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bumbershots · 3 years

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A CERTAIN ROMANCE

CHAPTER ONE: JUEVES

Author’s note: Hello! I’ve decided to give it a go, this is my first chaptered fic in this website. This story just occurred to me a while ago and I’ve tried my best to make some sense out of the concept which honestly is forever changing on my mind. I hope you don’t find many grammar mistakes, if you do please let me know. Enjoy! (:

Story masterlist ** Word count: 2.3K **

It's been years since Harry last had to use the tube, but it's not as hard as he thinks, buying the ticket was fairly simple and soon enough he was sitting on the train comfortably. The northern line wasn't too busy, no delays were announced through the speakers, his journey to Ladbroke Grove station was going to last around thirty six minutes. He suddenly can't remember how long the ride would be on a car. Maybe it's time to start using the London Underground a bit more, contributing to saving the planet, lessen his carbon footprint. With all the aeroplanes he takes a year, he should use it from now onto the rest of his life, he thinks with a bit of guilt.

He changes to the Hammersmith and city line with ease, passing by lots of people, no one truly pays attention to him. The school girls that would usually come up to him and ask for a picture are too busy gossiping among themselves, the grown up adults that are more fond of his solo work are too immersed into their own thoughts about annoying bosses. Harry likes to blend into the crowd that's gathered now at the station and awaits for the train. In the eyes of the others, he's just another guy patiently waiting for the train to hop on and get to his destination. Even though he was on his way to meet with the team that will take care of his house renovation, a property valued approximately on £4.175 million.

The train arrives and he follows the multitude that pile into the wagon, he isn't lucky to find a seat this time but doesn't mind as he finds a good spot to lean against, the doors close just as he skips the ABBA song he doesn't feel like listening at the moment and settles for Hanson instead. He bops his head along the tune before slipping back the mobile in his pocket, eyes traveling along the passengers' faces, trying to guess what they're up to.

A group of lads wearing the Tottenham jersey discuss the latest game, one of them praising Kane's goal and regretting him missing the next match. Harry knows a thing or two about football, he even plays it regularly with his friends not so far away from his home, but he doesn't keep up with Manchester United, perhaps he can do that from now on he thinks before letting his gaze fall upon the pack getting down on Baker Street and the few ones hopping on. Most of them are tourists chatting about the Sherlock Holmes museum, the singer smiles, remembering the first time he visited it with his family, many years ago. Sometimes he longs for those days to be back, so he can do the typical touristy things with the people he loves the most once in a while or have a date without a good amount of lenses focused on his every move.

Not that he regrets being a well known musician, actor, model. It comes with a lot of perks. But he's just moving on from a breakup that might have been his fault. He's a workaholic for sure, even though he's supposed to be taking it easy, his mind can't help but keep throwing song ideas for the next album. That is why Jeff suggested the home renovation, knowing that the project will keep him busy for about three months, maybe more if the contractors up sell their ideas.

Harry makes his way out of the station in one piece and without being spotted, he checks the address again on his phone, confirming the place where the meeting will be held is within walking distance and makes his way before choosing a Pink Floyd song for the six minute walk. He pulls his coat tighter around him, relishing in the forever changing weather of the city, this time he will stay and enjoy it in full, maybe even delight in the autumn too, have his mum over for a couple of weeks, maybe he'll even stay longer and take her to the ice rink.

Just as Harry plots on where to go when his favourite person pays him a visit, he reaches the private front garden off a beautiful car-free garden square. He remembers to text Jack, who doesn't take long to appear in the distance and unlock the gate for his friend.

"You're impossibly early mate," the man greets with an amused chuckle.

"Sorry, had to take the tube because of what you said about car-free development, probably miscalculated the time." Harry admits sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck as Jack leads the way through the garden. "Is this where they filmed Notting Hill?" He wonders with another look around.

"Couple of scenes that didn't make the cut, our neighbour Mrs. Black will tell you all about it, if you happen to run into her around Hugh Grant's birthday." Harry laughs as they reach a private entrance with a well-maintained front garden adorning the forepart of the property, he follows Jack inside the home where a strong coffee scent greets them both.

The musician quickly scans the large open plan kitchen/reception room with large glass sliding patio doors to a delightful independent garden where a round table is surrounded by four mismatching chairs. He doesn't remember Jack's old place, but it certainly didn't look as the dream home they're standing in right now.

"Thanks for agreeing to do the meeting here mate," Harry's words are sincere his companion can tell, he tries to shove it off as if it's nothing, handing him the mug with coffee while he pours another one for himself, "I know it can be a handful, the NDAs too." Now he's almost blushing.

"We should be thanking you H, work from home for the next couple of months, my dream come true." Jack manages to make him laugh and feel at ease again, just before the steps of a third party come from the stairs and grow closer towards them. "Just in time, Harry this is Fernando Gonzalez, my housemate and architect of the team." He introduces the tall man to his friend and watches them shake each other's hand, "Fernando this is our client, Harry Styles."

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you Mr. Styles," his voice is soft and melodic, like an aerophone instrument.

"Please call me H, all my friends do," the musician knows this is business, but he wants to have fun too, like Jeff suggested. And the guy looks way too young to be calling him Mister Styles.

"I warned you Fer, he likes to keep it easy, breezy." Jack says motioning both of them to follow his lead and sit down in their dining table that is covered with house design magazines, floor plans of Harry's home and a couple of what the pop star assumes are sketch notebooks. "Alright, tell us about your vision for this project." In all honesty, Harry doesn't know how to answer that.

He fights the urge to say that he had purchased the property knowing that not much is needed to be done to the décor. The style and the flow of the house is already lovely. After a quick glance at the plan he thinks that maybe, more room is needed and, most importantly, a new kitchen-dining-living space that would be grand enough to entertain in, but cosy enough to be the central 'hub' of his home.

"The windows, for starters, have to be replaced." He begins with a tone so confident that the pair before him don't suspect he's improvising the whole thing. "New bathrooms, perhaps from Lusso Stone, demolish an existing rear extension from the top and design and build an entirely new expansive ultra-modern one, like the one at Lou's home." Jack nods understanding what he means, "I also want a kitchen diner extension, pink granite worktops, if possible." Harry finishes before grabbing one of the magazines and starts flipping pages just to look busy.

The whole project can take six months, they let him know, through the summer and autumn. He's elated at achieving double the time he hoped for in the beginning.

"We'll send the paperwork to your team and see you next week to sign it once they approve it," Jack concludes the meeting as they all finish their coffee. "Are you busy on the nineteenth?" His friend's voice is warmer now that he's not on business mode, it makes Harry smile.

"I don't think I am, why?"

"It's Freddie's birthday, you should come, catch up with the lads," Harry nods while thinking about it, a bit unsure because it has been a while since he's seen the rest of the pack, he's not sure they'll welcome him just like that. "They're always asking about you, could be like old times, lads doing laddy stuff," the green eyed musician chuckles at that, not sure if he wants to go back to those activities of their youth.

"Sure I'll go, text me the address a few days before," his friend nods in approval to his request, "I better get going, I have to pick up my sister for dinner, see you both next week." The youngest nods and shakes Harry's hand before Jack leads the way out the house and square. The sun is setting now and the sky is a mix of pink and purple hues just as the two men bid their goodbyes until they meet again in a week's time.

Harry scolds himself for buying a one way ticket earlier instead of sorting out an Oyster card, he'll do that next time, he thinks before stepping into the train and finding a seat in the middle section of it. Led Zeppelin is a good soundtrack for his journey back home, for some reason he is craving the powerful, noisy, speedy rebellion that came with the band's songs, he loved to get so lost in the music that whatever activity he did came in second, every single time. Which is why he almost didn't get off at the King's cross stop, he hurried out of the vehicle, laughing to himself for being so immersed into the music.

The way back to the northern line was now familiar, but not as busy, he decided not to walk too fast after confirming that he had enough time to go home and take a shower before going over to Gemma's. Waiting at the platform he decides to change his playlist, again. Just as he's about to settle for Wings, out of the corner of his eye he spies what the person next to him is listening to and he stops from hitting play on his own device.

The who.

It's been ages since he heard them, three years if he is being honest. The train arrives and the girl next to him puts her phone in her coat pocket as she prepares to board the wagon, Harry does the same, but instead of training his eyes on the descending passengers, he lets them focus on her. She's wearing a nice burgundy coat, a black newsboy cap, high-waisted jeans with a blue polka dot blouse tucked underneath them. She's much shorter than he is, probably about Helene's height, he thinks as they make their way inside.

Without meaning to, he follows her and leans on the wall, across from her. She doesn't seem to notice how his stare is burning holes into her face, he's itching to ask her where did she buy the red boots she's wearing. Harry knows the moment he speaks to her, it will all go to shit. Some of the school girls sitting nearby might recognise his voice, his dimple could pop out to play and give him away too. She might also think he's a creep and kick him in the shin, leaving a nasty bruise that would heal in about a week, unlike the invisible one in his ego.

"Are you telling me, you developed a ten feet tall crush on someone you saw on the tube?" Gemma asks later that night, her fork full of linguine was stopped mid-air, making her brother roll his eyes but nod bashfully. "I'm speechless." The fork resumes its trajectory and she chews her pasta slowly.

"It happens to everyone, only because you both know that there's almost no chance to see each other again." Harry shrugs and bites a piece of bread, still feeling weird about the situation.

"Did she make eyes at you?"

"What?" He's completely taken off guard by his sister's question, his northern accent coming out and making him drop the 't' at the end.

"Yes, did you flirt with each other making eyes," Gemma's eyelashes flutter as if she was a Disney princess meeting her love interest for the first time, Harry shakes his head in denial, "what was it then?"

"I don't know! It was weird, couldn't take my eyes off of her but... she didn't even notice, I sound like a dirty man," he does, his sister agrees but the pink spots on his cheekbones tell a different story.

"I once had a crush like that, with a cashier at Waitrose," she remembers before sipping her wine, "he was nice to look at, one day he wasn't there anymore, just like that." Gemma sighed and took her younger sibling's hand on hers before adding. "If our lives were a Nicholas Sparks novel, perhaps we would be getting ready to have a date with those lovely people but..." Harry laughed and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"How's the sunnies collaboration going?" He asked before taking the last of his gnocchi. Listening to his sister talk about things that she enjoyed was the highlight of his days, he managed to push his silly underground crush to the back of his mind.

But there was the truth of what Harry couldn't see, or say. He'd probably like to have a shot with a girl like that and if Gemma could only see her, she would agree. Agree that there might be a story around there.

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