Do You Still Love Me?
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in which, harrys been acting shifty lately, when your looking for a shirt in his wardrobe, he gets hostile, when you say your going to go and shower, he gets hostile and for some reason doubts start to creep into your mind about what he’s been doing, so when you confront him about it, he tells you of his secret all along.
word count - 3.1k
23rd December, 2023.
The December air in Holmes Chapel holds a crisp chill, and as you sit in the cozy living room of Harry's family home in Manchester, the warmth envelops you. The room is adorned with festive cheer – a beautifully decorated Christmas tree takes center stage, casting a soft glow of twinkling lights.
The two of you had decided to spend Christmas at his family’s like you do every year, you’ve blended into a member of there family, as if you were always there. Anne considered you as another daughter, and sometimes on accident you sometimes referred to Gemma as your sister, so spending Christmas with them was undoubtedly a no brainer.
You were going to be staying for a total of three weeks, arriving two weeks before the big day and then going home January 1st.
You find comfort on the sofa, admiring the personalized stockings that hang from the mantelpiece, proudly displaying everyone’s initials. One for Harry, one for you, one for Gemma, one for Anne as well as one that is put up every year, an R, for everyone’s angel Robin. The stockings serve as a poignant reminder of the shared holiday traditions and the presence of loved ones, including a thoughtful tribute to his late stepfather.
As you await Harry's return from the grocery shop with his mother and sister, you revel in the tranquility of the moment. The crackling fireplace adds a soothing soundtrack to the scene, enhancing the coziness of the room. You can't help but reflect on the significance of spending Christmas in this familiar space, filled with memories of the past four years.
However, amidst the festive atmosphere, a subtle unease lingers. Lately, you've observed a shift in Harry's demeanor. His actions and words have become increasingly shifty, leaving you with a sense of uncertainty.
He dances around conversations, offering vague responses that only intensify your curiosity. It's a stark contrast to the openness and connection you've shared over the years, causing a quiet concern to settle within you.
You gaze at the stockings once more, the embroidered initials a testament to the bonds that tie your lives together. Yet, as you sit in the glow of the Christmas lights, a question lingers in the air – a question you can't quite bring yourself to voice. The flickering flames cast shadows on the wall, mirroring the uncertainty that clouds your thoughts, which happen to consist of the three moments that you’ve caught him acting weird.
15th December, 2023.
The date was December 15th, and the evening held a quiet tension as you sat on the sofa in Harry's family home, the soft glow of lamplight illuminating the room.
Anne, occupied herself with knitting a jumper, a rhythmic pattern of needles clacking together in the stillness. The warmth of the room, usually comforting, now seemed to underscore an unspoken discomfort.
Around eight at night, the front door creaked open, and Harry entered, an unusual weariness etched across his features.
He had gone out around two, and it was now evening, he just explained to you that a few friends from school wanted to meet up before Christmas, but there was a hint of doubt that remained in your brain.
You couldn't help but inquire about his whereabouts, a hint of concern in your voice.
"Where've you been, Harry?" you asked, eyes searching his face for answers. He shrugged nonchalantly, a vague response that only deepened the unease settling in the room.
Attempting to break through the tension, you pressed further, a furrow forming on your brow. "What's wrong?"
The question hung in the air, met with a dismissive reply.
"Just tired, m’love. Think I might hit the hay early tonight," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact. The words lingered, laden with unspoken weight, leaving you with a sense of disquiet.
As Harry made his way toward the stairs, you couldn't let the matter rest. Concern etched across your face, you followed him, determined to understand the source of his unease. His hand halted you mid-step, a silent plea for space. Unbeknownst to you that it pained him, because he was doing it for the right reason.
"I'd like t’be alone for a little bit," he uttered, the distance in his eyes leaving you feeling shut out.
Left standing at the foot of the staircase, a chasm seemed to widen between you and Harry. The uncertainty echoed in the air, and as he ascended the stairs, the door to understanding remained firmly closed. The normally familiar and comforting surroundings felt alien, the clinking of Anne's knitting needles a somber soundtrack to the unspoken rift.
That night, as you lay in bed, questions lingered in the darkness. The echoes of Harry's vague responses resonated, and a sense of foreboding cast a shadow over what was once a haven of warmth and connection.
19th December, 2023.
The chill of December hangs in the air as you step through the front door, returning from the farmers market with Gemma. The aroma of fresh produce lingers on your clothes, and a shiver runs down your spine as the warmth of the cozy living room beckons.
The house is quiet, save for the faint sounds emanating from the kitchen, where Harry is preparing a cup of coffee for himself.
You navigate the familiar space, following the scent of brewing coffee that wafts through the air. The kitchen is dimly lit, and there he is, Harry, standing by the counter, lost in the quiet ritual of making coffee. His silhouette is a comforting sight, a presence that adds to the warmth of the home.
You make your way up the steps, wanting to be comfy when you greet your lover boy.
The December cold clings to your skin, urging you to shed the layers of the outside world. A yearning for warmth and comfort consumes you, and the thought of slipping into one of Harry's oversized shirts becomes a tempting refuge. The familiarity of his presence in the adjacent room promises solace in the face of the winter chill.
As you move toward the bedroom, the creaking floorboards beneath your feet seem to echo in the quietude of the house.
Gemma strolled into the kitchen, the door swinging gently behind her. She found her brother,
Harry, leaning against the counter, sipping on a cup of coffee. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee beans hung in the air as he greeted her with a cheerful " ‘Ey, how was the market?"
Gemma looked up, offering a warm smile. "It was good, got some nice stuff.
Harry hummed before tilting his head to the side. “Where’s (Y/N)?”
Gemma mirrored his smile, her eyes lighting up. "She went upstairs to get changed, though."
Harry nodded, his attention momentarily diverted as he took another sip of his coffee. However, a realisation dawned on him, and he furrowed his brow. "Wait, she's upstairs?"
Gemma, unaware of the subtle shift in Harry's demeanor, nodded. "Yeah, she mentioned wanting to warm up and change. Why?"
Harry's gaze darted toward the staircase, a sudden sense of urgency gripping him.
"No reason, just wanted t’check on ‘er. Be right back," he said, placing his coffee mug on the counter.
With a quick stride, he headed toward the stairs, a mild curiosity turning into a subtle concern. As he ascended, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. When he reached the top of the staircase, he spotted you about to enter the bedroom, ready to change.
"Hold on a sec," he called out, hastily covering the distance to stand before you, his expression a mix of surprise and tension. "Y’not allowed in there."
Because in his head, if you wanted to get changed, you’d go to his section of the wardrobe because he knows that you’d want one of his shirts, and then you’d find the surprise and he wasn’t planning on ruining that any time soon.
You paused, mid-step, your brow furrowing. "What do you mean, not allowed? H, I'm just getting changed."
His features tightened with an unexpected intensity. "I said, y’not allowed in there," he repeated, the words hanging heavily in the air.
Confusion and concern painted your expression as you took a step back. "Harry, what's going on? Why can't I go into our bedroom?"
His gaze remained fixed, a wall building between you two. "Just... not right now. I need Don't go in there."
You sighed, a heavy breath escaping you, and nodded in resignation. "Fine, whatever. Just get me some clothes, please."
Harry's shoulders tensed, and he hesitated before nodding. "Ye’okay. I'll get y’some clothes."
22nd December, 2023.
You can't help but replay the scenes in your mind—the December evenings, the vague responses, the moments when he seemed to withdraw. Each memory adds a layer of doubt, and as you connect the dots, a stray tear rolls down your face. The fear of him cheating on you lingers, casting a shadow over the warmth that once permeated your shared space.
The absence of Harry, his mother, and sister intensifies the solitude, and the room feels emptier than ever. The Christmas tree, adorned with memories, offers little solace in the face of the growing suspicion. You contemplate the significance of the three instances, questioning the foundation of trust that once defined your relationship.
In the quiet of the room, the tear on your cheek becomes a silent witness to the emotional turmoil within. The fear of betrayal, the uncertainty, and the unanswered questions create a palpable tension, leaving you to grapple with the haunting possibility that the person you love may be slipping away.
As the front door creaks open, signaling their return from the grocery shopping trip, Harry, his mother, and sister step into the living room. The warmth of familial greetings fills the air, and they collectively acknowledge your presence with smiles and hellos. The shared laughter and banter among them, however, are met with a strained silence on your part.
As Harry approaches, intending to seal the reunion with a customary kiss, you rise from the sofa. The heaviness in the room seems to amplify as you avoid his attempt at affection. You make a deliberate choice to distance yourself, turning away from the warmth that once brought solace and comfort.
With measured steps, you ascend the staircase, each footfall echoing a growing emotional distance. The decision to retreat upstairs becomes a silent declaration of your need for space, a momentary escape from the complexities that have woven themselves into your relationship. The unanswered questions and the lingering fear make it challenging to engage in the familial camaraderie that unfolds below.
As you walk away and ascend the stairs, the atmosphere in the living room subtly shifts. Anne, Harry's mother, notices the change in dynamics and glances at her son, concerned etching her features.
"Everything alright, love?" she asks, a mother's intuition sensing the unspoken tension.
Harry, removing his jacket and shoes, offers a dismissive smile. "Ye’, just gonna check on (Y/N) . Be right back."
His attempt to brush off the situation adds a layer of ambiguity to the air, leaving Anne with a lingering worry that she can't quite shake.
Upstairs, Harry follows in your footsteps, the silence between you palpable. As he enters the room, he finds you standing near the window, gazing out into the night.
"Ey’," he begins tentatively, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty. "S’going on? Are y’okay?"
Tearfully, you turn around to face him, emotions laid bare in your eyes. The air is thick with a mixture of sorrow and uncertainty as you pose a question that lingers in the silent space,
"Do you still love me?"
The vulnerability in your voice cuts through the room, leaving an atmosphere heavy with the anticipation of his response. Harry, caught off guard by the rawness of the question, searches your eyes for understanding.
Harry, caught off guard, furrows his brow defensively. "F’course, I do. Why would y’even think otherwise?"
His tone carries a mixture of hurt and frustration, an instinctive response to the implication that the love between you might be in question.
The room becomes charged with an anguished tension as you gather the courage to voice the unspoken concerns that have festered. "It's just... you've been acting so differently lately. There are these moments, these instances when you seem so distant. I can't help but feel like there's something you're not telling me."
Harry's defensive stance persists as he denies any wrongdoing.
"M’don't know what y’talking about. S’nothing going on," he insists, avoiding eye contact. The weight of his denial adds another layer to the unease in the room, leaving you to grapple with the growing chasm between you two.
The frustration builds, and you press further, "Harry, you can't just brush this off. It feels like you're hiding something, and I deserve to know what's going on."
The plea in your voice is met with a guarded expression from Harry, his defensive walls standing tall.
The room seems to tighten with each passing moment, the emotional stakes escalating.
"M’not hiding anything," Harry asserts, his voice tinged with exasperation. "Y’reading into things, making a big deal out f’nothing."
As the back-and-forth continues, a sense of despair settles in.
"Harry, I need honesty. We can't move forward if you keep shutting me out," you implore, the depth of your emotions exposed. Yet, his walls remain intact, and the elusive nature of the truth becomes a palpable barrier.
The echoes of their laughter from downstairs seem like distant memories now, drowned out by the intensity of the conversation unfolding.
"Just tell me, Harry. Tell me what's going on,the time you stopped me coming upstairs with you, the time you stopped me coming into the bedroom and had a go at me for wanting to go on your phone " you plead, your voice cracking under the weight of the unresolved tension.
The emotional exchange reaches a breaking point, leaving you on the floor, sobbing, desperate for answers. The weight of the uncertainty, the unspoken tensions, and the fear of losing the connection you once cherished overwhelm you. The room becomes a backdrop for your vulnerability, the walls echoing with the sound of your heartache.
Amidst your tears, you hear Harry sigh, and the rustle of a box catches your attention. He crouches down beside you, the heaviness in the air momentarily shifting.
"Look at m’please," he implores gently, his voice carrying a tone of sincerity that cuts through the emotional fog.
Hesitant, you raise your tear-stained eyes to meet his. His gaze holds a mixture of regret and determination, and he asks you to stand up. Every fiber of your being is hesitant, a cocktail of emotions bubbling beneath the surface. Reluctantly, you rise, uncertainty written all over your face.
As you stand, Harry, now on one knee, pulls out a small box. The room seems to hold its breath as he meets your gaze.
"V’been acting shifty because v’been planning this," he confesses, his voice soft yet earnest. "I wanted it t’be a surprise, but the timing... it just got all messed up."
"From the moment we met, m’life gained a sparkle that I never knew I needed. V’been m’confidante, m’partner in laughter, and the steady warmth that completes every corner of m’world. These past four years ‘ave been a journey f’growth, laughter, and endless love. Y’seen me at m’best and m’worst, yet y’loved m’unwaveringly."
He lets out a soft sigh. “Will y’make m’the happiest person in the world and say yes?"
Overwhelmed by the heartfelt speech and the flood of emotions, you fall into Harry's waiting arms, the warmth of his embrace grounding you in the reality of the moment. His arms wrap securely around you, and you find solace in the familiar comfort of his presence. With tears of joy streaming down your face, you look into his eyes, a silent affirmation of the love that binds you.
In a tender exchange, you press a loving kiss to his lips, the connection deepening as the weight of the proposal lifts from the room.
"Yes," you whisper against his lips, the word echoing with the promise of a shared future.
"Yes, Harry, a thousand times yes," you repeat, each affirmation punctuating the joy that now fills the space between you.
The room seems to shimmer with the shared happiness, and Harry holds you closer, his own eyes reflecting the relief and joy of the moment.
"I love you," he murmurs, the words a gentle reassurance that lingers in the air.
Harry tenderly tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch a gentle reassurance.
"M’sorry f’being so sneaky and, well, a bit harsh," he admits, sincerity coloring his gaze. "I just wanted the proposal t’be a surprise, but I guess v’already messed that up."
A light laugh escapes him, the sound a blend of amusement and relief. "Guess I couldn't keep it under wraps as well as I thought."
You join in the laughter, finding the humor in the unexpected twists of the evening.
"Well, surprise or not, it's the most wonderful thing that could have happened. I can't wait to be Mrs. Styles," you express, your eyes reflecting the genuine excitement that courses through you.
Harry's eyes soften with affection as he hears those words, and he leans in to press a sweet kiss to your forehead.
"M’can't wait either, m’love," he whispers, his voice carrying the promise of a shared future.
The room becomes a haven of shared laughter, love, and the promise of forever. Harry, still on one knee, takes your hand and delicately kisses the engagement ring.
"S’ring represents the love we've shared and the life we're about t’build together," he says, his words a poignant acknowledgment of the significance of the moment.
The room, once filled with questions and uncertainty, is now brimming with the certainty of love and the anticipation of a future together as Mr. and Mrs. Styles.
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