More HFTH doods :D most of this page was done on an Airplane so. Like. Pardon the messiness :)

December

I sat with my mouth slightly dropped. Maybe I licked my lips once or twice, I don’t know, but it’s very likely. Harry and Zayn were both stood topless in the kitchen. I mean, I didn’t mean to ogle, but it was bloody hard not to. Even Ringo had made a surprise appearance, and she was exactly the same. Zayn was a little weedy, but I could see from the look in Ringo’s eyes that was exactly her type. Me personally, it was Harry who had my attention.

I still hated him. It was the 19th of December, which meant he had moved into our flat just over a month ago, and we still weren’t on good terms. I was thankful that neither of us had ever mentioned the night where I found my head on his shoulder, his cheek against mine, our breathing in sync as he helped me throw up. It had been a strange moment that we shared, and one I was glad we didn’t really acknowledge. There had been a few more nights out, a few more arguments, and our situation hadn’t improved. However, ignoring all of that, his body was absolutely lovely. I would never understand that tattoo, that bloody moth or whatever it was. I tried to blank it out and stare at the pure bliss of his abs. They were something else. I knew Harry went running a lot, he would get up early in the morning and run around campus, but I couldn’t explain or even begin to comprehend how he kept that figure up. Especially with the lifestyle we were all leading. I had been too fascinated trying to find out if I had just spotted a third nipple to notice that he had seen my staring. Which obviously, he loved. “You enjoying yourself, Pip-Squeak?” “Hm?” I mumbled, darting my eyes up to his. “You just… taking it all in, yeah?” He smirked. “Your tattoo is the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.” I tried to cover my tracks. “Is it a moth?” “It’s a butterfly.” “Does it have sentimental meaning or do you just like giant, horrible tattoos?” I shrugged. “I like anything that makes a girl stare at my body like that.” He raised his brows playfully. I scoffed, returning my gaze to the TV on the wall. I was so looking forward to the upcoming two weeks I’d be spending at home. With Christmas only a few days away, I had begun missing my family more than you can imagine. I hadn’t gone home once, which I wasn’t expecting, being such a home orientated person. But I guess with it being that way, I just got more excited that I would eventually be home with them. Of course I was sad Liam wouldn’t be there with us, but we had promised to skype him throughout the Christmas meal, and that was better than nothing. I was even excited about the train journey to get home. I needed it all. The thought of two blissful weeks without Harry Styles made me want to cry with happiness. My phone pinged and as did my stomach, knowing it would be Louis. Louis: I might be slightly gutted I won’t get to kiss you on NYE. Many kisses had been exchanged between myself and Louis, but still, nothing more than that. I always asked, I always hinted. I was getting desperate for a shag, but he was so hesitant. I wondered if he looked at it how I should be doing. Thinking of taking it slowly and maybe we could get somewhere, rather than rushing it. I tried not to be completely paranoid about the whole thing, but I was not doing a good job. Me: I might feel a similar way. Louis: I’ll kiss you when we’re back. All over. Me: All over? Louis: All over. I felt my stomach churning, and it really felt like my day. He was finally kind of, secretly saying, it’s going to happen. In the new year, it’s going to happen. Finally, I would be able to feel his lips somewhere other than my lips, and neck, and ears, and every other place he had let those dainty things wander to. I sunk further into the chair, no idea what to reply to him, my stomach in absolute tatters. Ringo scurried back into her room, making sure to get one more eyeful of Zayn before she rushed off. I was still relatively breathless when Zayn came and sat next to me. “Louis?” “Yeah.” I sighed. “You shagged him yet?” “No.” “You dying?” “Yeah.” “Thought so.” He nodded. I was going to miss Zayn over the break. Two weeks isn’t really a long time, but when you live with someone it definitely feels like it. Zayn had been just across the hall from me for three months now. The thought of not having that did make me feel slightly uncomfortable. “Next year.” I told him. “It’s on.” “Yeah?” He chuckled. I tried to ignore Harry as he scooted and slumped down on the sofa next to me, some kind of pasta dish in a giant bowl, which he quickly started munching into, eyes on the tele, no interest in myself and Louis. “Definitely. In January I’m getting some.” “I’m trying to eat here.” Harry groaned beside me. “Yeah well on more than one occasion, I’ve been trying to sleep when you’ve had a girl in your room, so I’m sure you can deal with this dinner conversation.” He couldn’t argue with that. There had been Tally within his first week and two others since. Maybe that was the same girl but there had been two other occasions. I couldn’t help but think about how awful Tally felt on the other side of him. She must have been able to hear those noises as clearly as I could. Poor girl. The microwave pinged eventually and I dashed over to get my meal, excited that this was the last microwaveable meal I would be having for the next fortnight. Being home and eating properly was going to be a beautiful thing. I noticed Harry shuffle even further into the corner of the sofa as I went and reclaimed my spot in the middle, trying not to spill any gravy from my bangers and mash dish. “I’m gunna miss this.” Zayn sighed. “Living like a slob?” Harry asked. “Yeah, pretty much.” “Same.” Harry agreed. “Gunna miss me, Styles?” I asked with a grin. “More than I can explain, Pip-Squeak. My heart aches at the thought that you won’t be around pissing me off.” “I figured that would be the case.” “Do you two ever shut up?” Zayn groaned. We did try to keep it as low-key as possible when Zayn was around. Neither of us necessarily enjoyed putting him in the middle, because one of the only similarities we shared was our mutual love for Mr Malik. Mike exited his room with a massive rucksack on, cheering merrily to himself, making Harry and Zayn laugh, whereas I turned up the volume on the TV. “Guess who’s going home for Christmas?” He bellowed, and then pointed to himself. “This guy! This twat right here.” I had to let out a little chuckle at that, seeing Mike do a little dance round the kitchen. The thing on his back suggested he was going camping for a week, the dance he was doing definitely suggested he was going to a festival. All in all, he looked brilliant, possibly even taller than I had previously thought. “Don’t you have a lecture tomorrow?” I asked him, aware of his schedule by that stage. “Yeah, but they called it off, so this twat, is going home a day early.” “Why do you keep calling yourself this twat?” “Because this twat, is in the best mood ever.” He told me. He did a couple more spins in the middle of the kitchen floor, pointing and cha-ing whenever it felt good to him, and we all watched with little smiles on our faces, tucking into our meals. Everyone was feeling pretty similar, to be honest. The only one of us who had gone home during the three months had been Tally. It was proof we liked it at uni, a lot, but it didn’t mean we all weren’t ready for some time at home. “Y’know what, Mike?” I said, shovelling some food into my mouth and smiling up to him. “I’m actually going to miss you.” “I… I mean, of course you are. Why-why do you sound so surprised by this?” He asked, offended. Harry let out a little sniffle beside me, laughing and shaking his head. Mike could be the most annoying person in the flat, which was saying something, but I would miss him even more thanks to that. He was too lovable. He shuffled off into the hall and started banging furiously on Tally’s door. “C’MON, TALLY-WHACKER, TIME TO GO!” Harry spat out some of his pasta, his laughter coming from his mouth and nose and even his fucking ears and literally any single way it could get out of his body, it did. I turned with an alarmed look on my face to see him, in absolute pieces. “Tally-Whacker.” He shook eventually. “That’s fucking genius. Why didn’t I think of that?” “You save your shitty nicknames for me.” I scoffed. “You know Tally-Whacker is worse than Pip-Squeak.” He turned to me. “You probably like it so much just because Tally has seen your Tally-Whacker.” “When was the last time you saw a Tally-Whacker, Pip-Squeak?” He bit back. “WILL YOU TWO JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP?” Mike yelled from the hall. “TALLY, COME ON! MY MUMS GUNNA BE OUTSIDE IN TWO MINUTES!” ”OKAY OKAY, I’M COMING.” We heard her mumble from her room. Harry threw down his empty bowl and crossed his arms, huffing loudly, nudging me with his shoulder as he did. I was glad Mike had interrupted when he did, because I could not think of a good come-back to what he had just thrown in my face. It had been a long time. A few minutes later, Tally came out of her room, dragging a giant pink suitcase behind herself and then locking her door, double and triple checking to make sure it was definitely locked, knowing me, Zayn and Harry were here for one more night. Who knew about Ringo. But if she left it open, we were bound to do something ridiculous for her to return home to in January. “You getting a lift?” Zayn asked her, forcing her to come into the kitchen and speak with us, even though she avoided Harry ten times more than I ever had. “Yeah. Mike’s mum was nice enough to say she would drop me off on the way.” If I remembered correctly, Mike was another half an hour’s journey or so in the car past the town where Tally’s family were. Then, in that exact moment, I had a sinking feeling; like a really sinking feeling, thinking about locations, adding things up in my head. And I swear, Harry had the same thing. He dramatically turned his head my way and I did the same to him, our eyes wide and our fears quickly being realised. “What train are you booked on tomorrow?” He asked breathlessly. “Seven to Manchester Piccadilly.” I answered. “Shit.” He cursed. + + + I swear I could feel Harry’s eyes on my face from across the table on the train, but then the second I looked up, his nose was back down in his book. So that’s where I returned mine, realising I must have read the same page at least three times, but it still hadn’t really been processed. Myself and Harry had had another run in in the communal showers the night before, and just discussed that we would sit away from each other on the train. Easy. But he had been running late, unlike myself, I had arrived in plenty of time. So when I saw Harry dash into our carriage, my stomach sunk, knowing that the seat directly across from me was the only one still free. I scowled at him with beady eyes, then once again, went back to my book, my eyes flickering between the words and him, seeing him hesitantly lift his head to look at me. That time, I had him. I bolted my head up so quickly he knew I had seen him drop his back down. He crinkled his nose, pretending to read as I stared him out, wondering if he would ever lift his head and tell me what the fuck he was staring at. I kicked him under the table. “Oww!” He cried, facing forward. “What?” I shuddered. “What?” He asked back. “Stop staring at me!” “I’m not fucking staring at you! Get over yourself.” I could see the lady next to Harry glancing between us, confused by the foundations of our relationship or if we were just two strangers on the train. Either way, the whole thing was stupid. We fell back into silence, the train bulking underneath us every other second, and I couldn’t help myself. I placed the book down, rubbing over my face with the back of my hand in case there was something on my skin, if that was why he had been staring at me. He chuckled under his breath. “What?” I shot again, through gritted teeth. “Nothing.” He shrugged. “Would you just give it up, Harry? I’m bored of it now, aren’t you?” “Honestly, Pip-Squeak, most of the time I get it, but I have no idea why you’re kicking off this time.” “You were staring!” I was almost squealing by this stage. “Why the hell would I be staring at you?” “I don’t know, you should probably have the answer to that since you were the one staring!” He pretended to strangle me from the other side of the table, shaking his floppy hair and returning to his book. I looked out of the window, wishing I had the window seat, since the guy next to me had fallen asleep and was not making the most of his seat at all. He looked like a student too, it seemed those three months had completely worn him out. I noticed scratches on his arms, worried his glasses were about to fall of the end of his nose and crack on the table or the floor, debating whether I should just push them back up a little, just to be safe. My fingers played with air thanks to the temptation, before I picked my book back up and ignored the urge. I don’t think Harry looked up to me again. If he had, I didn’t see, but I had finally been able to read my book, after many failed attempts. My heart fluttered with appreciation as I noticed we were pulling into the station, grateful to be so close to home, grateful to finally be escaping Harry. It also made me laugh that I knew he was another train journey away from his destination, whether it was a short one or not. It definitely made me feel a little better. Harry moved and put his book into the bag he had brought with him, which I figured looked relatively small for two weeks, but he did really only ever wear the same pair of jeans and a select few t-shirts. He looked across to me, seeing I was looking at him already. “Who’s staring now?” He smirked. “Piss off.” Once we had come to a complete standstill, the carriage unloaded itself. My suitcase mimicked the sound of the train as we walked side by side through the station. We trailed to the end of the line, and for some reason I stopped by Harry’s side as he looked up to the boards, and we both notices pretty quickly that his train was delayed. “Fuck.” He muttered under his heavy breath. It was busy in the station, people coming in from all over the country, others moving out, places to go, people and family to see. It was almost impossible to feel the way Harry did about families during such a season. I wondered where his head was on the matter at that point. I wondered what he was going home to, if he wanted to go home at all. He hunched his bag further on his shoulder, and even though we were practically indoors, the cold air reaching from the far end of the station made his breath appear in a thick cloud. “Gutted.” I mumbled up to the board. “Hope you’re not stuck here for hours. And hours. And more hours.” He looked down to me with one of his least amused faces yet as I tried to hold back my smile, my nose twitching as I attempted not to laugh at my own genius sarcasm. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” He groaned. “Yes, actually. I’ll be spending Christmas with my beautiful family. Should be home in... tops half an hour.” I grinned. “Then fuck off and go.” He sighed. The way he was reacting to my jokes, it didn’t seem like Harry would be going home to a mess of a family. He so wanted to get back. I knew having a train delayed going anywhere was frustrating, but nothing seemed to suggest he would be going back to hell. I grabbed hold of the handle to my case again, smiling smugly to myself. “Will do.” “Try to enjoy it without your brother.” I wanted to slap him for that comment, but in all honesty, I probably deserved it; I hadn’t been laying off him at all. But I still scowled and gave him the middle finger before I began storming off again, just about to make way through the glass doors when he called for me. “Pip-Squeak?” He yelled, necessarily loud. I turned around, waiting for him to say something. He awkwardly tucked his hands into the pocket of his giant coat, looking around himself as though asking why the hell he had just called my name, why the hell he had asked for my attention. Time dragged on, and I was mere seconds away from turning back around and clambering into the first taxi I saw outside, ready to get away from him. “Merry Christmas.” He simply said. I squinted my vision, staring blankly to him. He looked down to the floor as soon as he had said it, clearing his throat. It was so out of his nature, even just to say that, I could see his whole body rejecting the well wishes. It was totally surreal. “Merry Christmas.” I said back. Then I quickly turned around and dragged my case behind me, a weird lump in my throat, like I was going to cry. I held it back. + + + My mother screamed so loud when she flung the door open and saw my face, honestly, I almost fell backwards. My suitcase was left abandoned outside as she pulled me into her, still screaming, my face in her plump breasts, barely able to bloody breathe. I put my arms back around her for the first time in over three months, happy to be home. I lifted my head from its titty prison and glanced over her shoulder, seeing how inviting and warm my family home looked. It was an old building but had been made to look pretty modern on the inside, old wooden pillars leading to the ceiling that had been painted white, the hall long and thin with the stairs on the right-hand side. Thanks to the fact it was Christmas my mother had decided to just make the whole building a fire hazard by littering fairy-lights absolutely everywhere. But at least it looked nice. I had to drag myself away from her after the hug had gone on for far too long. “Oh god.” She grabbed at my cheeks. “Look at you, look how you’ve grown.” “I look exactly the same.” “No, no. You look like a woman. It’s like you getting your first period all over again.” ”Jesus Christ, mum!” “Come on now, Pippa, it’s Christmas. No blasphemy now.” “Yeah because we’re really religious.” She ushered me in and shut the door behind us, the cold air only lingering for a moment or two before an unfamiliar warmth wrapped around me. We always put the heating on at uni since our bills were covered in the price we paid to live there, but it never got that warm, it never felt that homely and comfortable. “PHILLIP!” My mum shrieked up the stairs, making me cringe. “PHILLIP YOUR DAUGHTER IS HOME, COME AND SAY HELLO.” “I’M JUST SENDING OUR DAVID ONE OF THESE EMAILS!” We heard him yell back down. “YOU HAVEN’T SEEN YOUR DAUGHTER FOR THREE MONTHS, PHILLIP! GET YOUR ARSE DOWNSTAIRS!” “I’M JUST TRYING TO FIGURE IT OUT, LOVE. GIVE US A MINUTE.” My dad was as behind on the technology front as my grandparents were. Probably even further, actually. He owned a company that fixed cars in the centre of town, a pretty small business but it had helped my mum and dad live a very comfortable life, alongside my mum being a dentist. They had more than a comfortable living, to be honest. But thanks to my dad’s every-man job, he had never needed to learn what he was doing online, and he was trying his best to catch up with the rest of the world. But it seemed even sending an email was a task. I wandered blissfully into the living room on the left side of the hall as my mum bobbed off to the end into the kitchen, flicking the kettle on and then joining me. We flopped onto the sofa together. “So how’s it been?” She asked excitedly. “Yeah it’s alright. The lifestyle is great. The lessons are alright.” “Urgh. You sound just like your brother.” “I’m happy with that.” I giggled, flicking through channels. “I thought you might be.” She grabbed the remote from me, sticking with one channel. “Have you spoke to him?” “Briefly. A few texts. He rang me last month too, that was nice.” I could see her welling up, just talking about him. He’d been gone a long time; I hadn’t seen him since I was 13 years old. I knew my mum and dad had gone to see him at uni a few times, but I never did. Even so, we managed all those Christmas’ without him, we did birthdays without him, that was just how things were. Of course, he was easier to talk to and be in touch with before he went traveling, but it wasn’t a complete shock to the system. But my mum still got emotional about it, she still held in tears every single time he was brought up. Maybe it was getting even worse for her. I missed Liam, but I guess I was used to it. I think it was getting harder for her, rather than becoming accustom to it, she started thinking about how long it genuinely had been since he left. She probably wondered why he never came back. I felt for her, I really did. I let my fingers slot between hers, giving her a little smile as she pulled herself together, and my dad walked into the living room. “Kettles boiled.” He told her, opening his arms for me as I leapt to my feet and embraced him. “Oh, my love, how’ve you been?” “Really good, yeah.” I pulled away. “And you?” “Aye not too bad. Hows uni?” “Yeah it’s good. It’s fun.” “The living situation?” He asked. “Mixed emotions.” I huffed, flopping back down as he moved into the armchair, and my mum went to make the tea. “Grace moved out, as you know, which was awful. But they’ve replaced her with this guy... and we really don’t get on.” “Why not?” He asked. “We just... wind each other up. We’re just not alike. Always at each other’s throats. Sometimes we let it be kind of playful just so we can get our frustration out, but then other times we’re literally so fucking angry with each other. He’s awful dad. He randomly punched some guy on a night out and I think he’d fuck anything with legs. Just not my kind of person. But all my mates get on with him, and obviously I live with him, so I have to deal with it. All the time.” “He sounds like a pillock.” My dad nodded. “You’re not bloody wrong, Phil.” My mum came back with our teas a few moments later and we all settled into a quiet evening in front of the TV. It felt like such a relief, being able to openly talk about how much Harry annoyed me with someone who didn’t like him or live with him or anything. It was a nice feeling, no matter how brief. So I told myself that would be it. I wouldn’t have to even think about Harry until next year. Now that, was a beautiful feeling. + + + I watched my grandad with a chuckle threatening to escape me, as his head kept going, his eyes closing themselves. He had farted himself awake about a minute earlier, so I was still kind of laughing about that, but watching his sleepy little head keep going like a baby or a puppy was just as amusing. Suddenly he went, chin down on his chest and snoring straight away, to which my grandma cringed and tutted and scowled in his direction, always like she was angry at him. Years and years of marriage had done that to them, but they still loved each other really. “What film are they showing this year?” The frail lady asked as she rose to her feet, collecting all our plates. I was still looking at my grandad and trying to contain myself. This had happened for the last few years. He had reached the age where as soon as a meal was done, so was he. It was his bedtime. I found it hard to recall years where my grandad hadn’t fallen asleep at the dinner table on Christmas Day. “E.T. I think.” My mum stood to help her. “It’s always bloody E.T.” My grandma scowled. I figured she was quite an angry lady, but that was her charm. She was still drinking vodka, like she did most nights, I had never once seen her nail-varnish chipped, her short hair was always in perfect ringlets down to her shoulders, her figure even better than mine. She was a pretty mesmerizing woman. Perfectly on cue with our conversation, which made me feel like it was fate, Louis text me. Louis: E.T. is on bbc in half an hour. I’m going to be crying like a baby. I liked that he remembered our first interaction, when he admitted to always crying at that film. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling something stronger than bog-standard attraction at that point. Me: The Secret Garden was on earlier. I’ve already done my crying for the day. Louis: I avoided that one like the bloody plague, I can only hack crying once a day otherwise I worry my masculinity will leave and never come back. “Pippa, who’re you texting?” My mum asked nosily. “No one.” “Is it a boy?” She asked, to which I rolled my eyes. “They’ll stay in the back of your head if you keep doing that, Pippa. I’ve always warned you.” “Yeah, but now I’m not ten years old I don’t believe you. Unlike the time you made me cry because I was so convinced.” “But then you didn’t roll your eyes until you turned into a grotty little teenager. I had three years of absolute bliss where you didn’t roll your eyes once.” She smiled, beginning to clear the table. My grandad mumbled some non-coherent bullshit as he came back to life for a split second, probably speaking a section of his dream before he was straight back down, snoring again. I could virtually see my grandma strangling him in her head. “So who is he?” My mum asked after a few minutes of silence. “Are we really doing this?” I groaned. “Yes.” My mother and grandmother chimed in time. “Fine. He’s called Louis.” “From university?” “Yup.” “What’s he studying?” My grandma asked. “Art.” They both made disapproving noises as they collected plates and took them over to the sink, which just made me sigh and roll my eyes yet again, glad my mum wasn’t looking to catch me the second time. I expected nothing less from a family who had made sure I went to university to study English rather than Photography, a family who had been disapproving enough when I studied Photography at college. They’d rather I was meeting a boy who studied something apparently ‘sensible’ like Maths or Science or anything like that. “Everyone in my flat does subjects to do with the arts.” I shrugged. “You’re joking?” She seemed appalled. “What do they do?” “Zayn does Art. Mike and Tally do Drama. Ringo does Music and Harry does Photography.” “I just can’t believe those are actually subjects you can study at university.” My grandma shook her head in disbelief. I understood it a little more from her. She was old… Old as fuck. Her generation were beyond the point of catching up. It’s only really people my grandmas age who could get away with being completely narrow-minded. You’d just kind of have to shrug it off, say ‘oh you’ and forget whatever bullshit just slipped from an elderly persons mouth. But my mum being so baffled by those subjects was weird for me. When she had bought me my first camera, I thought it might have been her aim for me to develop a passion rather than take pictures of mindless bullshit and me and my mates on a night out. It turned out she would rather see pictures of me in a drunken state than seeing anything I had put a little effort into. Thanks to that, it was a rare occasion I would pick up a camera other than my phone. It felt too disheartening. I kept my head down and locked my phone, feeling discouraged. Christmas Day was actually always pretty boring, I wished I still had my brother around to make me laugh. My dad strolled into the kitchen and grabbed my mum by her waist, making her squeal and giggle as he turned her around and held her back to his front, kissing her cheek as my grandma left the room tutting at them and their public display of affection. Usually I would be the same, but due to recent conversations about family, it was kind of nice seeing them being that way with one another. They gave me hope. I stood up and began collecting glasses, putting them into the sink, ready to sit down to watch E.T. and probably text and think about Louis throughout. + + + The Christmas season had taken its toll on me. I don’t even remember being sober for any part of it, to be honest, and New Year’s Eve was bound to be no different. We were round at Sophia’s, because her house was huge and her parents were a little surreal, they had no qualms in her having as many people round at their family home as she wanted. So due to the surreal amount of friends Sophia had, the place was jammed. The 24 hour clock on the wall said it was 23:23 which meant we were very close to entering the next year, which basically terrified me because of the thought of going into the second year of uni, getting older, another year on the list without my brother. It honestly terrified me. On the 1st, I would be fine, wouldn’t even think about it, but the lead up to the actual event was a completely different story. Like an impending doom kind of feeling. “You kissing anyone?” Katie asked me. “Am I fuck.” I huffed. I think the main thing was I didn’t even want to kiss anyone if it wasn’t going to be Louis. Not that there would be anything wrong with it, there was definitely nothing official between me and him, but I didn’t like the thought of kissing anyone else. I liked kissing him. Katie was fine for the whole kissing moment, since she had been going out with Gregg since the first year of college. The worst part of it all was I kind of hated that I didn’t have anyone to kiss. I should have never felt that way, but I definitely did. “There are so many guys here though.” She cried to me. “Yeah well, you’ve not seen Louis.” I sighed wistfully. “Okay, well show me.” I got my phone out of my pocket and scrolled through my camera album in the hope I had a picture of his beautiful face somewhere, since the lad refused to get a Facebook like a normal person. Luckily, I stumbled across one, and even more luckily, he looked as good in the picture as he did in real life. My face went painfully smug as I held my phone in front of her eyes and let her look at him. “Yes.” She nodded. “Yes. He will do nicely.” “I know.” “Shag him. Shag his brains out.” “I plan to.” En route to dragging my phone back into my pocket it started buzzing in my hand, knowing it would be Zayn since he promised to ring, but still pretty excited to see his name and a little picture of us in Thimble to accompany it. I began pushing through the crowd in the hope I would make it outside quickly to answer the call, but the amount of people in there made me realise pretty quickly that if I left it that long I would miss the call completely. I swiped my thumb across the screen and yelled. “GIVE ME A MINUTE!” “Jesus, Pippa, where the hell are you?” I heard him giggle. “GIVE ME ONE MINUTE.” I held my phone up in the air as I pushed and shoved until I was out in the cold. It wasn’t really quiet, you could still hear the music blaring from inside and all the smokers had congregated there for the evening, but it was loads better. Even so, I pushed my finger into my spare ear and held my phone up against the other. “Okay, I’m here.” I smiled. “Good. Finally. You alright? Sound sober.” He grimaced. “As a judge.” “Why?” “I tend to hit my peak in the beginning shreds of January rather than the last of December. Happens every year. Literally, I’ll be fine and then at about one-minute past twelve, I’ll be on the floor. It’s a beautiful thing. Can’t explain it.” I already missed him, so even his voice was a kind sound to my ears. I guess over that Christmas break we both realised how close we had gotten in our time together. Yeah, it was nice being at home with the people I had been to college with, my best friends from home, but none of them were like Zayn. “I’m sober as all hell too.” He replied. “How come?” I pressed my back against the bare brick. “Me and Harry have agreed to drop something as soon as it hits midnight, though by the looks of things he’s found some lass to kiss.” “Wait, you’re with Harry?” I swear my stomach dropped. I hated myself for it straight away, how pathetic it was to get jealous of a friendship. But I hated Harry and I loved Zayn and the thought that they were now pally enough to spend their New Years together didn’t sit well with me. “Yeah. We were talking and he said he didn’t have any plans so I invited him to spend it with me.” “Oh. Cool.” “You’re the worst liar of all time, Pip.” “When did I lie?” I huffed. “Well maybe it wasn’t quite a lie but you definitely don’t think it’s cool that Harry’s here.” He laughed. My eyes were right in the back of my head but I couldn’t help but laugh a little, not too surprised he had figured me out so easily. “You having a good time though?” I choked. “Yeah, he’s a laugh.” “Then that’s good. It shouldn’t bother me.” “Honestly, Pip, I’m gunna speak to him too, but when we get back next year I think you should both just try that little bit harder-” “I’ve tried, Zayn!” I butt in rudely. “I know you have, Pip, but you could both try a little harder. He’s a good lad, we all know you’re the greatest woman of all time-” “Agreed.” “- so if you could just do that, for me, that would be the best thing ever. And you’ll feel ten times better for it. So?” “So what?” “Will you try?” He begged. He sounded so adorable. If he had been with me I probably would have punched his arm and yelled a little more, but it was hard to be mad when all I could hear was his silly little voice. “You have to speak to him too.” I sighed. “If he agrees to it, so will I.” “You promise?” I could hear him smile. “Only if-” I tried. “PROMISE, PIPPA?” “OKAY I PROMISE!” I heard him celebrate to himself on the other line, hearing the background noise to the party he was at as much as he could probably hear the background noise at mine. “You’re the best, Pippa.” He said eventually. “If it doesn’t work out this time than that’s okay, I’ll let you off. Just one more go and if you still hate each other, I’ll abandon him forever.” “I knew you’d pick me over him.” I smirked. Even though I knew he was joking, that wasn’t the case at all, I was happy because he knew that saying that would comfort me, thanks to how protective I was of our friendship. It was enough. “Obviously. Anyway, I’m gunna go. See if we’re doing this MD together or if Harry is going to be fucking this girl instead.” “Tell her he has an STI, that ought to put her off.” I grinned. “What did I tell you about making an effort?” He told me off like a naughty toddler. “You’re right. Go have fun. See you in a few days alright? Be safe tonight.” “Will be. Happy New Year’s, Pippa.” “You too, Zayn, bye. Bye. Bye.” I often found it hard to hang up the phone without saying bye at least two times. This was something I seemed to inherit from my mother. I strolled back inside with a lazy smile on my face, kind of hoping that the month of January would be the month that mine and Harry’s friendship flourished. But that was just for Zayn, no other reason.