#I work tonight so nothing more polished but happy birthday to my favorite fish girl | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

carolina-writings · 7 years

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Like It’s Your Birthday

Long, angsty harry piece I wrote with fluff at the end of course! Enjoy XO

When you were a small child, your birthday was your favorite day of the year. Always filled with pancake breakfasts, helium balloons, and handmade cards from your family - the day was one out of the year where you were celebrated. A day that your parents were able to put aside their marital problems, and your siblings would put aside their busy lives to make you, their youngest baby, feel special.

But as you grew older, your birthday lost it’s novelty. Your parents eventually were unable to even play nice one day out of the year, and your siblings lives’ grew busier. It didn’t bother you, as you understood life moved on and people were busy; so by age 10 you learned that birthdays didn’t really matter.

While other children in your 5th grade class would share about their birthday dinner at a fancy steakhouse, you’d sit quietly, thinking about your own celebratory meal of reheated leftovers and the silence of your dad’s empty apartment. I don’t need to be celebrated - I’m not that special, you’d think to yourself, trying to curb the feeling of disappointment upon not receiving even a text from your mother.

When you first started dating Harry, he never understood your opposition to the day. He’d tease you about it, unrelentingly bugging you until you finally agreed to let him do something. Your first birthday with him, only 3 months into the relationship, it took him a week to convince you to go out to dinner.

Now, three years later, you’re beginning to love the day again. Harry always goes out of his way to make you feel special, reminding you that it’s not a terrible thing to allow yourself to be celebrated every once in a while.

So when you came home from work on your special day, you had whole heartedly expected Harry to be waiting there for you. Especially considering the fact that he was gone when you woke, and hadn’t texted you a peep, regarding the birthday at least.

But when you walk into the apartment to find it empty, your stomach sinks. No, you think, he would never forget. He must be planning something, throwing you off to make you think he forgot. That’s more like it.

Mid-thought, your phone buzzes.

From: Harry

Why don’t you have some pals over tonight? I’ll be home late. Happy Friday xx

You sigh at the message, immediately taking your phone out and calling your best friend, Violet. If Harry truly was planning something, you wanted to know. Although it was looking less and less likely.

“Vi,” you nearly shout as she answers. “I have a question.”

“Well damn, birthday bitch!” she responds, laughing. She’s clearly on the subway, chaos ringing in the background of her call. “What’s up?”

“Okay it sounds weird but,” you pause, thinking of how to phrase this. “Is Harry planning anything for me? For my birthday? Because he hasn’t acknowledged it at all, and that’s not like him.”

Her sharp breath and mumbled “fucking asshole” is all you need.

“I’m gonna come over,” she assures you, as you feel tears brimming your eyes. “I’m sure he’s just busy. But I will bring wine and pad thai and more wine.”

You sniffle, heart hurting and anger swirling. How could he do this to you? Make you finally excited for a birthday, and then leave you in the dust just like your parents would.

“Ok,” you head upstairs to change out of work clothes and into sweats. “You’re the best.”

“Girl, I know.”

Within an hour, Violet was bursting to your apartment with an obscene amount of junk food and wine, her free arm open to pull you into a hug.

“I brought two bottles of pinot grigio for you,” she smiles. “And one for myself. Drink up, bitch. Forget him.”

“A savior,” you sniffle, reaching for the bag in question, popping open a bottle and chugging the liquid straight. “I need to be drunk.”

“Slow down, kid,” she grabs the bottle from your fish-like lips, tilting it down, laughing at the amount already consumed. You two are set up on the couch, wine and food in hand, watching a film. “You haven’t even eaten anything yet. No puking on my watch.”

“He fucking forgot my birthday, Vi. After everything.”

“Look, you know me, I’m honest,” she takes another bite from her food, sitting on your counter. “Harry can be a lot of things. He can be grumpy, he can be scattered, he can be a bit of a dick at times; but there’s one thing that I know and it’s that he loves you with all of his fucking heart and soul. Everything he’s got. So yeah, he fucked up, but he loves you.”

You simply nod, taking another swig of wine. By now, you’re about 3/4 of the way done with bottle #1, and the effects aren’t lost on you and your hot cheeks.

Just as you were about to respond, the door opened, signaling Harry was home. His Chelsea boots clamored across the wooden kitchen, humming a casual tune as he heads towards the living room where you’re laid out on the floor, chugging the rest of your wine.

“Oi!” he greets the two of you, taking a seat on the couch in front of you, playfully resting his feet on your stomach. You furrow your eyebrows up at him, pushing them away from you. “This Steel Magnolias?”

“Yeah,” Violet answers the question, knowing it was unlikely you would satisfy his smalltalk with an answer. “We were gonna watch Sixteen Candles, but this was on.”

Kicking your friend at the forgotten birthday reference, you polish off the bottle, earning an eyebrow raise from your boyfriend.

“Full bottle?” he jokes, clearly not realizing that he’s the issue here. “Who pissed you off? Was it tha’ guy from work, wha’s his name? Buggin’ you again?”

“No Harry,” you say coldly, sitting up to face him completely. You were ready for a fight now. He still has no idea. “Some absolute dickhead forgot my birthday! Which normally, I’d be fine with. I’m used to disappointment. Except for this said dickhead finally taught me to enjoy birthdays again, and then got so wrapped up in his life that he left me disappointed, yet again. Like when I was a kid.”

Harry’s eyes fill with guilt immediately upon realizing what he’s done, but his jaw clenches with anger at your drunken rant.

“Bloody hell” he sighs, running a hand through his hair as his voice grows a bit louder. “I’m fuckin’ trying! Tryin’ to balance everything. My career, my family, my personal life, you. It’s all too fuckin’ much!”

“Oh look at you, Mr. Rockstar!” you mock him. “We get it, you’re fucking busy, but it’s one day. ONE. Even your fucking AUNT sent me flowers, but not even a peep from you!”

“I’m gonna go,” Violet whispers, quietly ducking out as you square up to your boyfriend, your hand planting firmly on your hip. “Call me tomorrow, don’t kill each other. You quite like each other.”

Harry simply shakes his head as you wave her out, standing and turning to pace in the kitchen. You stand up, following him, the alcohol running through your veins making you braver and more combative than usual.

“‘m sorry! I wouldn’ hurt you,” his words are sweet, but his tone is still angry. “You know tha’. You know it wasn’ intentional.”

“Doesn’t make it hurt any fucking less, Harry! You left me in the dust, just like my family used to! I thought you were different.”

He rubs his hands over his eyes dramatically before slamming both fists down on the counter in rage, tears brimming his eyes.

“Fuck,” is all he whispers, realization hitting him. “You mean everythin’ to me. You have to know that. Please, please tell me you know that.”

“I do.”

“I fucked up,” his anger suddenly turns to sadness. As if admitting his wrongdoing lifted his defensiveness off of his shoulder and leaves him with the reality of the situation. “’m so sorry, my love. I’m trying so hard.”

You inch towards him, all of your rage disappearing at the sight of a single tear streaming down his cheek. A tear that opens the floodgates for even more tears, which compels you to wrap your arms around him, your face resting on his back.

“We all fuck up sometimes,” you whisper, kissing between his shoulder blades. “I still love you.”

He turns and looks down at you, eyes red and cheeks stained. You kiss his lips softly, running a thumb over his cheek.

“It’s jus’ all so much,” he whispers. “I’m tryin’, though. Really am. I’ll do better on our anniversary. And next year.”

You chuckle a little, kissing him again, and again. The alcohol in your bloodstream tells you to deepen the kiss, hands tangling in his hair and pulling him down closer to you.

“There’s nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you,” you whisper, looking into his eyes before placing a peck on his nose. “Even when I hate you, I still love you.”

“Would you still love me if I looked like this?” he inquires, using his finger to upturn his nose and flash you a goofy grin.

“Yes,” you kiss his knuckle, resting your head on his chest. “Now please, my love, let’s get to bed.”

“I have jus’ the presen’ for you,” he smirks, slapping your ass cheekily and pecking at your neck. “Y’know, it’s still your birthday for 23 more minutes. I can give you a happy endin’, babe.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t even try to get upstairs then,” you smirk, hopping up on the kitchen counter, allowing him to consume you with his kisses. “Let’s celebrate my happy ending right here.”

And you did.

#harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst

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