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Blacking Out and Breaking Hearts - Chapter 37
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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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whatagrump · 1 year
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Luke Arnold on the final scene between Silver & Flint, lightly edited for clarity:
I don't think the rage was what was so scary. [Silver] said he recognized the rage in himself. He saw it there and I think the deflation—he had that. He was like, "I want to see the world burn," and then after it, the moment Madi is back, it’s like, "Oh, that was...God." He got a glimpse, and even if he doesn't still see Flint is completely that, he got a window into it that he wouldn't have otherwise. For me, it wasn't that he thought it was rage at the end, which is why this needed to be stopped. The scariest thing for him was that Flint forgave him. That he was that stubborn. That he was that immovable, and whether it's about rage or not, once again, I think that Flint's clarity of like, “It's fine, we’ll put it back together.” Like, that’s freaky. 
I think that was what was scarier. And by the end I think he no longer could see through Flint's eyes the way he did before, see the hope in humanity, that if you screw it all up and burn it down, that basic human decency will build something better. He could no longer see the ideal, you know, Flint's ideal and Thomas Hamilton's ideal, this whole thing that had been there, that was driving Flint. So that was gone, which is where that opaqueness, I think, came from, but I still think what he saw so clearly was just this would never stop. That whole idea that Flint would take an oar and walk until someone mistook it for a shovel. I mean, that died, too.
He was still hoping for that world, and so I think that's where [Silver] saw [Flint] very clearly at the end. He’s just going, “Well, if me sending men to kill you and turning on you so completely cannot shake you from the way you see this happening, I don't think you're seeing this clearly anymore.”
(Source: Fathoms Deep, episode 59)
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moon-0f-saturn · 5 months
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regulus black = pretty crier
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introspectivememories · 5 months
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unrequited zosan cause "sanji's not gay" unrequited zosan cause "sanji has issues with men" unrequited zosan cause -- ENOUGH! unrequited zosan cause zoro's in love with luffy
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ahwait-no-yes · 16 days
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fresh feelings of regret
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letterstosirsonic · 8 months
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My dearest Sonic,
Oh, how I wish to speak with you, just one more time.
Though I acknowledge that these letters may never grace your sight again, I trust you would find comfort in this solace that grows within me as I pen the emotions weighing upon my heart.
This realm of ink and paper lets me safely release these feelings, allowing them to flutter and soar like wondrous butterflies.
It grants me that of closure, knowing that these words serve as a testament to the love and memories we once shared, tenderly preserved within these pages.
I am forever changed by the mark you left on my soul.
In this continued act of writing, I find myself ever more connected to the essence of your being, as though you were gently guiding my pen with the touch of a noble hand.
I cherish the memories we created, holding them close as if they threaten to slip away with the passage of time.
Slowly, I'm learning to draw strength from these memories we shared.
Despite the void you left seeming insurmountable, it is an endearing reminder that life can be as cruel as it is beautiful.
This loss is a shadow that clings to my every step, a constant reminder of the emptiness that haunts our once vibrant world, an ache that refuses to fade with time.
Still, even in the depths of my loss, your essence remains an ethereal beacon, guiding my path as I journey through this world without you.
Oh, Sonic, how I long for the sound of your laughter, the warmth of your embrace, and the unwavering courage that defined you.
In your absence, I find myself adrift in a restless sea of grief.
On these long nights, I whisper your name, praying that somehow, you can hear me across the realms that separate us.
I cling to the belief that love transcends time and space, and one day, our souls shall reunite in the embrace of eternity.
But for now, I'll allow the weight of losing you to envelop me for a while longer.
Forever missing you,
Lancelot.
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nicolos · 2 years
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I show you the chest, the chest is brought out of the ground... and then... I don't know what then exactly, but I doubt it involves returning it to the camp as planned. Am I wrong? Tell me I am and we'll continue on our way.
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hammerbacks · 10 days
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lazenby!bond + tvtropes.
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merry-death · 4 months
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Do you think my boss would accept this picture of my cat being so so sad that I have to get up as a valid reason for me not to work today?
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fate-defiant · 9 months
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Honestly what with him being stuck in one unaging, unchanging state with his only remaining connection to his former self being this vague notion that he must fight and protect and sacrifice with no regard for his own well-being - there really is something of The Ghost Knight in Mytho.
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another-kshit-blog · 9 months
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Two things I desperately want from the Brighton arc:
1) Ciel and Sebastian have to go undercover as father and son and it is awkward and annoying for Ciel
2) Sebastian wearing that fucking nightgown Elizabeth gave him in the Campania bonus chapter
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Blacking Out and Breaking Hearts - Chapter 36
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Blacking Out and Breaking Hearts - Master List
Word Count: 21K (I'm SORRY)
Warnings: Brief mention of the whole Anders thing. They talk about a lot of ~feelings~ in this one! Also you already know there's a bit of smut sprinkled in because I mean ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
(If you want more smut just wait for the next one because, you guessed it, it's gonna be straight fuckinnn)
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 where they talk about their feelings and they *don't* have sex.
A/N: IM BAAAAAAAACK! Did ya miss me????????
Besties let me be straight up it has NOT been Molly's hottest few weeks/months/however long its been. Definitely not on my hot girl shit. I can't apologize enough. tbh I don't really like this chapter very much, but I've been trying to write it for so long I just will never be happy with it at this point. Please be gentle with me. also please lmk what you think!!!! Next chapter will be a continuation of this and then we'll have the epilogue chapters which I am actually STOKED about!!!!!!!
Chapter 36
The first thing you noticed when you woke up the next morning was how cold it was. 
The windows had been left open overnight, the thin white curtains of Harry’s bedroom thrashing around with every gust that came into the room. It was one of those moments where waking up seemed to happen in slow motion, where your brain revved to life like the old computer your parents used to keep in the kitchen when you were a kid. You let out an exhausted breath, already aware that you were waking up far too early for how late you’d been up, as your brain just ticked… ticked… ticked. 
Your eyes were somehow dry and wet when you blinked them open, your eyelids scratching against your eyes with every flutter. Your throat was in similar condition, sharp stings radiating down with every swallow. It really was nice leaving the windows open, but you were always reminded of the fact that you had absolutely dreadful seasonal allergies the moment you were pulled out of your slumber. 
Your brain was still cold and slow when you realized the weight on your chest. Once you noticed it there, though, everything came crashing down around you in the most beautiful and tragic way. All of those puzzle pieces you thought about so much came tumbling down from the ceiling and onto the comforter you were wrapped in and you were hit like a mack truck by the sudden realization that you were in Harry’s room. In Harry’s bed. And it was Harry that was weighing down your chest.
You always knew you were a sap, maybe not as bad as someone like Logan who cried over everything, but a sap nonetheless. Still, you were rattled to your core when your very first reaction was a tightening of your throat. You had slept flat on your back, waking up now to find Harry nuzzled onto your chest with a leg thrown over yours. He had one had smooshed between his cheek and your chest, his lips slightly parted with sleep, and the other hand wound around yours, finger threaded together like a cross stitch. He was completely zonked, passed out cold as his head raised slightly with each of your unsteady breaths. 
He was still here. 
You couldn’t have described the feelings that coursed through you if you tried. You were equally parts relieved and devastated. It was beautiful and tragic. It was like you were a whole person again, but on the verge of shattering completely given one more gust of wind through the window to your right. 
It was beautiful because he was here. With you. He hadn’t gotten up to run away in the night, and he hadn’t woken you up to tell you off, either. He looked so peaceful, that soft look on his face you had been longing for and dreaming of for months now. 
It was tragic because, with the events of yesterday officially behind you, you had no way of knowing what today had in store for you. Maybe Harry would wake up with a clearer head, having finally gotten what he wanted out of you. Maybe he would roll over and tell you you needed to leave and not come back, that you needed to call Bethany and go to that house she had finally managed to find for you. 
There was a war waging inside your head less than two minutes after you’d woken up. You replayed every conversation and every interaction from yesterday, and the week leading up to it. You believed, with everything in your cracked and hollow chest, that Harry meant what he said when he said he loved you. You believed that he wanted you to stay and that he had missed you just as hopelessly as you’d missed him. But what if, as much as he meant those things, he ended up having a change of heart? The entire thing was too good to be true and you knew it, so you laid as painfully still as you could, taking breaths so shallow it made your head spin, hoping you could keep Harry asleep just a bit longer. That maybe you could draw this moment out, just for a while. You could stay in this in between, this not-knowing, for even a minute more. 
You weren’t sure how much time had passed, and you didn’t dare reach for your phone and jostle Harry from his spot wrapped around you. You just laid there, focusing on the sounds of your breathing mixing with his, trying your best to soak in what was left of him. Harry, who was always fleeting. Harry, who was always temporary. Harry, who never seemed to stay for long even when he said he wanted to. You decided silently that you would take what you could get, even if it was only five more minutes with him. If he woke up and it was all over, you could die happy. Because at least you got those five minutes. 
You must have done such a good job pretending to be asleep that you eventually did fall back to sleep, being woken up just as slowly as you’d woken up the first time. This time, though, it wasn’t the sounds of the curtains that wormed their way into your sleep. It was a voice. 
“I missed you so much…” You heard from beside you. The weight that you’d felt earlier was still there on your chest, but this time it was accompanied by a hand on your cheek, barely fluttering against your skin. “Please don’t change your mind when you wake up. I want you to stay, Sunflower. You have to stay, okay?”
His voice was so low you could barely tell if you were hearing him correctly. You sucked in a breath, shifting your body slightly so your face pressed into the pillow. You played it off like you were just wiggling in your sleep, and Harry seemed to fall for it, because his little murmurings only continued. You tried your best to listen, his voice muffled slightly as he brought his words to your neck, almost kissing you but just barely grazing your skin. 
“I’m going to be so much better. I promise I will be.” You could just manage to make out, the feeling of Harry’s mouth on your neck almost distracting enough for you to tune him out entirely and focus solely on the sensation. You could feel him breathing against you, his free hand still holding yours tightly. He spoke for a while longer, all of the words kept secret for only him and the mattress to hear before he laid his head back down on your chest with a little nuzzle. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, Sunflower. I missed you so much… Please wake up and be nice to me. Please stay. Please say you’ll stay…”
Eventually his voice trailed off entirely as you continued pretending to snooze, Harry’s hands taking it’s place in soothing every cracked and broken part of you as they skirted across your face and your hands and your arms. He didn’t lay a hand on your chest or abdomen or anywhere on your legs, making sure to keep every touch as gentle and acceptable as possible. You could feel his fingers tracing over the familiar pattern of the freckles on your forearm, connecting the dots as his breathing harmonized with the wind. 
After what felt like an eternity, you couldn’t stand the waiting anymore and let your eyes flutter open again. You didn’t want Harry to know you had heard what he’d been saying, worried you might embarrass him, but you couldn’t stand thinking he was feeling the same way about you as you did about him. Like you might change your mind. Like you might not have meant all of the little, lovesick things you’d mumbled to each other the night before. 
You turned your head to face Harry, who was now completely still on your chest, pressing a kiss onto his forehead. You wondered if he might have fallen back to sleep, but as soon as your lips met the sleepiness of his skin he was turning his chin up towards yours. His eyes were wide like saucers when they looked up to meet yours, his expression a cross between panicked and excited and barely awake. His eyes were still puffy and tired, his cheeks that shade of rose they normally were when he passed out on the couch or took a nap on your lap. He blinked at you for a second before barely letting his mouth turn up in a smile. 
“Hi.” He whispered.
“Hi.” You whispered back.
Things were quiet then, the air of the room moving around you like someone brushing your arm at a party. You both breathed a little unevenly, as if on the edge of some cliff that neither of you were brave enough to be the first to jump off of. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, Harry did the same. 
“You first.” You giggled, trying to squashed the part of your stomach that was twisting and thrashing around with nerves. You didn’t dare lift your hands to touch him, keeping them pressed where they were on either side of you. 
“You first.” Harry parroted, shaking his head softly. His curls fell down onto his forehead, kissing his eyebrows. You sucked in a breath as quietly as you could, wondering if Harry could feel your heart pounding under him. 
“Did you sleep okay?” You settled on asking, not sure what the fuck else you were supposed to say in a situation like this. The unease in the room permeated the blankets and made your legs and hips ache, that same tension that had constricted your blood vessels since you got here back full force as you waited for him to say something, anything. 
“I slept really well, actually.” Harry nodded, lifting himself on an elbow as he let out a yawn. “How did you sleep? You didn’t have any nightmares, did you?”
You were flustered and flattered at the same time when he said it. You shook your head softly. “No nightmares, no. I slept really well.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah.”
Harry’s eyes never left yours, and you had to resist the urge to pry yours away. You couldn’t stand the way he was looking at you, so soft and expectant. So beautiful. It made you sick to your stomach and you tried desperately to think of something, anything to say to him to ease the tightness you felt all over. You wracked your brain, trying to come up with some kind of small talk, only to come up with nothing. You were about to give up entirely, to throw yourself into his chest and just forget talking all together when Harry finally spoke.
“You regret it.” He spit out, suddenly sitting up in the bed next to you. The motion stirred the covers on you, letting a cool blast of air hit your exposed legs. “It’s okay if you do. I’m not mad or anything, I swear. I’ll just, uh, I can call Bethany for you if you want and we can figure something out-”
“What are you talking about?” You shot back just as urgently, sitting up so you were face to face with Harry. He didn’t say anything, his face just silently heating. “I don’t want to leave, Harry. I didn’t- I don’t-” The words caught themselves in your throat, and you had to swallow once to clear the way for them to come out. “I didn’t change my mind.”
Harry’s expression didn’t change, still just as serious and uncomfortable as it had been. “You didn’t?”
“I didn’t.” You agreed. You tucked your hair behind your ears, tugging the blanket up to at least cover your lap. “Did you?”
Harry shook his head violently, reaching out to grab your shoulder. “No! What? No, of course I didn’t!” He promised, yanking his hand away as if he had realized what he was doing. He looked back and forth between his hand and your face for a second, as if in shock. “I promise I didn’t. I meant all of it, everything. I meant every word of it.”
You felt that pain in your throat again, the kind you always got when your neck started to warm with tears. You swallowed it down, not wanting to make an absolute fool out of yourself and have Harry think you were completely crazy. You took too long trying to compose yourself, Harry scooting himself closer to you and reaching out like he might touch you again but stopping just short of making contact. 
“I told you I would only say the things I meant.” He whispered, eyes flickering between the two of yours. “And I meant all of it. Every single thing.”
Your entire body betrayed you as a broken smile made its way onto your face, your spine folding so that you were collapsing into Harry’s chest. His arms were immediately wrapped around you, his hands smoothing over your back and your arms as your eyes continued to water just enough to be noticeable. 
“I meant it, too.” You whispered into his neck, pressing the faintest kiss you could fathom right over his heartbeat. “I don’t want to go, Harry, I don’t. I don’t, I don’t…”
And just like that, whatever invisible wall had been built between you in the night shattered into a million tiny shards, Harry hands engulfing your face and pulling your mouth to his. He kissed you like he meant it, like he had been kept up all night thinking about it, his thumbs running softly under your eyes. You both let out relieved breaths, neither of you caring for the moment that you still needed to shower and brush your teeth. It only took a moment for Harry to lay you back down on your pillow, his body propped on an elbow next to you so that he could hover over your chest.
The kisses turned more feverish, as if both of you had a million things to say and just couldn’t find the words. Harry’s free hand slid down your cheek and onto your neck, pulling you up enough so that he could swallow every little noise you couldn’t help making. After an hour or maybe two minutes or maybe an entire day had passed, Harry let himself break the kiss, falling onto his side so that you were face to face, noses nearly touching. 
“I feel like I’m still asleep.” He murmured, voice hushed so that even the birds outside seemed to chirp louder. “Am I dreaming? I feel like I’m dreaming.”
You giggled like a school girl in love, reaching up to pinch Harry’s cheek. “You’re awake.” You breathed, smiling even harder as his dimples lit up his face. “I missed you.”
“I missed you so much more, Sunflower.” Harry insisted, leaning forward to kiss you firmly one more time. “I was so worried you would regret it. I couldn’t sleep last night because I kept thinking I would wake up and you would be gone.”
“I’m not going anywhere, baby. Promise.” 
Harry’s face reddened again at the nickname, his body visibly relaxing with the tiny confirmation that you’d meant what you said before. You reached out your pinky, only for your hand to be swatted away by Harry’s. He reached out his thumb instead, laughing airily as he watched your brows furrow. 
“It’s stronger than a pinky promise.” He clarified, moving his thumb forward again in an invitation for you to do that same. You did what he wanted and wrapped your thumb around his, gripping as tightly as you could with the single digit. Harry smiled, that young kind of smile he always pulled out just when it would hit you the hardest. 
“Promise?” He asked again, hand still connected to yours. You nodded your head, mentally making a list of every single thing you had to be grateful for that brought you exactly to this moment. This golden, fragile moment. 
“I promise.” You told him, meaning it more than you could have ever conveyed. 
///
The two of you didn’t move for at least another thirty minutes, kissing each others faces and telling each other about your dreams and brushing the hair out of the other’s tired eyes. You kissed for so long your lips started to tingle, the rest of your body following suit in a warm kind of daze. You almost felt high, you were so relaxed. Buzzing everywhere. 
“I have to pee so bad.” You said eventually, though you made no move to get up. Harry just kept kissing your face and your cheeks and your eyelids, humming like he heard you but also making no effort to let you out of his grip. When you physically couldn’t wait any longer, you pushed him away by this chest, scrunching your face away from his to avoid any further (and much appreciated) affection that might distract you from the problem at hand. “I seriously have to go.” You reiterated, earning a childish groan as Harry threw himself back onto his pillow. 
“I s’pose you’re not going to let me come with you?” Harry questioned, eyeing you as you braved the cold and stood up out of bed. You chuckled, trying to flatten out your hair as you shook your head. 
“I’ll be right back.” You told him, shivering slightly as the breeze knocked right through you. “I just need to brush my teeth and take a shower.”
Harry sat up then, furrowing his brow in a pout. “What? No.” He said, standing to get himself out of bed to follow you. “I want to shower with you.”
Harry moved passed you to the window, pushing the panes shut so at least a bit of the chill was removed from the room. You crossed your legs, bobbing up and down slightly, and gave a confused laugh. 
You wanted to be excited by the idea of showering with him. You were excited. But at the moment, you were entirely too preoccupied with trying not to pee on the floor that you couldn’t even wrap your mind around the idea. 
Before you could catch up, Harry was already starting off down the hallway. By the time you’d skittered off to the bathroom, he was already there with a toothbrush in hand. 
“Seriously, Harry, I have to pee so bad.” You whined, standing with your hands balled up in fists at your side as you watched him through the mirror. “Please go, just for a second. Please.”
Harry already had a mouthful of toothpaste before you could even finish your plea. He pulled the brush out, voice muffled and mouth full when he spoke matter-of-factly. 
“So go pee, then.” He shrugged.
“I can’t!” 
“Why?”
You stared at him through the mirror, rolling your eyes slightly. You were in so much pain at this point it was unbearable, your body literally shivering. Harry met your eyes again as he brushed, letting out a frustrated huff as he took in how shattered your expression was. 
“I don’t see what the issue is.” He mumbled, spitting into the sink and turning to face you fully. “I’ve literally seen you go to the bathroom with Logan, like, a thousand times before.”
“That’s different.”
“How is it different?”
“It just is!”
Harry stared at you, and you stared at him, neither of you breaking the stalemate for at least a painful five seconds. Finally, Harry sighed dramatically and stomped out of the bathroom, swinging the door closed behind him. You heard him grumble something about “being thrown out in the yard like a dog” as you scurried to yank your shorts down your legs. You barely managed to call out a strangled “Thank you!” before collapsing.
When you were done, hands washed and body much more relaxed, your threw the door back open to find Harry sitting just across the hall on the floor, hands covering his ears. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, ushering him back inside with a tilt of your head. Harry, as annoyed as he tried to seem, was back on his feet in less than a second, following you back to the sink as he wrapped his arms around your waist. 
You brushed your teeth, a bit of a challenge with Harry stuck to your back and face shoved into your neck, but you managed. The more difficult part was when you attempted to wash your face, water splashing up and body barely free enough to lean down to the sink as you wiped your face clean. 
When you were finally done you turned to Harry, who immediately pressed fresh-breathed kisses to your mouth. You let it happen when he lifted you onto the counter, situating himself between your legs as his hands cradled your still slightly damp face. 
“Let's go back to bed.” He decided, making the suggestion as he bit softly on your neck. “We can just stay in bed all day. We’ll order a pizza or something if we get hungry.”
“You need to go on a run.” You reminded him, only earning another dramatic groan from him. “And we need to make breakfast first. And I have to call my mom today, and I have an interview later…”
“Later when?”
You pulled away, realizing Harry was dead serious. His hands never left you as you two spoke, always touching you somewhere on your arms or legs or face. You took a deep breath, running your hands through your hair. 
“Well, I have the interview at 4.”
“That’s hours away!” Harry scoffed, throwing his head back. “We have all day!”
“Yeah, but I have a lot to do before then!” You threw back just as incredulously. “I have to shower and call my mom and I need to do my makeup and get dressed…”
Harry, seemingly without hearing a word out of your mouth, was already hoisting you up into his arms and wrapping your legs around his middle. He spun you around, carrying you out into the hallway. 
“You think too much.” He spoke, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “And you can say all you want but there is no way I am leaving this house today. Fuck my run.”
And before you knew it you were being tossed back into your bed, the bed you now shared with Harry, being swallowed by the comforters and warm arms. 
You wanted to fight it harder, but you couldn’t bring yourself to actually do it. How could you, when he smelled so good and he kept whispering those things to you? How could you possibly go anywhere when he was kissing your neck like this? He was the moon afterall. You were helpless not to get sucked in with the tide. 
///
The night before had been one hazy, lovedrunk, daydream. 
After Harry had run off to find you some clothes, you had taken the time to look at yourself in the mirror. You took in the way your skin was glowing, the way your hands shook as they pushed the hair off your shoulders, the way your neck was absolutely devastated by bite marks. You crossed your arms over your chest, feeling somehow even more exposed now that you were alone to look at yourself, barely suppressing the giggles that threatened to rise out of your throat. You were only pulled out of your daze when Harry came back in a moment later, hands still empty.
“I changed my mind.” He said hastily, pulling you into a kiss harshly. “I don’t want you to get dressed yet. I want you to stay just-” He kissed your cheek firmly. “Like-” and then your neck. “This.” and finally your mouth again. You both were totally hopeless and stupid and soft, giggling into each other and smilling so hard you could barely connect your lips no matter how badly you wanted to. 
The rest of the night went a lot like that, hours slipping by without you even noticing as you and Harry talked about everything under the sun. Your plans to order celebratory pizza were forgotten, along with your bubble bath, almost as soon as you both had curled up under the covers. “We’ll just stay here for a minute.” Harry had said after pulling you out of the bathroom. “Then we’ll take our bath.”
But a minute turned into hours and before you knew it you had spent the entire night doing everything and nothing at the same time. It was at least an hour before Harry had finally given you some clothes to put on, (you were complaining that you were cold, which was the honest truth), and after that you and Harry found yourself in every corner of the house. The one promise that Harry did end up keeping, to no one’s surprise, was the champagne that showed up on your doorstep. Or, Harry’s doorstep. (You flinched for a second, recoiling at the fact that you were so swept away in the moment that you’d forgotten this was Harry’s house and not your own. You felt a tiny tingle of panic at the thought, but you brushed it off.)
You and Harry talked about everything. Even after spending much of the past week catching each other up on what they had missed, it turned out there were still quite a few things to be shared. Things that you both could actually bring yourselves to say now. Things you couldn’t possibly have confessed to the other before everything was out in the open. 
You ended up all over the place, sitting on the floor in the kitchen and laying on the dining room table and sitting on the patio outside. When you were still curled up in bed, not even dressed yet, you and Harry talked about love and relationships and what you both were looking forward to most having one another again. 
“We can do whatever we want now.” Harry was humming softly, stroking your hair as he peppered the top of your head with kisses. “We can go wherever we want to. I’ll take you to Italy… We’ll eat all the pasta we want to and we’ll go swimming and I have this house we can stay in that I always go to. And when the pandemic is over you and I can go visit your mom.” Harry gasped suddenly, propping himself up on an elbow. “And you can meet my mom, too! And my sister! You’d love them, I know you would.”
You couldn’t do anything but smile, pressing your cheek into Harry’s chest where he held you. He adjusted his grip on you, wrapping his arms around to stroke along the length of your back. 
“And we can have a big party with Anders and Logan and Rachel. And Logan can make those cupcakes she always makes, with the maple syrup in them. And her and Rachel won’t have to worry about anyone seeing them and we can-“
You perked up at that, your eyes widening instinctively at the mention of Logan and Rachel being a couple. You were trained at this point to sit on edge whenever their names came up together, and despite how nice the things falling from Harry’s lips were this was no different. 
“What do you mean?” You asked cautiously. You’d not said a word to Harry about them, keeping your promise to Logan even when it came to him. Harry narrowed his eyes at you, looking genuinely confused for a second. 
“About what? The cupcakes?” He asked, shaking his head softly. “We can ask her to bring something else, I just like those ones-“
“No-“ You stopped him, huffing out a short laugh at his hang up on the baked goods. “I mean about Logan and Rachel. What did you mean by that?”
Harry’s face flashed with recognition as he let out a hum of understanding. 
“I mean cause they’re a couple.” He said plainly, making your skin flash cold for a moment. “Did you think I didn’t know?”
“They’re not-“
“Logan told me about it.” Harry interjected, sensing your unease. “She told me about it a long time ago, actually. I assumed she would’ve told you that I knew by now.”
“She didn’t.” You scrunched your nose, shaking your head side to side. As far as you knew, Logan and Rachel’s families were the only ones who knew aside from you and Anders and Layla. (And by proxy, Max). You felt a tinge of jealousy, though you weren’t sure why, knowing Logan and Harry had been talking this entire time. It wasn’t a shock to you that it had come up. Still, you wondered how long ‘a long time’ was. “When did she tell you that?”
Harry sighed, gazing up at the ceiling. “Gosh… I don’t know. Like September, maybe?”
“September?” You barked, sitting up straighter. Harry flinched, eyes widening as he let out a soft ‘what?’. “She didn’t even tell me until after the Halloween party.”
“I’m sorry-“
“No, no.. It’s okay. I just figured…” Your voice trailed off, your mind replaying everything that had happened the last few months. “I figured she’d tell me first, is all. When did she tell you about it?”
“Don’t tell her I’m telling you this, okay?” Harry insisted. “She was just having a hard time and I remember after that sleepover at your parents house I had called her and asked her if she was okay. Cause you’d said she was being weird, and all…”
“Uh-huh…” You listened intently, trying all the whole not to take it personally how somehow Harry knew Logan’s biggest secret before you’d even seen it coming. 
“We talked for a while and she ended up coming over… And she wasn’t going to tell me but she was so upset and it just kind of came out.” Harry grimaced at the memory, eyes flickering across the room over your head. “And she made me swear not to tell, not even you. And I wasn’t going to be a prick and say anything, and she was so upset… I wanted to tell you, especially after the Halloween party, but I couldn’t tell you that I knew she wasn’t sleeping with Christian because then I’d have to tell you how I knew and… and I couldn’t, Sunflower. I’m sorry, I just-“
“Harry, don’t apologize!” You cut him off, smoothing the frown lines on his face with a kiss. “I’m not mad, I’m just… surprised, I guess.” You chewed on your lip for a while before shrugging. “I’m glad she had someone to talk to about it. I felt so guilty for being so mean to her..”
“She wasn’t mad.” Harry said quickly. “She knew what you would think, it was just a lot for her. She told me she wanted to tell you but she was just really scared.”
“I wish she wouldn’t have been..” You frowned, knowing fully well what a big deal it was to someone to come out but still wishing Logan would’ve known right away that you would’ve been supportive of her no matter what. Suddenly you squinted, a revelation dawning on you. “So even though I was freaking out about Christian and her, you didn’t say anything? Didn’t you think it would have made me listen to you after our fight?”
Harry looked shocked, offended even, that you would suggest it. He shook his head more aggressively this time as he spoke. “No. No way. I would’ve taken that to the grave if I had to.” He rushed out, shaking his head again for emphasis. “I wouldn’t have done that to her just because you were upset. I wish I could’ve, and I’m sorry you were so upset… I wish I could’ve helped but I just couldn’t-“
“It’s really okay! Really!” You promised, pressing a heated kiss to his lips. “You’re a great friend, Harry. Im glad she told you.”
You moved passed it after that, silently deciding not to mention it to Logan that you knew Harry knew until it came up on its own. As far as Logan knew you hadn’t uttered a word of it to anyone, and never would. A weight was lifted off of you in some weird way, having at least one other person you didn’t need to guard yourself around. Harry went on, having brushed over the whole thing, telling you more about what he’d do with you now that you were his ‘girlfriend’. (He made sure to emphasize the word each time he said it, drawing out the syllables and wrapping his lips delicately around the word in a smile). He told you how you two would go for walks and he would take you out on a proper date and you wouldn’t have to worry about who saw you. You didn’t dare bring up the fact that you still had both of your teams to think about, that there was still a lot to be discussed before anyone said anything publicly. He just looked so excited, you couldn’t bare squash it. 
By the time you’d ended up outside, both of you laying on your backs and staring up at the stars, you were both almost an entire bottle of champagne deep. The ground swayed underneath you as you tried to focus your attention on something solid; the feel of Harry’s hand holding yours, the shape of the trees in the distance, the sound of Harry’s voice. Harry didn’t move to look over at you when he spoke after a small stretch of silence, his body a puddle next to yours the same way you felt right now. He spoke suddenly, giving you no preamble before throwing his question at you. 
“Can I talk to you about something?” He asked, his voice rising up above your heads and stirring the stars that hung over you. You felt the words fall back down onto your tingly legs and your hands and your cheeks as you nodded. 
“Of course.” You breathed, rolling over a bit sloppily to look at him. Harry threw you a glance before turning back to the sky. “What is it?”
“You don’t have to look at me.” He said softly, hands toying with the strings of his hoodie. “It makes me nervous.”
And so silently you rolled back over, focusing again on the patterns you could see over your head. You wished you knew more about constellations and space and all of that so you could make sense of the shapes you were seeing. 
“I meant what I said when I told you I talked about you in therapy.” Harry started, his voice a low rumble in his chest. His fingers still twirled around with his strings, his unease basically pooling on the ground around him and seeping into your clothes. “But that’s not all I talked about. I talked about a lot of stuff, actually… Like, I talked about everything.”
You weren’t sure if this was a pause meant to be filled by you, so you left it empty. Harry crossed his legs and uncrossed then again, before settling on crossing them in the other direction. He was nearly as on edge as he had been at Margot’s house, the topic of therapy and what happened there still seeming to set his skin on fire when he thought of it. 
“I just don’t want you to think I wasn’t doing anything while we were broken up. And if you're worried that I’m just going to mess up again, I swear I won’t- or I’ll try not to- and, and… And I learned a lot, you know? I just want you to know that.” He let out a shaky breath, deciding for a few soft seconds what to say. “I just had a lot of stuff to work on and I know you’re probably mad but I need to- I just needed to figure it out, you know? And I’m not perfect yet or anything but I’m still working on it and I promise you I’ll be better this time. Okay? I promise.”
Harry had finally rolled over to look at you, gauging your reaction long enough to see you nod. He laid back down, speaking again before you had the chance to tell him not to apologize again. 
“I talked about the band, mostly.” He told you, his breath baited. Your skin prickled all over at the mention. Since you’d known him you and Harry had obviously spoken about One Direction here or there, but honestly he didn’t seem to like to bring it up that often. Mostly he’d tell you stories about going to Rome or things Niall had said to him or the pranks he used to pull on Liam. He never went deeper than that, and despite your curiosity you never pushed him further out of his depth. 
So, to hear him bring it up now, totally on his own… It instantly had your heart pounding. You weren’t even sure why, but the simple fact that he was comfortable enough to talk about it even though he hated it had you feeling a mix between apprehensive and flattered and straight up nervous. 
“Do you want to talk about it?” You posed hesitantly, not wanting to ask for more than he was ready to give. Out of the corner of your eye you could see him crossing his arms behind his head, his chest rising in a shaky kind of way. 
“I do, yeah.” He barely forced out. “I’m sorry for ruining the mood, I just… I can’t talk to anyone about it and I haven’t even told Anders because I know it’ll break his heart. He’s, like, super into Midnight Memories right now…” Harry let out a short, tired laugh. “If you don’t want to listen to me you don’t have to. I just-“
“I want to hear it.” You told him, propping yourself up so that you could meet his eyes. “You can tell me anything.”
Harry just looked at you for a second before turning his head back to the sky. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he started to talk. 
And he talked for a long time. He talked about the band and you tried not to think about how your entire life had been a lie as he went on and on about all of the awful things he’d been through. You felt hot tears roll down your cheeks but you suffocated the sounds in your chest so he wouldn’t be able to tell.
“I didn’t hate it, though. I know I’m really lucky and I loved being in the band, it’s just…” He sighed, his voice verging on strained. “I was just a kid, you know? And I didn’t realize it before but I never… I didn’t… I didn’t ever really recover from that, you know? There were so many things that I didn’t get to do, and I know it’s stupid because I got to do so much, but I just feel like I missed out. Like I don’t even feel like a person sometimes.”
You sniffled once, blaming it quickly on your allergies and not on the emotions raging around you. “I’m really sorry.” Was all you could think to say. For what, you weren’t sure. Sorry you’d never asked him about it before. Sorry you had ever even listened to One Direction, or bought their tickets, or watched the interviews you knew now Harry had been so torn up during. Sorry it happened in the first place. 
“Don’t be.” Harry waved, shrugging. “I loved it. I just had a lot more to deal with than I thought I did.” He did the thing with his legs again, crossing them a few times before forcing them to settle. “I think with the whole thing, you know… I had a lot of issue with letting people close to me. And I know you said at Margot’s house that I let people in just fine, but I didn’t- I never really let people close to me like it seemed. I was only ever trying to make everyone happy… to make them like me, you know? And then I had all this stuff about intimacy and relationships.. 
“Anyway, I spent all this time just thinking I was broken when I was just… I don’t know. Just stuck, I guess. And I know I wasn’t a good boyfriend to you before and I know I was mean and I overreacted and I’m jealous and I’m not saying I couldn’t help it, I just…” He moved his legs forward a bit so his toe just barely touched yours, his body searching for some kind of comfort from you even if he couldn’t meet your eyes. “It’s like, when I was forced to kind of tell the world everything about my life it just kind of felt like I didn’t even have anything for myself. And especially when it came to girlfriends, I just… I was always worried I’d mess up and everyone would hate me and think I was awful and so I would just give up. I was always afraid I’d do something wrong. And the press would ask me everything, I was still a fucking teenager and they’d be hounding me about who I was sleeping with, and if I broke up with someone then there’d be stories about it and everyone would call me a womanizer. Even when I really liked someone I always just gave up eventually because I couldn’t go five minutes without thinking everything was going to come crashing down. Like someone would tell the world what a shitty boyfriend I was, or that I was mean… And it just didn’t seem worth it to me. I couldn’t trust anyone. And even once I got out and I thought I was doing better I still let everything get to me. And it’s like Christian knew that, too, and it’s not just because of him that I wanted to break up, it was everything. He was right about everything. He always did that, he’d always hit me where he knew it hurt the most…”
His voice trailed off, but his mouth opened a few times like he had more to say, so you kept quiet. 
“I don’t know what I’m saying. I guess I’m trying to apologize for not being, uh… what did she call it? Emotionally available, I guess.” The noises of the city were dying down now, the air becoming a bit stiller as it engulfed you. “I’m not trying to say that what I did was okay, but I just want you to understand it. It was never that I didn’t love you, or that I didn’t care, because I did. I cared so much, about everything. I cared too much. And I could just feel myself giving up and I was so scared all the time and I knew that if I didn’t stop myself I would just push you away and I’d hurt you… And, fuck, I mean… I know I still hurt you so badly, but for the first time I didn’t want to just give up. I didn’t want to keep being that person who was lonely all the time because I couldn’t just let myself be happy with someone. I wanted it to work with you, and even if I had to let you go so that I could work on it I had to at least try.”
Finally, Harry sat up fully, pulling your arm a bit drunkenly so that you would sit up, too. He pulled you in for a kiss, his lips hot and wasted against yours. 
“I’m so sorry, for everything.” He whispered against you. You found yourself speechless even though your skin was screaming for him. You wanted to tell him it was okay, that you could be patient and kind and that you would try harder, too. But when his hands wound into your hair and you shimmied yourself onto his lap, you couldn’t bring any words out from your chest. “I love you so much. I’ll be better for you, I promise I will. I’m doing my best.”
His voice cracked in the very last word, and despite the slurred emotion in his voice you could feel him hard pressing against your center. You eased against him, letting a soft whine fall from your mouth. 
“Don’t apologize to me again, baby.” You begged, tangling your hands into the hair at the base of his neck. “I’m not mad at you. I understand, and I’m so proud of you, Harry. I’m so proud.”
You weren’t sure when it happened but he was crying, the sloppy, tipsy kind of crying he always did when he was drinking. He kept kissing you, so intensely it knocked the air from your lungs. You felt every emotion at once, your chest literally caving in on itself as you tried to make sense of even one emotion you felt. You pushed Harry away softly, wanting to see his face, but you couldn’t get him to pull off of you long enough, his grip only tightening on your cheeks. 
“Harry, look at me…” 
“No.”
“Harry-“
Finally you were able to pry him off of you, holding him at a half-arms length by his shoulders. His bottom lip stuck out from his frown in a way that made him look his age and also every age that came before him. He was somehow 16 and 21 and 7 all at once. You wiped under his eyes, cocking your head to the side. 
“I’m really proud of you, Harry. I mean it.” You told him, eyes pouring into his everything you couldn’t put into words. “You’re okay. Everything going to be fine. You’re not broken.”
His chin did the thing it always did when he was trying hard not to cry, wrinkling slightly before it all eventually spilled over and he was barely holding himself upright. You tugged him into your chest, kissing him everywhere your lips could reach. He just cried quietly for a while, a theme with the two of you lately. It might have been an hour or two minutes that passed before he sat up, pawing at his face. 
“Sorry for that.” He laughed, letting out a puff of air from his cheeks. “I’m drunk I think.”
You laughed with him, kissing him one more time on the cheek. His eyes fluttered shut, taking a second to blink back open once you’d pulled away. 
“It’s alright.” You told him, rubbing his arms. “Thank you for telling me all of that. It means a lot that you trust me with it.”
“Only you.” He breathed. “Just you.”
An hour passed by you seamlessly, the sky completely dark now. Harry had kept going, talking on and on about everything he’d learned or talked about in therapy. It was like a can of worms had been opened and poured all over the ground in front of you, soaking into the concrete and seeping into every crack; he couldn’t stop even if he tried. He talked about growing up and his dad and more about the band, this time keeping you pressed close to his chest in his lap but still not meeting your eyes. He breathed against your neck, your face, your hair, spilling out every single ounce he’d been holding in for the last decade. 
“I don’t think I want you to call me Harry Fucking Styles anymore. If that’s okay.” He spoke once you’d both finally stood up to get back inside. “I know you think it’s funny but it, uh.. I dunno. It kind of makes me feel bad. So just.. I don’t know. I don’t mind it that much but if you could just-“
“I won’t say it again.” You cut him off, furrowing your brow at his backtracking. “You don’t have to justify yourself.”
“Okay.” He squeaked, smiling a bit shyly. “Thank you.”
The next place you found yourself was stretched out on the dining room table, your heads on opposite ends and feet brushing one another’s shoulders. You weren’t sure why or how you ended up there, but the table wasn’t getting too much use anyway. Harry didn’t talk anymore about the band or therapy or any of that, and you didn’t ask any questions. You told him about the jobs you’d been doing in London before you came to his house, and about how lonely you’d been all by yourself. 
“Having the team around was nice and all but you know how it is…” You were rattling on. “It’s just not the same as having you or Logan or Anders around. It’s like I was never alone but I still felt lonely all the time. I even would’ve liked to have Bethany around…”
“I know what you mean.” Harry agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of your socked foot. “I feel that way, too.”
Next you started telling him about all of the things you’d done back in LA while Harry had been away. You told him about how you hadn’t been out much with Logan anymore, but you’d still somehow lost your favorite pair of shoes at some party or another. 
“I haven’t even been going out anymore, so I don’t know where they could’ve gone. I got them from a store in St. Louis so I can’t even buy a new pair…” You were complaining, seemingly finding the story interesting enough in your drunkeness to share. “After everything with Anders I stopped going to parties and everything aside from a few, but I still ended up losing them…”
“They’re probably in your mess of a bedroom.” Harry snickered, sitting up on his elbows so he could see you. He looked suddenly very serious, his brows knitting together. “Do you want to talk about that?”
“About the shoes?” You scrunched your nose, giggling softly. “I think I’ll be okay.”
“I mean about Anders.”
You mimicked Harry’s body language, propping yourself up just enough to see him. The ceiling fan above your head whirred in the background, making a soft ticking sound every few seconds like a timer was about to go off if you didn’t think of something to say. Eventually that timer ran out and Harry spoke again. 
“You don’t have to or anything, I just thought maybe you’d want to. We didn’t really talk about it a lot.”
He was right. Aside from the first day or two after you’d been here, when you cried in the kitchen telling Harry about what happened, neither of you had brought it up again. It hung over you every single day since it had happened, casting a shadow over every otherwise pleasant moment. Being with Harry was the first time you felt it hang over someone else, too. He was covered in the shade just like you were. 
“I don’t know what I’d say.” You finally spoke, palms sticky as they pressed against the wooden table. “I talked about it in therapy a few times but we’re still, uh, working on it. I haven’t really let myself think about it.”
“And what would happen if you did?” Harry asked, his voice holding that same kind of calm doctors and therapists always had. It soothed and rattled you at once. “I just mean, what are you afraid might happen if you talk about it? You don’t have to if you don’t want, but I’ll listen.”
You’d never thought about it that way before. Whenever it popped into your mind, and it did all the time, you just forced it back down where it came from. Because it was scary, and it hurt. It hurt worse than anything you could’ve fathomed before it. Your life was split in two after what happened, consisting now of a “before” and an “after” and nothing else. You’d been cut right down the middle. 
“I’m afraid if I talk about it then I won’t be able to pretend it didn’t happen anymore.” You spoke without thinking, realizing as the words came out that it was true. “If I just don’t let myself think about it then it’s like it never happened. And then I don’t have to worry about him.”
Harry just nodded, laying back down on the table so he could watch the fan blades as they spun over him. 
“I worry about him all the time.” He shared, instead of asking you for any more. “I worry about him so much it makes me sick. I mean, he always calls me to tell me when he’s not doing well and I’ve been able to help him but what if one day he doesn’t call? What if he decides not to tell me he’s having a bad day and he does something stupid? What am I supposed to do then?”
“I don’t know.” You answered plainly. Because you didn’t know. You’d been down the same train of thought more times than you could count, eventually deciding on ignoring it the same way you had been. Because if you told yourself he was fine and just didn’t mention it, then you had no reason to worry, right? “You know I barely spoke to him for weeks after he got back from rehab. I couldn’t stand it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” You admitted, feeling shitty and gross for saying it out loud. “I still talked to him every once in a while but I usually told him I was busy. I just- I couldn’t even look at him. It’s like the only thing I could think of was the way he looked when I saw him and I was so angry even though I knew I shouldn’t have been-“
“Says who?” Harry frowned, sitting up again. “You have every right to be angry. You’re allowed to feel things even if his problems might seem bigger. You should totally be angry.”
You chewed on your lip, wanting to believe him but still feeling a red hot kind of guilt wash over you. You’d never, ever spoken any of this aloud, even to Logan. And nobody had asked. 
“I don’t want to be angry.” You barely whispered. “It makes me feel bad.”
“Well if you ever want to be angry, or if you decide you want to talk about it, I’ll listen to you.” Harry offered sweetly, his hand coming out to rub up and down your extended leg nearest to him. “I won’t ask you about it anymore if you don’t want but I’ll be here if you need me.”
You laid yourself back down, staring at the ceiling. You were conflicted, unsure if you wanted to open that door and step through or if you should keep the key hidden under the mat where it had been for months now. You hadn’t even realized you’d made your decision until your mouth was open and words were coming out and spilling all over your chest. 
“Did he tell you it was because of the fight with Christian?”
“Yeah.”
You nodded, assuming that was probably the extent of what Harry had heard. Anders never talked about it, and you never tried to bring it up. You figured he wouldn’t have told Harry any of the details. 
“Did he tell you anything else?”
You heard Harry sit up, but you didn’t look up to see him. “No.” He said, sounding a bit sad. “He didn’t.”
“I stayed at his house for a while after the Halloween party. I saw how he was.” You began, arms wrapping over your chest like a comfort blanket. “He slept all the time but I figured he was just healing, you know? But then I left and I started hearing less and less from him and… and I knew something was wrong. I knew something was wrong and I didn’t do anything about it.”
“It isn’t your job to do anything.”
“But I could have.” You choked out, wiping a silent tear away before it ran down your temple to your ear. “I tried calling and he never answered. He never let me come over. I just decided to show up one day and he was with some random girl and… I don’t know. I could tell he was high but he said it was just the medication. And then he told me to leave.”
“Y/N…”
“He told me I was crazy and that he didn’t want to hear me talk about you anymore.” You continued, feeling your neck and shoulder stiffen until they were completely taut. “So I left him alone for a while. But I knew… I knew he was on drugs. I just didn’t want to admit it.”
Harry was sitting up fully, criss-crossed next to your ankles. His hand still traced pattens across your legs as you spoke, encouraging you to keep talking as much as you wanted to. 
“Anyway, he calls me one day and he’s telling me how I’ve been a great friend and how he loves me and I just… I knew what he was going to do. He didn’t want me to come over but he promised I could the next day but then the next day came and he wouldn’t talk to me so I just showed up.”
It was quiet for a minute, Harry making sure you were done before speaking. “Is that when you found him?”
All you could do at this point was nod silently, tears scorching your face faster than you could wipe them away. Harry scooted close to you, taking it upon himself to wipe away the evidence. 
“You don’t have to talk about it, flower.” He whispered, shushing you softly. “It’s okay. He’s fine. You don’t have to tell me about it.”
You shook your head, sucking in shaky breaths to try and calm yourself. You were afraid for a second that you’d start panicking, but the feeling on Harry’s hands on you kept you rooted. You sat up, pressing your knees to Harry’s. 
“I showed up and he didn’t answer so I just walked in.” You began again, sniffling in the ugliest way you could have. 
“He never locks his door…” Harry filled the silence, shaking his head. You let out a dry laugh, nodding. 
“I know! It’s annoying.” You breathed, taking another deep breath. “But I guess it’s good that he didn’t this day. But, uh, I walked in, right? And it was so quiet, Harry… I could hear the shower running and so I told myself that meant he was fine but I could feel it. I knew he wasn’t okay.
“So I go into the bathroom and I’m honestly hoping I’m just going to walk in on him naked at this point, and that he’ll yell at me or whatever… But he didn’t. And I… I opened the curtain and he was..”
Fuck. You pinched your eyes closed, huffing out harsh breaths to keep yourself from hyperventilating. Harry ran his hands over your hair and your face, whispering softly that it was okay, it was okay, it was okay…
“He was just laying there. He was still dressed and everything but it was like he wasn’t even there. And I just stared at him telling him to get up but he didn’t listen.
“I don’t know how long I stood there but I just kind of snapped out of it and jumped into the shower. I turned the water off and I kept trying to pick him up but he was so heavy… And I tried talking to him but I don’t even know what I said. He was looking at me but it wasn’t- he wasn’t even seeing me, you know?”
You let out another dry laugh, watching your hands wind around each other in your lap. “You know what he said to me when I finally got him to talk?”
Harry’s entire expression looked pained, even his body seeming sad. “What did he say?”
Even though you smiled you still felt yourself cry harder. “He said I looked like a frog. And then he said he was sorry.”
Harry didn’t laugh with you, only wincing softly. His touch recoiled from you so he could run his hands over his face, his own rattling breath sounding out this time. 
“Anyway, the paramedics got there and I stayed at the hospital with him for hours until he woke up. I think I blacked out or something, like genuinely, because I don’t even remember waiting there. But he finally woke up and I was so relieved and scared and sick to my stomach, and you know what he said to me?” Harry shook his head. “He told me it was funny. And that I shouldn’t act so fucking serious. And then he cried until he fell asleep.”
Harry didn’t say anything, but what did you expect him to say? What could he possibly say to make any of this better? After a few beats had passed he took your hands in his own, pulling them into his lap. He kissed your cheek once, a totally innocent gesture, before finally speaking. 
“That’s fucked up.” Was all he said, making you let out a tiny chuckle. “Seriously, Y/N. I’m sorry you had to go through that. I- I wish I would’ve been there to help. You should’ve just called me and I would’ve been there-“
“I know.” You agreed, knowing that as badly as you wanted to put space between you and Harry at the time that was the only thing that could’ve made it any better. “I know I should’ve. I really needed you, Harry. I needed you.”
Harry tilted his head to the side, squeezing your hands. “I’m sorry-“
“I needed you and you weren’t there.” You repeated, holding your face in your sleeves. “I needed you, Harry. I needed you the whole time, when I was having nightmares and when Anders was in the hospital and- and- and I needed you to finish those Oreos with me. I needed you and you weren’t there and I know I said I wasn’t but sometimes I’m really, really angry about that. I know you needed space and I know you-“
“Don’t say that.” Harry cut you off, his frown cemented on his face now. “I never needed space from you, Y/N. I know you needed me and I’m sorry that everything happened that way… but I needed you, too.”
His breathing was a bit erratic now, his chest rising and falling in rough pants. “I needed you, too. I told you from the beginning that I needed a friend and I know it was selfish of me to expect that from you but don’t ever say I didn’t want you around. Because that’s not true. I wanted you the entire time.”
Your chin was lifted with a single finger, Harry’s hand forcing you to look up at him. “You are allowed to be angry and I’m really, really sorry. But I needed you, too. I was at my absolute worst and I was completely alone. I didn’t have anyone-“ He stopped himself suddenly, closing his eyes for a second. “Sorry. I just mean, I would’ve been there for you. I know why you didn’t want me around but you have to know that I wanted you, too. I thought about you everyday.”
You just nodded, wiping your face one last time. “I’m sorry for saying that.“ You told him, feeling a fresh wave of shame wash over you. After everything Harry had told you, especially tonight, you hated yourself more deeply than ever for what you’d done to him. He’d told you over and over that he needed someone, and you left him out to hang. You didn’t even think about what he might have been going through. 
“It’s okay. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
“It’s okay.”
Harry smiled softly, pulling you into a hug. “So are you guys good now? Anders never told me you weren’t talking.”
“We’re good, yeah.” You told him, pulling out of the hug. “I never really told him I was upset, I just avoided him for a few weeks. Didn’t you think it was weird that he was always with you and not me?”
“I didn’t really know.”
“Yeah, well… We’re fine now.” You continued, plopping your hands down on your thighs. “And he’ll be okay. It’s not like he’s out buying drugs or anything while he’s with his parents so at least I don’t have to worry, right?”
Harry’s face flashed with something you couldn’t quite place, his face paling almost completely white. Then, he just nodded. “Yeah.” He spoke, running a hand over his throat. “Right. He’s fine.”
Like the two of you were trained to do, you brushed off every negative thought and feeling and moved on quickly, putting on some music to lighten the mood. You danced around the kitchen and the living room, finishing off the champagne that had been abandoned outside. When you were both too tired and tipsy to stand you collapsed onto the couch and made out for a while, Harry telling you over and over again how much he loved you and how he’d missed you and how he never, ever wanted you to go. 
“I’ll never leave.” You swore to him between breathless pants, pulling him closer. “Never.”
Somehow you ended up on the kitchen floor, Harry for some reason curled up on your lap this time, his chest pressed to your as his head burrowed into your neck. You both giggled softly, telling each other again and again and again how much you’d missed the other.
“This is nice.” Harry hummed happily, snuggling closer onto your body. “Feels good to be held.”
“My legs are numb.” You cackled, not minding at all as you lost sensation because at least you had him close to you. “Are you getting sleepy?”
“Are you trying to get me into bed?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow as he pulled back to look at you. You rolled your eyes, kissing his dimple that had nestled into his cheek. 
“Yeah, to sleep.” You told him, your eyes threatening to close. “I don’t think I could have sex right now even if I tried. You took it out of me earlier.”
Harry gasped in faux shock, covering his mouth with a palm. “Sex? Who said anything about sex?” You threw your head back in a groan, smiling even as you tried to act annoyed. Harry’s hand slid up your side under your shirt, his fingers pressing into your ribs as he leaned into your ear. “I’ll just use my fingers instead, huh? I never said I wanted to have sex, there’s a million other things we could do.”
“You can jack off if you need to, but I’m out of commission.” You giggled, turning your cheek a bit to keep his lips from tickling your ear. 
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He fired back. And with that you pushed him off of your lap, springing to your feet and running sloppily up the stairs. Harry let out a whine, saying something about how he was “only kidding!”, following close on your trail. 
Harry managed to catch up without much of an effort on his part, taking your arm in a single warm hand and yanking you into the bedroom as he stepped around you. In one swift motion he threw you over his shoulder, tossing you onto the bed and letting himself fall directly on top of you. You let out warm giggles against one another, feeling like you were floating on air or maybe somewhere in the ocean or even in space. Everything felt fuzzy and technicolor and beautiful. You tried to push Harry off of you so you could sit up, but he wouldn’t budge. 
“I’m sleeping right here.” He breathed against your chest, tightening his grip around you. “M’not moving from this spot. Ever.”
And he didn’t. You stayed up a while longer, listening to Harry talk more about all the plans he had for you now that you were his. The promises pitter-pattered onto the mattress like rain on a tin roof, eventually lulling you both to sleep. 
///
Back in the present, Harry kept his word and held you up in bed hours longer than you’d said he was allowed to. He kissed you everywhere, scrolled quietly on his phone, read a book, all while pressed against you or with an ankle crossed over yours or a hand twirling your hair around his finger. Not even for a second were you apart, Harry tiptoing behind you when you went downstairs to get water and keeping up his streak of sitting in the hallway just outside the door whenever you got up to pee. Eventually it was him who needed to get up to use the bathroom, and you in your cocoon of blankets just nodded without much of a thought and continued typing out your text to Logan about what you had been up to. Harry, who had taken at most two small steps away from the bed, stopped in his tracks. 
“Aren’t you going to come with me?” He asked, looking over his shoulder at you. He furrowed his brows, genuinely confused why you were still laying down when he had decided to get up. You let out a light laugh, realizing he was deadly serious. 
“Go with you to the bathroom?”
“Yeah?”
You just looked at him for a second, him raising his arms in a “what?” gesture, before you finally set your phone down on the pillow next to you and got up. Harry smiled, pleased with himself, taking your hand in his while he walked an entire 20 feet to the bathroom. 
He detached his hand from yours, leaving the door open while he went inside. You didn’t think much of it, making mindless conversation the way you had been for hours now about which TV shows Harry had watched as a kid and what movies you thought were underrated. You could hear Harry shuffling inside after a while but you didn’t give it any mind until he stepped around the corner to lean against the door frame. 
“-but honestly, I think that the second one was better than the first one just for the fact that-”
Your sentence was stopped right in the middle, a record scratch sounding off in your head as Harry stepped around the corner completely naked. You gasped so hard you started to choke, Harry throwing you a crooked smile as you looked up at him with teary eyes. 
“For the fact that what?” He asked, cocking his head to the side as if he were totally at ease. He probably was totally at ease, come to think of it, Harry never shying away from letting you see him. You, for some reason or another, turned your head to inspect the patterns in the woodgrain of the floor. “What’s the matter, hm? Y’alright?”
“I’m great, yeah.” You choked out, still not daring to look up. Harry let out a little giggle, walking back into the bathroom with a lazy “okay then”, the sound of the shower running following a few second later. 
You were paralyzed, sat on the hallway floor. You couldn’t breathe, let alone stand. It wasn’t until you heard his voice ring out to you that you were thrust back into your body. 
“Aren’t you going to come shower with me?” He asked, your head snapping over to follow the sound. Still you didn’t speak, and you heard Harry pop his head out from behind the shower door. “Y/N? Hello?”
You were going to get into that shower with him even if it killed you, and you were seriously suspecting that it might as your knees rattled and shook as you finally stood up. You tiptoed into the bathroom in a way akin to a child creeping into their parent’s bedroom in the middle of the night. You could just make out the shape of Harry’s body behind the glass, your blood suddenly running as slowly and steadily through your veins as the drops of water were down the shower wall. You pulled your hoodie over your head, tossing your shorts aside with them, and slowly slid the door open. 
“How nice of you to join me.” Harry grinned at you, pushing his wet hair out of his face. He pulled you closer to him into the stream, the heat of the water making you let out a little yelp as it made contact. “I was starting to get lonely.”
If you thought you were weak in the knees before, you were basically a puddle by the time you adjusted to the feeling of the warm water on your skin. You stepped fully under the spray, closing your eyes as you turned your face to it, letting out a soft hum. It felt like summer all over, the heat searing through all of your love-softened muscles and making you feel almost dizzy with relaxation. 
You felt Harry come up behind you, pulling you away from the water and into his chest so your back was pressed to his chest. He wrapped his arms around your middle, resting his chin on top of your head. His fingers drew patterns lazily on your abdomen.
“This is nice, yeah?” He asked, pressing an innocent kiss to the crown of your head. You hummed in response, leaning your head back onto his shoulder with your eyes still closed. Harry’s hands continued moving across you, coming up to rest on the full of your breasts. You tried not to think too long about how naked you were right now. There was something about the quiet intimacy of it all that made your skin burn under his gaze more than it normally did when he saw you like this, because for the moment neither of you were distracted by anything else other than the soft sound of water falling. Harry’s attention was placed fully on you, and you could feel it everywhere. 
“Is that my shampoo?” You asked, trying to keep your mind straight and distract Harry from his fawning over you. You felt him turn his head to look where you were pointing on the rack across from you.
“Yeah.” He said, giving a short laugh. “You didn’t notice that I had it before?”
“I saw it, I just wasn’t sure if it was actually mine or not.” You answered. You turned around so that you were facing him, his hands not straying from you as he kept you pressed tightly to his front. “Is it actually mine? Like from my house?”
Maybe it was the heat from the shower, but you swore you could see a soft blush come over Harry’s face. He smirked, as if that could distract you from it, nodding. “You left it at my house so I kept it.” He shrugged, as if it was nothing. 
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“Why did you keep it?”
He paused for a second, chewing on his lip. He shrugged again. “Because I like how it smells.” 
You gazed up at him, knowing your face was soft and totally love-dumb. Harry couldn’t help but lean down to kiss you, moving his lips slowly on yours for a few seconds. He eventually moved his lips to your jaw and then into the wet crook of your neck, nibbling and sucking softly. “And it reminded me of you. I couldn’t stand to get rid of it…” His hands tightened around your waist as he sucked harder on your neck. “Couldn’t bear it…”
You smiled, moving your hands into Harry’s hair, knowing that he meant it. You imagined him, all those months ago, sulking around his house collecting all of your belongings you’d left scattered throughout his life. You wondered if he was sad at all while he did it, or if he did it in a hurry… Maybe he had looked into the shower as an afterthought, bag already full of your items, just happening to find your shampoo and conditioner there as he was preparing to head to your house. You imagined he had shoved both into the bag without much of a thought, only to walk into the hallway and stop in his tracks. You could practically see the crease between his brows as he took the shampoo in his hands, looking it over thoughtfully before putting it back where he’d found it. He probably told himself not to think too much about it, promising himself you wouldn’t notice it was missing. 
“Why didn’t you just buy some for yourself then?” You asked, biting away your smile. You knew what you wanted him to say, and the look on his face as he pulled away told you he was about to. He chewed on his lip shyly. 
“Because that one’s yours.” He answered, “And I wanted to keep part of you just for myself. Figured you wouldn’t notice I still had it.”
“I didn’t.” You told him, kissing his cheek. The air around you was becoming thick despite the airyness of your conversation, the steam from the water running behind you making the space around you feel stuffy. 
“And I kept it because-” Harry started saying, shaking his head halfway through. “Nevermind.”
You giggled, pressing a fingertip into one of Harry’s dimples. “Because why?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.” You whined, wiggling your knees. Harry rolled his eyes playfully, looking away. 
“It’s embarrassing.”
You lifted yourself on your tippy toes, wrapping both arms around Harry’s neck. You blinked at him a few times, softening him up before making an offer.
“If you tell me what you were going to say then I’ll tell you something even more embarrassing.” You posed, making Harry raise his eyebrows with curiosity. 
“How do you know it’s more embarrassing?”
“Because.” You said, trying not to laugh as you considered the idea of actually telling him what you were offering to share. “It’s the most embarrassing thing in the world. Nothing can top it, I promise you that.”
He thought, eyeing you carefully. He pressed his lips into a thin line. His words came out in a rush as he started to speak, his eyes meeting yours in a cautious kind of look. 
“After the VMAs sometimes I would use your shampoo right before bed so that the next night whenever I would go to sleep my pillow case would smell like you.” He blurted out. You immediately stuck out your lower lip, letting out a pained kind of whimper.
“That’s not embarrassing!” You promised him, kissing him right on his reddened cheek. “That’s actually really sweet, Harry.”
“Not really.” He laughed, his blush reaching all the way to his naked shoulders. “Just sad, mostly. Pathetic, even.”
“Well I think it’s sweet.” You disagreed. You pressed your cheek onto his wet chest, the residual water left on his skin feeling warm against your face. “I wish I could’ve been there to sleep next to you instead. I’m really sorry.”
“Not your fault, sweetheart.” He whispered, resting his cheek on top of your head. He waited a minute before pulling your face away from his chest. He slapped on a smug expression, raising a brow. “Now it’s your turn.”
You pouted for a second, hopes that he might forget you’d even offered totally dashed. “I don’t wanna say.”
“You have to!” Harry scoffed. “Those are the rules! I tell you, you tell me. You can’t cheat.”
“Fine..” You grumbled, already feeling your ears prickle with embarrassment. Again with the ‘rules’ business... You buried your face in his chest again, not daring to meet his eyes. You spoke into his sternum, your voice muffled entirely by the running water and his body in front of you.
“What was that?”
“I said-” You huffed, lifting your face to meet his expectant gaze. “I used to have a cardboard cutout of you.”
Harry’s mouth fell open, his eyebrows raising nearly to his hairline as he let out a loud giggle. “No fucking way…”
You just looked at him, giving him a sorry kind of look. He laughed again, eyes moving back and forth between yours. “Tell me you didn’t…” He spoke again when you didn’t answer. When you still didn’t say anything he took his face in his hands and started shaking with laughter, knees nearly buckling under him and he bent forward into your shoulder.
“I can explain!” You cried out, grabbing Harry by the shoulders. He looked at you, shaking his head in disbelief. “I didn’t have it in, like, a serious way! Logan bought it for me and-”
“No, no, no! I heard what you said!” Harry cackled. “You can’t backtrack now!”
“No, listen! Logan bought it for my birthday when I was, like, 16! Like as a joke, I swear!”
Harry crossed his arms, biting away his smile. “So what, I’m a joke to you?”
“No, I- I just mean I didn’t, like, buy it for myself or anything.” You crossed your arms, too, taking a step back from Harry. “I’m not crazy, or anything.”
“But you kept it in your room?” Harry asked almost like he already knew. You frowned at him for a second before nodding. 
“I did, but-”
Harry put his hand up to stop you. “That’s all I needed to know, darling. I get it- You’re obsessed with me and you always have been. I can’t blame you, no need to be embarrassed.”
You turned away from him, stepping back under the water as if it could wash away the color from your cheeks. Harry just continued giggling at himself as you reached around him to grab your shampoo. 
Harry stuck an arm out to stop you. “What outfit was I wearing? Was it one of those fucking blazers?”
“Leave me alone!” You cried out, letting Harry pull you back into him. You frowned against his chest. “I didn’t tease you at all about what you said! You’re being mean!”
“M’not!” He countered, pulling your face up for a chaste kiss. “I think it’s sweet.”
“It’s not sweet, it’s creepy…”
Harry looked at you for a second, grinning devilishly. “I mean, it is... But I won’t hold it against you.”
You rolled your eyes, reaching again for the shampoo. “As if using my shampoo isn’t just as bad, you… you… you weirdo.” You mumbled, earning another belly laugh. You stepped away from Harry, struggling to open the bottle for a second with slippery fingers. 
“Let me do it.” Harry stopped you, taking the bottle from you easily. You were feeling a bit grumpy after all of that even though you had been the one to offer to tell him something embarrassing, not even wanting to look at him anymore as you turned around. Your sour mood was only lessened slightly as you felt Harry’s hands move into your hair, massaging the shampoo into your scalp. You closed your eyes, letting your body relax under his touch. 
Harry turned you around, instructing you to keep your eyes closed as he rinsed the product out of your hair. Harry hummed softly, some song you remembered him playing for you earlier in the week. Next he combed your conditioner through your strands with his fingers, stopping every once in a while to press his lips against your cheek or shoulder or mouth. 
Once your hair was cleaned and conditioned and your brain gone totally fuzzy, Harry grabbed your loofa from the hook attached to the shower wall and poured a bit of your body wash onto it. (You had found some in the bottom of your suitcase a few days after arriving to Harry’s house, slightly to your disappointment. You kind of liked using Harry’s).
Harry raised your arm delicately by the wrist, running the soap over your skin agonizingly slow. If you weren’t careful you were certain you would fall asleep standing up, so you forced your eyes to stay open. You watched Harry as his eyes scanned over every part of you, his gaze following his hands as they moved down your legs and across your chest. You could tell straight away it was turning Harry on as he dragged his hands over you and you tried to force your eyes away from his hardening prick pressed nearly to your stomach. 
Harry put away the loofa when he was done with you, pulling you into his chest before you could rinse yourself off. His fingertips dragged up and down your body deliciously smoothly, making you shudder.
“Are you still mad at me?” He asked, his mood shifted completely from his playful teasing a few minutes ago. You were suddenly rendered speechless as you met his eyes, shaking your head. He smiled, giving you another deep kiss. “Good. Because there’s so much I want to do to you and it won’t be nearly as fun if you’re mad at me.” He cocked his head to the side, smirking. “Or maybe it would be, come to think of it…”
You didn’t say anything, just pressing yourself closer to him in the form of a response. You ran your hands up his back, looking up at him without any hint of humor or annoyance. You wanted him, more than anything, to do all the things he so badly wanted to do to you. 
Harry looked like he wanted to say more, changing his mind when he looked into your puppy dog eyes. He leaned down, locking his lips with yours in a kiss that was slow and sweet and wholesome. His hands, still slightly soapy, held your cheeks, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. 
“I love you.” He mumbled, deepening the kiss. “You know that, right? I was only teasing you… I love you so much.”
“I know.” You answered breathlessly, hands running down his sides to rest on his hips. “I love you, too.”
He pulled away. “Yeah?”
You panted. “So much, baby.” He smiled down at you. “Kiss me.”
Harry listened, returning his lips to yours like it was a promise. He swore to you how much he loved you with the hands that dug into your hair, with his mouth that moved so effortlessly with your own, with his breathing that you could hear becoming more and more shallow. Eventually you couldn’t stand the anticipation, moving to whisper into Harry’s ear. 
“What were all those things you wanted to do to me?” You asked, out of genuine curiosity and the want to spur him on. He just laughed lightly. 
“Why? Feeling eager?”
You didn’t bother lying to him. “Yes.”
He liked that answer, kissing you again. You could feel him smiling against your lips and you could practically see the lightbulb flickering on above his head. 
“Something about being in the shower just turns you on, huh?” He asked, taking the underside of your jaw firmly in his hand as he moves his kisses to your neck. He turned your face to the side to give himself more access to your wet skin. His free hand came to your belly, slowly dragging down your slippery skin. “Can’t seem to keep your hands off yourself when you’re in here, can you?”
You bit down, sturdying yourself. “It was only twice…” You protested. Harry ignored you. 
“I’ve thought about that a lot since you told me about it, Sunflower…” He whispered, kisses landing almost on your ear at this point. “My pretty girl all wet and lonely, thinking about all the things I could do to her…”
You swallowed, the hand just above your throat making it slightly difficult. You couldn’t deny the way your body was burning for him right now at his words, even if it was meant to embarrass you. “That’s what you were doing, right? Touching yourself thinking about all the things you wanted me to do?”
You nodded against his grip as he pulled away to look at you. He wasn’t smiling the way you expected him to be, his face looking serious and almost pained with want. “Tell me what you were thinking about when you made yourself cum, Sunflower.”
You didn’t want to, but your mouth started moving almost instantly anyway. Harry’s eyes watched your lips move as you spoke, his own jaw shut so tight it looked like it would be sore in the morning. 
“I was thinking about the Halloween party, when I sucked you off in Rachel’s bathroom.” You panted, swallowing hard again at the end. “I was thinking about how you tasted and how you were pulling my hair and, and…” 
Harry cut you off when you found yourself too out of breath to keep taking. He kissed you again, moving his hand slightly lower on your abdomen. “That’s what you were thinking about while you got off? Putting me in your mouth?”
You whined in response, nodding frantically. You knew you must look silly and desperate, but you were falling apart at the seams and you just couldn’t help bending to him. Harry grunted at your answer. 
“You’re so hot. You’re, like, the dream girlfriend..” He gushed, speaking into your parted lips as he kissed you hungrily. His facade was cracking a bit, too, the same way yours was. Suddenly he took your wrist in his hand, pulling it down to rest on the soft of your belly. “Show me.”
You froze, feeling a cold wash over you despite the warm water hitting your back. Harry pulled away, swollen lips a dark raspberry color as he stared at you. “Show me how you do it, baby. I wanna see.”
You shook your head, feeling yourself catch fire everywhere. “I can’t-“
“You don’t have to. But wouldn’t it be fun if you did?” He moved to kiss you again, hand tightening even more under your jaw. He moved his lips so they brushed against your ear. “You’ve watched me do it.”
“You like being watched.” You retorted quickly. Harry chuckled, pulling away again. 
“I never knew I did, but I guess you’ve changed that for me.” He smirked. You swore the shower was suddenly ten times hotter as his eyes burned into yours. Harry pressed a thumb onto your lower lip, pulling your mouth open. He gazed at your parted lips, wetting his own with his tongue, before continuing. “If you don’t like it that’s fine. But if you at least try for me, I’ll fuck your pretty little mouth just like I did at the Halloween party. You want that, don’t you?”
You nodded. 
“That’s what I thought.” Harry grinned, pulling your hand again until it was pressed nearly against your center. Your arm was limp in his hold, not even trying to fight him as he moved you. “Go ahead and show me, baby. Gotta make sure I’m doing it right, yeah? You can teach me.”
You pressed two fingers right on your bundle of nerves, trying to hide the shiver that ran up your spine. “You do it better than I do.” You pouted, still giving Harry a hard time even as you did exactly as he said. He shook his head, eyes flickering down to your hand. 
“Teach me, baby.” He repeated. You breathed heavily for a second before nodding shyly. You were immediately pushed into the shower wall, not too roughly, able to tell right away how much Harry was restraining from shoving you into the tile with all his strength. You could basically feel the want rolling off of him as he kissed you hungrily, giving you the courage you needed to start moving your fingers against yourself. You let out a gasp at the feeling, making Harry pull away from the kiss quickly as his eyes snapped down at your hand.
“Fuck, baby…” He purred, sliding his free hand so it rested right on top of yours as it moved over yourself. He kept his other hand on your jaw, pressing you backwards, as he watched your hands move together. “You’re doing great, Sunflower. Bet that feels so good.”
You just moaned in response, the warmth spreading throughout your abdomen almost enough to distract from his eyes on you. Harry slowly moved his hand that cupped your jaw lower so that it was pressed against your throat. 
“Is this okay?”
You gulped. “Yes.”
He was quiet again as he watched you, aside from the sound of your heavy breathing mixing together. You were grateful for the closeness of your bodies, somehow feeling a little less embarrassed than you would have had Harry been standing back just staring. Every few seconds, as your arm moved slightly, you could feel Harry’s length brush against you. 
You felt that familiar ball of twine winding itself tighter in your belly, warning you that you were already close to finishing. Your heart pounded harder at the realization that Harry would be watching you as you came. He had so many times before, but for some reason this was different. 
You looked up at Harry’s face, waiting a few seconds for him to look back at you. Finally he met your eyes, your eyebrows turning downwards immediately in a silent plea. 
“Are you close?” He breathed out, his own brows furrowing so tightly you would have thought he was the one getting off. His cheeks were splotchy and red, like always, the familiarity of that same look on his face comforting you slightly. You nodded, giving Harry your best puppy dog eyes. 
Harry removed his hand from your throat, making you whine in disappointment. Harry gave you a half smile as his eyes searched every part of your face. His thumb came up again, opening your mouth and pressing against your warm tongue. You immediately closed your mouth around the digit, brows turning down even more as you felt yourself teetering right next to the edge. 
Harry’s mouth fell open watching you, his breathing becoming even more uneven. From what you could tell, he was getting off on all of this just as much as you were without even putting a hand on himself. He looked down at your hand again, watching for a second before looking back up at you. 
“Can I do it for you?” He asked, face looking almost embarrassed as he asked. “I wanna do it for you, baby, please.”
You nodded desperately, removing your hand from yourself and gripping Harry’s biceps instead with both hands. He didn’t flash a teasing smile the way you half expected, his expression totally fucked out and focused as his fingers found you. 
“You did so good for me, baby, fuck.” He panted, running his fingers through your folds. He let out a curse as he felt how wet you were, using the moisture on his fingertips as he pressed against your clit. “It was very nice of you to do that for me, thank you.”
You moaned unabashedly at his praise, sucking harder on his thumb still silencing you in your mouth. Harry kept his thumb there, using his forefinger to grip the underside of your chin, pulling your face up further so that you had no other choice but to look at him. 
“You’re so fucking precious.” He gasped, eyes watching your expression carefully. “But I got kind of jealous, to be honest. I want to be the one to make you cum. I do it better anyway, right?” You just whined at him as his fingers began moving even faster. “Answer me. Do I do it better than you do?”
“Mhmm.” You answered obediently, nodding frantically. He finally cracked a smile, nodding his head to mirror yours. 
“I know I do, baby. You do it better for me, too.” He kept his pace as you felt the burn in your tummy begin to rise. He could tell immediately just from your face that you were about to cum, pulling you by your chin so that he could whisper in your ear. “Cum for me and I’ll fuck you right here in this shower…”
That was plenty to push you over the brink, your legs nearly giving out as you came under Harry’s fingers. To your surprise he didn’t pull you back to look into his eyes this time, instead quickly taking his thumb for your mouth so that he could hold your head against his chest. He stroked the back of your hair, whispering to you how much he loved you and what a great job you were doing. “That’s so good, baby… Good girl….”
By the time he pulled his hand away, you were convinced you were only able to stay standing due to your hands still gripping hard on Harry’s arms. You looked, seeing the deep indents left in his skin from your nails, your head too foggy as you came down to stop yourself from speaking. 
“I hurt you.” You managed to speak through labored breaths. You ran a pointer finger over the marks left on his arm, Harry looking down to watch. 
“S’alright. Maybe I like to be hurt a little bit.” He dismissed you, pulling you in for a kiss. “You did so great, sunflower. You came so good for me.”
But you couldn’t move on that quickly, despite your body being pulled into his as always. “What did you say?”
“I said you did great.”
“Before that.”
Harry furrowed his brows, pulling back just a bit. Suddenly he huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “You mean about being hurt?”
You literally gulped. “Yeah.”
Harry just shrugged, sticking out his lower lip. “I mean, I dunno. Think it’s kind of fun sometimes, yeah?” You could only gape at him, blinking the droplets of water out of your eyes. “Why? You want to hurt me, Sunflower?”
You shook your head erratically, stumbling over your response. “What? No! No, I just-” You swallowed again, laughing awkwardly. “I just didn’t know if I heard you right, is all.”
“Well if you change your mind just let me know.” Harry teased you further, making you ache all over again for him. He pulled you into a slow, needy kiss. “I’d let you do whatever you want to me, flower. I’d let you do anything and I’d like it.”
You kissed him back, just humming softly in response because their were no words you could possibly say to him after something like that. Harry, after a few seconds more of sloppy kisses, got the same way he always did lately, words tumbling out of his mouth as if he couldn’t stop them if he tried. 
“That was so hot…” He panted, kissing you so desperately you could barely keep up. “I liked it a lot, baby, thank you for doing that. You’re the best girl, you hear me? The best. Fuck.”
You reached between your bodies, taking Harry’s length in your slightly shaky hand to silence him. Just as you expected, he sucked in a shaking breath, his rambling coming to an end almost instantly. 
“I like it when you tell me I did a good job.” You admitted, deciding to be honest. He continued kissing you, small noises coming from his lips every few seconds as you stroked him. 
“I know you do, love.” He responded. He rested his cheek on top of your head, hands coming to settle on your sides. “You really are the best girl. I’ve never done that with anyone, it was…” he paused to swallow, letting out a soft moan. “…exciting.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
You smiled to yourself, pleased. It felt nice that, even if Harry had been with more people than you ever had, there was still something special the two of you could say was only yours. Things he had done with you and no one else. You felt your chest swell with pride. 
“I wanna keep going but the water is cold.” You whispered after a second or two. By now the soap had been washed off of your shaking frame, and you were starting to shake a bit from the sting of the cold water splashing you. Harry stopped your hand on him, nodding. 
“You get out and go wait for me, okay?” He decided, though you could tell how much effort it was taking to make his voice seem level. “Let me shower and I’ll come lay down with you.”
You nodded, feeling awful that Harry was forced to shower in cold water now that you both had spent off of the warmth on other things. You felt your pulse quicken even still, your mouth going dry. “You want me to go to the bed?”
“Yes, now go.” He commended, pointing towards the shower door. “I’ll be right behind you, okay?”
You agreed, stepping out of the shower and hastily drying yourself off. Your mind was swimming with all of the things Harry had promised to do to you, hoping desperately that he hadn’t just said them in the heat of the moment. You picked up your sweatpants, looking at them for a second as you heard Harry beginning to wash his hair. You took a deep breath, speaking up loud enough to be heard over the water. 
“Should I get dressed?” You asked tentatively, sweatpants clutched tightly in your fists. You didn’t have to wait long for Harry’s response, which came almost as soon as your question reached his ears. 
“No.” He snapped. You could practically hear how frustrated he was, his voice tight. He poked his head out of the shower door, his wet hair sticking to his face. “Go get in bed and look pretty for me, yeah?”
You nodded, face heating up again. Harry watched you, and you thought you could see him shaking ever so slightly. You figured it was mostly from the icy cold water he was showering in, and partly from how pent up he was. You started to walk out before Harry reached out and grabbed your hand. “Gimme a kiss first.”
You did, leaning in for a quick peck which Harry greedily turned into a heated kiss. He leaned halfway out of the shower, wet hand gripping the back of your head roughly. “I wanna fuck you so bad I think I’m gonna die.” He breathed, pushing you away suddenly. “Now go so I can finish.”
You giggled, unable to stop yourself, skittering toward the bathroom door. You made it out, but not before Harry was able to land a solid slap onto your ass. You looked over your shoulder at him as he watched you leave, shutting the door behind you. 
///
“You know, if you’d told me before that you had an interview to do today, I would have been more careful.” 
Harry was humming softly in your ear, using a brush to paint foundation over the bruises he’d left all across your neck. You rolled your eyes, holding Harry’s waist as he leaned closer to the work he was doing covering up all your spots. 
After your shower, you’d done what Harry said and ran straight to the bedroom. Less than ten minutes later he was coming in, towel draped around his perfect waist, hair messy and wet and dripping onto his shoulders. You’d basically pounced on him once he’d arrived, knowing that this time you were actually going to do it. You could barely stand that wait, enjoying all of the fun and games as much as the next guy but wanting to actually feel Harry inside of you again. Harry had kissed you for a while but dodged your advances, almost freezing up when you hinted at what you wanted. “You have an interview to get ready for”, he’d reminded you, which only made your head spin more. Since when was Harry the type not to take advantage of every available second when it came to sex? He’d made you late on multiple occasions for an extra five minutes with you. Even when you told him you had plenty of time, he just nervously fiddled with his hands and shook his head, insisting that you should get ready and you would do “all of that” later. 
And now you were here, getting ready like he’d told you to, enjoying the smell of Harry’s freshly washed hair and trying not to seem too hurt by the fact that Harry had basically turned you down when you tried having sex with him. You tried your best not to think too much of it, but rejection was rejection and he clearly was not interested. He seemed almost unnerved by it, even. In any case, you forced your mind away from that and onto the task at hand.
“I did tell you.” You laughed, “You just weren’t listening to me, apparently.”
“Hm..” Harry hummed, turning your chin with a finger to get to the other side of your neck. He was back to his normal self now, as if nothing had even happened in the bedroom at all. You supposed he must have been right to act that way, since it really wasn’t a big deal. “Must have been distracted, I guess.” He added smugly. 
He threw you a sideways smirk, making you roll your eyes again. You really weren’t annoyed; you would’ve let Harry mark you up however he wanted to regardless of what plans you had or what appearances you had to make. 
“Distracted using me as a chew toy.” You teased him, feeling his chuckle hit your cheek in the form of a warm puff of air. “How’d you learn to cover up hickies, anyway?”
“You act like I’ve never had one before.” Harry snickered, pulling away a few steps and squinting before setting the brush down. “I’ve seen many makeup artists cover many hickies. I’ve learned a trick of two in my time.”
“It kind of sounds like you're bragging, babe..” You grinned, leaning into his chest. Harry positioned himself between your thighs again where you sat up on the bathroom counter, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. “You’re making me jealous.”
“And you expect me to believe Hudson never gave you a hickey before?” Harry’s voice rattled against your ear, an exaggerated kind of annoyance added to his voice at the mention of the infamous ex-boyfriends name. “I bet he did, huh? Makes me angry just thinking about it. Picturing him kissing you like that… Makes me sick.”
“You sound crazy.” You giggled, selfishly enjoying the way Harry always got so bent out of shape when you mentioned his name. “He really was nice, he just-“
“I’ll kill him.” Harry insisted, pulling you away to grab your face. “Next time we’re in St. Louis. Does he still live there?”
“Harry!” You gasped, your abdomen a bit sore from all the laughing you’d been doing. “I was going to say- He’s a really nice guy, but he never made me feel like you do. Not even close.”
“Don’t care how nice he was, Sunflower.” Harry shook his head. “I hate him. I always have.”
“You’re jealous.”
“Of course I am.”
You just stared at each other silently, a subtle blush painting your cheeks. “Imagine how I feel, then. While I was dating Hudson you were dating Kendall Fucking Jenner. That’s, like, the ultimate insecurity. I definitely have it worse than you do.”
“Never heard of her.” Harry laughed, kissing along your jaw. “I’ve only ever loved you. Anyone else I ever slept with… No I didn’t. I have absolutely no recollection.”
“You’re a pest.”
“A pest who made you cum twice this morning.” Harry scolded you, that same cocky expression on his face. “Watch your mouth.”
You couldn’t ignore the way your stomach tightened hearing him say that, but you acted unphased. “Alright, well…” You choked out, hopping off of the counter and passed Harry. “I have an interview to do. You wanna come?”
Harry had already taken your arm in his as you walked past him, tailing along behind you as you headed down the hall. Glued to you the same way he had been since last night. You mentally prepared yourself, getting ready to answer any and all questions that would be thrown at you in only a few minutes. You rehearsed silently what you would say, how you would smile, how fast you would talk. You went over the list of things Bethany always nagged you about, feeling woefully illprepared without her by your side. 
You did everything you were supposed to, focusing in as much as you could, and yet you were still distracted by that tickling in the back of your mind. That tickle that had formed as you watched Harry’s face change and shrink when you’d made a move on him. The way his hands had danced around each other. The way he wouldn’t meet your eyes. 
As nervous as you were to actually sit down and be a celebrity again after what felt like years, you couldn’t only really think of one thing. 
Harry didn’t want to have sex with you.
///
“So how are you holding up, Y/N? How’s it been quarantining?” 
You adjusted your position on the chair you were sat in, huffing out a breath. 
“It’s actually been really nice.” You admitted with a bit of a smile. “It’s been kind of a shock to the system, honestly. But having some time to just do nothing has really been a nice change of pace.”
You were a digital guest on Jimmy Fallon tonight, something your mom had been talking about incessantly for weeks now. You made sure you were presentable, covering up every spot and making sure every hair was in place the way Bethany would’ve wanted. You sat in the piano room, Harry just a few feet away on the bench twirling a straw around in his glass of juice. You perched yourself in the same spot you and Harry always used for these things, the two of you having designated the bare, plain wall as the best backdrop since it wouldn’t be recognizable as the same place. 
“I bet it has been a shock.” Jimmy laughed, though you hadn’t even made a joke. “I’ve been going a bit stir crazy here, but I’ve had plenty of time to spend with the kids and my wife so I can’t really complain.” He took a step back, gesturing to his sweatpants he had on just out of frame. “And best of all, I don’t even have to wear pants to work anymore! It’s, like, the greatest feeling ever!”
You threw your head back in a laugh, standing to reveal your own sweats (or technically Harry’s sweats) under your blouse Harry had picked out for the interview. “I’m wearing sweats, too!” You giggled, doing a spin. “It’s incredible, isn’t it?”
Jimmy just laughed, nodding along. “It really is! So, tell me how you’ve been keeping yourself busy. Working on any new music?”
“Oh, gosh, no.” You shook your head. “I’ve been writing a little bit, but I’m taking a much needed break from everything else. Mostly I’ve just been, you know… eating toast and sitting around doing nothing.”
“And you’re in London, right?” Jimmy asked, “How did that all happen?”
“Well I was already here and the day I was supposed to leave everything kind of shut down.” You breathed, biting away your smile at the now pleasant memory. “So I called pretty much every person I knew and eventually decided to stay with a friend of mine.”
“A friend?” Jimmy teased, eyebrows raising. “A friend that I would know?”
You pursed your lips, turning your chin up slightly. “I don’t think I’ll say.” You teased, flipping your hair over your shoulder. 
“So it is!”
You shook your head, waving a hand in dismissal. “No, I’m just kidding. It's actually just an old friend of mine.” You let your eyes flicker up to Harry, who was leaning on a fist now and just…. Staring. And smiling like a schoolboy in love. You remembered what he’d said before in his own interview, when he’d dodged the question about you. You smiled at him for a second before repeating his answer, tearing your eyes away from him long enough to look back at the screen. “For the sake of their privacy, I probably shouldn’t say.”
“Understandable.” Jimmy laughed, nodding along. “So tell me a bit more about this toast you’ve been eating.”
“Well, it’s not very good, for one thing. At least that’s what I’ve been told.”
///
Harry somehow kept pushing all of your plans back today. First he wanted to make out on the couch, which you were happy to agree to, then he wanted to make lunch and repaint your toenails and braid your hair. (“I’m really good at it!”, he’d insisted, tugging on your leg that was outstretched towards him. “Let me see if I can do it!”). Eventually you told him with enough force that you had to call your mom, and he actually relented on the condition that he get to talk to her. You fought him on it for a second before thinking it might be a bit funny surprising your mom with him. 
She knew you were here, you’d spoken to her almost every day, but you hadn’t had a chance to tell her what had happened between you yet. So you dialed the phone, holding it out between your bodies as you sat criss-crossed on the floor, pressing the speaker button. 
“Hello little frog!!” Your mom sang out. You could hear the TV on in the background, and you could basically feel how cozy your house back in St. Louis felt. “How are you doing, lovebug?”
“I’m great!” You chirped, looking up at Harry who was trying desperately to hide his snickering. “I actually wanted to tell you something-“
“Is it about Harry?” Your mom spit out, voice hushed to a whisper. “Did you talk to him about everything yet?”
“Yeah, actually-“
“How did it go??” She was telling now, springing up from the couch for sure. “Oh, gosh. I’m so excited! What did he say? Did you make up? Did he buy you more flowers again?”
“Mom..” You warned, feeling your face warm. “I- uh, yeah. We made up.”
“Oh my god!!” She yelled, emotion thick in her voice. “Oh my goodness, sweetheart. Oh wow. Is he there? Can I talk to him?”
Before you could answer, Harry was snatching the phone and taking it off speaker, running out of the room before you could stop him. 
“Anna it’s me!!” You heard him shouting, a smile in his voice. “It’s me, Harry! Hi! Anna, hi!”
You rolled your eyes, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t expect this from him. You tiptoed down the hall, listening in on Harry who was holed up with the piano. 
“Yeah, I know.” Harry was gushing, his footsteps giving away the fact that he was pacing excitedly. “I know…. Yeah… I know!!”
There was a pause, and in the second of silence you realized you were cheesing like a idiot. Your heart felt warm and soft. Like everything was how it was supposed to be. 
“I will…” Harry continued. “Yes, I know…. Yes… I promise I will.” 
It got quiet before you heard him talk again, his voice now hushed in an effort to keep you from hearing him. 
“She is, yeah. She’s good…. Uh-huh… Yes, I’m feeling better… Yeah…” You pressed harder to the door, trying desperately to keep up. “Yeah, I did. I missed you so much, I can’t even tell you.”
Harry laughed at something your mom had said, the noise clear and bright as it entered the hallway. 
“You know I only let her stay here so I could talk to you again, Anna. It was all just a ploy…” He laughed again, cackling fully. “And you can tell your husband to watch his back, okay? I mean it. And tell him I say hello.”
Finally he reappeared, swinging open the door like he knew exactly where you’d be standing. You trotted into the room passed him, laying on the carpet on your back as you had your turn to talk to your mom. 
“Put it on speaker.” Harry whispered, to which you didn’t even try to argue. You both listened to her rattle on and on about all of the things she’d been up to, like the potluck at work and her attempt to get into knitting. You were so content just listening to her talk that you didn’t even notice at first that Harry had fallen asleep next to you, head resting on your chest and hands folded under his cheek. 
“Hey, I have to go.” You eventually said, letting out a tired sigh. “You’ve put Harry straight to sleep with all your yammering.”
“Sounds about right.” She giggled before letting out her own, long sigh. “My little rockstars.. I love you both so very much. Be nice to him, okay? He’s had a rough few months.”
“I am being nice.” You groaned, amazed you’d made it this far into the conversation before she started this line of questioning. “I promise.”
“I mean it, honey. And I’m not even talking about everything between the two of you, either. I mean he’s been through a lot. He’s really had a hard time.”
You frowned, pausing your fingers where they threaded into his hair. “I know, mom.”
“I know you do. I’m just saying.” She paused, a quiver in her voice when she spoke again. “I’m happy for you, sweetheart. I’m just so happy.”
As if on cue, you started tearing up, too. The same as always. “I am, too.” You told her, resting your cheek on top of Harry’s head. “I am, too.”
/// 
When you woke up, Harry was gone. 
And somehow you’d slept for hours. You were passed out on the floor in the piano room, but now you had a blanket tucked around you like a cocoon. 
You sat up, back stiff and uncomfortable, joints cracking all over. You rubbed at your eyes, which were still stuffy with sleep, before softly padding out of the room and into the hall. Almost instantly you were bombarded with nagging and traitorous thoughts about how Harry had rejected you earlier, thinking it must not be a coincidence that he had been entirely uninterested and was now no where to be found when he had been glued to you all morning. 
You must have done something, or said something, or looked a certain way that made him change his mind. You must have done something wrong to make him switch up on you so suddenly when he’d spent the last 24 hours whispering in the heat of the moment how bad he wanted to fuck you, to bend you over the sink or take you in the shower and push you against the door. You couldn’t for the life of you figure out what had changed since then, considering you were maybe just overreacting, as you continued down the hall. Maybe he really was just worried about your interview. That had to be it.
“Harry?” You called out, a little unnerved by the silence. When there was no answer you went deeper into the house, traveling up the stairs. While you were walking you thought you heard a voice coming from Harry’s room, causing you to freeze for a second to trace the sound. Sure enough, you could hear Harry talking to someone. You took a few steps closer, pausing outside the door to listen. 
It reminded you a lot of the night at the Halloween, you crouched in the hall listening in on a conversation you were never meant to hear. In your defense, you weren’t trying to be nosy. You just didn’t want to walk in if Harry was having a conversation about work, or something important. So, you stood there and listened, letting your sore muscles relax at the sound of his voice. 
“-and I told her it wasn’t going to fucking happen. She’s still being a bitch about it, though.”
It was Anders talking, which came as no surprise to you. 
“Don’t call your mom a bitch.” Harry chastised him, despite the slight chuckle in his voice. “She’s trying her best.”
“Well her best isn’t very fucking good. And she is a bitch.” Anders went on, not joining in on Harry’s laughter. “I just can’t stand it here, man. I’m about to go fucking insane cooped up here. I’d rather be in LA fuckin’ alone. I’d rather be on drugs.”
“Don’t fucking say that.” Harry barked. You could practically see the crease in his brows as he let out a shaky exhale. “You’re going to be fine, okay? You’re okay. Count to ten.”
“I’ve been fucking counting.”
“Well count some more.” Harry stopped him. “Count to fucking one thousand if you have to. You’re okay. Are you hearing me? You’re fine.”
There was a long silence, a silence that sent an ache into each of your bones. You knew it wasn’t the right time to walk in, but you also couldn’t drag yourself away. 
“So how did it go with Y/N?” Anders asked after what felt like hours. “Did you tell her how you felt or what?”
“Uh, yeah. Yeah I did.” Harry responded. The chill in his voice had completely dissolved now, an airiness to it now that made your chest flutter all over. “I told her everything.”
“You’re a fucking liar.”
“I’m not!” Harry laughed. “I did. I told her everything.”
Anders hummed for a second. “Everything?”
“Yeah.”
More silence. Then a little giggle. “Okay. Oh my god. I’m trying not to lose my shit right now, fuck. Okay.” Anders let out a literal squeal like you’d never heard him make before, forcing you to press a palm over your mouth to stifle your own laugh. “Holy shit. Okay. Tell me everything, okay? Holy shit.”
“Just don’t laugh at me, okay?” Harry giggled with him. You imagined him sprawled out on his tummy, feet kicked up in the air as he spoke. You were almost certain that’s how he looked right now. “So Bethany called and was all like ‘I got a house for you’.”
His impression of Bethany was atrocious, but you gave him points for the subtle aloofness he gave to her quote. She always seemed disinterested and somehow intrigued at the same time.
“No..” Anders gasped. “Did you freak out? You freaked out, didn’t you?”
“No. Or, yeah.” Harry recanted, “I just told her I wanted her to stay.”
“And?”
“And she was all like.. ‘Why should I stay?’”
Anders huffed out a laugh. “Of course she was...”
“Right. But I think I blacked out for the next, like, 45 minutes, because I don’t even know what happened. We just talked about everything.”
“Everything?”
“Yeah.”
“Like how you slept in bed with me for a week because you ‘just missed her sooooo much’?” Anders giggled, earning an offended ‘hey..’ from Harry. 
“We decided we wouldn’t talk about that.”
“You decided…”
Harry mumbled something about shutting the fuck up, though the two had succumbed totally to a fit of giggles. They stayed like that for a while, snickering like two kids in the back of a classroom. Eventually the sound died down, just as your abs were beginning to hurt from stiffling your own laughter so hard. 
“Anyway,” Harry breathed out in a sigh. “You know what happened next?”
“She told you to fuck off?”
“She kissed me.” 
Harry spit the words out in a voice that didn’t even sound like him, the grin more than evident in the sound. 
“Shut the fuck up.”
“I’m serious.“
“You’re a lair!”
“I’m dead fucking serious!” Harry continued. You heard him shifting behind the door, probably sitting up. “I thought I was going to fucking die, dude. Like my heart was beating so hard I was actually scared I would have a fucking heart attack.”
“I’m freaking the fuck out right now.” Anders chirped. “I’m freaking out. Holy shit. Holy shit, dude. Fuck.”
“I know!” Harry agreed, “I’m still freaking out. I’ve been, like, shaking all day. She slept in my bed with me and everything last night. Felt like a fuckin movie, man.”
“So you fucked, then?” Anders said, getting an offended scoff in response. 
“Shut the fuck up.“
“What?” Anders scoffed right back. “You get laid for the first time in months after literally cuddling me to sleep and you won’t even tell me about it?”
It was quiet for a minute, the gears no doubt spinning full speed in his pretty little head. Finally he spoke again. 
“We didn’t have sex.” Harry admitted, a bit quieter now. “But we did, like, everything else. Multiple times.”
“Let’s fucking go!” Anders screamed, “That’s what I’m talking about!” 
“I know, right?” Harry bubbled. “It was awesome.”
“Better than just kissing her, for sure.” Anders said. “Been there done that. Kind of underwhelming, to be honest.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“I’m just saying!” Anders laughed. “I’ve kissed her before and it was honestly kind of a bore. Not the best kisser I’ve come across, that’s for su-“
“Yeah, okay, fucker. Remind me how my dick tastes again?” Harry cut him off, though the only edge to his voice was a humorous one. 
“The only good part of the kiss, bro.” Anders teased him, making you roll your eyes so hard they almost fell out of your head. “I swear it.”
“Say something about kissing my girlfriend again and see what fucking happens.”
“Girlfriend, huh?”
“Uh-huh.”
It got really quiet for a second after that, when you suddenly heard a sad kind of whimper. It took you a second to realize it was Anders. 
“I’m fucking stoked for you, man.” Anders choked out, shoving the emotion out of his voice. “I mean it. I’m losing my fucking mind over this.”
All Harry could offer was an equally as strangled. “Me too.”
“So does this mean we aren’t having sleepovers anymore when you come home?” Anders spoke eventually. “No more rom coms at my place?”
“Don’t be crazy.” Harry giggled. “I wouldn’t give that up for the world, bro.”
///
You weren’t sure how long you sat there, just listening. You felt bad for eavesdropping, really, but the sounds of them talking warmed you up in every corner. You had laid down on the floor now, curled up in a ball as you listened to them talk about movies and new smoothie recipes and who had written more songs in lock down. Eventually, just as you were about to pry yourself off the hardwood to run down the hall to the bathroom, you heard Harry’s tone get serious and soft.
“Can I be vulnerable with you for a second, bro?” He asked. You furrowed your brow for a second, nearly laughing out loud at his choice of words but choking it down just in time. 
“Always, brother.” Was Anders' response. They were ridiculous, you decided. Basically an old married couple.
“Don’t laugh.”
“Won’t.”
“Okay…” Harry began, that same hesitation in his voice he’d had so many times with you before. “So you know how I told you we haven’t actually had sex yet? Well, I just… I mean.. Honestly, I haven’t had sex with her yet because I’m too scared.”
You braced yourself for the giggling, but it never came. “Why, man?“ Anders asked, only giving you a split second to commend him mentally for his maturity before he added: “Afraid you’ll bust too fast?”
“No, that’s not-“ Harry spoke, only to let out his own dry chuckle. “I mean, yeah. But that’s not what I mean. I’m just worried because I want it to be perfect, you know? Like I just feel a lot of pressure over it because I fucked it up so bad before and I feel like half the times we’ve even had sex are just bad memories for her. What if I fuck it up?” Anders didn’t say anything, letting Harry totally unload before offering his thoughts. “Like it’s really important to her. And then I’m thinking, you know, what if I do have sex with her and then she decides she wants nothing to do with me? Like what if she changes her mind? I won’t ever come back from that, bro, I won’t. I won’t. It’ll kill me.”
Anders didn’t speak for a while, mulling the words over in his mind. “I think whatever happens will be perfect for her, man.” Anders responded. “If you’re not ready, then you’re not ready. She’ll fuckin respect that, dude. Don’t think so much about it.”
“I can’t help it.”
“You can.” Anders said firmly. “You have to. You won’t be able to enjoy all of this if you’re just scared the entire time that it won’t work out.”
Harry sighed, the sound of him being stuck in his head all too familiar to you. “I mean… you’re right. And I’m trying but I just.. Fuck, man. You know? I’m freaking out.”
“So stop.”
“I’m trying to!” Harry insisted, clearly exasperated. “The only reason I’m talking to you now is because I haven’t been able to stay away from her for more than five minutes. She’s asleep downstairs right now and even this is fucking killing me, because what if I go back downstairs and she’s, like, gone? Or she wakes up and decides she wants to leave after all?” He let out an exhausted breath before continuing. “She’s probably fucking sick of me already, I’ve been glued to her all day. Like a fly. And I’m doing everything I can to show her how much I like her, to make it all up to her, and it just doesn’t feel like enough. I just… Fuck, I don’t know. I’m so in love with her it’s like I’m in pain. It hurts everywhere.”
Harry breathed heavily for a second. “I’ve done everything, man. We’re talking like almost ten times, if you know what I mean. I just want her to know I like her, you know? I don’t know how else to prove it other than that.”
“First of all, ew.” Anders groaned. “Second of all, there’s a million other things you can do other than that to prove that you like her. Let your actions speak for you, y’know?”
“Making her cum is an action.”
“That’s-“ Anders let out a deep sigh, giggling jo matter how hard he tried to hold it in. “You know that’s not what I mean. You just need to talk to her. Tell her how you’re feeling.”
“I am.”
“Okay, well fuck me and my advice, I guess.” Anders huffed. “Do you want my honest opinion or not?”
“Give it to me.”
“I think you’re doing that thing where you think something terrible is about to happen when it’s not. You know that thing you’ve been working on?” Harry hummed along softly, probably nodding to himself. “Yeah, that. So just fuckin stop it. I’m telling you honestly that I know for a fact that she’s obsessed with you. Like, actually insane. She acted like she was fine this whole time but she slept in your shirts for weeks, bro. I walked into her house once and she was watching fucking ‘Harry Styles Funny Moments’ on YouTube.”
At that absolutely horrifying admission, (something Anders had sworn he’d never speak of, by the way), Harry let out the sweetest most heart wrenching little laugh you’d ever heard. 
“You’re saying that to make me feel better.”
“I really, genuinely wish that I was.” Anders said dryly, making you wince. So much for taking that secret to the grave. “You’re gonna be fine, man. I promise. And if you decide you want to have sex with her-“
“I do. I really fucking do.”
“Jesus, okay. Well, whenever you decide to do that, maybe talk to her first. Tell her how you’re feeling. Have a fuckin heart to heart, bro.”
“Yeah, because that’s really gonna get her going. Hey babe, I know you’re trying to get fucked right now, but would you mind if I talk about my insecurities first?”
“You’ll be fine.” Anders retorted with a snort. “You know how you’re always telling me I’m okay? That I’m going to be fine? I always listen to you, man. So fuckin give me some credit here and just listen to me for once, okay? You’re going to be fine.”
“I’ll be fine.” Harry repeated, albeit a bit shakily. “I’ll be fine.”
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fuck-kirk · 5 months
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I want to start a new show but haven’t decided what. I’m thinking either what we do in the shadows or BBC ghosts
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chaoswalksthemoon · 8 months
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I wish all those who kill snakes in their gardens and especially other people's yards and also everywhere else a very terrible death
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kj-munch · 2 years
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cute little purple cat horse and his big scary dad (who is also a purple cat horse)
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tutuandscoot · 2 years
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Closeness: A study in B&W
Part 10
~
“People search their whole lives for someone that special, and we have that”.
-Tessa
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