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pinencurls · 4 years
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“I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”
Hiii so this is my entry to @stellarboystyles‘s three year anniversary fic challenge! I’ve been busy with getting ready for classes starting and balancing other stuff so I wrote it on and off for a week and a bit but I hope you all enjoy! Feedback is so so encouraged and appreciated <3 
Here’s my masterlist of some other stuff I’ve written x 
Enemies (more like friends but oops) to lovers, prompt 9 “I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”
14k+ :) Not read through sorry! pls let me know of nay mistakes and I’ll correct them <3 (also i k n o w the title’s bad but i couldn’t think of anything, pls feel free to leave any recs.)
- - - - 
It isn’t that I hate Harry. He just makes me feel…insecure. He’s never said or done anything directly but it’s hard to feel good about yourself when all your closest confidants seem to compare you to somebody else, somebody they so clearly hold higher above you. There wasn’t a single day I could meet a mutual friend of mine and Harry’s and not have them sing his praises, and apparently everyone was a mutual friend. I’ve known Julia and Theo for years, we all met in uni when they first started going out but it wasn’t until a year ago that I somehow ended up finding myself a regular within the friendship group they’d formed when they both went into the music and fashion industries. They had ties everywhere and after a pure coincidence of running into them and their circle at a pub, almost all my weekends were spent in various art galleries or new restaurants owned by somebody’s cousin or the guy they met last night at a Fleetwood Mac concert. 
I’d met Harry about five months into hanging out with the group. He’d known them a lot longer than I had, weaving his way into the little pockets of interesting people for years since the x factor. I was busy with work the first few times he was in town but after a while, Nick, the persistent party planner of the group who always managed to wrangle us together, insisted that I just had to meet him.                  … . . 
Eleanor’s house is huge and buzzing with hundreds of strangers. I cling to Julia and Theo’s side, Nick and Eleanor are nowhere in sight - most likely playing host or drinking too much chardonnay in another corner of the house. These four are the only people I can say I really know here, sure there are a few familiar faces on the dance floor, either from having met them at any of Eleanor’s past elaborate parties or just because of they’re not so subtle fame. That’s another thing, all the people sipping wine and dancing around me are fairly…well known. Either just within the industry or to the general public too, they’d all gain fairly high status. It was a fluke really that I got on so well with Julia when we first met on a fashion course in uni. 
Julia had big goals, all of which she was on track to fulfil, that conflicted slightly with mine. Her goals consisted of runway show models clad in designer brands she might one day contribute to whereas mine were more…anti, that whole world. It took a few years to find a steady footing but eventually, I was proud of where I’d ended up: a comfortable little cubby in the fashion and sustainability columns of a handful of independent magazines. After a few nights out with Julia, I was pleasantly surprised to find her shared interests and solidarity in my work and ambitions of her own within the same ideology. But whilst that’s all well and good, I’m still very much the small indie journalist that slips through the cracks when it comes to small talk at these kinds of events. It became apparent pretty quickly that my latest articles on how fast fashion had begun its destruction of a liveable environment in developing countries weren’t as relevant or interesting to the people promoting Prada and Calvin Klein as the next met gala theme. 
“Do you want another drink?” Theo asks from beside me, pulling my focus from my scan of the room. 
“No thanks..I’m good.” I murmur, debating how long I have to stay before I can slip out and feel a little less awkward around all the people I have no clue how to talk to. “Think I’m gonna head off actually..”
“Look I know you hate networking, but this is just a chill get-together yeah?” Theo chuckles, squeezing my shoulder before taking another sip from his gin and tonic. “We’re in the same boat about these snooty things but tonight’s not like that, relax a bit will ya.” 
Theo works mostly with small-time music artists, producing debut albums and such so we share the same deep discomfort for the many events we often find ourselves at. It’s how we got close really, week after week we’d trail behind Julia as she strikes up conversations with Hollywood elite…and he always makes getting piss drunk in someone’s pool house exceptionally fun. 
Before I can further any excuses about getting home to start on the legitimate and ever-growing pile of work deadlines on my desk, a tall man in far too much Gucci to belong anywhere but in a room full of models and artists makes a beeline straight from the bar to our awkward party. 
“Harry!” Theo shouts, embracing the slightly tipsy man in a hug he reciprocates. 
“It’s been too long mate, how ‘ave you been?” Harry cheers, leaning back from the hug and grinning down at his friend. 
“I’ve been good - busy, enjoying the free bar as always.” Theo jokes, motioning between his and my matching G and T’s. Harry’s eyes wander up from the drink, realisation dawning on his face as he smiles again.
“Ah and you must be the famous Olivia,” He reaches his hand out to mine and shakes it lightly. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself, ‘m Harry, it’s good to finally meet you, love.”  
“Likewise.” I smile, trying to suppress the blush his words of endearment tease. I can’t deny the natural charm and charisma everyone always talks about now that it’s hitting me straight on. There’s something about the way he doesn’t hesitate to hold eye contact just that little bit longer that makes the room go still for just a second. He’d got it down to a T.
“Aww I see you two have finally met!” Nick interrupts. My hand falls from Harry’s grip as he’s welcomed into another hug. “About fucking time as well, been trying get this one to take a night off for weeks!”
“I literally came out with you last Thursday!” I counter, not missing the smirk setting on Harry’s face as he watches Nick and I’s back and forth. “And the Saturday before, come to think of it I’m always out with you Nicky.” 
“Not when Harry’s in town though n’ that’s a different kinda night.” Nick laughs, his beer sloshing slightly in his free hand as his other remains draped over Harry’s shoulders. 
That was maybe the first sign of my slight resentment for Harry. All night I wandered around with Theo hearing little bits of conversations, all surrounding the star of the party. I understood this wasn’t his doing, his humility was clear in every one of his bashful attempts to turn the conversation away from his growing achievements and onto literally anything else. He was, however, a self-proclaimed narcissist. Every time somebody would swoon over him and insist he stay the topic of conversation, a smirk tugged at his lips and stayed there as he consumed the endless and animated praise from almost all the party guests. 
I’d expected some of his qualities to be untrue, learning from the past never to believe blindly of someone’s pure character when you didn’t truly know them. Especially when they frequented the gossip columns. But it wasn’t him so much, he was true to his motto of kindness and courteous even as people fawned over him, it was more the attention that surrounded him. As the night went on it became clear what Nick meant even if he didn’t know it himself. A night out with Harry was different because everyone made sure to capitalize off how different he made them feel.
… . .
“Can I get you anything else M’am?” The young waitress asks as she clears up my empty mug and saucer. My eyes falter a little as they adjust from the blue light of my laptop I’ve been staring at for the last twenty minutes. 
“Um- oh please could I just get a refill?” I ask. 
“Sure thing - mint tea right?” She smiles, adjusting the mug in her hands to make a quick note. 
“Yeah..s’perfect - thank you.” She’s gone before she hears my delayed gratitudes, definitely used to the throngs of bemused writers tapping away at their laptops for hours. 
I turn back to my open google doc. So far it’s written in two parts I have no idea how to connect and my senseless rereading hasn’t resulted in any legitimate progress in almost an hour. I’d accept the rut I’m stuck in and work on something else for the day if I didn’t only have the day. Last night had been filled with plans of settling in early and finishing the last two thousand words on an upcoming sustainable clothing brand. That all went out the window of course as my phone buzzed off the kitchen counter with Nick’s insistence of yet another night out to celebrate ending the work week - his was quite different to mine. It was easy to ignore the persistent beeping of my phone as new texts and call notifications popped up every three minutes, but less so when the rhythmic bursts of noise were replaced by knocks on my front door. 
Within 40 minutes of opening it to Nick in a silk shirt and jeans too skinny for someone pushing thirty, I was two drinks in and dancing to Blue DeTiger with a pair of hands on my waist that I didn’t entirely recognise. It was just the six of us: Me, Nick, Ellie, Theo, Julia and Harry.
He was hard to ignore, not that I was trying particularly hard. On the drive over, the limited backseat space in Nick’s car and close proximity had practically forced me into his lap. Even with thighs pressed tightly against each other, we hardly talked, a few polite hellos here and there and then silence as we listened to Eleanor recall her latest night with whichever blonde bassist was her ‘soulmate’ that week. The whole ride over, Harry kept his hands on the thigh closest to the door and leant his shoulders the same way as to touch me as little as possible - which was still quite a lot considering the packed five seater pushing seven passengers. It was fairly common knowledge we weren’t close and I got the feeling he wasn’t too keen on me, but he could at least not act like touching me would be the worst thing ever. 
As the night went on he clung to Theo, ever the cuddly drunk, and I stayed more to the pleasant stranger I’d found on the dance floor.
No meanest was ever intended between us but I couldn’t help but watch the kindergarten like bitterness grow as everyone just loved him. We couldn’t go anywhere without a crying fan or two approaching the sweet and smiling man who always answered their questions affectionately and hugged them goodbye. The times he was out of town were always filled with comments about his absence, as if none of us were good enough without his added presence. I couldn’t help but wonder why they even bothered to bring me into their little group. The lack of closeness between Harry and I felt almost like a lack of closeness to the group as a whole, despite how much my individual friendships with everyone advanced. 
Just as I thank the waitress - Alice, her name tag read, and take the first sip of my third tea (I had to switch after a particularly strong starter coffee) I notice a familiar man out the corner of my eye looking just as rough as me. Of course he’s wearing it better than I am. 
Harry collects a drink from the counter and bows his head slightly in thanks, turning and catching my eye just as he’s on his way out. He waves with his free hand and shoots me a candid smile before making a quick change in direction towards my small table. 
“Long time no see,” He pulls the chair opposite me out a little as he chuckles at his own joke. He perches lightly, temporarily. “How’ve you been?”
“A little hungover, I won’t lie..” I laugh, surprised by the whole encounter. “You?” 
“Same, I might have had a shot or two too many,” I nod knowingly and shut my laptop softly. He sips what smells like coffee before going on. “Are ya workin? Sorry to interrupt.” 
“Oh no- I mean I am but it doesn’t matter really, ‘ve kinda hit a dead end.” His eyes hover, waiting for me to go on. “I was gonna get it done last night but Nick had other plans..” 
“Yeah Nick’ll do that to you,” He laughs, “What’re you writing ‘bout?” 
He leans slightly forwards, holding eye contact and shuffling comfortably into his chair. 
“Oh just this promotional piece on a new company, they’re hiring young women and training them to make these handmade clothes. They’re paying them above minimum wage and focusing on sustainability so this editor I’ve written for before offered me it.” I’m not really sure how sincere he is in his curiosity, he always seems to have time to listen when Julia has a new design plan or Theo’s found a new artist but that’s different really. I stop before I start to ramble, just in case. 
“That’s so cool, what kinda stuff are they making?” He prompts, resting his chin on his fist, imitating the posture of an eager little kid. 
“They’ve started stocking stuff by other independent artists but mostly dungarees and these cool cord trousers, they’d suit you actually, even got some 70s style ones.” Now that the two worlds are colliding in my head, I can’t help but imagine Harry in a pair of their forest green cords, the wide legs would almost bury his vans but a part of me is pretty sure he’d love them. 
“Thanks, if they come at your recommendation I might have to get my hands on a pair,” He smiles, his tone’s a lot different to the usual polite cheer, it’s difficult to place where it’s landed before he’s talking again. “Reminds me of that show you took us to with the upcycled clothes, all those dungarees made of old quilts - remember?” 
It’d been a small exhibit just outside of London I’d mentioned offhandedly and somehow ended up showing everyone around. It was nice to have them all in my world for an evening. Marcus, a friend of mine from college, had put it together and created a lot of the pieces. He and the others I’d met through my work were fairly shocked to say the least when Harry Styles came traipsing through the doors behind me. All night he quietly asked Nick questions, to which Nick only responded by motioning towards me and wandering off to the bar. 
“I do - I’m surprised you do to be honest.” It slips before I can decide if it sounds passive aggressive or not. To be fair, it had been a surprise to me, meeting everyone at the train station and watching Harry and Nick scramble out a taxi and run towards us. He’d been dressed in proper gallery attire and seemed genuinely thrilled to be joining in on the rare night I actually played host. 
“Course I do, it was a good night…I’d choose it over Nick’s tequila Tuesdays anyday.” His phone buzzes on the table, a text popping up in green. “Oh I- my manager’s waiting sorry.” 
A sheepish smile is accompanied by a loose arm movement towards the door where, out on the street, I see Jeff. He’s shaking his head and motioning for Harry to hurry up. Had Harry sat down to talk to me whilst his manager had been waiting this whole time? 
“It was good running into you, good luck with it all,” He stands. “See you friday yeah?” 
I’d totally forgotten about his “Whenever I’m in town Friday film night.” until he mentioned it. I’d been twice in the past and stayed quietly to my corner of the sofa, only watching as everyone else laughed at whatever romcom had been chosen that night. 
“I-maybe.” He shakes his head as I smile, not quite ready to commit a whole evening to watching Nick raid Harry’s wine cellar. 
“You better, I’m gonna need to hear more ‘bout those cords.” He points his hand in a kind of joking reprimand/wave before he’s gone back down the aisle of tables to the door where Jeff ruffles a hand through his hair and laughs when his hands fly to fix the now birdnest of brown curls. 
I open my laptop back up, skimming over the last few lines I wrote to get myself back on track. I take a sip and my tea’s gone cold. 
… . .
“Are you coming to Harry’s tonight?” Eleanor asks down the phone, her voice chipper as she no doubt raids her closet. 
“Maybe, I don’t know..I’ve got this deadline Monday morning that I’m nowhere near meeting.” 
“Come on Liv, we haven’t seen you all properly together since last month, and last week doesn’t count it was too loud to actually talk!” She chimes in, the sound of clothes being tossed to the floor clear in the distant background. “Have you got a problem with Harry or something?” 
“No Elle, of course I don’t-” 
“Then why do you guys never talk? You hardly come with us when he’s around and when you do you barely even say hello.” Eleanor complains, she’s mentioned it in the past but it’s been easy to blow off with excuses of how busy he usually was making his way around the room to greet everyone or how we just hadn’t known each other that long and weren’t particularly close yet. 
“I just…I don’t know, I don’t think he likes me very much.” I pause. I still haven’t decided what last Saturday was in the cafe. “We’re not really close and I’d prefer not to spend another night listening to people tell him - and everyone else - how great he is.” 
“You’re saying that like he’s some arrogant twit, if you came out with us more you’d see what he’s really like around his friends. Or you know, you could actually talk to him when we’re together and see that he’s not a dick?” 
It was a fair point. I haven’t made much of an effort over the past year to spend any time with him outside of larger gatherings or to have genuine conversations with him that went past the weather or a new jacket one of us had on. Maybe he really is a good guy away from all the pretentious crowds and watchful eyes he usually called to our group. He’d certainly seemed different in the quiet Saturday surroundings of Blondies Coffee Roasters in between sips of coffee. 
“Okay, okay yeah I’ll see you there.” We hang up a couple of minutes later and I’m left alone in my kitchen again.
… . . 
“Hey!” Harry cheers as the door swings open to reveal him in yet another pair of flared pants that hung comfortably around his waist. “Come in, come in.” 
We all pile in through the doorway as he steps aside. Arms weaving through each other as we hang coats and jackets and Julia passes Harry the fruit platter she’d made (and scolded us all for picking at on the drive over.) 
“Oh very appropriate,” Harry laughs as he uncovers the tray to reveal an array of sliced watermelon, strawberries and grapes, He sets the fruit down on the table in the lounge for us all to eat and shakes his head lightly. I look up at Julia for an explanation but she’s too busy claiming the comfiest loveseat for the night. “I’m never telling you anything again, Jules.” 
Julia and Harry tease each other for a moment more until Theo catches my confused stares and laughs to himself. 
“Harry wrote a song ‘bout fruit- another one actually,” Theo starts, tucking himself beside Julia and letting her take over before he can finish. “S’not just about fruit though is it H?” 
Harry blushes slightly and settles his glare on Julia as he carries six wine glasses through to the table. 
“‘S about watermelon, it just has some..” He clears his throat as he fumbles for his next sentence. “Other themes to it too.” 
“As if mate,” Theo’s laughter booms, “ Basically Liv, he wrote this new song the other day all about how much he loves to-” 
“Watermelon!” Harry yells, pointing an accusatory finger at Theo. “S’all about how much I love watermelons…I’m a fruit guy.” 
“Oh are we talking about the pussy song?” 
All heads snap round to see Nick, obviously having let himself in and now chuckling softly to himself as he leans against the archway into the room. 
“Oh sorry H, were you tryna give an interview answer?” 
Harry just slaps his palm over his eyes and lets his shoulders shake for a minute before he bounces back to host mode. 
“Okay!” I can’t help but notice how flushed the tips of his ears are as he claps his hands together, desperately trying to move on from the conversation. “Who wants wine?” 
Fifteen minutes later everyone is settled onto the sofas with an array of throws between us and a layout of fruits, crisps and other mid rom com snacks that make me feel bad I left my flat in too much of a hurry to remember anything but hummus. 
“Okay - Sixteen Candles, When Harry Met Sally or Mamma Mia?” Nick calls out, waving the tv remote above his head to get everyone’s attention. An outpour of votes follows - you’d think between only six of us we’d be able to sort out a process by now but still we fall into momentary anarchy as the room divides. 
“Mamma Mia is a classic!” Eleanor protests as Nick’s shaking his head. 
“And Billy Crystal isn’t?” He yells back, eyes wide and genuinely offended. 
“Colin Firth is arguably more iconic, Nick really, come on.” Theo sighs. He accepts the high fives Ellie and I reach out to him and saluts us both. 
“We’ve all seen Mamma Mia before though, we’ve never watched When Harry Met Sally all together,” Julia points out, winning a smirk and nod of approval from Nick. 
There’s a beat of silence while Nick weighs up the votes in his head. He tilts to the side slightly and eyes Harry up, our gazes following. 
“Harry?” 
“Ellie?” 
“Come on, you’ve got the last vote here, and I know how much you like Meryl.” Nick gasps a little, the mention of Meryl Streep as a wager to win Harry over to his opposing team was definitely foul play in his eyes. 
“Yeah but he loves When Harry Met Sally…and he is a narcissist..” Julia offers into the debate, a few snickers follow her comment before we all turn to look at Harry. We’re all already half a glass in but I could swear for just a moment his eyes lingered over me, fluttering down to my smile before turning back to announce his decision to Nick. 
“I’m afraid I am in the mood for a bit of Abba,” Cheers and not so subtle murmurs of frustration fill the lounge as Nick scrolls through the Romance bar on Netflix before clicking on the film of just over half of our choosing. 
Everyone goes quiet as the film starts, breaking out into bursts of song only as the cast does. From the conversation in the car, it’s pretty clear everyone has just been through a pretty tiring week. We all tended to pile our workload a little heavy so it was always nice to escape for a few hours at the weekend and relax together.
Just as Voulez-vous plays through the room, a slightly tipsy Nick leans into Harry to serenade the singer with his own rendition. The duo sway slightly, both narrowly avoiding Nick’s wild limbs before there’s a crash and Harry’s cursing. 
“Oh- H, Sorry!” 
Nick’s wine glass that’d been balanced on the coffee table in front of him moments before now lays on its side. The, luckily white, wine trickles down onto the rug but most noticeably splashes into Harry’s lap. I’m not entirely sure how he managed it, it must have flown forwards when it was knocked but Harry quickly stands to access the damage. 
“I’m so sorry Harry I-” 
“Don’t worry mate, I’m just gonna go change and toss these in the wash..could you wipe that up for me?” Nick nods, looking a little less cheerful and a lot more guilty now as Harry makes it way out the room. He calls behind him: “Keep watching I’ll only be a second!” 
Nick finishes wiping down the table and rug just as Harry jogs back into the room. I don’t mean to and I’m never one to check people out..unless very subtly, but I can’t help but let my eyes linger a little. 
He’s still in his plain tee but instead of his fancy pants he’s found some soft wash denim jeans. The whole look paired with his thick rimmed glasses and how his hair’s gotten tousled about by Nick throughout the night just made him look so…ordinary. Not in any bad way, anyone who met Harry knew he could never be ordinary, no matter how casual he dressed, but something about seeing him abandon the more dressed up looks and go for the comfortable option just made him seem different. 
In a second his green eyes are complimenting the look too as he gazes down at me. 
“Hi,” He mouths, nobody’s taken much notice of his return, yet another musical number taking everyone’s attention. It’s my turn to blush a little now. I avert my eyes quickly, anywhere really, before sneaking a quick look up at him to smile back. 
Ellie had helped Nick in the “For fucksake save Harry’s rug it probably costs more than your car” mission and had stolen the seat beside him after they were done. It slipped my mind until Harry set the new bottle of wine on the table and sunk down into the space beside me, He curls one leg underneath him and slips me one more smile before turning back to the screen just as Donna and Sam start singing SOS.
… . . 
“Ah shit, I think I left my book!” I curse just as we make it down the road to Julia’s car. Parking was shit so by the time we found a spot we’d ended up a good 15 minutes away from Harry’s house. “You guys go on, I’m only round the corner anyway.” 
Theo and Julia were familiar with my stubbornness so let me go, yelling their goodbyes after a few hugs as they drove away, Ellie and Nick do the same as they clamber into a taxi. I turn quickly in the chilly air and make my way back down the street to Harry’s drive, punching in the familiar code at his gate before running up to the door hastily. 
It was open - as always, so I let myself in. He was probably still cleaning the lounge up after we all got a little too tipsy. 
“Hey it’s me…just left my book sorry!” I call down the hallway. It’s quiet despite the light Paul Simon playing in the distance so I make my way quickly to the sofas I’d spent most of the night on, praying to avoid an awkward run-in with Harry. 
Although we’d actually shared some light conversation throughout the night and a handful of smiles, I’m not sure we’re quite at the stage in our friendship that me more or less breaking into his house wouldn’t be awkward to run into. 
The lounge is empty when I get there. The side tables are still littered with wine glasses and tacky red rings on coasters but no Harry in sight. Or book for that matter. 
I start pulling back the cushions carefully - god knows how much they cost. Despite scouring the one spot I’d pretty much clung to the whole night -  incidentally beside Harry -  I have no luck. Nick tossed the book back to me at some point in the night after reading it by my recommendation but knowing him it could have ended up anyway. I follow the breadcrumbs of our night down another hallway as I vaguely remember Nick talking about a certain plot twist as we searched Harry’s kitchen cupboards for the wine he’d sent us off to restock. 
As I come around the white archway into his kitchen I catch a glimpse of him from around the kitchen island. He has his back turned to me but he’s leant forwards against a counter with ring covered fingers clutching the edge, a glass of amber liquid set slightly away from him. 
“Oh, sorry I was just-” He jumps a little at my voice, turning quickly to face me with his now free hands coming up to hold his chest. When his eyes finally meet mine they’re red and it takes a second for him to register the tears still streaming from them before he replies. 
“Shit, fu- what are you..are you alright?” His hands bat between tangling into his hair and wiping the tears from his cheeks, anything to avoid actually looking up at me again. 
“Yeah, I just..um..left my book,” I mumble, taking a step closer to him when I notice how his hands shake as they move timidly around his face. “Harry, what’s wrong?”
“Uuuh um.” He wanders for a moment before slapping a palm lightly atop the counter and pulling out his infamous grin. “Nothing much, how bout you - find your book?” 
“-Harry..” I take another step close, “I know we’re not, ya know..close. But you can talk to me.” 
There’s a beat of silence when he keeps up the act, I’d almost believe it if it wasn’t for his bloodshot eyes and anxious fingers drumming against the tile. 
“What’s wrong?” 
He pauses for a moment, assessing whether or not to tell me whatever’s weighing so heavy on his shoulders. But the dam bursts. 
“Fuckin’ everything Love” He laughs, rubbing his palms over his face. I try to focus on the matter at hand: Harry weeping in his kitchen. But that name’s only ever left his mouth directed at me a handful of times and it’s never made my stomach flutter quite as it did just now. “Just..Fuck I’m so lonely Olivia.” 
I don’t really know any of the details but between conversation - mostly overheard, and the media frenzy, it was hard not to be aware of Harry’s break up two months ago. I can’t claim we were close enough to discuss it, having hardly ever talked beyond trivial issues, but I knew that despite them only being together two or so months, he’d been incredibly distant for the weeks that followed the break up. 
“I hear about you and Aubre..I’m really sorry it didn’t work out for you guys-” Harry laughs almost, a pained sort of chuckle that told me I was way off with this one. 
“It’s not..that isn’t why I..” He takes a deep breath before lifting his head up slightly to focus on where his fingers still tapped out a nervous beat on the counter. “I was lonely before her…and with her. I just, I can’t seem to get it right ever…feels like nobody wants to be with me for the right reasons.” 
“Hey no..what about tonight? Your house was full of so many people who love you yeah? Maybe your bougie wine collection had something to do with it but still,” He laughs at that, peeking up from behind his fringe for just a moment. “They- we love you ‘k?” 
“I know but, ‘clock hits the am and everyone leaves, it just gets…it gets so fucking lonely to see everyone in perfect pairs ya know?” 
I don’t really know what I’m doing but I’m doing it - my arms wrap over his shoulders and lock with a hand at the nape of his neck. We’ve never hugged before beyond a general greeting but anyone watching wouldn’t know it, his face burrows quickly into my shoulder and his arms cocoon over my waist, holding me tightly and slipping under the thick layers of my jacket. 
“I know exactly what you mean, H.” 
The hug lasts longer than I imagined it might. He smells of vanilla and the coffee he brought back in bulk from Jamaica. He lets out a shaky breath and melts further into me, nuzzling my neck softly with the tip of his nose. His curls are soft between my fingers and I find myself shhing him, lulling us both into a tired kind of calm. 
Another moment passes in the silence of his kitchen before Harry lets out an awkward cough and straightens up, pulling out of our hold and immediately covering his face with his palms again. 
“I..sorry Jules and Theo must be waiting for you..” Harry murmured, wiping the last of his tears away and letting his hands fall and fidget by his sides. 
“Oh no don’t worry they..um they already went I was actually just gonna walk.” I tell him, making his head perk up a bit. 
“Wha-It’s past twelve Liv it’s not safe, how far do you even live?” He clears his throat and his voice is clearer now, it feels like a whole different world to the one we were in just a minute ago. 
“It’s fine honestly, only take like thirty minutes walking - I’ve done it before-” I ramble, eager to put this situation behind me before I embarrass myself anymore. 
“No - let me drive you yeah?” Harry shakes his head, adamant. 
“Harry..we’ve been drinking all night, I think that’s more dangerous than me jus’ walking.” I laugh, holding his gaze for a second longer than I usually would - fuck, how do we usually act around each other?
Before I come to a conclusion, his eyes rest heavy on mine and I can see the cogs turning in his brain as he tries to work his way out of this one. Ever the people pleaser. 
“Then stay.” 
“Harry-”
“You said you know how it feels.” He cuts in, unwavering now as he doesn’t let my eyes fall from his. “So stay …’s safer anyway.” 
… . . 
“I can take the sofa, really Harry I don’t mind,” I reassure as he tosses me an old t-shirt and joggers to sleep in. “It’s comfier than my bed anyway. 
His guest bedrooms had just been painted and were still pretty fume filled so the sofa or his bed were the only options. For twenty minutes now he’s tried to convince me to take his bed and leave him on the sofa, despite the fact we both know he’s a little too tall to sleep without his feet hanging off the end. 
“But you’re my guest!” He protests again, coming up from his wardrobe to stand in front of me, hand on hips and an expression of concern on his face. 
“And you’re almost six foot!” 
“Hey, I am six foot.” He takes a deep breathe, exhaling through his nose in defeat before speaking again. “Okay, you can sleep on the sofa but if anyone asks I was the perfect host and you bullied me into this.” 
I laugh softly, this whole new side of Harry had never been directed solely at me before and it was honestly refreshing. Usually Nick or another friend was the target of his jokes and playful demeanor and I only noticed it from afar but now he was right in front of me, hauling pillows off his bed and sticking his tongue out when he caught me staring. 
“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” He asks for the third time since I agreed to stay the night. We’ve just finished setting up the sofa to sleep on and despite the duvet and many quilts far more lush than my own actual bed, he seemed unconvinced it was enough. 
“I’m sure” I sit back into the pile of blankets and pillows, tucking my feet underneath me and looking back up at Harry. “If you’re really not, just come watch a film with me and see how cozy it is.” 
The quick change in dynamic was a lot smoother than I’d imagined. Within an hour of being alone together we’d already talked more than in all our past interactions, not to mention how close we’ve gotten. He only nods his head quickly and he’s settling under a quilt beside me, rummaging around for a controller to pull up netflix again. 
“Mamma Mia two?” He asks. 
I chuckle a bit and nod. At the beginning of the evening I hadn’t quite seen it ending in a Mamma Mia marathon with just me and Harry. 
He presses play and as the opening display begins we both lean back into the sofa and pull the blankets up over us. It’s only in the quiet of the first few scenes that I notice we’re matching. We’re both dressed fully in his clothes, grey joggers and t-shirt - his rolling stones, mine fleetwood mac. And it all smells of him. I pull the blanket a little higher over my chest and the faint, but now familiar, scent of vanilla and coffee fills my lungs and for a second all I can focus on is how desperately I want to be in his arms again. 
… . .
“-ow” A groggy voice mumbles from above me and I feel myself being pulled forwards slightly against something hard - and warm. 
I’m a few seconds from falling straight back asleep before I feel the painful ache in the side of my neck. I reach a hand up to gauge my current situation and feel my fingers plunging into soft hair - soft hair that ends too soon to be mine. 
“Hi..” I recoil my hand quickly back to my side and push myself up so I’m sitting slightly. I look down and see Harry, half asleep still and hand still resting on my side. 
“Oh-hey sorry,” What do you say when you wake up beside the guy you barely knew but simultaneously had been incredibly vulnerable with just the night before? 
Harry seems to be waking up now and certainly more aware of our predicament as he pulls his hand away from where it was holding firmly onto the material of my - his - t-shirt and pushes himself up to sit against the arm of the sofa. 
“We must have fallen asleep..sorry I didn’t mean too, ya know…” His eyes flutter between where I sit opposite him and the “Are you still watching?” Netflix screen. 
“It’s fine, accidents happen an’ everything.” I smile, slipping out from the warm cocoon of blankets to stand. “I’m just gonna wash up quickly and I’ll be out of you hair.” 
Before I can rush off to tame my hair and hopefully find some toothpaste to rid me of my morning breath, Harry clasps his hand gently around my wrist and tugs slightly to get my attention. 
“Not in a rush Love, I’ll make us some breakfast.” He says it effortlessly, like it was a regular occurrence for us to fall asleep cuddling on his sofa. He stands, groaning as his knees pop appreciatively and lets my hand go before he’s disappearing into the kitchen.
“Okay…” I murmur to myself. “….okay.” 
… . .  
Alice is back at my table with my second refill before 11am. I thank her and take a gulp of the fiery ginger tea before reading over the last three paragraphs I just wrote. The spice licks my tongue as I tip the cup up for a second sip; it’s autumn after all. 
In the last two weeks September had slipped into October and all the trees in London had received the memo. I’d been busy, hoaled up in the quietest corner of Blondies the whole time with coffee filling all my senses. I haven’t seen everyone together since that night at Harry’s. I grabbed lunch with Eleanor the Monday afterwards and told her nothing, preferring to avoid the texts my phone amassed over the fortnight. I’ve turned down all proposed group activities and focused on work instead. To be fair, I do have a lot to get done. There were always seasonal pieces in my to do list and with the weather getting colder it was time I got to them before it was Christmas already. 
I haven’t talked to Harry either. He made us pancakes with blueberries and maple syrup in the morning and we haven’t even texted since; I’m not sure that we even have a private text between us. Eleanor and Julia have told me how much fun they’ve all had the times I’ve politely but persistently declined, I can only assume Harry’s in the mix with them all. He’s in town for awhile if I’m remembering our breakfast chatter correctly, it makes sense that they’re all hanging out together really when they don’t often get time together. Ellie’s phone calls keep me from sliding into thoughts of how easily I could fall right out of the group and not be missed, at least. I was just taking space for work. The fact that most of my afternoons at the cafe disappeared into me analysing anything I might ever have felt or said to Harry means nothing at all. 
Neither does the heightened pace of my heartbeat when he walks through the stiff wooden  doors of Blondies. 
He orders what I assume is his regular black coffee, scans the room for a second and lands directly on me. He hesitates a little to hold my gaze, turning his head to look outside before looking back at me and smiling. He thanks the server and takes a few quick steps towards me, weaving in between the packed tables to my little spot hidden away in the corner. 
“Hi,” He smiles again, although his toneos overshadowed by a slight anxious hilt. “Can I sit?” 
Nodding, I close my laptop and pull my tea closer to me to make a space for him. 
“Hi.” He repeats, smiling a little sheepishly. 
“Hi,” I wait a second, nervous to start when I’m so unsure of how this conversation has already gone in his head. But he doesn’t say anything so I push through and bite the bullet against my better judgement. “Look, about that Friday I-”
“Can I just-” He cuts me off, leaning forwards and opening his hands out as he mulls over his next few words. “I’m sorry if it was awkward at all, I didn’t mean for anything to happen and I thought we were fine an’ everything but then I haven’t seen you in two weeks and Ellie keeps saying you’re not comin’ out. Did I do something wrong?” 
“Oh god no,” I hurry, “You didn’t do anything it was just - I didn’t expect to wake up..like that…and it was just a really quick change because we’ve never really been close and suddenly it was just, us, like that.” 
He nods, pushing a loose curl back a second later that broke free in the motion. He seems understanding as he looks down before leaning his elbows against the table so only the two of us can hear what he’s about to say. 
“I know, I didn’t expect it either but, can I just tell you I’m glad that it happened?” He leaves a three second pause for me to flounder in confusion before continuing. “What I told you, ‘bout feeling lonely, it messes with my sleep all the time. I just get stuck in my own thoughts but the night you stayed over I slept fine - perfect even.”
Not sure what else to do with this new information, I nod for him to continue.
“I know we’ve never been close, but hanging out with you just really calmed me down.” He smiles, gaining confidence now in his vulnerability tucked away in our little hiding place. “Thank you for staying.” 
“I get what you mean.” I mumble, slightly anxious any of the busy customers with prying eyes could overhear my confession. “I never really know when to stop working and I think I got the best night sleep on your sofa I’ve had in awhile, which really speaks volumes about how crappy my mattress is.”  
He chuckles. Relief seems to settle in as he lets his shoulders relax and face soften. 
“I was thinking - especially now that I know it was good for you as well, maybe it could become more of a regular thing?” He asks, his forefinger and thumb pinch together and twist one of his rings a little - a nervous habit, I’m sure. 
“How do you mean?” 
“Like..when we all go out, maybe we go home together, you know - so we can sleep better.” He moves down to focus on the metal rose he’s still fumbling at. “If..if you don’t want to or you think it’d be weird it’s fi-” 
“I’d like that.” I reach forwards to comfort him, absentmindedly cupping my fingers around his. “I think it’d be nice, to get a good night’s sleep I mean.” 
“I’m glad.” He beams.
“..That and you make a mean blueberry pancake.” I tease, earning a light chuckle from Harry. 
Just like our last cafe encounter, the ping of a his phone beats me to my new few words. He checks it quickly, shaking his head and glancing down the large room to the shop front where, once again, Jeff waits. He seems a little more agitated this time, waving vigorously whilst trying not to attract the attention of passersby, all  rather unsuccessfully. 
“Bollocks okay - I’ve gotta go,” Harry swears, collecting his coffee from the table and pushing his chair back quickly. “I’ll just - we can text before we go out next yeah?” 
“Cool, yeah - wait a sec, let me just give you my number.” I reach up for him to hand me his phone but he doesn’t make any effort to move, instead he blushes slightly and stares at the floor. “..What?” 
“I um, I already have it.” He fiddles with the hair at the nape of his neck before talking again. It’s hard not to remember how it felt when it was my fingers carding through his brown curls. “I got it from Theo awhile back when we were going to this thing, felt weird not having it. I hope that..okay and everythin’” 
I nod, smiling up at him. The idea of him having a part of me for this past year without me even knowing is oddly precious. The fact that he felt odd about not having my number and going to the effort of getting it from Theo was unbelievably endearing. 
“That’s fine, helpful actually.” I smile still, “Text me before we meet everyone and we’ll make a plan or somethin’” 
“Okay,” He smirks, his slight cocky nature reemerging. “Will do, Liv. See you soon?” 
“See you soon.” 
Jeff flies a hand up to his hair like before but this time is met with a grinning Harry who doesn’t seem to mind so much. 
… . . 
Unknown Number 
‘Hey! Is tonight good? We can slip off after drinks at the gallery. H x’ 
I look down at my phone. Caught off guard by the sudden text, I’d almost forgotten out arrangement. Julia invited us all to a gallery opening of one of her friend’s new exhibits. Even as I flicked through my wardrobe for the right jacket, I hadn’t put two and two together and realised I’d be seeing Harry again for the first time since our chat at Blondies four days ago. 
I save his number and I think quickly, not wanting to leave him on read when he knew I’d be leaving to see them all any second and most likely spend the whole tube journey on my phone. 
‘Hi :) That’d work for me yh, just let me know when you want to leave and I’ll make an excuse. Liv x’ 
With another thought rushing through my head, I send a quick follow up. 
Me
‘Can we keep this between us right now? Might be a bit tricky to explain to the others.” 
Harry
‘Read my mind love.’
‘See you in a bit :)’ 
I’m still not the hugest fan of the airy feeling that rushed through my stomach as I read over the pet name. He was just from Manchester, it was normal up there to call everything by casually affectionate little names. It didn’t mean anything at all. 
… . . 
“Livia!” Nick calls out when he sees me scanning over the faces at the entrance to the gallery. I smile instantly and make my way over, quickly falling into his arms as he rocks us for a second. “Haven’t seen you in an age!” 
“‘Ve been working, we can’t all piss about Monday to Friday.” I giggle, smiling wide as he murmurs something under his breath and plants a big kiss on my cheek. “Is everyone here?” 
I try not to look suspicious when I peak over around us, trying to pick a certain brunette from the crowd.
“Yeah, they’re just over there with Julia’s friend.” Nick points and I see him immediately. He’s dressed just as I expected - half gucci half grandpa sweaters. “I’m gonna get us drinks, meet you there?” 
“Mhmmm” I hum, breaking out of his hold and slipping through the crowds to our small group of friends. 
“Hi!” Julia smiles brightly. She hugs me quickly before stepping aside to give Eleanor and Theo their turns. They all whisper quiet ‘Missed yous’ in my ear as if I’ve been gone for years. 
“Hey,” Harry appears by my side as everyone else turns their attention to the front of the crowd where it looks like the artist is setting up to introduce the night. “How’ve you been?” 
“In the last four days?” I chuckle, “Good. Not been sleeping great, but I’ve got a lot of work done so that’s been great.” 
He nods approvingly. A smile tugs at his lips at the mention of sleep, almost like some secret inside joke we’ve managed to form between just the two of us. 
“Me neither. Jeff’s been buggin’ me what feels like every hour with deadlines.” I find myself squeezing his hand a little under his long coat sleeves so nobody can see. “Looking forward to just collapsing tonight, if I’m honest.” 
“Me too.” I smile tiredly, tonight had been a big ask come to think of it. I’ve had work piled up twice my height all week and even having worked day in and day out I’ve still only made a crack in the mountain of final edits and emails to respond to.
Harry squeezes my fingers back and our hands linger in each other’s hold until Nick emerges beside us and the artist begins her speech. 
… . .
 The comfortable chatter surrounding the booth we’d taken up a few hours ago died down as the clock ticked later and later. We’d left the gallery a while ago now in favour of the after party at a pub down the road but by now the heavy scent of beers and various gin based concoctions were giving us all headaches. 
“I think I’m gonna call it a night guys,” Harry announces, a slew of groans following from the group. “Sorry, sorry! It’s been great but it’s getting late.” 
Julia and Theo move out the way to let him out the booth. He slides across the red cushion to stand, pulling his coat over himself as he sneaks a quick look at me. 
“I think I’m gonna head off too,” I smile, waiting for Eleanour to stand and let me out as another wave of complaints flooded me. “Sorry! I’ve got work and the tube’ll be hell any later.” 
“Well if Harry’s going too couldn’t he take you home?” Julia suggests, looking between the two of us as we now stand slightly away from each other. “You drove right?” 
“Yeah, I did.” Harry turns to smile at me, amused clearly by how our plan was being unknowingly encouraged by our friends. “C’mon, I’ll drive yeh.” 
I nod, biting back a smirk. We say our goodbyes and wave as we slip out the heavy pub doors out onto the road outside. It’s started to drizzle slightly and I resent choosing the jacket without a hood. 
“I’m just over here,” Harry points a little ways off. “Hurry, think it’s about to pour.” 
We walk quickly down the street and through a metal gate into a car park when there’s a loud rumble of thunder and immediately the rain thickens. 
“Fuck!” Harry laughs as he scrambles for his keys, we match each other’s paces until we’re practically sprinting to his car in the far corner of the lot. The click of the locks sounds out and his lights flash red a second before we’re both pulling the doors open and throwing ourselves inside onto warm seats. 
We catch our breath, chests rising and falling with uneven pants before our laughter settles and Harry slots the keys into the ignition. 
… . . 
“Do you want anything to eat?” Harry asks as he closes his front door behind us and we kick out shoes off in his hall. “I think I have some takeout menus somewhere..” 
“I’m not really hungry, thanks though,” I cut off his search as he walks through to his kitchen and starts opening draws. “Kinda just wanna go to bed now.” 
He nods and rubs a hand under his eye in silent agreement of my exhaustion.
“I’ll make us a tea, meet you up there yeah?” He calls over his shoulder, having turned quickly to retrieve various packets from his cupboards. “Chamomile okay?” 
“Yeah chamomiles good,” I hover for a second in the archway leading into the kitchen, suddenly awkward to be alone in his house again. “Where um..where is it?” 
He looks over his shoulder at me, slightly confused. His eye brows unfurrow when I motion behind me. 
“Oh- just up the stairs and third room down the hall..on the left.” He smiles, turning back to the cupboard to look through his extensive mug collection. 
I nod to myself, spinning on my heel and making my way up his stairs. I’ve never gone beyond the downstairs of his house before and even then I stuck to the kitchen, dining room and lounge. It felt odd to suddenly have access to something as intimate as his bedroom, I try not to overthink things as I push open the third door I see.
The first thing I see is his large bed, there’s probably enough room for three people on it and there’s definitely enough pillows to go around. The room as a whole is tidy, whether it’s always like that or only organised so precisely for my visit, I don’t know, but the thought makes my stomach flutter. 
I walk up to the side of the bed with no charger on it’s table and set my bag down. We hadn’t talked about the logistics of our…arrangement, but I’d brought the basics to last me through the night. I plug my charger into the wall and take out my wash bag and a set of clothes to sleep in before sliding my bag under the table. I look around for a second. Somehow I hadn’t really thought through the fact that by the end of the night, I’d be in Harry’s bed. With Harry. In a completely platonic way with the only function to soothe our mutually crappy sleeping habits. 
I hear Harry walking up the stairs just as I slip into the un suit to wash up and get changed. He’s humming a song under his breath. The clink of mugs being set down is followed by wardrobe doors opening and closing and a light thud of clothes being thrown on the bed. 
I wait a few minutes to make sure I don’t walk in on him changing. Opening the door tentatively, I step out into the room in a large sweater and pajama shorts. Harry turns to look at me, he’s in the same t-shirt he wore last time and a pair of boxer shorts and the whole situation suddenly seems so amusing. After just one night of falling asleep on the sofa together, not having ever talked before, here we are standing at our most vulnerable about to cuddle in his bed together.
“Hi.” 
“Hey,” He nods, looking down at himself. “Hope this is okay…I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or-” 
“It’s fine,” I reassure him, “I didn’t really know what to wear either.” 
His eyes flicker down my body and he smiles back up at me. He motions to the bed and we both nod a little awkwardly before making our way over to our sides. I climb in and instantly let a small groan out as my body sinks into the mattress, the pillows and duvet feel almost like a cloud as I burrow under and pull my tea up to my lips. 
Harry chuckles from beside me, I peak over the mug to seem him grinning down from where he sits slightly taller in the bed.
“Sorry, you look comfy.” He laughs a little, 
“I am, your bed’s insane.” I set my mug down and turn to him, bouncing slightly to emphasise the quality of his mattress that probably cost more than a year of my rent. “I really should start earning millions, feel like it’d suit me.” 
He returns his tea to the bedside table and copies me, turning to face me with his legs crossed. 
“It definitely would.” He smiles, bouncing a little before I let out a yawn. “Tired?” 
“Exhausted.” I mumble, hand still covering half my face. Harry reaches behind him to turn to switch the lights above his headboard off before pulling the duvet back for us to slip under.
“C’mere,” Without hesitating, I shuffle back slightly until I can feel his chest behind me and an arm come up to rest around my hip. “‘This okay?” 
“Mhmmm,” I hum, “What about our teeth?”
“We’ll brush ‘em in the morning,” I nod, groaning again as all the aches in my body subside as I sink into his arms and the foam mattress. “You okay?” 
“Yeah,” I mumble, embarrassed to have let myself go so easily around him. “Your mattress is just unbelievable. Might have to make this a regular thing.” 
I speak before I think, mind clouded with sleep and my eyes already fighting to stay open. 
“That’s the plan, love.” 
… . . 
When I wake up, Harry’s arms are tight around my middle and his body’s like a furnace behind me. I vaguely recall pulling my sweater off in the night to cool down as I lay now only in a vest and shorts. I slept better than I have in months though, despite the warm breaths on my neck turning my cheeks flushed. 
The mix of Harry’s company and his safe haven of a mattress made for the perfect night sleep. I push back slightly into his chest and feel his arms tighten around me and a low murmur of his voice in my ear. The clock on my bedside table reads 6:30. It’s a Saturday and I can quite easily imagine spending the rest of my day - weekend even, exactly like this. 
I slip back to sleep for a little awhile before I’m woken up to a low groan behind me. Harry shifts slightly, burying his face in the base of my neck and squeezing around my waist again. He must still be half asleep to be this comfortable with me. 
I’m proven right when it takes another fifteen minutes for him to poke his head up over my shoulder and mumble: 
“Breakfast?” 
… . . 
Our routine works smoothly for weeks. After sleeping so well the first few times, it became a given that we’d pile into Harry’s car after every night out with our friends and go back to his. Sometimes we’d get takeout or watch a film, but it wasn’t so rare that we’d just stumble out of his car, or a taxi - depending what the night had entailed, and walk with eyes almost closed straight to bed. 
I stopped bringing things every night about two weeks in when a new toothbrush appeared next to Harrys and an oversized t-shirt of Harrys found its way onto my side of the bed. We also ditched the awkward pleasantries. Spending two or three nights a week in his house, I’d become pretty familiar with it all. I sometimes brought us breakfast if it was a weekend, or left a coffee beside the bed for him if I left for work first, We had very easily slipped into an oddly familiar sense of domesticity. It was strange to never mention any of it to our friends, it made it special though. We helped each other, and it was all just between the two of us. Nobody else knew Harry taught me how to make coffee just the way he likes it, or that we share his lavender shampoo sometimes. 
“Ols?” Harry calls up the stairs to me. We’re running late to Julia and Theos anniversary dinner. 
“Coming!” I yell back, reaching into his wardrobe to snatch a jacket before running down the stares. 
“Oi! Slow down love, you’re gonna fall,” He complains, holding his hands out at the bottom of the stairs to catch me as I skid a little on the wooden floors of his hallway. “Hey! This’s mine!” 
He tugs playfully on the opening of his jacket. I pull the fabric from his grasp and smile up at him. 
“Not anymore…” He scrunches his nose up and pulls me towards him. The sudden movement pushed the air from my lungs suddenly. “-Fine! Just for tonight…nobody’ll notice anyway, you only just got his one.” 
He shakes his head, bringing his fingers up to tickles across my stomach quickly before letting me go and clapping his hands. 
“Shoes now!” He points down at my sock clad feet, “Come on we’re late already.” 
I sling my bag over my shoulder and slip my boots on before trailing after him to the front door. He’s pulled his large green coat off the hangar before he’s looking back down at me, brows pulled together in confusion. 
“What’ve got yeh bag for?” 
“Ah see Harry, I tend not to leave my stuff places I don’t actually live.” I laugh.
“You’re not coming back tonight?” The confusion’s not joined by a hint of sadness as his hands fall from the door knob and he turns to face front on. 
“Oh I..hadn’t thought ‘bout that. I’ve gotta water my plants.” I haven’t been home in two days, I spent the whole day at Blondies yesterday then headed to Harry’s after a few drinks with him and Nick. We’ve hung out around his house all day, sleeping in and finishing our last few bits of work for the week. “I can let them go a little dry I guess-” 
“Can I come to yours?” Harry cuts me off to ask. “It’s just, I haven’t ever seen it..and that way your plant’ll be fine.” 
I stay quiet for a second. Our world of sleepovers and movie marathons and home made curries for dinner existed within his house. My flat was small in comparisons to the homes of our friends, who were all, delicately put, pretty well off. Not that I wasn’t, I’d just gone into a lower paying area of my industry. I lived alone anyway so there wasn’t much point paying thousands in rent when I didn’t need much space. 
“It’s fine it you want a night to yourself I can just-” 
“It’s not that, H, I just didn’t really think about how we only ever come here.” I mumble the last part, “Come back to mine, I don’t feel like going back on my own anyways.” 
I smile a little, unsure of where we stand on the whole admitting we’d grown pretty dependent on each other’s presence, front. He smiles back, twisting the door open and holding it for me as I slip under his arm. 
The car clicks unlocked and I settle into my seat. I reach over to push my seat belt in as Harry pulls his door shut and the car rumbles to a start. 
“Can’t believe Jules and T have been together so long.” He sighs as we pull out onto the main road. 
“Tell me about it,” I gaze out the window as rain dribbles lightly. “Feels like the year just went straight by.”
“They seem so happy still, like they’re still honeymooning,” Harry hums. 
“I remember when they just started going out in Uni, even then it was obvious they’d end up together.” 
“I like those kinds of people. The ones who make each other just completely themselves, ya know?” He glances over at me before turning back to the road. 
“Yeah…they’re proper soulmates aren’t they.” 
… . . 
“Okay but seriously, what the fuck is up with you and Harry?” Eleanor bursts out as soon as we reach the bar. We’ve been sent off to get the third round whilst the others stayed at our favourite booth of the pub we frequented. 
“Wait what?” I yell over the loud chatter of the pub, “What do you mean?” 
“You know what I mean!” She’s still waving her hand out for the bartender when she glances down at me again. “You’re tryna say you’re suddenly so close and nothing’s happened between you?” 
“We’re not that close.” I quip, “We’ve just talked a bit more lately, I guess.”
“And nothing’s happened?”  She raised a brow at me suspiciously. “You guys have left together every night for the past few weeks, just admit you have feelings for each other.” 
“No, nothing’s happened.” I sigh, unsure if I sound convincing or not. “We just live close and it’s too cold now to get the tube back so late, he’s just being nice. You know Harry…he’s like that with everyone.” 
Eleanor laughs a little, shaking her head. She places our order with the bartender when he makes his way to our side of the bar before turning back to me with her arms crossed. 
“He’s nice to everyone, but he’s not just being nice to you.” She smirks, “And he usually doesn’t give just anybody his clothes.” 
She reaches out and rubs the fabric of my - Harrys - jacket between her thumb and forefinger. She looks up and quirks her brows up a little again. Before I can splutter out an explanation our drinks are being laid out on the counter beside us and Eleanor is pointing to the ones for me to carry and turning back to our booth. 
A surge of anxiety washes over me as I follow Eleanor back to the group. My breaths feel unsteady and I can’t help but dart my eyes to get a quick glance at Harry to see if he’s experiencing the same kind of interrogation. He seems fine though, laughing at something Nicks said. 
Soon we’re at the booth, slipping back into our seats and setting the drinks out in front of everyone. Harry’s eyes hover on me for a few seconds, brows raised a little in question. I smile and shake my head - everything’s fine. 
I don’t miss how Eleanor glances between us throughout the whole night. Especially not when a different two get up for the next round and Harry and I are pushed next to each other when they climb back into the available seats. Harry seems a little suspicious too. He clearly hasn’t noticed Eleanor’s strange behaviour - or doesn’t care - because he’s kept gazing down at me every now and then since we came back with drinks hours ago. When I stop looking up at him, nervous Eleanor might question me about his constant and slightly nervous glances when we’re alone, he reaches his hand under the tables and pulls mine into his lap. He squeezes our hands every now and then. He’s always a touchy, cuddly drunk. Normally it’s a bit more obvious; he’ll wrap his arms around one of us on the dance floor or lap his head on a shoulder, nothing too intimate. Just friendly. But now he’s stroking his thumb over my knuckles and tapping out the beat of the current song playing with his foot, his knee bumping mine. 
Julia and Theo are the first to go. Relief settles in me at the idea of not being the first two to leave for once. There’s no way Eleanor wouldn't’ve have noticed me and Harry sneaking the other a glance like we usually do to signal we’re ready to go, without some kind of distraction. 
“It was so lovely guys, feels like we haven’t just sat down and talked in so long!” Julia smiles, leaning into Theos side tiredly as they say their goodbyes. 
“I think I’m gonna head off too, it’s getting pretty late,” I smile, waiting for Harry to speak when Theo pipes up before him. 
“Livs, you want a lift?” Theo looks down at me. 
“Oh Olivia, that’s a good idea, you were just saying how it’s too cold for the tube.” Eleanor beams, smiling cheekily as she knows I’m the only one who’ll understand her subtle teasing. 
“Oh I-” I stutter before Harry’s squeezing my hand again and looks up at Theo. 
“I was actually gonna take her home, we’re only 10 minutes apart so it’s just easier.” He smiles politely, if I couldn’t feel his foot hooking over mine I’d believe he was just being nice and helping out a friend. 
“Yeah but you’re gonna stay a little while aren’t you?” Julia countered, “We’re pretty close, it’s fine really.” 
I nod, motioning to slide out of the booth. Harry lets me by, dropping my hand before anyone else could see. Julia, Theo and I say goodbye quickly and head out to the car park. As soon as we’re all strapped into their car, I pull out my phone and click Harry’s contact. 
Me 
Meet me at mine x
Harry 
Okay - what was that about? 
Me 
I’ll explain when u get here, just something w Eleanor
U might have been right about the jacket :/ 
Theo pulls up outside my flat and I jump out the car, thanking them quickly and waving them off. I climb the stairs of my building and click the keys in my door, pushing it open and kicking my shoes off the second I get in. After a fifteen minute frantic clean, the place is looking slightly better. There’s no time to perfect it as I hear my phone buzzing on the counter, a dorky photo of Harry in one of his infamous sweaters all sprawled out on the sofa and sticking his tongue out at me flashes the screen. 
“Hello?” 
“Hey, I’m just outside,” He talks softly, “What number are you?” 
“24, wait a sec and I’ll buzz you up.” 
I tread quickly to the button by my front door and let him up, hearing a quiet thanks over the phone and a “See you in a sec”  before the line goes dead. 
A minute later there’s a quiet knock at my door. I open it and see Harry, he looks a little more tired than when I left him forty minutes ago, he rubs his knuckles under his eyes and sighs softly. 
“Hey, come in.” I pull the door a little wider, stepping aside to let him inside. He walks past me, eyes watching the floor whilst I lock the up behind us and turn to face him. There’s an awkward tension in the air that I haven’t experienced with Harry before, maybe a little that first night when I walked in on him in his kitchen, but nothing like this since we’ve gotten closer.  
“What happened?” He asks quietly, lifting his head with an uncertain look on his face.”You barely even looked at me. 
“I..” I stumble over what to say, I’ve been thinking I could just explain what Eleanor had said and have it done with but now I know we’re not going to be able to just leave this. If somebody’s going to find out about our arrangement then something would have to change. “Ellie thinks there’s something going on with us and she kept staring all night. I just, I couldn’t give her anything to be suspicious about.” 
“S’that what you mean about the jacket?” I nod, “What did she say?” 
“Just that we seemed closer, talk more I guess.” I sigh, “She didn’t believe anything I said.” 
“What did you say?” He presses. His tone is unclear, he seems less hurt now and more focussed on getting answers from me. 
“I just, I told her nothing’s happened.” I mumble, “She asked about us leaving together and I told her it was just because we lived close and it’s easier than the tube.” 
Harry bobs his head a little, taking in what I’ve just told him before laughing a little. He shakes his head and brings his palms up to his face, cursing under his breath. We stand in the quiet of my hallway before he speaks up again.
“Can we still do this?” That catches me off guard. Of course I knew we’d have to stop sometime when one of us started dating or a friend found out, I just hadn’t thought seriously about it happening anytime soon. “If she does find out, would that be the worst thing in the world?”
I shake my head, taking a step towards him to close the gap between us that’d been building my nerves throughout this whole exchange. 
“I don’t wanna stop hanging out.” I confess. Harry quirks his lips up a little, obviously relieved as he pulls me to his chest. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and rests his chin on my head as we breathe together for a moment. All the while we’ve been spending nights at his, there’s been no serious moments like this. We’ve opened up about vulnerable subjects and confessed more than we probably should have to each other, but never anything like this. There’d never been a  time I thought I could lose him. 
“What if something did happen.” He whispers into my hair. 
“Like what?” I murmur, voice a little muffled by his jacket. 
“Like..” He trails off a little and I’m pretty sure I hear him inhale a little and smell my hair. “Like what if I kissed you..or something.” 
“Or something?” My chest tightens, stomach fluttering suddenly. 
“Mmhhhmm,” He hums, “What would happen then?” 
“Eleanor would have a field day.” 
Harry laughs, shoulders shaking a little as he giggles above me. He loosens his grip on my and pushes away to create a little space to see me again. 
“Oh yeah?” He teases. 
“Uh huh,” I smile, “She’d never let us forget it if she knew she was right.” 
“And what would she be right about?” Harry lifts his hand to cup my face, tilting it slightly to make sure I’m staring right up at him. 
“..Something..happening.” I whisper, “Having feelings for eachother.” 
Harry grins, cheeks a soft rosy between the outside cold and the new blush. He strokes the pad of his thumb against my cheek and beams down at me. 
“Oh yeah?” 
“Uh huh…” 
“Really..she’d be right about that?” 
“I’m pretty sure-” 
Before I can tease anymore, Harry’s leaning down to press his lips against mine. I inhale sharply, closing my eyes and looping my arms around the back of his neck to hold us in place. His hand still holds my face firmly, thumb fluttering over my cheek a couple times before he pulls away and we both breathe in deep. 
“She’s definitely right.” He smiles, tone turning serious for a moment. “I really like you Olivia.” 
Butterflies surge through my stomach for the millionth time since he walked through my door. Blushing and happy, I tighten my arms and push my face back into his shoulder. 
“I like you too H….just a little bit.” 
“We don’t have to tell anyone, just want this to be ours for a little while.” I can hear the smile in his voice as he leans back down to whisper into my ear. 
“I want this to be ours forever.” I hum, words quiet and part of me hoping he doesn’t hear my honest confession. 
A comforting quiet settles over us. I remember how tired I really am as I melt further into Harry’s body, breathing in the sweet cinnamon and vanilla scent. His breathing lulls me half to sleep as I let my eyes flutter shut and bury my head further into his neck. I feel him lifting me up as my body relaxes against his and I catch his last few words before I he’s shifting me into his arms and walking us up the stairs. 
“I could hold you ‘n listen to your voice all night long, love.” 
… . .    
“Oh my god!” Julia yells out, unravelling a long shawl from pristine white tissue paper. “Okay whoever got me, thank you so much!” 
She continues to squeal a little as he wraps it over her shoulders and presses the end to her nose, inhaling the lavender scent of her favourite designer brand. 
I’d only spent one Christmas with the whole group before but it was clear secret Santa was a bit of a tradition. Between the six of us we all had other friends, family and mostly, relationships. Organising a secret santa within our group just relieved some of the stress of present buying - and it was fun. 
We’re all sitting around Harry’s living room, it felt the homiest  to us after all. The kiddy advent calendar I bought for him hung by the fireplace reading December 21st. We’ve all finished our egg nogs, meaning it was officially present time. Over the next few days we’ll all be driving up and down the country to visit family, meaning today’s the last day most of us will be seeing each other. Harry had whined about me leaving, begging me to stay another day with him or better yet - spend christmas with his family up north. 
It was when I told him my own parents were spending the holidays visiting my sister and her kids in New York that his campaign started. We kissed almost three months ago now and have been on a slew of dates since. Between all the secret dinners out, brunches and farmers market trips, we haven’t found time for the talk. We had no official title. I’ve heard Harry refer to me as “m’girl” a couple times when I’ve wandered into the kitchen and overheard him on the phone to mitch, but nothing he’s told me himself. Despite this, he still insists I have to come and spend christmas with him and his close family. The idea of me hanging out with my young cousins and distant relatives apparently doesn’t satisfy him. 
“Are you serious!” Eleanor gasps as she unwraps her own present. Everyone had picked the perfect gifts for each other this year. In a pure coincidence, I ended up with Harry’s name after Nick made me trade because he’d already bought Julia’s present for her. I’ve been nervous about it all evening, I was sure he’d like it, a little too sure. That was the problem. One night, wrapped up in Harry’s bed, he’d recalled his latest tragedy to me: He’d taken shroom with Mitch on his last trip to LA and subsequently decided to skinny dip in the sea, losing his favourite mustard cords in the process. The only times we’ve seen everyone else has been with the both of us present and , to my knowledge, he hasn’t mentioned this to anyone else. The brown paper package that sat on the coffee table could invite a few more questions that I was prepared to answer. 
“Harry, you’re next!” Ellie grinned, hugging her present to her chest. 
Thanks to our early secrecy, there’s been no opportunity to tell our friends we were dating. Eleanor hasn’t stopped her constant questioning but we’ve kept up a pretty good front of excuses. It was still freezing out so it made sense for us both to climb into his car together at the end of the night. Nobody had to know we would be going home to the same house where we’d climb into the same heavenly bed and scramble eggs together in the morning. 
“I’m going, I’m going!” Harry laughs as Ellie tries to hurry him up, playing perfectly into her role as the youngest in our group. 
He pulls the first fold of paper back with his ringed fingers and immediately looks up at me as the mustard fabric shines up at him. He grins wide, beaming back at me before pulling the rest of the paper back and laying the trousers out in front of him. 
“No babe…where did you find them?” He’s running his fingers down the cord, in awe to have his favorite trousers back - or at least a copy. 
I don’t miss how Eleanor and Nick’s heads turn to share a look of shock as the pet name tumbles out. Before I can put anything together, Harry’s standing and leaning over the coffee table. He wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a hug and whispering his thanks in my ear. 
“Wait I dont - how did you know it was h-” Julia pipes up, before she can finish she’s cut off by the joint gasps of Nick and Ellie as Harry plants a wet kiss to my cheek - then my lips, and laughs at our friends reaction. 
“I knew it!” Ellie yells, pointing frantically between the two of us, Harry now having stepped over the table and come to sit next to me, pulling me into his side.
“What was-” Julia stammers, “Since when!” 
Harry’s eyes flutter down to my face. He giggles quietly when he catches on to my glare. This wasn’t exactly how I’d imagined the evening going. 
“Have you just been lying to my face for the past three months?” Ellie asks, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting her lips. 
“Five,” Harry mumbles, almost just as an inside joke for the both of us to enjoy. I slap my hand against his shoulder to shut him up but the damage is already done. 
“Five months!” Even Theo’s joining in now. “How didn’t we know?” 
“It didn’t start out like this honestly, we would’ve told you.” I try and explain, eager for this to quiet down so we could get to the roast dinner waiting for us in the oven. 
“How did it start?” Nick pokes, drawing Julia and Ellie’s attention as the same puzzled expressions adorn their faces. 
“Unimportant,” Harry brushes off, standing up to tower over us all and reaching a hand back for my own. “We better get dinner, we wouldn’t want burnt potatoes.” 
Harry pulls on my arm gently, leading me out the room before anyone can object. 
In the kitchen, he picks up a tea towel and starts to check on the food, prodding at the parsnips. I roll my eyes as he ties his lavender apron around his waist and tentatively pulls the potato tray from the oven. 
“Harry..” I sigh, trying not to laugh as he turn to face me, spatula in hand. 
“Yes dear?”  
“What was that?” 
“Oh - You’ve gotta shimmy a little spatula under the potatoes or they’ll break apart-” 
“No, obviously not that,” He makes it so hard so stay stern, a giggle leaks out as he lifts a hand to rest on his hip. “Why did you do that?” 
“I want them to know.” drops his utensils, tone sincere as he takes another step towards me. “I want our friends to know how much I love you already, and you remember about my mustard cords so..it felt like the perfect time.” 
“What?” I stutter, looking up at him from where he’s pulled me into his chest. His hands rest on my waist, rings a little hold against my exposed skin. 
“You remembered the trousers I lost last month in LA -”
“You love me?” 
His eyes go a little wide, a smile peaking through as the sides of his mouth quirk upwards. Realising what he just said, he lifts a hand from my waist to rest it against my face and lean down a little. 
“Of course I love you.” He whispers, his voice a little croaky and I can see tiny droplets gathering in his eyes that make my heart flutter. 
“Love you too..” I mumble. I wipe a thumb over his cheek before pulling him down into a kiss. I feel his smile against my own, and everything’s perfect for just a second. 
“So you’ll come to christmas with me?” 
… . .
Hiii I hate the ending :)
Tysm for reading !! pls leave a like or reblog (it rlly helps <3) if you enjoyed it x
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pinencurls · 4 years
Text
“I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”
Hiii so this is my entry to @stellarboystyles‘s three year anniversary fic challenge! I’ve been busy with getting ready for classes starting and balancing other stuff so I wrote it on and off for a week and a bit but I hope you all enjoy! Feedback is so so encouraged and appreciated <3 
Here’s my masterlist of some other stuff I’ve written x 
Enemies (more like friends but oops) to lovers, prompt 9 “I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”
14k+ :) Not read through sorry! pls let me know of any mistakes and I’ll correct them <3 (also i k n o w the title's bad but i couldn’t think of anything, pls feel free to leave any recs.)
- - - - 
It isn’t that I hate Harry. He just makes me feel...insecure. He’s never said or done anything directly but it’s hard to feel good about yourself when all your closest confidants seem to compare you to somebody else, somebody they so clearly hold higher above you. There wasn’t a single day I could meet a mutual friend of mine and Harry’s and not have them sing his praises, and apparently everyone was a mutual friend. I’ve known Julia and Theo for years, we all met in uni when they first started going out but it wasn’t until a year ago that I somehow ended up finding myself a regular within the friendship group they’d formed when they both went into the music and fashion industries. They had ties everywhere and after a pure coincidence of running into them and their circle at a pub, almost all my weekends were spent in various art galleries or new restaurants owned by somebody’s cousin or the guy they met last night at a Fleetwood Mac concert. 
I’d met Harry about five months into hanging out with the group. He’d known them a lot longer than I had, weaving his way into the little pockets of interesting people for years since the x factor. I was busy with work the first few times he was in town but after a while, Nick, the persistent party planner of the group who always managed to wrangle us together, insisted that I just had to meet him.                  . . . . . 
Eleanor’s house is huge and buzzing with hundreds of strangers. I cling to Julia and Theo’s side, Nick and Eleanor are nowhere in sight - most likely playing host or drinking too much chardonnay in another corner of the house. These four are the only people I can say I really know here, sure there are a few familiar faces on the dance floor, either from having met them at any of Eleanor's past elaborate parties or just because of they’re not so subtle fame. That’s another thing, all the people sipping wine and dancing around me are fairly...well known. Either just within the industry or to the general public too, they’d all gain fairly high status. It was a fluke really that I got on so well with Julia when we first met on a fashion course in uni. 
Julia had big goals, all of which she was on track to fulfil, that conflicted slightly with mine. Her goals consisted of runway show models clad in designer brands she might one day contribute to whereas mine were more...anti, that whole world. It took a few years to find a steady footing but eventually, I was proud of where I’d ended up: a comfortable little cubby in the fashion and sustainability columns of a handful of independent magazines. After a few nights out with Julia, I was pleasantly surprised to find her shared interests and solidarity in my work and ambitions of her own within the same ideology. But whilst that’s all well and good, I’m still very much the small indie journalist that slips through the cracks when it comes to small talk at these kinds of events. It became apparent pretty quickly that my latest articles on how fast fashion had begun its destruction of a liveable environment in developing countries weren’t as relevant or interesting to the people promoting Prada and Calvin Klein as the next met gala theme. 
“Do you want another drink?” Theo asks from beside me, pulling my focus from my scan of the room. 
“No thanks..I’m good.” I murmur, debating how long I have to stay before I can slip out and feel a little less awkward around all the people I have no clue how to talk to. “Think I’m gonna head off actually..”
“Look I know you hate networking, but this is just a chill get-together yeah?” Theo chuckles, squeezing my shoulder before taking another sip from his gin and tonic. “We’re in the same boat about these snooty things but tonight’s not like that, relax a bit will ya.” 
Theo works mostly with small-time music artists, producing debut albums and such so we share the same deep discomfort for the many events we often find ourselves at. It’s how we got close really, week after week we’d trail behind Julia as she strikes up conversations with Hollywood elite...and he always makes getting piss drunk in someone’s pool house exceptionally fun. 
Before I can further any excuses about getting home to start on the legitimate and ever-growing pile of work deadlines on my desk, a tall man in far too much Gucci to belong anywhere but in a room full of models and artists makes a beeline straight from the bar to our awkward party. 
“Harry!” Theo shouts, embracing the slightly tipsy man in a hug he reciprocates. 
“It’s been too long mate, how ‘ave you been?” Harry cheers, leaning back from the hug and grinning down at his friend. 
“I’ve been good - busy, enjoying the free bar as always.” Theo jokes, motioning between his and my matching G and T’s. Harry’s eyes wander up from the drink, realisation dawning on his face as he smiles again.
“Ah and you must be the famous Olivia,” He reaches his hand out to mine and shakes it lightly. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself, ‘m Harry, it’s good to finally meet you, love.”  
“Likewise.” I smile, trying to suppress the blush his words of endearment tease. I can’t deny the natural charm and charisma everyone always talks about now that it’s hitting me straight on. There’s something about the way he doesn’t hesitate to hold eye contact just that little bit longer that makes the room go still for just a second. He’d got it down to a T.
“Aww I see you two have finally met!” Nick interrupts. My hand falls from Harry’s grip as he’s welcomed into another hug. “About fucking time as well, been trying get this one to take a night off for weeks!”
“I literally came out with you last Thursday!” I counter, not missing the smirk setting on Harry’s face as he watches Nick and I’s back and forth. “And the Saturday before, come to think of it I’m always out with you Nicky.” 
“Not when Harry’s in town though n’ that’s a different kinda night.” Nick laughs, his beer sloshing slightly in his free hand as his other remains draped over Harry’s shoulders. 
That was maybe the first sign of my slight resentment for Harry. All night I wandered around with Theo hearing little bits of conversations, all surrounding the star of the party. I understood this wasn’t his doing, his humility was clear in every one of his bashful attempts to turn the conversation away from his growing achievements and onto literally anything else. He was, however, a self-proclaimed narcissist. Every time somebody would swoon over him and insist he stay the topic of conversation, a smirk tugged at his lips and stayed there as he consumed the endless and animated praise from almost all the party guests. 
I’d expected some of his qualities to be untrue, learning from the past never to believe blindly of someone’s pure character when you didn’t truly know them. Especially when they frequented the gossip columns. But it wasn’t him so much, he was true to his motto of kindness and courteous even as people fawned over him, it was more the attention that surrounded him. As the night went on it became clear what Nick meant even if he didn’t know it himself. A night out with Harry was different because everyone made sure to capitalize off how different he made them feel.
. . . . .
“Can I get you anything else M’am?” The young waitress asks as she clears up my empty mug and saucer. My eyes falter a little as they adjust from the blue light of my laptop I’ve been staring at for the last twenty minutes. 
“Um- oh please could I just get a refill?” I ask. 
“Sure thing - mint tea right?” She smiles, adjusting the mug in her hands to make a quick note. 
 “Yeah..s’perfect - thank you.” She’s gone before she hears my delayed gratitudes, definitely used to the throngs of bemused writers tapping away at their laptops for hours. 
I turn back to my open google doc. So far it’s written in two parts I have no idea how to connect and my senseless rereading hasn’t resulted in any legitimate progress in almost an hour. I’d accept the rut I’m stuck in and work on something else for the day if I didn’t only have the day. Last night had been filled with plans of settling in early and finishing the last two thousand words on an upcoming sustainable clothing brand. That all went out the window of course as my phone buzzed off the kitchen counter with Nick’s insistence of yet another night out to celebrate ending the work week - his was quite different to mine. It was easy to ignore the persistent beeping of my phone as new texts and call notifications popped up every three minutes, but less so when the rhythmic bursts of noise were replaced by knocks on my front door. 
Within 40 minutes of opening it to Nick in a silk shirt and jeans too skinny for someone pushing thirty, I was two drinks in and dancing to Blue DeTiger with a pair of hands on my waist that I didn’t entirely recognise. It was just the six of us: Me, Nick, Ellie, Theo, Julia and Harry.
He was hard to ignore, not that I was trying particularly hard. On the drive over, the limited backseat space in Nick’s car and close proximity had practically forced me into his lap. Even with thighs pressed tightly against each other, we hardly talked, a few polite hellos here and there and then silence as we listened to Eleanor recall her latest night with whichever blonde bassist was her ‘soulmate’ that week. The whole ride over, Harry kept his hands on the thigh closest to the door and leant his shoulders the same way as to touch me as little as possible - which was still quite a lot considering the packed five seater pushing seven passengers. It was fairly common knowledge we weren’t close and I got the feeling he wasn’t too keen on me, but he could at least not act like touching me would be the worst thing ever. 
As the night went on he clung to Theo, ever the cuddly drunk, and I stayed more to the pleasant stranger I’d found on the dance floor.
No meanest was ever intended between us but I couldn’t help but watch the kindergarten like bitterness grow as everyone just loved him. We couldn’t go anywhere without a crying fan or two approaching the sweet and smiling man who always answered their questions affectionately and hugged them goodbye. The times he was out of town were always filled with comments about his absence, as if none of us were good enough without his added presence. I couldn’t help but wonder why they even bothered to bring me into their little group. The lack of closeness between Harry and I felt almost like a lack of closeness to the group as a whole, despite how much my individual friendships with everyone advanced. 
Just as I thank the waitress - Alice, her name tag read, and take the first sip of my third tea (I had to switch after a particularly strong starter coffee) I notice a familiar man out the corner of my eye looking just as rough as me. Of course he’s wearing it better than I am. 
Harry collects a drink from the counter and bows his head slightly in thanks, turning and catching my eye just as he’s on his way out. He waves with his free hand and shoots me a candid smile before making a quick change in direction towards my small table. 
“Long time no see,” He pulls the chair opposite me out a little as he chuckles at his own joke. He perches lightly, temporarily. “How’ve you been?”
“A little hungover, I won’t lie..” I laugh, surprised by the whole encounter. “You?” 
“Same, I might have had a shot or two too many,” I nod knowingly and shut my laptop softly. He sips what smells like coffee before going on. “Are ya workin? Sorry to interrupt.” 
“Oh no- I mean I am but it doesn’t matter really, ‘ve kinda hit a dead end.” His eyes hover, waiting for me to go on. “I was gonna get it done last night but Nick had other plans..” 
“Yeah Nick’ll do that to you,” He laughs, “What’re you writing ‘bout?” 
He leans slightly forwards, holding eye contact and shuffling comfortably into his chair. 
“Oh just this promotional piece on a new company, they’re hiring young women and training them to make these handmade clothes. They’re paying them above minimum wage and focusing on sustainability so this editor I’ve written for before offered me it.” I’m not really sure how sincere he is in his curiosity, he always seems to have time to listen when Julia has a new design plan or Theo’s found a new artist but that’s different really. I stop before I start to ramble, just in case. 
“That’s so cool, what kinda stuff are they making?” He prompts, resting his chin on his fist, imitating the posture of an eager little kid. 
“They've started stocking stuff by other independent artists but mostly dungarees and these cool cord trousers, they’d suit you actually, even got some 70s style ones.” Now that the two worlds are colliding in my head, I can’t help but imagine Harry in a pair of their forest green cords, the wide legs would almost bury his vans but a part of me is pretty sure he’d love them. 
“Thanks, if they come at your recommendation I might have to get my hands on a pair,” He smiles, his tone’s a lot different to the usual polite cheer, it’s difficult to place where it’s landed before he’s talking again. “Reminds me of that show you took us to with the upcycled clothes, all those dungarees made of old quilts - remember?” 
It’d been a small exhibit just outside of London I’d mentioned offhandedly and somehow ended up showing everyone around. It was nice to have them all in my world for an evening. Marcus, a friend of mine from college, had put it together and created a lot of the pieces. He and the others I’d met through my work were fairly shocked to say the least when Harry Styles came traipsing through the doors behind me. All night he quietly asked Nick questions, to which Nick only responded by motioning towards me and wandering off to the bar. 
“I do - I’m surprised you do to be honest.” It slips before I can decide if it sounds passive aggressive or not. To be fair, it had been a surprise to me, meeting everyone at the train station and watching Harry and Nick scramble out a taxi and run towards us. He’d been dressed in proper gallery attire and seemed genuinely thrilled to be joining in on the rare night I actually played host. 
“Course I do, it was a good night...I’d choose it over Nick’s tequila Tuesdays anyday.” His phone buzzes on the table, a text popping up in green. “Oh I- my manager’s waiting sorry.” 
A sheepish smile is accompanied by a loose arm movement towards the door where, out on the street, I see Jeff. He’s shaking his head and motioning for Harry to hurry up. Had Harry sat down to talk to me whilst his manager had been waiting this whole time? 
“It was good running into you, good luck with it all,” He stands. “See you friday yeah?” 
I’d totally forgotten about his “Whenever I’m in town Friday film night.” until he mentioned it. I’d been twice in the past and stayed quietly to my corner of the sofa, only watching as everyone else laughed at whatever romcom had been chosen that night. 
“I-maybe.” He shakes his head as I smile, not quite ready to commit a whole evening to watching Nick raid Harry’s wine cellar. 
“You better, I’m gonna need to hear more ‘bout those cords.” He points his hand in a kind of joking reprimand/wave before he’s gone back down the aisle of tables to the door where Jeff ruffles a hand through his hair and laughs when his hands fly to fix the now birdnest of brown curls. 
I open my laptop back up, skimming over the last few lines I wrote to get myself back on track. I take a sip and my tea’s gone cold. 
. . . . .
“Are you coming to Harry’s tonight?” Eleanor asks down the phone, her voice chipper as she no doubt raids her closet. 
“Maybe, I don’t know..I’ve got this deadline Monday morning that I’m nowhere near meeting.” 
“Come on Liv, we haven’t seen you all properly together since last month, and last week doesn’t count it was too loud to actually talk!” She chimes in, the sound of clothes being tossed to the floor clear in the distant background. “Have you got a problem with Harry or something?” 
“No Elle, of course I don’t-” 
“Then why do you guys never talk? You hardly come with us when he’s around and when you do you barely even say hello.” Eleanor complains, she’s mentioned it in the past but it’s been easy to blow off with excuses of how busy he usually was making his way around the room to greet everyone or how we just hadn’t known each other that long and weren't particularly close yet. 
“I just...I don’t know, I don’t think he likes me very much.” I pause. I still haven't decided what last Saturday was in the cafe. “We’re not really close and I’d prefer not to spend another night listening to people tell him - and everyone else - how great he is.” 
“You’re saying that like he’s some arrogant twit, if you came out with us more you’d see what he’s really like around his friends. Or you know, you could actually talk to him when we’re together and see that he’s not a dick?” 
It was a fair point. I haven’t made much of an effort over the past year to spend any time with him outside of larger gatherings or to have genuine conversations with him that went past the weather or a new jacket one of us had on. Maybe he really is a good guy away from all the pretentious crowds and watchful eyes he usually called to our group. He’d certainly seemed different in the quiet Saturday surroundings of Blondies Coffee Roasters in between sips of coffee. 
“Okay, okay yeah I’ll see you there.” We hang up a couple of minutes later and I’m left alone in my kitchen again.
. . . . . 
“Hey!” Harry cheers as the door swings open to reveal him in yet another pair of flared pants that hung comfortably around his waist. “Come in, come in.” 
We all pile in through the doorway as he steps aside. Arms weaving through each other as we hang coats and jackets and Julia passes Harry the fruit platter she’d made (and scolded us all for picking at on the drive over.) 
“Oh very appropriate,” Harry laughs as he uncovers the tray to reveal an array of sliced watermelon, strawberries and grapes, He sets the fruit down on the table in the lounge for us all to eat and shakes his head lightly. I look up at Julia for an explanation but she’s too busy claiming the comfiest loveseat for the night. “I’m never telling you anything again, Jules.” 
Julia and Harry tease each other for a moment more until Theo catches my confused stares and laughs to himself. 
“Harry wrote a song ‘bout fruit- another one actually,” Theo starts, tucking himself beside Julia and letting her take over before he can finish. “S’not just about fruit though is it H?” 
Harry blushes slightly and settles his glare on Julia as he carries six wine glasses through to the table. 
“‘S about watermelon, it just has some..” He clears his throat as he fumbles for his next sentence. “Other themes to it too.” 
“As if mate,” Theo’s laughter booms, “ Basically Liv, he wrote this new song the other day all about how much he loves to-” 
“Watermelon!” Harry yells, pointing an accusatory finger at Theo. “S’all about how much I love watermelons...I’m a fruit guy.” 
“Oh are we talking about the pussy song?” 
All heads snap round to see Nick, obviously having let himself in and now chuckling softly to himself as he leans against the archway into the room. 
“Oh sorry H, were you tryna give an interview answer?” 
Harry just slaps his palm over his eyes and lets his shoulders shake for a minute before he bounces back to host mode. 
“Okay!” I can’t help but notice how flushed the tips of his ears are as he claps his hands together, desperately trying to move on from the conversation. “Who wants wine?” 
Fifteen minutes later everyone is settled onto the sofas with an array of throws between us and a layout of fruits, crisps and other mid rom com snacks that make me feel bad I left my flat in too much of a hurry to remember anything but hummus. 
“Okay - Sixteen Candles, When Harry Met Sally or Mamma Mia?” Nick calls out, waving the tv remote above his head to get everyone's attention. An outpour of votes follows - you’d think between only six of us we’d be able to sort out a process by now but still we fall into momentary anarchy as the room divides. 
“Mamma Mia is a classic!” Eleanor protests as Nick’s shaking his head. 
“And Billy Crystal isn’t?” He yells back, eyes wide and genuinely offended. 
“Colin Firth is arguably more iconic, Nick really, come on.” Theo sighs. He accepts the high fives Ellie and I reach out to him and saluts us both. 
“We’ve all seen Mamma Mia before though, we’ve never watched When Harry Met Sally all together,” Julia points out, winning a smirk and nod of approval from Nick. 
There’s a beat of silence while Nick weighs up the votes in his head. He tilts to the side slightly and eyes Harry up, our gazes following. 
“Harry?” 
“Ellie?” 
“Come on, you’ve got the last vote here, and I know how much you like Meryl.” Nick gasps a little, the mention of Meryl Streep as a wager to win Harry over to his opposing team was definitely foul play in his eyes. 
“Yeah but he loves When Harry Met Sally...and he is a narcissist..” Julia offers into the debate, a few snickers follow her comment before we all turn to look at Harry. We’re all already half a glass in but I could swear for just a moment his eyes lingered over me, fluttering down to my smile before turning back to announce his decision to Nick. 
“I’m afraid I am in the mood for a bit of Abba,” Cheers and not so subtle murmurs of frustration fill the lounge as Nick scrolls through the Romance bar on Netflix before clicking on the film of just over half of our choosing. 
Everyone goes quiet as the film starts, breaking out into bursts of song only as the cast does. From the conversation in the car, it’s pretty clear everyone has just been through a pretty tiring week. We all tended to pile our workload a little heavy so it was always nice to escape for a few hours at the weekend and relax together.
Just as Voulez-vous plays through the room, a slightly tipsy Nick leans into Harry to serenade the singer with his own rendition. The duo sway slightly, both narrowly avoiding Nick’s wild limbs before there’s a crash and Harry’s cursing. 
“Oh- H, Sorry!” 
Nick’s wine glass that’d been balanced on the coffee table in front of him moments before now lays on its side. The, luckily white, wine trickles down onto the rug but most noticeably splashes into Harry’s lap. I’m not entirely sure how he managed it, it must have flown forwards when it was knocked but Harry quickly stands to access the damage. 
“I’m so sorry Harry I-” 
“Don’t worry mate, I’m just gonna go change and toss these in the wash..could you wipe that up for me?” Nick nods, looking a little less cheerful and a lot more guilty now as Harry makes it way out the room. He calls behind him: “Keep watching I’ll only be a second!” 
Nick finishes wiping down the table and rug just as Harry jogs back into the room. I don’t mean to and I’m never one to check people out..unless very subtly, but I can’t help but let my eyes linger a little. 
He’s still in his plain tee but instead of his fancy pants he’s found some soft wash denim jeans. The whole look paired with his thick rimmed glasses and how his hair's gotten tousled about by Nick throughout the night just made him look so...ordinary. Not in any bad way, anyone who met Harry knew he could never be ordinary, no matter how casual he dressed, but something about seeing him abandon the more dressed up looks and go for the comfortable option just made him seem different. 
In a second his green eyes are complimenting the look too as he gazes down at me. 
“Hi,” He mouths, nobody’s taken much notice of his return, yet another musical number taking everyone’s attention. It’s my turn to blush a little now. I avert my eyes quickly, anywhere really, before sneaking a quick look up at him to smile back. 
Ellie had helped Nick in the “For fucksake save Harry’s rug it probably costs more than your car” mission and had stolen the seat beside him after they were done. It slipped my mind until Harry set the new bottle of wine on the table and sunk down into the space beside me, He curls one leg underneath him and slips me one more smile before turning back to the screen just as Donna and Sam start singing SOS.
. . . . . 
“Ah shit, I think I left my book!” I curse just as we make it down the road to Julia’s car. Parking was shit so by the time we found a spot we’d ended up a good 15 minutes away from Harry’s house. “You guys go on, I’m only round the corner anyway.” 
Theo and Julia were familiar with my stubbornness so let me go, yelling their goodbyes after a few hugs as they drove away, Ellie and Nick do the same as they clamber into a taxi. I turn quickly in the chilly air and make my way back down the street to Harry’s drive, punching in the familiar code at his gate before running up to the door hastily. 
It was open - as always, so I let myself in. He was probably still cleaning the lounge up after we all got a little too tipsy. 
“Hey it’s me...just left my book sorry!” I call down the hallway. It’s quiet despite the light Paul Simon playing in the distance so I make my way quickly to the sofas I’d spent most of the night on, praying to avoid an awkward run-in with Harry. 
Although we’d actually shared some light conversation throughout the night and a handful of smiles, I’m not sure we’re quite at the stage in our friendship that me more or less breaking into his house wouldn’t be awkward to run into. 
The lounge is empty when I get there. The side tables are still littered with wine glasses and tacky red rings on coasters but no Harry in sight. Or book for that matter. 
I start pulling back the cushions carefully - god knows how much they cost. Despite scouring the one spot I’d pretty much clung to the whole night -  incidentally beside Harry -  I have no luck. Nick tossed the book back to me at some point in the night after reading it by my recommendation but knowing him it could have ended up anyway. I follow the breadcrumbs of our night down another hallway as I vaguely remember Nick talking about a certain plot twist as we searched Harry’s kitchen cupboards for the wine he’d sent us off to restock. 
As I come around the white archway into his kitchen I catch a glimpse of him from around the kitchen island. He has his back turned to me but he’s leant forwards against a counter with ring covered fingers clutching the edge, a glass of amber liquid set slightly away from him. 
“Oh, sorry I was just-” He jumps a little at my voice, turning quickly to face me with his now free hands coming up to hold his chest. When his eyes finally meet mine they’re red and it takes a second for him to register the tears still streaming from them before he replies. 
“Shit, fu- what are you..are you alright?” His hands bat between tangling into his hair and wiping the tears from his cheeks, anything to avoid actually looking up at me again. 
“Yeah, I just..um..left my book,” I mumble, taking a step closer to him when I notice how his hands shake as they move timidly around his face. “Harry, what’s wrong?”
“Uuuh um.” He wanders for a moment before slapping a palm lightly atop the counter and pulling out his infamous grin. “Nothing much, how bout you - find your book?” 
“-Harry..” I take another step close, “I know we’re not, ya know..close. But you can talk to me.” 
There’s a beat of silence when he keeps up the act, I’d almost believe it if it wasn’t for his bloodshot eyes and anxious fingers drumming against the tile. 
“What’s wrong?” 
He pauses for a moment, assessing whether or not to tell me whatever’s weighing so heavy on his shoulders. But the dam bursts. 
“Fuckin’ everything Love” He laughs, rubbing his palms over his face. I try to focus on the matter at hand: Harry weeping in his kitchen. But that name’s only ever left his mouth directed at me a handful of times and it’s never made my stomach flutter quite as it did just now. “Just..Fuck I’m so lonely Olivia.” 
I don’t really know any of the details but between conversation - mostly overheard, and the media frenzy, it was hard not to be aware of Harry’s break up two months ago. I can’t claim we were close enough to discuss it, having hardly ever talked beyond trivial issues, but I knew that despite them only being together two or so months, he’d been incredibly distant for the weeks that followed the break up. 
“I hear about you and Aubre..I’m really sorry it didn’t work out for you guys-” Harry laughs almost, a pained sort of chuckle that told me I was way off with this one. 
“It’s not..that isn’t why I..” He takes a deep breath before lifting his head up slightly to focus on where his fingers still tapped out a nervous beat on the counter. “I was lonely before her...and with her. I just, I can’t seem to get it right ever...feels like nobody wants to be with me for the right reasons.” 
“Hey no..what about tonight? Your house was full of so many people who love you yeah? Maybe your bougie wine collection had something to do with it but still,” He laughs at that, peeking up from behind his fringe for just a moment. “They- we love you ‘k?” 
“I know but, ‘clock hits the am and everyone leaves, it just gets...it gets so fucking lonely to see everyone in perfect pairs ya know?” 
I don’t really know what I’m doing but I’m doing it - my arms wrap over his shoulders and lock with a hand at the nape of his neck. We’ve never hugged before beyond a general greeting but anyone watching wouldn’t know it, his face burrows quickly into my shoulder and his arms cocoon over my waist, holding me tightly and slipping under the thick layers of my jacket. 
“I know exactly what you mean, H.” 
The hug lasts longer than I imagined it might. He smells of vanilla and the coffee he brought back in bulk from Jamaica. He lets out a shaky breath and melts further into me, nuzzling my neck softly with the tip of his nose. His curls are soft between my fingers and I find myself shhing him, lulling us both into a tired kind of calm. 
Another moment passes in the silence of his kitchen before Harry lets out an awkward cough and straightens up, pulling out of our hold and immediately covering his face with his palms again. 
“I..sorry Jules and Theo must be waiting for you..” Harry murmured, wiping the last of his tears away and letting his hands fall and fidget by his sides. 
“Oh no don’t worry they..um they already went I was actually just gonna walk.” I tell him, making his head perk up a bit. 
“Wha-It’s past twelve Liv it’s not safe, how far do you even live?” He clears his throat and his voice is clearer now, it feels like a whole different world to the one we were in just a minute ago. 
“It’s fine honestly, only take like thirty minutes walking - I’ve done it before-” I ramble, eager to put this situation behind me before I embarrass myself anymore. 
“No - let me drive you yeah?” Harry shakes his head, adamant. 
“Harry..we’ve been drinking all night, I think that’s more dangerous than me jus’ walking.” I laugh, holding his gaze for a second longer than I usually would - fuck, how do we usually act around each other?
Before I come to a conclusion, his eyes rest heavy on mine and I can see the cogs turning in his brain as he tries to work his way out of this one. Ever the people pleaser. 
“Then stay.” 
“Harry-”
“You said you know how it feels.” He cuts in, unwavering now as he doesn’t let my eyes fall from his. “So stay …’s safer anyway.” 
. . . . . 
“I can take the sofa, really Harry I don’t mind,” I reassure as he tosses me an old t-shirt and joggers to sleep in. “It’s comfier than my bed anyway. 
His guest bedrooms had just been painted and were still pretty fume filled so the sofa or his bed were the only options. For twenty minutes now he’s tried to convince me to take his bed and leave him on the sofa, despite the fact we both know he’s a little too tall to sleep without his feet hanging off the end. 
“But you’re my guest!” He protests again, coming up from his wardrobe to stand in front of me, hand on hips and an expression of concern on his face. 
“And you’re almost six foot!” 
“Hey, I am six foot.” He takes a deep breathe, exhaling through his nose in defeat before speaking again. “Okay, you can sleep on the sofa but if anyone asks I was the perfect host and you bullied me into this.” 
I laugh softly, this whole new side of Harry had never been directed solely at me before and it was honestly refreshing. Usually Nick or another friend was the target of his jokes and playful demeanor and I only noticed it from afar but now he was right in front of me, hauling pillows off his bed and sticking his tongue out when he caught me staring. 
“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” He asks for the third time since I agreed to stay the night. We’ve just finished setting up the sofa to sleep on and despite the duvet and many quilts far more lush than my own actual bed, he seemed unconvinced it was enough. 
“I’m sure” I sit back into the pile of blankets and pillows, tucking my feet underneath me and looking back up at Harry. “If you’re really not, just come watch a film with me and see how cozy it is.” 
The quick change in dynamic was a lot smoother than I’d imagined. Within an hour of being alone together we’d already talked more than in all our past interactions, not to mention how close we’ve gotten. He only nods his head quickly and he’s settling under a quilt beside me, rummaging around for a controller to pull up netflix again. 
“Mamma Mia two?” He asks. 
I chuckle a bit and nod. At the beginning of the evening I hadn’t quite seen it ending in a Mamma Mia marathon with just me and Harry. 
He presses play and as the opening display begins we both lean back into the sofa and pull the blankets up over us. It’s only in the quiet of the first few scenes that I notice we’re matching. We’re both dressed fully in his clothes, grey joggers and t-shirt - his rolling stones, mine fleetwood mac. And it all smells of him. I pull the blanket a little higher over my chest and the faint, but now familiar, scent of vanilla and coffee fills my lungs and for a second all I can focus on is how desperately I want to be in his arms again. 
. . . . .
“-ow” A groggy voice mumbles from above me and I feel myself being pulled forwards slightly against something hard - and warm. 
I’m a few seconds from falling straight back asleep before I feel the painful ache in the side of my neck. I reach a hand up to gauge my current situation and feel my fingers plunging into soft hair - soft hair that ends too soon to be mine. 
“Hi..” I recoil my hand quickly back to my side and push myself up so I’m sitting slightly. I look down and see Harry, half asleep still and hand still resting on my side. 
“Oh-hey sorry,” What do you say when you wake up beside the guy you barely knew but simultaneously had been incredibly vulnerable with just the night before? 
Harry seems to be waking up now and certainly more aware of our predicament as he pulls his hand away from where it was holding firmly onto the material of my - his - t-shirt and pushes himself up to sit against the arm of the sofa. 
“We must have fallen asleep..sorry I didn’t mean too, ya know…” His eyes flutter between where I sit opposite him and the “Are you still watching?” Netflix screen. 
“It’s fine, accidents happen an’ everything.” I smile, slipping out from the warm cocoon of blankets to stand. “I’m just gonna wash up quickly and I’ll be out of you hair.” 
Before I can rush off to tame my hair and hopefully find some toothpaste to rid me of my morning breath, Harry clasps his hand gently around my wrist and tugs slightly to get my attention. 
“Not in a rush Love, I’ll make us some breakfast.” He says it effortlessly, like it was a regular occurrence for us to fall asleep cuddling on his sofa. He stands, groaning as his knees pop appreciatively and lets my hand go before he’s disappearing into the kitchen.
“Okay…” I murmur to myself. “....okay.” 
. . . . .  
Alice is back at my table with my second refill before 11am. I thank her and take a gulp of the fiery ginger tea before reading over the last three paragraphs I just wrote. The spice licks my tongue as I tip the cup up for a second sip; it’s autumn after all. 
In the last two weeks September had slipped into October and all the trees in London had received the memo. I’d been busy, hoaled up in the quietest corner of Blondies the whole time with coffee filling all my senses. I haven’t seen everyone together since that night at Harry’s. I grabbed lunch with Eleanor the Monday afterwards and told her nothing, preferring to avoid the texts my phone amassed over the fortnight. I've turned down all proposed group activities and focused on work instead. To be fair, I do have a lot to get done. There were always seasonal pieces in my to do list and with the weather getting colder it was time I got to them before it was Christmas already. 
I haven’t talked to Harry either. He made us pancakes with blueberries and maple syrup in the morning and we haven’t even texted since; I’m not sure that we even have a private text between us. Eleanor and Julia have told me how much fun they’ve all had the times I’ve politely but persistently declined, I can only assume Harry’s in the mix with them all. He’s in town for awhile if I’m remembering our breakfast chatter correctly, it makes sense that they’re all hanging out together really when they don’t often get time together. Ellie’s phone calls keep me from sliding into thoughts of how easily I could fall right out of the group and not be missed, at least. I was just taking space for work. The fact that most of my afternoons at the cafe disappeared into me analysing anything I might ever have felt or said to Harry means nothing at all. 
Neither does the heightened pace of my heartbeat when he walks through the stiff wooden  doors of Blondies. 
He orders what I assume is his regular black coffee, scans the room for a second and lands directly on me. He hesitates a little to hold my gaze, turning his head to look outside before looking back at me and smiling. He thanks the server and takes a few quick steps towards me, weaving in between the packed tables to my little spot hidden away in the corner. 
“Hi,” He smiles again, although his toneos overshadowed by a slight anxious hilt. “Can I sit?” 
Nodding, I close my laptop and pull my tea closer to me to make a space for him. 
“Hi.” He repeats, smiling a little sheepishly. 
“Hi,” I wait a second, nervous to start when I’m so unsure of how this conversation has already gone in his head. But he doesn’t say anything so I push through and bite the bullet against my better judgement. “Look, about that Friday I-”
“Can I just-” He cuts me off, leaning forwards and opening his hands out as he mulls over his next few words. “I’m sorry if it was awkward at all, I didn’t mean for anything to happen and I thought we were fine an’ everything but then I haven’t seen you in two weeks and Ellie keeps saying you’re not comin’ out. Did I do something wrong?” 
“Oh god no,” I hurry, “You didn’t do anything it was just - I didn’t expect to wake up..like that...and it was just a really quick change because we’ve never really been close and suddenly it was just, us, like that.” 
He nods, pushing a loose curl back a second later that broke free in the motion. He seems understanding as he looks down before leaning his elbows against the table so only the two of us can hear what he’s about to say. 
“I know, I didn’t expect it either but, can I just tell you I’m glad that it happened?” He leaves a three second pause for me to flounder in confusion before continuing. “What I told you, ‘bout feeling lonely, it messes with my sleep all the time. I just get stuck in my own thoughts but the night you stayed over I slept fine - perfect even.”
Not sure what else to do with this new information, I nod for him to continue.
“I know we’ve never been close, but hanging out with you just really calmed me down.” He smiles, gaining confidence now in his vulnerability tucked away in our little hiding place. “Thank you for staying.” 
“I get what you mean.” I mumble, slightly anxious any of the busy customers with prying eyes could overhear my confession. “I never really know when to stop working and I think I got the best night sleep on your sofa I’ve had in awhile, which really speaks volumes about how crappy my mattress is.”  
He chuckles. Relief seems to settle in as he lets his shoulders relax and face soften. 
“I was thinking - especially now that I know it was good for you as well, maybe it could become more of a regular thing?” He asks, his forefinger and thumb pinch together and twist one of his rings a little - a nervous habit, I’m sure. 
“How do you mean?” 
“Like..when we all go out, maybe we go home together, you know - so we can sleep better.” He moves down to focus on the metal rose he’s still fumbling at. “If..if you don’t want to or you think it’d be weird it’s fi-” 
“I’d like that.” I reach forwards to comfort him, absentmindedly cupping my fingers around his. “I think it’d be nice, to get a good night's sleep I mean.” 
“I’m glad.” He beams.
“..That and you make a mean blueberry pancake.” I tease, earning a light chuckle from Harry. 
Just like our last cafe encounter, the ping of a his phone beats me to my new few words. He checks it quickly, shaking his head and glancing down the large room to the shop front where, once again, Jeff waits. He seems a little more agitated this time, waving vigorously whilst trying not to attract the attention of passersby, all  rather unsuccessfully. 
“Bollocks okay - I’ve gotta go,” Harry swears, collecting his coffee from the table and pushing his chair back quickly. “I’ll just - we can text before we go out next yeah?” 
“Cool, yeah - wait a sec, let me just give you my number.” I reach up for him to hand me his phone but he doesn’t make any effort to move, instead he blushes slightly and stares at the floor. “..What?” 
“I um, I already have it.” He fiddles with the hair at the nape of his neck before talking again. It’s hard not to remember how it felt when it was my fingers carding through his brown curls. “I got it from Theo awhile back when we were going to this thing, felt weird not having it. I hope that..okay and everythin’” 
I nod, smiling up at him. The idea of him having a part of me for this past year without me even knowing is oddly precious. The fact that he felt odd about not having my number and going to the effort of getting it from Theo was unbelievably endearing. 
“That’s fine, helpful actually.” I smile still, “Text me before we meet everyone and we’ll make a plan or somethin’” 
“Okay,” He smirks, his slight cocky nature reemerging. “Will do, Liv. See you soon?” 
“See you soon.” 
Jeff flies a hand up to his hair like before but this time is met with a grinning Harry who doesn’t seem to mind so much. 
. . . . . 
Unknown Number 
‘Hey! Is tonight good? We can slip off after drinks at the gallery. H x’ 
I look down at my phone. Caught off guard by the sudden text, I’d almost forgotten out arrangement. Julia invited us all to a gallery opening of one of her friend's new exhibits. Even as I flicked through my wardrobe for the right jacket, I hadn’t put two and two together and realised I’d be seeing Harry again for the first time since our chat at Blondies four days ago. 
I save his number and I think quickly, not wanting to leave him on read when he knew I’d be leaving to see them all any second and most likely spend the whole tube journey on my phone. 
‘Hi :) That’d work for me yh, just let me know when you want to leave and I’ll make an excuse. Liv x’ 
With another thought rushing through my head, I send a quick follow up. 
Me
‘Can we keep this between us right now? Might be a bit tricky to explain to the others.” 
Harry
‘Read my mind love.’
‘See you in a bit :)’ 
I’m still not the hugest fan of the airy feeling that rushed through my stomach as I read over the pet name. He was just from Manchester, it was normal up there to call everything by casually affectionate little names. It didn’t mean anything at all. 
. . . . . 
“Livia!” Nick calls out when he sees me scanning over the faces at the entrance to the gallery. I smile instantly and make my way over, quickly falling into his arms as he rocks us for a second. “Haven’t seen you in an age!” 
“‘Ve been working, we can’t all piss about Monday to Friday.” I giggle, smiling wide as he murmurs something under his breath and plants a big kiss on my cheek. “Is everyone here?” 
I try not to look suspicious when I peak over around us, trying to pick a certain brunette from the crowd.
“Yeah, they’re just over there with Julia’s friend.” Nick points and I see him immediately. He’s dressed just as I expected - half gucci half grandpa sweaters. “I’m gonna get us drinks, meet you there?” 
“Mhmmm” I hum, breaking out of his hold and slipping through the crowds to our small group of friends. 
“Hi!” Julia smiles brightly. She hugs me quickly before stepping aside to give Eleanor and Theo their turns. They all whisper quiet ‘Missed yous’ in my ear as if I’ve been gone for years. 
“Hey,” Harry appears by my side as everyone else turns their attention to the front of the crowd where it looks like the artist is setting up to introduce the night. “How’ve you been?” 
“In the last four days?” I chuckle, “Good. Not been sleeping great, but I’ve got a lot of work done so that’s been great.” 
He nods approvingly. A smile tugs at his lips at the mention of sleep, almost like some secret inside joke we’ve managed to form between just the two of us. 
“Me neither. Jeff’s been buggin’ me what feels like every hour with deadlines.” I find myself squeezing his hand a little under his long coat sleeves so nobody can see. “Looking forward to just collapsing tonight, if I’m honest.” 
“Me too.” I smile tiredly, tonight had been a big ask come to think of it. I've had work piled up twice my height all week and even having worked day in and day out I’ve still only made a crack in the mountain of final edits and emails to respond to.
Harry squeezes my fingers back and our hands linger in each other's hold until Nick emerges beside us and the artist begins her speech. 
. . . . .
 The comfortable chatter surrounding the booth we’d taken up a few hours ago died down as the clock ticked later and later. We’d left the gallery a while ago now in favour of the after party at a pub down the road but by now the heavy scent of beers and various gin based concoctions were giving us all headaches. 
“I think I’m gonna call it a night guys,” Harry announces, a slew of groans following from the group. “Sorry, sorry! It’s been great but it’s getting late.” 
Julia and Theo move out the way to let him out the booth. He slides across the red cushion to stand, pulling his coat over himself as he sneaks a quick look at me. 
“I think I’m gonna head off too,” I smile, waiting for Eleanour to stand and let me out as another wave of complaints flooded me. “Sorry! I’ve got work and the tube’ll be hell any later.” 
“Well if Harry’s going too couldn’t he take you home?” Julia suggests, looking between the two of us as we now stand slightly away from each other. “You drove right?” 
“Yeah, I did.” Harry turns to smile at me, amused clearly by how our plan was being unknowingly encouraged by our friends. “C’mon, I’ll drive yeh.” 
I nod, biting back a smirk. We say our goodbyes and wave as we slip out the heavy pub doors out onto the road outside. It’s started to drizzle slightly and I resent choosing the jacket without a hood. 
“I’m just over here,” Harry points a little ways off. “Hurry, think it’s about to pour.” 
We walk quickly down the street and through a metal gate into a car park when there’s a loud rumble of thunder and immediately the rain thickens. 
“Fuck!” Harry laughs as he scrambles for his keys, we match each other's paces until we’re practically sprinting to his car in the far corner of the lot. The click of the locks sounds out and his lights flash red a second before we’re both pulling the doors open and throwing ourselves inside onto warm seats. 
We catch our breath, chests rising and falling with uneven pants before our laughter settles and Harry slots the keys into the ignition. 
. . . . . 
“Do you want anything to eat?” Harry asks as he closes his front door behind us and we kick out shoes off in his hall. “I think I have some takeout menus somewhere..” 
“I’m not really hungry, thanks though,” I cut off his search as he walks through to his kitchen and starts opening draws. “Kinda just wanna go to bed now.” 
He nods and rubs a hand under his eye in silent agreement of my exhaustion.
“I’ll make us a tea, meet you up there yeah?” He calls over his shoulder, having turned quickly to retrieve various packets from his cupboards. “Chamomile okay?” 
“Yeah chamomiles good,” I hover for a second in the archway leading into the kitchen, suddenly awkward to be alone in his house again. “Where um..where is it?” 
He looks over his shoulder at me, slightly confused. His eye brows unfurrow when I motion behind me. 
“Oh- just up the stairs and third room down the hall..on the left.” He smiles, turning back to the cupboard to look through his extensive mug collection. 
I nod to myself, spinning on my heel and making my way up his stairs. I’ve never gone beyond the downstairs of his house before and even then I stuck to the kitchen, dining room and lounge. It felt odd to suddenly have access to something as intimate as his bedroom, I try not to overthink things as I push open the third door I see.
The first thing I see is his large bed, there’s probably enough room for three people on it and there’s definitely enough pillows to go around. The room as a whole is tidy, whether it’s always like that or only organised so precisely for my visit, I don’t know, but the thought makes my stomach flutter. 
I walk up to the side of the bed with no charger on it’s table and set my bag down. We hadn’t talked about the logistics of our...arrangement, but I’d brought the basics to last me through the night. I plug my charger into the wall and take out my wash bag and a set of clothes to sleep in before sliding my bag under the table. I look around for a second. Somehow I hadn’t really thought through the fact that by the end of the night, I’d be in Harry’s bed. With Harry. In a completely platonic way with the only function to soothe our mutually crappy sleeping habits. 
I hear Harry walking up the stairs just as I slip into the un suit to wash up and get changed. He’s humming a song under his breath. The clink of mugs being set down is followed by wardrobe doors opening and closing and a light thud of clothes being thrown on the bed. 
I wait a few minutes to make sure I don’t walk in on him changing. Opening the door tentatively, I step out into the room in a large sweater and pajama shorts. Harry turns to look at me, he’s in the same t-shirt he wore last time and a pair of boxer shorts and the whole situation suddenly seems so amusing. After just one night of falling asleep on the sofa together, not having ever talked before, here we are standing at our most vulnerable about to cuddle in his bed together.
“Hi.” 
“Hey,” He nods, looking down at himself. “Hope this is okay...I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or-” 
“It’s fine,” I reassure him, “I didn’t really know what to wear either.” 
His eyes flicker down my body and he smiles back up at me. He motions to the bed and we both nod a little awkwardly before making our way over to our sides. I climb in and instantly let a small groan out as my body sinks into the mattress, the pillows and duvet feel almost like a cloud as I burrow under and pull my tea up to my lips. 
Harry chuckles from beside me, I peak over the mug to seem him grinning down from where he sits slightly taller in the bed.
“Sorry, you look comfy.” He laughs a little, 
“I am, your bed’s insane.” I set my mug down and turn to him, bouncing slightly to emphasise the quality of his mattress that probably cost more than a year of my rent. “I really should start earning millions, feel like it’d suit me.” 
He returns his tea to the bedside table and copies me, turning to face me with his legs crossed. 
“It definitely would.” He smiles, bouncing a little before I let out a yawn. “Tired?” 
“Exhausted.” I mumble, hand still covering half my face. Harry reaches behind him to turn to switch the lights above his headboard off before pulling the duvet back for us to slip under.
“C’mere,” Without hesitating, I shuffle back slightly until I can feel his chest behind me and an arm come up to rest around my hip. “‘This okay?” 
“Mhmmm,” I hum, “What about our teeth?”
“We’ll brush ‘em in the morning,” I nod, groaning again as all the aches in my body subside as I sink into his arms and the foam mattress. “You okay?” 
“Yeah,” I mumble, embarrassed to have let myself go so easily around him. “Your mattress is just unbelievable. Might have to make this a regular thing.” 
I speak before I think, mind clouded with sleep and my eyes already fighting to stay open. 
“That’s the plan, love.” 
. . . . . 
When I wake up, Harry’s arms are tight around my middle and his body’s like a furnace behind me. I vaguely recall pulling my sweater off in the night to cool down as I lay now only in a vest and shorts. I slept better than I have in months though, despite the warm breaths on my neck turning my cheeks flushed. 
The mix of Harry’s company and his safe haven of a mattress made for the perfect night sleep. I push back slightly into his chest and feel his arms tighten around me and a low murmur of his voice in my ear. The clock on my bedside table reads 6:30. It’s a Saturday and I can quite easily imagine spending the rest of my day - weekend even, exactly like this. 
I slip back to sleep for a little awhile before I’m woken up to a low groan behind me. Harry shifts slightly, burying his face in the base of my neck and squeezing around my waist again. He must still be half asleep to be this comfortable with me. 
I’m proven right when it takes another fifteen minutes for him to poke his head up over my shoulder and mumble: 
“Breakfast?” 
. . . . . 
Our routine works smoothly for weeks. After sleeping so well the first few times, it became a given that we’d pile into Harry’s car after every night out with our friends and go back to his. Sometimes we’d get takeout or watch a film, but it wasn’t so rare that we’d just stumble out of his car, or a taxi - depending what the night had entailed, and walk with eyes almost closed straight to bed. 
I stopped bringing things every night about two weeks in when a new toothbrush appeared next to Harrys and an oversized t-shirt of Harrys found its way onto my side of the bed. We also ditched the awkward pleasantries. Spending two or three nights a week in his house, I’d become pretty familiar with it all. I sometimes brought us breakfast if it was a weekend, or left a coffee beside the bed for him if I left for work first, We had very easily slipped into an oddly familiar sense of domesticity. It was strange to never mention any of it to our friends, it made it special though. We helped each other, and it was all just between the two of us. Nobody else knew Harry taught me how to make coffee just the way he likes it, or that we share his lavender shampoo sometimes. 
“Ols?” Harry calls up the stairs to me. We’re running late to Julia and Theos anniversary dinner. 
“Coming!” I yell back, reaching into his wardrobe to snatch a jacket before running down the stares. 
“Oi! Slow down love, you’re gonna fall,” He complains, holding his hands out at the bottom of the stairs to catch me as I skid a little on the wooden floors of his hallway. “Hey! This’s mine!” 
He tugs playfully on the opening of his jacket. I pull the fabric from his grasp and smile up at him. 
“Not anymore…” He scrunches his nose up and pulls me towards him. The sudden movement pushed the air from my lungs suddenly. “-Fine! Just for tonight...nobody’ll notice anyway, you only just got his one.” 
He shakes his head, bringing his fingers up to tickles across my stomach quickly before letting me go and clapping his hands. 
“Shoes now!” He points down at my sock clad feet, “Come on we’re late already.” 
I sling my bag over my shoulder and slip my boots on before trailing after him to the front door. He’s pulled his large green coat off the hangar before he’s looking back down at me, brows pulled together in confusion. 
“What’ve got yeh bag for?” 
“Ah see Harry, I tend not to leave my stuff places I don’t actually live.” I laugh.
“You’re not coming back tonight?” The confusion’s not joined by a hint of sadness as his hands fall from the door knob and he turns to face front on. 
“Oh I..hadn’t thought ‘bout that. I’ve gotta water my plants.” I haven't been home in two days, I spent the whole day at Blondies yesterday then headed to Harry's after a few drinks with him and Nick. We’ve hung out around his house all day, sleeping in and finishing our last few bits of work for the week. “I can let them go a little dry I guess-” 
“Can I come to yours?” Harry cuts me off to ask. “It’s just, I haven’t ever seen it..and that way your plant’ll be fine.” 
I stay quiet for a second. Our world of sleepovers and movie marathons and home made curries for dinner existed within his house. My flat was small in comparisons to the homes of our friends, who were all, delicately put, pretty well off. Not that I wasn’t, I’d just gone into a lower paying area of my industry. I lived alone anyway so there wasn’t much point paying thousands in rent when I didn’t need much space. 
“It’s fine it you want a night to yourself I can just-” 
“It’s not that, H, I just didn't really think about how we only ever come here.” I mumble the last part, “Come back to mine, I don’t feel like going back on my own anyways.” 
I smile a little, unsure of where we stand on the whole admitting we’d grown pretty dependent on each other’s presence, front. He smiles back, twisting the door open and holding it for me as I slip under his arm. 
The car clicks unlocked and I settle into my seat. I reach over to push my seat belt in as Harry pulls his door shut and the car rumbles to a start. 
“Can’t believe Jules and T have been together so long.” He sighs as we pull out onto the main road. 
“Tell me about it,” I gaze out the window as rain dribbles lightly. “Feels like the year just went straight by.”
“They seem so happy still, like they’re still honeymooning,” Harry hums. 
“I remember when they just started going out in Uni, even then it was obvious they’d end up together.” 
“I like those kinds of people. The ones who make each other just completely themselves, ya know?” He glances over at me before turning back to the road. 
“Yeah...they’re proper soulmates aren’t they.” 
. . . . . 
“Okay but seriously, what the fuck is up with you and Harry?” Eleanor bursts out as soon as we reach the bar. We’ve been sent off to get the third round whilst the others stayed at our favourite booth of the pub we frequented. 
“Wait what?” I yell over the loud chatter of the pub, “What do you mean?” 
“You know what I mean!” She’s still waving her hand out for the bartender when she glances down at me again. “You’re tryna say you’re suddenly so close and nothing’s happened between you?” 
“We’re not that close.” I quip, “We���ve just talked a bit more lately, I guess.”
“And nothing’s happened?”  She raised a brow at me suspiciously. “You guys have left together every night for the past few weeks, just admit you have feelings for each other.” 
“No, nothing’s happened.” I sigh, unsure if I sound convincing or not. “We just live close and it’s too cold now to get the tube back so late, he’s just being nice. You know Harry...he’s like that with everyone.” 
Eleanor laughs a little, shaking her head. She places our order with the bartender when he makes his way to our side of the bar before turning back to me with her arms crossed. 
“He’s nice to everyone, but he’s not just being nice to you.” She smirks, “And he usually doesn't give just anybody his clothes.” 
She reaches out and rubs the fabric of my - Harrys - jacket between her thumb and forefinger. She looks up and quirks her brows up a little again. Before I can splutter out an explanation our drinks are being laid out on the counter beside us and Eleanor is pointing to the ones for me to carry and turning back to our booth. 
A surge of anxiety washes over me as I follow Eleanor back to the group. My breaths feel unsteady and I can’t help but dart my eyes to get a quick glance at Harry to see if he’s experiencing the same kind of interrogation. He seems fine though, laughing at something Nicks said. 
Soon we’re at the booth, slipping back into our seats and setting the drinks out in front of everyone. Harry’s eyes hover on me for a few seconds, brows raised a little in question. I smile and shake my head - everything’s fine. 
I don’t miss how Eleanor glances between us throughout the whole night. Especially not when a different two get up for the next round and Harry and I are pushed next to each other when they climb back into the available seats. Harry seems a little suspicious too. He clearly hasn’t noticed Eleanor’s strange behaviour - or doesn’t care - because he’s kept gazing down at me every now and then since we came back with drinks hours ago. When I stop looking up at him, nervous Eleanor might question me about his constant and slightly nervous glances when we’re alone, he reaches his hand under the tables and pulls mine into his lap. He squeezes our hands every now and then. He’s always a touchy, cuddly drunk. Normally it’s a bit more obvious; he’ll wrap his arms around one of us on the dance floor or lap his head on a shoulder, nothing too intimate. Just friendly. But now he’s stroking his thumb over my knuckles and tapping out the beat of the current song playing with his foot, his knee bumping mine. 
Julia and Theo are the first to go. Relief settles in me at the idea of not being the first two to leave for once. There’s no way Eleanor wouldn't’ve have noticed me and Harry sneaking the other a glance like we usually do to signal we’re ready to go, without some kind of distraction. 
“It was so lovely guys, feels like we haven’t just sat down and talked in so long!” Julia smiles, leaning into Theos side tiredly as they say their goodbyes. 
“I think I’m gonna head off too, it’s getting pretty late,” I smile, waiting for Harry to speak when Theo pipes up before him. 
“Livs, you want a lift?” Theo looks down at me. 
“Oh Olivia, that’s a good idea, you were just saying how it’s too cold for the tube.” Eleanor beams, smiling cheekily as she knows I’m the only one who’ll understand her subtle teasing. 
“Oh I-” I stutter before Harry’s squeezing my hand again and looks up at Theo. 
“I was actually gonna take her home, we’re only 10 minutes apart so it’s just easier.” He smiles politely, if I couldn’t feel his foot hooking over mine I’d believe he was just being nice and helping out a friend. 
“Yeah but you’re gonna stay a little while aren’t you?” Julia countered, “We’re pretty close, it’s fine really.” 
I nod, motioning to slide out of the booth. Harry lets me by, dropping my hand before anyone else could see. Julia, Theo and I say goodbye quickly and head out to the car park. As soon as we’re all strapped into their car, I pull out my phone and click Harry’s contact. 
Me 
Meet me at mine x
Harry 
Okay - what was that about? 
Me 
I’ll explain when u get here, just something w Eleanor
U might have been right about the jacket :/ 
Theo pulls up outside my flat and I jump out the car, thanking them quickly and waving them off. I climb the stairs of my building and click the keys in my door, pushing it open and kicking my shoes off the second I get in. After a fifteen minute frantic clean, the place is looking slightly better. There’s no time to perfect it as I hear my phone buzzing on the counter, a dorky photo of Harry in one of his infamous sweaters all sprawled out on the sofa and sticking his tongue out at me flashes the screen. 
“Hello?” 
“Hey, I’m just outside,” He talks softly, “What number are you?” 
“24, wait a sec and I’ll buzz you up.” 
I tread quickly to the button by my front door and let him up, hearing a quiet thanks over the phone and a “See you in a sec”  before the line goes dead. 
A minute later there’s a quiet knock at my door. I open it and see Harry, he looks a little more tired than when I left him forty minutes ago, he rubs his knuckles under his eyes and sighs softly. 
“Hey, come in.” I pull the door a little wider, stepping aside to let him inside. He walks past me, eyes watching the floor whilst I lock the up behind us and turn to face him. There's an awkward tension in the air that I haven’t experienced with Harry before, maybe a little that first night when I walked in on him in his kitchen, but nothing like this since we’ve gotten closer.  
“What happened?” He asks quietly, lifting his head with an uncertain look on his face.”You barely even looked at me. 
“I..” I stumble over what to say, I’ve been thinking I could just explain what Eleanor had said and have it done with but now I know we’re not going to be able to just leave this. If somebody’s going to find out about our arrangement then something would have to change. “Ellie thinks there’s something going on with us and she kept staring all night. I just, I couldn’t give her anything to be suspicious about.” 
“S’that what you mean about the jacket?” I nod, “What did she say?” 
“Just that we seemed closer, talk more I guess.” I sigh, “She didn’t believe anything I said.” 
“What did you say?” He presses. His tone is unclear, he seems less hurt now and more focussed on getting answers from me. 
“I just, I told her nothing’s happened.” I mumble, “She asked about us leaving together and I told her it was just because we lived close and it’s easier than the tube.” 
Harry bobs his head a little, taking in what I’ve just told him before laughing a little. He shakes his head and brings his palms up to his face, cursing under his breath. We stand in the quiet of my hallway before he speaks up again.
“Can we still do this?” That catches me off guard. Of course I knew we’d have to stop sometime when one of us started dating or a friend found out, I just hadn’t thought seriously about it happening anytime soon. “If she does find out, would that be the worst thing in the world?”
I shake my head, taking a step towards him to close the gap between us that’d been building my nerves throughout this whole exchange. 
“I don’t wanna stop hanging out.” I confess. Harry quirks his lips up a little, obviously relieved as he pulls me to his chest. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and rests his chin on my head as we breathe together for a moment. All the while we’ve been spending nights at his, there’s been no serious moments like this. We’ve opened up about vulnerable subjects and confessed more than we probably should have to each other, but never anything like this. There’d never been a  time I thought I could lose him. 
“What if something did happen.” He whispers into my hair. 
“Like what?” I murmur, voice a little muffled by his jacket. 
“Like..” He trails off a little and I’m pretty sure I hear him inhale a little and smell my hair. “Like what if I kissed you..or something.” 
“Or something?” My chest tightens, stomach fluttering suddenly. 
“Mmhhhmm,” He hums, “What would happen then?” 
“Eleanor would have a field day.” 
Harry laughs, shoulders shaking a little as he giggles above me. He loosens his grip on my and pushes away to create a little space to see me again. 
“Oh yeah?” He teases. 
“Uh huh,” I smile, “She’d never let us forget it if she knew she was right.” 
“And what would she be right about?” Harry lifts his hand to cup my face, tilting it slightly to make sure I’m staring right up at him. 
“..Something..happening.” I whisper, “Having feelings for eachother.” 
Harry grins, cheeks a soft rosy between the outside cold and the new blush. He strokes the pad of his thumb against my cheek and beams down at me. 
“Oh yeah?” 
“Uh huh…” 
“Really..she’d be right about that?” 
“I’m pretty sure-” 
Before I can tease anymore, Harry’s leaning down to press his lips against mine. I inhale sharply, closing my eyes and looping my arms around the back of his neck to hold us in place. His hand still holds my face firmly, thumb fluttering over my cheek a couple times before he pulls away and we both breathe in deep. 
“She’s definitely right.” He smiles, tone turning serious for a moment. “I really like you Olivia.” 
Butterflies surge through my stomach for the millionth time since he walked through my door. Blushing and happy, I tighten my arms and push my face back into his shoulder. 
“I like you too H….just a little bit.” 
“We don’t have to tell anyone, just want this to be ours for a little while.” I can hear the smile in his voice as he leans back down to whisper into my ear. 
“I want this to be ours forever.” I hum, words quiet and part of me hoping he doesn't hear my honest confession. 
A comforting quiet settles over us. I remember how tired I really am as I melt further into Harry’s body, breathing in the sweet cinnamon and vanilla scent. His breathing lulls me half to sleep as I let my eyes flutter shut and bury my head further into his neck. I feel him lifting me up as my body relaxes against his and I catch his last few words before I he’s shifting me into his arms and walking us up the stairs. 
“I could hold you ‘n listen to your voice all night long, love.” 
. . . . .    
“Oh my god!” Julia yells out, unravelling a long shawl from pristine white tissue paper. “Okay whoever got me, thank you so much!” 
She continues to squeal a little as he wraps it over her shoulders and presses the end to her nose, inhaling the lavender scent of her favourite designer brand. 
I’d only spent one Christmas with the whole group before but it was clear secret Santa was a bit of a tradition. Between the six of us we all had other friends, family and mostly, relationships. Organising a secret santa within our group just relieved some of the stress of present buying - and it was fun. 
We’re all sitting around Harry’s living room, it felt the homiest  to us after all. The kiddy advent calendar I bought for him hung by the fireplace reading December 21st. We’ve all finished our egg nogs, meaning it was officially present time. Over the next few days we’ll all be driving up and down the country to visit family, meaning today’s the last day most of us will be seeing each other. Harry had whined about me leaving, begging me to stay another day with him or better yet - spend christmas with his family up north. 
It was when I told him my own parents were spending the holidays visiting my sister and her kids in New York that his campaign started. We kissed almost three months ago now and have been on a slew of dates since. Between all the secret dinners out, brunches and farmers market trips, we haven’t found time for the talk. We had no official title. I’ve heard Harry refer to me as “m’girl” a couple times when I’ve wandered into the kitchen and overheard him on the phone to mitch, but nothing he’s told me himself. Despite this, he still insists I have to come and spend christmas with him and his close family. The idea of me hanging out with my young cousins and distant relatives apparently doesn’t satisfy him. 
“Are you serious!” Eleanor gasps as she unwraps her own present. Everyone had picked the perfect gifts for each other this year. In a pure coincidence, I ended up with Harry’s name after Nick made me trade because he’d already bought Julia’s present for her. I’ve been nervous about it all evening, I was sure he’d like it, a little too sure. That was the problem. One night, wrapped up in Harry’s bed, he’d recalled his latest tragedy to me: He’d taken shroom with Mitch on his last trip to LA and subsequently decided to skinny dip in the sea, losing his favourite mustard cords in the process. The only times we’ve seen everyone else has been with the both of us present and , to my knowledge, he hasn’t mentioned this to anyone else. The brown paper package that sat on the coffee table could invite a few more questions that I was prepared to answer. 
“Harry, you’re next!” Ellie grinned, hugging her present to her chest. 
Thanks to our early secrecy, there’s been no opportunity to tell our friends we were dating. Eleanor hasn’t stopped her constant questioning but we’ve kept up a pretty good front of excuses. It was still freezing out so it made sense for us both to climb into his car together at the end of the night. Nobody had to know we would be going home to the same house where we’d climb into the same heavenly bed and scramble eggs together in the morning. 
“I’m going, I’m going!” Harry laughs as Ellie tries to hurry him up, playing perfectly into her role as the youngest in our group. 
He pulls the first fold of paper back with his ringed fingers and immediately looks up at me as the mustard fabric shines up at him. He grins wide, beaming back at me before pulling the rest of the paper back and laying the trousers out in front of him. 
“No babe...where did you find them?” He’s running his fingers down the cord, in awe to have his favorite trousers back - or at least a copy. 
I don’t miss how Eleanor and Nick’s heads turn to share a look of shock as the pet name tumbles out. Before I can put anything together, Harry’s standing and leaning over the coffee table. He wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a hug and whispering his thanks in my ear. 
“Wait I dont - how did you know it was h-” Julia pipes up, before she can finish she’s cut off by the joint gasps of Nick and Ellie as Harry plants a wet kiss to my cheek - then my lips, and laughs at our friends reaction. 
“I knew it!” Ellie yells, pointing frantically between the two of us, Harry now having stepped over the table and come to sit next to me, pulling me into his side.
“What was-” Julia stammers, “Since when!” 
Harry’s eyes flutter down to my face. He giggles quietly when he catches on to my glare. This wasn’t exactly how I’d imagined the evening going. 
“Have you just been lying to my face for the past three months?” Ellie asks, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting her lips. 
“Five,” Harry mumbles, almost just as an inside joke for the both of us to enjoy. I slap my hand against his shoulder to shut him up but the damage is already done. 
“Five months!” Even Theo’s joining in now. “How didn’t we know?” 
“It didn’t start out like this honestly, we would’ve told you.” I try and explain, eager for this to quiet down so we could get to the roast dinner waiting for us in the oven. 
“How did it start?” Nick pokes, drawing Julia and Ellie’s attention as the same puzzled expressions adorn their faces. 
“Unimportant,” Harry brushes off, standing up to tower over us all and reaching a hand back for my own. “We better get dinner, we wouldn't want burnt potatoes.” 
Harry pulls on my arm gently, leading me out the room before anyone can object. 
In the kitchen, he picks up a tea towel and starts to check on the food, prodding at the parsnips. I roll my eyes as he ties his lavender apron around his waist and tentatively pulls the potato tray from the oven. 
“Harry..” I sigh, trying not to laugh as he turn to face me, spatula in hand. 
“Yes dear?”  
“What was that?” 
“Oh - You’ve gotta shimmy a little spatula under the potatoes or they’ll break apart-” 
“No, obviously not that,” He makes it so hard so stay stern, a giggle leaks out as he lifts a hand to rest on his hip. “Why did you do that?” 
“I want them to know.” drops his utensils, tone sincere as he takes another step towards me. “I want our friends to know how much I love you already, and you remember about my mustard cords so..it felt like the perfect time.” 
“What?” I stutter, looking up at him from where he’s pulled me into his chest. His hands rest on my waist, rings a little hold against my exposed skin. 
“You remembered the trousers I lost last month in LA -”
“You love me?” 
His eyes go a little wide, a smile peaking through as the sides of his mouth quirk upwards. Realising what he just said, he lifts a hand from my waist to rest it against my face and lean down a little. 
“Of course I love you.” He whispers, his voice a little croaky and I can see tiny droplets gathering in his eyes that make my heart flutter. 
“Love you too..” I mumble. I wipe a thumb over his cheek before pulling him down into a kiss. I feel his smile against my own, and everything’s perfect for just a second. 
“So you’ll come to Christmas with me?” 
. . . . .
Hiii I hate the ending :)
Tysm for reading !! pls leave a like or reblog (it rlly helps <3) if you enjoyed it x
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pinencurls · 4 years
Text
“harry’s stylist, right?” part II
Harry and his stylist go from colleagues to friends to lovers because they’ve been in love with each other from the jump
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this gif bc i couldn’t fine the fit i wanted to showcase, but that night him and y/n get closer than they had gotten before :))
and we’re back :) - this is the last part of this i may do some little blurbs and stuff about these two if people want it (maybe) i hope you all enjoy this part, it’s not proofread so sorry about that lol. Feedback and reblogs are so very very appreciated, also feel free to message me about you’re feelings about this
Word Count: just over 10k | Warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, implication of smut, i think that’s it
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pinencurls · 4 years
Text
of the jealous kind
summary: you and Harry are out at the local farmer’s market when a girl starts flirting with you and Harry gets jealous. only thing is, you don’t exactly realize she’s flirting with you. classic wlw vibes, am i right ladies? (please say yes)
my submission for @bopbopstyles and @harrysclementines bi-ficathon!
a/n: fun times with Harry calling you “his girl” and being just a bit pathetically jealous (his words!) also i might continue this…in a smut type of fashion… if y’all are interested
word count: 2.2k 
“Oh, let’s stop over there! I want to get one of those chocolate chip custard things,” you exclaimed, spotting your favorite bakery stand at the farmer’s market and dragging Harry along by your joined hands. 
“A’right, love, m’comin,” he laughed, trying to keep in step with your suddenly quickened pace. 
It was a Sunday morning, cloudy but not too cold, and you and Harry were visiting your favorite farmer’s market in town. You tried to come here at least twice a month if your schedules allowed it. Today, it just so happened, you both had the entire day free to spend with each other. 
Harry knew you had to look at everything the bakery had to offer before you inevitably bought the same items as usual (a good, crusty country loaf and the same danish you never remembered the name of). There was a produce stand across the way that immediately caught Harry’s eye, a “buy 2 get 1 free” sign atop a display of various berries calling out to him. You noticed his distraction, the two of you speaking at the same time.
“M’gonna-” 
“Go on, then.”
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pinencurls · 4 years
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freud: EVERY dude wants to fuck his mom and and EVERY girl wants to fuck her dad and also wants to be a man secretly 
men: WOW!!!!!!!!!
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pinencurls · 4 years
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Mitch absolutely destroying his guitar solo in She at The Forum (via lecyflustyles)
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pinencurls · 4 years
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Home to Me
A/N: this was originally a patron-exclusive piece but you guys get it now! This is pretty angsty and was originally like a blurb request, but it’s fairly lengthy and I kinda love it with my whole heart?? anyway, enjoy!
WC: 4,593
Y/N sniffles again and takes a shaky inhale of breath. “I uh… I’m being discharged,” she tells him through a choked sob. There’s a silence between them and Harry’s torn. He’s about to see his baby girl again but on what grounds? What happened?
He swallows dryly. Harry’s sitting up in bed, scratching at the back of his neck and his eyes are pinched closed. He’s trying to stop his heart from hammering as he finds the words to say. 
“Okay… okay, tha’s okay… wha’ happened?” He coos.
or
Y/N’s a nurse in the army and Harry just wants her back home with him.
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pinencurls · 4 years
Text
“Harry’s stylist, right?”
Summary: Harry and his personal stylist are great collaborators, on screen and off. She helps his visions come to life and in turn they’ve become close friends. As she helps him to bring his fashion dreams come to life during the Fine Line era, will some other dreams come to life as well?
or
Harry and his stylist go from colleagues to friends to lovers because they’ve been in love with each other from the jump
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this fit is very important to this part lmaooo - I literally have no idea what to call this lol, anyway I’ve been sitting on this for forever and I wanted to get something out for yall and i love this story there will be a part 2 when i get to a writing mood. I love this story bc its my literal dream - anyway!! pls enjoy and reblog and lmk what you think :)
Word Count: 14k | Warnings: swearing, drinking, tame for now, should be smut eventually - aka slow burn (what else would you expect from me at this point i guess)
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pinencurls · 4 years
Text
Kiss In The Kitchen
hiii okay so I have a couple one shots hidden away in drafts that I’m not 100% in love with but i enjoyed writing at the time so I thought I might as well share them :)  Here’s the first…
You couldn’t be prouder of Fine Line and all you want to do is support and congratulate him, even if it means ignoring the insecurities one song strikes in you. 
4k Words 
At first, you listened to it (almost) alone, Harry’s large headphones covering your ears as his new album played for you - you’d heard bits and pieces of it over the last year but never every song in it’s finalised form. The second time you listened to the album you quickly adored was at its release party; a contrast setting to the quiet of the Saturday sun sneaking into your bedroom with Harry’s earnest gaze set on you as you spoil yourself in his words - you could almost forget the album was written entirely about the woman Harry devoted all his love to before you’d met, it felt so private between the two of you. You’d visited the studio several times, lending your own advice when Harry met droughts of no inspiration and begged for your musical experience; You’d been in several small bands in your formative years, playing bass or drums, but had paused that particular pastime to focus on the reality of your career - writing took time in this industry, supporting yourself whilst avoiding the well of tabloid work was tricky, so far you’d managed to find little nuggets of gold in genuine, thought-provoking magazines and had begun to make a name for yourself, something you’d doubted possible in the harder of times.
You’d chosen to keep your lyrical advice to yourself when Harry called to you for help, however. You knew who this album was about, it was clear it wasn’t you and that was fine. You didn’t expect Harry to dedicate a whole album about you after 11 months together, all of which dating after he began writing it.
In private, sat on your bed and grinning up at him as his music played to you and you only - you were proud. You’d accepted the difficulties that might come with listening to your partner’s rawest emotions for a past lover and had come to the conclusion that you’d appreciate his work simply because of how much he’d put into it and how well it’d all come together.
That was easy in private. It’s slightly harder to remind yourself to separate the songs playing loudly all around you in the busy L.A club from all the not so hidden meanings behind them. Everyone Harry had met within the last few years of his solo career and long before that had come to celebrate with him. Busting bodies filled the large room, many already taking advantage of the bar. Almost everyone found themselves, slightly slurring, by Harry’s side at one point of the night to tell him how beautiful Fine Line was, and the topics of each song didn’t seem to go unnoticed either.
As you made your own rounds, you overheard the loud discussions about the mix of provocative, solemn and affectionate themes. Some of the group were apparently too drunk to see Harry’s current girlfriend standing by as they cheered on his yearning and passion for his previous one.
It only got worse with press. You were still unbelievably proud of course, but Harry had to do a lot of press. Each interviewer cut straight to the elephant in the album. Camille was discussed, if not named by Harry, at length. You adored hearing Harry speak about his own personal growth and becoming comfortable in himself - but for every question about identity and fashion, came three about the clear sexual undertones and soulmate ideologies.
You were rational in your discomfort. You listened to Adore You and your other stand out favourites when you wrote, you understood and trusted that Harry had moved on, you’d been together for almost a year and he’s told you weeks before then when you were just new friends that he knew he was ready again after months of working on himself.
You just couldn’t deal with one song.
Breaking up and having sex you could deal with, you could enjoy the final work. They were normal things that people went through and wrote about. But the first sign of love? The sweet, endearing start of a relationship that he was so clearly ardent about - as if his feeling were a lot fresher than you’d imagine for a relationship that started and ended months ago.
Sunflower Vol.6 was beautiful, but as hard as you tried, you couldn’t just see it objectively. You felt it so concentrated, and it hurt like fucking hell.
- - -
“Do we have any mango?” Harry calls from the kitchen, the click of the fridge opening quietly behind him. “Never mind found it!”
You smile at his domestic charm as you work on you most recent piece; it’s been taking up a lot of time, creeping into your weekend which hadn’t gone unnoticed by Harry as he had returned from the morning run you usually went on as a couple. A few moments later, after the loud whirring of the blender stopped, a pinky-orange smoothie is placed beside you and kiss pressed to the side of your head.
“When’re you gon'a be done?” He murmurs against your ear, curls flopping down onto your own.
He’s just finished his last week of press, ending with Howard Stern who seemed eager to remind Harry, constantly, of all the women he could have. You weren’t particularly public yet so you couldn’t really blame him for assuming Harry would be starting a new relationship soon. It just added to the frustration you’d been careful not to disclose over the long period of promo for the album.
“I wanna finish this today so we’re both free after we fly back, I'jus need a little time alone, yeah?” A low grumble and a “yeah” was the only response he gave and he removes himself to the other side of the big living room to lay down on the sofa and slurp his breakfast.
Your deadline is Monday but tomorrow morning you’re flying back to London and driving up to Holmes Chapel to spend time with Harry’s family before he was away on tour for months so you were eager to be free from work.
Hours tick by, you’re stuck in the spiral of the final edit. There were a few words that you couldn’t quite tweak how you wanted them, as always. You got up to make lunch.
As you pass through the living room you expect to see Harry’s body sprawled across the sofa napping, but only a bundle of throw blankets lay where he had been. His journal sits abandoned on the side table, propped open by a loose pen. You can see the scribbling of new song ideas and the beginnings of a poem, smiling to yourself you walk through to the kitchen - still no Harry.
Humming to yourself you open the fridge door, moving your hips slightly as you retrieve all the ingredients of a sandwich for you and Harry. Domestic moments like these were hard to come by in the midst of album releases and pre-tour prep, but you’re looking forwards to the month ahead of you. No doubt you’ll need some alone time after a week at his mother’s house so you’re being careful not to take any assignments for the rest of the month to make room for as many simple moments like this as possible once you’re back in your London home.
Over the rustle of the bread packet and the crunch the lettuce made as you slice it, you can hear Harry’s voice approaching from down the hall.
“Well thanks, mate-yeah..yeah we’ve gotta get drinks sometime it’s been too long.” He has the smile on his face that tells you it was another old friend calling to congratulate him on his album, probably a fellow musician from the early days.
Harry makes his way to your side, watching as you layer food into your sandwiches and steals a shred of lettuce. You can hear the other voice now - a clear English drawl you recognise as Ed. You’ve met a couple times and he’s one of the most genuine men you’ve met, you much prefer him over some of the industry people Harry has to mingle with.
“Oh, dude and the mushrooms!” You giggle as you hear Ed laugh down the line at Harry. “I can’t say I didn’t guess something was up.”
“Thanks, man - like what?” Harry chuckles back, sneaking more sandwich scraps as you slice a knife through them and dish them up.
“Um, the whole end of sunflower - are you really gonna do that live?” At the mention of the song, you feel your shoulders tense slightly. You’re really trying to be a good girlfriend and support Harry - but that song just hits different, you trust Harry’s love but you can’t help but wonder if he has any feelings left over for Camille…
“If I have to!” Harry continues to joke, not noticing your discomfort or at least not mentioning it.“Look, Ed, I gotta go but it was great talking to you”…
Harry’s voice drones into the background as you take your plate and make your way back to your laptop, huffing as you’re reminded of your own frustrations with yourself; he told you months ago that he’s moved on, why can’t you just believe him?
You can hear a quiet goodbye from Harry as he sets his phone down on the sofa and sits across from you at the table. Your laptop is still acting as a barrier between the two of you. You type at the keys, trying to look busy as you write and rewrite the same line over and over, sighing - you save and close the file and set your laptop aside.
“Not going how you want?” Harry asks.
“No, it is just…there’s a bit I can’t get to work. I just want to get this over with already.” Harry thinks about what you’ve said for a moment before getting up and leaving the room - he comes back a moment later, setting a glass of water bedside your lunch and kissing your temple.
“Take a break love, you’ve been working all week you deserve it.” He hums against your hair. “And thank you for lunch.”
He’s so sweet and chipper, smiling at you as he takes his plate out to the kitchen and returns to perch across the table from you, hand wavering over his journal as you finish your lunch.
He worries about you a lot. Normally over you working too much and not taking time for yourself or the amount of pressure, you put on yourself being overwhelming. It was in his nature to worry you remind yourself, you’re trying hard to push past the hurt you can’t quite let go of and the last thing you’d ever want was for him to feel bad about what he’d written so you’d managed to keep it under wraps. There was no need for him to be suspicious.
- - -
Your alarm goes off at 5am. Your flight is in 3 hours.
“Turn it off.” You grumble, burying your head deeper into your pillow. The mattress dips underneath you when Harry turns, the duvet shifts as he slips his hand under and wraps his arms around you. “S'too early.”
“I know.” You love how Harry’s voice sounds in the morning - rough with a soft edge. It’s one of the first things you fell in love with; the extra degree or two the morning adds to his embrace, he’s always quick to loop his arms around your middle if they’ve come undone in the night. His untamed and often tangled curls bristle against the back of your neck and there’ll be a few moments of warm even breaths against your ear before he bounces up. He’s very much a morning person.
“I’m getting in the shower y/n, I’ll be out in a sec - get up yeah?” You mumble a slightly coherent response as he leaves the room, a towel draped over his bare shoulder.
Following a few moments of deliberation, you sit up. Unplugging your phone from where it lay on your bedside table, you check your notifications. Sure you’ll be up in time, you open twitter.
Unsurprisingly, nothing much is happening. You scroll through a few messages from the day before until you come across a video of Harry being interviewed, he’s wearing the thick red cardigan he recently bought so it must’ve been from this week.
You click play to see him smiling tiredly at the interviewer - you remember this day, you’d stayed up later than planned watching old toy story reruns then he’d been running around frantically getting ready the next morning. You lazily watch him answer a few frequently repeated questions until he’s asked about the stages of romantic relationships that inspired certain songs. You expect the usual questions about songs like Adore You and Watermelon Sugar but instead, the interviewer takes a turn and seemingly voices all the concerns floating around your head;
“And one of my personal favourites: Sunflower vol.6, really captures the first realisation of love in a relationship, what lead you to write that song in particular, did you write from experience?”
“Thank you, yeah..I think that first really overpowering part of a relationship when two people are just starting to have these intimate, lovestruck moments together stuck with me and I-” You turn your phone off sharply. Your mind is spiralling with insecurities enough on its own without Harry himself describing how he first felt about his ex-girlfriend.
You sit against the headboard, mulling over the topic that has clouded your mind the past few days. You don’t hear the shower turn off down the hall as you let out an angry grumble - it feels so shit and mean of you to be this way and you just want the clarity you had before this all happened.
“What’s wrong love?” You look up to see Harry standing at the end of the bed. His hair is dripping onto his shoulders and he’s wrapped a light pink towel around his waist loosely, concern contoured his face as he peers down at your huddled form.
“Jus’ tired.” You crawl forwards to climb out of bed, kissing Harry’s cheek lightly as he stood unconvinced before heading to your wardrobe. “Honestly, I’m good.”
“Okay..what’s the time?”
“Uhhum-” You mutter as you riffle through a pile of sweaters. “5.30ish I think..check my phone”
You slip on a comfy pair of jeans and socks before you walk into the hall on your way to make you both coffee, there’s a long pause from the bedroom before Harry calls down to you - 5.42am.
- - -
By the time the plane takes off, you’re almost asleep again.
- - -
It’s 7pm LA time when you step out the taxi delivering you home to your London house. It’s almost 2 am here so despite your lack of tiredness you shuffle through the door behind Harry.
All your heavy luggage is left in the entryway as you climb the stairs up to your bedroom, eager to be done with jet lag and normal again by the morning.
You’ve made the mistake of sleeping the first 3 hours of the flight and now find yourself wide awake under the soft covers of you and Harry’s bed. He always falls asleep as soon as he hits the pillow, and with how quiet he’s been all day you assume he’s already tired. Between your early napping and him being engrossed in the book he was currently reading - there hadn’t been much conversation between you on the flight over. As you snuggle further into the covers you realise things have been a little different these past few days, maybe being so caught up in your own head with work and worries of your own you haven’t noticed but there’s definitely been a…distance. You’re just not sure which of it is creating it.
The next morning you wake to the radio playing from a few rooms away. Sitting up you look around the room; your suitcases are still downstairs by the look of it and Harry’s side of the bed has been slept in and now deserted.
“Harry?” You call out. There’s some kind of foggy sadness seeping around you as you hear no reply. Maybe you’re just tired but you feel you might start sobbing any minute - it’s a desperate feeling that you’re not quite sure how to quench.
“Harry..” You call again as you climb out the bed, slipping a large jumper on over your head, pulling the braids you’d plaited for the flight that had come undone and frizzy with sleep, over your shoulders. “Love?”
There’s still no response and you’re now on the final step of the long staircase. You walk quickly through the house towards a quiet humming you can just about make out. You must have gathered speed in your anxious mission to find Harry because as you enter the kitchen you slam hard into the doorway as you reach out to balance yourself.
The movement in his peripheral makes Harry turn his head, slipping the bulky headphones off his ears and slipping his phone into his pocket. He’d previously been slumped against the kitchen counter, lost in thought as he skimmed through his phone, forgetting the kettle as it boiled beside him.
“Love- oh, careful.” He chuckles slightly before he takes in your expression. You must have started crying by now because he rushes quickly towards you. “Woah- woah what’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself?”
The arm that had taken the full brunt of the doorway was now being carefully examined by Harry as his eyes scan you, searching for any harm. His hand comes to wipe at the few glossy tears on your cheek before he gently asks his question again.
“No I-I was calling for you…” You reply, equally confused as him by the whole situation.
“I didn’t hear you love I’m sorry, what happened?” He’s placed your arm back by your side now although his hands lingers around yours.
“…Nothing.”
“Y/n, please just tell me. What’s wrong?” He persists.
“No, I mean - nothing happened I just…” You mumble, how were you supposed to explain that when you woke up you felt terrifyingly alone and just needed to find him…to remind yourself that everything you’d let conspire in your head wasn’t really happening.
“Y/n, I know something’s up..the last week has been really busy I know but if something’s wrong please just tell me, okay?” You think about it for a second before blurting out-
“Would you tell me if you still loved her?”
This doesn’t seem to be at he was expecting, or you for that matter. The situation was uncomfortable - hearing your boyfriend sing about how intensely he loved Camille and how badly losing her broke him, but it was just music. You don’t realise until you ask him the awkward question, just how much it had been bothering, or scaring you.
“What?”
“I just mean…Okay shit I don’t mean that at all I’m just tired and I woke up and you weren’t there and I just needed to find you I-”
“Is this what’s been upsetting you?” His words aren’t spoken forcefully, more…sadly. “T-this is what the phone call and the yesterday morning and…oh God the whole fucking flight! That’s what you were thinking?”
“What phone call, what do you mean?” You don’t know if he’s angry at you or not, his hands are in his hair and he’s got the mad look in his eyes that tells you he’s either about to shout or cry.
“With Ed. As soon as he mentioned the album you left the room and, and! Yesterday, you were angry about something and then I checked the time and your phone opened on some video about the album and come on…you can’t say everything was okay on the flight…we barely talked…we’ve barely talked at all this week.” You’re decided that the crying is a lot worse than the shouting. There’s something cathartic that comes from shouting back at someone who’s just as angry as you - but crying back at someone who’s just as confused and upset? It makes you feel all twisted and uncomfortable.
“No..no Harry that’s not it-”
“Y/n don’t lie I-”
“It’s not. I love your album and I’m so, so proud of you, and of everything you did to make it and I understand the importance of your relationship with Camille,” Harry’s huffing now, his fingers are tangled further in his hair and he’s leaned up against the door frame close opposite you. “-This album is all about that time in your life and that’s fine…Harry I love it, honestly, the album isn’t anything to do with anything-”
“You just asked me if I still loved her!” He exclaims, staring wide-eyed back at you. “I don’t give a shit about the album right now, you can hate it, okay? That’s okay? But you asked me if I still love her…Y/n look at me.”
Your eyes, tightly fixed on the kitchen tiles, tilt up to see his face. His eyes are red and splotchy and his hands reach out to hold you as he speaks again.
“I don’t love her, I haven’t in a long, long time. I had the ideas for all the songs about her before I even met you, you okay..you’re the person I love and…I thought you knew that?” He sighs, hesitant before he starts again. “I thought you trusted me.”
There’s another pause between you as you mull your next thoughts over.
“I do.”
He shakes his head, teary and angry.
“No you don’t, if you did you wouldn’t have asked-”
“It’s just that fucking song!” You snap, you take a sharp breath in and swallow the lump in your throat - “I know that you don’t love her, I know it but, when I listen to you sing - and talk, telling people about this wonderful honeymoon romance that even after years you remember so vividly and, and that means so much to you,I…”
“Track 9?” Harry questions, seemingly understanding everything you’ve just rambled. “Sun- oh baby no it’s not…”
“I’m sorry I…It’s a great song I just, whenever I hear it I’m reminded of how much you must have felt for her and, and remembered all this time to write about…what?” Harry’s smiling now, he seems to be relived for some reason. His eyes are brighter, clearing slightly and he chuckles slightly.
“It’s all my fault, I’m so sorry lovie I should have told you..” He scrambles. “I, I was embarrassed when I wrote it because we’d only just started dating and then you heard it a couple weeks later and it was too soon to tell you and then I just…didn’t. I thought maybe you’d figured it out.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s about…us.”
“You told me you didn’t write any about me though…”
“No, I said I hadn’t written any you were going to see anytime soon…and that was, awhile ago.” He smiles slightly, squeezing your hand in his. “There’s another one about you actually too,”
“Harry you, you wrote it about us..” Harry hums a confirmation, bowing his head to press a kiss to your cheek. “I thought…what else did you write!”
Harry laughs now, catching your lips with his as you both feel each other relax - the tension and discomfort seeping away as you realise the reality of everything you’d worried yourself over in the last week.
You pull away, one hand on his chest and the other fiddling with the curls at the back of his head.
“Seriously what else did you write-”
“I’m not telling.” He beams, leaning down against the firm push you send to his chest.
“I swear if you wrote a song about our sex life I-”
“Shhhh!” He presses a mocking finger to your lips to quiet you. “We better be going, don’t wanna be late.”
With that, he leaves the kitchen, you can hear his heavy steps rushing up the stairs and soon the house is quiet and the air around you is settled again.
There’s a subtle hum of the shower upstairs that intrudes but nonetheless, the clarity’s back.
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pinencurls · 4 years
Text
“it’s not that important”
Summary: Y/N is in Harry’s band and one night they have a drunken hook up. One thing leads to another and they find themselves engaging in a friend’s with benefits type of situation. spoiler: it is important
AKA: A friends with benefits to lovers story :) with some angst in there
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This is for @stylesharrys fallinharry10k celebration so my trope is friends with benefits! prompt is “you have no goddamn idea what you do to me. when i’m around you, i have no control of my emotions or my thoughts” and the tenth picture ^ i kinda just used it in the beginning to descripe what he was wearing - i got really carried away with this story but the prompt is in there !! lol, not proofread tho but would love your feedback !!!! :) love y’all very much 
oh boy i’ve had this done for agesss but i hadn’t written the smut until today so now we’re here i dont even remember what happens - i vaguely remember not loving the end but I hope yall enjoy
Word Count: 15.4k (longest fic to date) | Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, alcohol consumption? i dont remember but i dont think theres anything too heavy in here.
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“Hey Harold!” You smile as you easily hop over the side of the couch and settle beside your bandmate.
Harry groans, yet can’t keep the small smile off of his face when he sees it’s you. “How many times have I told you to never call me that?”
Your eyes narrow at his faux glare. “And how many times have I told you, I simply do not care?” 
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pinencurls · 4 years
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not your groupie
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summary: y/n doesn’t want to give up on her career to follow harry around on tour, and this causes them to re-evaluate their relationship
warnings: angst :(, mentions of sex
word count: ~1.3 k
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pinencurls · 4 years
Text
4 am freak out
TW for blood I guess. Not proof read  1.7k  words 
It already all felt so familiar. Eating dinner and fighting to wash the dishes before Harry inevitably wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her away from the sink. Despite her protests that he cooked them his famous curry so she really should wash up, he always fought it. Eventually, they’d stumble their way up the stairs, guided by kisses or hands held tightly towards the bedroom where they’d cascade in a pile of limbs on Harry’s king bed, fit with sheets Y/n didn’t doubt cost twice her rent. 
Y/n and Harry have been dating for five months now but with busy schedules throwing them to opposite sides of the Atlantic, Y/n had only spent the night at Harry's a handful of times. Sure she practically lived with him when he was home to quiet his persistent complaints of not seeing her enough in the short windows he had in London, but she had a cat and plenty of plants to care for so she'd often slink off home after their second rom-com of the evening and be back the next day after work to repeat.
 After Harry briefly serenading Y/n with his toothpaste-y rendition of Sunday Love and Y/n slipping an old tour tee of Harry's over her head, they were both on the cusp of sleep. Both their works demanded busy days and high energy from them so they were relieved to finally melt into the plush mattress and cocoon deeper into each other's holds. Between Y/n's soothing, even breaths and Harry brushing his thumb in circles over her knuckles, they were asleep in seconds. 
Y/n had gotten used to waking up Harry's arms squeezing tightly around her middle and a groggy voice murmuring good morning in her ear, so she was slightly confused when her eyes shot open and all she was met with was pitch black. Trying to get her bearings she glances around; Harry's fast asleep beside her, having rolled away from her slightly but still reaching a hand out to her in his sleep. As her brain wakes up and focuses on the situation, a sharp twisting pain clenches her stomach. Y/n doubles over and reaches down to the mattress to stable herself and instead of the clean sheets she expects, he fingers meet a warm dampness that has her cursing under her breath. 
She'd been so preoccupied the last few days she hasn't even realised she was three days late for her period. Pushing the sheets off her legs to access the damage she almost starts crying right there. She'd bled through the pair of boxers she'd stolen from Harry weeks ago and straight onto the sheets in a dark red circle the blared up at her against the perfect white surrounding. She peels the comforter the rest of the way off her legs to save it from the dreaded area beneath her as she glances back over her shoulder at the sleeping figure, curls covering most of his face and soft snores escaping his lips. 
Harry seems undisturbed by her panicked shuffling and in a moment of instinct, she throws her legs off the bed and rushes for the bathroom. She hardly notices tears streaming down her flushed cheeks as she locks the door behind her and scrambles around desperately for her wash bag. She was sure she'd packed a pad or two in here a while ago when she'd been due and staying with Harry. Her breathing hitched and wavered unsteadily with the influx of sobs working their way out of her. She pushed her toothbrush and face cloths to the side and still, there was nothing, no hopeful crinkle of the purple package insight. Sitting back on her heels she dropped the small bag to the floor and covered a hand over her mouth to try and calm herself down. 
Fuck. Why was this happening? How could she go out there and just wake Harry up crying, he was going to be so mad. She couldn’t help but wonder how much her stupid mistake was gonna cost him.
As her breathing calmed to a point where she could at least plan how she was going to deal with the next few minutes, she rose to her feet again. A quick glance in the mirror has her shaky again at the sight of a glaring stain on her shorts but with little control she slipped the lock to the side and opened the bathroom door again, preparing for the embarrassment she was about to face.
She knows Harry's not the type to find periods gross or to make her feel embarrassed but she couldn't help but dread the whole situation. There was a sweet domesticity to Harry running her baths and calling her to ask which chocolate she prefers but Y/n was struggling to find anything cute in waking her boyfriend up at 4am to tell him she'd bled a small pool beside where he'd been peacefully sleeping.  
She couldn't just leave it be and expect him not to notice in the morning though. As much as she wanted to believe she could just catch a night bus home and never speak of it again, she treads softly towards his side of the bed and rubs his back, gently begging him to wake up quickly so this could all be over.
"Harry?" She calls lightly, running her fingers through his hair now - something she always did to wake him up when he was sleeping in on important work days they'd both rather avoid. "Harry, Love you've gotta wake up.."
He begins to stir now, grumbling under his breath and reaching out to grab the hand she'd had in his hair. With a light tug on her arm Y/n's falling into his side and is almost wrapped up in his spare arm when she pushes away from him, still acutely aware of the stain on her shorts she doesn't want to spread onto anymore expensive bedding.
"Y/n?" His face scrunches up in confusion as he reaches out for her again, propping himself up by his elbows when she takes a step back. "Baby..what's wrong?"
Amidst the adrenaline of getting the whole ordeal over with Y/n forgot about her tear stained, no doubt pretty red cheeks. They were clear to Harry as he sat up straight and finally pulled Y/n towards him, holding her in place between his legs as his hands came to cradle her face.
"Hey, what's wrong?" An onslaught of new tears simmered up in Y/n's eyes that Harry brushed away instinctively, concern building inside him as more time passed with no answers. "Y/n talk to me okay? What's wrong - what happened?"
"I-I'm so sorry..I was so busy and I, I forgot!" Harry's only more confused by this, tilting Y/n's face to make her looks at him directly for the first time since he woke up. "I swear I'll clean everything or replace it just please don't be mad."
He caught on to her hand hovering over her stomach and how her eyes were flitting back between his face and over his shoulder to her side of the bed. Despite her quick efforts to keep his head facing her, he turned and saw the small red splotch behind him. Instantly reassured he turned back and pulled her again to straddle his waist, guiding her head gently to rest in the crook of his neck.
"I'd never be mad at you Love, never okay?" Her head lulls back to look up at his face, the tiredness creeping back in as he cradled her.
"I'll buy you new sheets I promise - and I'll be more careful next time I-I just forgot and shit-" She scurries back off his lap, looking down at her shorts in a panic again. "I-Fuck I'm sorry I ruined your bed and your boxers and now it's probably on you and I-"
"Woah woah!" Harry hated this, hated that she was so frightened of how he might react and so sure that he'd be angry. "Take a breath okay? You're not gonna buy me anything, we're just gonna put everything in the wash and run you a bath yeah, yeah?"
"Yeah.."  She mumbled, giving into his persistence and laying against his chest again.
"S'just blood Lovie, 's nothing to be mad about." Her head bops slightly as she nods against his neck and Harry can finally take a deep breath again. It definitely wasn't his favourite thing in the world to be woken up by his sobbing girlfriend a 4am with no explanation of who might be hurt.  
"Let's get you your bath yeah," He coos, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
"It's half four Har.." She giggles, leaning back to catch another glimpse of his face to find a sleepy smile on his lips.
"I'm gonna make it better though," He glances down at where her palm's still pressed flat against her abdomen. "It hurts?" He mumbles as more of an explanation than a question.
"A little bit..jus' wanna sleep though." Harry nods, leaning forwards to stand with Y/n still in his arms. "Har- Where are you going?"
"Might have to sleep in the guest room tonight, Babe." A quick wave of embarrassment surges through Y/n again as she'd completely forgot the reason they were awake so late for just a moment.
"'m sorry I-" She rambles as they make down the hall to the spare room.
"Stop apologising!" Harry throws her playfully down onto the guest mattress, coming to prop himself up on top of her. "Stay 'ere, gonna get you s'more shorts."
"Wait I-" Y/n grabs his wrist stopping him for a second, "I don't have any pads Har..."
It's her turn to be confused now as he looks back at her with his eye brows scrunched together.
"I got you some.." She shakes her head as he nods back at her. "Yeah, under the sink there's a ton...didn't know which ones you liked."
Y/n almost feels like melting, a smile pulling at the sides of her mouth as she's plunged back into the domestic ease being at Harry's always brought.
"Awww Harry!" She gushes, playing with his fingers and admiring the light blush on his cheeks. "You're so sweet."
"Shud'up" He grumbles, pulling his hand from hers and running off to gather supplies before she catches the tomato splotches now covering his cheeks and the tips of his ears.
                                       Requests are always open !!
Hiii sorry this was kinda short I just really wanted to write something today and this is what came out first !
My masterlist 
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pinencurls · 4 years
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all my writting :))
New fics at the top and older at the bottom :)
Requests are ALWAYS open ✉️
One Shots 
“I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.” 14k+
My entry to @stellarboystyles‘s three year anniversary fic challenge!               Enemies (more like friends but oops) to lovers, prompt 9 “I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.” 
Kiss In The Kitchen 4k+
You couldn’t be prouder of Fine Line, even if one song breaks your heart.  
Fine Line Era, Bf!Harry 
Feels Like Home 5k+
A trip to visit Bestfriend!Harry pulls up feelings from the past and ends up...complicated. 
Bestfriend!Harry, hints of friends to lovers but very lightly sprinkled. 
Oh Honey 3.6k+
Italy, bike rides and a sun burnt Harry. 
Bf!Harry, Mitch and Sarah !!!!
Blurbs 
4 am Freak Out   1.7k
TW:Blood Bf!Harry 
Series’ Coming Soon
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pinencurls · 4 years
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Oh Honey
Hey! here’s the last of my draft one shots! Hope u enjoy and if u don’t remember I wrote this a g e s ago so you can’t blame me !
Italy, bike rides and a sun burnt Harry
3.6k 
These days, we wake in the early hours of the morning. It's hard not to stir when the sun rises so early and bright through the thin cotton drapes strung up over the bedroom window. Sometimes, we stay quiet. Exchanging a few murmurs of good morning wishes and lightly pressed kisses; silently decided to stay in each other's arms until the ungodly hours pass and breakfast is more tempting than bed.
I think it's Wednesday. I got pulled into the warped holiday time effect as soon as we arrived. I was free from jet lag at least, the flight from London to Italy only changing the clocks forwards about an hour. Harry had been less fortunate; the busy winding of work post-tour kept him out in Los Angeles a few more days than planned whilst Sarah, Mitch and I made our way to the holiday home we'd booked in Italy to celebrate a successful first tour. By the time Harry arrived in the white-walled villa tucked away comfortably in a small town - away from prying eyes, he was slow-moving and sleepy, although the afternoon was only just setting in. He'd eagerly drunk the coffees we offered and passed out around 5pm. Harry complained to me the next day that he was still exhausted, his brain and body were working nine hours behind after all-
"You shouldn't have slept on the plane, H." I mumbled, steadying the kettle over the large white mug as I poured hot water into Harry's second coffee of the morning. He'd been vocal about his dissatisfying sleep all of the two hours we'd been awake and my comment was seemingly unhelpful. He confirmed this by burying his face into my neck, head laying heavy on my shoulder, a low groan buzzing against my skin.
It took him a few days before he was fully himself again, but we've been here for a week now and everything's falling easily into long days by the pool and explorations into the cities either side of us. It feels oddly like a family holiday, I've known Sarah long enough; We grew up in the same town a few years apart, both moving away when we hit eighteen to pursue careers in similarly creative industries - music and journalism. We ended up at the same dinner parties and, for a few months before she moved to LA, we shared a shoebox flat in London.
She's the reason I met Harry; I stayed in her overheating LA apartment over the Easter break of 2017. We spent most days sprawled out on her sofa with all the windows thrown open, catching up on everything that'd happened since she moved away. She'd promised I could meet Mitch - a guitarist for the new band she'd started playing with whom she'd been dating for a few months. I'd heard bits and pieces about him as soon as they met, mostly about his brother-like closeness to the singer they played behind, and as promised, the Tuesday afternoon I opened her front door to Mitch, an equally long-haired-Hawaiian-shirt-clad boy followed.
Harry was goofier and unarguably louder, we paired up naturally in the group of four and it wasn't hard to get to know him, or to fall for the infamous charm I'd heard he was known for. To my pleasant surprise, it didn't feel odd when we joined in with Sarah and Mitch's couple-y activities - mini-golf, brunch, movie nights, I tagged along to a few studio sessions too before I had to go home. We promised to keep in touch but I was certain I'd probably never see him again, or at least not in the same way we'd spent the last week but, when he kissed me goodbye at the airport, I had a little hope.
"Hazzaaa!" Mitch calls loudly down the hall - no doubt on a temporary high from his new coffee addiction. There's no point responding, I can hear his footsteps storming towards our door before he swings it open and I can hide my face further into Harry's shoulder, who is unsurprisingly awake now.
"Go away Rodrick." I grumble, smiling at the rumble of laughter my nickname causes to ripple through Harry's chest.
"We've got bikes, Sarah's found a ride that's only a few miles - we're gonna get lunch." I could probably live here with Sarah and Mitch forever, there was only a few years difference between us but sometimes they felt like parents - or older siblings, cooing over me and Harry's relationship. I always felt part of something when we were all together, it wasn't so hard to imagine moving around each other in the same villa for the rest of our lives.
"Give us a sec Mitchy," Harry's waking up now, I roll over as he leans forward to sit, reaching out for the tea Mitch passes him. I hear mine clink down on my bedside table. "When're you leavin?"
"Thirty minutes?" Mitch replies, twisting his wrist to check the time on the ridiculously retro watch Harry had bought for his birthday. "S'already midday."
Harry hums, promising we'll be down in ten before Mitch accepts his mission of recruitment successful and leaves the room. I shift my head at the metal click confirming the door's shut behind him.
"M'gonna stay here," My face is resting in the crook of my arm, eyes closed as I try to cling to the last bit of sleep, "too tired."
The duvet shuffles slightly again with Harry's movements. He rests on his front now, his torso propped up as he leans his face down into my hair. I'm not sure if I'll ever get used to his smiley morning kisses or the smooth scratch when his curls fall over my own.
"It'll be fun," I turn beneath him, settling to listen to his groggy drawl, his accent is always thicker in the mornings, he strokes a wave of hair behind my ear to see my face. "We'll get a nice lunch - Sarah'n'Mitch'll fawn over some street cats, what more could you want?"
"Sleep..." I giggle, his classic pout having the opposite effect as intended. "I'll come next time, promise. Today I just wanna sleep a little more and maybe go for a swim."
He glances down at me for a moment longer, hesitant to accept my excuse before swooping down to press a kiss to my cheek with a hum of approval and bounding out of bed. He tugs a white t-shirt over his head, pulling it down his torso to reveal the smiling bee graphic - "Enjoy Health - Eat Your Honey." He tries to calm his slightly dishevelled curls in the mirror before he goes back to his long morning process of getting ready.
I could spend all day by the pool if nobody stopped me. It's small enough to fit cosily in the garden of the villa and still leave enough patio for lounging chairs and a small table. A row of citrus fruit trees line the fence at the edge of the garden, they offer a little shade over the far end of the pool in the afternoons when the sun reaches its peak. Every now and then a blossom will fall from the larger trees along the patio; the first day we were all together, Sarah, Mitch and I swam for hours until the evening breeze got too cool against our wet skin. Harry had been reading in a chair a few feet off from us and despite our noisy chatter, he'd fallen asleep, no doubt aided by his still slightly backwards body clock. I made my way over to wake him, the breeze must have been stronger than we thought because as I got closer I noticed tiny pink flowers nestled in his hair - they must have blown from the trees and landed on him as he slept. For hours after he trailed behind me inside through the patio doors, I was picking small blossoms from his curls, he was smiley and dopey from jet lag as he kept reaching his hands out to catch mine and pull me into his chest. I'd missed him for the last ten months when he'd been dazzling the world in flares and Gucci suits. I visited and travelled with him for a few show dates, of course, we'd even managed to spend Christmas and our one year anniversary together, but it was different spending so much time apart. Everything was still shiny and new to me when he left for his first solo tour - we'd only been together four months, most of which had been spent in his London house or weekends together in LA. The refreshing familiarity of being together again after so long hadn't quite rubbed off as we lay sprawled over the sofa, blossom abandoned for now.
"What're you thinking about?"
I look up at Harry, he's changed into a grandpa esque pair of brown drawstring cords I don't miss the little bow he's tied. He raises his eyebrows at me inquisitively when I don't answer, smirking slightly as my eyes wander up to his face.
"Nothing," I smile, pausing to yawn, "Just thinking about what 'm gonna do today."
"Sure you don't want to come with us?" He's collecting bits and pieces from around the room - his phone, wallet, sunglasses, but he peaks his head over his shoulder to look at me as he asks.
"Yeah, think I'm just gonna sit outside for a bit, I wanna catch up on a little bit of work."
His eyebrow quirks up slightly, the 'catching up on work' conversation is something we've had tirelessly throughout our fourteen months together. His work was obviously a little more...noticeable. When he was at work it was normally in a studio all day or sat in meetings, sometimes in a different city or country to me. I could work at home more at least; the articles and reviews I wrote almost always required me to spend a few days out of town to research the topic but once I had my notes, I could write from home. This sometimes lent itself to later nights sat up in my small study - work day blurring into the evening. Harry couldn't argue on it though, he did the exact same. His long hours out of the house didn't cancel out the long ones in, Jeff called any hour of the day with 'pressing matters' and even without external pressures, Harry was determined to get everything perfect, even if it meant tweaking new songs on his weekends off. Normally when he was overwhelmed by the workload of album deadlines and promo he was out in LA, where the pre-sleep chatter whilst we both got ready for bed wasn't an option.
"We're on holiday love, you can let some of it slide."
"It's not work-work, I just wanna write a little." I brush the topic away, it didn't need to abet the argument it'd triggered in the past. "Hurry up - Mitch'll run off without you at this rate."
"I wouldn't worry, don't think Mitch has run a day in his life." Harry chuckles, the goofy smile he wore the whole first day we met beaming back at me as he tucks his belongings in his pockets. He leans down to where I'm sat up over the duvet now, kissing me goodbye. "Be back in a bit, don't burn the house down."
"Promise not to - don't fall off your bike." I say as he pulls away. "Love you- now go, I can hear Mitch having a hissy fit from here."
He laughs. Everything's so easy here, it feels as if time has warped slightly and nothing's too hard anymore. The sun's almost at it's strongest now, defying the curtains and falling on Harry as he makes his way to the bedroom door, picking up his pace as Mitch yells up the stairs at him to 'Stop messin with your hair and come down already.'
"Love you!" Harry calls behind him. His heavy footsteps are followed by Sarah's laugh from downstairs and then the door clicks shut and everything's quiet again.
After an hour or so laying by the pool and a nap that might have lasted a little longer than planned, the sun beats a little heavy and I make my way inside. I've written a decent amount - I found myself recalling the last week here, dipping into more personal ground than I would usually. It's not that Harry and I's relationship is a secret anymore, after about eight months people caught on, but we were still private. He'd brush off interviewer questions about relationships and his 'status' and my social media profiles are free from the hundreds of cosy domestic Harry photos I might have posted if he was someone less in the public eye. It's hard sometimes, especially when I can't share a decent chunk of my photography and all the experiences I might have written about. My old film camera is sat on the kitchen counter now, no doubt filled with sweet moments that'll never see the light of day outside of the four people in them.
The fridge was pretty well stocked considering we'd spent a lot of evenings eating out. We'd taken an eventful shopping trip earlier in the week to the massive grocery store in the town thirty minutes down the road. We ended up buying too much fruit and bread and not much else. The trek home hadn't been considered as Harry and Sarah grew more and more excited over the fresh foods they were used to being shipped over and older than ideal, after it all, we ended up on a long single-tiered town bus, tote bags full and tucked safely on our laps. There one photo in particular of Mitchell standing at the bus stop, watermelon in his arms and a bemused expression on his face that I can't wait to see again once I get to the small camera store back home.
After scouring the shelves for a moment longer, I settle on a sandwich. I'm slicing crunchy lettuce on the old wooden board with swirly carvings around the edges when I hear the door open and familiar voices.
I smear a thin layer of mayonnaise over the contents of the bread before cutting two even triangles and wander out to the living room. Mitch and Harry are already lounging over two of the sofas when I get there, Sarah's nowhere to be seen but the sound of the shower running upstairs starts quietly through the house.
"Hey," I call, making my way over to the back of the black sofa Harry's laying over. "How was it?"
Harry peaks one eye open and reaches his hand up towards me-
"Good- what're you eating?" I steer my food away from his prying fingers as he swoops up to tear off a corner.
"Sandwich, didn't you just eat lunch?"
"Yeah but the portions were tiny," Harry whines slightly, reaching up in a second attempt, protesting when I love the bread away from him again. "I'm growing!"
Mitch laughs from the other side of the room. He swings his legs over the side of the sofa and stands up, rubbing his eyes slightly and trogs over to the stairway. "I'm gonna go shower."
"Good idea, you stink mate," Harry smirks cheekily, earning a glare from Mitch before he disappears up the stairs.
"How was it really, H?" I ask before taking another bite of my sandwich.
"S'good, we cycled for ages - it was actually really beautiful. You've gotta come with me sometime before we go home, although we need to find a different cafe- I paid €11 for the smallest burger I've ever seen."
"We'll bring a picnic or somethin'" I muse, thinking between chews. "I was thinking we could make something tonight 'stead of going out again, something summery maybe."
"Yeah?" Harry mumbles, rubbing his hand over his sun pink cheeks, "Like what?"
"Maybe pitas and some fruit- you bought enough kiwis to last us a lifetime." It's true, he'd claimed he had to in celebration of the tour coming to an end. "Here, d'you want the rest?"
Harry's eyes wander down to the remaining half of my sandwich I'm holding out to him, I try not to think too long about how I could watch his sleepy eyes light up for as long as he'd let me.
"I had something after you left earlier, I'm not that hungry." He looks up at me, unconvinced, but takes the plate anyway, quickly setting the plate on his lap and tucking in. Now that he's sat up in the light without the shadows of the dark cushions around him, I can see how pink is face really is. There's a blushing red along his cheeks and nose and the tips of his ears are bright pink. I brush my thumb over his ear softly, catching his attention as he winces slightly.
"Sorry- think you caught the sun a bit." He swallows the food in his mouth and nods up at me.
"Yeah, hurts a bit." I tilt his face slightly to see the other side - the pink continues down his neck and shoulders where it disappears under the tan lines of his t-shirt.
"Did you not put suncream on before you left?" His mouth full again, he just shakes his head. I smile slightly at how suddenly he's eased into his patient role, munching on his sandwich and peering up at me - ready for me to tend to his injuries. A soft grumble comes from Harry before I sigh - "I'll get the aloe vera."
I walk out into the cool tiled kitchen, opening the fridge again to retrieve the small pot of gel from the top shelf. It was one of the only sensible things we'd managed to buy during the kiwi shopping spree.
"And why didn't you have any suncream on?" I chastise him, giggly at his pouty expression. "It's right on the table, you know."
"You were in bed - I forgot." He eyes my movements as I tuck my leg undeath my body and sit opposite him on the sofa, twisting the cap off the small glass pot in my hands.
" M'I supposed to remind you of everything now, can't even remember suncream without me hey?" He shakes his head, curls tousled around his face. "Come here, stay still..."
I balance the pot in his hands and push his hair back and behind his ears, it'd gotten longer on tour and was threatening to grow into a curly lord farquaad territory. He keeps his head in place when I take back the pot and spread the cold gel over his nose, smiling slightly in surprise-
"S'cold." He watches as I scoop another load of aloe onto my fingertips and cover his cheeks.
"It's been in the fridge- how're your shoulders?" I ask once the gel is spread sufficiently over the pink tint that covered his face and the tips of his ears.
"Not so bad, it's just my face that hurts really."
I hum an okay, spinning the pot lid back on and placing it on the coffee table beside my lunch plate. Harry's hands lay limply in his lap, one reaching slowly to stroke the hem of my loose summer dress. I look up to see his slightly shiny face settling in a shy expression-
"I can be quite forgetful - might have to look after me forever you know." He smiles lovingly, looking up from where his finger and thumb play with the cotton of my dress, to meet my gaze.
"Oh forever, so you've got no plan to improve this bad habit then?" He laughs at my teasing and his smile broadens into a trademark Harry grin.
"Nah...S'okay though, I'll look after you too."
We all end up in the garden by eight pm, lying around the pool with platters of fruit and pittas full of salad and falafel. Harry has a stripe of suncream down his nose and he keeps trying to throw kiwi into Sarah's mouth, although it's ending up anywhere but. The pink in his cheeks has calmed down by now and he's stolen a blue scrunchie from my suitcase and tied a little bun on top of his head.
The hours tick by and the air starts to lose its humid warmth. Pair by pair we trickle back inside, Sarah and Mitchell retreating to their room first.
Harry's standing above me, barefooted in the grass and tipsy on wine. He holds out his hand to me and I take it, pulling myself up from the soft blanket we'd been laying on.
"Leave it," Harry says when I kneel down to fold it, "It's not gonna rain."
Before I can protest he's pulling me behind him and inside the sliding french doors. The tile floor's cold against the bottoms of my feet but the air inside is warm, Harry squeezes my hand in his and pulls me closer against his side, slinging his arm over my shoulders. He's soft and sleepy, and we make out way up the curling staircase clumsily in each other's arms.
I call goodnight to Mitch and Sarah before falling into my own bed. There's a second and then two familiarly inked arms curl around me and pull me into a warm chest. I'm a little drunk, sun-kissed and sleepy from the long conversations of the evening and it isn't long before my eyes are closing - the last noise I can hear is Harry's soft mumbling against my hair. I could definitely stay right here forever.
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pinencurls · 4 years
Text
Feels Like Home
Hiii this is another one shot I had in my drafts for awhile, hope u enjoy!! 
A trip to visit Bestfriend!Harry pulls up feelings from the past.
To find places that feel like home when you're so far away from your own is always a blessing. I often find myself cooped up in train carriages for long empty hours travelling up and down the country - sometimes to nearby neighbouring countries too, with only a book and the view for company. Work in the photography and journalism industry can take you pretty much anywhere, photoshoots and research pieces usually mean I have to travel frequently. I've probably spent more weekends in hotels the past few years than I have in my small London flat, its lavender walls presenting more as a storage place these days and occasional safe haven for when I return.
Most of it is manageable - and exciting, really really exciting. A few times a year a piece will land me in the States and away from my bubble of European arts and culture. The company I work for has a New York branch outside of the London one, so in the times that I find myself flying miles away from home, I'm lucky enough to be welcomed by one of my oldest friends' open arms - and his guest room.
Harry works a lot too, splitting time between London and New York, but on this trip - as always, he's sworn an evening out of his day to pick me up from the airport. I don't get to see much of him anymore, we grew up spending every summer in each other's houses, our parents' old friends from university, but he moved away three years before me and never came back, at least not in the same way that allowed youthful abandon to drive us into the woods to build forts and swim in the river, or make us forget how old we were and fall asleep on his mum's old sofa watching questionable rom coms. I'd happily slip back into our shared holiday practises - every time I visit him there's a shadow of nostalgia when he brings two teas and a joint out to the living room, the same smirk clear on his now slightly unshaven face.
I try to focus on that moment, only a few hours away now. We'll spend tonight and tomorrow together before he can't miss any more studio sessions and I have to report to the office and start my week of work - an article on the rise of youth activists in underprivileged areas of the city. It's a heavy topic but something I've been interested in for a while - I love the music and cultural subjects I've written on before but I've wanted to branch out into a more political field for awhile now. Sandy, my editor, assigned me this a few days ago, a smirk on her face when she nonchalantly delivered it to my desk Monday morning.
. ... . .
My arms are folded up against my chest at an unnatural angle - I've spent the last hour like this in an attempt not to elbow the snoring banker to my left who is, undoubtedly, taking up more than his fair share of the three-seat row. I can't see much good coming from waking him to point this fact out so I stay settled in my awkward position. An eight-hour flight in the middle seat was never going to be comfortable anyway.
My morning had been typically rushed, I missed breakfast in favour of catching my flight before it left without me and found myself bustling through the crowds of families, business people and tourists that fill the airport as soon as I leapt out of the taxi. I didn't have to check any luggage in so sped through security straight to the gate being called overhead. I swear I've got to stop booking early flights if I'm never going to wake up in time to get a croissant from Pret en route.
I turn my focus to the phone in my hands and slip my headphones over my ears. There's only an hour left until we land, seeing no point in starting an inflight movie now, I open my "calm times" playlist and close my eyes. Soon I'll be sleeping on an unnecessarily expensive mattress bigger than this whole row.
. ... . .
"Excuse me, M'am?" The chipper voice of a flight attendant wakes me up, slightly muffled under the Adrienne Lenker song that continues to play through my headphones. The seat to my right, previously filled by a woman a few years older than me, is empty. On my other side, the suit-wearing man spreader is starting to stir. "We'll be landing shortly, please secure your seatbelts and pack away any loose items."
I stumble over a quick 'Thanks' as she leans out of our row and moves on to the next, her perfect customer service smile ready again. The missing woman makes her way down the aisle towards us and takes her seat, she seems hurried and agitated. Out the corner of my eye, I watch as she wrings her hands a few times, sighing heavily and leaning back in her seat. A nervous flyer. I lean over and pull my bag up from the small slot under the seat ahead and slide the book I'd taken out hours before, not having read a page of, back on top of my sweater and the wine gums I'd bought as a makeshift breakfast in my final flurry before boarding.
Overhead, the usual pre-landing announcements chime as people clip in their seatbelts and slip superstitious remedies between their lips. Suited man spreader has chosen a particularly eye-watering peppermint gum to finish our flight off with.
Closing my eyes I focus on the quiet music, too distant to take me out of my body as it's interrupted by the chatter of excited travellers and constant beeps around me. I don't hate flying, but I have developed a favoured fondness of trains. I've seen the ins and out of so many towns and mindlessly people watched for hours, always having the option to hop off at the next station and stretch my legs if any part of the journey is particularly unbearable or a city is too enticing to leave unexplored.
I fiddle with the two buttons along the side of my phone for a second, raising the volume a little and willing my thoughts away from the swooping plane as the familiar wary feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. Maybe I'm a nervous flyer too. But, with a clunk and a slight wobble, we're back on the ground. I keep my eyes shut a little longer, knowing the gridlock of impatient passengers to come is unavoidable. The orange light above me dims and I release the seat belt that had been cutting tightly into my shoulder. The woman beside me is noticeably calmer and we share a giddy - we're strangers but we're smiling at each other - look for a second.
I call Harry when I'm through baggage claim, having packed only a rucksack and a small duffel - both fitting as hand luggage, I head straight through customs where the queues are just starting to build up. I beeline to a near-empty desk on the far right as the dial tone rings against my ear for the third time-
"Hello!" Harry greets down the phone, his voice sounds far away, most likely using the speakers in his car whilst he parks - "M' just parking, love."
"I just got to customs, I'll be ten minutes - meet you outside yeah?"
"I was gonna come in, I'll only be a second." He always pushes to meet me before I make it out the airport, obsessed over the classic reunion scene from all his favourite rom coms. It was well-intended and actually really sweet but it wasn't worth the risk of new rumours being spread across the gossip sites if photos got out of Harry Styles meeting a 'mystery girl' at the airport, as I'd previously been labelled the few times shots of us out dancing in the city or talking over lunch in L.A had gotten out. Harry's protective over his private life and I prefer to keep out of his public one.
"I'm almost through customs...I'll literally be one minute Harry, just wait in the car - wait a sec..." I hold the phone up against my shoulder when I'm beckoned towards the free customs desk, smiling politely and sliding my passport towards the teller. I reply 'work' to her question and thank her when she pushes it back to me, freshly stamped with red ink. "-Okay I'm out, are you by the taxi bit again - you know you're not actually allowed to park there?"
"Actually I'm just...oh god you really are blind aren't you?" He laughs down the line, I look up, confused and only halfway across the long white room towards the exit. Even amongst the crowds, there's an unmistakable figure waving from the benches to the side, phone in hand. "Hey."
I laugh and hang up, slinging my duffel over my shoulder and making my way over to where Harry is now standing, an infamous grin etched across his face. Before I can complain about just how close I am to the car park already, he leans down and engulfs me in a hug.
"Been a while, hmm?" Out of instinct, my arms wrap around him and hold tight. He's right, it's been almost five months since we last saw each other in person. I was away the last few times he came home to London and he's always jetted back to L.A for important meetings by the time I'm on my way back. "Missed you, lovie."
Pulling away to get a better look at him, I rest my hands on his shoulders, his hair's a little longer, and he looks tired but cheery - as usual.
"I missed you too." There's that weird hesitant few second feeling when neither of us breaks eye contact and for a moment it suddenly feels surreal to have each other as real people you can touch and hold.
"Now help me with this bag - the flight fucking murdered my back."
He misses a beat and my duffel hits his leg abruptly, he grunts and grumbles for a second before picking it up and draping his free hand over my shoulder, turning us to face the exit. I forget for a moment that the group of very unsubtle girls on the other side of the room will fuel the newest dating rumour by the morning with photos of Harry pulling my against his side and holding my hand casually - like every few days out of the year we get to spend in each other company, it feels like we're fifteen again and blur into the background, too caught up in our own conversations to notice anybody else.
"Come on - I reckon someone's already pissed that I'm parked in the taxi rank."
... . .
It's late in my jetlagged brain, but not late enough in the city to miss the last bit of rush hour traffic. Harry taps his ringed fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of Peter Gabriels 'Sledgehammer.' I've pulled my knees up to my chest and slouched against the passenger door staring up at the busy lights and cloudy sky. My eyelids dip momentarily, the blurred scenery lulling me out of focus.
"Don't fall asleep on me, I've got a nice dinner planned yet." Harry protests, squeezing my hand in his, eyes on the road as he lifts and moves our now intertwined hands in the air, swaying along to the final chorus playing through his iPhone."C'mon, a little bit of Peter Gabriel should wake you up."
"I hate Peter Gabriel," I mumble and pull my hand from his, poking his cheek when he lets out an exaggerated gasp. I can't help but laugh at his appalled expression, too distracted to object when he pulls my hand back into his and continues his fun as the speakers click and a new song comes on.
Our faces glow yellow against the street lights. My legs ache and my head feels heavy - I tilt it back against the window and watch as Harry sings along to an old Scott Mckenzie song. He's let our hands fall against my seat now, focusing on the busy roads as he turns closer to his apartment. I notice now, for the first time, his subtle disguise; the grey hoodie and dark shades pushed back in his hair. He looks...soft. He laughs when he slips off-key and shoots me a glance, smiling again when he takes in my half-asleep state. He squeezes my hand, his rings are cold and clunky and wake me up a little. I peer out at the road ahead - Harry lives fairly near the airport so we must be getting close, the cafes start to look familiar and I figure we're only a few minutes from home, and sleep.
I wake again at the jolt of the car stopping and the consistent white noise of the engine cutting off when Harry's keys clatter against each other. His door opens and shuts - I think I'm awake?
I must have shifted slightly in my sleep because when the passenger door swings open I stay upright against the seat. I look up to see Harry's hand stretched out towards me.
"C'mon, missing my luxury homemade dinner s'gonna be a lot more comfortable in a real bed" He teases, his smile yet to leave since I first saw him twenty minutes ago sat on that bench - sticking out despite his 'disguise'
I take his hand and tumble slightly haphazardly to stand, looking up briefly to see Harry with both my bags over one shoulder, lifting his free arm to wrap around me. We start towards his building, moving easily through the lobby and into the elevator. I look up again from where my head's resting on his shoulder, surrounded by his hoodie. Yeah, he looks...soft.
When we get inside I head straight to the guest room, nudged forwards by Harry's instructions for me to get some rest before he starts dinner - I've stayed in Harry's apartment enough times to know my way around fairly well, the guest room, where I always stay, is down the hall on the left. The bed is made and there's a fluffy white robe folded on the nightstand. Already head to toe in comfy travel wear, I clamber under the duvet and breathe in the freshly washed sheets - washing detergent with a hint of Harry's vanilla aftershave. My eyes are heavy and my thoughts wander a little. It feels like home.
... . .
When I open my eyes, it's to a darker room. Harry must have come in and closed the curtains while I was asleep, my bags have been leant up against the dresser too. I sit up and look around the room, rubbing my knuckles against my eyelids, still groggy from sleep, but hungry now, the lack of a real breakfast and unsatisfying plane food catching up to me. The alarm on the bedside table reads nine pm, I'd been asleep for almost an hour - I change out of my well-worn flight clothes and into a sweater and soft grey jogging bottoms Harry had left at my London flat last time he stayed over, although it'd been long enough ago they might as well be mine by now.
The kitchen sounds get louder as I make my way out of the guest room and down the hall, yawning into the crook of my elbow amidst pulling a soft yellow scrunchie off my wrist and taming my hair into a lazy, loose ponytail. Harry's occasional grumbles and soft singing fill my ears when I reach the end of the hall and get the full sight of him, in just a t-shirt and jeans now, leaning over a pan of spaghetti trying to twist a strand onto the fork in his hand before dangling in into his mouth with a light hum.
"How's it going, chef?" He turns to see me, eyes wide as he fingers the end of the pasta into his mouth and smirks down at me.
"S'good, was just about to come get you," He turns momentarily to fiddle with what looks like courgette and red pepper frying in a pan behind the spaghetti before looking back at me and motioning for me to bring him the plates he'd left stacked on the counter.
He mixes the courgette, pepper and a fresh-looking tomato sauce into the main pot and stirs it all together before filling my plate up and handing it back to me - all while looking incredibly pleased with himself. He nods over to the table and I set my plate down, taking two wine glasses from beside him and filling them with the wine he's just opened. After double-checking the stove's been turned off safely and our glasses are full, Harry takes the seat in front of me.
"So-" He starts, smiling up at me over the gorgeous dinner set in front of us. "How're you?"
A burst of laughter escapes my lips at the situation, We hadn't been in the same room for months and within the first hour of reuniting I'd fallen asleep, now we were sat down to dinner, ready to discuss our day like old times.
"I'm good, sorry I fell asleep before we could talk," He chuckles before taking a sip of wine, we hear about each other's lives at least once a week - usually phone calls when our jet lag causes our time zones to match up, and always texts throughout the week - this kind of small talk seems silly when I'd spoken to him just this morning before my flight. "How's your mum and Gem?"
"They're well, haven't seen Mum in a little while, every time I call she always seems more interested in you," He replies between bites of spaghetti, "Apparently you're quite the enigma these days."
"Wha-How!" Anne was like a sister to my mum so our families were always close growing up, she often acted just as motherly to me and my sister as she did her own children.
"You don't call anymore." Harry smirks, recalling a frequently used quote from Anne herself.
"That's such I lie - I saw her a few weeks ago when she came down to see Gem and I always call, it's hard you know, I have my own parents to keep track of too."
Harry laughs at this, pleased to have his mothers attention shifted from his own absence for once.
"I'm not sure, apparently she's been gossiping with your mum and you're never home anymore." He must not notice the irony of his words because he's hosting the smuggest expression, staring back at me over his glass.
"Hey - you disappeared first, I'm allowed to have my turn." I fire back, shaking my head jokily.
Harry doesn't seem to catch my light tone though, or he's not keen on my choice of words. He turns rigid opposite me and stares back, agitation brimming in his gaze.
"What's that mean?" He's not bubbly and blushing anymore, sober now with a steady assertive tone as he questions me.
"Come on Harry, m' just joking, relax," He doesn't. "You moved away years before me and never came back, it's not exactly a secret, I didn't mean anything by it."
His fork clatters when it lands on his plate. He puffs out a heavy breath of air before speaking up again, making no effort to hide is disdain this time.
"Fuck off, I came back." I look up to watch him, he hardly curses outside of mild frustration or a lighthearted voice, this is different. "That's not fair and you know it."
"I'm not blaming you Harry I was just making a joke - forget it." The remaining food on my plate is an unsuccessful distraction, nothing's enough to stop Harry when he starts.
"No, you always do this. I didn't disappear, I was working for five years and then I continued to work after that, I came home as much as I could so don't pretend I was all aloof or something." I'm used to holding his gaze through an argument, and this is an argument we've had before - "It was my job to travel for months at a time, you can't blame me for not being around every time we see each other like I just ran off and never called."
"So it's not work for me then?" I shoot back, instantly angry that he finds it so easy to offload all the blame onto me when he's the one who made a meaningless comment into a fight in the first place. "And it fucking felt like that."
Harry's quiet. I finish the last of my wine and pour a second glass.
"I came back."
"Not properly." I put my glass down and massage my fingertips over my temple, this isn't the time to unpack childhood grudges. "I'm only here for a week, can we not fight...please?"
Neither of us speaks for a few moments, my words linger in the air. We never have much longer than a few weeks together before one of us is off again, there's never going to be time to confront that stuff. The transition between only having Harry a few hours away, treating his home like mine on the weekends me and my sister, Ellie, would visit him and Gem and moaning our way through hellish GCSEs together (he was a year ahead so always had a little more to complain about) to him travelling the world and everyone knowing his name was almost nonexistent. It all happened so abruptly, Harry went to London for a few days to film his follow up audition and never came back. I didn't see him until the Christmas of that year, by which time he'd already moved into a place in London and experienced so much that it was hard to act like anything would ever be the same again.
"What did I do wrong, just tell me and I'll fix it, please," Harry begs, earnest as he finally speaks up.
"I don't blame you for anything Harry, I didn't mean it like that..."I sigh, wringing my hands out as nervously as the women beside me hours before on the plane. "Let's just have dinner, yeah? It's really nice Har."
We finish our food with a little more small talk, he asks how Ellie's doing even though he already knows from Gemma's updates that's he engaged now and thinking about moving to London, I ask after a few of his bandmates I met last time I was in L.A. Things are too quiet when we lay down on his sofa to watch the notebook for the 20th time. Neither of us recites the lines we know off by heart and always mock - the air hangs heavy with the lingering anxiety of an argument we're never going to settle, we sit apart stiffly and far too composed for film nights we've shared since we were kids before heading our separate ways to bed.
... . .
Work goes well, the young people I talk to pretty much write the article for me with how much insight they offer up. There are so many parts to the topic that deserve to be covered well that my workdays and evenings at Harry's blur together and soon I've emailing my final draft to Sandy for notes and packing for the airport.
Neither Harry or I have brought the first nights argument up and it looks like it'll be brushed under the rug before I leave tonight. There's been a definite cloud over the last week - I think a more before I speak and Harry's eyes linger on me a little longer when I do.
He stills seems frustrated by our fight, I can't blame him, I am too. He's sat on the sofa with a guitar in his lap, going unplayed as his eyes trail after my last-minute rush around the apartment to gather together all my possessions that had found themselves seeping out into his home over the past week. He watches closely, contemplating whether to speak or just let me go like nothing happened.
"Have you seen my sweater?" I call from the guest room, the wardrobe's empty and my bags are laying on the coffee table in front of Harry - my sweater missing from both.
"The one you brought with you?"
He appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame of the door and peering down at where I'm kneeling before the bed, searching through the very empty and sweaterless dresser, humming a response back at him.
"Yeah, that'd be mine." I snap my head back to look at him, he must be joking.
"Um no, it's mine," He smirks, eyes still sad but fainter now in the looseness of the moment. "I've had it for years, I bought it in Amsterdam in that little thrift store by the cafe with the really good bagels."
"No," He chastises. "I bought it in Amsterdam in that little thrift shop by the cafe with the really good bagels, and you took it home when you left."
He's definitely wrong. Sure I might not remember all of the trip I took to Amsterdam to visit him on tour, but I remember the hours we spent traipsing through thrift store on his day off munching on really good bagels.
"Wrong - please return it now, kindly." I stand and hold out my palm to him.
"No can do," He grins, nudges my hand away from him to fall limply by my side.
"Harry, come on!" I whine, letting my maturity slip slightly as my patience lessens. "I'm already running late, I've gotta finish packing and I can't miss my flight."
"Why not?" He challenges, smiling still but paired with a serious tone now.
"Because, I'm not about to swim back to London."
"No, why can't you stay?" My hand wavers slightly at my side, I'm not sure if he's joking or I can hear sincerity in his voice - it reminds me too much of his solemn begging from Saturday night. "Just stay, a little longer."
He's asked me to before in the past. He isn't afraid to try and steal another day off of me to tag along to an artist friend of his' show the next night or just to get dinner at a restaurant I 'couldn't miss'. On occasion, I've given in to his pestering and rearranged a flight for a few days later. I could, I could. I'd just handed in my work for the week and it was only Friday morning, I won't be needed again until Monday. Flight's would be ridiculously expensive to change this late though, and this 'stay a little longer' felt less for the sake of good food and his favourite spin class and more of a, we need to talk - 'stay a little longer.'
"I can't," I reply simply, closing off the conversation by brushing past him into the hall towards his own room in search of my stolen sweater.
"I'll pay for your flight back." Harrys voice trails after me. "You've worked hard all week, you can afford to take the weekend off."
"I cant." I brush off again, avoiding his gaze as I scan over the room in front of me, heading to his tall chest of draws first and pulling open the one I know is filled with jumpers.
"I want to talk," Harry says softly. He lifts one arm from where he has them crossed over his chest and motions to the chair in the far corner, I investigate and sure enough, my sweater is tucked under a small pile of t-shirts. "Love, you can't ignore me."
"M' not, we're talking aren't we?" I'm just hovering in the middle of the room now, sweater in hand but Harry's tall figure blocks my way out adamantly.
"You know what I mean,"
"Harry, I can't-"
"I'm not letting you leave like this again." He takes a few steps across the room as he talks, "You said we couldn't fight cos you're only here a week, so stay a little longer."
"I don't want to fight." I shake my head, pulling my hand away when he reaches out for it.
"Then we'll just talk."
He's got that determined, soulful look about him. He reaches for my hand again and I let him, he brushes his fingertips over my knuckles lightly. His other hand comes up to my face and guides my head to look at him, still peering down at me expectantly.
Harry and I have always been open with one another. There was never enough time to tiptoe around what was bothering us when he was only home for a few weeks before work or another tour called again. Our parents always joke that we were twins separated at birth, the way we used to huddle in the garden as little kids and whisper to each other. He's my best friend, no matter how far apart we are he never hesitates to talk through his troubles with me, sure there are times we drift with our schedules, but there's too much pulling us back together for it to last long.
"I can't," It's a whisper, but he's close enough to hear it. I pull my hand from his and turn my head to the side. Inhaling, it's far too shakey to hide my nerves and before I can control it there are tears stinging my eyes.
"Love-" Harry coos, fighting my own hand to clear the tears from my cheeks.
"-I can't, Harry I," I say again, the lump in my throat making my words sound choked. He's looking down at me with that sad soft expression again and I can't piece together how we got here. "I can't."
He pulls me into his chest. His arms rest around my shoulders and he presses his face into my neck. He mumbling something but I can't make it out anymore, everything's warm and teary and slightly distorted by heavy breaths.
"We've gotta talk....we've gotta talk," He gets louder, "Love?"
I pull back to see his face. There's a red blush over his nose and cheeks and his eyelashes shine where they're wet. I push back, creating some space between us and clearing my throat.
"I didn't mean anything, we don't have to-I shouldn't have said what I did, I'm not angry, and I have no right to be so can we just, can we please just forget it?"
He shakes his head lightly, rubbing his hands against the back of his neck and standing straighter, feeling taller and intimidating.
"It's more than that, you know," He's swallowed the wobble in his voice, continuing to talk clearly now. "It's not about that, we've needed to talk for awhile - I don't want to leave it for weeks and weeks again, I can't keep pretending like nothing's going on."
"I've got a flight to catch Harry I really can't do this." I insist, walking around him and through the clear doorway, although his footsteps chase closely behind.
"Miss the flight!" Harry shouts as we make it to the living room and I start packing away the last few things on the coffee table. "I'll get you a ticket for Sunday night, just stay."
My throat burns when I push down another round of tears and furiously shove books down the side of my bag. Harry hovers to my side, fiddling with his rings and bouncing his knee back and forth.
"I love you."
I have a flight to catch. I have a flight to catch.
"Don't say it like that- I love you, of course, I love you too" I sigh, slowing down and turning to face him. "...my car's going to be here in fifteen minutes."
"No, I love you."
I have a flight to catch. I have a flight to catch.
"I have a flight to catch."
... . .
I feel shittier on the plane. I've got the window seat this time though so at least I can mope in peace. Not much more had been said after that, my car came, I thanked Harry for having me and our hug lasted longer than usual, again.
Maybe I should have stayed. Maybe I should have talked about the feelings that he'd noticed too before I left, or better yet, the first night I arrived. I'd spent hours stuck in an unproductive thought spiral on the subject over the years, we've had moments in the past, Christmas eves when we're the last ones up and the space between us dwindles down the further we get in our confessions or catching each other in a particularly domestic act in one our homes when it feels like it all just comes naturally and why isn't it like this with any of the guys I've dated?
It doesn't go unnoticed by us that we acted like a couple more often than we did close friends. Gemma and Ellie have confronted me, and most likely Harry too, together and separately for answers on several occasions. I always say the same thing - "We're just friends, we've always been close."
This time's different though. Harry's never brought the subject up outside of the jokes comparing us to his friends in relationships, he's always been in relationships and there's no chance of me broaching the issue of any potential romantic feelings I may or may not have for him while he's seeing somebody, even when he wasn't, it's not worth the risk of it all blowing up in my face and having to spend infinite Christmases in awkward humiliation.
I'd played with the idea of us as a couple, allowed myself to daydream about what it could be like for a few moments before reminding myself how low the possibility of Harry ever feeling the same is. Even if he did, the long-distance friendship we have now would never survive as a relationship - you can't go months without the person you're trying to build a life with.
But, maybe I should have stayed.
Maybe, when he told me he loved me, I should have been braver. In the one moment, it all finally felt clear and possible, and like I wasn't completely delusional and hopeless, I should have told him I love him too.
Either way, I have eight long, back aching hours ahead of me to decide.
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pinencurls · 4 years
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Kiss In The Kitchen
hiii okay so I have a couple one shots hidden away in drafts that I’m not 100% in love with but i enjoyed writing at the time so I thought I might as well share them :)  Here’s the first...
You couldn’t be prouder of Fine Line and all you want to do is support and congratulate him, even if it means ignoring the insecurities one song strikes in you. 
4k Words 
At first, you listened to it (almost) alone, Harry's large headphones covering your ears as his new album played for you - you'd heard bits and pieces of it over the last year but never every song in it's finalised form. The second time you listened to the album you quickly adored was at its release party; a contrast setting to the quiet of the Saturday sun sneaking into your bedroom with Harry's earnest gaze set on you as you spoil yourself in his words - you could almost forget the album was written entirely about the woman Harry devoted all his love to before you'd met, it felt so private between the two of you. You'd visited the studio several times, lending your own advice when Harry met droughts of no inspiration and begged for your musical experience; You'd been in several small bands in your formative years, playing bass or drums, but had paused that particular pastime to focus on the reality of your career - writing took time in this industry, supporting yourself whilst avoiding the well of tabloid work was tricky, so far you'd managed to find little nuggets of gold in genuine, thought-provoking magazines and had begun to make a name for yourself, something you'd doubted possible in the harder of times.
You'd chosen to keep your lyrical advice to yourself when Harry called to you for help, however. You knew who this album was about, it was clear it wasn't you and that was fine. You didn't expect Harry to dedicate a whole album about you after 11 months together, all of which dating after he began writing it.
In private, sat on your bed and grinning up at him as his music played to you and you only - you were proud. You'd accepted the difficulties that might come with listening to your partner's rawest emotions for a past lover and had come to the conclusion that you'd appreciate his work simply because of how much he'd put into it and how well it'd all come together.
That was easy in private. It's slightly harder to remind yourself to separate the songs playing loudly all around you in the busy L.A club from all the not so hidden meanings behind them. Everyone Harry had met within the last few years of his solo career and long before that had come to celebrate with him. Busting bodies filled the large room, many already taking advantage of the bar. Almost everyone found themselves, slightly slurring, by Harry's side at one point of the night to tell him how beautiful Fine Line was, and the topics of each song didn't seem to go unnoticed either.
As you made your own rounds, you overheard the loud discussions about the mix of provocative, solemn and affectionate themes. Some of the group were apparently too drunk to see Harry's current girlfriend standing by as they cheered on his yearning and passion for his previous one.
It only got worse with press. You were still unbelievably proud of course, but Harry had to do a lot of press. Each interviewer cut straight to the elephant in the album. Camille was discussed, if not named by Harry, at length. You adored hearing Harry speak about his own personal growth and becoming comfortable in himself - but for every question about identity and fashion, came three about the clear sexual undertones and soulmate ideologies.
You were rational in your discomfort. You listened to Adore You and your other stand out favourites when you wrote, you understood and trusted that Harry had moved on, you'd been together for almost a year and he's told you weeks before then when you were just new friends that he knew he was ready again after months of working on himself.
You just couldn't deal with one song.
Breaking up and having sex you could deal with, you could enjoy the final work. They were normal things that people went through and wrote about. But the first sign of love? The sweet, endearing start of a relationship that he was so clearly ardent about - as if his feeling were a lot fresher than you'd imagine for a relationship that started and ended months ago.
Sunflower Vol.6 was beautiful, but as hard as you tried, you couldn't just see it objectively. You felt it so concentrated, and it hurt like fucking hell.
- - -
"Do we have any mango?" Harry calls from the kitchen, the click of the fridge opening quietly behind him. "Never mind found it!"
You smile at his domestic charm as you work on you most recent piece; it's been taking up a lot of time, creeping into your weekend which hadn't gone unnoticed by Harry as he had returned from the morning run you usually went on as a couple. A few moments later, after the loud whirring of the blender stopped, a pinky-orange smoothie is placed beside you and kiss pressed to the side of your head.
"When're you gon'a be done?" He murmurs against your ear, curls flopping down onto your own.
He's just finished his last week of press, ending with Howard Stern who seemed eager to remind Harry, constantly, of all the women he could have. You weren't particularly public yet so you couldn't really blame him for assuming Harry would be starting a new relationship soon. It just added to the frustration you'd been careful not to disclose over the long period of promo for the album.
"I wanna finish this today so we're both free after we fly back, I'jus need a little time alone, yeah?" A low grumble and a "yeah" was the only response he gave and he removes himself to the other side of the big living room to lay down on the sofa and slurp his breakfast.
Your deadline is Monday but tomorrow morning you're flying back to London and driving up to Holmes Chapel to spend time with Harry's family before he was away on tour for months so you were eager to be free from work.
Hours tick by, you're stuck in the spiral of the final edit. There were a few words that you couldn't quite tweak how you wanted them, as always. You got up to make lunch.
As you pass through the living room you expect to see Harry's body sprawled across the sofa napping, but only a bundle of throw blankets lay where he had been. His journal sits abandoned on the side table, propped open by a loose pen. You can see the scribbling of new song ideas and the beginnings of a poem, smiling to yourself you walk through to the kitchen - still no Harry.
Humming to yourself you open the fridge door, moving your hips slightly as you retrieve all the ingredients of a sandwich for you and Harry. Domestic moments like these were hard to come by in the midst of album releases and pre-tour prep, but you're looking forwards to the month ahead of you. No doubt you'll need some alone time after a week at his mother's house so you're being careful not to take any assignments for the rest of the month to make room for as many simple moments like this as possible once you're back in your London home.
Over the rustle of the bread packet and the crunch the lettuce made as you slice it, you can hear Harry's voice approaching from down the hall.
"Well thanks, mate-yeah..yeah we've gotta get drinks sometime it's been too long." He has the smile on his face that tells you it was another old friend calling to congratulate him on his album, probably a fellow musician from the early days.
Harry makes his way to your side, watching as you layer food into your sandwiches and steals a shred of lettuce. You can hear the other voice now - a clear English drawl you recognise as Ed. You've met a couple times and he's one of the most genuine men you've met, you much prefer him over some of the industry people Harry has to mingle with.
"Oh, dude and the mushrooms!" You giggle as you hear Ed laugh down the line at Harry. "I can't say I didn't guess something was up."
"Thanks, man - like what?" Harry chuckles back, sneaking more sandwich scraps as you slice a knife through them and dish them up.
"Um, the whole end of sunflower - are you really gonna do that live?" At the mention of the song, you feel your shoulders tense slightly. You're really trying to be a good girlfriend and support Harry - but that song just hits different, you trust Harry's love but you can't help but wonder if he has any feelings left over for Camille...
"If I have to!" Harry continues to joke, not noticing your discomfort or at least not mentioning it."Look, Ed, I gotta go but it was great talking to you"...
Harry's voice drones into the background as you take your plate and make your way back to your laptop, huffing as you're reminded of your own frustrations with yourself; he told you months ago that he's moved on, why can't you just believe him?
You can hear a quiet goodbye from Harry as he sets his phone down on the sofa and sits across from you at the table. Your laptop is still acting as a barrier between the two of you. You type at the keys, trying to look busy as you write and rewrite the same line over and over, sighing - you save and close the file and set your laptop aside.
"Not going how you want?" Harry asks.
"No, it is just...there's a bit I can't get to work. I just want to get this over with already." Harry thinks about what you've said for a moment before getting up and leaving the room - he comes back a moment later, setting a glass of water bedside your lunch and kissing your temple.
"Take a break love, you've been working all week you deserve it." He hums against your hair. "And thank you for lunch."
He's so sweet and chipper, smiling at you as he takes his plate out to the kitchen and returns to perch across the table from you, hand wavering over his journal as you finish your lunch.
He worries about you a lot. Normally over you working too much and not taking time for yourself or the amount of pressure, you put on yourself being overwhelming. It was in his nature to worry you remind yourself, you're trying hard to push past the hurt you can't quite let go of and the last thing you'd ever want was for him to feel bad about what he'd written so you'd managed to keep it under wraps. There was no need for him to be suspicious.
- - -
Your alarm goes off at 5am. Your flight is in 3 hours.
"Turn it off." You grumble, burying your head deeper into your pillow. The mattress dips underneath you when Harry turns, the duvet shifts as he slips his hand under and wraps his arms around you. "S'too early."
"I know." You love how Harry's voice sounds in the morning - rough with a soft edge. It's one of the first things you fell in love with; the extra degree or two the morning adds to his embrace, he's always quick to loop his arms around your middle if they've come undone in the night. His untamed and often tangled curls bristle against the back of your neck and there'll be a few moments of warm even breaths against your ear before he bounces up. He's very much a morning person.
"I'm getting in the shower y/n, I'll be out in a sec - get up yeah?" You mumble a slightly coherent response as he leaves the room, a towel draped over his bare shoulder.
Following a few moments of deliberation, you sit up. Unplugging your phone from where it lay on your bedside table, you check your notifications. Sure you'll be up in time, you open twitter.
Unsurprisingly, nothing much is happening. You scroll through a few messages from the day before until you come across a video of Harry being interviewed, he's wearing the thick red cardigan he recently bought so it must've been from this week.
You click play to see him smiling tiredly at the interviewer - you remember this day, you'd stayed up later than planned watching old toy story reruns then he'd been running around frantically getting ready the next morning. You lazily watch him answer a few frequently repeated questions until he's asked about the stages of romantic relationships that inspired certain songs. You expect the usual questions about songs like Adore You and Watermelon Sugar but instead, the interviewer takes a turn and seemingly voices all the concerns floating around your head;
"And one of my personal favourites: Sunflower vol.6, really captures the first realisation of love in a relationship, what lead you to write that song in particular, did you write from experience?"
"Thank you, yeah..I think that first really overpowering part of a relationship when two people are just starting to have these intimate, lovestruck moments together stuck with me and I-" You turn your phone off sharply. Your mind is spiralling with insecurities enough on its own without Harry himself describing how he first felt about his ex-girlfriend.
You sit against the headboard, mulling over the topic that has clouded your mind the past few days. You don't hear the shower turn off down the hall as you let out an angry grumble - it feels so shit and mean of you to be this way and you just want the clarity you had before this all happened.
"What's wrong love?" You look up to see Harry standing at the end of the bed. His hair is dripping onto his shoulders and he's wrapped a light pink towel around his waist loosely, concern contoured his face as he peers down at your huddled form.
"Jus' tired." You crawl forwards to climb out of bed, kissing Harry's cheek lightly as he stood unconvinced before heading to your wardrobe. "Honestly, I'm good."
"Okay..what's the time?"
"Uhhum-" You mutter as you riffle through a pile of sweaters. "5.30ish I think..check my phone"
You slip on a comfy pair of jeans and socks before you walk into the hall on your way to make you both coffee, there's a long pause from the bedroom before Harry calls down to you - 5.42am.
- - -
By the time the plane takes off, you're almost asleep again.
- - -
It's 7pm LA time when you step out the taxi delivering you home to your London house. It's almost 2 am here so despite your lack of tiredness you shuffle through the door behind Harry.
All your heavy luggage is left in the entryway as you climb the stairs up to your bedroom, eager to be done with jet lag and normal again by the morning.
You've made the mistake of sleeping the first 3 hours of the flight and now find yourself wide awake under the soft covers of you and Harry's bed. He always falls asleep as soon as he hits the pillow, and with how quiet he's been all day you assume he's already tired. Between your early napping and him being engrossed in the book he was currently reading - there hadn't been much conversation between you on the flight over. As you snuggle further into the covers you realise things have been a little different these past few days, maybe being so caught up in your own head with work and worries of your own you haven't noticed but there's definitely been a...distance. You're just not sure which of it is creating it.
The next morning you wake to the radio playing from a few rooms away. Sitting up you look around the room; your suitcases are still downstairs by the look of it and Harry's side of the bed has been slept in and now deserted.
"Harry?" You call out. There's some kind of foggy sadness seeping around you as you hear no reply. Maybe you're just tired but you feel you might start sobbing any minute - it's a desperate feeling that you're not quite sure how to quench.
"Harry.." You call again as you climb out the bed, slipping a large jumper on over your head, pulling the braids you'd plaited for the flight that had come undone and frizzy with sleep, over your shoulders. "Love?"
There's still no response and you're now on the final step of the long staircase. You walk quickly through the house towards a quiet humming you can just about make out. You must have gathered speed in your anxious mission to find Harry because as you enter the kitchen you slam hard into the doorway as you reach out to balance yourself.
The movement in his peripheral makes Harry turn his head, slipping the bulky headphones off his ears and slipping his phone into his pocket. He'd previously been slumped against the kitchen counter, lost in thought as he skimmed through his phone, forgetting the kettle as it boiled beside him.
"Love- oh, careful." He chuckles slightly before he takes in your expression. You must have started crying by now because he rushes quickly towards you. "Woah- woah what's wrong? Did you hurt yourself?"
The arm that had taken the full brunt of the doorway was now being carefully examined by Harry as his eyes scan you, searching for any harm. His hand comes to wipe at the few glossy tears on your cheek before he gently asks his question again.
"No I-I was calling for you..." You reply, equally confused as him by the whole situation.
"I didn't hear you love I'm sorry, what happened?" He's placed your arm back by your side now although his hands lingers around yours.
"...Nothing."
"Y/n, please just tell me. What's wrong?" He persists.
"No, I mean - nothing happened I just..." You mumble, how were you supposed to explain that when you woke up you felt terrifyingly alone and just needed to find him...to remind yourself that everything you'd let conspire in your head wasn't really happening.
"Y/n, I know something's up..the last week has been really busy I know but if something's wrong please just tell me, okay?" You think about it for a second before blurting out-
"Would you tell me if you still loved her?"
This doesn't seem to be at he was expecting, or you for that matter. The situation was uncomfortable - hearing your boyfriend sing about how intensely he loved Camille and how badly losing her broke him, but it was just music. You don't realise until you ask him the awkward question, just how much it had been bothering, or scaring you.
"What?"
"I just mean...Okay shit I don't mean that at all I'm just tired and I woke up and you weren't there and I just needed to find you I-"
"Is this what's been upsetting you?" His words aren't spoken forcefully, more...sadly. "T-this is what the phone call and the yesterday morning and...oh God the whole fucking flight! That's what you were thinking?"
"What phone call, what do you mean?" You don't know if he's angry at you or not, his hands are in his hair and he's got the mad look in his eyes that tells you he's either about to shout or cry.
"With Ed. As soon as he mentioned the album you left the room and, and! Yesterday, you were angry about something and then I checked the time and your phone opened on some video about the album and come on...you can't say everything was okay on the flight...we barely talked...we've barely talked at all this week." You're decided that the crying is a lot worse than the shouting. There's something cathartic that comes from shouting back at someone who's just as angry as you - but crying back at someone who's just as confused and upset? It makes you feel all twisted and uncomfortable.
"No..no Harry that's not it-"
"Y/n don't lie I-"
"It's not. I love your album and I'm so, so proud of you, and of everything you did to make it and I understand the importance of your relationship with Camille," Harry's huffing now, his fingers are tangled further in his hair and he's leaned up against the door frame close opposite you. "-This album is all about that time in your life and that's fine...Harry I love it, honestly, the album isn't anything to do with anything-"
"You just asked me if I still loved her!" He exclaims, staring wide-eyed back at you. "I don't give a shit about the album right now, you can hate it, okay? That's okay? But you asked me if I still love her...Y/n look at me."
Your eyes, tightly fixed on the kitchen tiles, tilt up to see his face. His eyes are red and splotchy and his hands reach out to hold you as he speaks again.
"I don't love her, I haven't in a long, long time. I had the ideas for all the songs about her before I even met you, you okay..you're the person I love and...I thought you knew that?" He sighs, hesitant before he starts again. "I thought you trusted me."
There's another pause between you as you mull your next thoughts over.
"I do."
He shakes his head, teary and angry.
"No you don't, if you did you wouldn't have asked-"
"It's just that fucking song!" You snap, you take a sharp breath in and swallow the lump in your throat - "I know that you don't love her, I know it but, when I listen to you sing - and talk, telling people about this wonderful honeymoon romance that even after years you remember so vividly and, and that means so much to you,I..."
"Track 9?" Harry questions, seemingly understanding everything you've just rambled. "Sun- oh baby no it's not..."
"I'm sorry I...It's a great song I just, whenever I hear it I'm reminded of how much you must have felt for her and, and remembered all this time to write about...what?" Harry's smiling now, he seems to be relived for some reason. His eyes are brighter, clearing slightly and he chuckles slightly.
"It's all my fault, I'm so sorry lovie I should have told you.." He scrambles. "I, I was embarrassed when I wrote it because we'd only just started dating and then you heard it a couple weeks later and it was too soon to tell you and then I just...didn't. I thought maybe you'd figured it out."
"What do you mean?"
"It's about...us."
"You told me you didn't write any about me though..."
"No, I said I hadn't written any you were going to see anytime soon...and that was, awhile ago." He smiles slightly, squeezing your hand in his. "There's another one about you actually too,"
"Harry you, you wrote it about us.." Harry hums a confirmation, bowing his head to press a kiss to your cheek. "I thought...what else did you write!"
Harry laughs now, catching your lips with his as you both feel each other relax - the tension and discomfort seeping away as you realise the reality of everything you'd worried yourself over in the last week.
You pull away, one hand on his chest and the other fiddling with the curls at the back of his head.
"Seriously what else did you write-"
"I'm not telling." He beams, leaning down against the firm push you send to his chest.
"I swear if you wrote a song about our sex life I-"
"Shhhh!" He presses a mocking finger to your lips to quiet you. "We better be going, don't wanna be late."
With that, he leaves the kitchen, you can hear his heavy steps rushing up the stairs and soon the house is quiet and the air around you is settled again.
There's a subtle hum of the shower upstairs that intrudes but nonetheless, the clarity's back.
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