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HOLY FUCK CHRISTUAN??

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Blacking Out and Breaking Hearts - Chapter 37

Blacking Out and Breaking Hearts - Master List

Word Count: 19K

Warnings: sex drugs and rock n roll baby!! But on a real note there's also some mental health stuff in here so be warned!!!!

Summary: Y/N is a successful musician, trying to navigate the world of stardom along with her complicated feelings for her best friend, Harry.

Alternatively: The one with some closure.

A/N: Hey guys :) Long time no see.

This chapter is starting to tie up all of our loose ends; we need happy endings for everyone! I kind of flip between alllllll the characters in this chapter so we can see a little bit of what they're all doing. Sorry its a little long! As always, please let me know what you think!

Here's what we've got lined up for the rest of the story:

chapter 38 will probably be around 16k of straight smut, plus an ending. 39 and 40 will be the epilogue and then we'll have as many blurbs as y'all want! thank you again everyone who still loves this story! I can't wait to finally see it through with you guys :)

Chapter 37

Rachel wasn’t a confrontational person.

She couldn’t tell if it was just the fact that she’d been born and raised to sit still, look pretty, and be pleasant, or if that was just the personality she’d been cursed with. Either way, she had been soft for as long as she could remember. She was kind and nurturing and never raised her voice, but that also meant she was constantly being stepped over, talked over, and told exactly what to do. She felt like a show dog who never learned to play fetch; all she was meant to do was sit, or speak, or jump. 

That was one of the many, many reasons she loved Logan so much. She was almost the complete opposite of Rachel; She never held her tongue, she never let anyone step on her toes, and she said what she meant with her chest. She was everything Rachel wanted to be and couldn’t. She was strong and brave and also soft in her own way without being weak. 

For some reason, the news of Harry and Y/N’s inevitable rekindling didn’t bring Rachel the same warm, sappy feelings it did for everyone else. Sure, she was happy for them… But she had to fake the excitement in her voice while she listened to Logan go on and on about how amazing it was that her best friend had finally “gotten the balls” to open up to Harry and fix the “good thing they had”. 

Instead of the nice, bubbly feeling Rachel knew she was supposed to have, she felt something else entirely. Something wicked and foreign and almost sinister. Because you know what? Rachel and Logan had a good thing, too, and yet here they were tiptoeing around and lying and covering up every track they left behind them. Here they were, going on nearly two months without having seen each other. Here they were, happy and in love and almost entirely secret.

She didn’t talk to Logan before she did what she did next. It was almost like she was possessed by someone else, someone like her beautiful, talented girlfriend who was brave and bold and decisive. She hung up the phone, after having spent a better part of an hour insisting that she was over the moon for Y/N when in reality she was feeling quite bitter and jealous and angry, and sat motionless on her bed for another 45 minutes. Then, as if someone else had come to rest their hand on her shoulder, she stood up and walked down the stairs to where she knew her parents were enjoying cocktails and fancy little finger foods. 

(She, as she marched down the marble stairs, thought how interesting it was that her parents were still having guests over in the height of a global pandemic but insisted it wasn’t “safe” for her to go see Logan. Funny, she thought to herself. Hilarious, really! If Rachel didn’t know any better, she'd suspect they had different motives keeping her away from Logan! Imagine that!)

And then, still guided by some outside force completely out of her control, she found herself in the middle of the expansive kitchen of her parents enormous house, surrounded by at least 20 people she only sort of knew. People who ran companies her parents invested in or directed movies Rachel never bothered to watch or owned record labels that fucked over people like Logan and Y/N. She, in her pajama pants and hair undone, face bare of any makeup whatsoever, slapped her palms on the cool of the island counter and found herself smiling. Cheesing, actually. Nearly giddy with excitement. 

Her mom noticed her last, letting out what could be considered a gasp as she turned to see her perfect, hand-moulded daughter in front of all these people looking the way she did now. Hair thrown up on top of her head, not clean. Logan’s oversized t-shirt over her narrow frame, covered in various stains. (The stains were an homage to the exciting, vibrant life Logan had lived before they met, one that Rachel would never experience or understand. Stains from house parties in basements and 9-5 jobs and public school. Rachel loved the spots where the material was stained blue or purple with paint, or slightly torn from a fight Logan had gotten into with some girl from Junior year. None of Rachel’s clothes had stains. Not any of them. It was almost as if she’d never existed at all.)

It was after the gasp that Rachel’s mother said: “Oh! Oh, wow! Sweetheart, why don’t you go upstairs and get dressed and you can join us for dessert?”

Rachel, quick with a response she hadn’t taken any time to think over or plan, shook her head. Her smile didn’t falter. 

“Actually, mom, I don’t think I will.”

Nervous laughter, from everywhere. It came in small spurts, someone else’s uncomfortable chuckle filling the silence one after the other. 

“Okay, well…” Her mom started, letting out her own high pitched chortle. “Why don’t you-“

“I’m going to see Logan.” Rachel interrupted. (She couldn’t remember one other time she had ever cut someone off while they were speaking, but she was already far from her usual self tonight). Rachel looked around at the confused faces around her, “Logan is my girlfriend.” She clarified with a smile. Her mom laughed tightly again. 

“Oh, no, she’s-“

“Yes, mom. Logan is my girlfriend and I’m going to go see her. I think I might stay there a while, actually. With the virus and everything, you know, I figure it would be safer than staying here with all of your lovely guests.”

Now she’d done it. Her mothers face changed shades three times over, going from pink to red to a stark white that for some reason made Rachel feel even better than she already did. Her mom, after a quick excuse to her friends, walked herself up the stairs, knowing Rachel would follow. 

When she got to Logan’s house later that night she didn’t recount the events of the evening. She didn’t tell her what her mom had said, all the threats she’d whispered under her breath. She didn’t tell her how she’d cried the whole time packing her bags, or how her dad had run out after her telling her to think it over or sleep on it. She didn’t tell Logan that her mom had, in her own words, told her she wasn’t welcome back in their home if she did anything “unsavory”. She didn’t tell Logan that she’d essentially been cut off by her parents when she told her mom she was going public with her relationship. She didn’t feel that she needed to, not yet at least. 

Rachel didn’t need her family's money. She was successful in her own right, and the whole pandemic had given her a chance to start thinking about careers other than modeling, anyway. She didn’t take time to think it over. She didn’t have to. 

///

Logan was snuggled in her bed when Rachel knocked on the door. At first she wasn’t sure what she’d heard, knowing she had already had her daily DoorDash interaction and wasn’t expecting anything or anyone else. The second knock came once Logan had sat up in bed, ears perked and skin prickly with nervous goosebumps. 

To say she was surprised was a massive fucking understatement. She’d never been so happy. She threw herself into Rachel, whose arms were slung with bags, and didn’t notice the way her cheeks were still a little puffy. She tugged her inside and she sat her down on the couch before running to the kitchen to whip up some of Rachel’s favorite cookies. 

Rachel could’ve cared less about the cookies, but she knew Logan wouldn’t take no for an answer. So, she sat backwards on the couch, gazing into the kitchen just watching the love of her life pant and stress and measure and stir. She’d never looked more beautiful, Rachel thought. Never ever ever. 

They stayed on the couch the rest of the night, catching up and kissing and saying over and over how they’d missed one another. Next to a half eaten tray of cookies is where Logan helped Rachel pick out all their favorite photos together for Rachel to post on Instagram. A post dedicated to her girlfriend. And in a way, a post dedicated to herself. 

And it was that easy. After so many months of lying and hiding and longing desperately for what all these other couples had, Rachel had it. She was free. She was cut-off and angry and hurt and scared but before all of that she was free. And, now, she was out. 

///

You didn’t see Rachel’s post, or Logan’s texts, or the countless tweets breaking the internet. You were… preoccupied. 

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like that.” Harry praised, running a hand through your hair to rest on the back of your skull. “So fucking pretty. Fucks sake.”

You hummed around him, running your hands up the length of his thighs to rest on the soft part of his hips. Harry was laid back against the headboard, body at a slope while you nestled yourself between his parted thighs. Your head bobbed softly around his length, his hand applying no extra pressure but still making your scalp tingle warmly. You weren’t in any hurry, your movements slow and sleepy and delicate. Harry hummed softly above you, telling you again and again that you were so pretty, so pretty, so fucking good. 

The last few days had gone pretty much like this. You’d wake up wrapped up in Harry’s gangly limbs, kiss his eyelids open, and stay in bed until one of you was desperate enough to go pee or eat. You’d sometimes lay in bed and talk or make out or, on days like this one, you’d shuffle yourself down the length of Harry’s body and take him into your mouth like you were starved. Harry would do the same for you, usually pulling you by your hips up his torso and onto his face or bending his leg just enough so you could situate yourself on top of his tiger tattoo and curl into his chest until you came. 

Life was so good. Everything was perfect. Harry was an angel, as usual. The weather was just right for leaving the windows open. No one texted you or called you about meetings or bothered you. It was just you and Harry and a kind of calm contentment you hadn’t felt in years. 

You still hadn’t had sex, but after listening in on Harry’s conversation with Anders you decided not to push it. You thought maybe if you just proved yourself to him, he’d be ready. You didn’t mind giving him time, even though you secretly hoped each night you curled up next to him that he might take you right there and press your face into the mattress until you couldn’t think or even speak. You would never ever want him to do something he didn’t want to, and he was giving you more than enough to hold you over. In fact, the amount of affection and love and attention he’d showered you with the last few days had been enough to last a lifetime. Not a second went by that you didn’t know with every singular cell in your body how much he loved you. He wouldn’t allow it. 

Even when you had a nightmare a few days before, Harry had been awake and alert the moment you needed him. You didn’t even have time to get to the worst part of the dream and startle yourself awake before he’d pulled you on top of his body and began whispering in your ears. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and his legs around your thighs, tying you to his front. You weren’t scared when you woke up and didn’t pull away from the touch. “I’m right here.” He’d whispered, shifting his weight to rock you slightly. “I’m right here. It’s okay, flower. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”

He must have heard you mumbling his name in your sleep, the same way you always did when you had these nightmares. You called his name like always and he was there. You were calm and back to sleep in a matter of minutes, something you wouldn’t have even thought possible a few months ago. 

And now, on another beautiful morning, you were leaving the half-moon indents of your nails on the inside of Harry’s thighs. Feeling more alive than ever. On top of the world. Like the luckiest girl alive. 

///

Anders wasn’t sure what to do with himself. 

He’d not been doing his weekly therapy sessions like he was meant to, and hadn’t been for weeks. Talking about his feelings with some stiff old man was bad enough, and doing it over a Zoom call was just downright unbearable. He’d rather do anything else, and so he did. He crocheted and wrote songs and annoyed his parents to no end practicing his trumpet from middle school. He painted and talked to Harry and Y/N and learned the dances from three separate Justin Bieber music videos to a fucking T. He kept himself busy by any means necessary, because he had to. He even built a tiny house for a lady bug he found on his window still out of a cereal box. The ladybug died the next morning, but Anders liked to think it died comfortably at least. 

But on this day, Anders was inclined by some outside force (perhaps the same force that had moved Rachel all the way in LA) to find his laptop under all the dirty laundry and half-finished projects on the floor and open up the stupid fucking website and message his stupid fucking therapist that he was actually going to show today. 

He found himself talking about Y/N, and Jena, and Macy from the grocery store. (She’d been the one to stop him from nearly overdosing that day he’d bought all those drugs, after all. He thought about her all the time lately. He thought about her every time he ate one of his oranges he’d bought that day, which was a lot. His mom told him he had to finish the entire bag as some sort of fucked up punishment, he supposed). His therapist, with his cable knit sweater and glasses slid half-way down his nose, had to basically force Anders to talk about his parents. 

“It sucks, man. What else do you want to know?”

The doctor, Dale, narrowed his eyes at Anders’ answer to his question about how things were ‘at home’. When he realized Anders wasn’t going to continue, he sighed and lifted his hands. 

“Could you be any more specific about what sucks so bad, man?” Dale retorted. Over the weeks that Anders had spent with him before the pandemic, Dale had learned it worked better if he talked to Anders the way Anders talked to him. Dale thought, genuinely, that they bonded this way. Anders just thought it was funny. 

“Everything about it sucks.” Was all he could think to say in return. 

By the end of the session, Dale had somehow convinced him that spending more time with his parents might help. If he didn’t put so much space between them, he said, he may feel less suffocated. So, in a desperate fucking attempt to feel a little less crazy, Anders decided to do just that. 

Every night his dad would hobble up the stairs and knock softly on the door and invite Anders to dinner, and every night Anders would decline. (Ever since the incident with the drugs, Andy couldn’t stand looking either of them in the eyes.) When Anders would inevitably turn him away, his dad would say something about how he would save some if he changed his mind and Anders would mumble a quick “thank you” and that would be that. He knew his dad was trying his best, and he believed it when he said he missed Anders and wanted to spend time with him. His mom never made any attempt to talk to him after the drug incident. Anders was okay with that, he thought.

To put it plainly, Anders’ dad was fucking bamboozled when he accepted his offer to come to dinner later that night. He’d been leaning against the door, his ear pressed to the wood to hear Anders’ response when it had been thrown open to showcase a bright-eyed and surprisingly content son on the other side. “I’d like that.” Anders smiled, feeling like this was his first big step into fixing everything. “Thank you for asking.”

His dad had followed him down the steps, even the sound of his socked feet on the stairs sounding confused. Anders spun around the corner into the kitchen, throwin’ a little razzle dazzle on his triumphant return to the family unit as he found a seat at the table. He leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. He felt almost excited to be here. 

“Whatcha makin’?”

His mom, at the sound of her only son’s voice, turned to face him and froze, serving spoon still in hand and dripping twice onto the tiled floor before she looked back at her husband. 

“I told you I didn’t make enough for three.” She said to him.

Oh. 

And, just like that, it was over. The high Anders had felt following his talk with Dale fizzled out and settled into an ache in his abdomen. He was stunned for a second, looking back and forth between his parents. Surely he misunderstood. 

“I’m sure there’s enough.” His dad said, an over the top sunshine in his voice. When she didn’t answer right away his dad spoke again, his sunshine feeling a bit more shaded. “He wants to have dinner with us, hun.”

“Well, there’s not enough.” She reiterated, literally throwing her spoon onto the stove. “If he wanted to eat he should’ve said something. Since when does he want to spend time with us?”

“He can have mine, then.”

Before anyone else could speak, Anders stood up. He felt so small and yet too big, like he was taking up too much space no matter how far he folded into himself. 

“It’s alright, Dad.” Anders smiled, turning to face his mom. She met his eyes, finally, though she couldn’t have looked more uninterested. “I have oranges upstairs.”

And he turned and walked back up the same stairs to his same room and collapsed on that same bed he spent all day every day in. He could hear the bickering, just like when he was a child. He covered his head with a pillow but he could still hear them. 

“That was cruel.”

“He doesn’t want anything to do with us! Why should I continue making him dinner if he never eats any? I’m tired of cleaning out the tupperwares you insist on saving for him.”

“I’ll clean them, then.”

There was a pause. Dishes clanging in the sink. 

“Why do you do this? Why do you defend him after the way he’s talked to us?”

“You’re holding him hostage here! What is he supposed to do?”

“Be grateful, I don’t know!”

Anders turned under his covers. He decided already he wouldn’t cry, but it was threatening to gurgle out of him anyway. 

“He is our son. We’re supposed to be helping. You read all those books… You- you went to classes! And now you’re not even going to let the boy eat?”

“I'm tired of the books! I'm tired of the classes, and the coddling, and the fighting! I give up. I give up, okay? I’m done!”

“You give up? Haven’t we failed the boy enough?”

“He failed us! We gave him everything. He could’ve been anything and, and, and… and look at him! You’re proud of that? I’m tired of feeling responsible for how he turned out. He did that on his own.”

“Damn right I’m proud. He may have his… struggles, but he is not a failure. The boys a goddamn rockstar!”

“He’s not a rockstar, he’s a junkie. And I’m tired of pretending that he’s not.”

Now, to anyone else hearing this conversation, there’s a few things you might miss. 

Number one:  Anders’ dad never cursed. He had, in all of his son’s life, uttered at most 4 curse words and even that was a stretch. Him using the word “damn”, and taking the lord's name in vain? Anders’ could’ve thought hell had finally frozen over! 

Number two: Anders couldn’t remember a single time in his life that either of his parents had said they were proud of him. So, even if he hadn’t said it to his face, his dad saying those words was like winning the fucking lottery. 

Number three: In all of his years as a semi-professional drug addict, Anders had never been called a junkie by anyone. He hadn’t even seen it online, and he was called his fair share of names. So, to hear his mom say it… It was like a kick in the back of the head. It was like a blow right in his chest. It was worse than going to therapy and making phone calls and being punched in the nose. It was worse than anything he’d ever felt before. 

He sprang up out of bed, grabbing his car keys and stuffing his feet into the nearest pair of shoes. He sauntered down the stairs, making no attempt to hide his presence. The conversation in the kitchen stopped as both parties watched him. With a captive audience, Anders thought, it was the perfect time to put on the performance of a lifetime. 

“I’m heading out.” He said, spinning the keys around his finger. “Don’t know when I’ll be back.”

Anders, when his mom said nothing, thought he might have been hoping she would stop him. She didn’t. 

“I would ask you not to wait up, but seeing as you’ve already eaten I suppose you’re about ready for bed.” He continued. His dad followed him to the door. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” He said, stopping a few feet away from Anders as if he was some feral cat that might be startled away. “We can go grab a bite somewhere. It would be nice to spend some time together.”

Anders actually thought about it. His dad, who his entire life had stood by like some decorative piece of furniture, was finally doing what Anders had always wished he would.

“I’m just going to go do some shopping, but maybe we could watch a movie tomorrow, okay?”

His dad smiled, a real smile, and nodded. “Okay, son.”

“Okay.” He said back. 

Anders gave one last look to his mom, waiting. Any second now she’d say sorry and tell him not to go. She’d tell him at the very least to be careful, or be home by 10. She didn’t. 

“I’ll be home by 10.” He decided for himself. Maybe she’d hold him to it. Maybe she’d call a hundred times if he wasn’t home in two hours. Maybe she’d do what she used to and demand he be home by 9 instead. 

She didn’t say anything. She turned back into the kitchen and continued clanging against the pots and pans she had on the stove. His dad gave him a sad, knowing look, but forced a smile anyway. 

“Call me if you need anything.” He said, giving a quick slap on the shoulder. “I’ll still be up when you get home if you decide you want to hang out. Be safe, okay?”

Anders nodded and because he was possessed by some much more kind hearted spirit tonight he wrapped his arms around his father with an awkward pat-pat on his shoulder blades. His dad took the opportunity to hug him tightly against his chest, even ruffling Anders’ hair the way he had when he was only a kid. 

“I trust you.” He whispered. “And I’m sorry.”

///

The drive to Taco Bell didn’t take too long. Anders turned at the second stop light, hooked a left by the library, and took two more rights until he had made his way into the drive thru. He was the only car there, which was fitting. 

He ordered himself two soft tacos, a quesadilla, a cheesy gorrida crunch, and three spicy potato soft tacos. Instead of bringing it home he sat in the empty parking lot and ate there. He wasn’t hungry anymore after the first two tacos but he forced himself to eat the rest anyway. He kept eating and eating and even when it hurt he kept going. He didn’t need his mom to feed him when he could feed himself, he kept thinking. He didn’t need anyone when he could take care of himself. He was eating, wasn’t he? As long as he was eating it was proof he didn’t need anyone at all! He was doing just fine.

When he’d finished the last scraps of food, he nestled himself further into his seat. It was 9:55. His mom would call any minute. 

He tried to call Y/N, but she didn’t answer. He tried calling Rachel. No answer. He almost called Logan, but knew he wouldn’t have shit to talk about with her. He was about to call Harry when he changed his mind, not really in the mood for someone who was going to try to fix his problems instead of just listening. He settled on sitting and waiting instead (for what, he wasn’t sure), watching the clock change numbers. He didn’t even put on any music. 

He bent forward, picking at a spot of dried paint on his pant leg. He hadn’t even noticed the red splotch there before, the paint somehow reaching his ankle while he painted a portrait of his now deceased lady bug that morning. He kept picking at it but somehow made it worse, chips of red shoved under his nails so deeply it was starting to hurt and the stain now more deeply embedded into the fibers of his sweats. He kept trying and trying and it just got worse and worse and it hurt more and more but he needed the stain out. He needed it out. It had to come out. 

When he looked up again, it was 10:37. His mom never called. The red paint was still on his pants. 

///

You’d already cum twice before you picked up your phone that morning. After Harry had finished, he’d pulled you up onto him (as he was in the habit of doing), nestling his face against your belly as he pressed kisses into the spaces under your hip bones. 

You didn’t even notice all of the missed messages and the chaos online until Harry left to go to the bathroom an hour or two later. You were still foggy-headed and naked when you finally picked up your phone, quickly propping yourself up on an elbow when you realized that while you’d been busy apparently the entire world had turned upside down. 

You sprang out of bed, nearly slipping as you hauled yourself down the hallway and into the bathroom where Harry had just finished washing his hands and was getting ready to brush his teeth. 

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!” You were spitting out, scaring the ever loving fuck out of Harry. He jumped almost out of his skin, smearing toothpaste on cheek. 

“What is it?” He questioned, free hand pressed to his chest in shock. “Is everything okay?”

You just shook your head, scrolling through the 40 messages Logan had sent so far that morning. (Or, really, that night for Logan). 

“Everyone knows about Logan and Rachel.” You finally said, setting your phone down on the counter and tangling your fingers into your hair as you shoved it out of your face. Harry froze mid-brush, his face flashing with panic before settling into a determined, problem-solving stare.

(Harry had been in the habit of doing that lately. Something about him just seemed so much more at ease, more sensible, more calm. He was so much slower to boil. He had a tranquility about him that you hadn’t noticed before.)

“Someone outted them?” He asked, setting his toothbrush down on the counter. He cringed for a second, shaking his head. “Do you know who it was? I can talk to my team about having my lawyers reach out to them, not that Rachel doesn’t have her own lawyers…”

You stared back at him, confused. “Oh, no…” You started, letting out a small chuckle. “They didn’t-”

“I’ll talk to Logan myself if she already said no, but I can’t just let that happen to them.” Harry grimaced again, leaning his elbows on the counter. “Is she okay? Is Rachel okay? That’s so fucked up that someone would do that.”

“Rachel did it.” You stopped him, cutting him off before he completely spiraled. “She posted on Instagram. Apparently she’s moving into the house with Logan. Her, uh, her parents…”

“Right.” Harry said, letting out a huff. He paused for a second, acting like he was about to speak again before stopping. It only took him a second for him to change his mind, turning his body to face you and resting a hand on the counter. “It’s really fucking convenient of these parents to just kick their kids to the curb like this, innit? And for no fucking reason. It’s so fucked up.”

You closed the gap between your bodies, wrapping your arms around Harry’s waist as he put his attention back towards brushing his teeth. “If it makes you feel any better, Logan says Rachel’s okay. She never liked living with her parent’s anyway, so she says they both just feel relieved.”

Harry hummed along, bending forward slightly to spit into the sink. “Are people being nice to them? Online and allat?”

You pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades, meeting his eyes in the mirror ahead of you. You nodded. 

“They’re being very nice.” You told him. “They’re trending on Twitter.”

///

Harry left a few minutes later, making you promise not to shower without him. You agreed, sending him off with a kiss and a promise that you’d join him on his next run. You didn’t mean it, but Harry still seemed satisfied as he headed out. 

You’d been so distracted by the whole Logan/Rachel situation that you almost forgot Anders had called you until you were snuggled up back in bed. You figured since Harry would be back soon to take a shower that you would wait to get dressed and have a few extra minutes in the swaddle of covers on Harry’s bed. So, back in your snug little cocoon, you decided to give Anders a call back. 

“HEY FUCKER.” Anders yelled into the receiver almost the second you’d pressed the call button. You giggled to yourself, pressing the phone between your ear and the pillow.

“Hey sweet pea. What’s up?” You asked, letting your eyes flutter closed. You could hear some kind of… banging on the other end, though it didn’t particularly surprise you considering who you were talking to. “What are you building a fucking rocking chair or something?”

“Its a shelf, actually.” He corrected, swinging what you assumed to be a hammer a few times before continuing. “I’ve almost got it all finished, I just need to add some final touches.”

“Oh…” You started, deciding whether or not you should even ask. “That sounds… fun?”

“It’s keeping me busy, at least. I got in a fight with my mom again so I decided to take matters into my own hands.” He swung the hammer again before letting out a sigh. “She wanted to act like a bitch and not let me eat dinner so I thought, y’know, okay. I’ll go buy some fuckin’ groceries and a shelf and I’ll feed my fucking self. I got a mini fridge and everything.”

You paused, unsure what to say next. As close as you and Anders were, Harry was normally the person that he went to to talk about his family stuff, and you weren’t sure exactly how to navigate it. 

“Why wouldn’t she let you eat?”

“Because she hates me.”

“She doesn’t-”

“No, she does.” Anders stopped you, chuckling to himself. “But I’m okay with it. Kinda come to terms with it, you know?”

It got quiet for a second, both of you unsure what to say next. 

“She called me a junkie.” Anders added, instantly making your skin itch all over. You tried not to but let out an audible gasp, your hand not quick enough to stop it before it came out. “She said all kinds of stuff, actually. But it’s cool.”

What were you even supposed to say to make this any better? “You aren’t a junkie, Anders.”

“No, I am.” He brushed you off. “It’s all good though, seriously. You don’t have to make me feel better or anything. I just wanted to talk to you is all.”

“Okay.. Well, if you were wanting to talk to Harry he should be home in a little bit…”

“Harry? No, no..” Anders responded. “I just want to talk to you for a bit if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, totally.” You rushed out, realizing too late how desperate you must sound. “I mean, for sure. I can talk.”

///

Anders filled you in on the rest of his night, telling you all about how he had spent half the night in a Taco Bell parking lot before coming home and watching a movie with his dad. He said his dad waited up for him just like he’d promised he would, only to pass out less than 15 minutes into the movie.  You felt your chest swell slightly at the news but you didn’t make a big deal out of it. You’d always hoped Anders could work it out with his parents, and even if his mom still wasn’t on board, at least he had someone on his side now. 

(Anders made a point not to tell you that he’d purposefully fallen asleep on the couch, too, his head ‘just so happening’ to fall on his fathers shoulder next to him. He’d imagined they’d both wake up the next morning and laugh about how they’d dozed off. Andy woke up only an hour or so after he’d drifted, though, neck stiff. He was never, ever able to get a full night's rest, even now. Once he woke he hobbled up the steps and got into bed like nothing had ever happened. He'd already decided he’d never utter a word of it to anyone.)

When Harry got home you were still on the phone, and instead of listening in he decided to clean up the kitchen. (You’d decided to make homemade pizzas the night before, and to put it lightly the kitchen looked like a murder scene). You felt kind of guilty leaving him to deal with the mess, but you felt special being the one to have Anders’ attention for once and you didn’t want to let it go just yet. 

“And so I built the little guy a house and everything, right? I made him a little couch and a bed and all that…” Anders was going on, telling you some story about a lady bug he’d found in his bedroom. “He was dead when I woke up, though. I googled it and I don’t think it’s bad luck to find a dead lady bug but I still think it’s, like, a sign or something. Like a bad omen.”

“You sound like you’ve been cooped up too long, buddy.” You laughed, imagining the comical frown on Anders’ face when he found the bug. “You’re thinking about it too much.”

“That’s all I have to fucking do these days, man! I’ve been cooped up way too long.” He spit out, exasperated. “You never wanna fucking talk to me anymore so I have to resort to desperate measures.”

You furrowed your brow. “What do you mean I never talk to you?” You asked with a soft laugh, though you really weren’t joking. “You’re the one who never calls me.”

That wasn’t entirely true and you knew it, but it came out anyway. What you meant was that he didn’t call you as much as Harry.

“I never call you? What the fuck do you mean I never call you?” He pushed back, his awkward laugh mimicking yours a moment ago but his tone a little bit harsh. “I would call you more if you actually wanted to talk to me.”

“What are you even saying right now?” You sighed, sitting up in bed so the comforter hung off of your chest. “I always want to talk to you. You just call Harry instead.”

“You want to talk to me now but you didn’t before I left LA.” He said matter of factly. “You’ve barely wanted to talk to me for months now.”

“That is not true, Anders.” You spoke, offended. You realized once you’d said it that you had no reason to be offended; he was actually right. But that realization only annoyed you further, so you doubled down. “We hung out all the time before you left LA.”

“Well, first of all, we definitely did not. Not alone at least.” He spoke again. He didn’t sound angry, only a little bit miffed. “And second of all, you’re my best friend. You seriously think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been around me? It’s just like… if I did something, I’d rather you tell me what I did so we can talk about it.”

For some reason your blood ran cold. If I did something, he said. You could almost laugh. 

“I’m not your best friend, though. Don’t say that.”

He barked out a laugh. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious, Anders. I love you but I am not your best friend.”

He didn’t say anything right away. “Okay then? Fucking ouch.”

“I’m just saying…”

You could hear him breathing unevenly. “So could you, like, tell me why? Or?”

“Why what?”

“Why you don’t want to be my best friend anymore?”

It was you who laughed this time, trying to lighten the mood and make your words a bit softer. You spoke like you were kidding but you meant every word. “It’s not that I don’t, it’s just that you’ve clearly replaced me. Like I just mean don’t call me your best friend when it’s obvious I’m not.”

“Replace you? What the fuck are you even talking about?”

“What is not clicking here, man?” You tried to tease him.  “We’re still friends I’m just saying that you and Harry are closer than us now, and that’s okay, but don’t-“

“Harry? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Yes, Harry.”

“Fuck Harry! What the fuck? You’re-“

“You can’t tell me it isn’t true!”

“It’s not!“

“It’s is!”

Anders let out a long sigh. “Y/N you are my best friend… I couldn’t ever replace you even if I lived a thousand life times. Don’t be crazy.”

You hated it when he called you crazy, even when he didn’t really mean it. 

“I’m not your best friend and you know that.” You let out, words coming faster than you could even comprehend them. “I can admit that I might have been distant but you’ve been doing the exact same thing as me. You think I haven’t noticed how much you talk to Harry? You call him every day and tell him all about your life and what’s going on and when we talk you tell me everything’s fine. It’s like… It’s like you replaced me the second you got back from…”

“From where, Y/N? Say it.” He prompted you. “Where’d I come back from? Hm? Could you just fucking say it for once instead of acting like it didn’t happen?” 

You frowned hard, biting your lip. “Did you even hear what I said?”

“I did, I was just letting you finish before I tell you how ridiculous you sound.”

Your eyes rolled so hard they almost fell out of your head. “Fuck you, Andy.”

He let out a sigh. “No, I didn’t- I just meant that you’re wrong about that. About Harry, I mean.”

“Oh, am I Anders?” You questioned, free hand balling into the comforter. He tried backpedaling but you had already departed the station, the damn already split open. You were upset now and couldn’t hide it even though you wished you could. “You tell him everything. I’ve heard how you guys talk to each other. And, yeah, I needed some space from you after everything but… But I’m just saying it didn’t take you very long to find someone else. You act like I just fucked off and left you out to dry but you did the exact same thing to me.”

He was quiet for a while, thinking. “I wasn’t trying to say that at all, dude. I think maybe we’re misunderstanding each other-“

“Oh, and speaking of rehab,” You cut him off, words already caught in the avalanche. “Who did you have come visit you twice a fucking week? Not me, Andy. If I was your best friend… fuck. I didn’t get to see you once, Andy, and I’m the one who fucking found-“

You stopped suddenly, chest heaving. It was the first time either of you had come even remotely close to talking about that night. You decided to do what Anders tried and back pedal, but it was already too late. You kept going.

“Whatever. I’m just saying that, to me, it seems like you've already got a best friend. I’m sorry for not being around more but-“

“Hey! Hey! I wasn’t trying to pick a fight, okay? I just wanted to know if I did something…”

Here he went with that shit again. If I did something. He could get bent. 

“I’m not either.”

“Kind of seems like you are.”

“I’m just saying! Geez!” You yelled, knowing you were just making it worse. You didn’t know why you couldn’t just stop yourself. “It’s okay if Harry’s your best friend. It’s fine. I just don’t think we need to lie to each other to make me feel better.”

“He is not my best fucking friend, Y/N. I could give a motherfuck about Harry.” Anders spoke. He wasn’t often serious with you like this, so his tone made the words you wanted to throw at him disappear instantly on your tongue. “Not really, but you know what I mean. And I… I never even invited Harry to come see me at rehab, he just showed up.”

“Yeah, and you never even told me!” You snipped. 

“You told me not to talk about Harry! What was I supposed to-“

“No. You kept that from me purposefully, Anders. That’s different and you know it is. I fucking… I fucking drove you there and you didn’t even let me see you.” You caught your breath, panting. “I’m sorry, I know I’m being mean right now it’s just…”

“It’s been on your mind, I get it.” He excused you. He was so kind, even now, letting you off the hook easily as always. “It’s been on my mind, too. I’m glad it’s out in the open at least.”

“I guess.” You grumbled. But he was right, and he was right to bring it up. You sighed, admitting defeat. “You’re right, I just… Its hard for me to talk about. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He waved off. “What else do you need to say?”

You chuckled, wracking your brain. What could you say? There were a million things you’d thought to yourself over the last few months, and the last few weeks in particular, and yet nothing came to mind. 

“That’s it, I think.” You answered honestly. “I’m sorry I talked to you like that, but… I don’t know. It hurt my feelings when you said I don’t like talking to you because it isn’t true. I still care about you and I still love you as much as I always did…”

“Then why doesn’t it feel like that, Y/N?” He asked, voice wavering. “I’m sorry for spending so much time with Harry, but I couldn’t be alone, man. I… I felt like you fucking disappeared. I’m not blaming you I’m just saying I wasn’t trying to replace you, ever. I- I genuinely didn’t know what else to do. I needed someone.”

“So did I!”

“I know you did! I know! And I would’ve been there if you’d fucking let me.”

“Maybe I would’ve let you if you weren’t with your fucking boy  all the time!”

He let out a small gasping sound. “That’s totally fucking unfair. I only spent so much time with him because you weren’t around.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. But it’s not just that you were hanging out with him, anyway. It’s the way you talk to him… You know when I got here he knew things about your life that I didn’t even know? It was embarrassing, dude. You call him to talk about your feelings and you tell him what’s bothering you and when I call you just say it’s fine.” You let out. “You don’t talk to me like that, and you never have. You didn’t before you went to rehab and you don’t now… And you know what, now that I think of it, it kind of did bother me how much time you spent with Harry. You could’ve befriended anyone in the world, Anders, and you chose him? I mean, part the reason we stopped seeing each other as much is because you were constantly with my ex boyfriend. It wasn’t the main reason, but it still fucking sucked for me.”

“I was trying to get you guys back together the entire time!” He defended weakly. “I wasn’t picking a side, man, I was trying to fucking help. I don’t fucking know. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I spent so much time with him and I can totally understand why that would upset you. I should’ve thought about that and I’m sorry.”  He paused, sheets ruffling as he must have been laying down. “But we both know that’s not the reason you didn’t want to hang out with me. And, you know, I understand that and I’m not trying to act fucking stupid by pretending I don’t get it, but… I mean, I want to know how I can fix it. Like how long is that going to last before you want to be around me again? I know I fucked up and if there’s nothing I can do I get it but I would like to at least try before I let this fucking ruin our friendship.”

You weren’t sure what to say. He spoke again while you tried to figure it out. 

“Sorry I didn’t fucking open with that.” He giggled, letting out an exhausted huff. “I didn’t mean to come at you like that I just didn’t know how else to bring it up. I should’ve just asked you how you were feeling.”

“It’s okay. It’s fine, I just don’t…” The words you searched for still eluded you. “Why didn’t you let me visit you, Anders? When I found that out, I… That hurt super fucking bad, man. I mean, I asked you every single day… And, I mean, the whole Harry thing aside, I feel like I should’ve been the one to get to be there. I think I earned that.”

“Earned it?” He whispered incredulously. “Y/N, I didn’t want you there because I was a fucking mess. I- I- I was a fucking disaster! I had already done enough to you at that point it felt unfair to drag you into that. And I was embarrassed, man. I didn’t want anyone to see me, and the only reason I was okay with Harry being there was because I didn’t know him and I honestly didn’t give a shit what he thought. I care what you think, a lot. I always have. I couldn’t let you see me like that.”

It made sense, but it didn’t make you feel much better. You didn’t even realize how badly you’d been hurt by the news of Harry going to visit him until you’d spoken it out loud, and it was hitting you like a truck. 

“I still wanted to be there.” You replied, words like glass ready to shatter. “I wanted to be there for you the entire time, after rehab, but…”

“But you were mad at me. I know.”

“Mad at you?” You snapped, shaking your head for no audience. “I wasn’t… No, Andy. I couldn’t be around you because…” You had to stop, inhaling a shaky breath. You didn’t want to think about it. “Because every time I was around you, all I could think of… I still saw it every time I looked at you. I could see how purple your lips were, and you were so pale…”

You couldn’t continue, throat closed tight. You shook your head again but didn’t know why. Maybe to shake the sight out of your brain. 

“I’m so sorry I did that to you, Y/N. I am so, so fucking sorry.” He whispered again. You could tell he was crying. “I spend every second of every day wishing I didn’t do that. And, you know, sometimes I think that… I don’t know, if I’d only done it an hour earlier, or locked my door, you never would’ve-“

“Anders! Stop it!” You broke, cutting him off before he could rip your heart out entirely. You were crying now, too. “You can’t say stuff like that. It’s a good thing I was there. I was supposed to be there.”

“You were never supposed to be there.” He argued. “That wasn’t supposed to happen like that. And if- If I thought for a second that you’d come there and see that then I wouldn’t have… Or I would’ve done it differently, or something. And then you wouldn’t have had to see anything and you wouldn’t have had to drive me to rehab and we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. And you wouldn’t have even known me that well back then to even really miss me for that long.”

“It would have ruined my life, Anders.” You clarified. He couldn’t have been more wrong, about any of it. “I never would’ve fucking forgiven myself for that shit. I still can’t forgive myself now! You can’t- You don’t get to say you wish you’d done it better, or that I’d be better off or whatever dumb shit you’re gonna say. I was there for a reason and I am grateful every day that you weren’t alone.”

“I know. I know.” Anders repeated over and over while you finished, voice hushed and tired. “I know, I didn’t mean all of that… I just feel so guilty about everything, and the only way I can think to fix it is if I would’ve-“

“You don’t need to feel guilty.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You do not.”

“You just fucking said you can’t forgive yourself for what happened! You just said that! I fucking ruined your life as it is! I didn’t need to die to do that, it’s already fucking done!” He went off suddenly, nearly making you jump out of your skin. “I know what I did to you. And I’m sorry. But that is exactly fucking why I call Harry to bitch about my life, or talk about my fucking mom, or whatever. I can’t talk to you about that shit.”

“Why not, Anders? Why not?” You croaked. “That’s what friends do. I want you to know how you're doing, I want to help…”

“I can’t fucking talk to you about it! I can’t! I have burdened you since I fucking met you, I’ve scarred you for fucking life. I’m not calling you to complain about how shit my life is.” He huffed for a second, bordering more on angry now than he did upset. “As far as I’m concerned, for the rest of my fucking life I’m going to be perfectly fine every time you ask me how I’m doing. I have to be okay for you. I don’t get to complain to you, ever again.”

“I don’t want you to always be okay. I want you to be honest with me.”

“Because you’ve been honest with me, right? Like you ever tell me what’s going on with you. You hardly even talked about the breakup with Harry with me. You don’t tell me shit.” He spilled out. “Every time I ask, you lie to me just like I lie to you. You’re telling me you’ve been perfectly fine this whole time? There hasn’t been one thing that’s bothered you? Not one bad day?”

You didn’t realize just how clueless Anders was on what you’d been through while he was off dealing with his own stuff. You’d kept just as much from him as he had from you, from the breakup to the nightmares to the way you were constantly haunted by that pale, purple version of your best friend. 

“You’re right. I haven’t been honest with you, either.” You admitted. You wiped your face, frustrated tears threatening to make their way down your neck. “Can we just agree not to lie to each other anymore? I’ll tell you what’s going on with me but only if you agree to do the same. I want to be there for you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

It was quiet, both of you catching your breath and slowing your brains. Everything was coming at you so fast it was like you couldn’t keep up. You thought about everything, about how angry you had been and how hurt and how confused… You thought about everything that had pinched at the back of your brain for months now that you always steadfastly ignored. 

“You should’ve told me what was going on, before all of this.” You said without meaning to. “It never should’ve gotten so bad if you just told me.”

“It’s not that simple, Y/N.”

“It is, though. I… I fucking asked you if you were on drugs, and you lied to me. I asked you all the time if you were okay. I tried calling you every single day after you broke your nose.” It was all bubbling over now, nothing stopping it. You were angry again, about everything. All at once. “I know I should’ve tried harder and I will always carry that with me, but you should’ve talked to me, man. You should’ve told me.”

“What was I supposed to do, huh? What do you want from me?” He snapped, a chord obviously struck. “You wanted me to tell the girl I hardly knew that I was fucking su*cidal? That would’ve gone over super well, I’m sure.”

“That’s not what I mean-“

“I can tell you how that conversation would’ve gone, actually. Hey girl I just met, do you want to hear about how fucked up I am?” He stopped to laugh. “You wanted me to tell you that I was on drugs, again? Should I have told you how many fucking times I’d already done the exact same thing since I was, like, 17? That would’ve been really comforting to you, I’m sure. It wouldn’t have totally made you lose faith in me or anything, like everybody else.” He stopped for a second to laugh, again, the idea of this imaginary conversation obviously tickling him. “Or, better yet, I could’ve told you at the hospital that that wasn’t even the first time I’d tried to fucking k*ll myself! Or the second! Or the fucking third! I’m sure that would’ve helped soooo much had you known that.”

Instead of saying anything you just cried quietly into your bent elbow, head resting on your knees. When you didn’t say anything Anders sighed sadly, speaking again. 

“I shouldn’t have said that. I know that’s not what you meant, and I’m sorry. But you have to see where I’m coming from, right? If I…” He choked on his words for a second, clearing his throat. “Y/N, if I knew how to ask for help you would’ve been the first one I went to. If I knew how to ask I would have. You have to believe me.”

You did believe him. It was unfair of you to blame him for not coming to you, but you still couldn’t help how angry you were at him. It was fucked up but you just felt so… fucked over by him. It was so wrong and you knew it but you couldn't help being mad that he didn’t think more about your feelings. You knew it wasn’t about you and it never was, and yet it still hurt you. Maybe you were just selfish, you weren’t sure. 

“You didn’t even leave me a note, Andy.” Was what you decided on saying. You’d never brought that fact up to anyone, deciding it was too morbid for your mom or Logan or even Harry. But it had always been there, in the back of your mind, gnawing away at the space you used to use for your fond memories of Anders. It’s like with every second you didn’t say anything about it it just continued eating at the image of him you had in your head. Each day that passed just eroded at the soil more and more. “I called and I texted and I showed up to your house… I was the only one who didn’t think I was being irrational. I was worried fucking sick about you for weeks and weeks after the Halloween party, and you couldn’t even write me a fucking su*cide note?”

Saying it out loud like that made your stomach lurch. You were nearly hysterical but you kept talking anyway. 

“I deserved a fucking note, Anders. If you were going to leave me all on my own the least you could’ve done was write me a fucking note. And I know there wasn’t one hidden because I cleaned every square inch of that apartment after I dropped you off at rehab.” You choked back a sob, so upset the phone in your hand shook fiercely against your ear. “There was nothing there, Anders. Nothing. I know I sound selfish and I’m being a brat, but honestly Anders when you… when you took those pills I felt so abandoned by you. How do you think I felt? I know it’s not about me and I’m fucked for feeling that way but I felt like you never even cared about me at all when you did that shit. And I tried ignoring that part, I chalked it up to being bigger than me, but… but I didn’t even get a note? I wasn’t even important enough to you for a note?”

He didn’t say anything, for a long, long time. You both just cried and cried and cried and you wished more than anything you could’ve had this conversation face to face. You wanted to hold him like you did at the hospital. You wanted to play with his hair. You wanted to put a hand on him, just to prove he really was okay.

“There was a note. On my phone.” He whispered after that long, long time had passed. His voice was so quiet you could hardly hear it over your own ragged breath. “There was one for you, and for Rachel. And there was one for my mom. I thought that you guys would, like, go through my phone or whatever, after…”

You opened your mouth but nothing came out. You hated the way your shoulders relaxed, like something had been proven to you by that fact. You hated how relieved you felt. It made you sick.

“You are important to me and you always have been. And I don’t think you’re fucked for feeling that way. I knew you must feel that way and I thought… I thought if I just went back to normal I could make up for it. I thought I’d make it go away.” His breath rattled his chest for a second. “I’m sorry we didn’t talk about this sooner. If I could go back, even to February, I’d do it all differently. I swear on my life I would.”

“I’m so sorry…” Was what you said, unsure what else could fill in the silence. “I shouldn’t have even brought the note thing up, it’s just been.. on my mind, I guess.”

“No, I get it.” He spoke sweetly, voice still soft by the tears mostly gone. “I actually thought about telling you I wrote it a few times, but I didn’t know if you’d even realized and I thought it’d be weird to just randomly tell you…”

He started laughing at that, a real, genuine laugh. You started laughing too, unable to ignore how silly the whole thing was. You wished softly that you’d talked about all of this sooner, but you did your best not to think too much about it. 

“It would’ve been weird, yeah.” You snickered, wiping your nose on the back of your hand. “Imagine we just went out for lunch and you drop that on me over a salad. Like a casual, hey by the way…”

Anders laughed harder, the sound healing some part of you that had snapped during the conversation. “Right like we go out to fucking Bella Vino and I just slide my notes app across the table to you.” He had to stop, cackling with laughter. “Like, I wrote this for you, just so you know.”

“Not the notes app.” You shrieked, wiping at your eyes. 

“You know what they say, right? The only thing better than a notes app apology…”

You both giggled a while longer, eventually sighing exhausted and overwhelmed but somehow peaceful. 

“You know you’re important to me, right?” Anders asked once your stomach was sore. “I mean that. You saved my life, Y/N, and I could never, ever…. I could never replace you, or stop caring, or any of that. You saved my fucking life. And I never even said thank you! I never… I’m fucked for that, I know I am. I just didn’t know how I could possibly-“

“You don’t have to thank me.” You assured him. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I owe you my life, man. I owe you everything.” He choked up again, blowing out a deep breath. “Because, you know, I bitch a lot to Harry, and this has been the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done, but.. but I’m really happy I’m alive. I’m so happy I’m alive.“ He stopped again, giggling. He sounded like a little kid. “I got to watch a movie with my dad because I’m alive. I owe you for that, big time.”

///

The rest of the conversation went easily after that, or at least easier. You talked more about everything, both of you letting out everything you’d been meaning to. For as scared as you were of this inevitable conversation, it really wasn’t as hard as you expected once the first bit was over. 

The topics floated around elsewhere, too. Anders caught you up on how life with his parents had been and even told you a bit more about his relationship with his mom in particular. He told you stories from his childhood about being locked out of the house for a day and a half because his mom was mad at him or not being able to go on a feild trip in eighth grade because “she thought he liked his friends at school more than her”. He told you about Jena, too, more than he ever had before. He told you how she used to force him to have sex or literally push his head down to snort pills off the coffee table even when he said no. He told you how he still had panic attacks every single time he took a shower. He couldn’t wear wet clothes, either, like if it was raining or his sleeve got damp in the sink. “It makes me feel like I’m dying.” He told you. “One time I got caught in the rain and I was so upset I threw up in a parking lot.”

Harry walked in as Anders finished a story about his sixth grade band recital, a plate of scrambled eggs and a bagel set on your lap. You asked Anders if he wanted to say hello, but he politely declined.

“I just want to talk to you for a while.” He’d said. “I’ll call Harry later today.”

And so you told him everything, too. You told him about what happened with Christian and the nightmares (which he did not take well, by the way). You told him that you also hated taking showers at home because it reminded you of what happened. You both shared song recommendations that you used on your shower playlists that made it a little bit easier. 

///

By the time you made your way downstairs, Harry had already cleaned up from breakfast, folded your clothes in the dryer, and was neck deep in your old guest bedroom. 

He turned to look over his shoulder as you walked in behind him, smiling broadly. He had your suitcases dumped out onto the floor, though most of their contents was already scattered around the room. 

“There you are!” He beamed, setting a tube of mascara in a pile he’d set aside for makeup. “I was starting to miss you.”

“I got distracted talking to Andy.” You brushed off, sitting down next to him where you could find the smallest amount of clear floor. “We got into a fight.”

Harry furrowed his brow, setting a pair of socks into the sock pile. “A fight? What about?”

“About you.” You teased. Harry snapped his head to look at you, mouth falling open.

“Did I do something?” He asked, abandoning the t-shirt in his hands. You only smiled, shaking your head.

“No, no.. I’m just kidding.” You laughed, “I kind of told him off for calling you all the time instead of me.”

He didn’t laugh with you. “Baby, you should’ve told me it bothered you.” He began, putting a hand on your cheek. “I didn’t know…”

“It’s okay!” You insisted. “I was feeling kind of bitter but we talked about it and it’s okay. I was just jealous, I guess.”

“You were jealous?”

You paused. “Yeah, kind of.” You admitted, taking Harry’s hand in yours and pulling it off your cheek and into your lap. “I felt like you guys were closer than me and him, and… I don’t know. He called and told me I was his best friend and I kind of lost it on him.”

“But you are his best friend?” Harry responded, confused and looking guilty. “I could’ve told you that. He tells me every day he doesn’t like me as much as you.”

You smiled, maybe a little bit too satisfied. “I am his best friend.” You agreed.

Harry smiled, confused. “Okay?”

“We’re good now, though. Like, actually.” You said, picking up a pair of leggings out of the mess and throwing it in the clothes pile. “We finally talked about everything.”

Harry followed your lead and grabbed your lap top off of the floor and set it on the bed. “You did?” He beamed, nudging your shoulder with his own. “That’s awesome, sunflower. I’m really happy you guys did that.”

“Me too. He said he’s call you later today.”

Harry picked up a bottle of lotion out of the pile, revealing how it had leaked out onto everything below it. He closed his eyes, sighing. 

“You know you don’t have to live like this, right?” He nagged. “You’re lucky that didn’t get all over your laptop. Which shouldn’t have been on the floor anyway.”

“It’s fine.”

“Yeah, well if you’re going to be living with me you need to start living like a real person.” He rasped, rubbing his brow. He stopped suddenly, realizing what he’d said. “Not that you live here now, or anything. I just mean since you’re gonna stay here for a while. You don’t have to live out of suitcases.”

You shrugged, brushing off the exchange about the living situation. “I like living out of suitcases. I’m used to it.”

“Well you don’t have to do that anymore.”

“It’s not a big deal…”

It was quiet for a second, you still helping Harry clean your disaster of a bedroom despite you saying it wasn’t an issue. Harry stopped after a minute or two. 

“Is there a reason you don’t want to move your stuff into our room?” He questioned, looking you in the eyes. You frowned, stunned. 

“I just haven’t gotten around to it.” You said honestly. Harry knew that, the two of your spending nearly every second of every day together. “You know how I am about cleaning.”

Harry didn’t laugh at your joke, just nodding along. “Feels like you have one foot out the door.” He mumbled, chucking a pair of shoes into the shoe pile with a bit of extra frustrated force. 

You looked at him, but he just kept organizing. You thought about what he’d said, realizing how it must look from his perspective. Your suitcases were literally still packed.

You thought about his conversation with Anders the other night, how Harry had told him how afraid he was that you would change your mind or leave. You picked up a pair of jeans. 

“Do you think you have room in your dresser for my stuff to go in there?” You asked, folding the pants carefully. “We could probably move everything to our room before lunch, if you think we can make space.”

Harry whipped his head around, ignoring your question. “Really?”

You furrowed your brows. “Yes?”

“You want to put it all in our room?”

“Yeah, I do.” You answered honestly. It would be nice to not have to go down the hall every time you needed socks, anyway. “Do you think it will all fit?”

Harry leaped up, a ridiculous kind of look on his face as he cheesed down at you. 

“Yes!” He squeaked. “Yeah, I can make room! I can go move some stuff right now!”

“Okay. Awesome.” You commented, just looking up at him. You couldn’t help smiling just as goofily as he was. “Do you want help?”

He looked back and forth for a second, running his fingers through his hair. “No, no, I’m good. I’ll just move some shit and you stay here and get your stuff ready, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t leave, though, just staring at you. His legs were wiggling with nervous excitement.

“This is great.” He said, letting out a giggle. He covered his mouth, trying to force the smile off of his face and failing. “This makes me really happy, Y/N. Thank you.”

You crinkled your nose at him. “You don’t need to thank me, you pest.”

He continued staring at you for a second, his smile now a permanent fixture on his face. He knelt beside you, pulling your face to his with a hand on either cheek. 

“I love you so much.” He gushed into the kiss, hands clammy. “I love you. Thank you.”

“I love you more.” You promised, pulling away from the kiss with a smile of your own. “Now go get ready for all my junk, okay?”

He stood again, his entire body tense and excited and giddy. “Okay! Yeah, okay.. I’m gonna go do that.” He turned to leave, looking back at you every step or two to give you another grin. “I’ll be in our room if you need me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

And then he left the room, his giggling following him down the hall. “Let’s fucking go!” He said to himself, his footsteps in the pattern of a little happy skip. “Let’s fucking go!”.

///

You weren’t done by lunch time, the entire ordeal becoming much more of  a thing than you’d expected. You sorted through all of Harry’s shit, him deciding what items he wanted to move out of the closet to make room for your own. He threw sweaters you’d seen him wear in paparazzi photos onto the bed, discarded as if you hadn’t memorized the patterns staring at those pictures of him while you were broken up. “I never fucking wear this.” He said, throwing another jacket onto the bed. “Or this. Or this.”

You watched him take nearly all of his clothes across the hall to another empty bedroom, leaving them on the bed in there to be put away later. He took out things you’d seen him wear within the week, insisting he hadn’t worn them in years and didn’t mind them being in the other room. You didn’t argue with him on any of it, his mood so bubbly and excited and just about over the moon. You hadn’t seen him this excited, even the night you first got back together. He talked the entire time, going on and on about how happy he was and all of his plans for your new room you’d be sharing. 

“We can paint the walls yellow, too, since that’s your favorite.” He was saying, taking the last load of  clothes out of his dresser. “I’ve been meaning to paint the walls in here anyway.”

“You definitely don’t have to do that.” You’d laughed, thinking he was kidding. He just looked at you like you were crazy. 

“You don’t like yellow anymore?”

“I do, I just don’t want you to have to-”

“It’s fine.” He cut you off. “I want it to feel like your room, too.”

You didn’t say anything for a second, just looking at him. He looked so in love. You smiled, nodding. “We can paint it together, then.”

He grinned back at you, shoulders relaxing. “Yes! Wouldn’t that be fun?” He gushed, back to his rambling now. “We could buy a new duvet, too. We could hang up some of the paintings Andy’s done for you, too! And all your awards can go over here if we add a shelf.”

You didn’t say anything about the fact that Harry most certainly wouldn’t hang any of his own awards in his bedroom and that you didn’t want to do that, either, just letting him continue. You just listened to him talk, believing everything he said and every promise he made. You wanted to kiss him, so you did, over and over and over. Before you knew it, you had moved everything onto his room and the two of you were picking out a new silk duvet cover online. It had tiny flowers on it. 

///

You didn’t get around to lunch until after 3, the two of you close to starvation by the time you’d finished up everything upstairs. You sat on some stools at the kitchen island, scarfing down the Thai food you’d had ordered in. You were almost done with your entire plate when Bethany called you. 

“Hey Beth!” You chirped, Harry’s good mood infecting you and making everything seem a little more sparkly. “What’s up?”

She sighed. Bad sign.

“Have you been on the internet at all today?” She asked, not bothering with niceties. 

You paused, looking over at Harry who was just as confused as you. You set your phone down on the counter, turning it on speaker. 

“I haven’t really been on since early this morning.” You explained. “Why, what’s up?”

“Well, its officially happened. Cats out of the bag.”

You relaxed, realizing what she meant. “Oh, yeah. I saw everything with Logan and Rachel already.” You explained. “Logan texted me this morning to talk about it.”

Bethany let out a short laugh. “Nope, not that Peach. Try again.”

Your breathing stopped for a second, your head whipping to look at Harry the same moment his turned to face you. You had matching expressions on your faces, eyes wide and eyebrows bunched together. Harry leaned towards the phone, speaking.

“What do you mean, Bethany?” He asked, his plate pushed away with the back of his hand. 

“Harry, great. I’m glad you’re here.” Bethany went on. She had that tone to her voice right now that she always had when she was really, really pissed. Not at you, but at everything else. It was the way she talked after meetings with Tom, or when someone posted something about you online that was particularly searing. “You should be here for this so you can reiterate all of this to Jeff.”

Oh, fuck. You looked back at him, mouth opening and closing over and over again but no words actually coming out. Harry looked just as dumb and confused as you felt. Finally he spoke. 

“What happened?”

His expression changed into the kind he always got when he talked about work. (You selfishly hated that version of him, the one who was all serious and analytical. It didn’t feel like him.)

“Well, Harry, your girlfriend wore your pants on Jimmy Fucking Fallon.” She snipped, sighing. You knew she wasn’t mad at you two, but you still felt like a child being chastised. “And you have a scuff on your wall.”

“What the fuck are you taking about?�� You asked, put opened on your stomach. 

“Well,” (You could envision her pulling glasses off the top of her head, sliding them down her nose.) “Aubrey on Twitter says, ‘Y/N was literally wearing Harry’s pants on Fallon tonight I’m gonna kms.’ And attached is a picture of you, my dear, wearing some black sweats and another picture of Harry last week on BBC wearing the same ones.”

You looked at each other, mouths agape. 

“How do they know we don’t have the same pants?” You asked. You were trying not to panic yet, remembering how Beth had always been the one to brush off incidents like this. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yeah, except there’s a stain on the back.” She explained. “A big white splotch on the butt. Paint, or something.”

Harry groaned, leaning his head onto the counter and banging his fist once in defeat. He stayed like that for a second before sitting back up, his head in his hands. 

“Andy and I got into a paint fight.” He started, voice small.

“A paint fight?” You asked incredulously. “What even is that?”

“Well, babe, it’s a lot like a fight but with paint involved.” He snipped back at you. “I should’ve remembered. I was so pissed he ruined those pants…”

You just shook your head, mimicking Harry and throwing your head into your hands. 

“What about the scuff on the wall?” You asked, remembering that other detail. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well it’s in the same spot in every single interview the two of you have done the last month.”

Of fucking course it was. You grumbled, laying your head down completely. You’d spent so much time picking an inconspicuous place to set up your camera, and this was still happening. 

“So everyone has put it together, then?” Harry asked. 

“Yup.” Bethany answered. “And there’s no denying it. I mean, we can say you aren’t a couple… We can say whatever you want, but there’s no denying that you’re living together. Everyone knows it. And, now that they have that, they’re putting everything else together, too.”

Harry shook his head, eyes closing. “But is it like, a couple people saying this? Or is it, like, everyone?”

“Well you're trending on Twitter. Right under Rachel.” 

It was quiet for a second, the three of you all waiting for someone else to pipe up. It gave you enough time, in the three or so seconds it was silent, to make up your mind. 

Harry needed to know you meant it. He needed to know you weren’t going anywhere. You’d already moved your clothes out of their suitcases and you promised to meet his mom, and there was only one more thing to do. There was only one more thing you could do to prove you meant it. 

“I’m happy this is happening.” You said out loud, unsure if Harry would feel the same considering but taking a chance. You watched his face out of the corner of your eye. “I… I don’t want it to be a secret anymore. I want everyone to know.”

Harry snapped around to look at you, expression unreadable. 

“As long as Harry is okay with that.” You added, adding some cushioning in case this went sour. “I’m okay with it, though. I’m excited, actually.”

It was true. You’d spent so much time forced to keep it a secret that you’d forgotten that wasn’t ever what you wanted at all. Bethany still sounded just as stressed when she spoke. 

“You guys can talk about it. And Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“You need to talk to Jeff. Once you guys talk let me know and we’ll go from there.”

He agreed, both of you saying your goodbyes to Beth before hanging up. You pressed the big red button, waiting a beat before looking up at Harry. 

“So…” You started, not able to get much further before Harry cut you off.

“Did you mean that?” He asked, eyes cautious. “About wanting everyone to know? You meant that?”

You nodded weakly. “We’re only supposed to say the stuff we mean, right?”

He looked at you a beat before realization set in and his face broke out into a smile, a giggle ripping through the tension around you. 

“Really?”

“Really.”

He sprang foreword, kissing you firmly in the mouth. He held your face the way he always did lately, a hand on either cheek. He mumbled into your mouth, too, the way he’d been keen to do lately. 

“I fucking love you. I love you.” He rushed out, biting your lip. “I’m so happy. I’m so fucking happy.”

You kissed him back, telling him you were too. You were too. You were too. 

“We can go on a date now.” He went on. “I can take you to get that spaghetti I was telling you about, after everything opens again. You’ll love it, it’s the best spaghetti I’ve ever had I swear to God. We won’t have to lie to anyone anymore.”

You, out of nowhere, felt your eyes grow hot with tears. You didn’t say anything else, just continuing to kiss him. You hoped if you kissed him enough times he would just know everything you wanted to say this whole time. Your dirty dishes still sat on the counter, forgotten. 

///

A few days later, Anders woke up on a Sunday in the best mood he’d been in for days. 

Since his conversation with Y/N he’d felt a weight lifted off of his shoulders, but rehashing everything that way adding an entirely different kind of pressure. But today was Sunday, and Sunday’s were good.

On Sunday’s, his parents left the house to go to church. His parents, even in the pandemic, still went and sat with everyone else who was too stupid to stay out of large crowds, and even though that should’ve annoyed him Anders loved it. He didn’t care if his parents brought the virus home. The possibility of dying was worth the 180 minutes he got to spend without them in the house. (His mom no longer asked him to go with them. She actually still hadn’t said a single word to him since he’d gone to Matt’s house).

Anders threw open his door once he heard the car roll out of the driveway, feeling as if he had the entire world at his fingertips. He was wearing a pair of sweats, the same ones he’d had on for 6 days, not bothering to put on a shirt before bouncing down to the kitchen. 

His plans for breakfast were foiled as soon as he turned the corner. 

“Hey son!” His dad smiled brightly, standing over the stove. He was just pulling out a pan, a carton of eggs out on the counter. “I thought I was gonna have to wake you up.”

“Why are you here?”

He knew he should’ve said something else, but it’s all he could think. In the last 24 years he’d never once seen his dad skip church. Ever.

“I wanted to have breakfast with you.” He said simply. “Are you hungry at all?”

Anders just shook his head. “But it’s Sunday.”

“We can’t have breakfast on a Sunday?”

Anders laughed, deciding to sit in one of the kitchen chairs. He realized that he wasn’t actually upset his dad was here. 

“I figured you’d be at church is all.” He explained. “Im starving though.”

His dad just smiled. “Fantastic. Do you want bacon, too?”

Anders, suddenly, was bombarded by memories of Christmas morning when his dad would always make bacon after the gifts were opened. He stopped doing that when Anders was in middle school, but he could still smell it when he really tried. Back before everything was bad all the time. 

“Fuck yeah.” Anders said, knowing his dad would chastise him for that but not able to resist pissing his parents off even when he didn’t want to. It was a defect of his he couldn’t help.

His dad turned to look at him, mouth pinched to hide a grin. “Fuck yeah.” His dad agreed, the word sounding bizarre coming out in his voice. Anders threw his head back in a howl of laughter, tears accumulating.

“Did you just say fuck? My father, the Saint?”

His dad was giggling now, the sound almost identical to Anders' own laugh. He’d never noticed that before. “Fuck yeah I did.” He said, only causing them both to giggle harder. 

“Fuck yeah, dad! Let it out!”

“Fuck yeah!”

“You can do better than that”

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck yeah!!!”

Anders was in fucking stitches, his sides literally pinching his ribs as he died laughing. 

“Feels good doesn’t it?” He asked. His dad nodded enthusiastically. 

“It feels good.” He agreed, pulling a pack of bacon out of the fridge. “Feels fucking good.”

“I'm surprised you chose a Sunday to say your first curse with me, dad.” Anders joked. “I'm surprised you’re here at all.”

“Well I am, aren’t I?”

“Just figured you’d be, like, praising the son of god right now. Or whatever.”

His dad was quiet for a second, using the same scissor he always used when Anders was baby Anderson to open the bacon. 

“I have my own son to worry about.” He said quietly, looking over his shoulder. He smiled shyly. “You ever make bacon before?”

Of course he had. Everyone had. But for some reason Anders shook his head. 

“Can you show me?”

His dad smiled even bigger now. “Yeah! Of course I can! Grab the tongs out of the drawer over there and I’ll get us started.”

“Okay.”

Anders did what he said and grabbed the tongs. He stood next to his dad, feeling awkward but also strangely good. He was almost as tall as his dad. The last time he’d watched his dad cook he had to stand on a chair. Part of him wanted to stand on a chair anyway, just for old times sake. Or maybe he just wanted to feel like baby Anderson again. Baby Anderson never had a care in the world. Baby Anderson’s parents were always crazy about him. 

“Moms gonna be pissed at you, huh?” Anders asked, laughing lightly but meaning it. His dad shrugged, turning on one of the burners. 

“She can be mad at both of us, then.” He as all he said. “So now we have to wait for the pan to get hot…”

///

“How much shit do you own?” Logan asked, a hand over her eyes to block out the sun above her. Rachel was grabbing another box out of her Range Rover, hobbling up the steps to the door. 

“You could help me.” Rachel squeaked, barely managing to make it inside before the box slipped from her fingers. Logan shut the door behind them both, coming up to take Rachel by the waist. 

“Why don’t you just stop for a while?” She whispered, pressing a kiss to her girlfriends hair. “Let’s relax. I miss you.”

Rachel only blushed, as always, pushing her hair behind her ears. “I have a lot to unpack.”

“You can unpack tomorrow.”

Rachel looked around the living room, full of boxes and suitcases and all sorts of junk. It was a fucking disaster in here. Rachel’s house, or her parents house, technically, was never dirty. Ever. 

Rachel thought maybe she liked it being dirty. She threw the bag off of her shoulder she’d grabbed from the car, letting it land right in middle of the floor. Her heart beat funny at the thought that she’d just leave it there, right in middle of the walkway. 

“Tomorrow.” She agreed, leaning into Logan. Logan chirped triumphantly, immediately pulling Rachel to the couch. They both laughed together, happy. 

The house was a nightmare, Rachel’s parents wouldn’t talk to her, and she didn’t know what the fuck she was going to do when the pandemic ended and she had to go back to work. She didn’t feel like taking pictures anymore, or doing her hair every time she left the house. She didn’t want to hang out with Margot or Kira, ever again. She had a millions things running through her head, all of them spiraling and twisting and bumping into each other until she couldn’t make sense of a single second of it. For some reason she didn’t mind though. 

“You know I was never allowed to have short hair.” She said without knowing why. Logan hummed. “I’ve always wanted to cut it.”

Logan sprang off the couch. “Babe! I used to go to beauty school! I’m, like, so good at cutting hair!”

“You did?”

Logan frowned, her nose scrunching up in the way that always made Rachel feel especially soft. “Well, I went for like a week before I quit. But I am really good at cutting hair! I swear!”

This wasn’t entirely true. Logan had enrolled in beauty school, but never actually went. And she was only decent at cutting hair, at best.

But Rachel couldn’t give a fuck if she was any good at it. “Okay.” She agreed, standing. “Do you think it’ll look good?”

Logan nodded frantically. “Of course! You know what, I’ll cut mine first so you can make sure you like it. Then you can decide.”

Rachel was objecting the best she could but Logan was already in the kitchen, scissors in hand. 

(The scissors, funnily enough, we’re the exact same pair Andy’s dad always used for the bacon on Christmas morning.)

Before Rachel could even catch up Logan grabbed a fist full of hair, lobbing it all of just under her chin. Her eyes widened as the blonde strands scattered on the floor. Then, she started laughing. And so did Rachel. 

They both laughed until they were crying, making their way to the bathroom with Logan’s hair half to her waist and half to her chin. It only took an hour or so for both of them to be made over, making eye contact through the mirror. Both with matching hair cuts, both equally as drastic. They looked fine, but not great. 

“I love it.” Rachel beamed, eyes teary again for a whole new reason. “I love it.”

She shook her head around, watching the bob swing around her face. She looked like a completely different person, someone she’d never met before. She loved it. 

“It looks amazing!!” Logan screeched, excitedly bouncing around. “This is amazing!!!”

///

“I didn’t know you had so many tattoos.” Anders’ dad said through a mouthful. 

Anders shrugged. “I did that on purpose.” He said honestly, referring to his mostly blank arms and covered chest. (Not covered, but he had a few.)

“They’re cool.” His dad said, making Anders furrow his brow in surprise. “I always wanted to get a tattoo.”

He couldn’t help snorting. This was the best day he’d had in as long as he could remember. Maybe his whole life. “I can’t imagine you with a tattoo.”

“I’ve still got time.” His dad grinned, taking another bite. “Maybe I’ll get one.”

“I’ll take you to get one.” Anders offered, saying it like a joke but not at all kidding. “You could get a face tat, dad. You’d look so fucking sick.”

His dad just shook his head. “What’s that one?” He questioned, pointing to the mysterious blob on his torso. It was on his ribs, just under his heart. 

“It was supposed to be a frog.” Anders laughed. “My friend Y/N did it.”

“With a tattoo gun?”

“With a needle.”

His dad didn’t tell him off like he was expecting. “What’s she like?”

His parents never asked about his friends. They’d always hated his friends growing up. 

“She’s fuckin sick.” Anders answered, realizing they’d both finished their plates but weren’t getting up. “She’s my best friend.”

“Maybe I can go see her show one day.” His dad said casually. “Or am I too old for that?”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? You could totally go!” Anders gushed. He imagined it, his dad bobbing awkwardly along like dads do. “You could come see Harry, too.”

“Could I come see you?” His dad asked, making Anders’ heart skip a beat. He’d never invited his parents to a show, figuring they wouldn’t want to go. His mom definitely wouldn’t. 

“Of course you could.” Anders said. He felt his face get hot. “It would actually mean a lot to me, dad. If you came, I mean.”

His dad smiled to himself, shaking his head. “I can’t believe my kids a rockstar. That’s pretty cool, huh?” His dad chuckled for a second. “Sorry. That’s pretty fucking cool, isn’t it?”

The praise made him embarrassed. “It’s alright.”

“I always wanted to be a rockstar.” His dad mused. He almost didn’t even look like his dad right now. He looked younger somehow. More like a person. “Like Jimi Hendrix, you know? I used to be pretty good at the guitar. Not that good, but I think you’d be impressed if you heard it. I was never as good as you, though.”

For some reason Anders wanted to cry. For every reason and no reason. His dad wanted to be a rockstar. His dad used to be young. He used to want things. He used to have dreams. He felt overwhelmed by the realization that he’d lived an entire life before Anders was born, and part of himself hated the other for ruining his dad's plans. Maybe that was why neither of them liked him for so long. 

“I love you, Dad.” Anders said, immediately feeling the need to cry multiply at the embarrassment of saying that out loud. “Thank you for making me breakfast.”

His dad smiled, speechless for a second. “I love you so much, son.” He spoke, his face growing warm in a similar pattern to Anders’. “I always did, even before I met you.”

Anders started crying. His dad stood up, pulling Anders to stand with him. He wrapped him up in his arms and baby Anderson was crying, too. 

“I’m gonna fix this. The best I can.” His dad spoke, voice sounding strained through all the sincerity. “We can have breakfast again next week, okay? It can be our thing.” 

Anders wiped his eyes. “Won’t mom start to get upset if you don’t go to church?” 

His dad wanted to say something, but he didn’t. He shook his head, staying quiet for a long time but not letting his son out of his grip. “I have done this entire thing wrong, for a long time.” He said finally. He gestured between father and son, nearly identical copies of each other. He stopped, shrugging his shoulders. They slanted at the same angle as Anders’. “If your mother wants to be mad at me for fixing my mistakes, she can be. I’m done making her mistakes with her.” He cleared his throat again. “One day she’ll come around. I know she will.”

Anders just nodded, understanding. He didn’t believe what his dad said about his mom, but he believed the rest. He was still sniffling like a child. The front door opened, signaling the end of the moment. Anders quickly rubbed his face clean. 

“I’m gonna go.” Anders told him, hating his mom extra for ruining the only good thing that had ever happened to him. His dad nodded knowingly, looking just as upset as Anders did. “I’ve got, like, four guitars in my room if you ever want to borrow one.”

“Okay, son.” His dad smiled, staying put while Anders tip toed out. Just when he was about to reach the living room his dad called his name, making him pause. “I think we should go get those tattoos. If you want another one.”

Anders laughed, resisting the urge to look to his left where his mother was setting down her purse and kicking off her heels. She didn’t look at him either. 

“That sounds fucking sick, Dad. You just say the word.”

///

On Sunday, after Anders had made his breakfast with his dad and Logan had cut her hair and Rachel had moved everything she’d ever owned into her new home, Harry was having an equally as exciting day. 

He walked down the stairs, having slept in way later than he ever did. He’d been a little miffed when he’d checked his phone, realizing you’d let him spend half his day sleeping. He’d grunted, sitting up. The windows were open, and it smelled like spring today. It felt like spring all over, really, in a way he couldn’t even explain. 

By the time he’d made his way to the stairs his bad mood had vanished. He couldn’t be in a bad mood these days if he’d wanted to. How could he be mad at Y/N for letting him sleep in when she was here? How could he be mad at anything when she was here?

Even when he’d heard the voices coming from the lower level of the house as he descended the stairs, he still wasn’t mad. Worried, obviously. But still in a good mood. 

“What is happening?” He grumbled, rubbing the sleep from the corners of his eyes. The entire house looked like it had been ransacked, things missing and random men wearing masks walking around. It was more like the opposite of a robbery, Harry noticed, seeing the boxes and random pieces of furniture scattered around. He came to his senses, slowly but surely, taking it all in. 

“Baby!!” Y/N shouted, rushing over to him. Before Harry could speak at all she’d covered his eyes with one of her tiny hands, using her other to grip his t-shirt firmly. “You’re not supposed to be awake yet!”

Harry pushed her hand away softly, looking around the room. He took in her subtle disappointment, her lower lip sticking out ever so slightly. (Upon seeing that he actually had to hop off his train of thought to take it between his own lips for a moment). He cleared his sleepy throat. 

“What is going on?” He asked again, trying to force both of his eyes to open as he squinted at his girlfriend. She sighed, frowning. 

“It was a surprise.” She huffed, crossing her arms. She shook her head, disappointed. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t sleep long enough.”

Harry couldn’t help leaning down and kissing her again, longer this time. He kissed her until she let out that breath she was always holding, her feet relaxing off their tippy toes so she could give all of her attention to him. Harry loved the way she always did that, he thought. He should tell her how nice it is. 

Harry forgot about the commotion around them, stopping the conversation entirely for a second to tell Y/N that he loved her so, so, so much. It was true, more so today than ever before. As he continued to kiss her he whispered all the things he’d missed out on saying by staying asleep for so long. He’d wasted so much time, he thought. He could’ve had, like, four more hours with her than he did if he’d woken up earlier. He brushed her hair away from her face, deciding that he wouldn’t tell her about that little breath-holding thing she did when he kissed her just in case she thought too much about it and stopped doing it. He’d die if she stopped doing it, he thought. He knew he would. 

“It’s already 10:30.” He said finally when Y/N pulled away from him all too soon to continue pouting. “How late was I supposed to sleep?”

“At least until 12.” She answered seriously, making Harry’s eyes pinched shut with laughter. He didn’t expect her to actually have had a time in mind. “I purposefully kept you up until, like, 3 just so you would sleep in.”

She never ceased to amaze him. “You fuckin’ what?” He giggled, overwhelmed in that moment by how much he loved her. He was so overwhelmed with gratitude towards the universe that he almost felt choked up. 

“I had a whole thing planned….” She sighed, shaking her head. “Anders said it wouldn’t work but I just thought….”

Holy shit. “Did you ask Anders to call me last night and keep me up?”

“Yeah. He said he kept you as long as he could…”

Harry couldn’t fucking believe his ears. It was all too perfect. Maybe he was just so delirious with affection that he was missing something, but to him this seemed like the funniest thing in the world. Men still wandered about, moving shit here or there and yelling across the room to each other. Harry didn’t even hear them. 

“What was the master plan, huh?” Harry asked, completely oblivious but not even minding it. 

“The plan was to keep you up as long as I could before having Anders call you and keep you up longer so I could sleep and wake up early and you’d be extra sleepy.”

(Harry had spoken to Andy for three and a half hours last night. About literally nothing. Harry figured Anders was in one of those moods where he just didn’t want to be alone and he’d forced himself to stay up as long as he could so he could be there for him. Turns out it was just a silly little trick and not a mental breakdown at all, which was nice.)

“And why am I supposed to be so sleepy?” Harry asked, pulling Y/N into his chest. He looked around again, realizing it wasn’t just new furniture being delivered here but Y/N’s furniture from home. Y/N’s makeup table. Her bean bag chair she never let anyone else but him use. A box with Logan’s handwriting on the side labeled ‘winter clothes’. He looked closer, realizing all at once what was going on. “What’s happening?” He asked again before Y/N could answer his first question. He pushed her back so he could see her face, heart beating erratically. “What is all of this?”

Y/N just huffed. “It’s my stuff from home. Or some of it, at least.” 

Harry heard himself gasp, Y/N confirming what he already knew. He looked around again, and it was true. It was her stuff from home. 

“I was going to ask if it was okay, but then I just decided to go for it. It was supposed to be a surprise once everything was, like, unpacked and everything…” She grimaced, eyeing Harry nervously. “You’re mad, aren’t you? I know I should’ve asked, I just got carried away-“

“Mad?” Harry laughed, both hands coming to cover his mouth as he looked around. He let his head fall forward, his eyes closing. He recovered, looking up again. “This is all your stuff?”

“Most of it.” She nodded, looking uneasy. “Is that okay? I just thought since we’re moved in together…”

“Moved in together?”

“No, I mean- I just meant-“ Her cheeks flushed bright red, her eyes widening. Harry also loved it when she did that, when she got super embarrassed and made that face she always made. He didn’t tell her how much he loved that, either, just so she would always do it. “Like, living together.”

He couldn’t believe his fucking eyes. She’d had all of this shit brought to fucking London from LA, she’d gone through the trouble of getting her own movers and even conspired against Harry so he’d be surprised when it was all done. She brought winter clothes. For winter. He couldn’t help it when his eyes started to sting and he teared up. His throat was tight suddenly. 

“This is amazing, baby.” He choked out, smiling the best he could at her. Her shoulders relaxed, her own smile replacing the worry on her face. “I… I can’t believe you did all of this.”

“I was so worried you’d be mad.” She gasped, taking a deep breath as she deflated. She giggled, relieved. “I was up all night getting ready and I almost called the whole thing off….”

“How early were you awake?” Harry asked incredulously. It was all too good to be true. 

“I told Anders to call me thirty minutes after you guys got off the phone and you were out like a light.” She admitted, looking embarrassed though Harry couldn’t for the life of him understand why. “So like, 3:45 I think. Somewhere around there.”

Harry choked on his next breath, having to turn away for a second to compose himself. He was still a mess when he turned around to face the amazing, chaotic, beautiful girl before him. He pulled her back to him, hugging her tightly. He felt like a little kid on Christmas. 

“Thank you.” He whispered, burrying his face in his hair. She did the thing she always did where she tells him not to thank her, but he did the thing he always did and ignored her. “This means so much to me, baby. This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done.”

She didn’t say anything else, just taking his face and pulling his mouth to hers. He loved the way she kissed him, he thought. Like she was trying to tell him something. 

“Now you’re stuck with me.” She snickered into his lips, thinking she was being cheeky. But as she said it all Harry could think was that this meant she really was going to stay. She wasn’t going anywhere, at least until winter. He choked back the emotion that threatened to bring him to his knees, pushing his hands into Y/N’s hair as he kissed her. He kissed her the way she always did, like she was telling him something. And with every kiss Harry was saying to her, in his own silent way, everything he’d ever wanted to. 

Thank you for not leaving me, he told her. Thank you for being the person who stuck around. Thank you for waiting for me. Thank you for forgiving me. Thank you for letting me grow when I needed to. Thank you for loving me even when you hated me. Thank you for being here. Thank you for bringing winter clothes. Thank you for making me feel like Harry, without the rest. Thank you for staying. Thank you for staying. Thank you for staying. I love you, I love you, I love you. 

And then Y/N did that thing she always did where she gasped for breath between kisses, thinking Harry didn’t hear the way she had to gulp for air. He thought about slowing down, about letting her catch her breath, but he selfishly liked the way she gasped like that. He liked everything about her. He liked the way she gasped and the way she said his name and the way she would say “pleeeease” when he had her really wound up. He liked the way her hands felt on his stomach. He liked the way her legs felt over his, the way her stomach moved when she breathed really hard. He liked the way her cheeks started to turn pink all the way up to her ears and down her neck. 

“Come here.” He mumbled to her, trying to maintain the kiss as he pulled her through the mess towards the stairs. They both stumbled their way across, tripping over a box they hadn’t noticed. It only took them a second to be wound together again, tumbling up the stairs like they were drunk or high or dizzy. 

“You know I love you, right?” Y/N panted, reaching for the doorknob behind her. Harry had his hands around her waist, keeping her against him. He moved his kisses to her neck, mumbling an mhmm. 

“Tell me again so I don’t forget.” He pleaded, throwing the door closed behind them once they’d made their way into the room. “Tell me again.”

“I love you.” She whispered. They bumped into the edge of the bed, tumbling onto their new bedspread that had just arrived a few days earlier. 

“Again.”

“I love you.”

Harry pushed her body down so she was laying, situating himself between her legs. His heart was pounding out of his chest, with excitement and an indescribable fondness. He was overwhelmed again by how much he liked her. She smelled like strawberries today, just like the lotion she’d gotten in the mail from her mom. Harry breathed her in, overwhelmed. Forever overwhelmed. 

“I love you, too.” He rasped to her, “You know that, yeah? You know how much I love you?”

“Yes, baby.”

“No you don’t.” He giggled. “You have no idea. No idea.”

He remembered saying something like that to her at the house party a lifetime ago. It was still true. 

Harry realized suddenly why he must have taken her up here. He must have known the entire time what he was about to do. His stomach flipped, considering it. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes extra tight as if to hide himself, though Y/N wouldn’t have noticed. 

“Baby…” He managed to force out, “Sunflower….”

“What baby?” 

He wanted to say it so bad. It was just there, behind his front teeth. His heart stuttered for a second. 

“Can I show you have much I love you, sunflower?” He whispered, not able to say it any louder. “I want to show you how much I love you. I need to show you.”

The sound Y/N made was enough to put Harry in the dirt. She chirped like a little bird, a short giggle following. Everything felt lighthearted and easy. She hummed into the kiss, letting the sound turn into a soft moan. 

“I want you to show me.” She whispered back. “I love you so much, baby. I want you to show me.”

She mumbled it all, broken up between kisses. She told him again that she loved him, saying it over and over again as the curtain next to the bed whipped around in the breeze. Harry believed her entirely, and he was scared and excited and awestruck and giddy all at once. 

He was finally going to do it, he thought to himself. It was finally happening. He thought about backing out again, but Y/N did that thing again where she slides her hand under his shirt and touches his belly. The butterflies under her fingers flapped harder and Harry folded immediately. He was so nervous he almost felt blinded by it. He took a hand and placed it over hers where she touched him, just under the tattoo. 

“I’m nervous.” He said out loud even though he didn’t want to. She tried to remove her hand but he pressed it down harder so it wouldn’t leave. 

“Sorry-“

“I want it there.” He whispered. “I always wanted to tell you I like it when you touch me like that.”

He wanted to keep that to himself, like all the other secret little things she did and had no idea about, but it just came out. He supposed she could know about one of her little things, at least. He could keep everything else for himself, which was more than enough. 

///

It was while you and Harry were whispering all these sweet little things to each other that the world, already turned upside down, flipped even further. Sunday wasn’t over yet, after all, and that same outside force that pushed Rachel to leave her home and cut her hair, the same propulsion that pushed Anders to tell his dad he loved him, the same hand that guided Harry and yourself up the stairs…. It was moving someone else, too. Right to your doorstep. The one in LA, at least. 

That outside force came in the form of a hard knock on the front door of the house you’d paid for but hadn’t been to in weeks. Logan and Rachel were already knee deep in an episode of New Girl, making it a particularly bad time for visitors, even more so than the pandemic. 

Logan shuffled to the door, annoyed. She’d been alone and totally fucking bored out of her mind with nothing to do for weeks but now that Rachel was here she suddenly had a million things that needed her attention. As minor as it was, she was still pissed. 

But when she opened the door, she didn’t know what to feel. Immediately she was hit with the smell of beer and cigarette smoke. She felt everything at once.

“What in the ever living fuck are you doing here?” She asked. The visitor nearly tipped over, eyes glazed. He shrugged. 

“I came to- fucking shit-“ The guest spoke, steadying himself on the wall with an outstretched arm. His hair had grown out since the VMAs, and it looked like shit. “I came to talk to Y/N. Is she here?”

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Molly!

I'm glad that you're back, and that you're feeling better. Missed you!

-xoxo-

Court

COURT IVE MISSED YOU !!!!!!!!! AHHHH !!!!!!!!! Thank you so much !! xxxxx

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molly molly mollyyyy, I was literally thinking about you today and I can’t believe you’re back!! I’m glad you got the help you need 🥺 thank you for coming back to us 🫶

Thank you so much 😭😭 this means so much to me ILYYY! Thank you for having me back!

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OMG I MISSED YOU SO MUCH BESTIE!!! CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR WEDDING!!! IM SO GLADD YOUR BACK AND I CANT WAIT TO READ CH 37 IVE LITERALLY WAITED SO LONG ILYYYYY💘💘😘😘

I KNOW IM SOOOO SORRY I KNOW YALL HAVE BEEN WAITING BUT IM BACK BABY!!!! FEELING SO AMAZING!!!!!!!!! Thank you thank you thank you 😭😭❤️

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HI BESTIES. ITS ME!

I know it’s been a minute, but your girl is back and better than ever!!!

The truth is that I’ve been having my Anders moment fr fr. She’s not been doing good. BUTTTTTTTT I’m clean and I got help and I’ve started a new job and I literally got married?????? I’m feeling much more like my old self and I’m actually excited about writing again. Chapter 37 is done for those of you who are still interested in seeing how BOBH plays out, it just needs to be edited and posted. So think this weekend!

To everyone who messaged me while I was away, THANK YOU. I know I haven’t been responding, but all of the messages have meant a lot while I’ve been kind of going through some stuff. I’m so sorry to everyone who loves or loved this story who’ve been waiting around for me. If I could’ve had things go differently, I would have. ❤️

PLEASE SEND ME BLURB IDEAS ONCE YOU READ 37 SO I CAN KEEP THE MOMENTUM GOING! Love you all sm sm sm!

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Molly! I just discovered the Matilda blurb! Crying over Anders and Harry was not on my agenda for today, but here I am! It was so touching. Loved it!

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! I loved that one sm!! Thank you thank you I’ve missed you so much!!

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will 37 be the last chapter of bobh? 🥺

No! I’m gonna make it an even 40! 😊😊

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molly reply to this ask the same day challenge

STOPBAGDHWJS WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME OUT LIKE THIS

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After the snippets…I can’t! When are you posting it?! 😭😭😭😭

Soon!!!! I’m in Minnesota right now (all by my lonesome 😢) but I’ll be able to work on it when I get home!

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YALL IM LEAVING TOMORROW TO SEE MITSKI LETS FUCKIN GOOOOOO AHHHHHHH

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so what you're saying is that i still have time to challenge him to a duel?

That’s EXACTLY what I’m saying 😏😏

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Miss you darling!

MISS YOU AND LOVE YOU SM <3

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Girrrrrrrrl where chap 37 at…we’re dyingggg

MMMMM LET ME GIVE U A TREAT BESTIE

These are a few random snippets of the newest oneeeeeeee!

Rachel wasn’t a confrontational person.

She couldn’t tell if it was just the fact that she’d been born and raised to sit still, look pretty, and be pleasant, or if that was just her personality. Either way, she had been soft for as long as she could remember. She was kind and nurturing and never raised her voice, but that also meant she was constantly being stepped over, talked over, and told exactly what to do. 

That was one of the many, many reasons she loved Logan so much. She was almost the complete opposite of Rachel; She never held her tongue, she never let anyone step on her toes, and she said what she meant with her chest. She was everything Rachel wanted to be and couldn’t. She was strong and brave and also soft in her own way without being weak. 

For some reason, the news of Harry and Y/N’s inevitable rekindling didn’t bring Rachel the same warm, sappy feelings it did for everyone else. Sure, she was happy for them… But she had to fake the excitement in her voice while she listened to Logan go on and on about how amazing it was that her best friend had finally “gotten the balls” to open up to Harry and fix the “good thing they had”. 

Instead of the warm, bubbling feeling Rachel knew she was supposed to have, she felt something else entirely. Something wicked and foreign and almost sinister. Because you know what? Rachel and Logan had a good thing, too, and yet here they were tiptoeing around and lying and covering up every track they left behind them. Here they were, going on nearly two months without having seen each other. Here they were, happy and in love and almost entirely secret.

She didn’t talk to Logan before she did what she did next. It was almost like she was possessed by someone else, someone like her beautiful, talented girlfriend who was brave and bold and decisive. She hung up the phone, after having spent a better part of an hour insisting that she was over the moon for Y/N when in reality she was feeling quite bitter and jealous and angry, and sat motionless on her bed for another 45 minutes. Then, as if someone else had come to rest their hand on her shoulder, she stood up and walked down the stairs to where she knew her parents were enjoying cocktails and fancy little finger foods. 

(She, as she marched down the marble stairs, thought how interesting it was that her parents were still having guests over in the height of a global pandemic but insisted it wasn’t “safe” for her to go see Logan. Funny, she thought to herself. Hilarious, really! If Rachel didn’t know any better, she'd suspect they had different motives keeping her away from Logan! Imagine that!)

///////////////

You didn’t see the post, or Logan’s texts, or the countless tweets breaking the internet. You were… preoccupied. 

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like that.” Harry praised, running a hand through your hair to rest on the back of your skull. “So fucking pretty. Fucks sake.”

You hummed around him, running your hands up the length of his thighs to rest on the soft part of his hips. Harry was laid back against the headboard, body at a slope while you nestled yourself between his parted thighs. Your head bobbed softly around his length, his hand applying no extra pressure but still making your scalp tingle warmly. You weren’t in any hurry, your movements slow and sleepy and delicate. Harry hummed softly above you, telling you again and again that you were so pretty, so pretty, so fucking good. 

The last few days had gone pretty much like this. You’d wake up wrapped up in Harry’s gangly limbs, kiss his eyelids open, and stay in bed until one of you was desperate enough to go pee or eat. You’d sometimes lay in bed and talk or make out or, on days like this one, you’d shuffle yourself down the length of Harry’s body and take him into your mouth like you were starved. Harry would do the same for you, usually pulling you by your hips up his torso and onto his face or bending his leg just enough so you could situate yourself on top of his tiger tattoo and curl into his chest until you came. 

Life was so good. Everything was perfect. Harry was an angel, as usual. The weather was just right for leaving the windows open. No one texted you or called you about meetings or bothered you. It was just you and Harry and a kind of calm contentment you hadn’t felt in years. 

/////////

He sprang up out of bed, grabbing his car keys and stuffing his feet into the nearest pair of shoes. He sauntered down the stairs, making no attempt to hide his presence. The conversation in the kitchen stopped as both parties watched him. With a captive audience, Anders thought, it was the perfect time to put on the performance of a lifetime. 

“I’m heading out.” He said, spinning the keys around his finger. “Don’t know when I’ll be back.”

Anders, when his mom said nothing, thought he might have actually been hoping she would stop him. She didn’t. 

“I would ask you not to wait up, but seeing as you’ve already eaten I suppose you’re about ready for bed.” He continued. His dad followed him to the door. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” He said, stopping a few feet away from Anders as if he was some feral cat that might be startled away. “We can go grab a bite somewhere. It would be nice to spend some time together.”

Anders actually thought about it. His dad, who his entire life had stood by like some decorative piece of furniture, was finally doing what Anders had always wished he would.

“I’m just going to go do some shopping, but maybe we could watch a movie tomorrow, okay?”

His dad smiled, a real smile, and nodded. “Okay, son.”

“Okay.” He said back. 

Anders gave one last look to his mom, waiting. Any second now she’d say sorry and tell him not to go. She’d tell him at the very least to be careful, or be home by 10. She didn’t. 

“I’ll be home by 10.” He decided for himself. Maybe she’d hold him to it. Maybe she’d call a hundred times if he wasn’t home in two hours. Maybe she’d do what she used to and demand he be home by 9 instead. 

She didn’t say anything. She turned back into the kitchen and continued clanging against the pots and pans she had on the stove. His dad gave him a sad, knowing look, but forced a smile anyway. 

“Call me if you need anything.” He said, giving a quick slap on the shoulder. “I’ll still be up when you get home if you decide you want to hang out. Be safe, okay?”

Anders nodded and because he was possessed by some much more kind hearted spirit tonight he wrapped his arms around his father with an awkward pat-pat on his shoulder blades. His dad took the opportunity to bud him tightly against his chest, even ruffling Anders’ hair the way he had when he was only a kid. 

“I trust you.” He whispered. “And I’m sorry.”

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girlll whats the chapter w the whole harry being mad at himself, at yn, at that girl for not being yn shit like it djsksks me

HMM I have a couple that could be it? If these aren't it lmk and I'll keep looking!

There's chapter 29

(Things had been fine, for a while. He went on living, plowing himself into a girl who was nothing like the one he really wanted and never would be. But it was enough to distract him. It was almost enough to convince himself he was happy.

He had seen Y/N there that night at Christian’s party, but he pretended like he didn’t. So far what he was doing was working and he knew a single second of eye contact would change all of that. He took the model upstairs to Christian’s guest room and fucked her almost until she was begging him to stop, just so he had a reason not to be downstairs. He really did like this girl, really. He just had to remind himself of that sometimes.

But he didn’t love her. He didn’t know why he said that to Y/N when he finally did get to see her again. Maybe because she was so mad at him, and that made him mad back. He didn’t know how else to handle it.)

Or chapter 16

(“And you have to know, I thought about that moment for so many months. I daydreamed about it when you fell asleep on my lap, or touched my hand. I thought about it when I was with her..”

///

“I thought it was over for us, after I tried to kiss you that night. And I tried to be okay with that. I texted some girl I had hooked up with once or twice and told myself I had moved on.”

“So you knew her for a while, then?” You asked. You weren’t angry, only curious. For some reason the tension didn’t seem as suffocating now. You were going to listen to him, really listen, for once.

“Yeah.” He admitted, his face pinching with guilt. “She’s a nice girl and all, but it never turned into anything serious before. I knew she would answer, though, so I just.. picked her. And that was fine for a while. But when everything happened with Christian, I couldn’t think about anything else. I couldn’t keep pretending to be happy with her. I didn’t call you because I was jealous, I didn’t.”

“I know.”

“Then you asked if I loved her and I didn’t. I knew I didn’t. But I was still angry, and I wanted to wrong you the way I felt I’d been wronged. I never loved her. She’s lovely and she’s kind and she’s beautiful, but she’s not you. She never could be.)

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your husband? you guys got married???

TECHNICALLY we’re getting married in October!! I just hate saying fiancé LMAOOOO you got me 🫢🫢

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Just reminiscing about this chapter 🥹

Don’t know if I ever told you guys but the costumes in this chapter were inspired by the costumes me and all of my friends wore a few years ago on Halloween 🥲❤️ I was Columbia obv and my husband was Frank 🥲🥲 and my friends were Janet and Magenta 🥲🥲 I’ve been listening to the Rocky soundtrack all morning and its making me think ab how much I love this story UGH I could cry

Blacking Out and Breaking Hearts - Chapter 21

Blacking Out and Breaking Hearts - Master List

Word Count: 15.6K

Warnings: Y'all know the drill at this point. 18+. Also, super brief mentions of dr*g use.

Summary: Y/N is a successful musician, trying to navigate the world of stardom along with her complicated feelings for her best friend, Harry.

Alternatively: The one with the Halloween Party.

A/N: ARE YOU FINALLY READY FOR THE HALLOWEEN PARTY???? BUCKLE UP!!!!!!!!!!!

I've been DYING to post this part for so long now. I'm so sorry to keep you all waiting for so long. "This is called edging".

PLEASE let me know what you think! Your messages are my favorite part of posting, so please lmk how you liked the chapter. LOVE YOU ALL!! <3

Chapter 21

“Do you want to come get ready over here?” You asked, leaning towards the mirror. Your phone was next to you, lost between all of the brushes and lipsticks and false eyelashes on the counter. Anders hummed thoughtfully through the speaker.

“I’m actually, uh, going out for a bit first.” Anders answered. You could hear his heavy footsteps moving around his apartment. “I’ll just meet you there.”

“Okay.” You answered simply.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, pleased. It was lonely getting ready to go out by yourself. You knew having Anders here would be no replacement for Logan, but still you couldn’t help thinking something was better than nothing. You wanted to listen to the playlist Logan always played when she did her makeup. You wanted to hear her squeal with excitement over your outfit, defying physics as she jumped up and down in her heels. You’d see her soon enough, though, at the Halloween party. You told Anders again how glad you were that he was coming, feeling the familiar twinge of nervousness. It didn’t dull your excitement, though, eager to get out there again. And see Harry, of course.

Harry had been at a meeting all morning, and the few shorts hours that has passed since he left that morning felt like days. The last few days since he’d gotten home had been “off days”, meaning you two had only gotten out of bed to go pee or make something to eat. His hands had barely left your body at all, his fingertips tracing the curve of your spine as you laid on his chest, or twisting your hair like ribbons around his digits.

“I don’t want to go on tour.” You told him one morning. His head was laid on your chest, his eyes barely cracking open at the sound of your voice. You were twisting tiny braids into his hair, his breathing heavy against you. He hadn’t been sleeping well, he’d told you. He'd missed you too much. You knew he wasn’t exaggerating when his eyelids had fluttered closed at your touch, moments away from falling asleep.

“Why not?” He asked, kissing your bare chest right between your breasts as he lifted his head up to see you. “That’s your job.”

You knew he would say that. “I can’t be away from you for that long, H.” You whispered, dropping the tiny braid from your fingers. “I want us to stay like this.”

“Nothing will change, love.” He promised, leaning over your body to kiss your frown. You pouted against his lips. “Come on. It’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll talk to you every day.”

“That’s not enough.” You admitted. Harry smiled, trying to draw you out of the slump you were falling into. “Why can’t we just be normal people? We could get normal jobs and see each other every night when we get home. We could move to the suburbs.”

Harry giggled at your idea. “You’re too talented to be normal.”

He leaned up, kissing you again. You whined at him, still not satisfied with his answer but falling into the kiss anyway. His lips were slow and deliberate, hands tangled into your hair. You brushed your fingers along his jaw, then across the back of his neck. You wanted to freeze time, to stay here just like this forever. Nothing would ever top this.

You were both naked, as you had been the last few days, so it was hard to miss as Harry hardened against you. He wasn’t in a hurry though, tracing the curve of your stomach and across your breasts.

“I can’t believe how much I love you.” He whispered into your neck, placing slow, sweet kisses below your ear. His voice was so quiet it almost seemed like he was speaking to himself.

“I love you, too.”

You whispered it back against his hair. He’d gone slightly scruffy over the course of the last few days, the stubble he’d accumulated tickling your neck where it met your shoulder. He hummed happily into you.

“I love hearing you say that.” He told you, placing a firmer kiss on your mouth. “I love you.” He repeated over and over again, his lips meeting yours between each confession.

There was something about the way the light spread through the bedroom that made everything feel like a dream. The soft white light coming in through the curtains painted everything in a lovely kind of tone, the bedsheets somehow whiter, Harry’s eyes even brighter when they met yours. Sunlight kissed his skin everywhere, the way you always longed to.

“You think we’ll be together forever?” You asked him, distracted by the way the light bounced off each of his curls. You hadn’t let yourself think much about it but you were so desperately in love in that very moment that you couldn’t push away the thought that either you’d stay together forever or eventually break up.

“Forever, sunflower.” He swore. He pressed a kiss to your temple to seal his oath. He shifted his weight, pressing his member against your opening. You shivered, both from his words and from the contact. He looked at you, gauging your reaction before pushing himself inside of you. His movements were like his kisses, slow and sweet. You believed him that you’d be together forever. There was nothing that could come between this. Nothing.

“Harry…” You breathed, deciding not to break the gentle quiet that had filled the room. He breathed against your neck, placing more kisses along your collarbone.

“You know,” he said, not bothering to lift his head, “When we get old we can move somewhere far away. We can buy a farm.”

He couldn’t see you, but he must have sensed the smile on your face as he continued.

“No one could ever bother us. And we’d have little kids running around, too. We could plant parsley and flower.”

“And you could bake bread.” You added. He pressed into you again, making you suck in a breath. It wasn’t the usual conversation you’d have during a moment like this, but in the lazy morning light it seemed perfect. Everything was perfect. You dragged your nails softly across Harry’s back, making his skin prickle with goosebumps.

“And we would be married.” He added thoughtlessly, continuing his slow movements.

“What?” You asked, your hand stilling. Harry lifted his head, looking down at you. He smiled, raising an eyebrow.

“You don’t want to be married?” He asked. His movements had stilled, too, both of you just enjoying the view of the other person for a few golden seconds.

“Of course I do.”

“To me?”

“Are you asking me to marry you?”

“We’ll I wouldn’t do it while I was inside of you. I’d do something more… spectacular.”

“Well, my answer is still yes. To you.”

“Someday.”

“Someday.” You repeated. He nuzzled into your neck, peppering your skin there with kisses again.

“You’re embarrassing me again.” You giggled, “You really mean it?”

“A million times.” He promised. You smiled, feeling goofy and bashful and small. You imagined it, indulging yourself in the fantasy of you walking down the aisle towards him. Your mom would be so happy. As much as you didn’t want to admit it to anyone, you’d always been the little girl who spent so many hours imagining her perfect day, stopping only recently when love seemed too far out of reach in the blistering heat of LA.

Your voice was clingy and pathetic when it came out again. “Kiss me.”

He did, this time with a bit more urgency. You mumbled to him that you loved him, you loved him, you loved him. You felt him enter you again, his teeth coming down on your lower lip. You could tell he was using every ounce of his willpower to press into you slowly, wanting this tender moment to last as long as possible. But once you bucked your hips into him his resolve broke, giving in to you in the most helpless way. Your arms clung onto each other, memorizing each part of their partner. Harry’s skin was dewy with sweat, feeling cold against your touch where his back wasn't covered by your duvet. The last few days had been filled with many moments like this, but not anything as sweet or as loving and pure. This was different, unlike any moment Harry had ever given you before.

“I can’t get enough of you.” He groaned, making your heart pitter patter a bit quicker. “I can’t believe you’re real.”

“All yours, H. All yours.”

“All mine.” He agreed, his movements picking up speed. “Just for me..”

You picked up your legs, wrapping them around Harry’s waist. Your hands fell to the sides of your head, Harry quick to press your wrists under his weight as he held himself over you. The moment lasted for lifetimes, the two of you inseparable in every single way. His movements stayed at a steady pace for a long time, Harry kissing every inch of your skin that was within his reach. You both whispered all of the things that came easily into your minds about the forever you'd have together. You giggled into your kisses, both of you giddy and lovely and high on one another.

You let out a soft whine, Harry lifting himself just enough to glance down at your body under him. His mouth fell open in that cute, perfect way it always did, his brows furrowing. Usually when he was close he would ask you to look at him, or utter something dirty in your ear. This time, though, he lowered his mouth onto yours, kissing you as if he’d only ever lived to kiss you. He pulled out, using his hand to finish onto the soft of your tummy. You could have melted at the way your name fell from his mouth, warmth spreading across your abdomen. He quickly grabbed a tissue as your eyes fluttered closed, wiping your stomach clean.

“You’re so pretty,” He admired, your eyes fluttering open to find him sitting up over you. His finger tips kissed your skin, beginning at your sternum and traveling down to your naval. “Such a good girl.”

“I like it when you call me that.”

His eyes moved quickly up to yours at your admission, a smile bubbling up across his face. He didn’t say anything, his gaze moving across your features before moving back down to your body under him.

“What does my pretty girl want?” He asked, his hands teasing the inside of your thighs. You were quick to answer, telling him it was him you wanted. Only him. “You can have me.” He promised.

///

“Y/N?” Anders voice rang out, tearing you away from the memory. You flinched, dropping the tube of lipstick you had been absentmindedly running across your mouth. “I said I have to go. But I’ll see you tonight?”

“Deal.” You agreed, blinking until the image of you and Harry blurred slightly from your mind. You cleared your throat, trying to focus back on your task

“Thanks. For everything.” Anders said quickly, his voice soft. The conversation had started not too long ago, Anders calling you saying he “needed someone to talk to.” You hadn’t talked about anything in particular, so you weren’t exactly sure how much you’d helped. Still, you smiled.

You tried to assure him, positive you hadn’t done anything worth being thanked over. “Don’t have to thank me.”

“I feel like I do, though.” He explained. “You’ve, uh, you’ve really helped me out a lot lately. I.. I appreciate it.”

You could tell he was embarrassed, but it was too important to him to leave these things unsaid. He had been there for you when you needed him, so of course you wanted to do that same.

“You’re my friend, Anders. And all I did was bother you and clean your apartment.”

“Well I still appreciate it.”

You set down your tube of lipstick as Anders said his goodbye. You stopped him right before he hung up, though, deciding to be brave and say those things you didn’t want left unsaid like he had.

“Anders, you know you can… talk to me about stuff. Right?”

“Sure.”

“No, like…” You paused, trying to navigate your next few words carefully. “I mean you can tell me about how you’re doing. I don’t want you to take this the wrong way but I can tell you’re having a… hard time right now and I want to help. If I can.”

He laughed the same way he always did when you tried this line of questioning.

“I’m good.” He insisted. “I would tell you if I wasn’t. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Byyyyye.”

“Byyyyyyyyyye.”

You hoped he meant what he said.

///

Rachel’s house was probably the biggest that you had been to, ever. She came from a very rich, very famous family, so you weren’t exactly surprised. You had never been here before but it suddenly made sense to you why Logan was always here. There were men in suits walking around outside, waiting to let people inside. One of them offered to take your coat, which you hesitantly handed off to him. Another man in a bowtie offered you a glass of champagne. It was kind of overwhelming, being surrounded by so many people all tripping over themselves to serve you. It made you uncomfortable, the way they were waiting on you. You were more than happy to hang your own coat, or pour your own drink. You didn’t want to be rude, though, thanking them for their help as you stepped inside.

The plan was simple, and set in stone. You would arrive now, find Logan somewhere inside. You would take a few pictures to post online (Bethany was begging you to be more active on Instagram), and Harry would arrive exactly 35 minutes after you. The rule was that you couldn’t arrive or leave at the same time. It didn’t matter what you did while you were inside, really, since there wouldn’t be any paparazzi in the mansion taking photos. There was an unspoken rule in this strange world; you minded your own business, and everyone else would mind theirs. It didn’t matter what they saw, as long as there was an understanding between you that you hadn’t seen anything, either. Obviously, it was still prohibited by the label for you and Harry to ‘engage’ in any way while you were there, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t dance and talk and be a couple in almost every other way. Everyone knew someone who knew someone, which meant someone here knew her. It was better for everyone that things stayed quiet, at least a while longer.

The sequins on your jacket felt slightly itchy as you tried to navigate your way through the house. You, Harry, Logan, and Rachel had decided on wearing matching costumes this year from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. You were Columbia, Harry being your Frank N’ Furter. (The irony of this wasn’t lost on you, Columbia being the obsessive fan of Frank in the movie who bends to his every whim). Logan was Riff Raff, which was hysterical, and Rachel was Magenta. You couldn’t help being a little bit jealous of how close they had gotten, dressing as the iconic sibling duo from the movie and spending so much time together while you were with Harry. In fairness, though, that was exactly what had happened. You had spent so much time with Harry that it wasn’t fair for you to expect Logan to just wait around and not hang out with anyone else. You really didn’t mind them being friends, you just hoped that you wouldn’t end up being replaced. Harry could never replace Logan. There was a clear distinction between the two of them, for obvious reasons. Regardless, you continued, clutching your glass so that it wouldn’t spill on anyone as you searched for Logan.

You spotted them, finally, running up to them. They let out little excited screams, Rachel welcoming you to her home and thanking you for coming.

“It’s about time you finally came over!” Rachel yelled, holding you. She was stunning, her hair pulled into tight, messy curls. She was wearing a maid outfit, the same one Magenta wore in Rocky, and with torn, distressed fishnets.

“Thank you for inviting me!” You responded, hugging her again. “I’m so excited!”

“Of course I invited you.” She said, smiling. “You’re Logan’s best friend. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You thought you could see Logan blush, but the heavy makeup on her face made it hard to tell. Logan was wearing a suit, her long blond hair slicked back away from her face. Her character Riff Raff was probably the most unappealing, nasty character in the movie, and yet she was somehow able to pull it off and make it look glamorous. She had heavy eyeshadow around her eyes and a dark contour, making her appear both gaunt and beautiful at the same time. You almost grinned at the irony, Logan's character being overwhelmed with jealousy in the movie when that was all you could feel as you looked at her. Riff Raff was always cast aside and forgotten, and his feelings of inadequacy were manifesting inside of you instead of her as you all hugged and said hellos, your chest feeling tight and hot. Logan leaned into you, her lips almost touching your ear as she whispered.

“Harry should be here any minute, right? Did you see his costume yet?”

You shook your head. “Yeah, he’s on his way now. But he wouldn’t let me see the fit, yet. He’s had it hidden in his closet for a week now ‘cuz it's a surprise’.”

You all enjoyed casual conversation, your eyes scanning the room every few seconds to see if Harry had arrived yet. You were working on your second glass of champagne now, trying to pace yourself but your excited nerves egging you on to drink more, more, more. Rachel had someone (A friend? An employee?) come over to take some photos of the three of you. You felt glamorous, even posing next to these two perfect bodies. You were wearing a corset, which was pulled as tight as it could go around your waist. It was covered in tiny gems and stones and was covered by a short, golden jacket. You wore tight black shorts and tights with sparkly silver heels. You, of course, also had on the iconic red bow tie that went with Columbia’s look. You looked outrageous and gaudy, but it was for some strange reason the most beautiful you had felt in ages. It was such a nice feeling, becoming someone totally different who could look and act however they wanted. Instead of playing the character you were forced to everyday of your life, you got to play someone new.

Rachel scrolled through the pictures on her phone, each of you ooh-ing and ahh-ing at how incredible they turned out. Note to self, you thought, you needed to hire whoever these models were using to take their pictures, for every occasion. You made small talk with everyone, your blood already starting to become tainted by alcohol, your words coming out easily instead of discombobulated and nervous. There were so many celebrities here that you had never met before that you couldn’t even think of approaching. It made your heart pound, seeing these icons in the flesh having perfectly normal conversations with their friends.

You could hear a laugh, somewhere not too far away, which caught your attention. You excused yourself, finding Harry in the crowd easily. You yelled his name, running over to him before jumping into his arms. The corset made it hard to grab on but you tried your best as Harry lifted you in a hug. He set you down, his eyes already sparkling the way they always did when he was surrounded by people. Unlike you, he thrived in environments like this. He loved the attention, the compliments from strangers, the glances from across the room. He was more himself than ever when he was enjoying eyes on him like this. It was more of a performance for him, parties like this, Harry usually shy but easily flipping the switch when he felt comfortable. You, on the other hand, would normally turn into yourself in moments like these, wanting to become small and invisible. But that’s what the drinks were for. To make you want to take up space.

You took in Harry’s costume in front of you, your eyes pinching in laughter immediately. Your stomach hurt straining against the corset from laughing so hard.

“You don’t like it?” He asked, gesturing to himself. He had a broad smile across his face. He had on the seafoam green surgical gown from the movie, with a pair of black fishnets underneath. He had on his infamous pearl necklace and a pair of perfectly shiny and perfectly pointed black heels. On his face, he had a brushing of black eyeshadow, a deep red lipstick painted across his perfect mouth. He looked incredible. He was handsome and beautiful and everything else in between.

“I love it.” You told him, your cheeks already sore from smiling so much. You wanted to lean up on your tippy toes to kiss him, his face even further away from yours than normal thanks to the few extra inches his shoes granted him. You resisted, though, instead just telling him with your eyes everything that you wanted to do.

You both found Logan and Rachel, the girls screaming over Harry’s outfit. You took more pictures, Harry on one end next to Logan and you on the other next to Rachel. His hand found yours behind their backs, his fingers brushing yours.

The night went on, the discreet glances turning into discreet touches on the leg, arms around your shoulder, hands brushing hair away from faces. You were conscious of those around you, knowing that anyone and everyone could be taking a picture you just happened to be in the background of.

“Who cares?” Harry whispered to you when you attempted to brush his hand away from your cheek. “No one can prove anything. It’s not like I’m kissing you or anything.”

“Bethany will kill me, Harry.” You said, but you were already convinced by him even as you protested. At least you could say that you did your best to seem unassuming. And he was right, anyway. Even if these ended up online, no one would have any more proof of anything than they did before. Everyone had already made up their minds one way or another about the two of you. Why not give them a little bit more to talk about?

Also, you had always been like this with him. Even before you were together, you had always held hands and sat close to one another. It would be more suspicious, you tried to rationalize, if you suddenly stopped doing those things.

Harry had had enough champagne to send you to the ER as hours passed, though in fairness you were a little bit of a light weight. There was nothing else to drink here, but Harry didn’t let that damper his good time. The only problem was, every time he went to get himself another glass, he came back with two in his hands. One for you for each that he had. You were trying your best to keep up, but you could feel the room spinning around you no matter how still you tried to stand.

Harry slipped away a few times, chatting with any and everyone. You weren't annoyed as you watched him work the room, instead feeling your chest sweet with pride. He was really yours. All yours. Whether the world knew it or not. You got the nerve to make your way around the party, as well, anytime Harry left you for a few brief moments. Logan kept an eye on you, making sure you weren't left alone. It felt like old times again, the two of you gripping onto each other's arms as you shuffled toward the bathroom. You giggled excitedly into each others ears when you spotted Timothee walk in, dancing hand in hand when another one of "your songs" came on (not a song you released, but a song you both had claimed as belonging to the pair of you, usually all the way back before fame and LA seemed anything like a reality). Rachel was a wonderful hostess, greeting everyone as they entered, never staying in one place for too long. You were selfishly grateful for that, having your best friend all to yourself.

"I've missed this." You told Logan, drunken honesty finding it's way into the bathroom with the two of you. Logan threw her head back in laughter, standing to pull her pants back onto his tiny waist.

"You miss watching me pee?" She asked, washing her hands. Her eyes shimmered at you through the mirror. She was doing better than ever, you could tell. She looked radiant and confident and like she belonged in a city like this.

"Yes." You said with a giggle, slumping down the door to sit on the floor. Your feet were starting to ache from your shoes, the cool tiles feeling good against your hot skin. "I miss this. I miss hanging out with you."

"I miss it too." She promised, her normal sing-song voice sounding the same as it always had before if not a little bit more polished. She pulled you to stand, pressing a wet, lipstick stained kiss to your cheek. "I'm sorry I've been so busy. I just- I have something going on and I haven't had the right time to tell you-"

There was a bang on the door, making you both jump. You buckled over with giggles as you wiped happy tears from your eyes, both of you apparently finding everything hysterical tonight. A voice came from outside asking you to hurry.

"It's like he doesn't know there's, like, 40 bathrooms in this house..." Logan mumbled. She flatted the front of her jacket, checking her hair in the mirror.

You followed her out back into the party, an angry party-goer preparing to tell you both off before his eyes landed on your face. Nothing to say now? You wanted to ask him, raising a famous eyebrow at him while offering a smug, famous smile.

"Hey, what were you saying before?" You asked Logan, voice strained over the sound of the music.

"Huh?"

"In the bathroom. What were you saying?" You asked again. Her face flickered with panic, a nervous laugh slipping out as a defense.

"Oh." She looked around her, finding Rachel gesturing for her from across the room. Her shoulders relaxed, realizing she had an out of the conversation. "I'll tell you later? Now's not really a... good time."

"Okay." You said, but she was already skipping away.

///

“Y/N! Hey!” You heard a voice call. You were wobbling passed the kitchen, a new drink in hand. You squinted your eyes to find where the sound had come from, trying to sharpen the fuzzy images around you. You saw Anders walking towards you, waving both of his hands up in the air. He looked happy to see you. No, he looked relieved. You rushed (sloppily) to meet him, Harry glancing away from his conversation with Logan and Rachel across the room to see where you were going. You ran to Anders, feeling drunk and excited, wrapping him in a warm hug. It felt strange to hold him like this, both of you usually hyperaware of any and all physical contact since you'd started hanging out. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to hug him, it was just… a silent agreement you’d made once the boundaries of your relationship had been set. It was like each of you wanted to make it clear to the other that there was nothing romantic going on, settling on fist bumps and high fives most of the time. Things friends do. But you were drunk and happy and you missed him, not even thinking twice before pressing your face into his chest. He flinched, hands hovering over you for a moment before hesitantly patting you on the back like an absent father you never hugged growing up. You pulled away, smiling broadly, breathing a sigh of relief. He looked good tonight, and not in a weird way, but he looked okay. He looked better. He was dressed as Kylo Ren from Star Wars, minus the helmet.

“I love the costume!” You yelled over the music.

“Thanks! Yours is… great!” He said, a confused look passing over his face for a moment as he took it all in. “What is it?”

“It’s from a movie.” You slurred, smiling. He nodded.

“Well it’s cool as fuck.” He said, looking over your shoulder at the rest of your friends. He caught Rachel’s eye, waving excitedly. “How’s it, uh, going?”

“Goooooood,” You sang, following Anders' gaze over your shoulder. Harry had returned to his conversation, but you caught him throwing a concerned look in your direction. His eyes narrowed, only for a second, before pinching closed at something Logan was saying. “I’m drunk.” You told Anders.

“You don’t say?” He teased, a waiter stopping by at that exact moment to offer him a glass. He accepted, looking back and forth between the waiter and you as if asking if you felt weird about them too. You did, you told him silently, widening your eyes as they walked away. He took a sip, grimacing at the taste.

“They don’t have beer.” You told him, that being the only thing you’d ever seen him drink. He shrugged, forcing another gulp down his throat.

“It’ll have to do.” He decided, throwing the rest of the glass back like a shot. He coughed, sticking his tongue out. “I’m so fucking nervous, dude.”

You pushed him lightly on the shoulder, which felt awkward and stiff but seemed like a good idea in your head. “Don’t be. You wanna come over here with us?”

“You’re boyfriend's gonna kill me.”

“That would be a great headline, don’t you think?”

“You’re funny.” Anders said flatly, the corner of his mouth turning up after a beat had passed.

“You’re making it weird. It’s not like he has any reason to be mad at you, anyway. We’re… bros.”

You couldn’t helped thinking you were hilarious, covering your mouth with a hand to cover your giggle. Anders thought for a moment, gesturing at one of the staff members for another glass before throwing the entire thing back in one go.

“Lead the way, bro.” Anders said, patting you firmly on the back like an old highschool buddy.

You brought him over to where you’d all been talking, steadying yourself on your heels as you took your place next to Harry. You felt Harry’s arm snake around your waist, pulling your body closer to his. His fingers pressed into your side, enough that you could feel it through your corset. You let out a yelp, grabbing onto Harry’s shoulder as he pulled you so that you wouldn’t tip over. He smiled down at you before kissing you on your face, almost right on the mouth.

“What’s the matter with you!” You scoffed, giggling as you nudged him away. Anders was catching up with Logan and Rachel, giving the two of you a moment as he told the girlies all about the tour he had planned for the beginning of the following year. Harry hadn’t even noticed him walk up with you, it seemed like.

“Just wanted to kiss ya.” He said like it was obvious. His face started to get that soft pink color, his eyes sparkling as he spoke. You liked the way his lips moved when he was drunk, just a little bit slower than usual.

“Not here.” You reminded him gently. He threw his head back, letting out an exaggerated sigh.

“Harry, it’s so nice to see you man!” Anders said, turning his attention to the two of you once you were done canoodling. Harry looked at him, an expression you couldn’t read flashing across his face. His brow furrowed, and you could see the moment of realization written across his perfect features as he recognized the man he’d found you kissing not too long ago. He pursed his lips, smiling tightly. Anders wasn’t suppressing his emotions quite as well, his face ghostly and sunken as he nervously waited for Harry’s reaction. Harry smiled politely, giving him a friendly (and short) hello. He turned back to face you, dismissing Anders completely, his body turning between the two of you as if to block you from Anders' sight. You cringed internally at his greeting, gritting your teeth as you forced yourself to speak.

“You remember Anders, don’t you?” You asked, wrapping your hands around Harry’s waist. You were hoping the soft touches and puppy dog eyes would soften whatever blow was coming, even leaning up to kiss Harry gently on the cheek. Almost as soon as the words left your mouth, though, Harry pressed you away softly, grabbing you by the shoulders. His brows were completely pinched now, looking between you and the man behind him.

“You’re Anders?” Harry asked, almost in disbelief. He pointed a finger towards your friend, a sinister chuckle leaving Harry’s perfect lips as Anders nodded silently.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He didn’t even remember his name? This entire time? It wasn’t lost on you the pieces Harry must be putting together now, realizing the true identity of the person you’d spent almost the entirety of the last week with. He’d been so understanding about it, not even thinking twice when you’d told him over and over again… If Harry’s tightly crossed arms were any indication, that gentle understanding was dead and gone.

“We met a while back..” Anders began, Harry’s stare making him uncomfortable. Harry smiled, nodding his head. He put up a hand, subconsciously blocking himself from the memory of the two of you together.

“I remember.” Harry said. You could tell he wasn't trying to be rude but his tone was sharp, telling Anders (unintentionally) it was time to stop talking. Harry’s grip tightened even more around you. “It’s so, so great to see you again.”

With that, Harry began walking away after a quick handshake and pat on Anders' shoulder. He smiled, more pleasantly this time, before dismissing himself. He easily dragged you by the wrist behind him, his large hands encompassing the daintiest portion of your arm. You were barely able to keep up, stumbling behind him. You chanced a look over your shoulder, Anders mouthing something that looked like ‘I told you so!’ as you were whisked away. You were bumping into everyone, mumbling apologies under your breath as Harry led you into a hallway. You walked for a while before Harry pulled you into a bathroom, a different one than the one you'd been interrupted in with Logan.

He didn’t say anything, releasing your arm and twisting the bathroom lock once you were inside. Ordinarily that would be a good sign, but the look on Harry’s face indicated otherwise. He was fuming, his arms raising to cross against his chest again. He was trying not to seem upset but it was all too easy for you to tell what he was thinking. You looked at him, confused and horrified and scared. Things had been going so well with you two, and you’d done everything right this time. You told him where you were. You didn’t lie. There were no more secrets. Even still, Harry gazed down at you expectantly, awaiting your explanation.

“What’s wrong?” You asked drunkenly, feeling sick from moving so quickly. You decided playing dumb would be the best strategy for now, letting Harry say what he wanted too before you dug yourself any deeper. Harry lifted his hands to his hair, raking his finger through the curls.

“That’s Anders?” He asked. He was mad, but his drunken state made him just look silly. You furrowed your brows at him.

“Yeah… you met him before. I figured you remembered.”

“So that’s who you were out at lunch with?”

“I told you who I was with...”

“Who you spent every night with while I was gone?”

“I didn’t spend the night..” You defended, pausing long enough to mimic Harry’s actions by running a hand through your hair. “You literally met him before! I don’t get what the issue is!”

“Yeah but I didn’t realize-“ Harry paused, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just didn’t realize that was him.”

You were tempted to apologize, but decided against it. It wasn’t your fault he didn’t remember, and you’d been honest with him from the start about who you were with.

“So what’s going on with him, then?” Harry asked into the quiet of the bathroom. He leaned against the sink, crossing his arms.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, is there something going on there? Because last time I saw him you were practically all over him, and now you’re going out for lunch? Spending every day at his apartment?”

You took a step back from him, seconds away from rolling your eyes.

“There’s nothing going on, Harry. He’s my friend.”

“Since when?”

“What do you mean since when? He’s just my friend, Harry. I’m allowed to have friends aren’t I?”

He didn’t respond. He took a deep breath. He was being patient with you, as much as he could be, and you knew you were being hard on him. You decided to back off a bit, copying Harry again by taking a deep breath before trying your best to put his mind at ease.

“There’s nothing going on. I told him already that it wasn’t going to happen, and he knows that.” You started explaining yourself, your cheeks reddening with frustration and guilt and embarrassment. “He never tried anything. He’s just a friend, Harry. It’s not like I had anyone else to spend time with...”

“Okay.” Harry said when your voice trailed off. “I get it.”

“Okay.” You agreed, slightly miffed but glad he was being understanding. But he held up a finger, cocking his head to the side before you could say anything else.

“I just don’t know how I feel about it, Y/N… I- I don’t like it.”

Your hands met Harry jaw as he spoke, wondering if maybe your touch could be enough to make him lose his train of thought. You leaned up, pressing your mouth against his. He allowed it, only cutting you off when you tried to deepen the kiss. “Stop.” He said, his voice like a slap in the face. He turned his chin away from you, just out of your reach. You backed away, throwing your hands up, trying not to show how your feelings were hurt by his dismissal.

“So you just want me to, what? Never speak to him again? He’s my best friend, Harry.”

You wobbled on your feet slightly, trying to seem stern but struggling to even stand upright. Harry signed, deciding to let it go.

“I guess not.” He answered. His mouth was still pressed in a tight line. He brought you to his chest, holding you against him firmly.

You both stood there, wrapped around each other, in awkward, drunken silence for a few seconds before a giggle rose from your throat.

“You look so funny when you’re mad.” You told him, holding his face between your hands. His eyes softened a bit, leaning forward to kiss your nose.

“I’m not mad.” He insisted, his voice still slightly grumpy. He tried not to smile as you stood there watching him, his mouth twitching as he tugged the corners down.

“Good.”

You tried to reach his face, standing on your tippy toes on your heels to kiss him again. He was too weak to resist this time, instantly leaning into you. Good, you thought. It’s over. His hands were on you within seconds, his kisses drunken and lustful and champagne flavored. You reached around his neck to untie the surgical gown he was wearing, letting it fall to the floor. Before he had a chance to try to unhook your corset you fell to your knees in front of him, tugging his underwear and pantyhose down his thighs as you went.

He let it happen, not daring to protest your desperate actions in his drunken state. His breathing was already heavy, making you feel warmer in the small space of the bathroom. You realized you hadn’t exactly thought this through, a lump forming in your throat at the sight of his girth before you. He was hard already, his cock springing up to meet your gaze. Harry’s hands gripped the sink behind him, the veins popping out under the skin of his forearms. You looked up at him, just for a second, instantly feeling more nervous than before when you found his eyes trained on you. You just knelt there on the floor, your chest heaving, begging your arms or your mouth to make the next move. You looked up at Harry again, who reached down to brush your cheek. As if reading your mind, he raised you by your chin, bringing you to kiss him again.

“Maybe we can just go back to the party.” He offered sweetly, brushing the hair out of your reddened face. You shook your head.

“No I… I wanna.”

“You want to what?” He asked, a cheeky expression on his face. You swallowed hard. You were grateful for Harry’s hands on you, keeping you steady on your feet.

“Make you feel good.” You answered him. Make you forget, you corrected to only yourself. He grinned, kissing you on the forehead. Your mouth felt dry, threatening to stop the words before they even came out.

“You don’t have to do that.” He promised, and you knew he meant it. But the aching you felt between your thighs said otherwise. It was like when you were with him you were no longer in control of what your mind or body did. You were helpless, unable to stop your knees from buckling before him. You'd been itching to touch him all night, too, and you were finally alone. You weren't willing to pass this moment up.

Instead of answering, you fell to the ground again, your knees making a soft thud sound when they hit the tile of the floor. Even standing on your knees like this, you could feel your thighs shaking, struggling to hold your body up as you gazed at his form. He was perfect. The tattoos that etched their way across his abdomen, the way his fishnets clung around his knees where you had left them. The black eyeshadow, smudging slightly as the hours had passed, it all made him even sexier than he ever had been before. Or maybe it was the champagne. Either way, the look he gave you as your eyes searched his face, combined with the way his thumb gently brushed your lips before pressing into your mouth, gave you the courage to lean forward, taking his length into his mouth. His head was immediately thrown back, resting against the mirror behind him. He cursed under his breath as your tongue slid around him, his eyes pinching closed in pleasure. You moved your head slightly faster, still taking your time to savor him. Harry let out another low grunt, his fingers tangling into your hair roughly. The feeling made you moan around him, his hips bucking forward at the sound.

“‘M gonna help you, okay?” He said, his voice thin and breathless. You pulled away from him, confused, your lips messy and glistening. You could see the red of your lipstick transferred onto his dick, which for some reason made your stomach tighten even more. You opened your mouth to speak, unsure where Harry was going with this, when he quickly used the hand already tangled into your hair to bring your mouth back around him.

“Don’t- fuck. Don’t stop.” He huffed. You didn’t need convincing, your mouth continuing its movements around him. “But we have to be fast, yeah? ‘M just gonna move your head a bit, okay sunflower?”

You nodded, as best you could, humming an agreement. You could feel your stomach tense in anticipation, your mind filling with all kinds of dirty thoughts. Harry removed his fingers from your hair, readjusting his grip so that it was firmer, his fingers securely weaved between the strands.

“You’ll tell me if you want me to stop, yeah?” He asked you. Your eyes flickered up to him, all you were able to do to agree being a soft blink of your eyes. “Good girl.” He hummed dreamily.

Harry’s hand pushed against the back of your head, sliding you further onto him, nearly all the way, before sharply pulling back. Oh. He repeated the action, your movements along his shaft no longer voluntary as he used your mouth. He sped up, his movements quicker and more firm than you were used to, making you gag around him slightly. You were taking him in further than you ever had before, his hips pressing themselves into you as his hand moved your head.

“Fuck.” He breathed, his free hand still gripping the counter behind him, knuckles white. His head no longer rested against the mirror, instead leaning down to watch as he pleasured himself with your mouth. His movements had little regard for your comfort as he fucked into you, his eyebrows pinching as his mouth fell open in awe.

“Such a good girl for me,” He mused, knowing you liked his words of encouragement. He tried his best to keep his voice soft and sweet even as the moment intensified. “You okay? You alright?”

You hummed around him again, earning a dazed smile from the man in front of you. He whispered a soft “good” before continuing. His curls fell onto his forehead into his eyes.

You could feel him twitching after a few minutes, a tell tale sign that he was close to the edge if the sloppy movement of his hips hadn’t given him away already. You moaned, eager to please him. You wanted to taste him, all of him, the memory of that night in your bedroom back home not too long ago fresh in your mind. You had thought about it countless times since then, normally while Harry was away and you were left to your own devices in the cocoon of your bed. You moaned again at the memory, your thighs stiffening.

“You like that, sunflower?” He egged you on, wanting to earn another sound like the one you’d just made. You gave it to him, unconsciously, the dirty words falling from his lips resting on your shoulders and making your body feel weak and soft. “You like when I fuck that pretty little mouth of yours, huh?”

Another moan around him, his grip on your hair pulling even tighter. It was easy to ignore the sting of your scalp as you found his eyes.

“Should’ve known you would…” He continued, “You're always so good to me, hm? Taking me so well…” Your eyes fluttered closed, watering slightly, your jaw feeling tense and sore even as the rest of your body was overcome with the feeling of Harry inside you. “Look at me, love.”

You did, fluttering your eyelashes at him. His eyes rolled back at the sight of you before pinching closed, almost instantly, his head following suit as it fell again against the mirror. You could tell this was it, the way his body stiffened in front of you. You encouraged him with soft sounds as he finished, his length pushing all the way into your throat. You swallowed around him gratefully, his hold on your hair eventually loosening and allowing you to pull away. You wiped the corners of your mouth with the back of your hand as Harry pulled his tights back up his legs. You clung onto him as you stood, Harry pulling you roughly in for a kiss.

“Was that okay?” He asked into the mess of the kiss, “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

He pulled away, just a fraction, to find your eyes. You smiled back at him dreamily, unphased and more than okay as you stared back at him. You leaned back into the kiss, not ready to let him slip away just yet.

“That was amazing.” You assured him, his lips catching between yours as you tried to speak. “So hot.”

“You’re filthy.” He chuckled against you. His hand fell from your face, dropping between your legs. His fingers brushed you over your shorts, your breath catching in your throat at the contact.

“Only for you.” You promised him, the memory of your little spat over Anders still looming over you. There would never be anyone else. Harry never had any reason to worry about anyone, ever. All you wanted was him, over and over and over. Harry’s free arm tightened around you as your legs threatened to give out, his touch moving achingingly slow. He pressed more firmly against you, his fingers creating circles around your throbbing center.

“Only for me, hm?” You could feel his smile pressed against your mouth as you nodded. “You did so good f’me, sunflower. So wet already just having me in your mouth. I can feel it through your shorts.”

A moan fell from your lips as Harry pulled his mouth away from you. His eyes raked up and down your body, still fully clothed, before scanning your face.

“So pretty…” He mused, kissing your cheek once before watching your expression change again as he sped up his movements. “Bet I could make you cum just like this, couldn't I? Don’t even have to touch you..”

“Please…” You whined, knowing he was right but wanting to feel his hands against your skin. He relented, dipping his hands into your shorts and under your tights. He found his place again quickly, resuming his movements as you let out a sign of his name. Your head fell into his chest, his free hand coming up to stroke the back of your hair oh-so tenderly. His movements were gentle and soft, unlike they had been just a few moments earlier.

“I should take you home right now and fuck you, I think.” He wondered allowed into your hair, practically whispering, his lips pressing a sweet kiss on the crown of your head. “Think you deserve it, letting me use your mouth like that. Letting me do whatever I want with you...”

Your stomach dropped, the pent up frustration you’d been trying to quell as you tasted him coming to a head. You felt the knot in your stomach tighten, warning you of the approaching orgasm. You wrapped your arms tightly around Harry’s waist, his bare torso giving you nothing to clutch onto. You swore you could feel Harry’s mouth form a smile against your hair, him knowing fully well what was coming.

“You..” You tried to say, pressing a kiss to Harry’s chest as you tried to form the words. “You can do… anything....” You had to pause again, clinging desperately onto Harry. “Anything you want to me.”

“That’s a pretty bold offer.” His voice came from above you, a small chuckle following his words. “I would barely know where to start…”

“H-” You were barely able to say as your chest tightened. “I’m gonna-”

“I got you,” He assured you sweetly, his arms still firmly holding you up. “Cum for me.”

You writhed under his touch, coming completely undone before him. The hand that had been stroking the back of your head came around to cover your mouth and it took everything in you not to sink your teeth into his soft palm as you came. Instead, you pressed a desperate, wet kiss to his fingers in an effort to keep yourself quiet. You whined helplessly as his fingers continued before finally coming to a halt. He removed his hand from his shorts, bringing your face up to kiss him once more.

“Good job.” He praised, a wicked smile on his face. His fingers, still slick, rubbed against your lips. “Open.” He commanded, your jaw falling slack again without a moment of hesitation. You felt the slightest pinch of pain as your mouth opened for him, still sore. He pressed his two fingers into your mouth, pointer and middle, using his free hand to push your mouth closed around them. Your tongue lapped up your own taste from between the two digits, Harry placing the gentlest of kisses against your forehead as you did so. He pulled his hand away, cupping your face. You felt dreamy and drunk and happy as you looked at him, satisfied for the moment. Harry’s thumbs brushed over your cheeks lightly, your skin feeling tingly and sensitive under his touch.

“Didn’t hurt you, did I?” He asked again, his voice unclouded by lust this time around. His eyes were turned down in concern, his mouth forming the subtlest of frowns.

“No.” You promised, embarrassment an undercurrent beneath your voice. You had never done anything like that with someone, ever. You could only hope it was half as good as what Harry was used to. “I liked it.” You added shyly as an afterthought.

“You’re so hot.” He said, his face breaking open in a smile. “Best I ever had. You did so good.”

“Really?” You asked him, wanting his praise to continue just a little bit longer. You liked the way his tiny affirmations felt against you, warming you in every corner. He nodded.

“You were amazing.” He insisted. “Still think I should take you home, though. Feel like I owe you a reward for your hard work.”

You swallowed again, amazed by how quickly he could heat your body with his words even so soon after you’d gone over the edge. You hadn't even fully recovered yet. You nodded, trying not to look too eager.

“You’d like that?” Harry pushed further, never giving up the chance to hear you whine and beg and plead for him. He was cocky like that, loving the way you were so helpless to resist him. “I was thinking maybe we could take a shower, get all this makeup off and whatnot…”

You nodded again, your puppy dog eyes meeting his wicked gaze. He cracked a crooked smile.

“You’d like that?”

“Yes.”

“Please?”

“Please.”

With that, the two of you turned to the mirror in a hurry, wiping away smeared lipstick and smudged eyeliner. You were both pressed, shoulder to shoulder, leaning towards your reflections. His eyes caught yours in the glass, his mouth offering you one last taunting smile as he used a tissue to wipe the edges of his red-stained mouth. You helped him tie up his costume again, your hands running down the length of the fabric to smooth the crinkled fabric.

You exited the bathroom, Harry’s hand in yours. You both stumbled drunkenly into the hallway, your feet tripping over themselves. You fell into Harry’s chest, his arms quick to catch you. You both were in a fit of giggles, from each other and from the champagne. You were too swept away in the moment to stop yourself, leaning up to Harry to kiss him one more time before you reentered the party. The hallway was empty and dark, and Harry didn’t show any signs of stopping you.

“I love you so much,” He mumbled into your mouth. You responded by pulling him closer, your hands digging into his hair. You had never felt happier than you did, right now, in this moment, promises of all the things Harry would do to you hanging between your bodies. Harry pressed you into the wall, helping to steady your unbalanced body. He was everything to you, especially in this moment. It was like nothing else mattered, or had ever mattered, or ever would. You could have died right here and now and everything would have been perfect. You wouldn’t have had any complaints.

“Hey, Y/N.” You heard a voice come from the end of the hallway. You jumped, pushing Harry’s chest so that he would be forced to take a step back. “Styles, pleasure as always.”

Even in the dim lighting of the hallway, even as the house swayed around you, you could tell instantly who it was. He looked the same as always. He had one shoulder leaned on the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. You didn’t have any words at all to say to him, standing there staring at you with a nasty, smug expression on his face.

“Glad to see you two made up.” Chrisitan said, smiling. He took a step closer to you, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I figured this would happen.”

“No fucking way..” You groaned under your breath, not exactly at him, but loud enough for him to hear. “H, let’s go.”

You took Harry’s hand in yours, Harry leading the way further down the hall. Just as you were about to squeeze past Christian, he stuck out an arm, blocking Harry from moving any further.

“Hey!” Christian said with a bark of a laugh. “Slow down, ‘H’.”

Christian was wearing a devil costume, or a lame attempt at one. It was fitting to say the very least. He had a set of horns on his head, pushing the hair away from his face, his torso donning a red t-shirt. Below that, a regular pair of jeans. “Relax,” He said, still not moving his arm.

“Get away from me, Christian. I’m not joking.” You warned, not wanting to start anything with him. All you wanted to do was get away, to follow Harry outside until a car could come pick you up and take you back to his house. Your head was still foggy, your mouth still tasting faintly of your boyfriend. You could feel that dreamy, soft feeling fleeting all too quickly. You turned to look up at Harry, who had his jaw clenched in discomfort.

“Get away.” You added softly, turning your gaze back to Chistian. You tried to push past him, but he wasn’t relenting. You took a few steps back, wanting to at least put some space between you if you couldn’t get around him. You were so close you could smell that same cologne he always used, his body close enough to you to almost reach out and touch. You went cold with panic, remembering the way his hands had held you down before. The way that same cologne had mixed with the smell of liquor and weed...

More memories flashed through your mind at the scent, Christian laying across your bedroom floor as you sat beside him strumming your guitar absent mindedly. "We should write a song together someday," you had suggested to him then. You remembered Christian helping you carry boxes into your new house the day you moved in. You remembered Christian backstage at your very first show, waiting with flowers to tell you what a great job you’d done. You remembered shaving the parts of his head he couldn’t reach in the bathroom of his house, Logan smoking a joint as she watched from the edge of the tub. You had all laughed so hard that night you thought you were going to pass out from happiness alone. It was evident now more than ever how much time had passed, Christian’s hair grown out again. You searched his face in front of you, trying to catch a glimpse of who you knew back then. You couldn't see it, and it cut you somewhere too deep to soothe.

You had barely thought about him lately, but seeing him again like this was bringing everything back. It hurt worse now, because as those little moments you shared flicked through your mind you realized for the first time how much you missed them. You took another step back, for good measure, wondering if a few more inches between your bodies would make the sting go away.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Y/N. I was only saying hi.”

Christian took another step closer to you in an effort to close the gap, causing Harry to take a step to the side to stand between you two. Christian let out a rotten giggle.

“What do you think you’re gonna do, Styles? Playing hero again as always?”

“Fuck off, mate.”

It scared you that Harry’s body was shaking in front of you. He was nervous. Why would he be nervous? You wanted to scream, or cry, or run down the hallway in the other direction. But you stood there, frozen in place. Part of you wanted to retreat once again into the solace of the bathroom, to feel Harry’s hand wrap around your throat as he buried himself into you. Anything to distract you from all of the things you had tried so hard to forget staring at you from the end of the hallway.

“Fuck off? Try a thank you, maybe.” Christian began. You heard him take another step closer.

“Thank you?” You snapped, walking around Harry’s body so that you could face Christian in front of you. Logan, Rachel, and Anders had heard the commotion, each of them standing dumbfounded at the end of the hallway. Anders especially was confused, looking around at each person’s face to try to gauge whatever was going on. They had walked around the corner just in time to see you lose your grip, finally giving Christian the attention he wanted from you as you raised your voice at him.

“Do you really think Harry would be with you right now if it weren’t for me?” Christian asked, leaning so closely into you now that his face was only a few inches away. You stood your ground, wanting to show him that you weren’t backing down, or scared, or letting him win. Not this time. It was killing you, though, and you were scared. “Isn’t that why he came in to save the day, because you were so torn up over some kiss?”

You thought back, remembering the night Harry showed up at your house after everything happened with Christian. How he had shown up out of the blue, after weeks of not hearing from him. You hated the memory, and you hated Christian for reminding you of it. You shook your head, not even considering the possibility that it had all been a part of some plan. It didn’t make sense. Harry was always there for you when you needed him, especially then, despite everything that had happened between you.

“He came over just in time, huh? You’re so fucking stupid for buying that shit, Y/N. We’re friends and all, but you should’ve seen through that.”

“We’re not friends, Christian.” You said pathetically. "Please move." He didn’t let you leave, though, his condescending smile only intensifying.

“Come on, Y/N. Didn’t you think that was weird? What do you think him and I talked about at the party? Harry here gave me his blessing with you, though I didn’t expect you to put up that much of a fight. Neither of us did.” He paused, reaching out to touch your arm. You pulled harshly out of his grip, which only made him snicker. You wondered if he could see you cracking, if he could see it all falling apart right before his eyes. “Who do you think called the paparazzi that night? I knew they would be there. I had albums to sell, and I knew you were the perfect way to do that. It didn’t go as I’d planned, but it worked nonetheless.”

“What is he talking about?” You asked Harry. He looked at you, eyes wide. Most of what he was saying didn’t surprise you. It was easy to believe he had planned to have the pictures taken. It was easy to believe it was all some fucked up plot of his. But your mind was stuck on what he said about Harry.

“He’s just making shit up, like always.” He promised. He grabbed your hand, pulling you to look at him after taking several steps away from Christian. He grabbed your face roughly. He started whispering now so no one else would be privy to what he was about to tell you. “He’s just trying to get under your skin, sunflower. You know that.”

You looked at him, silently, your mind spinning.

“Anyway, in some weird way I guess you could say I’m responsible for the two of you finally getting together. So, yes, a thank you would be nice.”

Christian stayed where he was, seemingly amused by Harry’s hands cupping your face.

“Fuckin’ leave her alone, man.” Anders said, deciding suddenly to come down the hall towards the devil in front of you. His footsteps were as heavy as always. He was almost pressed against Christian when he finally stopped, his face inches away from his. “She said fuck off. Now go.”

“Who the FUCK do you think you are?” Christian yelled, shoving Anders by the chest. Anders didn’t take it well, shoving Christian back. His shoulders made a loud thud as they hit the wall behind him.

“Don’t fucking try me, asshole.” Anders bit. You couldn’t even interject, too shocked to say or do anything. You wouldn’t have even guessed Anders could speak like that to anyone, the sweet Midwestern boy who was permanently caught in a fit of giggles nowhere to be found. You could see Anders debating as he sized Christian up, his hands in tight fists at his side. Part of you wanted to see Christian get punched in the face, but you knew that wouldn’t look good for anyone.

“What do you even have to do with this?” Christian asked him, steadying himself. Then his face broke out into a smile, a finger coming out to press against Anders chest. “You trying to fuck her, too? It’s not worth the effort, bro.”

He paused for a moment, a lightbulb flickering on above his head before he landed his final blow.

“Or do you just want to buy some more pills? Sorry, bud, I’m fresh out.”

Anders face flickered with panic, his eyes widening. He opened his mouth to speak before giving up.

“Let’s just go,” He decided, beckoning you with a wave of his arm. He looked at Harry, as if waiting for him to do something, anything, his voice shaking slightly with anger. “We can go to my place.”

You were still frozen, though. What was that about?

“Y/N, let’s go.” He repeated, waiting. You took too long though, giving Christian the opportunity to continue on his tirade.

“Harry, you should tell her about that night. You should tell her about all the phone calls we had. Don’t you remember?”

Christian words were venomous now, trying to spit out the rest of what he had to say before anyone had the chance to leave.

“You should’ve heard the things he said about you, Y/N” He continued when he got no response from Harry, pausing to let out a laugh, “It was awful. ‘She’s so obsessed with me, I can’t get her to leave me alone’.”

You hated the way his lips curled into a smile around his words. You hated how his voice mimicked Harry’s accent, exaggerated and ugly.

“What is he talking about?” You asked again, turning to face your supposed boyfriend. Harry shook his head, but no words came out. What the fuck is going on?

“I bet he left that part out, huh?” Christian continued, not bothering to let Harry answer. It didn’t seem like Harry had anything to say for himself, anyway. “He told me allllll about it. About everything. We were all pretty surprised you turned him down to begin with, we all kind of assumed you’d be easier. I decided to have a go, but you’re a stonewall, Y/N. Or at least you were until he came crawling back, huh?”

Harry wouldn’t meet your eyes, staring straight ahead at Christian. There was something off in his gaze, and your stomach fell to your feet as you recognized the expression. It was like he was silently begging Christian to stop, not even looking angry anymore. Only scared.

“That’s enough, man.” Anders chimed in again, though Christian didn’t even seem to hear him. He gestured to you again, silently this time, asking you to come stand next to him.

“I kind of knew it was only a matter of time before you’d end up in his bed. What was it you said, Harry? You’d give it a month?”

“Harry…” The sound was forced from your throat, your airways feeling constricted and tense. Harry finally turned to look at you, shaking his head again silently.

“I didn’t…” He tried to say, his voice giving out before he could finish.

You glanced over Christian’s shoulder at Logan, who had tears streaming down her face. She was always crying at any confrontation.

“Oh, come on, Styles. It’s all out in the open now…. Y/N, Harry and I are quite good friends, don’t you remember?”

You ignored his taunts, pulling your hand out of Harry’s.

“You invited him here.” You said suddenly, your voice forced into a hush so that you wouldn’t scream. You were looking Logan now, her head shaking back and forth quickly. “This is your… your new best friend’s party. You must have told her to put him on the list, right?”

“I didn’t-”

“That’s why you’ve been so weird lately, right? Because you’ve been fucking Christian behind my back? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

You couldn’t help your voice rising now. You felt a tear escape onto your face, but you tried to wipe it away before anyone here would have the satisfaction of seeing you cry. It felt good to finally say it out loud, to finally have it all out in the open. It had been bubbling under the surface for too long now, finally spilling over. You knew it all along.

“I am not!” Logan yelled. Rachel tried to put a hand on her back, which Logan quickly flinched away from. “I wouldn’t fucking do that to you.”

“Then why is he here? Why haven’t I seen you more than five minutes in the last month?”

“Because you’ve been with him!” Logan said, sounding more defeated than angry. She gestured toward Harry with her arm before letting it fall limply back to her side.

“Yeah, while you’ve been FUCKING Christian!” You snapped. You knew your voice could be heard throughout the party at this point. You couldn’t control it, your hands forming small, shaking fists at your side.

She didn’t say anything else, only continuing to cry helplessly as she shook her head back and forth. That’s what you thought. You knew that this was coming, but you’d tried so hard not to see it. It was all so obvious. Logan and Christian. Harry and Christian. It all made sense to you now.

“Y/N, let’s go to my place.” Anders said yet again, walking past Christian. He looked over at Harry, throwing him a look tinged with disappointment. He met his eyes without nervousness. “You can stay with me.” He offered, his voice soft and sweet in stark contrast to all of the harsh tones filling the hallway. You nodded your head.

“Stay out of this, mate.” Harry quipped, apparently finding his voice now that Christian was done. “She barely even knows you, she’s- she’s not coming home with you.”

Anders shook his head at him, giving you one last look before walking away.  “Whatever.” He said under his breath, the words lingering in what was now a silent corridor of the house.

You walked down the hallway after him, passed all of them, not bothering to entertain any of them anymore. You weren’t sure where you were going to go, but you knew you had to leave. There were eyes on you as you paced towards the door, but you couldn’t have cared any less. You reached the lawn, Harry and Anders being the only two to follow you out into the yard. Anders stood back, probably unsure what to say or do, as Harry grabbed you again. You pulled away sharply from his hold.

You stormed out into the lawn, Harry close on your heels. The air was crisp and smelled clean, the way October always did. Goosebumps rose on your legs once the cool air hit you, your high heels threatening to sink into the soft grass with every step.

“Y/N, wait.” Harry said, grabbing your wrist yet again. You tried to pull your arm away, not wanting to look at him, but he had a firmer grip this time. You spun around to face him. “Where are you going?” He asked, breathless. His face was coated in a thin veil of sweat and a shattered expression. You hated the way it made your chest sting, wanting nothing more than to collapse into his arms and let him hold you until everything went away.

“I-” You began, realizing you had no answer. “I don’t know.”

Harry stood there silently, pulling his lower lip between his teeth thoughtfully. He dropped your wrist from his hand, trusting that you’d stay. You chose not to betray him, standing there patiently for him to try to explain himself. His arms hung limply at his sides, defeated. It was almost comical, the two of you standing there in these outfits, all teary eyed and serious.

“You don’t seriously believe any of that, do you?” He asked. You huffed a laugh, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“I don’t know, Harry.” You said, your words coming out as crisp as the air around you. You really didn’t know what to think. It made sense what Christian had said. They certainly looked quite buddy-buddy at Christian’s party.

Harry’s eyebrows pinched together suddenly in disbelief. He smiled, a hurt, half smile, and shook his head. His eyes found a spot to settle on between your two pairs of shoes, his gaze intense as if he were attempting to count each blade of grass.

Anders took a few steps closer to you, not daring to speak, only the slight squish of his feet in the grass to give away his movements. It hadn’t rained, had it? It never rained in LA... You didn’t bother to look at Anders, not wanting to see the confused look on his face. Instead, you followed Harry’s lead and found a particularly tall blade of grass to focus on. Harry glanced over his shoulder at your only friend left, letting out an exaggerated sigh as he turned back to face you so Anders knew his presence wasn’t welcome. He didn’t take the hint, though, standing a few feet back, observing. There must have been an air around you telling him not to come any closer.

“Y/N he wasn’t even making any sense. You can’t sit here and act like you honestly believe any of that shit. He- He wasn’t even making any sense!”

Harry’s voice came out confident and authoritative, only beginning to waver half way through when you didn’t agree. His words came out rushed then, uncertainty dripping off of every syllable.

“You were talking to him? This whole time?” You asked him, finally meeting his eyes. His mouth was hung open in a mix between disgust and confusion. “You said all of that about me?”

“No! I didn’t! I mean, I talked to him that night but that was it. I haven’t spoken to him since, sunflower, you have to believe me.”

“Don’t call me that.”

The words came out quickly, almost like a defense mechanism. Harry’s face shifted, as if he’d been kicked in the gut. His mouth moved a few times, feebly, trying to find something to say. Any annoyance you had seen in his expression before had melted away, replaced with something that looked like grief and sadness and heartbreak. You couldn’t even stand to look at him.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. It cracked slightly, like glass, and you could feel your body beginning to shake with anger or nervousness or maybe something else all together.

“I don’t know.” You responded truthfully. It was as if you couldn’t stop yourself at this point. It was what you always did, though, wasn’t it? Lashing out at whoever was closest the second you felt cornered? You knew even as it was happening that you were making a mistake, that every word coming out of your mouth was a mistake, and yet you couldn’t manage to stop it. But you were hurt, and confused, and mortified. You imagined Harry and Christian, placing bets on who could get to you first. You imagined Christian laughing along as Harry mocked you, creating some narrative that you were the one begging for him when it had always been the other way around.

“You can’t do this right now, Y/N. You can’t do this.” Harry’s voice was shaking, tears making his already glassy eyes a bit shinier. You turned your face away from his, not wanting to see it happen. “I don’t understand what’s going on. I don’t-”

“I don’t know what’s happening, either.” You barked, making Harry flinch slightly. “Apparently I’m the only one who didn’t know what was happening. This entire time. And I’m just… I’m just so fucking tired of looking stupid all the time. Like everyone has this big secret and I’m just standing here fucking oblivious to all of it.”

“Y/N, he’s fucking with you. You have to know that… None of that was true, none of it.”

“How am I supposed to know that, Harry?” You snapped again, your own throat beginning to feel hot with tears. You felt shaken and upside down, completely disoriented and out of place. None of this made sense.

“Because I’m telling you so!” Harry shouted. He threw his hands up in defeat, shaking his head. His face was still soft, not hardening at all like his tone was. He wrapped his large hands around your biceps, as if making sure you wouldn’t go anywhere. “And you’re supposed to believe me.”

You sniffled, pulling out of his arms. You shook your head slowly, facing your feet.

“I don’t know, Harry… It just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Because he’s lying to you, Y/N! He’s lying! I shouldn’t even-” He stopped, throwing his hands around erratically as he spoke. He took a deep breath. “I shouldn’t even have to convince you that he’s lying. You’re supposed to trust me.”

His voice broke on the word ‘trust’. You knew he was right, maybe, but you had reason enough not to trust him, didn’t you?

“I just don’t know.” You cried. You wiped your nose on your sleeve, the sequins scratching your skin. Harry scoffed, running his hands through his hair.

“I can’t believe this.” He uttered under his breath. “You need to know, Y/N. You’re… You’re being insane right now. We shouldn’t even be talking about this.”

“But that’s what always happens, right? Something happens and I’m always just the crazy one? You get to do whatever you want to me and I just forgive you for it.”

Harry took a few steps away from you, as if being near you was painful.

“You- Fuck! You know that’s not true! Why are you acting like this?”

“Because!” You yelled. “Because Harry! You just keep.. You just keep doing things and I’m fucking on my knees for you the next day. No matter what happens. You got what you wanted from me.”

Anders was still close by, his head towards the ground. His hands were fidgeting in front of his body, unsure what else to do.

“No, Y/N. You don’t get to do this. I know I messed up, but you never fucking listen to me.”

“You keep running away!”

“Because you keep PUSHING!”

You didn’t say anything. Harry brushed the hair out of his face, limp curls falling to kiss his forehead. He paused for a moment, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands before looking up at the sky. He took a deep, uncertain breath.

“You do this to everyone. You push everybody away.”

There was more. You didn’t say a word, wanting him to go ahead and say whatever it was that he so desperately wanted to say. You were so tired of being tiptoed around, of having things hidden from you that you almost wanted him to yell at you. To tell you exactly what it was that was going on in his head, for once. He took the opportunity, quickly finding the rest of the things he wanted to say.

“You never even give me a chance to explain myself, Y/N. You don’t. You always take his word over mine. And I’m standing here telling you that none of that was true and you’re just…  ignoring me!” Harry glanced over his shoulder, noticing Anders still close by. He lowered his voice. “You don’t get to keep doing that. You don’t get to make me the bad guy every time something happens. I’ve done everything....” His voice broke again, betraying the harshness he had tried to give to his tone. “I’ve done everything to make it all up to you. But none of that is true. You have to believe me.”

You looked at him, really looked, taking in the way his brows pinched in the middle. You took in the way his lips looked, the way his eyes were shimmering. You shook your head at him, walking away.

“Where are you going?” He asked, jogging after you. You stopped, turning back to him.

“To Anders house.” You answered. Anders looked up at you, his eyes wide. He looked like he wanted no part in any of this, standing there as uncomfortable as you’d ever seen him. Harry laughed, a tight, humorless sound.

“No you’re not.” He said, his voice firm.

He took you by the wrist, like he always did. He pulled you to his chest, kissing you hard. You could practically feel the panic rolling off of him when you didn’t reciprocate, his hands clutching desperately at your cheeks.

“No.. you’re not.” He said again, almost begging. His pleas came out, rushed and broken between kisses. “You’re not. I love you. I love you. You know I do. I love you.”

You pushed away from him, not allowing yourself to fall into his kiss. Harry’s heart was breaking right in front of you. You could see it all over his face. Let it, you thought. Yours had broken a million times, over and over. Why should you be the only one?

“You can’t leave.” Harry continued pleading. You walked towards Anders, who was still standing there dumbfounded. Harry spoke as he followed. “Please, sunflower. Come home with me and I can try to explain everything. I did talk to him that night at his party, I told you that. He asked me about you and I said that we weren’t together. That’s it. He- He said he was going to try to talk to you. And I was embarrassed… I was hurt, and I told him to go for it. I was trying to seem.. I don’t know. I didn’t want anyone to know how fucked up I was over everything. I knew I shouldn’t have told him that, but he was your friend. I didn’t think anything would happen. I didn’t think that would happen.”

“Well it did, Harry.” You said. Your voice came out cold. You knew how unfair it was to pin all of that on him, but you also knew how deeply it would cut him. You couldn’t stop the words.

“So you’re just going to take his word over mine, then? After everything-”

“After what? After you got your quick fuck? After you… you had me every way you wanted to?”

“Stop fucking saying that!” He broke. You could tell he was close to giving up, his hands coming up to cover his eyes. He sighed deeply. “How many times am I going to have to tell you? I’ve loved you since I met you. Everything I did.. I did it because I loved you. I tried letting you go, I tried explaining myself. I tried everything. And now.. I can’t let you walk away now. Not after everything.”

“You told him to “have a go” at me, Harry. You were… what? Competing to see who would fuck me first? I would never talk about you like that behind your back, Harry, never.”

You were struggling to keep the tears at bay so much so that you started choking on your words, your chest aching by the time you finished your thought. Harry bit his lip, hard, stopping himself from saying… something.

“That’s not what happened.” Was all he offered, his words short and detached. You shook your head, disappointed.

“What happened then?“

“I told you what happened.” He continued, his body relaxing slightly at your offer to hear him out. It wasn’t that you believed him, or wanted to hear his side. You wanted to see him struggle to dig himself out of the hole he’d created for himself. “He asked about me and you, and I said we weren’t together. Yeah, I told him I tried it with you but all I said was that you weren’t interested. He said something about asking you out, and I told him to go for it. And I am so, so fucking sorry for that. I didn’t tell him to fuck you- You think I wanted that? It was killing me imagining you with him. It killed me, sunflower.”

You didn’t bother correcting him on the nickname again. You weren’t satisfied, waiting for him to continue.

“There is no way I could’ve known what would happen. I.. I don’t own you. So if you didn’t want me, then why couldn’t he ask you out? Who was I to tell him no? I never said anything else. I didn’t tell him anything about us, Y/N. I would never.”

You looked away from his rosy face, towards the stars that seemed to be hung on every word. You didn’t know what to do. You felt embarrassed and stupid. The thought of Harry and Christian talking about you, about all the things Christian said… it made your stomach turn.

“Maybe I just need to think about it.” You said. Your resolve was breaking, your anger fading away in sheets at the sight of Harry in pieces in front of you.

“Think about what? We can’t just be friends again. We can’t. There’s nothing to think about.”

“That’s not what I said, Harry. I said I need to think.”

He closed his eyes, struggling to center himself.

“And let’s say you go home and ‘think about it’,” His fingers formed little quotations around his words, “What then? The only option is for you to get over it or for us to break up. And I can’t be your friend, Y/N, no matter how much I love you. I can’t do that.”

He waited for your answer, his face annoyed and impatient. He raised his eyebrows at you, pressuring you for a response.

It wasn’t fair. Couldn’t you at least have the night to sober up? Couldn’t you at least have the time to think about what had happened? What if Chrisitan was telling the truth? Would you even be able to look passed it?

“I don’t know, Harry. Maybe we need to be. For now.”

You wanted to take the words back instantaneously. That wasn’t what you wanted to say. No. No no no.

“No..” He echoed your thoughts, backing away from you slowly. “No. Not because of this. I can’t.”

You tried to think of some way to backpedal, to save whatever was left between you. “I just need some time… I just need some time to think about it, Harry. Please.”

You hadn’t noticed it happen, but you were crying now. Fully crying ugly, messy tears. Your chest rattled, your shoulders shaking with every sob that crashed over you.

“So what are you going to do, then? Write another song about how awful I am?” Harry snapped. Something was different in him now, his face hard and devoid of any of the sweet, gentle feelings he supposedly held for you.

“What?”

“Your song. I didn’t like it, Y/N. I didn’t. It was mean, and nasty, and dramatic. But you know what?” Harry paused, letting the question hang over you. He laughed as he waited, sounding exasperated. “I got over it. I moved on and I let it go because I love you. I always let things go. Every time you’ve disappeared, or turned me down, or told me I didn’t care about you. I let it go. Every. Single. Time. But you never do the same for me. You get so mad at me for everything, even the things I didn’t fucking do!”

“You’ve done terrible things to me, Harry.” You whispered. You should’ve seen this coming, knowing how Harry always acted when he snapped like this. The second his feelings were hurt, he hit you in all of your weakest points, on purpose. You tried not to let it get to you, but the ice in his gaze made it impossible.

“Like what, Y/N? Getting a girlfriend because you didn’t want to be with me? Having sex with you at some party, like I have with a million other people? Everyone does that, Y/N. You just make everything a big deal when it doesn’t fucking have to be.”

The air was knocked out of you. You gasped, literally, unable to process the words he was throwing at you. He was speaking so quickly now, his choice of words no longer thought out or deliberate. He spat each syllable at you.

“And the time I fucked you at the party? You can’t pretend like you didn’t want it. I asked you over and over if it was okay. I did it because I wanted you, sunflower. You can’t hold that against me forever.” You couldn’t even look at him anymore, closing your eyes. “It’s so… it’s so fucking unfair for you to do that to me, you know that? I feel like such a prick when you bring it up. And you bring it up all the fucking time!”

You could tell he instantly regretted what he’d said, walking back over towards you quickly.

“I didn’t mean that. I just mean-”

“I heard you.” You cut him off. You turned on your heel, walking towards the street. You hoped Anders would know to follow you, unsure what your plan was once you reached the street a few feet away. Before you could make it very far, though, Harry ran around to your front, stopping you with two firm hands on your shoulders. You didn’t even try to push him away this time, simply staring up at him. He was crying again.

“I didn’t mean that.. I.. We can’t break up, Y/N. We can’t.” He said to you. You could tell he was embarrassed, looking all around him as he spoke. His eyes fell on Anders, just for a second, before looking back to you. He sniffled, his nose running ever-so-slightly along with his eyes. “Please, sunflower. I’m begging you, please. I love you.”

You didn’t respond, still trying to process everything that had happened in the last fifteen minutes. Harry continued as you stood there, silent.

“I shouldn’t have said any of that, okay? I’m sorry. But I do feel bad about it, and I just-” He choked, restarting his sentence. “I just want you to do the same for me that I always do for you. Can we please just let it go? I didn’t say any of that shit to Christian. I would tell you the truth, I always do.”

You were totally numb, unable to answer. You didn’t nod, or try to walk away, or even cry. You just looked at him. You hated him in this moment, for the first time ever. You hated him, in a place somewhere so deep inside of you you hadn’t even known was there. You hated him because he was right.

“Please. I’ve never… I’ve never loved anybody like this before, ever. I can’t-” He choked on his words, taking a slow, shaking breath as his eyes glanced quickly above his head. He was moments away from shattering, you could tell. “Please don’t. What do you think I did? You think I told him to hit on you so I could come swoop in? You know that doesn’t make sense. I haven’t talked to him, not at all. Not at all, Y/N, I haven’t. I haven’t.”

Harry’s head fell, the only indication that he was crying coming from the way his head bobbed slightly as it faced the ground. His soft sniffles tore you apart as you gazed at him. He looked back down at you, pulling you in one last time for a kiss. You couldn’t stop your lips moving with his time time. Harry signed, relieved, into your mouth. You whispered that you loved him too, because it was true. Eventually, you pulled away, rubbing at your eyes.

“I just want some time, Harry.” You whispered back to him. His eyes closed firmly, squeezing out a few more tears. He couldn’t bear to hear you say it, shaking his head harshly.

“No. No. We can go inside, right now. We need to go inside.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Listen to me.” He said harshly. You nodded. “We have to go inside, now. We’re both going to have a lot of explaining to do when these pictures show up online tomorrow morning. We need to go inside.”

“I don’t want to go back inside, Harry. I- I can’t.” You repeated, harder this time.

“Y/N- Fuck! Y/N, you might not care about what people say about you, but I do. I do care. Please, for me, let’s go inside. Please.”

“You didn’t care when you were with her.” You said, knowing that that wasn’t what he meant. He removed his hands from you.

“Oh my god, Y/N!” He said, trying to keep his voice down but struggling to control his volume. “Come ON. Let’s go.”

You considered it for a minute. You always followed him, wherever he wanted to go. You followed him onto balconies, into bathrooms, into empty bedrooms at parties. You owed it to yourself to at least think this over. He was starting to get to you, his words worming their way into your brain. You needed some space to think clearly. You shook your head.

“I have to go.” You whispered. Harry fell, crouching in front of you. He covered his face with his hands. “Just for the night. Just let me think about it, okay? I just need to think about it.”

Harry didn’t say a word. He stayed where he was, on the ground. You couldn’t leave him like that. You dropped to your knees with him, your tights instantly dampening as they pressed into the grass.

“Anders, could you please give us a moment?” You said, looking over your shoulder. He nodded wordlessly before sauntering off, unsure. Harry looked up, wiping black eyeshadow from under his eyes. His eyes didn’t meet yours.

“What the fuck was he doing just standing there like that?” Harry snapped after a few moments. “He’s, like, obsessed with you or something.”

“No he’s not.” You said. You wanted to reach out and touch him, to brush the stray hair away from his damp forehead. You didn’t, though, just watching him. “He’s my friend, Harry. He’s just… worried about me.”

“He doesn’t need to worry about you.” He whispered, sounding almost like a child. “That’s my job.”

Your chest swelled. Fuck it, you thought. Let Harry say what he wanted about you. Let him do whatever he wanted, as long as he was yours. You were too tired to keep fighting, too drunk and too in love. You reached out, touching Harry’s cheek as softly as you could to see if he would pull himself away.

“So what, you’re not going home with him now? Finally sent him away?” Harry spat, remaining in his spot on the ground. He took your hand in his own though, holding your fingers against his face. “Figured you might just go all the way this time, since I interrupted you two before.”

“Stop it.” You told him, trying to sound firm but sounding weak and broken. You brushed your fingers along the soft stubble of his face, Harry’s head leaning into your touch. He nodded, agreeing to your plea.

“Sorry.” He mumbled to the ground. He sniffles one more time.

Crickets chirped around you, silently applauding what they didn’t understand. You took a second to enjoy their song, imagining just for a second that you were back at home, far away from all of this. You remembered how the crickets sang the same way for you when you swam in Layla backyard, the sky turning a deep orange. That color that only felt that warm in the suburbs.

“I don’t know what to say.” You told him after a few loaded, silent minutes. He shrugged, annoyed and hurt.

“You said what you needed to, I think.”

“You honestly can’t see why I’m upset?” You asked him. He stood, offering you a hand to bring you with him. You accepted, his fingers all too quick to release yours once you were upright.

“Sure, Y/N.” He answered. There were no more tears. No more emotion in his voice. “But I’m telling you it isn’t true, and you don’t believe me. What else do you want me to do?”

And so you both stood there, silently.

“I didn’t mean what I said.” You decided out loud. You hadn’t meant it. Something in Harry’s expression told you you might have waited too long to take it back, though, lines appearing around his mouth like parentheses as he frowned toward you. His chin quivered slightly, the only sign left that he still cared at all.

“You always say things you don’t mean. You never…” he paused, pressing his mouth against his hands that were pressed together as if in a prayer. “You just don’t think sometimes. It hurts me, Y/N.”

“You do too, Harry.” You reminded him, his words from just a few minutes prior still stinging your skin. You tried to removed the bite from your tone, tiptoeing around him. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I love you. I believe you.”

“I mean what I say.” He assured you harshly, ignoring the rest of what you’d said. “And I know just because I mean them doesn’t mean I should say them out loud. But you… you just say anything.”

“So you meant what you said just now? All of that?”

“Of course I did.”

Ouch. So much for chalking it up to the heat of the moment. At least you knew now how he really felt.

“You know, no matter how mad I got at you I wouldn’t ever threaten to leave with my ex like that. Imagine if I had done that just now? Imagine if I would’ve spent a week at her house while you were away? You never would’ve spoken to me again.” Harry continued. His arms were crossed, blocking his body off from yours. You knew he was right.

“Anders isn’t my ex. He’s just-“

“A friend. Right.” Harry finished for you. “The friend whose lap I found you sitting on. Nothing that I should worry about.”

“I told him-"

“I don’t care what you told him!” He snapped. “If the roles were reversed, we’d be done! You know that’s true! Why am I always…”

“Let’s just go, Harry. We can talk about it tomorrow, when we feel better.”

“I’m still talking.” He snapped again, holding a finger in your face to silence you. “I’m always expected to let everything go. And I don’t think you’ll ever do the same for me, Y/N. I don’t.”

“I will, Harry.” You swore. How did he do this? How did this always happen, this role reversal? You were always the one who apologized in the end, no matter what happened. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again-"

“Don’t call me that.”

He turned, walking back towards the house. You didn’t bother following, standing there stupid and alone. All you could do at this point was cry.