We'll Always Have Paris - A Harry Styles Fanfiction

Gabrielle Moreau is a 19-year old French girl living in Paris, the “capital of love”. To most people she looks ordinary, but behind her high-built façade hides a girl that suffers. She tries to shut the inferior sides of her life out by doing the things she loves and letting her thoughts circle around something elsewhere—and she succeeds in focusing on the good things in life flawlessly.
When Gabrielle an early morning gets a call from One Direction’s manager, who offers her the opportunity of working with them on their summer tour in Paris, she immediately replies him with a yes. She doesn’t know it just yet, but within the next few months she will get to grow a close bond to each of the boys in the band—and particularly one of them. Before she knows it, Gabrielle has been thrown into something she this time won’t be able to pull herself out of … Will she finally start opening herself up to someone and let them in without any conditions? **Check out the trailer in the right sidebar**


43. Divulge




I watch as Harry hits his fists against the wall. His shining green eyes are reflecting Louis' face when he abruptly bows down beside the curly haired boy, grasping his arm with a tight grip.

"Harry," he hisses out between his teeth, "you need to calm down."

Harry straightens up, but doesn't seem to take notice of his words. His limbs are shaking when he still as petrified as before move towards the bathroom door, his eyelids are shut when he puts his forehead against it, palms pressed flat against the smooth wood, trying to hear something. Anything, just the smallest noise, hearing her breathing.

"Gabrielle..." he whispers and bites his lip the way I know he only does when he's worried to death about something, "I need you to let me in. I can't--"

His sentence is cut of midway when his voice breaks.

This time, Louis is a lot more soothing when he puts his arm around Harry's wide shoulders. "I think it's better if we just give her some time. Whatever this is, I'm not so sure she would want to talk about it right now."

"But she could be doing anything in there right now," Harry's shaky tone protests while he weakly gestures to the dark wooden door. "We can't just stand here and not do something!"


The voice is weak and rough, like it just got cured for a bad inflammation of the throat, but there's no doubt of whom is speaking. All of our heads snap at the door at once, feeling relived that Gabrielle finally made a sound. Quoting Harry, we never know what she might be doing in there. Her strange behavior is making our curiosity grow for each day that passes by we've spent in her company.

"Zayn," her voice weakly speaks again.

I seize the door handle, but my hand quickly slips away from it when I realize just how deadly a glare Harry's terribly hurt eyes are sending me. "Why does she want you to go in there?"

I swallow the lump in my throat and run my fingers through my hair, trying to get a fresh dose of energy. I had been wondering the very same thing as he did, after all.

"I don't know."

My fingers grasps the door's handle and a thin ray of light splitters across the floor when it slides open, its hook slowly unlocking. I leave the boys behind as I warily step inside. The door slams shut behind me, but my eyes are fastened on the girl only a few inches away from me. 

Gabrielle's already petite body frame looks fragile, considering her bended limbs beneath the brown sweatshirt and her skin that seems to be more pallid than I've ever seen it before. Dry tear marks are drawn down her pink cheeks. By the moment several more of them are forming in her dark eyes and escaping her heavy eyelids. First when I notice the wet mascara marks beneath her puffy eyes, I realize that this is the first time I have ever seen her cry.

I slip my arms around her waist and pull her close against my chest. The response of her hands fisting my T-shirt and her hand pressing against my neck for the most possible comfort makes me hug her even tighter.

I don't ask her why she doesn't want to talk to Harry. She has to have a reasonable condition. I just don't dare to question her vulnerable self about it.

Instead, I lift my hand to stroke her hair. "What happened?"

Even though her voice is sniffing, she speaks with pure security, "I promised myself not to tell you." Her breath catches in her throat. "All of you. Especially Harry."

We decrease from each other. Gabrielle's numb body slides to the floor, back pressed flat against the hard surface of the wall. I sit down beside her and move as close as I can up beside her, slowly slipping my hand into hers. Our eyes lock, her glittery ones against mine. I will soon have to restrain myself from balling my eyes out, too; I don't want to look like a wimp, but the way Gabrielle is handling this is being rough on me, affecting my most inner thoughts. She's one of my best friends, I can't just watch the miserable tears dropping from her eyes like it doesn't matter to me.

"Do you trust me?" 

For a few moments, silence is kept between us, making the air sting sharply in my lungs as knifes. Then, she speaks something I never would have expected to hear from her. "In a way I trust you more than him."

I repeat the sentence in my mind countless times. How come she suddenly has more faith in me than Harry? Harry, her boyfriend? I don't put too much thought into it, though. Somehow I understand her; It's like the two of us has grown closer over the summer than the bond she shares with the other boys.

"Then tell me."

I can see it in her eyes, how they change within the reach of a second. She knows she can tell me. She knows that I will listen, she knows that I will understand. She knows I'll keep it a secret between only the two of us.

"It's my mom," Gabrielle finally whispers in a tremble. Her head tilts sideways to gaze at me. "Zayn, she's sick. She's been sick all along."

My mouth is out of the blue drier than a desert, the hand held in hers becoming flaccid. What did she just say?

"You can't tell them," she faintly whispers in panic. The tears are streaming down her face now, wetting the fabric of my shirt as they hit the surface of it hard, like raindrops of a sudden downpour from the sky. "Promise me you won't tell them."

My arm pull her closer towards me whilst I try to breathe securely in and out. I need to stay calm. For Gabrielle's sake.

"Shh..." I carefully stroke her hair, feeling the warmth from her skin transfer to my own cool one. "I promise I won't. You can put your faith in me." She doesn't answer. Meanwhile I try to put on a smile, but it only ends up looking like the hint of a fake one. Like a terrible mask. "Gabrielle? I'm glad you told me."

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