#ophelia syndrome is a really fucking good band and they get like
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Going insane I'm trying to put more songs on my iPod and a band I really like only has their music on Spotify I can't rip their music from YOUTUBE OH MY GOD
#ophelia syndrome is a really fucking good band and they get like#no attention. CHECK THEM OUT NOW!!!#especially passing time and the 6/8 song
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Hi loveys- I’m too tired to say much, traffic made a 2.5 hour drive over 4 hours. So, I’m sleeping! Thanks @emulateharry for the read!
Hinode-Chapter 8!
"You can't just drop a story like that and not preface it with, 'this one time I was at Mick Jagger's baby shower.'" Ada's face was open as morning windows on the first sunny day after rough weather. Harry loved it. "I need a warning that your aged doppelgänger is the feature of the story." He watched her throat work over a sip of her first glass of the new bottle.
"Mick doesn't like it when you mention his age." He picked up his, second? third? Glass of wine and inclined it at her. "Bit of a Peter Pan syndrome." He leaned in close to the lips he hadn't had the pleasure of since 10 am, 15 hours, not that he was counting, and stage whispered so she could feel it, "but don't tell him that."
"Yeah, next time I'm hanging with old Mick I'll be sure to mention his boyband protege thinks he has Peter Pan syndrome!" She laughed and he could feel that and taste the Pinot Noir on her breath. Right, now, her love of red wine made sense. But he'd had her pegged for Sauvignon Blanc. Something refreshing and that went down easy. He supposed now though it made sense she drank something with much more body. "But I think Peter Pan Syndrome gets handed out with spandex pants to would be rockstars. Though you seem to have missed the all call."
"I don't wear spandex!" He gave her a face fit for Liam, could feel the offense in his sneer. Well, he did to box, but under baggy shorts.
"Yet!" She poked his big huge dimple. "And don't knock it, Bowie and Mercury wore spandex." She cocked her raven head. "But you don't seem to want a neverland zip code..." She left it open.
"What do you mean?" He had a feeling he knew, but felt reluctant to answer. He liked the flirty conversation they'd been having, rambling from her making fun of his grandad socks and him asking her worst LA traffic story to him sharing about how he just caught himself from pushing Mick into the cake at his baby shower. He wondered when his legs would stop feeling too long for his body. He had no trouble sharing embarrassing stories, but, he liked white wine conversation. He shouldn't have been too surprised she wanted to talk about something deeper. He maybe just wasn't ready. At least when he was the subject. He wouldn't mind a view of her depths.
"I mean, you seem, shockingly mature for a quarter century old. I know you started young, but Jagger wasn't much older, and he's certainly still trying to grow oats to sow. You could definitely still be running wild, and excused for it I bet. With the dimples and the rambly speeches....."
"Um," he looked around. He needed to get into this, if all those fields he felt when she touched him were ever gonna he real. Harry never went to college, but this felt like the conversations his friends would talk about, the all night ones where people got vulnerable. So, the words stacked up like lemmings ready to jump, the slow ramble of an explanation. He'd want reciprocity. He hoped that this was a foundation, not just an amazing experience he would remember long past their expiration date. Like those conversations often were, he was given to understand. He gathered his courage around him like a baggy coat; he'd done way scarier things than talked, really talked, to a woman he could love. Harry, admittedly, sucked at communication, sometimes conversation. He was gonna do it anyway. "God, this will sound pretentious as fuck, but like, my mum always said I was an old soul with a young spirit." He sighed and leaned back with his glass. "When the band started we had a smorgasbord of bad choices all of a sudden. Maybe not, like, bad choices, but like too much too soon. Liam said it was like college on steroids, and it was. Girls everywhere, offering everything- even if they didn't know what it meant. And um, not that alcohol was brand new to any of us, but the party drugs around were."
He looked down from the wallpaper in her room he'd been focusing on, they'd been lounging in her living area, and he was sorry he'd given her the couch. He wanted to lie down. She nodded at him with a sympathetic brow, and reached out for his hand. That was better.
"There were some nights I woke up and really didn't know how I got back to my room. I think those stories were really funny for some of the other boys, but I hated the like, lack of control. The things people said I said." He shook his head and she squeezed his hand. "I love attention."
"No! You! An international pop star? Love attention?" He smiled gratefully at her attempt to lighten his heavy mood. He wasn't aware this bothered him so much anymore. He'd changed his life so much since then, because of then. "Well," he smiled back at her like a chevalier, "drunk 17 year old Harry really liked attention, and drunk 18 year old Harry really liked girls."
"Do you still like girls?" She fluttered her eyelashes he wondered if it was entirely on purpose. He hoped some of it was unconscious, just her animal brain liking his smell.
"Yeah, I just like fewer of them, and not exclusively. Mostly, I like women." He felt his lashes touch his cheek for a breath and then his eyebrows a couple heartbeats later.
"Good!" She loosened her grip on his hand and used the looser grip to caress him fingertips to elbow. Green light. He could totally shift gears here and wind up on the couch with her, on top of her. Some of the lessons of the lost year stuck, were useful. Or he could tell her the really useful one. How it changed his life. "Round about, honestly," big breath, "those two years are kinda a blur. But I was really pissed at myself for fucking up a performance. Bitching to my mum in my dressing room. And she had this long suffering face, occasionally it obliterates her compassion face. I realized I'd seen that face more than I liked around that time. When we got to talk, even on FaceTime when she called one morning and caught sight of a girl leaving for example. So I, all exasperated like, threw my hands up like a toddler on a store floor and asked what, and she just said, "maybe it's not the song's fault, but how you're treating your instrument.'" He laid his head back and felt her playing with his thinner rings, smiled when she pulled it over his knuckle and then back. "You can take it off." He was already emotionally naked here, his bare fingers couldn't be to shocking. He kept talking while she took off the rose ring, a favorite still in his heavy rotation, and put it on her thumb. He liked that. "Like a bratty 18 year old used to getting his way a bit, I think I asked her what she was on about and went back to bitching. But, I kept hearing it, and the next time I was out late, partying, before we had a big performance, I paid attention. The high notes, they were always hard for me."
"Awful lot on your solo album then." There was a question there he would come back to.
"Yeah, I stopped drinking before shows, which was most nights then, and got a vocal coach. And the girls...."
"The girls."
"Well mum hadn't given me that talking to yet. So that kept up a little while longer."
"But not into your seventies?" She pulled his rings up one by one, and then laced their fingers so that the naked borders between their hand and digits could match up. Then slid her hand away. He wanted to be touching. So he shifted over, planted himself on the couch instead. It was a touch big for two, but ample.
"Barely into my twenties."
"Were you just born middle aged, do you think?" Ada teased. He chuckled a little bit. She was good at this, letting him talk and think slow, distracting him, giving him light comments to his thick words and touching him. Always the physical connection. It kept words flowing and him comfortable in vulnerable moments.
That had been working since day one on set. Ada had the magic touch. He wondered if that was just for him or others too? He wanted it to be his. Harry wasn't normally possessive he didn't think. But he did feel covetous of her attention and touch, her secrets.
Harry took off all his rings then, and layered them up on her hands and pulled them forward, kissed her knuckles. "Maybe not middle aged, but a little ahead of the curve maybe?"
"Is it cuz you had to take care of your mom, do you think?" She wasn't making eye contact on that question. Oh.
"She never asked me to take care of her."
He shook his head, she wouldn't like that, his mum. If he had grown up so fast because of her being alone. If it was cuz she unknowingly asked it of him. It wasn't exactly true. But it was a little, and maybe more for Ada.
"No, they don't have to ask."
"You just did?" Harry asked.
"She was just so." He squeezed the hands he still held. "Sad."
"Yeah, and lonely." He supplied.
"But I didn't let her be alone." Ada's eyes were a tiny bit slick. His might've been too.
"I never let her be alone, and I hope I never made her feel guilty for being lonely, with me there." Harry wondered about that. He had eavesdropped a conversation, just before his mum found Robin, about how guilty each date made her feel. He'd stopped pouting when she went out then. He hoped it made her more open when she met his step dad. A tiny contribution to their story.
"Oh, I know I made her feel bad. I remember screaming one time, in my angsty Ophelia stage- 'why do you care about him so much? I'm here!'" She shook her head.
"But, it's different." He said it as gently as possible.
"She deserved a partner, and I...."
"We're not supposed to be their partners, just their kids, babies, they feel guilty if we take too much emotional responsibility."
"And I was pissed at him, but when I did see him, I couldn't be a little bitch, or I was afraid I'd never see him again." She inclined her head.
"But she wasn't going away. So she got the brunt of your teenage angst." She was nodding, he supplying the hardest truths for her. She nodded back and her serious brow cracked his heart for her to crawl in a little deeper. They held hands a minute longer, and Ada sat back, so their shoulders touched, and they could only keep holding one hand.
"Were you an angst boy ever, locked away in an upstairs room, is that where the sad wanks started?" He could tell she missed their banter. Needed a fiver from the tough stuff. He did too, but he really liked knowing her better. It made the estrangement he had sensed she pursued from Garner make sense. Harry had found plenty of industry men who were astoundingly successful at what they did, but had a trail of broken relationships behind them. Harry didn't know Garner well enough to know that about him, and he intended to be around Ada long enough to know all of it. He expected he was going to give Garner the stink eye every time they were near each other and have trouble stopping form now on. He would let her change the subject though, so long as they kept talking.
"I don't think the wanks were sad in those days. Exuberant, maybe enthusiastic, those are better words." Her smile had started on exuberant and she was all out laughing at him though he was giggling away too by enthusiastic.
"I bet! I remember what you looked like at 16 and I can't imagine you crying and coming with that fluffy hair and those huge cheeks!"
"Hey! My cheeks weren't huge! They were normal sized." He wanted to pounce on her, show her a wank. But, he felt like they'd gone someplace she wasn't used to, maybe that was more uncomfortable to her than nudity, he didn't want her to bolt. He knew if it got physical as well, it may never happen again. Instinctively he knew, tonight would make them fragile in the short term, viable in the long term. If he went there, where part of him was desperate to go, on the heels off their disclosures, It would give her all the excuse she needed to keep it there. He'd never get below the surface again. So, he didn't tickle, or pick her up and drape her across himself, did nothing more than lace their fingers like a seam together. God knew he wanted to stitch other parts of him to her.
It just wasn't all he wanted.
She was pointing at him, so he caught her finger and bit the tip playfully. Her eyes widened and then her pupils flared. But before she leaned in and made the offer, one he couldn't refuse, he said "Since you like to be mean and make fun of people, let's see you at 16!"
"Um, no!" She shook her head. Her hair hitting her cheeks a foreign feeling so late at night, or early in the morning. If he wasn't here, her hair would be wrapped up already, but she was trying to be cute. Not scare the white boy. If he stayed, she'd have to re press it tomorrow and they were to travel all day. It would be worth it. But that last segue, and their companionable positions indicated that may not happen. Not yet. A compromising position would get her out of this uncomfortable one though.
Ada was disappointed by the change in directions, she finally thought they might get bare in a way more familiar for her. She'd much rather be in bed with him than talking about her dad, however obliquely. And showing him a picture of her in her very serious alt girl phase was not happening. Awkward very high ponytail, because her mom still wasn't exactly sure how to do her long hair, her hair at all. Ada has learned in college from the new friends she made how to manage her own hair.
She was alright in her teen years, same bone structure and features. But she took herself very seriously those days. Painfully earnest. It would be embarrassing. The clothes, all those ripped tights and midi skirts and flannels. She thought she may even have some vinyl with safety pins recorded for posterity. Yikes! Though she'd seen some very good facsimiles of her own teenage look when they were shooting in harajuku. It still made her cheeks burn. Could she?
"No way, unfair, I am sure you have seen some god awful pictures of me." He grabbed his phone and she was sad they were not touching anymore. It looked like she was not getting dick tonight. His moves were not getting laid ones. She'd be damned if she made the first move. Well, the first time. After that he better be careful when they were alone and away from set.
She was glad they'd tackled that subject first, when the wine was breathing. They were gonna be professional, and never alone. They had agreed to be realistic about their attraction level, so no face time without a chaperone, like an Austen film, or they both assumed they'd be sucking face. Tonight was almost confusing in its modesty. Only their conversation kept their clothes on. It had been awhile since she'd wanted somebody, longer since she'd been wanted. It was wonderful. Ada was gonna hold onto it. She was sure it would be wiped out if he saw a picture of her at 16.
And then he pulled a post on tumblr, of all fucking places, and showed her a smattering or horrible outfits ranging from ill fitting trainers and trousers to a Miley Cyrus costume.
"You make a credible Miley!" She didn't even pretend to not be laughing at him.
"I know! She even said so." He laughed and god, was it weird to want to put whipped cream in his dimples to suck out? Probably. She was gonna ask if she could whenever they broke the seal anyway. "That was when I fell in love with Tokyo. I decided that I wanted to wear the fleshy pants and they were all too easy to acquire."
"Yes, Japan has an underbelly."
"A sexy underbelly?" He pointed at his long pale torso.
"You are so white! God, I thought you liked fake tanner that year, you look paler than her in the picture."
"It's just the lighting." Oh, big lip. She pulled it. He was right, there were some gems on the internet of him. Why he ever, even at 14, wore that Caesar cut. A tragedy for his curls. She fluffed them to assure herself of their presence and that she could. He leaned into her hand and all Ada could think was why not.
"Hold on." She thought there was one Mia had tagged her in, though it killed her, because it was just so chock full of nostalgia. She was pretty sure she had it on Facebook. Way to show her age, lot even Instagram. It didn't take long, she was so inactive it was not far down her feed. But there she was in all her 15 year old glory. Her jeans were baggy and her top was cropped and her hair was high. They'd been at Magic Mountain she thought, those long days that felt like being grown up until you really were. Roaming a place without direct supervision. She'd insisted on her boots that day, though her mom had repeatedly said they weren't walking shoes. By dusk, she'd had to buy band aids.
The memories were crystal clear, and made her smile. She thought maybe she'd had her first kiss that night, some boy from the 213 she exchanged numbers with. Never spoke to again, not even via phone.
"You look at this, remember it's in solidarity with your bowl cut, and then forget it." She'd narrowed her eyes at him and he'd nodded fervently. Then bit his lip when he saw the picture. She assumed to stop the laugh from escaping.
"You are laughing at me!" She was laughing too. How horrified her younger self would be. Ada was very serious at that age, especially about herself.
"I'm not, I'm not. You're so cute!" They were both giggling away and Ada was trying to wrestle her phone back from him.
"Give me the phone, Styles!" She hopes the neighbors were deeply asleep and that the walls were thick in the hotel. "And remember your promise. You are immediately forgetting this."
"Nope, I'll never forget it. Not even if I tried." He was cackling, a wheezy laugh opened by a snort that made her laugh harder. Like those pre teen moments in her bedroom when a friend's snort set everybody rolling again. Their roving conversation and active flirt was everything, obliterated boundaries. So much so that she was straddling him trying to reach deep behind him where he had stashed her phone. She had both hands working now. It was when she felt the distinct crack of his muscular ass that she realized her phone wasnt in his shorts, but her fingers definitely were.
Her eyes came up to his and he still looked brimming with mirth, though his pupils were big and his smile was a smirk. He wiggled her phone with his right hand. "Looking for this? Or have you found your target?"he flashed his eyebrows at her.
Ada pulled her hands free, but left them on his shoulders and sat back on her haunches. Silencing that little voice that hoped his legs would bear her weight harshly. "Um," she wondered if the brightness that was her blush was as obvious to him as it was to her. "Sorry?"
"No worries. Any time you would like to stick your hands down my pants, let me know." She watched the indecision cross his mind. Ada might be getting her way with him. She was sure of it for a nanosecond, and found herself sad. That didn't seem the right way to end this night. Though she didn't know of a better sleep aid than orgasm.
Half of her wanted him to go for it, desperately, the other half, really hoped they had this night, that felt so much like a third date rather than a first, for itself. And the things they showed were their fears and not their body parts. Then his eyes settled and her heart slowed, beat in time with his.
"It's good we travel tomorrow, so I don't have such an early call time. It's late." Ada nodded, still perched on his lap, her hands full of his shoulders and her nostrils his leather and man scent.
"It is, you'd be able to carry a vacation's worth of things in your eye bags tomorrow. When we get to Kyushu, get a treatment on the production to fix that. You have to look your best!" He rolled his eyes at her gentle ribbing and put his hands on her hips. He pulled her into him, and they kissed for the first time all night. It was languid, and Ada felt the tension in her released and reintroduced like her desire was pulled taffy. Rolled over itself and then pulled taught.
He tasted like the wine and long nights rising to early morning, and she was going to lick in for a deeper taste, maybe get the cherries and blackberries the Pinot carried on the palate too, bright orchards in the sun too, when he sat back on the couch and looked at her.
"I want to stay." Ada started to talk, and he barely placed his long ringed index finger against her pouted lips. "But I think tonight was perfect as is."
Ada knew she was nodding. She agreed, despite herself.
"But next time," he caught her eye and the heat there singed her eyebrows, "you and I are in a room alone together so late at night, I'll be hard-" he emphasized the word with a tiny lift of his hips. "Pressed to find the gentleman within me." And he leaned forward and gave her a chaste kiss capped with a tiny bite to her fuller bottom lip.
Ada was dazed as he helped her off his lap. She knew she followed him to door, that she leaned against it to stay on her feet despite her weakened knees. He didn't kiss her there, and she didn't even wonder why. He'd already left quite the impression on her mouth, his taste was on her tongue where she had licked them.
"I'll see you when we get there? We have most of the whole place, around the onsen you wanted?"
She'd nodded, cleared her throat. "Ye-yeah. We have the whole place. The crew and cast. Tomorrow evening there are no events, no shooting, so everybody can go in the hot springs."
"I can't wait to see you in the hot springs." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, smoothed a loose piece of hair back. Her hair would curl up insanely in that steam. She was surprised his sentence didn't remind it it was a ringlet.
"Yeah, bet you look good slick and wet." She bugged her eyes. That was a thought not to be shared that she'd been having. Since she chose the location, if she was entirely honest.
"Too bad they aren't private." He raised brow.
"My room is supposed to have a private bath. With the spring water piped in."
"Mine too. Guess we will have to try both." He chucked her chin and left her standing there staring after him, wishing the next 24 hours away, and wondering where the bumbling boy who fell on her went. He'd been annoying but much less dangerous than the confident man who just walked away. Maybe he wasn't Mick's doppelgänger, but had one of his own. She yawned over that thought and skipped her night time routine assuming she'd just make up for it in the morning.
The next day, she nearly missed their flight. It had taken her ages, despite all the wine, to fall asleep. And she'd woken up from hot dreams to sweat dripping visions of a wet Harry. Maybe he should have stayed. Then she might have been able to sleep, or have a better reason to be awake.
She also left her phone charger in her room, and was worried she wouldn't be able to find one on Kyushu. It was Japan, there would still be electronics available everywhere, right?
They were delayed, and short a vehicle, and lots of logistics were in disarray. She had tons of moles to whack all day. Nothing seems to be going right.
By the time they got everybody checked in and squared away, Ada was dreaming of her private bath, without Harry in it, she was so tired. And she could carry his expansive wardrobe in her eye bags.
But she didn't have a room or private bath at all.
"What do you mean there is no room for Ada Scott?" She was trying not to be the screaming rude American, but who the fuck didn't get her a room? They were fired!
The lady at the counter was quietly explaining they were full, but that everybody on property was with the same group, maybe she could share.
"I don't want to share." Oh, she'd lost control and was whining. "I want my private bath and a bed to myself!" That's what she needed dammit. Deserved after a long day on little sleep with no dick and single kiss to obsess over.
A hand slipped around her waist, hooked into her belt loops, a body smoothed up her back. Ada looked down to see a cross and rose. "I don't know how private my bath would be, but you can have it, but there will be no bed to yourself."
#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fanfic#a premonition of love#apol#chapter 8#hinode
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