wanted it to be perfect, so he to the time to write everything out, burying himself in the task. "Will they see this?" He asked after a while, still staring at the iPad and choosing different songs from the app. Silence again, Harry waiting for a response. "Big Brother only wishes to understand your relationship with your housemates." The voice repeated. "You can feel free to speak your mind."
It began with Zayn. Zayn who he could dedicate a million songs to. He was so close to that boy, he'd always been close to him, and being without him lately had been difficult, perhaps even more difficult had been seeing him again in this house and feel the tension that had grown and grown like a void between them since Zayn announced to the band that he was leaving. Playlist one completed, he smiled as it saved. "Can you read out your first playlist to us please, Harry? Tell us about why you chose them?" Big Brother asked, and Harry nodded. "Misguided Ghosts by Paramore - 'cause that's what he is, isn't he? Misguided. Running away. I'd run away if I could too so I don't blame him. The lyrics just struck me... I'm going away for a while/ but I'll be back/ don't try to follow me. Yeah. Struck me." He hazarded a glance up at the screen and saw a teary eyed Zayn before his eyes fell back to the iPad again. "Brother, by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. 'Cause he's my brother, and he's gone. Carry On, by Fun. Zayn's a strong guy, I know he can 'carry on', believe in him. I want him to carry on -- I don't care if he's going solo or whatever, I just care about him being alright and going on and being happy. Things are hard for him now, I know he can do it." He shrugged, the screen once more displaying Zayn, tired and bleary eyed. "You Can Go Your Own Way, by Fleetwood Mac..." Harry sniffed for a moment, and he realised then how much it had hit him that Zayn had left them, that he'd moved on and it was all because this life had been too much. Harry understood it, all four of them had understood it and Zayn still chose to leave. Wiping his eyes again of the tears that had formed there, he continued. "Speaks for itself, I guess. He's gone, and I need him to know that I'm okay with that, and no matter what he does from now on, I'll always love him, always support him no matter what. Finally, I chose Only The Young, by Brandon Flowers. The lyrics speak for themselves: Have yourself another dream tonight/ Maybe we can start again. Well fuck, Big Brother. That was harder than I thought it'd be."
"Keep going, Harry."
The next was Taylor. She'd been a real girlfriend, not some ploy by his management to clear things up when he acted a little bit too 'camp', when his sexuality had been called into question in the first place. Taylor had been good for him, good to him, and the breakup hadn't exactly been smooth sailing. "Alright. Ah, this one is for Taylor. I began with Cool, by Gwen Stefani. See, since coming in here, I realise we are cool, we're fine really. We might even be friends again. She's an amazing person... maybe we met at the wrong time. Who knows? I'm just happy to know that the tension between us is beginning to die down, and I think this song describes everything perfectly." He smiled gently, his budding friendship with Taylor bringing a lot of warmth to the boy. "Prize Fighter, by The Killers. I know this is more or less a love song, but really and truly, I believe that Taylor Swift is an amazing, strong, tough as nails person. She can do absolutely anything and I've always believed that. The 'pièce de résistance' as the song says." He chuckled, dimples showing, emotions still running high, because apparently choosing songs about your friends was an emotionally taxing thing.
"Trouble, by Coldplay. Because like she said, she knew I was trouble. And like the song says, I caused her some trouble in that relationship, I was young and idiotic and really, really I never meant to do her any harm," Harry swallowed, closed his eyes for a moment. "I was stupid. A stupid teenager. I'm sorry for that." Nodding, he moved on. "White Sky, by Vampire Weekend. Like a lot of Vampire Weekend songs, not a lot of the lyrics actually make sense, but when I listen to this song I feel so, so happy, so uplifted. This is the kind of song that played in my head when I was with Taylor, this is how she made me feel, this crazy happy song." Smiling, he glanced down at the final song on his list and laughed, looking up at the screen to watch Taylor in whatever she was doing. "I couldn't leave Style off the list now, could I? Nah, I couldn't. Not gonna lie, I love this song. Taylor has so much talent, so much so that she can write a song about her ex and he'll still sing it in the shower. It's amazing, it's catchy, it's all totally true. It's us."
"Next is Liam. Liam, Liam, Liam. He's the solid foundation in One Direction, the one that keeps everything held together. We'd fall apart without that guy, especially over the last few months." Harry smiled, always grateful to have that man in his life. "I began with Everything Will Be Alright, by The Killers. This song calms me down, and Liam always sends me the exact same message -- that everything will be alright, everything will be fine. Liam is safety. Next, Heroes, by David Bowie. Liam Payne is my hero, straight up. He makes me feel like I can do anything, y'know? So does this song." He chuckled, head shaking. "If he ever heard me saying this I'd never hear the end of it. Anyway, next I picked Africa, by Toto. I dunno, I'm so devoted to Liam, he's such an amazing friend, and we dance to this song a fair but... this song makes me very happy, and Liam elicits the same smile from me. Team, by Lorde. Liam always makes you feel like you're a part of a team, or like he's always on your team. I'm praising too much. Honestly." Harry rolled his eyes but grinned to himself as he slid his fingers further along the playlist.
"Now. Niall Horan. The little ray of sunshine in my life. I chose some songs that I immediately think of when I think of Niall, songs that just make me want to dance. First -- Pork and Beans by Weezer. Niall just doens't give a fuck, he really doesn't. He lives his life on his terms and he 'ain't got a thing to prove to you'. Plus, it helps that there's food in the title." Smiling a little, Harry figured that Niall's playlist would be as easy as Liam's to speak about. He just adored him, there was no love lost between them, no great separation or rift, just friendship. "Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus. Not that I consider Niall a teenage dirtbag or anything, but rather that this song is fun, we covered this one too. It's a kinda carefree song, the kinda song Niall listens to. It just draws you right into it like Niall draws you into him. Next is Escape, or, The Pina Colada song by Rupert Holmes. Another fun song, one Niall and I have often sang along to together at the tops of our lungs. We love this one. Loser, by Beck. I dunno, whenever I listen to this song I just picture Niall playing it and yeah, stood there with his acoustic guitar, it's just so him." Smiling fondly, Harry glanced up at Niall on the screen, not surprised to find him eating.
Finally, Harry had made it to the end of his list. To Louis. He was, without a doubt, Harry's absolute best friend, and before coming into the house, Harry hadn't exactly displayed that love for Louis. He'd been distant for a while, and it was something he really did regret. "My final playlist is for Louis. Louis Tomlinson. My best friend..." He trailed off. "Flightless Bird, American Mouth, by Iron & Wine. I just..." The words took a long time to come to him, Harry burying his face in his hands for a brief moment, head shaking. "Is there a problem, Harry?" Harry's head shook once more and he lifted it from the large hands which covered it. "No. No, sorry. I'm just getting tired." Looking up at the screen, Harry could see Louis asleep in bed. He'd been at this hours now, and judging from the footage he'd received throughout the night, Louis had worn himself out by playing football until he finally dragged himself into bed. Looking at him that way had only caused Harry himself to feel exhausted, this final playlist weighing on him. He hadn't expected this task to be so difficult. "When I was standing there with Louis, waiting until I had to leave, this thought came to my head... I found him. I have no idea what that means, honestly. Maybe after all this time I'd found my best friend again, and I thought I had to leave him." A tiny smile touched his lips before he went on. "Forrest Gump, by Frank Ocean. Because he's always 'running on my mind'. Always." Harry bit his lip, hesitant to go on. "Sparks, by Coldplay. 'Cause... I'm..." He trailed off again, looking up at the screen for a moment. "I thought I'd driven him away by not being there, y'know always being away." He spoke softly, still looking up at the screen, unable to tear his eyes away. "But I came in here and there he was. And... yeah. Sparks." Licking his lips, Harry felt something hot slide down his face, something he quickly wiped away the moment he realised it was a tear, fat and heavy beneath his eyes. Where the fuck had that come from?
"Um... next... next. Fuck, what was next?" He mumbled to himself, slightly frazzled as he went through the playlist again. "Yeah. 'Love More', by Sharon Van Etten. Louis, he just, he fills me up with... warmth. With love. But we've had our issues and that song... that song is full of love and toughness and... yeah." He could hardly keep a sentence going, he felt afraid, he felt overwhelmed, he felt like he wanted to get the fuck back into that house and curl himself up around Louis. He'd get in trouble for this, for so openly displaying affection toward the boy he'd been told to keep his distance from. But in this house, Harry felt protected from Modest, so he kept it going. He'd never felt so free to speak. When he began again, his voice was strained, as though it hurt him to speak. "Small Hands, by Keaton Henson. Louis has such small hands and... and I miss them and everything about them when I'm away. And I never tell him that. I don't know why I don't tell him that." His throat felt raw from swallowing down the lump there, the sobs that threatened to tear his throat open. "Wouldn't It Be Nice, by The Beach Boys. Just... it's a nice song." Harry closed his eyes, felt several tears drip down his cheeks and he just knew these moments were airing live, and he was crying over Louis Tomlinson, and the world was watching. "May I go, please?"
"Yes, Harry. Thank you."
