Dreaming Of You // Harry Styles

I felt the world cracking open at my feet. Jeanne? There? Stunned I turned my head towards the direction he was pointing at, hoping it would be a dream or some sort of cruel joke. But it wasn’t. It was real. There she was, standing with a glass of wine between her hands, laughing at someone. She was wearing a black dress. I had never seen her wearing black before. She looked totally different, equally beautiful. My blood boiled through my veins. I hadn’t been so happy and at the same time so mad of seeing somebody in all my life.

I quickly glimpsed back at Antoine. He was pushing his chin in her direction, impelling me to go to talk to her. What should I have to do? To face her or leave? My first instinct had been to run to her and hold her, but the shock was making me stop dead at my spot. And I considered leaving, not seriously though, because I was dazed, but some part of me didn’t want to know what she was doing there, why she had deliberately lied to me.

To see her standing so near had put me under some strange form of commotion. How could I not notice her before? Like, the disposition of the industrial building was in fact sort of chaotic and the place was packed, but I knew it was mainly because I wasn’t expecting to find her there, even though I was searching for her with every fibre of my self. But I was looking elsewhere, at her pictures, and in my heart. What the hell was she doing there? She seemed so relaxed. Obviously she wasn’t aware of my presence or anybody else’s. Soon my shock transmuted to anger and I finally found the force to react.

I glared at Antoine one last time, and rushed over Jeanne. I could only hope to be able to creep up on her, and it seemed it was going to happen as she was looking away from me, with her glass near her shoulder in the way she used to hold it, and talking to some hipster girl. My heart was pounding furiously against my ribcage, skipping one out of two beats.

“What are you doing here?” I grumbled behind her back. At the sound of my voice she leapt, turning around. I didn’t know her previous expression, but now she was looking almost in panic, and paler than ever.

“Harry…” She muttered, staring into my eyes. The girl who she was talking to immediately disappeared. At least the hipsters were discreet.

“Why didn’t you tell me Antoine was the reason you were coming in the first place?” I snapped, our stare growing increasingly intense. God, I just wanted to kiss her so badly. I had been missing her like hell.

“Because you’d get this mad…” Jeanne claimed, her body notoriously tensing up. I just hoped my mum weren’t watching us.

“No, I’m this mad because you lied to me!” I exclaimed trying not to raise my voice too much.

“You would have been mad in any case–––she stated, and she was quite right, to be fair–––but I shouldn’t have lied to you,” she admitted, suddenly glancing down. One of my arguments had defeated her for the first time. I somehow rejoiced in my small victory.

“Do you still have feelings for him?” I told her, turning all shaking. Her attitude had made me drop my guard. She looked back up at me inquiringly. “Is that why you are here?”

“No, it’s not–––Jeanne said sternly. I’m here because of my work.”

“Your work…” I ironised, inwardly relieved by her words.

“Yes, my work–––she repeated. There are other works beside yours, Harry,” she pointed out with a hint of sarcasm.

“You knew you were coming all this time…” I mumbled, sounding as hurt as I was feeling, my heart breaking, my head spinning around. Jeanne frowned and knocked the remaining wine on her glass in one, leaving it on a table nearby. “Why didn’t you want to see me?”