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babyiamperfectforyou · 1 year

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Not The Same As It Was

Summary : Harry feels like his life with his family has not been the same as it was. Would he leave his wife and child for the woman who has him craving for more?

Warnings : Angst

Word count: 5.9k

A/n: We're back with another oneshot 🥳This is our late entry to @harry-on-broadway 's fic challenge. Enjoy ❤️

Xoxo,

G and M

Masterlist

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"So, where are we going?" Harry asked as he climbed onto the passenger seat of the car.

"Calm down, Styles, we ain't gonna kill you", one of the people inside the car laughed, "It's high time you had some actual fun, family life has changed you", another said.

"Hey… that's not true ", he complained as they started driving but that comment had planted a seed of doubt inside his brain.

"Well then, tell me, it's been a month since you came back from tour; how many times have you hung out with us, huh?", Neil, his friend asked. Harry stayed silent. After coming back home, he had spent all his time with his family. And now, he was back in the studio to work on the new album. He had been holed up there all day.

"Yup, that's exactly what I'm talking about, so shut up and have some fun with us tonight, everyone's gonna be there. Just let the old Harry out for this once. You can go back to your boring self tomorrow."

—----------------------------------------------

"Why are you late?Where were you, Harry?"

His head snapped up as he looked at Y/N, his wife. He was sitting on the couch, drinking a glass of water.

"Out", he murmured, placing the glass on the table. "You could've called or texted me, or at least picked up when I called you", she was annoyed.

"Well, I forgot. What's the big deal?" He stood up, placing the glass onto the coffee table with a loud thud and tried to walk towards the bedroom.

"You forgot? We were worried, you know? Beryl went to sleep asking for you. Where were you, Harry? You reek of alcohol." She was getting angrier by the minute.

"What are you on about, Y/N? Can't I just have one night away from all the responsibilities? Can I just enjoy myself for once? Ugh. They were right, family life sure does drag you down", he chuckled meanly.

“What?” she mumbled in disbelief. She loved their little family; her, Harry and their little girl, Beryl. She was so happy to have the most adorable baby on the planet and the best husband. She loved her family with her whole heart and believed he did too, until those poisonous words slipped from his mouth just now. They had talked, even before they had kids, about how important it was for the mental and overall well being of children to have their parents with them. Harry had treated his family as his first priority, until now. Did he really think that? That his family was dragging him down? She could feel bile rising in her throat.

“What? You know I’m right”, he shrugged.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean Harry, you’re clearly drunk. And don’t bring Beryl into this, you knew what you were signing up for when we knew we were pregnant. And you seemed so happy then.” tears pooled in her eyes.

He sighed,

“You know how happy I am to have a family, I just meant that I deserve a break from all this burden, you know.”

“Yup, got your message loud and clear, Styles.”, she said, walking towards their bedroom.

“Shit, Y/N I didn't mean it like that. I just…”

“Save it, Harry. I'll make sure that you won't have to carry our burden.” she said and walked into their bedroom.

He seemed to realize the weight of his words fast enough as the alcohol slowly left his system. He entered the bedroom and saw her coming out of the shower in her pajamas, her eyes were red and puffy. She did not even bother to look at him as he sat on the edge of the bed, fingers fumbling nervously.

“Y/N, baby… just listen to me, I-”

She did not even spare a glance at him and left the room. His eyes started welling up with tears as he heard the sound of Beryl’s room slam shut. He sat against the headboard, as he realized what he had done. Why did he say those words to her, he loved his family dearly, right? Right?

—---------------------------------------------

Y/n could not sleep that night. Were they a burden to him? Was he just tolerating their presence? A mere repayment for having loved her once? She held her daughter tight as she let her tears flow down her face and wet the pillow. Somewhere in the middle of doubting herself and trying to remember if she ever had tied him down, she fell asleep.

—----------------------------------------------

Harry couldn't sleep as well. He was not used to sleeping without her. He knew he had said some hurtful things, but didn't know how to make it better. He woke up early and went for a run to clear his head. He'll just buy her something to make up for it. She was his wife, she wouldn't leave him, would she?

—------------------------------------------------

He had come after the time Y/N and Beryl had left for work and school. He was supposed to take Beryl to school but he purposely avoided coming home early. He knew it would be difficult for him to face Y/N after last night's incidents and he figured that she would take their kid to school. And he was right. Both of them had left.

He placed the necklace he bought for her on the table and wrapped it up, placing a little bow on top. A perfect apology gift. She would surely forgive him after seeing that he had bought her an expensive necklace, right? Well, that's what he thought.

He took the gift to their bedroom and set it down on her dressing table for her to find after she comes home from work and went down to the kitchen, only to see that she had made him breakfast before she left. Guilt tugged at his heart. It would have been so hard for her today, having to get Beryl ready for school, cooking for everyone and then getting to her own workplace, all on her own. He should have been there, helping her with the chores. Y/N was a fashion designer. She had a boutique that sold wedding dresses. Since she had to stay late at work than usual, she had told Harry when he came home from tour that they should hire a nanny for Beryl to stay till she comes home. But Harry was quick to discard that suggestion and said that he'd be there and there was no need to hire anyone.

Harry would apologize to her tonight, he'll pick up Beryl from school, take her to get ice cream. Then he'll come home and make Beryl dinner and get her to sleep by the time Y/N comes home. She had to stay late at work, as her sales were going crazy. Then, when Y/N comes home, he'll set up a nice bubble bath and let her relax. He'll set up a nice romantic dinner and apologize to her. He'll give her the gift he bought her and tell her how much he loves her. If she lets him, he'll show her how much she means to him.

Harry had it all planned. He quickly took a shower, had breakfast and drove over to the studio.

—----------------------------------

Harry had a productive day at work. He was able to get a lot of work done. He could feel the rush of ideas running through his mind.

During the lunch break, he had sent Y/N a text saying that he'll pick up Beryl from school in the evening. She responded in half an hour.

Y/N/N❤️: It's okay, Harry, I'll pick her up. I leave work early today.

—-------------------------------------

"Mate, are you coming or not? ", Jeremy asked impatiently.

"No, man, I've gotta get home early today, you guys go on without me", with that, he was off.

Harry had planned on getting home before Y/N but he didn't know when she would be home. Yes, she had informed him that she'd leave early, but he didn't know the exact time.

He saw her car as he drove into the driveway and realized that his plans had failed. The fresh aroma of food hit his nose as he opened the door and walked in. Y/N was cooking. Beryl was sat on the barstool near the kitchen counter, doing her homework and asking Y/N for help whenever she was met with difficult questions.

Taking off his shoes, Harry carefully walked over to them, a little nervous.

"Daddy, I missed you", Beryl pouted, seeing him. Y/N turned around at the mention of him and their eyes met for a millisecond before she turned away, an expression on her face he couldn't decipher. A wave of disquiet went through him, it was like being doused with ice cold water.

"I missed you too baby", he said, leaning down and placing kisses on her forehead, making her giggle.

"Where were you last night, daddy? I wanted to show you the picture I drew." She frowned.

"Daddy was late, kiddo." He said softly, looking over at Y/N who made no effort to turn around.

"You know what? You could show me the picture now." He said, making her smile.

"Okay daddy, can you put me down?" She asked, holding her arms out. Harry moved closer, picked her up and put her down. She ran off to her room in excitement. Harry walked over to where his wife was chopping tomatoes. He sat on the counter and gently called her name.

“Hey. Look at me.”, he said softly.

She hesitantly looked up.

"I am so sorry, love. I shouldn't have said that. I was drunk and not in my right mind. Will you forgive me?"

"I know, Harry. It's okay, I forgive you", she said in a small voice.

Well, that was easy, he thought. He didn't know why she didn't even put up a fight and stand up for herself because he was clearly in the wrong here.

"Really? I know I was a dick, baby, it won't happen again."

"It's fine, Harry. Don't worry about it" , she gave him a small smile. He knew she was still hurt by the way her smile did not reach her eyes. But he decided not to ask about that. She would be happy after getting that gift. He was about to tell her about it when they were interrupted by the pitter patter of two small feet. Beryl was running over to him with a picture in her hand.

—------------------------------------

After dinner, when Y/N took Beryl to her room to put her to bed, Harry took a quick shower. He did not see her in their room when he got out of the shower.

Was she going to sleep in Beryl's room?

Harry walked over to her room, only to see Beryl sleeping, clutching her reindeer plushie that Harry bought her when he came back from tour last month. It had become her favourite one. Harry smiled to himself and closed the door, walking downstairs, looking for his wife.

There she was, wiping down the kitchen counter and cleaning up. He gently slipped behind her, hugging her from behind and placing a kiss onto her cheek. He sensed her body suddenly stiffening but decided not to comment on it.

Swallowing down his hurt, he gently whispered in her ear,

"Come to bed, baby"

"I'll be there in a few minutes, Harry. You can go to bed if you want to, I'll finish this up and be there", she sounded nervous, he noticed.

"No, I don't want to sleep without you, besides, I have something to give you. I'll wait. "

He helped her clean and led her to their bedroom, handing her the neatly wrapped gift.

"What is it, Harry?" ,she asked .

She had never used a pet name after that encounter. He hated it when she used to call him by his name. She was still hurt, he realised.

"Um, it is a… peace offering. I'm so sorry for what I said, I didn't mean it. So I bought you a necklace as an apology. " He said, suddenly getting nervous.

Sighing, she said,

"You didn't have to, Harry."

"I know, but I wanted to."

"Thank you." She said, without even opening it.

"Can I kiss you? ", he asked apprehensively.

She nodded.

He leaned in, pressing his lips onto hers. It was soft and tender. He held onto her waist and pulled her closer. Both of them did not want to pull away. It was when his hands started wandering over her hips and waist that she pulled back. He looked at her with a small frown.

"I… uh… not today, Harry", she stuttered.

"Um… yeah, sure", he said.

When they went to sleep that night, he hugged her closer to him.

—--------------------------------------

It's been a week since that incident. They were getting back to normal but Harry couldn't help but notice a few changes in his wife's behaviour. She would do all the household chores without asking him for any help, she would cook, and clean, leaving Harry with nothing to do. On one hand, it was good because he could devote his time to the task at hand: the new album. But on the other hand, he found it weird that his usually feisty wife had turned into a housewife. She didn't complain about anything, balancing her housework and kid along with her equally demanding job. She took Beryl to school in the morning and picked her up in the evening.

Their schedules had changed as well. Y/N would wake up early, cook them breakfast and get herself and Beryl ready for work. Harry wouldn't even be awake till they're gone. After waking up, Harry would freshen up and go to the studio. In the evening, Y/N and Beryl would be back, she'd cook them dinner, feed Beryl and get her to bed. Harry would be home late. There were days where they wouldn't even see each other. Y/N had changed her schedule in such a way that she was able to leave in time to get Beryl from school. Harry and Y/N did not really get any alone time. They hadn't even really talked to each other in a week.

The next week seemed so hectic though. Y/N had been busier than ever with her sales going up. She couldn't leave early from work. So, Harry had to take Beryl to school and pick her up.

It was a Friday when they completed and recorded the first song for the new album.

"We'll go celebrate,'' he heard his friends say. He felt like it was only fair for him to go with them as he had been bailing on them for a little while.

Will you pick up Beryl from her dance class today? I don't think I can make it, Harry hastily typed up and sent the message to his wife and without even waiting for a reply, walked towards the car that was waiting for him outside the studio.

—---------------------------------------

They had gone to this new bar near the studio.

It felt liberating for him to be away from work or family for a little while. The drinks had loosened him up. He found the whole having - fun thing refreshing.

It's been a while since he has had some fun, not caring about anything, just living in the present. The alcohol seemed to make him forget about everything. He let himself free, dancing with random strangers and drinking as much as he wanted.

"Hey, Harry, I want you to meet someone," Neil called out over the loud music as Harry was downing another shot of tequila.

With him stood a brunette, tall and gorgeous. She had beautiful hazel eyes which reminded him of Belgian chocolate. She had curves in all the right places. She was wearing a silver bodycon dress which hugged her figure and left little to the imagination.

"Hi, I am Kara", she held her hand out.

"Kara?" He asked, his accent becoming thicker due to him being drunk.

"No, Kara, K-A-R-A" she said.

"That's what I said. I'm English, I have an accent, lord…", he laughed, making her giggle.

He shook her outstretched hand,

"I'm Harry."

"I know", she giggled again.

"So, Harry, this is Kara, my friend from uni, she's a choreographer. She is here for some work related thing, she'll be here for a few months."

"It's nice to meet you ", he said.

"Likewise," she replied with a smile.

They spent the rest of the night talking. Harry found that she had a really nice personality. They talked about many things and he noticed that she had strong opinions about everything, a bold woman, she was.

When it was time for her to leave, she said her goodbyes to everyone in their friend group. Finally, she walked over to Harry,

"It's been great finally meeting you. I've heard so much about you and now I know what they say is true, you're really a gentleman. I'm going to go now, see you around." She leaned in for a hug. He returned the hug, blushing at her praise. She smelled good, like wild berries.

"Bye, see you around", he smiled at her.

He felt that he had taken the right decision to go out, it proved to be a good relaxation technique. He needed to do this often.

It was past midnight when he came home. Beryl was asleep, so was Y/N. He went straight into the kitchen to drink some water and saw a note on the fridge. Dinner is in the fridge, it said, with a hand-drawn red heart on it - Beryl drew it, he realised. He smiled to himself and sauntered over to his room. Y/N was fast asleep. He stripped down to his boxers and climbed under the covers.

For once, Harry Styles felt like he was leading a routine life. A boring one.

—----------------------------------------------

Days passed. Harry had started going out with his friends every now and then. He wasn't even home on weekends. They went to pubs and parties every week. Kara and Harry had become closer than ever. She always tagged along with Neil and gradually, she became an unavoidable member of their friend group. She used to visit his studio whenever she was free.

"Do you want to grab a bite? There's this new bakery I wanted to try", Kara asked one day, when she came to the studio. No one else was there. Harry had to finish up a lyric, and was working on it when Kara called and informed him that she was coming over.

"Yeah, sure, I'd like that"

*****

"Wow, these are delicious", Harry said, as he took another bite from a macaron.

"Well, If you want any advice on anything, you know who to call", Kara laughed, lightly patting his arm.

Both of them had become really touchy with each other. Harry wondered if she was into him. He had felt a spark between them, an invisible pull guiding him towards her. She gave him new ideas and put in her suggestions whenever he was working on something when she went over to the studio. When was the last time Y/N did that? She was always busy with work. When was the last time they had sex? Hell, when was the last time they really talked to each other?

Kara brought out something in him, something fresh, vibrant and lively. He felt like he had become his younger self again. The mood was always playful and silly when she was around.

"Of course", he laughed.

"Can I ask you something, Kara?" , he suddenly asked.

"Why the formalities, H? You know you can ask me anything -"

His phone rang, cutting her off. Huffing, he looked at the screen to check who it was. Y/N. Way to ruin a moment.

"Hello? I'm busy, I'll call you back, okay?", He turned the phone off and turned towards Kara,

"Who was it?"

"Nobody, you were saying?"

"Actually you were about to ask me something. What was it?"

"Yeah, right. So um… I just wanted to erm… know if you were interested in choreographing a dance sequence for my new music video."

"Oh my God… really? I would love that, H", she squealed excitedly.

"So that's settled then, can we go over to the studio and discuss the details with the rest of the team?"

"Sure, let's go"

* * *

What Harry did not know was that his wife was actually outside the cafeteria he was in. She had gone to run a few errands when she saw him there. She called him to let him know that she was there. She was heartbroken after seeing him walk out with a woman, happy and laughing. Might be a friend, don't jump into conclusions, Y/N, she reminded herself.

The next day, deuxmoi had posted that they had sighted Harry outside the studio with a woman. Harry was worried that Y/N would be mad at him, but she didn't say anything. So, Harry was pretty sure that she didn't see it and was so relieved, to say the least.

But she did. She saw every single one of those articles that revealed to her Harry's location when he himself didn't. She heard about Kara doing the choreography from the tabloids, not him. She had seen the way he looked at her and she blamed herself for it.

—-------------------------------------

"And cut…" the director shouted and the room erupted into loud noises.

"It was great, Harry. Kara, you did an amazing job, this is going to break the internet, I can feel it in my kneecaps", he laughed.

The music video for Harry's new single, Medicine, was choreographed by none other than Kara herself. More importantly, she was the one who performed it with him.

The video showed Harry sitting at a bar, just like how they met for the first time, Kara walking towards him and talking to him. Then suddenly, everyone in the bar disappears, leaving a spotlight on Kara and Harry. They stand up and walk towards the middle of the room, performing a seductive, sensual dance sequence. The video ends when they lean in for a kiss and the screen fades to black.

They had excellent chemistry on screen, everyone said.

It wasn't just on screen, Harry wasn't faking it. He enjoyed touching her, the way she would turn putty in his arms. He wanted to know if she felt it too. Harry swore he heard a small whimper when he leaned towards her in the last scene. It caught him off guard. When the director yelled 'cut' , they pulled away from each other. They might not have kissed, but the closeness made him feel something.

People were leaving after the shooting. After thanking everyone, Harry turned towards the door, only to see his wife standing there, talking to a crew member. He didn't expect she'd come to the shooting. Yes, he had told her over dinner that they would be shooting the video the next day but he never thought she would come. To be honest, he felt like they were drifting apart, they didn't have what they had once, they were falling out of love.

His eyes widened when he saw her there. How long has she been there? Did she saw the way he was touching Kara? Did she understand how he felt? He could feel his palms sweating.

Putting on his fakest smile, he walked over to her and slipped a hand around her waist,

"Hey Y/N/N, when did you get here?"

"I got here while you were filming, your mom took Beryl for the night. You did fantastic, H. I'm so proud of you", she smiled.

"Thanks baby. Shall we head out? "

"Um… yeah, sure"

"You go wait in the car, I'll be there, gotta get my phone and wallet from the other room", he said.

—-----------------------------------

It was the day before the premier. Harry had arranged a celebratory dinner for the crew. Y/N was also there.

After the dinner, they were about to leave. Y/N had gone to the washroom and was coming out into the hallway when she heard Kara call out to her husband.

"H, wait up…"

Harry turned around to see Kara running towards him.

"Were you leaving?"

"I… yeah, I was. My wife had gone to the washroom, I was waiting for her", he said. She should know that he was married; she should know what she was getting into, if she was interested in him. But of course, she would know, he was The Harry Styles.

"Um, yeah… I just wanted to let you know something. "

"Yeah? What is it?" , he asked frowning slightly.

"It's just that I'm going back to L.A the day after tomorrow."

"Oh" , he wasn't expecting that. His face fell.

"I'm going to come right out and say it Harry, I really like you and I feel like you like me too. Uh…would you come to my apartment, if I invite you? We could spend one night together before I go back."

Harry couldn't believe it, she liked him!

Without wasting another moment, he stuttered out,

"I … yeah, I'll come. We'll go after the premier".

Y/N couldn't believe what she heard. Her husband was in love with someone else. He was going to cheat on her. Her heart dropped to her stomach. She just wanted the earth to split in two and swallow her whole into the abyss. She walked downstairs, shoulders slumped in defeat. She walked away and waited by the car, expecting his arrival. She heard his footsteps not long after. Wiping off her tears, she tried to act normal.

—-----------------------------------------------

The day of the premier. Harry had woken up before everyone and was getting ready. The stylist had done his hair and makeup. He just had to change into his tux.

"Y/N, are you ready yet, baby?" He called out.

When there was no reply, he walked towards the bedroom and saw her in her PJs, eyes puffy and nose red.

"Baby, are you alright? What happened? Aren't you coming with me to the premier?" He asked.

"Um, no, I'm not. I don't feel good. I think I'm going to be sick. Can you go on without me today?" ,She lied, her voice hoarse.

Harry didn't think twice before agreeing. He was already nervous about how he was going to go to Kara's house with Y/N around. Now that she wasn't coming, it was easier for him to go to her place, but when he was about to leave for the venue, she felt bad about leaving Y/N in such a state. Was it fair to her, what he was doing? It's just a night, and Kara will be off to god- knows- where after that. It was his last chance. Harry walked towards the car with confident strides.

—--------------------------

After Harry slammed the front door shut, Y/N broke down. She couldn't take it anymore. Harry won't be home tonight. He'd be going to her house and he'd realise that all he wanted was Kara and leave them. Y/N decided that she would leave before he'd have to break the news to her - she didn't want to hear that from him, she didn't want what they had to end, but what choice did she have? He doesn't feel the same way anymore. What was the point of staying there? After tonight, he would never be hers. He was going to give Kara something that belonged only to them. After tonight, Y/N is nothing to him. With a heavy heart and tearful eyes, she started packing all her stuff.

By afternoon, she was able to pack everything. She told Beryl that they were going on a little trip. They had to leave before he came home. She didn't know where to go. She took out her phone and called the only person who came to her mind - her best friend Alice. She called an uber in the evening and loaded all their belongings into it. With sorrowful eyes, she looked over at their house one more time ; the house they bought together, the house she thought they'd grow old together in, the house they had built so many memories in. With trembling hands, she opened the door to the car, let Beryl and herself in.

—--------------------------------------

The event went well. Kara was not wasting any time, touching Harry any way she could. He didn't object or in any way try to get away from it. But he gradually started finding it a little uncomfortable.

The premier was over by 7o' clock in the evening. Everyone was going about their seperate ways and as the time passed, Harry became more and more fidgety and skittish. He saw Kara approaching and gave her a nervous smile.

"Um, I think we should go seperately you know, to not give the press anything to talk about." She said.

"Yeah, right. So erm… you will go now and I'll come to your place later?"

"Exactly. Plus…it will give me time to prepare ", she smirked, walking away.

—---------------------------------------

Harry's heart was racing. He stepped out of the car and walked towards the house. The yard was illuminated with lamps on either sides of the pavement. With each step, he was getting more and more anxious.

"This is it", he muttered to himself. The chilly air of the night made him shiver. He involuntarily put his hand inside his pants pocket. There was something there. He took it out, it was a folded piece of paper, sides crumpled. Curious, he gently opened it, inside it was a hand drawn picture. He realized that Beryl must have sneaked in that picture the day before. Three stick figures stood in front of a rose bush. The words "all the best, Daddy" was written in purple colour. He smiled at the memory - when he and Y/N took Beryl to the rose garden while they were visiting France. Beryl was so happy to see the butterflies she saw there. She had even made a new friend there. They explored the city and Beryl was so tired by the time they went back to the hotel room, which gave Harry some much needed intimate time with his wife.

He thought back to the time when Beryl was born. He was out of town for a meeting when Anne called him, saying that his wife had been admitted to the hospital. She was out with Anne and Gemma at the time. He got to the hospital as fast as he could. There she was, smiling like the angel she was, holding a small bundle of blankets in her hand. He rushed over to her and looked inside the bundle to see their little baby girl.

"Our little girl", he said, tearing up.

"Our little girl", she repeated. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Thank you for giving me the best gift in the world, I promise to love you both till the day I die."

Harry teared up at the memory. He had everything. Y/N gave him everything. What had gone wrong between them? Was she not enough for him? No, she was always more than enough, it was his own stupidity that led him to where he was now. Then realisation dawned upon him - he was searching for Y/N in Kara. The way she made him feel, the way she soothed him; but the truth was that he could never find it in Kara.

It was never Kara, it was Y/N , it was always her and it was high time he let her know that; he had been taking her for granted. Harry turned around and started walking towards his car with confident strides.

Wiping off his tears, he focused on the road. Kara had been blowing up his phone. He felt disgusted at himself for even considering cheating on his wife. And the worst part was that he had left her all alone, sick, to care for herself when he was so eager to have another woman under him. He felt pathetic.

—-------------------------------------------

He parked his car and ran towards the front door. The house was covered in darkness. Why didn't Y/N turn the lights on? Was she that sick? At that moment, Harry hated himself for leaving her in the bed.

He turned on the lights and called for Y/N. No reply. He walked towards the bedroom, only to find nothing but a pile of sheets. He checked every nook and corner of the house for them, but to no avail. Harry started panicking. What happened to his wife and child? Where were they? He checked his phone again. No calls or messages from her. He called her back, but all the calls went straight to voicemail. Walking back to his bedroom, he found something he didn't see when he first came in... her wedding ring? On top of a wrapped box? He realised that it was the very same gift he gave her to make up for their fight - it hadn't even been opened. On top of it was a letter.

He was confused. He gently opened the letter,

Dear Harry,

By the time you see this, we would be out of your hair. I know I have not been the best wife, and trust me I've been trying.

After you told me that we were a burden to you, I had been trying so hard not to be a burden; I used to stay late in the boutique, do everything for you so that you won't leave me; leave us. I had realised that you had fallen out of love with me, but I didn't want to be separated from you, I thought it wasn't fair to Beryl. I thought I could handle it. But I couldn't. I hated it when I saw you with Kara. I hate that you don't love me anymore and I hate myself for it. I had seen you that day at the cafe and had called you to let you know that I was there. But I didn't know that you were with someone else. I didn't say anything even after you came home, because I didn't want you to leave us. I selfishly held on to the hope that if I stopped bothering you for everything, maybe you'd stay with us. But that hope was shattered when I accidentally overheard you and Kara at the dinner. I couldn't stay here after that. I am taking Beryl with me. I know I don't have a place in your life anymore. It hurts like hell and I know that I would never be able to move on from you because I loved you; I still love you. I didn't want you to tell me that you don't want us here, so I left with Beryl this afternoon. Don't worry, we won't be a burden to you anymore. I don't want your money or fame or anything, I just have a request to you - even if you regret me, please don't regret Beryl, she would be heartbroken.

I would tell Beryl that you have gone back for tour; she'd be sad at first, but she'd get over it eventually.

We won't meet again, Harry. I'll stay out of your life for good. I really hope this was worth it.

Goodbye,

Y/N

Harry stood there with the letter in his hand, shocked. And when reality sunk in, he collapsed onto the floor, tears streaming down his face.

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harrygoeswest · 1 year

Text

Love Aged Like Fine Wine

Harry is drunk and lost not too far from home, and there's only one person he wants to call to rescue him.

A/N: Hello everyone 👋🏼 it has been a loooong time since I posted anything on Tumblr, and I was admittedly reluctant to do so. However, I reblogged the lovely Sarah's (@harry-on-broadway) fic challenge the other day and it inspired me, and I would be doing a disservice to write the whole thing and never look at it again, especially since I quite like it. SO, I give you my first one shot in over a year. Bear with me, I'm a bit rusty... Special mention as always to Miss Liz (@all-things-fic) for reading and validating me.

I'm using prompts 14 & 19.

Trigger Warnings: Absolutely nothing (apart from the odd f word)

Word Count: 6533

~~~

“What do you want, Harry?”

An offended scoff was his initial response. “Not a very nice way t’greet y’best friend.”

He was right, it wasn’t. “You’re not my best friend.”

“Ouch. Though’ we were besties ‘n now y’makin’ me feel sad.”

Harry was slurring more than he usually did. I feared if he tried to say obviously, ‘overshly’ would turn into a soft, deep single syllable alike to the word ‘shush’. It wasn’t particularly late to warrant his level of drunkenness. Especially on a Tuesday evening. Chewsday, if you will.

“Harsh truths are easier to take when you’re drunk.” I said, shrugging as if he could see the action.

“Why’re y’bein’ so ‘orrible?” He whined.

“Why are you calling me pissed as a fart at 8:45 on a Tuesday night and ruining my bath time?”

“‘S there some space lef’ in the bathtub?”

“Don’t make it weird.” I grimaced. “What’s going on?”

He produced an incoherent mumble. I heard the rain get heavier, both on the phone call and outside my house.

“What was that?”

“M’st…”

“Aye?” I asked, my face surely a bewildered picture.

“I’m lost.” He huffed, agitated.

I sat up in the bath, water and suds sloshing around me. “Lost?”

“Yes.”

“W-,” words failed me, and I barked out a sharp laugh. “How are you lost?”

“How does anyone else get lost?” He said, stroppy.

“Wow, you really are drunk.”

He hummed, but it was a defeated noise. “C’ya come ‘n get me?”

“How am I supposed to come and get you if you don’t know where you are?”

“Well I was only at The Holly Bush.”

I laughed twice as hard that time. Put in perspective, The Holly Bush is no more than a ten minute walk from Harry’s house. “How long have you been walking?”

“‘Bout ‘alf an hour.” He muttered.

Now I was really howling, like a hyena on laughing gas. “Jesus Christ, Harry!”

“‘S not funny!”

“On the contrary, years of comedy begs to differ.”

He practically cried my name down the phone. “‘M really tired ‘n cold ‘n… weh,” I think he meant wet, “please come get me.”

I took a deep breath and mourned my premature bath. “Fine. But do not move from wherever you are.”

“Won’t.”

I stood up and watched water and soap suds cascade down my body with a pout. “What can you see?”

“Er…” a pause followed, I assumed for his vacant thoughts. “‘S like a lot of trees.”

I rolled my eyes. “That could literally be any part of the Heath, mate. Say more words.”

“I can’t see shit! It’s dark and it’s pissing it down!”

“Don’t get arsey or you can stay there and drown in rain water.” I warned him. “Find a road sign. Or a street name.”

He grunted. After no more than fifteen seconds he produced, “Platt’s Lane.”

“Alright, I know where that is. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

“Thank you.” He said. At least I think that’s what he said.

I murmured a little, “Sure,” and then hung up.

I dressed quickly in the easiest clothes I could find - a pair of tie-dye jogging bottoms, an old t-shirt and a crewneck over the top. I pulled on the first pair of trainers I could find and ran out to my car whilst fighting the rain. I also took a towel with me. My hair was still in the bun I’d put it up in for my bath.

It was really battering it down now - it was loud inside the car and the windows were steamed up. It was even louder when I turned the air conditioning on to defog the windows.

Once I could see outside the front and back windows I finally made my way to find Harry. I still mourned my bath as I drove - I missed how warm it was and how comfortable I had been. Now I was out in the cold and wet to rescue my drunken idiot friend.

It didn’t take me very long to find said drunken idiotic friend. He was sitting on a yellow grit box under some trees at the junction of Platt’s Lane and West Heath Road. He was soaking, shoulders slumped and looking at the floor. I pulled up as close to him as possible and leaned over to push the door open.

“Get in, you moron!” I called.

Harry looked up at the sound of my voice. He leapt to his feet almost immediately after, and staggered his way over to my little car. He nearly tripped over twice on his way, and he hit his head as he sat down.

“Fucking hell.” I muttered. “Look at the state of you.”

He grumbled, readjusting his sodden jacket, and then looked right at me. His hair was drenched, water dripping from his neck down his arms and chest, and his forehead down his nose and cheeks.

“Here,” I threw the towel at him. “You’re gonna make my car smell.”

“‘S tha’ the wors’ a’ya problems?” He asked, a snide tone laced in his mushy words.

“I wish it was.”

I pulled off again as Harry began to attempt to dry himself off, although I feared a towel would do very little to help him. Fortunately we were only a mere five minute drive from his house anyway. He probably could have walked home faster if he were sober.

It was a relatively quiet drive since Harry spent most of it rubbing my towel over every available inch of his body. He did however sing along to the one song he heard playing, but he didn’t quite have the same masterful tone as usual. He even seemed quite timid.

I parked as close as possible to his front door and shut the engine off.

“Where are your keys, H?”

He gave me a dopey blink and then looked down at himself, double chin appearing accompanied with a pouty lower lip. “Dunno. On me somewhere.”

I sighed and unclipped my seatbelt, then reached over to him to feel through each of his pockets for his house keys. Of course I found them in the hardest one to reach on the inside of his jacket. He giggled while I did, like a child being tickled. I smacked him on the arm before I got out of the car.

I ran up to the front door and unlocked it, opening it so that my paralytic companion could be jettisoned inside his home as quickly as possible without getting more wet.

“Come on, then,” I said as I opened the passenger door, my shoulders hunched because the rain felt weird on my neck.

Harry practically fell out of the car at my instruction, so I lifted him up and placed his arm around my shoulder so I could manage his weight better. I kicked the car door shut behind us and walked him to the door. I realised on our little walk how unfit I was.

“‘M sorry.” He mumbled.

“It’s fine.” I said, my voice tight. It was only strained because he was heavy and I was weak.

“Didn’t even think I drank tha’ much, was only few whiskeys.”

Only a few could range anything between 3 and 30. I didn’t chide him for that. “It’s alright, Harry. I’m sure you’d do the same for me.” I meant that genuinely and not as a threat I’d be getting that level of drunk in the future just to call him to rescue me.

“Would.” He insisted.

I awkwardly held onto him as we got inside, twisting at an awkward angle to close the door and keep any more rain from getting in. Harry felt like dead weight against me.

“Ready to get upstairs?”

His affirming nod was the surest action I’d seen from him this far.

“Alright,” I took a deep breath, “let’s go.”

I made sure we navigated the stairs one at a time, because I had visions of him tripping up and cracking his head open if he tried to do anything by himself. And now, in the warmth of his massive home and up this close to him, the boy reeked of stale beer and sweat. I didn’t want to ask what he’d been doing in The Holly Bush for him to get that bad. I hadn’t seen him that wasted in a very long time.

“Meant it, y’know.” He slurred.

We were only halfway up the stairs and all I could hear was my own panting. Admittedly I was surprised he hadn’t passed out yet.

“Meant what?” I heaved, and pushed him up the next step.

“I w’ do the same f’you.”

“I know you would.”

“Don’t even have t’ be drunk.”

“Right.”

We stopped for a minute, not at anyone’s request but Harry didn’t seem to want to move. I looked at him as he did me, and he produced this hazy-eyed, closed-lip smile.

His woolly but content expression made me laugh. “I think it’s bed time for you, mate.”

He groaned. “Don’t call me ‘mate’.”

I frowned. “Alright. Sorry.”

When we finally reached the top of the stairs, Harry collapsed on me by way of a hug. We were standing in the middle of the hallway, his entire body somehow wrapped around mine. I was suffocating in the smell of a brewery.

“Don’t leave me.” He begged.

“I’m not… Need to get you to bed somehow.”

He pulled his head back to look at me, eyes heavy. “You can take me to bed.”

“That’s what I just said.”

He nodded repeatedly like a bobble-head figure.

I made a face, perturbed, and nudged him in the direction of his bedroom. He nearly fell over as he turned around, and ended up palming the wall the rest of the way. I kept a hand on his back just in case.

As soon as he saw his bed he was climbing onto it, still fully clothed and in his muddy trainers.

“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered, reaching after him like he was a toddler, “Harry, take your shoes off.”

He laughed maniacally into his bed sheets, the muffled sound disturbing.

I huffed with a scowl and did it myself. His vans were dripping wet so I took them to the radiator and left them on top to dry. I made sure the radiator was turned on, too. The last thing Harry Styles needed was the flu again.

He was sitting up now, watching me with a warm expression. I ignored it.

“Need to take your clothes off or you’ll get a cold.”

“Yes, Miss.” He was beaming now.

The attempt at taking his t-shirt off was painful, and I ended up having to help him.

“Jeans too.”

I knew that would be more agonising to watch than the t-shirt, and I didn’t want to have to look at his bare chest for too long, so I went for a walk to the closest bathroom to get another towel. His jeans were still around his knees when I got back.

“Jesus Christ.” I said through gritted teeth, and freed his jeans from around his ankles. They were a heavy kind of damp and thudded when I put them on the floor.

“‘S cold.” He commented, staring up at me.

“I’ve just put the radiator on.” I told him, and handed him the towel. “I’ll find you some clean pants.”

I left him to dry his no doubt tacky chest and legs while I searched through his drawers for some clean underwear. I threw them at him once I’d located them.

“Where’s your laundry basket?”

“Wardrobe.” He said, voice getting gruff.

I collected his dirty clothes from off the floor again and wandered into the walk-in wardrobe attached to his bedroom. I stared at it for a while, not just because it was ginormous but also because I couldn’t believe the amount of crap in it. It was bulging with clothes - some I hadn’t seen him wear for years and others I hadn’t seen him wear at all. Ever.

I dropped the clothes in my hand onto the overflowing basket in one of the cupboards, hating to do so because it was just adding to more chores. And then I realised that this was not my house and I would not be responsible for washing any of his clothes.

“Harry, do you want something to wear in bed if you’re cold?”

He never answered.

I peered into the bedroom to see he’d already tucked himself into bed.

“I guess not.” I muttered.

I stood next to his bed and watched him for a minute. His eyes were closed and he was breathing regularly but I couldn’t work out if he was actually asleep or just pretending to be. His eyelids looked shiny and delicate and his cheeks were dusted pink - a combination of his inebriation and being outside in the cold for so long. I could hear the radiator chugging and it was definitely warmer than it had been when we arrived.

Without thinking, still staring at him while possibly passed out like a lunatic creep, I wrapped my index finger around one of his curls and moved it out of his face.

He giggled suddenly, catching my wrist. “That tickled.”

I smacked his hand away. “I thought you were asleep, you absolute git!”

“Not yet.”

I rolled my eyes and scowled at him. “I’m goin’ home. Seeing you in bed is making me want mine.”

“Can always share mine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I scoffed, and made a move to leave. “I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

“Aye, wait!” He shouted at me.

“What?”

“I don’t want you t’ leave yet.”

“Well, I’m exhausted, and you’re about to pass out on me anyway.”

He said something that was complete and utter incoherent nonsense.

“I don’t know what you just said but I’m not changing my mind.”

He whined my name again and reached for my hand. “Please stay bit longer? Like havin’ y’here, havin’ y’around.”

“Well, that’s nice of you to say, but I still want my own bed.”

“Please?”

“No.” I stood my ground, but I took a step closer and pinched his cheek. “But I’ll come back tomorrow after work if that makes you feel better.”

“Feel better if y’stayed wi’ me now.”

“Well that’s not going to happen. Just call me if you need anything.”

“Need y’now. Need y’all the time.”

“Stop being daft.”

“‘M not bein’ daft - I mean it.”

“You are being daft. Just go to sleep - I’ll come back tomorrow. I promise.”

He stressed my name and sat up. “Y’not listenin’ to me. ‘M bein’ proper serious - I want ya t’ stay wi’ me. I need y’here.”

“No, what you need is sleep.”

He scowled at me.

“I’m going to go and get you a pint of water and a paracetamol and then I’m going home. And that’s the last we’re gonna say on this, end of.”

I left the room and found my way to the kitchen, though admittedly I did get lost on my way there since I’d only been here once before and it was a considerable amount of time ago. I did as promised and got him a pint of water and found some paracetamol in a drawer full of miscellaneous items close to the sink.

I couldn’t fathom why Harry was so needy, insobriety aside. We were friends, yes, and had been for some time, but we weren’t that close. Or perhaps we were and I just refused to admit it due to his increasing popularity and the fact that being perceived near him in the public eye terrified me. I was perfectly happy with my mundane job and my mundane life. I appreciated Harry for what he was - a friend -, and didn’t expect anything more or less from that level of our relationship. Nor had I ever, and it surprised me that he suddenly did.

Perhaps I was overthinking it all. That was likely.

I returned to Harry’s room to find him out of bed in just his pants.

“What are you doing?” I asked, putting the water and the tablets on his bedside table, trying to avoid looking at his chest.

“Need the loo.” He said without hesitation, and marched past me.

I sighed, watching after him until he was safely in the bathroom with the door closed, and then I perched on the edge of his bed with my head in my hands.

I was irritated, yes. I knew I shouldn’t be as irritated as I was, but I couldn’t help it. This was not the evening I had planned for myself. I was supposed to have an early night and go to work in the morning with a clear head and no bags under my eyes. Now I was going to look like the walking dead, and feel like it too.

I stood up again when Harry reappeared. I watched him stagger and sway across the corridor and it made me nervous. He tripped once and nearly smacked his face against the doorframe.

“Fucking hell, Harry.” I said, panicked, and reached forward to steady him.

He laughed, more a giggle of that from a small girl. “I’m so drunk.”

“I know you are. That’s why you need to get into bed.”

“I will, jus’ one more thing before I do,”

I thought he was going to start running riot around the house and I was going to have to chase after him, like a dog owner with a tyrannical pooch. But instead, he just wrapped his arms around my middle and shoved his face into the crook of my neck. His body was warm and it felt strange being this close to him when he had so little clothes on.

I let out a long breath, reciprocating it this time. “You’re a twat.”

He hummed when I stroked my hand over his damp hair. “Not very nice.”

“And yet still true.”

He grunted, but never moved a muscle. A moment of silence passed before he said anything else. “Thank you f’ comin’ to rescue me.”

“Sure, anytime.” I didn’t mean that. Or maybe I did, but I’d be bitter about it if it became a recurrence because I couldn’t stand to disappoint people who meant a lot to me.

He let me go, and I thought that was finally going to be the end of it. Instead, he took my face, quite harshly, between both of his hands until my cheeks squished. His gaze was dopey and warm again, but somehow different to last time. I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Harry, that hurts.”

He ignored me. “I love you.” It sounded more like ‘ah luff you’ but that wasn’t relevant in the moment.

“Yeah, I love you too, now let go.” I was trying to pull his hands away but apparently he was still physically stronger than me even that drunk.

“No,” he shook his head at me and then brought what felt like my entire body against his chest. “I mean I really love you.”

I couldn’t see anything. I felt us begin to fall sideways, but with his strength I had absolutely no control over where we were going.

“Harry!” I screamed, still trying to fight him with no luck.

I think we hit the bed because the landing was softer than anticipated and Harry didn’t wince or flinch. That could also be attributed to the levels of alcohol in his body. He was probably majoritively quite numb.

“Y’like, my favourite person.” He said, voice much quieter now, and I could feel his nose in my hair. My face was pushed into his chest. “Want y’around all time. Rubbish a’ showin’ it but I miss y’when ‘m nor’ at home. ‘N I don’t mean everyone, I mean jus’ you.”

I was listening to him with baited breath. I’d never really been on the receiving end of ‘drunk words, sober thoughts’ - I was usually the one talking and making a fool of myself. Once I told my sister’s boyfriend (at the time) what I really thought of him in front of our entire family after keeping my mouth shut for so long. They broke up the next day and she came to live with me for a month. I felt almost paralysed now listening to Harry.

“Mus’ think ‘m nuts ‘cause I’ve never said anythin’ before, bur’m scared. You’re a scary woman.”

I tried not to take offence to that, even though it was likely true. I had tried for the longest time to give off a very ambiguous aura. I didn’t want anyone to know me, least not the real me. I liked the illusion of being dead inside even if I was far from it.

“Loved y’ for so long now I can’ ‘ide it anymore.” He was really slurring now and words were about to fail him. Somehow, he was still holding onto me. “‘M like tha’ 1975 song.” I wanted to ask which one, but I didn’t have to. He proceeded to sing the words, “I’m in love with you.”

Just once he sang them, maybe slightly off pitch but it still sounded good. Not sure it would hold up to any of his previous performances, but I’d take it.

I didn’t know what to say. I was in a state of shock to be honest and the thought of moving terrified me. But then his grip around me loosened, and he let out a singular loud snore.

I pulled back, horrified, to see his sleeping face - mouth wide open. Another snore was released. “You are fucking joking.”

I sat up, his limp body falling away from me. I smacked his arm in the hopes of waking him, but he never flinched. “Harry,” I said, hitting him again.

Still no movement.

“Oi.” Smack.

Nothing.

I didn’t know what to do. Who does that? Who makes an admission like that and then falls asleep? And why did it have to be this boy? I was speechless, and when I finally managed to clamber off the bed I was also useless.

I stared at him with a look of bewilderment, as he lay there passed out on his unmade bed, mouth agape and naked besides his white y-fronts. It was then that the reality of what he’d said hit me, and I started to cry.

I wasn’t angry or upset - I was overwhelmed. Drunkenly, Harry had just told me he loved me. Then immediately passed out. Now I was left with my own feelings and his and no one to talk to about it. What was I supposed to do?

I desperately wanted to leave and get some sleep, but I also couldn’t help but think that would be morally inappropriate. Leaving a friend alone while dangerously intoxicated was how 50% of all murder documentaries started. Not that Harry was likely to get killed by an intruder in his mansion complete with security fortress. But he might accidentally fall down the stairs or choke on his own vomit.

And yet, the idea of staying in this massive and unfamiliar house to process all those thoughts made me even more hysterical. The idea alone provoked a loud sob, and I quickly covered my mouth because it was such a horrendous sound.

I made my decision that instant. I put Harry properly into bed with all of my remaining strength, covered him with his duvet, and then I fled from his house like a bat out of hell. On my way out, I took his spare keys with me.

I barely slept that night. My head was swimming and even though I couldn’t keep my eyes open, my brain was in overdrive. That, and the cat was sleeping on my chest and purring right in my face. His whiskers tickled my nose.

I found myself thinking about the early stages of mine and Harry’s association.

I couldn’t have called him a friend when we first met because I hated him. I don’t think that feeling was ever reciprocated on his part but I couldn’t ever stand to be in the same room as him. Why? Because I felt the need to constantly contradict societal comments and beliefs. The world - at least people in my world - deemed him a golden boy who never did any wrong. I was convinced it wasn’t the case. My downfall was my lack of determination to prove it.

We met through mutual friends, as these things always seemed to happen. I couldn’t even remember which friend it was - neither me nor Harry talked to them anymore. But one day he was just there, and periodically from then onward he continued to show up. I couldn’t even remember when it was, but it was before he cut all his hair off. One Direction’s last few remaining days, perhaps? Anyway, he was suddenly omnipresent and came with an abundance of attention and it infuriated me.

I remember once, Harry confronted me on my obvious dislike for him. That was our first encounter collectively with ‘drunk words, sober thoughts’. I can’t remember exactly what I said but I wasn’t very nice and I remember the Bambi look in his eyes when I walked away from him. After that he was notably absent for some time. If I asked him about it now I’m not sure how honest he’d be about it. He was lucky enough to be able to claim work absences for long periods of time - I imagined he’d use that excuse. How truthful that would be, I didn’t know.

Our reconciliation came after that. He saw me alone in the nearby shop and asked me to join him for a coffee. I couldn’t really say no - it was a Sunday afternoon and I was only going back home to vegetate for the rest of the day. I think it was spring - I probably would’ve just read a book and gone to bed early. We spent the next 3 hours in Ginger & White, and after we got kicked out of there we went up to The Holly Bush, ironically.

I saw a different side to Harry that night, and I always put it down to having him to myself. There was no one else there with us apart from the locals in the pub who wouldn’t bat an eyelid. It was just us, and he was unapologetically himself, as was I. We suddenly had an entirely new perception of one another - a higher level of understanding. On that random Sunday evening alone, I came to appreciate Harry for just being Harry. I saw who he really was, and I liked him.

From then on, I enjoyed his company. It became a regular thing - an afternoon doing something random together, just the two of us. And it ranged from simple coffee shop talks to entire day trips out of London. I realised then that what we’d basically been doing was dating for about 5 years with no physical contact.

I laughed out loud, disturbing the cat. He ran off and left me alone.

We’d had our own intimate relationships with other people outside of our friendship, which I guess is why I’d never thought about it that way before. He also seemed to do that with multiple other people - I wasn’t the only one. Was I?

I never had to apologise for the night I was rude to him. I always wondered why, and I always berated myself for not saying I was sorry. I’d admitted I was wrong about him a long time ago, but only to myself. It seemed a bit too late to do it now, but I assumed he’d forgiven me. I could’ve been wrong.

I think I finally fell asleep around 4am. My alarm for work went off just 3 hours later and I burst into tears as soon as I realised the situation I was in. I called into work sick and went straight back to sleep.

How much more sleep I had was uncertain. It felt like only 2 hours, but it could’ve been more. Since I wasn’t working, I decided to get a McDonald’s after showering. Mostly for Harry rather than me, although I’m sure he’d make a comment about it.

I used the key I’d stolen last night to let myself in and went straight up to his bedroom with the McDonald’s in my right hand. Except I didn’t make it to his bedroom, because I found him on the bathroom floor next to the toilet, on his front with his cheek pressed to the tile floor.

“Harry…?”

He moaned, limply raising his hand and dropping it again immediately.

I moved into the room, leaving the McDonald’s in the hall because the smell would not go well with the pre-existing one in the room. It seemed Harry had vomited since I left. I sat on my knees beside him and stroked a finger through his curls, similar to how I had done last night.

“Are you alright?”

“Not really.” He said, voice whiny.

“No, I’m not surprised. I brought you some breakfast.”

He managed to lift his head and look towards me. I pointed at the hallway and he followed where my finger suggested.

“What is it?”

“McDonald’s.”

He screwed his face up. “You know I don’t eat meat.”

“Yes, that’s why I got you a Fillet-O-Fish. And mozzarella sticks.”

“Not very healthy.”

“Well, boiled eggs and avocado doesn’t make for very exciting hangover food if you ask me.”

He blew a breath out so that his lips wobbled. “True.”

“You gonna sit up and eat it?”

He took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“Come on, then,”

I took his arm and helped pull him to a sitting position. He sat against the bathtub and rolled his head back, mouth open and breathing heavy. I left his food in his lap and sat opposite him with my back against the wall.

“This is probably one of the worst hangovers I’ve had in a long time.” He said, grimacing into the paper bag. At least he could form complete words this morning.

“How much do you remember?”

He laughed once. “Not much. I remember calling you, and waiting for you to come get me. I remember when you turned up, but that’s about it. I don’t remember getting home.”

I swallowed thickly. That meant he probably didn’t remember telling me he was in love with me. Or rather, singing it.

“Next thing I’ve woke up in my pants about to vomit.”

“I think you were the most drunk I’ve ever seen you.”

He paused before he took a bite out of his fillet burger. “Really?”

“Hands down. You fell over nearly three times. And you wouldn’t let me go home.”

“Oh, I’m not surprised by that. I’m a very clingy drunk.”

“I was aware of that before last night.” I muttered. “Who were you with?”

“Tom and Tyler.”

“Ah, one of those evenings, was it?

“Yeah, didn’t expect it to be quite that bad, though. Was only going for one.”

“That’s how they all start.”

“Mm, I should know better.”

“Yes you should.”

He laughed around his mouthful and then swallowed it. “This was a good call, thank you.”

“No problem. Although I have to say I did not expect to watch you eat it on the bathroom floor.”

“I know. Feel like a uni student.”

“I don’t think uni students have bathrooms this big.”

He smiled, but didn’t say anything while his mouth was full. “Think I’m gonna have a shower, if you don’t mind?”

I shrugged. “Your house.”

“Right.” He rolled his eyes in jest. “Will you hang around a bit while I do?”

“Sure. I’ll put some coffee on.”

“Cool.” He grinned.

He shoved the empty box into the paper bag and screwed it up. I took the rubbish off him once we were standing again and left him alone to shower.

I did as I said I would and made him a coffee, and then helped myself to a glass of water and an apple out of the fruit bowl on his counter. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen now. He seemed to be behaving normally, so I was certain he’d forgotten his admission, but that worried me because I was now going to have to admit that I knew. And I still wasn’t entirely sure how I felt.

When Harry did reappear he was fully clothed and looked a lot fresher than he had done before. His hair was damp but beginning to curl and his complexion had a bit more life to it.

“Feel better?”

“Loads better, thank you.”

“That’s good.” I said with a pressed smile. I pushed his coffee towards him.

“Cheers. Where’s yours?” He asked with a subtle frown as he took a sip out of his mug. He made an approving sound. “That’s good.”

“You know, I don’t actually like coffee.”

His frown deepened. “You have coffee all the time.”

“No, I have a mocha.”

“That’s still got coffee in it.”

“Yes, but the hot chocolate kind of makes it a fake coffee. A coffee for people who don’t like coffee.”

“Right.” He chuckled. “I had a thought upstairs just now… why aren’t you at work?”

“Because I barely slept.”

He looked concerned. “You better not have stayed really late because of me. Should’ve kicked me in the crotch and told me to get over myself.”

“Oh believe me, I tried to leave you here to go to bed, H. But I actually got back at an acceptable hour, that wasn’t the problem.”

“Just a bad night?”

I hummed. “No, I still blame you.”

“Why?” He asked, leaning his hip against the counter side.

I looked at the kitchen top and pursed my lips. “You… you told me something that gave me a lot to think about.”

“I didn’t give you some rubbish music samples, did I?”

I snorted. “I wish. Might’ve helped me sleep.”

“What then? I can’t remember anything.”

After a charged silence, I let out a long sigh. “You told me you love me. You said you love me, and then gave this little speech about missing me. And not just as friends - you said like The 1975’s song, I’m in love with you. But you sang that part, and then immediately fell asleep.”

When I met Harry’s gaze again he was staring at me, and biting his cheek. Neither of us said anything for a while. I was hoping he’d say something. Or perhaps me repeating what he said last night meant he felt like he didn’t need to say anymore.

I cocked my head. “Did you mean it?”

He stood taller, inhaling as his gaze became glassy. “Yeah. Yeah of course I did. Well, I didn’t mean to fall asleep, obviously. But I meant it, although I didn’t mean to tell you in that way… you know, while utterly shit faced.”

“You were completely shit faced.”

“Yeah… no, that’s not how I planned on telling you.”

“Was there a different plan?”

“Maybe…” He turned his nose up and scratched the back of his head. “If I told you what it was you’d hate it-,”

“You don’t know that.” I retorted.

He raised a judgemental brow at me. “Er, yes I do.”

I laughed and put my head on the table. “Whatever.”

“Anyway,” he huffed, but it had a lightheartedness to it, “of course I fucking meant it. Been living with it for ages - it’s all had time to brew. Aged like a fine wine.”

I started laughing, and then I felt his arms wrap around my chest. I was pulled up by him to stand straighter, and he rested his chin on my shoulder. His back was against my front and it felt quite nice. I don’t think we’d ever stood like that before.

“Your love has aged like a fine wine?”

“Sounds right cheap when you say it like that.”

“You said it. That is literally what you said.” I was still laughing.

“I know.” He whimpered.

I twisted my head to look at him, but he’d hidden his face. “You’re gonna have to bear with me.”

“In what way?”

“Well, this is a lot for me. I’m still… processing it, and I don’t know how I feel. You’re my friend and I love you, of course I do. Just…”

“Not in love with me yet.” He concluded.

“Yet.” I sniggered.

“I’ll remain optimistic, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

He giggled, and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Take your time. Preferably not forever though, ‘cause… the biological clock is ticking.”

I snorted again. “Reel it in.”

“Sorry.” He hummed and squeezed my shoulders tightly. “I am going to have a movie day on the sofa. Do you want to stay?”

“For that I do, fuck yeah.”

“Sweet… go and make yourself comfy. I’ll get the snacks.”

He bumped my hip with his when I passed him so I kicked him back. He gave a childish laugh, and I shook my head at him, but I found as I wandered into his overcompensating living room that I had this giddy feeling in my stomach I’d never felt with him before.

What was I, the most stubborn woman on Earth, going to do?

“What d’you want, H?”

“Not a very charming greeting.” He groused.

I pouted. “You’re interrupting my bath time.”

“Is there some space left in the bathtub?”

I smirked and sank lower into the water. “For you? Never.”

“Hey!”

“Always,” I laughed around my correction, “I meant always.”

“That’s more like it.” He chuckled. “I was calling because I think it might be my turn to get dinner. So what do you fancy?”

“Well, you, obviously.”

“Obviously.” His matter-of-fact tone matched mine. I could imagine him nodding his head. “How about a chippy?”

“Oh, fuck yeah. My usual please.”

“Curry sauce too?”

“Wouldn’t be my usual without it.”

“Just checking. So, I will be knocking on your door within the next hour. Make the most of that bath ‘cause I’m coming.”

“Cool. See you in a bit.”

“Bye-bye.”

“Love you!” I shouted before he could put the phone down.

He was quiet for a minute. “Blimey. Don’t need to shout it, darlin’.”

I threw my head back and laughed. “Just in case you forgot.”

“I could never. But I love you more. See you shortly.”

“Okay, bye-bye. Love you most.”

“No!” He shouted, but I cut him off before he could refute it more.

I felt smug. I let out a satisfied sigh and laid my head back against the edge of the tub.

I had taken my time in coming around to Harry’s admission, but he was incredibly patient with me and I was always grateful for that. It had been little over a year since his little bender, and I felt really good about everything. We felt really good about everything.

Our relationship seemed to only be moving up at a pace we were both happy with, and I couldn’t ask for anything more. All we had to do was keep it that way, and I had every confidence we could.

~~~

If you read this far, thank you <3

Come Talk To Me

#harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harryonbroadwayficchallenge #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles ff #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst imagine #harry styles angst imagines #harry styles fluff imagine #harry styles fluff imagines #i forgot how much i fucking hate writing tags on the bottom of posts #this is endless

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harrysfolklore · 1 year

Note

Yaaaas to the photographer blurb!!

here it is ! photographer!yn and harry’s first meeting <3 this is also my entry for @harry-on-broadway’s writing challenge !! the dialogue i picked is in bold 💖💖 hope you like this

PHOTOGRAPHER!YN INSTA BLURB

ask me anything | masterlist | likes and reblogs are appreciated ! | SUBSCRIBE TO MY PATREON

Life could take crazy turns sometimes.

And as YN arrived to the location where she was going to shoot the latest cover for Rolling Stone magazine, the only thing she could think about was how her life was about to change forever.

It wasn't just any magazine cover, it was Rolling Stone's first ever global cover, and the person on it was no other than the world's most wanted man, Harry Styles.

It was safe to say that she was very shocked when she got the email inviting her to be the person behind the camera for the occasion, and she was even more gobsmacked when she found out that Harry himself suggested that she was the ideal person to shoot his cover.

Turns out, Harry found out about her through his photographer and friend Anthony Pham, and ever since he saw her pictures he knew he needed to work with her.

And he didn't want to admit it yet, but he thought she was absolutely gorgeous.

Taking a deep breath and with her camera gear in hand, YN approached the group of people gathered in the location getting everything ready for the shoot, and she felt a bit of relief when she spotted Harry Lambert, someone who she knew and had worked with in the past.

"YN, you're here ! I was waiting for you." Lambert said as he bend down a little to give her a hug as a greeting, YN hugging him back and her nerves calming down a bit already.

"It's so good to see you again, Lambert. But I'm not late am I?" being late was one of YN's biggest pet peeves and the mention of Lambert waiting for her sent alarms to her brain.

"Oh no dear, you're not, I was just eager to show you the looks we picked for the shoot. Who's actually quite late is our boy Harry, which is rare for him." and before you could reply, a voice made both of you turn around.

"Come on Lamby, don't go around putting on a bad word for me." Harry said as he walked in, wearing comfortable clothes and with a cup of coffee in hand, his manager Jeffrey following behind.

"What can I say sue, the first impression is the one that matters." they joked around and YN coulnd't help but smile a bit, she could tell they were a great group of friends and not just coworkers.

However, YN's smile turned into a nervous expression when she noticed Harry approaching her.

"Hello, I'm Harry, It's so nice to finally meet you." YN thought it was quite endearing how he introduced himself by name even thought she was pretty sure everyone in the world knew it, and she allowed herself to stare at his eyes for a second before introducing herself.

"I'm YN, and It's really nice to meet you too, I was so eager to work with you." she said and a smile made its way to both of their faces. YN had worked with celebrities in the past and most of them were entitled, with a preppy attitude and overall rude for no reason, Harry however, gave her a warm and friendly vibe, he was someone down to earth and that was easy to tell.

"Harry! Time for clothes and makeup!" his manager called out for him and that was their cue to go their own ways, YN knew already this was going to be her best shooting.

A couple hours had passed and the shooting was going smoothly, they had moved to different locations and Harry had changed clothes multiple times.

YN found out that Harry was a great person to work with and he was easy to direct, on top of that he was really friendly and kept making conversation all the time.

Or more like, he kept teasing YN because according to him "she is really tiny and It's adorable how she carries her big cameras around", it was safe to say that YN's cheeks were constantly blushing.

"You know, I feel like I'm going to love this photoshoot so much to the point it will become my favorite." Harry said after a couple of flashes were snapped, a red and white jumpsuit whit a yellow cardigan adorning his body, he picked a flower that was laying around and decided to use it as a prob for the pictures.

"I mean, that would make me feel really accomplished" YN snapped a couple more pictures, she enjoyed capturing spontaneous moments when people in front of the camera where being their natural selves.

"You don't need my validation to feel proud of yourself though, you're an amazing photographer" he said as he posed of YN's camera, and she was glad the device was covering her face and he couldn't see her cheeks blushing once again.

"Thank you Harry, that's very nice of you" YN told him sincerely, and when she caught a glimpse of his eyes, she knew he had something on his mind that he was yet to tell her.

"You know, my current tour photographer needs to take a break to take care of some family stuff," he cautiously began, "And I'm going to need someone who can take his place, I know you did some tour photography before the pandemic, if you don't have any upcoming projects scheduled, I would be thrilled to have you on the road" and YN was completely taken back by the offer, not expecting to end the day with a new job opportunity, and a huge one.

Even though YN knew taking this opportunity would be life changing for her, she couldn't help but let intrusive thoughts cloud her head, "I mean, I'm really flattered for the offer, but I'm not sure if I'm the ideal person for the job," she hid behind her camera again, feeling slightly embarrassed all of the sudden.

"Of course you are, I wouldn't be offering you the job if I didn't think you were," he said and before the photographer could protest, he spoke again, "Besides, if you're not sure about all the traveling, we're doing residencies this time," YN could tell that he really wanted her to take the offer, and she knew she wanted too, but the little voice on his head was not on her side as usual.

"Look Harry, I'm really grateful for the offer and I know it'll be a great opportunity for me, but I need to meditate it a bit before I make a decision, okay?" and YN could see a small smile on his face caused by her response.

"Okay, but I'm not going down without a fight, just so you know!" he pointed the flower on his hand at her before, causing both to laugh before YN focused on photographing him again.

Another hour had passed and the photoshoot was successfully wrapped up, many crew members had said their goodbyes already and YN was putting away her camera equipment when Harry approached her again.

"So, have you made your mind up about the tour photographer position?" he told her with a mischievous expression, he wasn't lying with his previous statement about not going down without a fight, he had been mentioning the wonders about the job and persuading YN to take it at least every 15 minutes.

"You're really persistent, aren't you?" YN said as she put her backpack on her shoulder, a small smile on her own appearing on her face.

“I’ll take that as a compliment” and even thought YN completely missed the flirtatious tone on his voice, Harry definitely noticed how flustered she suddenly got.

"Look, I'll think about it," and that was enough for Harry to get giddy and excited already, "And I'll give you a reply by the end of the week, okay?" she said as they began to walk together towards where their cars were parked.

"That's wonderful, I can't wait to be tourmates with you, tiny."

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didhewinkback · 1 year

Text

Something Old

Written for @harry-on-broadway's fic challenge.

Written prompt used: "What's this, then?"

Watching your childhood best friend (& the man you've been in love with for half your life) get married proves to be harder than you thought. Will you be able to make a quick getaway to avoid further heartbreak? Or is it finally time for the truth come out?

A/N: the pic represents more of an overall vibe rather than a definite representation of what he is wearing. but the vibes of the pic are absolutely accurate. some liberties have been taken with accurate chronology of his dating life bc this is fiction town usa baby. takes place during the fine line era, in a world with no covid. dream world. please let me know what you think!

-----

There was a huge water fountain, right in the middle of the hotel courtyard, making criss-cross patterns into the pool below and you couldn’t take your eyes off of it. It was soothing, in a way. Or at least you were trying to force the concept of being soothed upon yourself, trying to focus in on the sounds of the water and the lights reflecting off of it. Anything to not think about the background noise of the party, of the clinking glasses and what that sound would mean, to think of him – nope. Back to the fountain.

Your mother cleared her throat. Her eyes had been burning holes into the side of your face but you couldn’t face her or that look of pity in her eyes. Your fingers tapped against the handle of your suitcase as you kept your eyes on the water. Just keep staring at the water.

“Did you call an Uber or…?”

“I’m just going to take the rental back to the city and go from there.”

“You could always take it back to the house. Bit of a drive but…”

The thought of walking into your childhood home, alone, while his own childhood home sat right next door was too much to bear. “I don’t,” you cleared your throat as your voice caught, “I don’t think I can be surrounded by all those memories. God, Mum, this is so embarrassing –”

“Oh, baby, no. Come here” Your mom rushed over to you and wrapped her arms around you in a death grip as you let yourself collapse into her arms, feeling 8, 15 and 26 all at once. The tears which you had been trying to save for the drive poured out of you, your mum shushing you as you buried your face into her shoulder. She stood there and held you tight, letting you release all the emotions you had pent up since you got here. You had never had an explicit conversation with her about your true feelings for Harry but with the way she was holding you, you knew you never had to. She knew. The thought made you tighten your arms around her, burying your head a little deeper as the tears flowed. Just a few more minutes.

“I’m getting your dress soaked,” you said, trying to pull your head away and pull yourself together before your mum tightened her arms around you, holding you in place.

“Could give two shits about my dress.” “Mum!” “I’m serious, I don’t care. Not when my baby is weeping in my arms.”

“Okay, I’m hardly weeping,” you huffed a laugh as you took a step back and wiped your face, looking into your mum’s kind eyes, glassy in their own right.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk to him? Tell him what’s on your mind?”

You shook your head before she even finished her sentence. You had tried that, years ago. Winter break 2013. He had been gone almost two years, touring and traveling the world while you watched from afar at uni. You had walked down your stairs, rehearsing your big speech in your head while smoothing down the new skirt you bought for the occasion, only to look up and find him in your living room with the most famous pop star in the world in his arms. He had brought her home to “meet the family” he said. Which included you. You were just family. And he dated pop stars now. A gut punch that you quickly healed with copious amounts of tequila. And a drunken hookup with a boy from sixth form. It was fine. You were fine.

You had been best friends since you were 8, neighbors since you were 6, and for years you brushed off your crush, chocking it up to an extension of affection for your first male friend - the boy who made you laugh until you cried, who always needed help with math homework, who dragged you onto the dance floor when everyone else was too nervous to at that first school dance. The boy who stood in front of you in his bedroom, nervously singing along to a Youtube track before asking you if this was something you thought he could do, for real. The boy who invited you to join him a few weeks each summer, riding bikes through muggy Colorado streets for late night froyo or hiking those Hollywood hills. The boy growing into a man who called you when you were studying at the library, in the middle of the night halfway across the world, feeling overwhelmed by the pressure and needing a piece of home to slow his exhausted, racing mind.

This crush was something you thought you would grow out of. Except you didn’t. His life had become drastically different than the one you two had shared in your small hometown but whenever you were together, it was like no time had passed. After that fateful winter break, you had tried to keep your distance but each time you saw him, you were sucked right back in.

There had been more moments - falling over yourselves during a drunken McDonalds run, or during a screaming match in the middle of a very competitive round of charades, or when he bounded off stage after that first solo night at MSG, wrapping you in his arms and holding tightly - moments where the words were about to burst from your chest, overwhelmed by the love you felt for him. But you knew it would never work - he wasn’t interested. And, even if he was, you were nowhere near his league. Even his one night stands were straight off the Forbes 500 list. Not that you were ashamed of yourself or who you had become, you just knew, for many reasons, that there was a disconnect there. He wasn’t interested. You were family. You had to keep it that way.

You steeled yourself to get over it, to be okay with just being his friend. And you had convinced yourself it worked. You had met his girlfriends over the years; no longer tearing yourself apart in comparison as you blossomed into that confidence that comes with getting older and finding your place in the world. Falling into relationships with some really great guys, guys that you really cared for, who made you laugh and met your family on your birthdays. But no matter how hard you tried, those relationships always seemed to fizzle out because you never felt that spark. That once in a lifetime spark. That spark you felt the second you saw him yesterday - a smile blooming across his face as his arms lifted up in a cheer when he locked eyes with you. All that hard work shot to shit in an instant.

You snapped back to reality, shaking your head more fiercely, desperately trying to get those memories to fall out of your head forever. “That’s not how he sees me, Mum. It’s not - this is just something I have to get over. But I can’t do it here.”

Her face fell, before she took a deep breath and steeled herself. “Okay,” she said, looking at you with new determination. “So, what’s the story? Work emergency? Appendicitis? Stomach virus? Uncontrollable pooping?”

“Mum! Oh my god!”

“What?!” she shrugged, her eyes glowing with a playful twinkle as she watched the smile grow on your face. “I just feel like the more details we provide, the more believable it will be.”

“Whatever you have to do,” you said, rolling your eyes as you pulled her into another hug.

“It’ll be okay, lovebug,” she whispered in your ear. “This pain won’t last forever. He’s not the be all, end all.”

“Why does it feel like it then?” you said softly, tightening your arms around her, unable to stop yourself when more tears began to fall. “I really have to get going, I don’t want anyone to see -”

Suddenly, the sounds of the party got progressively louder as the doors swung open. Your stomach sank as you heard the last voice you wanted to hear. “There you are! Been looking all over for you two. Ang? - Oh. ”

“Yeah?” Your mom turned to face him, blocking you from view as you furiously wiped away your tears.

“Mum’s been looking all over for you. Something about a bet involving tequila shots…”

“Ah, was hoping she’d forget about that. Tell her I’ll be in in a bit, just need to help this one -”

You cleared your throat, keeping your head down as you nudged her forward. “No, Mum, it's fine. Go in. I’ll be okay.”

She turned to look at you, eyes searching. “But you’re not feeling. well.” She emphasized her point by placing her hand on your forehead. Oh, god. No Oscar in her future then.

You looked at her, feeling his eyes on you, shaking your head. “It’s okay. Really. Have fun”.

“Love you.” She kissed you on the cheek as she squeezed your hand, whispering, “Be brave”.

You kept your eyes to the ground as you heard her walk inside, closing the doors behind her. Enveloping the two of you in silence. You looked up, taking him in for the first time all night. He knocked the wind out of you.

His white suit was tailored to perfection, the dress shirt open in a deep v down his chest, revealing the smattering of tattoos that you swore he’d regret one day, but that only looked perfectly in place as his muscles grew more defined. His hair, curls tousled just the way you liked it. The smattering of scruff along his chiseled jawline, held tightly as he took in the scene in front of him. He looked good.

You can’t imagine what you looked like. Tear tracks streaking down your face and hair messy from how often you had been nervously running your hands through it. Dressed for a cocktail hour while wearing your sneakers for the quick getaway. You had to get the fuck out of here.

“Thought only the bride was supposed to wear white.” The words slipped out of your mouth before you had the chance to stop them. This was not the time for banter. You should be in the car already, leaving all this behind you. You snuck a look at his face, his green eyes locking with yours, his brow furrowed in confusion.

He looked right at you, his deep voice rumbling as he shot back, “Wanted to be dramatic. It’s my day too.”

“Classic H.” you said. You could not get your feet to move. Your car was no more than 10 paces away and yet here you were, frozen under his questioning gaze.

“What’s all this, then?” he asked, as he took in your suitcase, the car keys fiddling around in your hand. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah. Uh, a work emergency came up.”

“Bullshit.”

“No it’s not -”

“Your mum just said you weren’t feeling well.”

Shit. “Both things are true. H, please just - I have to go.”

“No, I think I have the right to know why my best mate is leaving my wedding weekend early. Why you’re standing out here with your mum and - are you - were you crying?” He looks desperately confused, eyes searching your face. “Need you to talk to me.”

He takes a few steps towards you when he notices your hands visibly starting to shake. “Hey, hey…” He reaches his hands towards yours as you quickly put your hands on your suitcase, pulling it towards you. You take a few steps back and try to take a few steadying breaths.

“Please,” your voice was barely a whisper. “You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“I always notice when you're gone. Haven’t been able to find you all night, I’ve been trying to hang out with you. Wanted to spend time with you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the look on his face, trying to not think too hard about those words. Trying to be casual, nonchalant. Trying to be anything but the crumbling mess you were in front of him. “C’mon, I’m not even in the wedding party it’ll be better -”

“Is that what this is about? You knew we were keeping it small on purpose, didn’t think you needed to be in the bridal party to know how much y’mean to me but I guess–”

Anger suddenly swirled in you, turning your cheeks warm, eyes blazing. As if you’d be out here having a full mental breakdown over something so trivial. You scoffed, “You think I’m out here crying because of some arbitrary fucking title? You know that’s never mattered to me when it comes to you.”

“Then WHAT is going on with you?”

“Can you please just drop it and let me –”

“It’s my fucking wedding, you’ve been avoiding me ever since you got here. I need you here and you’re just standing outside with your car keys and your fucking suitcase like it’s nothing. Like I’m nothing–

“Oh my god, how can you even say that – ”

“Well, what am I supposed to think? I’m flying blind here you won’t TALK to me–”

“I CAN’T WATCH YOU MARRY HER!”

The words were loud, louder than you meant them and out faster than you could stop them. Fuck. This was. Not. How This. Was supposed to go. You shut your eyes. Your mind was racing, mouth trying to move to make an excuse but you couldn’t think of anything and then you hear a derisive snort, your eyes flying open to see his, suddenly colder, taunting.

“‘S that what this is about, then? Never did like her, did you? Always wondered when we’d have this conversation. Thought you may have been a little more fair and try to do it before my wedding weekend but hey, guess I’m not the only one who can be dramatic.”

You stood there, gaping at him, tears pricking your eyes as he glared back at you.

“Let’s hear it, then. What’s so wrong with her?”

Oh, he misunderstood. You could let him think this is the truth, that you’re just some bitchy childhood friend who never approved of the fiancée and waited until the last moment to make a dramatic exit. You could leave right now and let him think that. But he needed to know the truth, as painful as it may be. You began to shake your head, the tears seconds from pouring out.

“No, that’s not - you’re not understanding me.”

“Am I not? Seems pretty clear to me” His tone was still taunting, angry. He had every right to be. This was supposed to be the biggest weekend of his life and here he was, out here with you, instead of partying with all of his loved ones mere feet away. The thought of it made the tears spill over, a small sob escaping you. Through the tears you saw his face drop, his brows furrowing.

“It’s not her. She’s lovely. She’s so lovely and you should be in there with her. You could be marrying fucking Beyonce and I wouldn’t be okay with it. I … I can’t watch you marry someone else without - without wishing it was me instead.”

You watched as he froze, his eyes widening. In shock? Anger? Pity? You weren’t quite sure.

You took a deep breath and kept going, continuing to dig yourself into the grave of your own making. Every part of you was screaming at you to stop, but now that you got started, the words kept coming, “I’ve been in love with you since we were like 15. You’re my best friend in the whole world and I…god, I can’t breathe when I look at you sometimes. You’re the first person I want to make laugh with a new lame joke, the first person I want to share good news with. The first person I want to do anything with. You’re kinda it for me. Always have been. You’re just my favorite person in the world. And I –”

You shook your head, cutting yourself off. Your heart was about to beat out of your chest, your cheeks burning. You stand there, slightly panting, watching him watch you, his own eyes glassy, his own breath coming in fast spurts. Neither of you dared to move.

You stand there, watching as your confession explodes between the two of you, helpless to do anything but stand in the carnage. It is deadly silent. A minute passes, then another. It could be five, it could be twenty. What did you just do?

“Fuck, fuck, I’m sorry.”, you said frantically, your brain finally catching up to your mouth. “You should go back inside. I’m –”

He inhales sharply, head shaking in disbelief, “Y’think - y’think I’m going to go back in there right now? After–? Fuck.”

He drags his hand down his face, bringing his other hand to meet it and standing there with his head in his hands. You wish you could get a good read on him, to tell how he’s feeling, but you just stand there, heart beating wildly, in disbelief of what you have done.

“I’ve got a reception hall full of people here.”

“I know.”

“People traveled for this.”

“I know.”

“Why - why now? I had no fucking idea. Why’d you never tell me before?”

“I tried, but the timing was never right – ”

“Yeah, well, your timing right now is impeccable,” he deadpanned.

You rolled your eyes, though his sense of humor reappearing made a zing of hope run through you. Maybe he won't hate you forever. Maybe, one day, the friendship could be salvaged. Maybe you didn’t just embarrass yourself beyond belief - though your burning cheeks indicate otherwise.

He clears his throat, pulling you out of your racing mind. “This whole time…you’ve felt this way? This whole time?”

You had been expecting to confess and run. For him to smile politely at you, let you down easy. You had spent your whole life believing this was a one sided thing. But here he was, looking utterly wrecked, his green eyes never once wavering from yours.

“Yes, H,” you told him. “I’ve loved you this whole time.”

You watch as his face crumbles slightly. He brings a hand up to his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, a mumbled, shaky “fuck” leaving his lips.

You clear your throat and wipe at your eyes, praying your waterproof mascara is doing its job. As much as you want to live in this fantasy of possibilities, you can’t let yourself make more of a mess of this than you already have. He was getting married. Tomorrow.

“H, the last thing I ever wanted to do is ruin this for you”, your voice shakes the more you look at him, “I will be fine. You should go back inside. I’m going to go.” You grab your suitcase and keys and start to make your way to the car. The sound of his voice calling your name stops you in your tracks.

“Don’t,” he says, his voice cracking.

You turn to face him, finding him staring right back at you. His glassy eyes ablaze, his jaw set. You don’t make a sound.

“Please.” He closes the distance between you in a few quick strides. Hesitantly, he lifts his hand to your jaw. You’re sure he can feel the warmth there, blooming at his touch. You lock eyes with him, both of you barely breathing. After a second, his thumb caresses your cheekbone, his eyes fluttering closed. He leans his forehead against yours and you can feel his hot breath on your lips, the smell of mint and tequila filling your nose. You might pass out.

“This is a lot to process,'' he whispers.

“I know.” You try to pull your head back a bit to give him space, but he holds you steady in his grip. His other hand falls to your waist, both of you inhaling sharply at the contact.

“I have to go back in there. Supposed to get married tomorrow,” he whispers as his thumb starts to draw circles on your hip bone. You’re sure even he can hear your heartbeat at this point, the way it’s thundering in your ears.

“Y-you don’t owe me anything, you know”, you whisper back, his brow furrowing as he feels your breath on his lips. “Just because I told you. There’s no pressure or anything. I know, like… I’m not….I’m not expecting - I should -”

He takes a step closer to you, pulling you flush against him, effectively cutting you off. “Don’t. You can’t. ‘S not pressure, I just - I don’t know”, he takes a deep breath, “I need time. Please. Don’t leave. You don’t have to go back in there but don’t leave tonight. Please.”

He kisses you on the cheek.

“Please.” His words fall across your lips as he moves to kiss your other cheek.

“Fuck. I wish…just - please don’t go.” He leans in slowly, kissing you once on the neck, right below your ear, inhaling deeply. His forehead falls to your collarbone, resting there. “You can’t go, not yet. Not until…Please. I need time to think. I don’t know. Promise me you’ll still be here later tonight.”

He lifts his head, holding eye contact with you until you nod, bringing your hand up to wrap around his wrist, moving your thumb in soothing circles. He stares at you, eyes dropping to your lips, then back up to meet your eyes. His grip on your hip tightens, his eyes dropping to your lips once more.

You hear glasses tinkering, calls of his name. Shit. You take a step back, his hand sliding from your jaw to your wrist, holding a loose grip. Your cheeks burning at how caught up in the moment you got, head reeling at what this could all mean.

“I have to -” “I know.”

He leans in, presses his lips to your forehead, not once letting go of your wrist.

He steps back, his glassy eyes flitting all over your face before meeting yours once more and holding your gaze. “You’ll be at the hotel later tonight? You promise?”

“I promise,” you say, squeezing his hand once before letting go.

He nods sharply, walking backwards towards the door, eyes never leaving yours. He stops right before the entrance, quickly wiping at his eyes, shaking his head. You can see him physically brace himself as he pulls the door open, a tight smile on his lips as he gets pulled into the party once more.

The doors close, once again surrounding you with silence. With your own thoughts. The feeling of his lips on your neck playing over and over again in your mind.

Holy. Shit.

#harry styles fan fiction #harryonbroadwayficchallenge #harry styles angst #would u believe this was supposed to be posted 3 hours ago but i got so hung up on one detail that i couldnt iron out #i am a gal who loves run on sentences with commas and for that i will not apologize #fic rec #babys first fic #cant believe we are here #harry styles fic #i have read this so many times i started to hate it thats when ya know its time to post #just losing it in the tags over here #something old

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hslllot · 1 year

Text

insieme in paradiso

“together in paradise”

rated m | 2.7k words

better late than never, right? this is a short piece for my dear friend’s @harry-on-broadway fic challenge (the prompts used are in bold)! It is basically an extended version of this concept I wrote back in 2021... We’ve had such great latam content lately that I feel like I should have adjusted the setting of this, but I hope you enjoy anyways! As always, please let me know what you think. xx shan

———

Was this heaven?

You were certain that you’d never felt more relaxed as you bathed in the Tuscan sunlight. Lounging beside your love, you let your eyes close, the book you were reading abandoned in the sand next to your chair ages ago. Every worry, every stressor, every bit of tension in your muscles that you carried with you drifted away in the winds of the ocean breeze.

This was the private getaway with Harry you’d been longing for. It seemed like forever since the two of you were able to spend an extended amount of time alone together.

“Mum just posted this photo. Look. Thea’s getting so big.” Your boyfriend interrupted your daze when he reached out from beside you to shove his phone in your face.

You opened your eyes slowly and lowered your sunglasses so you could take a proper look. Using your hand to shield the glare of the Italian sun, you saw on his screen an Instagram story his mother had posted of his cousin’s baby.

“She’s adorable, H.” You responded, adjusting your sunglasses back to cover your eyes. “We should give Ella a call later, maybe we can FaceTime.” All you heard in response was a short grunt as he laid back in his chair, eyes still fixed on his screen.

He was grumpy and you could tell.

One thing about your boyfriend of three years, which you found incredibly endearing, was that he loved his family more than anything. Unfortunately, when his family was gathered and he couldn’t be there, he’d tend to get a bit pouty. You’d find him glued to the group chat or Instagram to get updates on what they were up to. Sometimes you would catch him ‘liking’ or ‘reacting’ to their posts and stories (on his private account of course) in an attempt to make himself feel more included.

Birthdays. Weddings. Babies. There was a long list of family events he often had to miss because of his job, and you knew it weighed heavily on his heart.

A small part of you was slightly annoyed that he wished he were somewhere else. But another part of you, perhaps the more compassionate part, understood that multiple truths could exist at once: 1) He was happy to be spending time with you, 2) he was grateful for his job that took him to beautiful countries and allowed him to live a lavish life, and 3) he missed his family dearly.

But sometimes you didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just go home and visit them whenever he felt like it. He certainly could afford it, and he had the power in all of his business relationships to take a vacation whenever he felt like it. Sometimes you wished he had more of a ‘diva’ type attitude when it came to certain things, like allowing himself to take breaks from work. However, another thing about your boyfriend was that he was a chronic overachiever and people pleaser with a tendency to overcommit to new projects. And you figured it wasn’t so bad to have a partner in life who was considerate of other peoples’ time and feelings.

Plus, you couldn’t complain much because his commitment to a new project was how you found yourself at the beautiful, private, Il Pellicano in Tuscany.

The two of you were finally spending some much needed quality time together. Coordinating your schedules had been an absolute nightmare and it was a miracle that you were able to take some time away from work to join him on this trip. He was technically here on business, preparing for the launch of his Gucci collection with Alessandro. But you had spent the majority of the trip together, watching him model his clothing, sitting side-by-side on the small private beach of your villa, and wrapped around one another in the bedroom.

At the moment though, Harry’s frustration, guilt, and longing to be with his family was threatening to penetrate the bubble of relaxation surrounding you. You could feel the restless energy emanating off of him. Without opening your eyes you heard the way he moved around in his chair and sighed under his breath as he scrolled through his phone and typed away messages in his family group chat. When you finally did open your eyes you found him on his stomach, his head at the other end of the chair near your feet, and his phone two inches from his face. And while this position afforded you a great view of his tanned back and taut muscles glistening in the Italian heat, clad only in a small pair of black swimming shorts, you could feel the tension radiating from him and you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

You reached across and placed your hand on the back of his calf, rubbing your thumb back and forth against his warm, sun-kissed skin, as if to soothe him.

“Hey baby?”

“Hmmm?” He responded mindlessly, not bothering to look up from his phone.

“Hey, look at me.” You urged, squeezing his calf to gain his attention.

“Sorry” he murmured, putting his phone down. He twisted in the lounge chair to face you, sitting up to give you his full attention. You reached for his hand and intertwined your fingers with his.

“I was thinking… I know we’re supposed to head back to London on Sunday, but what if we took a few days in Holmes Chapel?” He raised an eyebrow at you curiously, wordlessly asking where this had come from. You continued, “It’s been so long since we’ve seen Anne and I miss her… Plus, we’ve only seen Thea once since she’s been born. I think I can extend my vacation by a few days.”

He sat there for a moment silently, teasing at his bottom lip.

“I have a meeting with Lambert and Molly on Monday in London.” He winced, remembering his prior commitment.

“Surely you can do it over Zoom. Or just push it a couple days. You are the boss, aren’t you?”

Something flickered in his eyes and a slight smirk crept his lips at your mention of him being the boss.

His gears were turning and you knew him well enough to know the battle going on inside his brain. He probably didn’t love the idea of moving a meeting to go see his mum, but since it was technically your idea it was like a free pass. He could feel less guilty about it because he was doing it for you.

(Obviously you both knew this was entirely for him… But you needn’t say it)

You thought he might pass on the opportunity, and were startled when he removed his hand from yours and scrambled up from his lounge chair. He quickly moved onto your chair, straddling you with his entire body weight pinning you down. With his forearms rested on either side of your head, he placed quick kisses all over your face. Almost reflexively, you wrapped your hands around his biceps. His hot, sinewy arms flexed in your grip.

“Yeah,” is all he said before placing a long, slightly wet, kiss on your forehead. “I AM the boss. And I would like that very much. Thank you for suggesting it.” Unable to wipe the smile from his face, he placed one more tender kiss on your lips.

You reached for the sunglasses that sat atop his head and removed them, freeing space for you to run your fingers through his soft brown curls. “You’re welcome, H.” He lowered into your touch, eager for a cuddle. “But you have to get up. You’re squishing me.”

“Right, sorry.” He removed himself from on top of you and took a seat by your feet at the end of the chair. It was his turn to soothe you now, grazing his palm along your calf and up to your knee, which he gave a squeeze before dragging his hand back down.

“I think it’s time we get out of the sun, yeah?” The sly look on his face was all too familiar as his gaze trailed down your bikini-clad body. “You’re lookin’ a little sunburnt.”

“Am I?” You teased.

“I’ve got something I can rub on it back in our room.”

You rolled your eyes at him, feigning annoyance at his flirtation. Nonetheless, you knew where this was headed.

Gathering your belongings hastily, you were both eager to make your way back to the air conditioned room that held your luxurious king bed. You trailed behind Harry, climbing the stone steps up to the private entrance of your villa hand in hand.

Once inside your room, you dropped your tote bag and walked over to the balcony, sliding open the curtains and the door to let the sunshine and salt air filter through the room. Looking out at the scene below, you could see the private beach where you and Harry had spent your morning and admired the way the Tuscan sun illuminated the sapphire blue ocean ahead. You took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly as you felt Harry come to stand closely behind you.

“Thank you for bringing me here.” You said quietly. Harry wrapped his arms around you from behind, allowing you to rest your chin on his forearms. He nuzzled his face into your neck where he left a delicate touch of his lips.

“Thank you for being here with me.” He responded.

Any annoyance you previously felt toward your boyfriend’s proclivity for FOMO melted away when you realized how grateful you were to be here with him. In the chaos of his busy life, while he missed his family deeply, he chose to be here with you, together in paradise.

You turned yourself in his arms, your body flush against his, to find his soft, yet intense, gaze on your lips.

Harry held lightly onto your hips. Leaning in, his lips parted, and you could feel his warm breath against yours. You placed your hands on his chest, his skin burning under your fingers. With every shallow intake of breath he edged closer, until finally catching your top lip between his.

His hands trailed up your sides as your kiss became deeper, fuller. You felt like you might melt against him, heat racing down to every part of your body that was touching his. He roamed your curves and the expanse of your back, pressing you even closer to him, before finding the strings that held together your bikini. With two gentle tugs, the piece of fabric fell to the ground.

He broke away from your kiss only briefly to study the sight of you, topless, in front of him. “Bellissima,” he whispered, his voice deep and slow. You saw the muscles in his jaw tick as his gaze burned holes through you. It was your turn, this time, to grab onto him and press him closer against you, feeling his hardness.

It wasn’t long before Harry’s mouth started to move down your body. Your neck, your collarbone, your chest. His tongue dragged over your nipple before sucking it into his mouth and an intoxicating heat rippled through you.

“Bed, please” was all you could muster under your breath. Harry reluctantly pulled himself off you and started walking you back, stopping when the back of your legs hit the bed. He gently lowered you onto the bed and resumed his work dragging his mouth down your body, finishing off with a chaste kiss to your hip bone.

He stood up straight at the edge of the bed, towering over you. Eager for him, you removed your bikini bottoms and tossed them to the floor.

“A bit impatient?” He chuckled, looking down hungrily at your naked body. You didn’t bother to respond, leaning back on your forearms, you kicked your leg out and toed at the tent in his black swimming shorts, encouraging him to take them off. “Tell me” he said sternly.

“I want them off.”

He pulled his shorts down and discarded them on the floor before climbing on to the bed. You admired the way he wrapped his hand around his cock and began slowly stroking himself, a small sense of relief evident on his face. He lowered himself over you and pressed his lips to yours. While your tongues met, the pads of his fingertips began to explore, trailing delicately down your stomach. Your body responded to his familiar touch, goosebumps racing over you and a fire simmering in your belly.

You were desperate for him, your body begging for him to touch you as his fingers made their way down to your heat. A heavy moan left your lips when he began running circles over your clit. At that moment, you were completely overwhelmed by him. The way his lips felt against yours, the taste of his tongue, the scent of his cologne, the soft pads of his fingers on your most sensitive spot.

“I want you,” you whined.

“You have me,” he answered teasingly, his mouth only a fraction of an inch away from yours. He dragged his finger down and dipped into your entrance. “Fuck - you’re so wet.”

“Please…”

At your begging he positioned himself between your legs, removed his fingers, and replaced them with a press of his hips against yours, the tip of his cock firm against your slit.

Your hands grappled to hold on to any part of him you could, eventually landing on his shoulders. Gripping tightly, your fingertips dug into his skin. You wrapped your ankles around his calves and felt the way his body fit perfectly against yours.

The first thrust inside you was slow. Every inch of your body pulled tight around him as he sank deeper. Your breath hitched as a wave of pleasure raced through you.

“Fuck,” Harry rasped as he rocked into you. The sound of his voice sent a tingle down your spine. “I love you so much,” he whispered into your skin, brushing a kiss across your jaw.

You said it back to him as the two of you moved against each other, getting lost in the feelings of love and undulating pleasure between you.

———

You and Harry spent the rest of the day immersed in one another in your private villa.

The last go around, you unraveled together with his face buried in your neck while you were clutched tight around him.

He pulled out and collapsed beside you, trying to catch his breath.

You turned on your side to look at him, flooded with warmth and giddiness as you acknowledged how handsome he was. You used the tip of your finger to trace the lines of his face. The sharp cut of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the full of his lips. As you were about to trace your thumb over his eyebrow he grabbed your hand, bringing it to his lips.

“Thank you again for suggesting we go to Holmes Chapel after this,” he said against your hand, still pressed to his lips.

“Of course,” You moved closer to him and he let go of your hand in order to wrap his arms around you. “You can go home whenever you want, you know.”

He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. “I know. It’s easier to go when I know you’re coming with me.”

You hummed in understanding and pressed your lips against his chest.

“I should give Jeffrey a call and ask him to make the travel arrangements for us… And postpone my meetings.”

As if on cue, his phone’s ringtone chimed from his tote bag on the floor by the door. He was reluctant to let go of you, but you gave him a look of approval that had him scrambling out of the bed to retrieve it. You took the opportunity to admire his naked body, silently thanking the Italian sun and his morning cardio routine for the glorious sight of him.

You felt a warmth in your chest, though, at the smile that grew on his face when he looked down at his phone to see who was calling.

“Hey mum, yeah….guess what…I’m coming home.”

———

Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think.

#harryonbroadwayficchallenge #my writing #harry concepts #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction

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