The ride down through the clouds was tougher than any flight he'd been on, and he was double glad that Jeff insisted on him using the private jet. It was the right decision this time. He avoided flying private whenever he could. It always made Harry feel weird, like he wasn't a normal person or something.

Jeff often reminded him he was the most normal non normal person he had ever met. A normal person perhaps with a crazy abnormal life.

Commercial flights meant fans and at least one Instagram or twitter tag with his at. A geolocation attached. Then people would know where he was. 

Where he was, he felt like he was about to enter another world, another phase of his life. A much anticipated and talked about phase, but one not explained or complained about yet.  He could see the Sumida River below him and the light dawning over Tokyo. He grabbed his tattered, leather notebook and pressed it to his nose, like he always did, before opening it. 'A sunrise over its homeland, welcome to Japan.'

There had been a little rash of songs about this place as of late, though the interest in it wasn't exactly new. Harry loved this place, its sights and sounds, and the language that he could replicate in very short carefully memorized sentences. 

He loved the sentiments expressed in those untranslatable sentences.

That's why he picked it.

When he'd been near finished with the last album and realized he had a three month hole in his schedule, Jeff asked him what he wanted to do. And Harry wanted to do another movie. There was a script he'd been secretly hoarding, one he really wanted to make. He'd procured the rights to it, and a few others to cover his tracks.  It had a lot to do with his absolute love affair with this city. And his love of rom coms. And because he liked to either defy or supersede expectations.

Everybody expected him to do a rom com, so he would, and he'd do the original with a current twist.

Tokyo Holiday.

The script was fun and pithy and used the landscape and culture and language he'd found so entrancing. He'd even made a solo trip once he'd read the screenplay, to visit some of the places and see a friend. He fell in love here. With the city. It would be easy, what he had to portray. He could easily imagine it. That was, he could imagine falling in love there.
He wanted to fall in love, in Tokyo. On screen at least.

It was the one he wanted to make, and since Jeff liked to exceed his expectations, they were doing a condensed shooting schedule. Jeff had gotten him just about everything he wanted.

Including Ada Scott.

He'd been enamored of her work for years, and he'd met her father, Garner Scott, many many times. He was a close friend of Irving's, and had been an influential producer and maestro in the music industry for so long, it was more accidental than anything else that Harry had never directly worked with him.

Ada was the mystery though, he'd never met her anywhere in LA or New York or London.

He thought he'd heard she went to school for some time in England. He was fairly certain she went to the Sorbonne for University. Ok, he was totally certain, he had spent a lot of time researching her.

Ever since her little movie cum critical darling, Wildflower, had taken up permanent residence in his mind and inspiration bank.  It wasn't a love story, not really, so it was weird he wanted her to direct his rom com. And he wanted her at the helm so bad he had insisted and said he wasn't doing it, even after they had gone through all the set up motions and contracts pending, unless she was the director.

It was the way she framed the sexual moments in 'Wildflower', a coming of rage story about the daughter of absent parents who struggles with addiction, to substances and love.

The sex scenes were just part of the landscape, an aspect of the lead character's life, not the focus of the story. Some of the set ups were unromantic at best. Ainsley, the lead character, was flippant, and occasionally predatory in her search for affection.

But the love scenes, sex scenes, were so beautifully framed and imperfect, sexy in their raw realness. They lacked the air brush of Hollywood and the filter of instagram. There was nothing perfect about them, but the emotion was real and moving. Even the negative emotions.

And they were from the female gaze. Which was getting more common. However, Wildflower's female gaze was imperfect, skewed, and flawed.  That was not so common. He wanted to bring that to the Tokyo Holiday script, some aspects of the story needed grit.

The plot of the movie was a young royal sent on his first solo trip. Eyes of the world on him and a laundry list of rules about his behavior. He'd be in a city, Henry Stuart,  the royal was named, that he harbored a fascination with, and no opportunity or chance to see a thing.

All of his sight seeing would be carefully guarded and heavily photographed. And official. Henry hated official.

Basically it was familiar territory for Harry.

The flip side of the movie, was the translator assigned to Henry.

Akio was a gatekeeper. The translator gig gave him the ability to exercise that. It was also a means to an end for him, the translation was so that he could pay for his travel in and around Japan, his love of good food, and constant need for fashion and fun.

He was older than Henry and burly, manly, and everything Henry secretly fantasized about. And when he noticed the young prince's absolute frustration with the gilded prison he lived in, he fished. He'd share pictures of his adventures, and tell Henry about meals and moments he'd loved.

It didn't take long before Henry was sneaking out to try the tiny sushi bars and all night dance clubs.

The best part was Akio's warm hand in his own and wide shoulders bracketing him when they came across another threshold, when Akio let him step first into new worlds.

Harry was excited to see how Ada would handle the dichotomy of the polished world versus the gritty excitement Henry and Akio found in underground Tokyo.

He hoped she made the night life dreamy and the day times surreal. Harry was sure she would. The notes that Jeff had brought out from meetings he had missed were exactly what he wanted.

He was excited to see how Ada would handle their love scenes. They were so bittersweet on the page, awkward and almost uncomfortable, but such a eye opening moments for Henry, Harry could see Ada mastering them. True to life and life altering.

He was excited to see how Ada would frame Tokyo. She'd traveled here, he'd found deep in her Instagram. She was younger, and there were lots of emojis and exclamation points. Those were largely absent from her current social media presence. He wasn't sure if that was due to her falling in love with Japan, like he had, or because she had grown out of effusion.

He hoped the latter was not the case. He appreciated enthusiasm, liked it loads better than sophistication.

He was excited to meet Ada.

Not because she was beautiful, but because he was a fan. And he was damn lucky the scheduling had worked out, and that she was willing to risk her critical capital on him. Risk the buzz around her on a rom com. It could be a really good movie. He knows, and bankable. He could be bankable, was.

It could also be a huge flop, effectively ending his film career for a time and her directorial rise.

Harry wasn't sure why she was doing this. It wasn't about money. She'd been raised music royalty and could probably just be rich as a job for her whole life. But she'd gone to really great schools and worked really hard.

She'd made a great but uncomfortable film.

It was nothing like the film she was going to make with him.

Harry was a bit confused about why she had said yes. Sometimes, when he was trying to close a deal, wanted somebody, like Jeff Bhasker, he met them personally.

It always did the trick for him. He was charming. Jeff always said people fell a little in love with him. Harry would deny it, if it wasn't mutual. He always fell a little in love with the people he worked with.

It was almost never consummated.

But he hadn't met Ada. So it hadn't been his famous charm that got her to sign on. Harry hadn't even called. Jeffrey said the negotiations were surprisingly brief.

"Is it because our dad knows her dad?" Harry was searching. Why would she take the risk? Irving was compelling, he knew that.

"'Maybe, but I think Ada is, like, begrudgingly in the industry, like was looking to make her own name and avoid Garner's large footprints."

That's probably why she stayed away from music, or maybe she had a bad voice.

That would do, she needed a flaw. With the Ivy League, and the face, and the taste.

What was she doing with him? With his movie? Maybe she was a secret directioner. He laughed out loud and startled the quiet air of his solitary cabin. Unlikely, though that wouldn't be the weirdest or the first.

God, what if she had a little thing for him? That would be so awkward. Kinda thrilling too, he bit his lip at the thought. He'd shaken that older woman stigma, but it was still a flavor he enjoyed under the radar.

He shook his head at himself. Ada was a woman, women didn't risk their whole lives for his dimples. They didn't have the time. You could come over after their kids were asleep, so long as you left before they got up for school. Or you could spend the night when they were at dads for the weekend or school Holidays.

You had to work into their schedule.

Like the movie had. Maybe it just fit and she liked the script. It was good and a fresh take on a classic, like Alessandro reincorporating the green and red web.

In any case, Harry was a bag of nerves to meet her, his director. Maybe not the way he was for Chris. But he'd met him way later in the process.

And that wasn't his ship. He was a member of a big and bright ensemble.

He hoped they got along, he hoped she got his dumb jokes, and they had creative chemistry.

He hoped she liked him.

They finally got to where he could deplane and go straight through customs. He hoped the hour, just gone dawn where it first touched earth, meant he'd be able to get in undetected. He'd gotten lucky a lot lately. The short hair helped. He missed the long locks as much as everybody else, but princes were not allowed rockstar hair so, he'd cut it.

His mum favored this length.

"Welcome to Tokyo, Mr. Styles,"  a bright eyed customs girl smiled. It was conspiratorial, like she'd helped him pull off a trick.

Masa was waiting at the baggage area for him, and had collected his things already. That would be a neat trick, if the private stuff didn't always come out of the oversized belt to the side.  Plus, it was all worn high end pieces.Masa knew them. They'd lived in his living room going on three times now.

"Osu Ha-ri, genki?" His burly friend said. He loved when men were taller than him, then he drew fewer eyes.

"Hisashiburi, Masa!" They embraced. He also loved when he was smaller, his wingspan was usually the widest. Not with Masa.

He barely remembered how'd they met, Harry thought it had to do with Bell. Something to do with the dog. No, it was the boxing gym; Masa's business, but the dog was there. But he'd immediately felt comfy and happy. Cozy. That was a feeling Harry had learned to listen to, made sure to include people in his life who made him feel like he was at home immediately.

When you essentially run away with the circus at 16, you get homesick. The road family was good, but after time, Harry realized there were people who looked out for you, people who looked out for themselves, and people who used you. The ones that looked out for others, like Cal, and Ben, and the Azoffs, gave him an immediate feeling of home. Like when he would wake up and smell his mom baking, or see her come in with dirt under her nails, or the steam of his favorite mug placed in front of him, but flesh. 

Since he'd started his own circus, he'd felt at home with Mitch, especially, which was why he was closest to him and Sarah. And Helene, though that one got complicated a few times, and he'd felt like that with Masa. Or maybe Bell, in any case, he liked seeing them when he was in Japan. As he was setting up arrangements and Jeff had asked him who he wanted for his own Akio, his own Japanese handler, he'd immediately said Masa.

Masa has been thrilled, had even wanted Harry to stay with them.

"You sure you want to go to the hotel, Ha-ri. We set up the guest room?" Masa took his carry on from him, but was wise enough to not try for the suitcase. Harry could only take so many insults to his man hood. He liked being smaller, but not feeling small.

"Nah, man, I couldn't put you guys out, and I have to be on set so early sometimes. I may even sleep in my trailer, if my last time on set is anything to go by." He hefted his brown leather satchel up and rolled his massive-'whole life in a suitcase' bag behind him. "I'd hate to think you guys may be waiting for me."

"We wouldn't mind." Masa, so polite. The Japanese could give the English a run for their money in manners. Masa meant it. He didn't break out any of the pleases Harry had tried to learn last time. There were a lot of ways to say please in Japanese. Harry was relieved Masa didn't push more. He could stay there, it would be ok.

But there would be expectations. "The studio already paid for the hotel." That could be fixed, but Harry knew he would run himself ragged trying to please everybody. He'd see Masa every day and his girl and Bell on weekends, or when they traveled.  And he'd work out at the gym.

They'd shoot a little in Kyoto too. And somewhere on an island with gorgeous hot springs. All around Tokyo, mostly. He expected his four legged family to show occasionally. He hoped that the already paid money and set up would be enough.

Masa smiled a little bemusedly and hoisted Harry's bag with his journals and toiletries and workout shoes up his shoulder and then tromped to his car.

When Harry sat in the front seat, Masa looked at him, "what are you doing?"

"You want me to ride in the back?" Harry could tell he looked like a really attractive bug at the moment.

"Well, you won't stay at my home, so, figured I was just an employee."

Harry stood with the door open trying to figure out how to respond, he felt like his was standing hanging his ass out a window for how exposed he was. Standing outside near an airport of all places. He was stuck, he had no idea he had offended Masa so much. Could they get over this? Would he be pissed for long? Should Harry just stay with him? Dammit. He totally didn't subscribe to the you shouldn't work with friends idea, most of the people he worked with started or became friends. It usually meant trust, not squished toes. Fuck.

The grin took over Masa's handsome face a moment later, it was huge, big as the freak out Harry was just engaging in. Then he snorted a laugh that sent Harry's eyebrows way up his forehead.

"I'm just fucking with you. Get in before you get photographed, or worse, mobbed!" Masa was coughing by the time Harry had the door closed and was pulling the seat belt on.

"That wasn't very funny." Harry shook his head but a laugh was rumbling in his chest too.

"That's because you couldn't see your face!" Masa wiped a tear, he was very satisfied with his joke and Harry narrowed his eyes at him. Gemma would pull some shit like this, play on his natural insecurity about upsetting somebody, especially somebody he cared about, and then crack up in his face.

This felt familial.

Which was why he had learned to listen to the warm feeling in his gut when he met certain people. They were the best ones. And they made the traveling circus home.

Masa was home. Japan in a person. He had lived in the U.S. as a teenager, and was fluent in English, which helped him teach Harry Japanese. He even got English humor, though Harry's puns were inevitably lost on him.

Lost on everyone.

"Alright, Jesus. You're not that funny. Keep your eyes open, so we make it to the hotel in one piece. Just for that I should make you be a chauffeur and ride in the back of the car."

"You won't. You'll feel too off. Besides, I can drive and laugh at you, I suspect I'll get really good at it the next couple months." He grinned like an ass Harry's way. "So what's the next couple days like, the itinerary I got is kinda bare at first."

"I think that's to do with people arriving, Ada, the director, is coming right off some work in New York, and flights and delays and crews and entourages." He made a 'you know' gesture.

Masa just looked at him, and Harry had to laugh. His life was weird. Most abnormal normal person ever.

"But, anyway, I'm supposed to, um, wow the river!" And he pointed to the bright sun spot on the water and got totally distracted. He loved this city.

"Do you want me to stop?" Masa asked, put on his indicator. He knew Harry was going to be impossible to distract from the sight until he really saw it, maybe wrote on it.

It was quiet. Harry thought he could chance it. So he nodded, barely waited for the car to stop before he stepped out, on what would soon be a very crowded bridge and stood, bathed in the opening day.

This could be a good thing, a great start of something. This morning felt like it. This movie was the beginning of something, big.

He was terrified.

But he tried to do things that scared him. And this movie was going to bring up the perpetual questions about his sexuality. Harry was ready to just say the obvious. But point out that actors didn't need to be lgbtq to play a character who was. He was scared of this too, because he didn't like the pressure to define himself, to be definite. He liked fluidity, ambiguity. But he'd do it, for the film. Maybe to stop the question once and for all. That made him laugh, unlikely.

He'd tested it out in the mirror a lot when the movie got the greenlight. 'I'm bisexual.'

'I fall for people, not women or men necessarily.' 'I like both.' It didn't really matter, but the question was the bad penny that kept turning up, so he'd lay it to rest, say he was bi, and hope nobody pressed, like that awful woman in that Bowie interview. He hoped some progress had been made. He hoped lots of things.

Harry was so glad Jeff was coming and that he had Masa. He could do it as long as he stayed near people who made him safe, like Jeff and Masa.

He hoped Ada felt like family, like ichariba chode. Like Masa taught him. Friends that feel like home. Harry loved that the Japanese had a word for his abstracted feelings.

That would make it easier for him to slip into character. This prince in an ivory tower with high expectations,myriad rules, and attraction to something uncommon. It was much closer to him than Alex, his previous role.

He felt good, like this moment was an omen. He took it in like he did the crowds at his shows, looked over the water like it was a whole sea of people who thought he was amazing.

He could be amazing. He hoped Ada thought so. He couldn't wait to meet Ada.

He was terrified.

It was three days later when she made it to set. She was late, so the production had started without her. Just coverage and blocking. They couldn't get too far behind. So the producers urged the A.D. to get going. It was going well, Harry felt like he'd made a good opening salvo by renting the karaoke hall last night. He'd sung with each group, in each room, even took requests. They were out until really late.

He knew he looked slightly worse for wear, he hoped Ayae's eye patches took down the bags. She made some very unhappy noises over the concealer this morning. His balance, which sucked most days, was always worse when he was hungover. It was why he rarely drank when he had to perform. He really shouldn't have last night. But you have to drink when you're being toasted.

He got toasted a lot. After every song. Before every song. During musical breaks.

He was feeling really queasy, having trouble staying on his mark when he heard a new voice. The whole room was angled it's way.

"Sorry," her voice was huskier than he expected. It was...nice. "I think they grounded every damn plane on the eastern seaboard. I was afraid I might have to reenact the movie Terminal. Get a set of toiletries at the overpriced shop, buy myself a blanket to go with the travel pillow I wore like a necklace for three days." The pillow necklace was still on, and it dawned on Harry that she had come straight from the airport. The pattern on the pillow was wild, kinda seemed to be moving. He needed some water.

Wow, he felt a little like he was on a tilt o wheel.  She was really pretty. Better than her photos and she was dragging her suitcase. He should help her.

Harry rushed up to take her bag, and lost his balance.

Pulled his Harry special and tripped over his own pigeon toed feet.

Ada reached out to grab him and he fell face first into her cleavage.

He knew his cheeks were red, well, if they weren't green. The motion angered his tender stomach.

The croissant he'd hoped would calm his belly came up, he missed her cleavage, but it splattered, green and chunky all over her Gucci trainers.

He should have bought those, was his thought before they got covered in sick.

"Fuck!"  Ada screamed and jumped back from him. Just keeping ahold to keep him aloft but trying to get out of the way of his spew.

He felt more than embarrassed, like when he'd got caught saying pussy on TV. But mom wasn't here to ground him this time. What a shit first impression!

Only way out was through.

He didn't even try a charming smile, the spit trail would ruin it.

"Hi, sorry, I'm Harry."