Harry’s POV
I have no idea what just happened. All of the guys are looking awkwardly away from me except for Louis who just sighs and shakes his head. This is getting really awkward.

“Why don’t we talk about something else?” I suggest. “What do you all do for a living?”

They all laugh for a second. What the heck? Who laughs about what their job is? I know I wouldn’t.

“Funny story there. You see, we,” Louis gestured to all of us, even me, “are all in a boy band known as One Direction.”

Now it was my turn to laugh. This must be a joke. Me in a boy band? Can I even sing? I stop laughing when I notice that they’re all serious.

“You’re joking right? A boy band?”

They all just shake their heads. I look at them in disbelief. I am in a boy band. We’re probably not even that popular.

“Yes, you’re in a boy band. One Direction is one of the top boy bands in the world. We have two albums currently and you Mr. Styles are the guy that every girl loves,” Niall said.

“Okay… But if every girl loves me, what about the girl that was here just a minute ago?”

“She’s your… uh… you know what, who wants pizza?” Liam casually made up an excuse. The other boys went along with it, and he went to order pizza.

“Guys, if I want to regain my memories, I need to know who she is. You can tell me, right?”

“She’s your girlfriend,” Zayn blurted out. Girlfriend? Uh-oh. This can’t be good. I don’t remember my girlfriend. She probably hates me.

“Oh…”

“Well, she may not be in the mood, but we can dig up some photos of you and her. She keeps some pictures from her entire life in a shoebox in the back of her closet. There should be some of you two in there.”

“Yeah, sure.”

As we were looking through even more photos than I probably ever have in my life, I saw a side of me that I don’t think I’ll ever remember. I looked so happy, and her face reciprocated mine in every picture. The guys couldn’t explain every photo to me, but it was still great to know that there are people who care.

When we were done going through the pictures, I gave the shoebox back to Louis who gets up to put it away. We all decided to get to our respective flats and get to bed. I said good night to everyone and had Louis lead me to our flat only three doors down.

Harmony’s POV
When Zayn got home, I was lying on his couch watching Finding Nemo. I was already crying as it brought up so many memories, memories I wish I could give to Harry but can’t. I almost wish that Harry were just like Dory. All he would have is short-term memory loss; he would still know me.

“Har, you okay?” Zayn kneeled down in front of me.

“I would say yes, but I would be lying, so I’m gonna go with no.”

“Look, Harmony. We can’t do anything to help Harry, but wait for him to heal on his own. Just try to make an effort to help. It doesn’t hurt to try.”

“I’ll do my best. It’s just hard, Zayn. I haven’t a clue how I’m supposed to help him, and I leave the day after tomorrow. What do I do Zayn?”

“I don’t know, but for now you should get some sleep. You look like you’re about to pass out. We’ll fix your door while your gone. It’s leaning against the frame for now.”

“Thanks. Goodnight Zayn,” I said.

Harry’s POV
It felt weird not to wake up in the hospital. The room is darker and less crowded with equipment. I get up and go to the bathroom connected to my room and shower. This is so much better than the way of showering at the hospital. I don’t want to wake Louis up, so I head out of the flat to take a walk and take in London.

Just as I turn from shutting my door, I bump into someone. I look up and meet a sad pair of brown eyes. My girlfriend? What should I say?

“Um… hi,” she says.

“Hi,” I reply with a shy smile.

“Would you like to go for a walk with me?” she asks nervously.

“Sure.” I follow her out of the building. Before we get out, she takes my hand in hers and flashes me a small smile. When the front doors open, a million lights cloud my vision. Paparazzi. I’m not too stupid to know what the paparazzi are.

We break loose from the small crowd and start walking down the streets of London. Now is the time to try to make things better, right? She’s my girlfriend, and I may not remember her, but she deserves not to be so broken. I can just tell that she is. She leads me into a Starbucks.

“We’ll have a double chocolaty chip and one mango and passion fruit ice blend,” she orders. She hands the cashier the money and we go to sit down. We don’t talk until she gets up to grab our drinks that are called. “Don’t worry; it’s your favorite,” she says and hands me the mango one.

“I know,” I blurt out, “about us. I’m really sorry that I can’t remember you.”

“It’s not your fault,” she looks away from me.

“Maybe we could try to sort of re- get to know each other?”

She looked up and smiled at me. “I would love that.”

“So, tell me, how did we meet?”