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rafor · 11 months

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Chapter 23 - Day 6 - The Glitch

All I have in this unfamiliar place is a schedule. How wonderful. As I neared the gates, a sudden pang of doubt struck me. Had I informed Erebus of my departure? Or had I overlooked this crucial detail in my haste? I felt a surge of guilt and anxiety. Even though I was accompanied by two of the closest members of the guardians, Fulgor and Calida, I had no assurance that they had communicated my plans to the others. I considered turning back and looking for Erebus. I was always punctual, if not early, for any appointment or obligation. It was part of my nature, driven by a fear of disappointing others or missing out on something important. But before I could act on my impulse, I heard a loud thud and felt a gust of cold air. Fulgor and Calida had landed next to me, their massive griffin bodies casting long shadows over the ground. They had flown so quietly that I hadn’t noticed them until they were right beside me.

“Good morning, Raphael,” Fulgor greeted me with a smirk. “Having second thoughts?”

“Maybe,” I admitted reluctantly.

“Are you afraid of venturing outside?” he asked, his tone teasing.

“No, I’m just afraid I’m not permitted to. Did you tell the others about this?” I asked, hoping for some reassurance.

“Of course we did. Right, Calida?” He turned to his companion, who looked distracted.

“Uh oh. Sorry, what? I wasn’t really listening,” she said sheepishly.

“Oh, come on! Did we talk to the guardians about bringing little Raphael for a visit to our city?” he repeated, sounding annoyed.

“Oh right, sure. Don’t worry. We talked with them. They’re fine with that, but you should never leave us,” she said quickly, trying to sound convincing.

I wasn’t convinced at all. She could have been lying to appease Fulgor or to avoid further trouble. I wished I could trust them, but something in their eyes told me otherwise.

I nodded in agreement and followed them without any further questions. The guards opened the gates for us, which were still shut at this early hour. “So, are you up for a flight of... some hours?” one of them asked me. I hesitated for a moment. I glanced back at my wings, as if I had almost forgotten about them, and then said, “What do you mean by some hours?” He answered, “The kingdom is about five hours away by air, if you can keep up with our pace, of course.” The other one, Calida, added, “We can take a break every couple of hours if you need it.” I thought about how my wings didn’t seem to drain any energy from me. They never made me feel tired, for some magical reason. I said, “I think I can make it.” He nodded and then said, “Just out of curiosity, could you spread your wings for a moment?” I was unsure what he wanted, but I did as he asked. He said, “Yep, you won’t have any trouble with them. Nice wings, by the way.” Calida said, “They look familiar to me.” Fulgor, sounding annoyed, told her, “Oh, come on! Spread your wings too.” She did so, also looking confused. He said, “Now look at them,” and she examined her own wings. Then she looked at mine and hers again and finally realized, “Oh, I see. Same shape.” Fulgor said impatiently, “Alright, enough staring. Let’s take off already. The sooner we leave, the sooner we get there.” I waited for them to take off first. Calida went ahead. I expected Fulgor to follow her, and then me to go after them. Instead, he said, “You go next.” I took off and caught up with Calida in no time. He came behind us shortly after. I didn’t know much about flying in formation, so I just flew next to Calida. But as soon as Fulgor got closer, she said, “Don’t stay next to me. You’ll get tired faster like this.” I apologized and moved back a bit. Fulgor finally reached us. “Clearly, you’ve never flown with anyone before. Didn’t Akira teach you how to fly?” he asked me. I said, “Only once, actually.” He sighed and said, “Aargh, fine, I’ll give you a quick lesson then. Let’s start with this.” He flew next to Calida on her left side, slightly behind her. I watched them from above. He said, “Now do the same thing on her right side. Symmetrically.” I lowered myself to their level and flew to her right side in the same position as him. “Stop right there,” he said. I asked him, “What now?” He said, “You’re good now. Just maintain your position.” He flew above and to my right, then back again, until we were all three in a diagonal line.

We alternated our positions every once in a while, mainly for practice. I didn’t notice much difference in the formation, but I assumed it mattered to them, so I went along. Then the air shifted. We were nearing some towering mountains. We flew below their peaks, not bothering to soar above them. Maybe they sensed that I was not afraid of heights. We didn’t speak much. We used gestures instead. Time was hard to measure without a watch, and boredom crept in. I distracted myself by admiring the scenery and avoiding the glare of the sun, which climbed higher and hotter. The wind cooled me down, thankfully. I wondered how I escaped sunburn. They had feathers to shield them, while I only had my clothes and skin. A pale skin that had acquired some tan lately. We were close to our destination when something struck Calida in the eye. It happened right after we switched places, and I briefly took the lead. Calida cried out, “Agh, I can’t see.” I thought it was some insect that hit her, and so did Fulgor. Then I felt some drops of blood on me. I said, “You’re bleeding,” and tried to get in front of her to inspect. She said, “I know.” Fulgor asked, “What’s going on back there?” I said, “She’s bleeding from both eyes.” Fulgor sounded annoyed as usual. He said, “Really? This happens every time, damnit. Fine, let’s land.” He guided her to the ground near a small stream in the plains. We landed, and she recovered quickly. There was no lasting damage. A little cleaning, and it was over. She had a scratch that ran from the back of her beak to her eye. She must have hit something hard to leave such a mark, even though we were flying at a moderate speed. What could you hit in midair that could cause such a wound? I had no idea or clue. I was lucky it didn’t hit me.

We continued our flight across the sky. The sun was high above us, casting a sharp shadow on the ground below. It was not summer yet, but the air was warm and clear. We flew at a moderate pace, keeping close together. Calida was in the center of our formation, with Fulgor in front and me behind. I watched her carefully, ready to catch her if she faltered. But nothing attacked us this time. We could see the city from afar, or the kingdom, as some called it. The terms seemed interchangeable to them, but to me, they were all kingdoms, enclosed by walls that offered little protection from aerial threats. I spotted a guard griffin wearing ridiculous armor that was heavy and half-baked. It looked more ceremonial than practical, but I guess it gave him some sense of authority.

We were not here for sightseeing, though. We had a mission to accomplish, and we were not welcomed by everyone. As soon as we reached the city limits, a messenger flew ahead to announce our arrival. Soon after, we were greeted by a flamboyant griffin with colorful ornaments and artificial dyes on his feathers. She was an assistant to the queen.

“Welcome back to the Griffin’s City, Fulgor and Calida,” she said with a bow.

She turned to me and added, “And welcome to you too, stranger. I’m Mira. It's a pleasure to meet you!”

I nodded politely and said, “Thank you. I’m Raphael.”

She smiled and said, “Oh, you must be the one the queen has been raving about. She is very eager to meet you.”

I raised an eyebrow and asked suspiciously, “Is that so? How does she know about me?”

She chuckled and glanced at Fulgor, who looked sheepish.

He said, “Well, you know how rumors spread fast around here. Sorry if it bothers you.”

I felt a surge of annoyance and said, “No, what bothers me is that this place is far from the other city, and yet somehow everyone knows about me. Who else should I expect to recognize me? A dark lord or something who has spies everywhere?”

A sudden silence fell over us. He looked at me with alarm and asked, “How do you know about the dark lord?”

I realized I had said too much. I had heard about him from Zeno, but no one else had mentioned him to me. I tried to act casual and said, “What? There’s a dark lord?”

The silence persisted. The tension rose. The pause was awkward.

Mira cut me off. “Enough of this. We have kept the queen waiting long enough, now that you have arrived.” I nodded. “Very well. But are they coming with us?” I gestured to the other griffins who had escorted me. “Of course they are.” She spoke briskly. Then, as she had done before with Fulgor, her gaze lingered on my wings as we prepared to take off. She asked, “May I examine your wings for a moment, please?” I shrugged and complied. It was no trouble for me. I spread my wings for her to see. She circled around them and admired them. “How lovely, and what unusual colors: yellow, blue, and some hints of red.” “Ow!” I cried out as I felt a sharp pain in my wings. She had plucked one of my large feathers, and it hurt. “What was that for?” I demanded. She chuckled and held the feather in her talons. “Oh, nothing. Just taking one. Don’t worry about why.” I glared at her. “Really?” I inspected the spot where the feather was missing. It glowed briefly, then a new feather sprouted in its place, restoring my wing to its original state. Mira muttered under her breath, “I wish I could regrow my feathers like that too.” I heard her and said, “You’re lucky I can. Otherwise, you would have robbed me of a beautiful feather.” She did not apologize or respond. She just motioned for me to follow her. We flew to another location within the walls, a higher spot in the city. I took the opportunity to look around. The buildings were tall and had no doors or windows at ground level. You had to fly to access them. This was clearly a city for griffins only. It was colorful and mostly made of wood. I wondered what would happen if a fire griffin went berserk here. The whole place could go up in flames. There were many water sources around, though. Fountains and streams of clean water flowed everywhere. I noticed a fashion trend for large feathers with red and white accents, but I did not see any griffins or feathers with those colors naturally. We reached our destination in no time. There were no guards at the entrance, which surprised me. The building was relatively small, not as grand as the castle of Queen Aetherius, but still the largest one in this area.

As I followed Mira inside, I realized that I had left Fulgor and Calida behind. It was just me and Mira and whoever else lurked in the shadows of this place. We walked deeper into the building until we reached an open gate. Through it, I saw a dazzling display of colorful glass that shifted and shimmered, casting a kaleidoscope of light on the walls and the floor. I was so mesmerized by the sight that I didn’t notice the queen wasn't in front of me but behind me.

“HELLO!” A loud voice startled me, making me jump and spin around. There stood another griffin, similar to Mira but with a more coherent color scheme. She had purple, white, and light blue feathers that matched her vibrant personality. She seemed to have a fondness for colors, just like Mira. “You scared me,” I said, trying to calm my racing heart. She laughed and said, “I know. I did it on purpose. Nice wings, by the way.�� I sighed inwardly. Everyone seemed to be fascinated by my wings. I hoped Mira hadn’t told anyone that they could regenerate in seconds, or they might try to pluck me for an endless supply of feathers. Luckily, that didn’t happen, and I found myself engaged in a conversation, or rather, an introduction, with the queen.

“Thank you, I suppose. And you are?” I asked politely. She smiled and said, “I’m Queen Astra, Astra Rhea, but you can call me Astra.” I nodded and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty, Astra. I’m Raphael. But you probably already knew that.” She nodded back and said, “Indeed, I’ve heard about you. It’s nice to finally see you in person.” I replied, “The honor is mine. It seems I’ve become quite popular lately. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.” She tilted her head and asked, “Why not? Being popular is fun. Are you afraid of it?” I shook my head and said, “No, it’s just that a lot has happened in a short time.” She chuckled and said, “Well, relax. There’s nothing to worry about. Come on, let me show you something.”

She led me through a maze of corridors, leaving Mira behind. I felt a twinge of anxiety at being alone with someone so powerful and unfamiliar, but I pushed it aside and followed her. She showed me a collection of large, colorful feathers, each with a name underneath it. She explained that they belonged to the kings and queens who had ruled here before her and pointed out their portraits above the feathers. Then she showed me some honorable mentions: feathers or nametags with short descriptions of some notable guardians who had served here. Some of them were dragons. I recognized some of the names from the stories I had heard from Mira and the others, but some were new to me.

I glanced at an empty frame that bore my name, and a sudden dread gripped me. I realized I was about to lose another feather. She spoke to me in a commanding tone: “As a queen, I require a gift from you.” I asked, “What kind of gift? What do you want from me? Do you need my assistance?” She gestured to the frame and said, “Do you see that? It would be a delight and an honor to have something of yours there.” I wondered, “What makes me worthy of such honor, if I may inquire?” She said, “I know you are part of some prophecy, so I expect you will do great deeds.” I said, “That remains to be seen, but I appreciate your confidence.” She then summoned Mira. Mira appeared and said, “I’m here, Astra.” Astra instructed her, “Please take a couple of feathers from Raphael.” I protested, “Wait, let me brace myself for the pain. Besides, I didn’t consent to this.” Before I could finish, Mira plucked another feather from me: “Agh!” Then another one, and another one right after. They grew back instantly. Astra witnessed this and exclaimed, “See! I told you you were destined for greatness. You have the power to regenerate feathers in seconds.” I said, “Thank you, but I’d rather keep them since it hurts enough to lose them.” She replied sarcastically, “You’ll get used to it, my dear.” I wanted to retort, but I held my tongue. She personally placed the feather in the frame, like a trophy, while I watched and wondered if I could ever claim it back. It didn’t matter. When she was done, we went outside and resumed our conversation. They talked about things I knew little about, such as life in the Dragon’s City of Aura. I couldn’t contribute much since I had been there for less than a week and was confined to a certain area. I didn’t mention the behavior of the authorities that I had witnessed, and luckily so, because here they weren’t much different. Outside, the queen bombarded me with questions about myself while Mira tried to help me by slowing her down or interrupting her politely. The queen was nice enough and didn’t take offense easily. She even asked me how I got here and about my personal relationship with Akira and Fyrenthos. She seemed eager to extract every bit of information from me. It was too much for me to handle. I tried to answer one question, but before I could finish, she would ask another one. It was exhausting. Finally, Mira suggested something that the queen agreed to: “I think Raphael could use a break since he flew all the way from the city and hasn’t rested yet. Are you feeling tired, Raphael?” I caught her intention to help me and lied: "Yes, I'm a little tired. I would appreciate that. Thank you.” Astra didn’t notice the lie and said, “Of course, my apologies. I want you to feel comfortable here. Mira, please show him where he can rest for a while. In the meantime, I’ll be around. You still have to tell me about your first flying lesson.” Mira said, “I’m on it. Thank you, Astra.”

I seized the opportunity to slip away from the queen’s presence, with Mira as my guide. We put some distance between us and the royal building, and I whispered my gratitude to her. “Thank you. Really. She’s quite a handful, isn’t she?” Mira answered in a louder tone, “I know she is. She’s my sister after all.” I was taken aback by this revelation. “Really? Does that mean you’re a princess too?” She shrugged. “Technically yes, but only by blood.” I sensed there was more to the story, but I refrained from prying further. I didn’t want to be as nosy as the queen had been. We ventured further into the city, where I hoped to catch a glimpse of Fulgor or Calida, but they were nowhere to be seen. I asked Mira, “Do you have any idea where Fulgor and Calida went? I was told to stay close to them at all times.” She frowned slightly, as if worried. “I don’t know. I think they went to see some of their friends, as they usually do when they come here. I lost sight of them too.” I felt a pang of anxiety. “Do we have a meeting place and time? I’m not familiar with this city. I feel kind of lost, and I don’t know when I should return.” She smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, you’re not expected to go back today. You’ll spend the night here, and then you’ll join them sometime tomorrow.” I was confused. “Oh, okay. I didn’t know that. They told me something different.” We continued our friendly conversation while she showed me around the palace grounds and then the city streets. Everything was fine until it was time to head back to the palace. We flew across the city from the opposite side, in the dark of night. Only a few griffins were still out and about, and we flew close to some buildings that had lights on them to help us navigate. That was when I ran into trouble. I lagged behind Mira for a moment and lost sight of her. I tried to catch up with her without drawing too much attention.

As I soared through the night sky, I was suddenly ambushed by three griffins. One of them snatched me from the air and hurled me across the street, crashing into a building. The impact knocked the wind out of me, and I couldn’t even cry out for Mira. Dazed and disoriented, I found myself in a dark and unfamiliar place. The only light came from a window, where two griffins were perched. The third one pinned me to the ground with his claws digging into my neck. He spoke in a mocking voice, “You should be careful flying at night alone in the city, weird creature with wings.” I wanted to retort, but I was too breathless and terrified. He continued, “Good, keep your silence. Not that you have many options.” One of the other griffins asked, “What do we do? Is it him?” The one holding me down examined me again, easing his grip slightly. He confirmed, “Yes, it’s him.” The other griffin exclaimed, “Great! I wonder how much the Faded Feather will pay us if we bring him to him.”

I seized the opportunity while they were distracted and reached for my side, where I had hidden a blade, more like a dagger, really. I pulled it out and slashed at the back of his leg, hoping to sever his tendons. He let out a muffled scream and released me. He snarled, "Oh, you little bastard. Stop right there.” I ignored him and gasped for air. I scanned the room for an exit and spotted a door. It was unlocked, and I ran for it. The other two griffins lunged at me with such force that they would have crushed me if they had caught me. I made it to another room, which was brighter than the previous one. The building was empty, but there was an open window. It was small, but big enough for me to squeeze through. It would slow them down at least. I felt a surge of adrenaline and ran towards it. I barely managed to flap my wings and escape outside. I flew into the first street I saw and turned left and right at random corners to lose them. I had no idea where I was, and I knew that flying higher would make me more visible. Less than a minute later, I saw the same three griffins in the sky, searching for me. I hid in a dark corner, so dark that I couldn’t see myself. They didn’t spot me, but one of them was always nearby, ready to pounce if I moved. I was trapped. I prayed that someone would come to help me or that they would give up. Even the bleeding one seemed determined to catch me. His leg was soaked with blood, which glinted in the moonlight. I stayed still for what felt like an eternity, feeling the cold of the night seep into my bones. I had to move, but I didn’t dare.

I heard some other voices. The voices of the sentinels and the guards “Get down. You’re wounded,” one of them said to a griffin I had wounded earlier. He ignored the warning and fled with his companions. Another griffin, who had been hiding in a cloud high above, swooped down and shouted, “Slashers, halt!” They did not heed him, so he slammed into one of them with a loud thud. They crashed behind some buildings, out of my sight, but I could hear the commotion. The remaining two slashers, even the injured one, turned back and tried to rescue their fallen friend from the guards. That was my chance to escape. They have bigger problems than me now.

Still, I could not fly high, for I did not know if the guards would recognize me or shoot me down on sight because of my strange appearance. I sneaked through the streets, which were deserted now. I peeked around every corner, afraid of another ambush. I managed to find my way to the palace, following the same street all the way up. It took me half an hour of walking, but I finally reached it. There was no one I knew there, nor any guards that I almost wished to surrender to, hoping for some protection. There was a reason for their absence: they were all searching for me in the air, flying so high that they were hard to spot. They scanned the streets below, trying to find me in the darkness and distance. One of them did find me and yelled, “Don’t move.” I froze. Another one heard him and asked, “Is it him?” He came closer and said, “Are you okay?” I said, “I’m okay now.” He confirmed to his colleague, “Yes, it’s him. Alert the others.” He reassured me, “Come with me, we’ll take you back.” Then he noticed the blood on my clothes, which was not mine. My own blood had dissolved into the air in a bright light shortly after I freed myself from the slashers. The cut on my neck had healed as if it had never been there. He asked me, “Are you hurt?” I said calmly, “I was, but I’ve healed.” He said, “That’s good. We’ve had some trouble tonight, but at least we got to you before they did.” I corrected him, “They did get to me.” He apologized, “I’m sorry about that. We’ll deal with them later. For now, let me introduce myself. I’m Jax.” We returned to the palace, where I cleaned myself up and met Mira again. She was worried and angry at the queen, who blamed her for letting me go. They bickered like sisters, even though one was a queen and the other an assistant. I tried to defuse the situation as best as I could. But even after everything was settled, I still could not see Fulgor and Calida. Eventually, I felt tired, which was unusual for me, but not unpleasant. I felt like a normal living being. The palace offered me a lavish room for the night, but I hardly noticed its opulence. I craved only peace and rest after the harrowing ordeal. The night did not unfold as I had hoped. I had heard of the city’s nocturnal attractions, but I had to forgo them because of the mishap. The next morning, I faced another unpleasant encounter, not with the queen, but with the captain of the guards and Mira. Mira was supposed to watch over me, but she had lost track of me in the chaos. I wondered why I hadn’t heard her call my name when she realized I was gone. Perhaps I was too focused on escaping or too panicked to notice. In any case, the captain interrogated me relentlessly. He was an old griffin, black as a raven, with a keen eye for details and a knack for asking probing questions. I had to think carefully before answering anything about what had transpired.

When he was satisfied with my account, he led me and a group of guards to a remote location near the city, at the foot of a mountain. It was a prison, a grim outpost where the lawbreakers awaited their fate. There I saw my assailants again, chained to the wall, not even granted the dignity of a cell. They were not alone; there were others like them, all silent and watched by vigilant guards. The captain asked me to identify my attackers from a safe distance. I saw their hateful eyes on me, burning with murderous rage. I was about to point them out, starting with the wounded one, but he erupted into flames and thrashed against his chains, spewing curses and names I didn’t recognize. His fire was useless against the metal, and he barely moved an inch. He sprouted another pair of wings, but the guards swiftly sliced them off. The severed wings vanished along with his hope. Unfazed by his outburst, I pointed at all three of them with a smug grin, feeling like a lucky victor in a battle.

They were dragged away to some darker place, while the others remained in their chains. I didn’t know why they were there, whether they were suspects or convicts, but one of them caught my attention. He was smaller and younger than the rest, and he shared the queen’s colors. He looked different from the others; he was sobbing and trembling, terrified of everything and everyone. He even begged me for help, but I was powerless to do anything for him. I didn’t know what he had done or what would become of him.

I glared at him with a look of disappointment, but said nothing. The chief had already interrogated me twice, asking me to identify the attackers and recount every detail of the ordeal. I repeated that there were only three of them, no more, and that I had never seen them before. He nodded and gestured for me to follow him. We left the place where they had held me captive and headed back to the city. I was ready to leave this nightmare behind.

At the gates, the queen was waiting for us, her eyes red and swollen. She tried to apologize, as if she was responsible for what had happened to me. I told her not to blame herself or her sister. I liked Mira, she was kind and friendly, even though she had snatched a pen from me the first time we met. I also saw Fulgor and Calida, who looked confused and curious. They had not been informed of the incident, but they sensed something was wrong when they saw the queen in tears and Mira in distress. I decided to take charge and lead them back to our city, promising to explain everything on the way. We took off, escorted by some guards until we were out of sight of the walls. Then they turned back and left us alone.

That was when I started asking questions of my own. I wanted to know where Fulgor and Calida had been, and why they had disobeyed the guardians’ orders. They said they had acted in good faith, but they seemed nervous. “You don’t want to know why they were so worried about me, do you?” I asked them. Fulgor’s voice was tense as he said, “I hope you didn’t offend anyone here.” I snapped back, “Of course not, but I was attacked.” Calida gasped and asked, “What do you mean by attacked? Did they force you to do something you didn’t want to do, or say something you didn’t like?” I shook my head and said, “No, they tried to kidnap me.” Fulgor exclaimed, “WHAT?! No way, nobody kidnaps anyone in this city.” I said, “I wouldn’t believe it either if I hadn’t experienced it.” Calida asked, “Wait, so what happened? Were you involved in that commotion with the guards last night?” I nodded and said, “Yes, I was with Mira when three griffins ambushed us and crashed us into a building. They called themselves the Faded Feathers and mentioned a guy named Fulg. Do you know anything about him?” Calida blurted out, “Isn’t that what your sons call you, Fulg?” He slapped her to silence her and said, “NO.”

I stopped in mid-air, feeling a surge of suspicion. I stared at Fulgor and said, “What?!” He stammered, “No, I don’t have any sons and I’ve never heard that name before, I swear.” I said, “Well, they wanted to kidnap me and bring me to him for a reward. Too bad for them, they got arrested. Also, you were nowhere to be seen all day. How convenient.” Fulgor’s face turned red with anger and he said, “No, this is just your speculation. We need to get back to the city now.” I shook my head and made up my mind: “Nope, I’m not going with you. I’m going back to the Kingdom of Aura. You’re hiding something from me and I don’t want any part of it. Goodbye.” I flew higher, heading towards the direction of my home. Calida called out, “Wait, don’t go alone. I’ll come with you.” Fulgor shouted at her, “No, stay here. Let him go.” She ignored him and followed me.

She caught up with me and gestured for me to follow her. It seemed like we had a plan to escape from him, but it involved flying into the clouds, which I doubted was a smart idea. As soon as we entered the misty realm, a flash of light pierced through the fog. It was Fulgor, trying to stop us, but we didn’t slow down. I had lost my faith in Fulgor, but I still trusted Calida. We managed to evade him and soared above the clouds, heading for the mountains as fast as we could. There, we landed on a patch of snow, cold but serene. I asked her, “What the hell is going on? What do you know about him that I need to know?” She answered, still panting and relieved to have reached a safe spot. “I knew his second name. I just wasn’t sure if it was true.” I said, “So… do we have to warn the others? I’m glad you confirmed it, and thanks for helping me get away. What now?” She said, “It’s not over yet. We have to take another route. He’ll surely send someone to intercept us. I know where to go.” I asked her innocently, like a child, the kind of question that no one would refuse: “Okay then, but can I trust you?” She said, “That’s up to you. I think you can. I want to help you get back to the city. Then we’ll figure this out and you’ll help me with it.” I agreed, “Fine, I believe you.” She said, “Follow me. There’s a portal here. It’s hidden. We can use it to get a shortcut to the city.” I exclaimed, incredulous, “What, a portal? I thought they were just legends in the books.” She said, “They’re real. Follow me, we have to hurry.” Calida seemed like a different person than the one I knew. She was confident and focused on her mission. Fulgor must have held her back from showing her true potential. We flew from one point to another on the mountain until we reached a cliff. There was a fissure with many caves. She aimed for one and entered it. Without hesitation, I followed her. Suddenly, we were facing a luminous structure. The cave was much larger than it looked from outside, and the portal was huge, spanning tens of meters in height and width. There were some crystals around it. She rearranged them into a pattern that resembled a dragon’s head. They all changed color to a bright pink, the same as Aura’s. The portal changed as well. She urged me to go through it, and I did. She followed me, and the portal vanished. We were in the same place where I had first arrived in this world. In the middle of nowhere but not too far from the city. She said, “Follow me, the gate is close by.” I said, “I know, I’ve been here before.” She asked me as we flew, “How? Did Akira bring you here?” I said, “No, the first time I came here, I found myself right here. Just like now.” She nodded and said, “Great, you must have used a portal too then. I hope we’re not too late.” I didn’t answer. I didn’t know what she meant by “too late”. But I remembered the meeting with the guardians on the seventh day. Fulgor was going to miss that one.

#chapter #dragon #dragons #elements #fantasy #literature #mystery #story #poetry #adventure #the_glitch #the rise and fall of raphael

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mayflyuniverse · 2 years

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felt like i spoke too much on my private twt so i’m retreating to my tumblr lol.

I am a little sad about the (suspected) stress-induced rash under my lips. It’s still a little small, but I’m hoping it doesn’t spread. It feels a bit like a see-saw between my mental and physical health. When I have a handle on one of them, the other one acts out... Balancing it gets tougher when there’s so much happening... Hopefully things die down soon but otherwise, all I can do is hold on, I guess.

I’m guessing the stress this time around is the lack of time to work, combined with financial situations, then the fact that I’ve been eating a LOT of fast food at my parents whenever I’m there, along with the whole shctick talking to big sis about paying the damages she made on car, not to mention the fact that I’ve found her guest all alone downstairs, bored while she was on call with her japanese pseudo-bf... My malfunctioning keyboards that i’ve had to replace by using advance instalment payments, my maxed out credit card, the upcoming website hosting/domain name/Gdrive subscription payments that will be due...... Then there’s the bit where there’s the appointment with youngest sis’ school principal about the bully in her class making inappropriate comments about me far too often to her (i know, wild), then finally there’s the bit where I just have yet to catch up on rest ever since New Year’s...

I mean this is not counting the bits on the side about projects and jobs i’ve applied to that I’m hoping to get within the new year since my other commercial projects are still stalled and there’s no news when it’ll be ready, unfortunately.

I mean, all around stress, but I’m not in a constant state of anxiety, which is good but I guess it manifests itself elsewhere physically.

I read up and apparently it’ll go away on it’s own if you don’t aggravate it within weeks or months. So i’m hoping, latest, by the middle of the year, i’ll be rid of this stinging and burning;;;

Hopefully, within like.. by 6th of next month, mum will be healed of her fractured toe completely that she can drive again and I’ll be relieved of driving duties soon. That would mean I’ll finally get my working hours back..

I realise I’m emotionally fatigued in a lot of ways since December and I’ve just never had the chance to recover from it before the next thing that demands my attention piles on. At least one of my younger sisters are kidn enough to help forward payment for groceries so I am still keeping to eating... and she does help with some of the driving when I request her to @@;; so things could be worse, all things considered...

I just keep telling myself “sunflowers face the sun” because it’s a phrase that reminds me i can keep keeping my head above water if I just make sure to get my thinking right. I’ll cry when I need to, be upset when I need to but. I’ve got to keep my wits about me. Just until february-- just until I can get back to my usual routine.

Anyways, if I stress more than I already am, my whole body’s going to breakdown, I can feel it :,)) and I’d like to keep away from hospital visits for the time being.....

AH! though! I did sign up for online therapy that is affordable... I’m waiting for them to get back to me but.. I’m hoping this might help with the burden in the upcoming year. I’m a tad anxious since I haven’t been to counseling in a while but, I have only good feelings about it. We’ll see how it goes.

For now, I’ve finished my yoga and I’m rewarding myself by watchign a little JCC Y_Y Mr. Suh is truly all that is holding me and my sanity together lmfao. after that, it’s time to get ready and go out uuu.. let’s !!! *punches air* get. this!!! *punches air even more*. done and over with!!!

#mayflybuzz

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thearchivistsjournal · 2 years

Text

Day 205,

I’d meant to keep going with the writing last night, but when I got up to take a brief stretch break I found the nature sprite back in the house. It was just standing there, in the kitchen, not seeming to be really doing anything. It turned its head to look at me as I stepped out from the hall but otherwise took no action.

I was frightened, of course. Jumped and yelped when I saw it. Then took a half step back. Then froze up. Wanted to run. Knew that wouldn’t help. Wanted to shout and rail at it. Was afraid that might provoke it. Started breathing fast. Gripped the corner. Tried to steady myself. Reminded myself of the things Pat had said about it. Reminded myself that if it wanted to hurt me it would have done so already. Remembered the last night of my illness.

While making a conscious effort to keep my breathing slow and steady, I forced myself to look at the intruder. Make eye contact. Stand up straight. Stare it down. I was no less afraid, but if I didn’t act like it maybe I could fake it until I make it, as the saying goes (is that a saying in this place, or just in my past life?).

The problem with attempting to stare the nature sprite down though is that looking at its glowing eyes for too long is like staring at a candle or the glare of the sun off a reflective surface; stare too long and your own eyes start to hurt and you wind up with a pair of spots in your vision for a while afterward when you’re inevitably forced to blink and look away.

Steeling myself, I attempted a different approach: pointedly ignoring it and going about my business like it wasn’t there. If it wanted entertainment from me being unsettled by some prank or another, I’d refuse to give it the satisfaction until it got bored and left. And if my doing so made it impatient or think it had lured me into a false sense of security, then at least I wouldn’t be caught off guard.

Or at least, that’s what I told myself while I went about looking for hidden surprises or misplaced objects while trying to look like I was casually tidying up the house. As I did so, it continued to simply stand there and watch me, motionless save for its head pivoting on its neck. Until I began to move to check the kitchen that is. I’ll admit I’m not sure what I was expecting to happen, but it wasn’t for the sprite to simply shuffle out of my way to go stand in the hall and let me have free rein to examine the kitchen.

Yet, despite my eventual searching of every room in the house, I found nothing out of place. Nothing absent from where it should be and nothing there that should not be, save for the nature sprite who continued to do ought but stand and stare and shuffle around to get out of my way. For the life of me, I couldn’t - and still can’t - figure out what its game was. I wound up taking a seat on the couch and watching it from the corner of my eye all night until I could no longer keep my eyes open and, despite my best efforts, fell asleep there, exhaustion finally conquering anxiety.

It was gone when I woke up this morning, and another check of the house revealed all to be as it should be, best as I could tell. Come to think of it, I don’t think this is the first time it’s acted like this. The first time I saw it following the incident where it simply walked alongside me on the way home from the Village and then returned the soap comes to mind. I feel like there’s been at least one other time but I can’t quite place it off the top of my head right now.

I suppose I should get back to recounting yesterday though. This is sort of my dry season weekly, self-appointed day off from official archivist work so there’s not much else to do right now. Except laundry. And going through the transcriptions everyone made from the cathedral visit. But I’m using wanting to do those activities with company as an excuse to procrastinate on them, so writing it is.

I’d left off with having just finished talking to Pat about plans for finding the healing spring and Iole, he gave me a warning about Theo, said some cryptic stuff, and then we got back up and continued our walk down the beach. He’s not one for letting silence hang, that old man, and it didn’t take long for him to start waxing nostalgic and reminiscing about old times. Which, for him, is a pretty broad range of topics. Old friends. Powerful storms. Festivals (It seems that while the equinoxes are the only regularly scheduled ones, every now and then someone takes it upon themselves to organize some sort of large celebration or another, sometimes just for the sake of it). First meetings with prior outsiders. As I’d gathered, it’d become sort of his job over the years to greet new arrivals and introduce them to the Village. Part of the reason he’d taken to making a habit of these beach walks (not that he didn’t enjoy them for his own sake). It often wasn’t him that initially found them, but someone always wound up bringing them to him in short order. Always dazed and wearing the same white garment I was, no matter what prior life they might have remembered.

Or at least, it’s assumed we all wash up like that. There have been a few rare cases where someone washed up on some further part of the island and took hours or even days to find other people. It was before even his time, but he’d heard of one outsider who actually washed up on a different island altogether and took years before he rowed up to the Village on a boat of his own making.

We shared a laugh at how that must have thrown the villagers of the time through a loop before Pat grew somber and added that the story always made him wonder how many outsiders arrived in this world on some smaller, remote island and never found the Village. How many had washed up, lived their lives, and disappeared again thinking they were alone in the world with no one knowing they existed?

I didn’t know what to say to that, but I couldn’t help but wonder if that was the case with Maiko’s mother. Then again, that wouldn’t explain who her father was.

We were saved from pondering such mysteries for too long by the realization that we’d reached what I’d come to think of as “my” stretch of beach, whereupon Pat suggested we take another rest before turning around and heading back to the Village. Taking the same seats we’d taken just over a hundred days ago, the two of us sat and watched the sea until I began to grow restless with the suspicion that he was waiting for me to say something.

After some stuttering and false starts, through which Pat was mercifully patient, I eventually got out that I was worried that being my apprentice, even being around me, might be bad for Cass. I told Pat about my rough awakening from the Catacombs nightmare the other morning. And about the time I had something like a panic attack in front of the class full of kids when asked about where stories come from and how to tell fiction from nonfiction. And the myriad other anxieties of mine that I tried to keep hidden but I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d picked up on. None of it is her fault or directed at her or even has anything to do with her directly, but that just doesn’t seem like an emotionally or mentally healthy environment for a child to be around. And as much as she’s eager to prove how mature she is and insists that she wants to be treated like an adult she’s not one.

And all that’s not even getting into concerns about what Theo’s said about outsiders pulling those around them down with them to whatever premature fate they find.

At the same time though, Cass is good at archivist work and even seems to enjoy it. She certainly enjoys the “expeditions” to the floating island and cathedral ruins and such. And I don’t want to take that away from her if it’s what she wants to do. Nor do I want to hurt her by doing or saying something that comes across as driving her away or implying that she’s not good enough or can’t handle things because she’s “just a kid.”

I confessed to him that, as much as I suspect she’d bristle at the phrasing, I’ve come to think of her like a younger sibling of my own and I want what’s best for her. But I don’t know what that is. And who am I to even say what’s best for her? Or for anyone for that matter?

Pat asked me if I wanted advice or just a sympathetic ear to bend while I express my worries.

Before I could stop myself I said that advice would be appreciated, and then reflexively added on that I didn’t want to impose or come across as only visiting him when I need something but too late for that now.

He told me not to worry about imposing then got on with his advice. The gist of it was that I should sit down with Cass and talk with her about it. Be honest, lay out my concerns the same way I’d told him, but be clear that I still respect her and the work that she’s done. Say that I want her opinion before I decide what to do, so that even if I ultimately decide to do something she doesn’t want she’ll at least feel considered and heard. And who knows, her point of view might give me valuable insight I hadn’t thought of.

But if I truly think that being around me is hurting her, then I need to make it clear to her how and why I think that, and if I still believe it after talking to her, best for me to find a way to stop hurting her and act on it, one way or the other. And help her find something to hold onto so the fix doesn’t hurt her as much as the problem.

I thanked him.

He wished me luck. Said it wasn’t an easy decision to make. And then said that’s enough stewing in our thoughts when we’ve got a long walk back to the Village.

As we began walking, Pat commented that there’s a lovely little cove around the bend in the shoreline if I hadn’t explored it already. A pretty sight and a shame he rarely has the energy to extend his rambles that extra little bit.

Was he implying he knew about Maiko and her comings and goings from there with her boat, or was I reading too much into it? I wasn’t about to ask either way.

*******

Took a break from writing to eat lunch and stop procrastinating on laundry. Sooner or later I’d need to get used to going out on my own again. Can’t let fear of another unlikely incident rule my life forever.

That laundry trip down to the stream was uneventful until I was on my way back to the house. Struggling with the basket of now water-heavy laundry I tripped and would have fallen and spilled the basket had not a pair of hands caught me, steadied me, and pulled me back upright. By the time I realized what had happened and looked about there was no one there. The nature sprite’s doing undoubtedly, but I just don't have it in me right now to contemplate the new pattern of behavior it seems to be shifting toward. Although I suppose I may as well note the observation that all of my interactions with it since the incident have been neutral at worst and seemingly benevolent at best with none of its usual mischief.

Back to the very long day that was yesterday.

On the way back to the Village Pat asked me to tell him about some of the good times I’d had here. I was in a rough spot right now, but surely my life had its bright moments as well. Jokingly he said I could call it repayment for the advice I seemed so worried about “imposing” on him for.

That seemed fair enough to me. But where to start? It took me long enough to decide that I suspect anyone else (except maybe Maiko) would have grown impatient with me, but I settled on that trip to the lake of stars with Lin, back when I’d only been around for a month or so, starting with her waltzing down the stairs to the archive one morning and declaring “I’m taking you shopping and then we’re going camping!”

I’d moved on from that to recounting my first proper exploration of the cathedral ruins with Cass when we stopped to rest again. On a roll, I simply kept talking, describing the feeling as the two of us sat in the catacombs exchanging riddles in the dark over treasure as our own private callback to the first story I’d told as Archivist two nights prior.

Recalling dinner with Lin and Vernon - burnt food outweighed by lovely conversation - took us from the beach to the Village streets.

More solitary pleasures, such as watching the giants in the mists and my dances with the rain brought us along the cobblestones and up the hill.

I was just finishing my attempt to capture the awe of watching the shadow of Cloud Tower cross the border of noon when we reached Pat’s door.

I knew I should be getting back to the library, and then catching up with Cass and James, but there was one more “bright moment” I wanted to relay to Pat before I left him, even though he was there for it. It just felt right to say. Important even.

Once I’d finished telling him the wonder I’d felt the first time I saw the archive and its caged stars, he smiled, nodded his head and said the moment had been special for him too. That it was when he became sure that I’d find peace here one day.

That would have been a wonderful note to end the day on as I left him with a promise to come back and visit sometime next week.

But I still had Cass and James to talk to.

To my shame, I wasn’t able to bring up my concerns with them. The closest I got was taking Jame’s side when he suggested we go back to last dry season’s schedule of Cass being in the Village for archivist work two days a week. Cass wasn’t thrilled with this arrangement, but we compromised with a promise of three days a week next dry season and to let her go with me on any archival-related ventures out of the Village, even long ones like the floating island trip. I was quietly relieved that James agreed to that last part before we brought up the boat trip we were starting to make plans for.

I tried not to cringe when Cass mentioned that we’d be looking for Iole in addition to the spring. And I don’t blame her for it; I would have done the same if not for the talk with Pat a few hours ago. All the same, I was quick to add, making sure that the present siblings heard as well, that we’d like to keep things quieter than the floating island plans were. Said that I hadn’t been comfortable with all the attention and there’d been a lot of wasted food donations. Both technically true.

I’ll need to relay that warning about Theo to everyone the next time I can get them in private.

And that all brings us full circle to arriving back to an empty house last night, followed by writing, followed by another nature sprite encounter, followed by today.

Time to get some dinner and head to bed. I don’t think I’ll be making another entry tonight unless something truly unexpected happens.

It’s funny how so many days can pass, one similar to the next, and then one comes along with so much you can hardly process it all.

<==Previous Next==>

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missluckycharms · 3 years

Text

Sweet as Cherry Wine.

Summary: Y/N goes into Labour, Harry finally meets his second little love, but not everything is as happy as he thought it would be.

Warnings: mentions of blood loss, childbirth, harsh language, angst up to level 1000.

A/N: here we are !!! The highly anticipated birth one shot that will reveal all and we finally get a name for the new love 🥺 if you liked this, please reblog and give it a like and come talk to me about it! This gives me the motivation to keep writing. MWAH <33

—

Harry has been down this road before, the pregnancy cravings, the bloating, the mood swings, the whole nine yards. Y/N on the other hand was completely new to it, she was confused a lot of the time about how her body was changing due to the pregnancy, but Harry was always there to reassure her it was normal.

Their first scan was one of nerves for Y/N, she’s never had one done and she was terrified incase something was wrong and she didn’t know, she was awake all night before the appointment stressing alongside Harry who sat with her through it all, calming her nerves and not sleeping even when she dozed off for a few minutes in between stress cries.

He knew this was a first time mothers anxiety she was feeling, of course she was feeling it! He was there when Honey was soon to arrive, he was like a ball of stress, barely sleeping when Myla was nine months pregnant incase she needed him or he was too deep in a sleep when the baby eventually decided to arrive and Myla couldn’t wake him up fast enough.

Sure, he felt the nerves this time around again, he was going to have a little baby again. His worries did eat into him when all he kept dreaming about was Y/N in the same position was Myla was a few days before she left, but he knew this time around it was okay, he kept telling himself it was going to be, because he needed it to be, he needed Y/N to be around afterwards and he needed her to be okay.

Y/N was okay, of course she was, even when she went into labour. It was chaos when she felt her first contraction at four in the morning, she immediately sat up and slapped Harry awake in pain, he jumped into action straight away, getting her comfortable and timing her contractions while comforting her through them, telling her it was all okay and that their bubba would be with them soon.

“Fuck you! This is your fault!” She screams as Harry sits on his knees before her, phone in hand as he rubs her thigh with the other, her hands behind her on the bed as she breathes deeply through another contraction.

“I know my love, big meanie aren’t I? I’m sorry, they’ll be here soon though yeah? Cant wait to meet us, so eager to get out.” He soothes her, belly filled with excitement yet nerves, seeing her in pain has him feeling so useless.

“H, I don’t know if I can do this, it’s so painful!” She cries out, hunched over now as Harry moves to sitting beside her, hand massaging her back to ease the pain as she cries.

“Don’t say that baby, you’ll do great! You’re so strong, you’re gonna be the best Mama, I know it hurts, I know.” He coos, leaning over to kiss her forehead as they both wait at home for both Anne to arrive to mind Honey and for her contractions to be at least 5-6 minutes apart.

“Just want them out, need them out.” She pants out, finally getting a few minutes rest as she prepares herself for the next one.

“I know, they’ll be here soon, before you know it they’ll be crying down the hospital while they lay in your arms.” He smiles, her own smile matching as she rests on his shoulder, completely out of breath as he holds her.

“Bet you wish I was a seahorse again, huh?” He jokes, trying to lighten the mood but all he gets was a groan and a scream in return when another contraction hits her after seven minutes.

“Fuck you and your jokes! Can’t you see I’m in pain?!” She yells, shooing him away again as he sits on his knees, starting the stop watch again while also holding a cold flannel to her forehead to help cool her down.

“I’ll save them all for later, sorry darling.” He smiles, her own smile appearing a little when the pain starts to subside again, her body aching and her breathing heavy as she sits back, rubbing her bump.

“I’m sorry.” She apologies, his head shaking as he dabs the flannel over her forehead and face.

“No need to be sorry, you’re doing amazing Mama.”

That was around seven hours ago, she was currently only six centimetres dilated and she’s in incredible pain as they sit in their hospital room, Harry helping her in any way she can.

“This is so uncomfortable, feels like I’m about to squeeze a bloody watermelon out of me!” She yells, another contraction hitting her as she sits up, sweat pouring down her face as Harry dabs a flannel over her yet again to both cool her down and wash away the sweat.

“You’re doing great Mama, just four more centimetres to go before you can push, okay? Doin’ amazing.” He reassures her, her hand holding his as she squeezes it in pain, apologising afterwards to which he ignored with a kiss to her lips.

“Is it suppose to take this long? How long did Honey take?” She asks, getting concerned over how long she’s been in labour for now.

“Honey took around twelve hours to arrive, this is completely normal.” He laughs, her eyes widening at the mention of how many hours.

“What is in your sperm?! Fuckin’ hell! So you’re saying I could be here for longer?!” She yells, looking at him while he tries to bite back a laugh.

“Yes m’love, don’t worry I’ll be here, not going anywhere.” He says, her eyes shutting as she lays down, trying to ease her discomfort.

“You better not! You put them in me, you’re being here when they get out!” She hisses, a slight sharp pain in her stomach appearing but then leaving again as she breathes heavily through it.

“Hey, it takes two to tango!” He defends himself with a joke, but when all he got was a glare and a middle finger he knows he fucked up.

“Yep, I know, I will keep them for later now, last one.”

—

“That’s it Mama! You’re doing great!” The nurse yells, smiling up at Y/N as she pushes, her legs raised up by the stirrups on either side of the bed as Harry sits beside her, kissing her hand and holding it.

“Hear that? Doin’ great darling, best Mama ever.” He coos at her, sweat rolling down her body as she screams pain, pushing again for a few seconds before launching back in both exhaustion and frustration.

“Get them out! Why aren’t they getting out! Please!” She cries loudly, the discomfort in her body getting too much alongside pain as the nurses tell her to take a break for a minute or two before pushing again.

“They’ll be here soon baby, just need to push a little more when you’re ready, yeah?” Harry soothes her, wiping over her face again as she cries shutting her eyes.

“I can’t do it! I cant!” She yells, the nurses soothing her with encouragement as Harry stands up, sitting in behind her on the bed to allow her rest into his arms, head on his shoulder as he kisses her forehead.

“Come on Mama, I’m here. Give us another push, yeah? Know you can do it.” The nurses nods at Harry as a thank you when Y/N finally pushes again, her screams loud as Harry allows her to squeeze both of his hands, his fingers turning numb as she has a death grip on them.

“Okay! Last few pushes after this one, I can see their head!” The nurse says happily, Y/N smiling in relief as Harry kisses her, pure excitement running through his body at the thought of meeting their new love in a few minutes.

“Hear that baby? They’ll be here soon, can’t wait to meet them, yeah?” He asks her, her head nodding as she tries to keep herself in the moment, the pain causing her mind to swim elsewhere and become dizzy as she tries to focus on pushing yet again.

“Last one! Let’s go Mama! Big push, put your all into it!” The nurse shouts finally, Y/N putting her all into the last push, tears streaming down her face and yells that she’s pretty sure are so loud people three floors down can probably hear her.

A loud cry and a room filled with nurses rushing to the newborn is heard after a few seconds, Harry being asked to cut the cord so now it’s just Y/N laying back in bed, eyes shut and a lazy smile on her face when she hears that sharp cry.

“It’s a girl! Congratulations Mum and Dad!” The nurse shouts, Harry crying as he looks at his baby being checked over before she’s placed on Y/N’s chest.

“She’s here m’darling, all well and perfect.” He sobs, watching as Y/N’s arms barely move to hold her against her chest, eyes still closed.

“Mama, come on. It’s okay, she’s here!” Harry says a little louder, tapping Y/N’s cheek to get her to open her eyes to see their new baby girl.

“Nurse! She’s not waking up!” He immediately screams out, Y/N’s heart rate monitoring beeping as it drops, their new baby is immediately taken off her chest, handed over to be bundled up and cleaned while Harry is being told to stand back.

“What’s happening?! What’s going on?! Someone, tell me what the fuck is happening?!” He cries out, a nurse escorting him out of the room as they mumble out medical terms he can’t understand, Y/N’s bed being taken off the brakes and many nurses around her.

“Sir, we need you to calm down-“

“No! I’m not calming down, until I know she’s okay!” He screams out, cutting off the nurse as she stands with him in the hallway, the door to Y/N’s room immediately flying open and her bed being rushed out.

“Y/N! It’s okay baby! I’ll be here! Please! Don’t leave me, yeah?!” He shouts as he runs beside her bed, nurses and doctors fighting him off until he lets go, tears streaming down his face as he watches them take her towards surgery.

“Mr Styles, it’s okay.” The nurse says softly, holding his shoulder as he immediately breaks down, sliding down the wall and sitting on the floor with his head in his hands, the flashbacks to Myla playing around in his mind as he cries.

“No! Please! Tell me she’s okay!” He yells, watching a passed out Myla being rushed down the halls, nurses and doctors shouting at one another.

“Mr Styles, we need you to calm down, please!” A nurse shouts at him, trying to get Harry to sit down as he tries to run after Myla.

“We can’t let you go in there!” She yells at him again, his face filled with anger and sadness as he just wants to see his wife, the love of his life, the mother of his first baby girl.

“You don’t understand, I need her to be okay!” He pleads with the nurse, eyes red raw as she doesn’t say a word, only recommending him to get a cup of tea from the canteen and sit down to calm down.

“I don’t want fucking tea! My wife is after been rushed away from me, and none of you are telling me what the fuck is happening!” He yells at the top of his lungs, the nurse not even flinching as she tries to listen to him.

“Mr Styles, your wife needs an emergency c section, we cannot allow you in due to her needing some more attention, all you can do now, is wait.” She finally tells him, his face immediately paling as he hears her words.

“She’ll be okay? Right?”

Deep down, Harry knew she wouldn’t be.

“Mr Styles, can I get you anything to eat or drink?” The nurse asks him, he finally agreed to sit down in the hall on a chair, his head shaking at her request as she leaves him with a nod, knowing he needed to be alone.

He takes a deep breath, running his hands through his hair as he looks around, nurses walking past him and people being wheeled into separate rooms to have their babies, the sounds of mothers pushing their loves into the world and the sound of babies crying left right and centre.

The room they were all in, was silent, his own little love being looked after while Y/N is down the hall in surgery, he’s alone.

“Mr Styles, do you want to hold her?” Another nurse asks him after a few minutes, his baby bundled up in her arms as she comes out to see him, a smile on her face as he looks up at her.

“Yeah, thank you.” He forces a smile, holding out his arms for his new baby to be passed into, his smile finally returning for real as he looks down at the sleeping newborn.

The nurse leaves him alone, telling him she’ll be back in an hour to check up on them as he just nods, mumbling a thanks as she leaves.

“Hello little one, I’m glad you’re okay.” He mumbles, tears sliding down his face as he reaches out his pinkie, the baby immediately grabbing onto it with her tiny hand as he smiles, laughing out a sob.

“Y’Mama is gonna be fine, she’ll be back soon. She just needs some help, yeah? Be back with us soon.” He reassures her, more for himself as he cries harder, holding her against him as she sleeps peacefully in her Papa’s arms.

“Hi m’love, finally here huh?” He smiles, holding Honey as she looks up at him, hazel eyes like her Mama as she gazes at her Papa.

“Y’Mama will be out soon, yeah? She’s dying for a cuddle.” He reassures her, his tears falling onto her small hand as he kisses it.

“Waited so long for you, and you’re finally here.” He smiles, Honey opening her mouth in a yawn as he taps her cheek softly.

“Tired? I bet you are, made quite the entrance I must say.” He laughs, cracking a joke for what seems like the first time in hours.

“Had your Mama screaming at me, but it’s okay, it was my fault after all, was dying to get you into her.” He laughs again, looking at the clueless newborn who only reaches her hand up to grasp onto his thumb.

“We’ll be okay, I know we will.”

Looking down at his new love, the memories of holding Honey for the first time came back like a freight train. He was in a waiting room similar to now, holding his baby while his love was in surgery.

It was like horrible deja vu sat here, his brain running a million miles per second as he watches his newborn sleep, his tears falling silently as he keeps holding her tiny hand, trying to ground himself and keep himself sane.

He sees nurses coming and going, rushing towards the surgery hallway as he watches on, not stopping them to ask any questions — he just allows them to work, hoping they’d have some news for him soon.

It was at least three hours before he was actually greeted by another nurse that was in surgery with Y/N. His bubba was still in his arms, sleeping soundly as he stood up to speak to the nurse that was dressed in surgery protective gear from head to toe.

“Mr Styles?” She asks, he nods.

“Y/N lost a lot of blood, she had a haemorrhage in afterbirth. Her the uterus did not contract enough after delivery which lead to her needing to be taken in by us quickly. We did our best-“

“Please, don’t tell me she’s- please tell me she’s okay! Please!” He begs, the nurse smiling which brings him a little ray of hope.

“… we did our best, and it was successful, she’s okay. She just needs some rest and we’ll need to monitor her for the next twenty four hours, you’re free to stay if you please.” She finally says, a sigh of relief admitting from his chest as he clutches his baby close to him sobbing.

“Thank you! Thank you so much, honestly.” He rushes out, the nurse being engulfed into a hug as she laughs hugging him back while also cooing at the new baby in his arms.

It’s a few more minutes until Y/N is brought back out into the room, Harry immediately racing to her bedside as she begins to wake up a little, smiling lazily when she sees Harry the second she opens her eyes.

“Now I wish you were a seahorse.” Is all she says, his laugh coming out as a cry of relief as she jokes with him, his heart soaring as she lazily laughs.

“I wish I could take all your pain away.” He cries out, trying to keep a smile as he holds their baby in his arms still.

“I’m okay H, just a little sore. Where is she?” She asks, looking around until her eyes land upon her in Harry’s arms.

“She’s here, healthy and perfect.” He explains, holding her up and resting her on the bed with his hands under her as he allows Y/N to run her fingers over her face and head — her body too weak to hold her right now.

“She has your nose.” She comments, running her finger down the slope of the newborns nose as Harry laughs, nodding watching her interact with the baby for the first time.

“She has your lips.” He laughs, watching as Y/N smiles with hooded eyes, a slight sniffle being heard.

“We did that.” She laughs, watching as the baby finally flutters her eyes open at the touch of her Mama.

“Hello little one.” She coos out, watching as the baby rolls her eyes around to view the room, the bright lights causing her to squint before opening them fully.

“Hi, I’m your Papa, you know that already, I’m the one who cried all over you.” He whispers, laughing as he kisses her cheek while Y/N breathes out a hearty laugh.

“A sop for me even when I’m not around, huh?” She asks, looking at Harry who’s already looking at her with love filled eyes.

“Always a sop for you.” He replies, leaning over to kiss her hand that’s softly brushing through the small amount of curls on the babies head.

“Hello Mum and Dad, do we have a name for your little one?” The nurse asks softly, walking into the room to the little family as the pair smile at her.

Harry nods at Y/N before she speaks up with a bright smile.

“Cerise Anne Styles.”

The nurse smiles, writing down the name before she’s leaving with the mention of being back in awhile to check in on both Y/N and Cherry.

“Our little Cherry, huh?” Harry laughs, loving the name as Y/N smiles looking at him fondly.

“Knew the second we had that wine, I wanted to name our baby that.” She admits, his eyes flicking back up to hers as he feels his eyes welling up again.

“You wanted a baby with me? That early?” He asks, not believing her as she nods, reaching out to grasp his cheek in her hand softly.

“Yeah, knew from the second I saw you with Honey that you were a great Papa, I just hoped you’d chose me for your next, and you did.” She laughs, a tear falling down his face which she catches.

“Thank you, for giving me a second chance to be a proper Papa.” He cries, holding Cherry close in his arms as he sits in beside Y/N in her bed.

“No, thank you, for allowing me into your life and your family. I can’t thank you enough, H.” She cries now, leaning her head on his shoulder as they both look down at Cherry who’s looking up at them with wide green eyes.

“She’s got your eyes too.” Y/N laughs out, Harry nodding with a sniffle as he smiles.

“Bet she has your heart though.” He whispers, Y/N smiling as she begins to fall asleep again.

As Harry sat there with Cherry in his arms and Y/N on his shoulder, he knew, that they were going to be okay, and that Myla is looking down at them all with a wide smile and teary eyes over how far Harry has come.

They’re all going to be alright.

#dad!harry #harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles imagine #harry styles fandom #fan fic author #harry styles one shot #dadrry #dad harry #harry styles angst #harry styles writing #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

Text

I’m still working as best I can towards getting the surgery I’m always talking about in these posts, because when I tell you how much that will fundamentally change every aspect of my life right now, I’m not kidding. As usual, I’m way behind on rent, haven’t been able to afford new meds in a couple weeks, and am low on food and energy, with the first of the month being tomorrow and like.....I’m trying so hard to get the surgery at least before the end of the year, because as soon as I do, not only does it address all my health issues, I’ll be able to ditch the super pricey insurance I have to maintain just to keep the surgery I’ve otherwise paid for even a possibility?

(Again, the surgery is already paid for, all 21K of it.....the reason I keep having to put it off is not having any extra to pay for rent and food while I’m stuck in bed recovering for a month after it, since I’m perpetually behind and stuck in the hole as is).

My breakdown of actual expenses, priority wise is:

- $812 per month insurance, without maintaining these specific benefits, I’ll owe additional money before they’ll even do the surgery, and there’s no way I can afford the out of pocket surgery price tag

- $1400 rent (there’s two of us living here, and we’re essentially living at one of those extended stay motels that give deals to people who are otherwise homeless, which is us. Yes, there are cheaper places we could live, even in LA a studio apartment can be found for like half this, but both of our credit scores were trashed in maxing out loans and credit cards even just to get us this far and we have no ability to rebuild our credit score while scrambling to keep up with day to day expenses as is, and we have no one who could co-sign on a cheaper apartment for us)

- $230 medication (I have an annoyingly high metabolism which means only specific pain medication works for me in the first place, as well as ADHD, C-PTSD, clinical depression, anxiety, something that is not OCD but is OCD related and hard to explain to people not familiar with it, and a few other things in the mix. I take four medications monthly, or am supposed to, and this total includes the cost of my refill apppointments, because many of my meds are controlled substances they won’t refill without monthly check-ups. Currently have been off my meds for over two and a half weeks. Its been grand)

- $80 phone/internet (necessary for most of my freelance work as well as refill and doctor appointments, etc. has been disconnected for over a week so there’s an additional $20 reconnect fee)

And anything I have left over after that goes to food. Literally the ONLY thing I need to finally be able to KEEP a surgery date is like....being able to afford rent, meds and food for the month after the surgery as my jaw will be completely wired shut, and I’ve been told to expect that I will not be able to get out of bed and move around for at least two weeks minimum.

But the SECOND after I’ve recovered from surgery, I can change so much of this? I can drop my pricey insurance, with the money I save from that I can fairly swiftly up my credit again as I’m less than 5K in debt overall, my biggest credit card is only $1K limit, I just can’t even afford to make tiny payment installments when I’m constantly behind even just on rent, as soon as I up my credit a bit and without the pain/medical issues limiting my ability to travel and use public transportation, I can find us a cheaper place to live, and like......between that, the gains I can make on sleep, nutrition and rest I can up my ability to find freelance jobs proactively, get more done, turn my attention back to various original projects that can potentially bring in money but that I haven’t been able to devote any attention to while needing to keep my focus such as it is limited to just producing fan content when and where I can since its mostly just mutuals and followers keeping me afloat as is and fan content caters to established fanbases whereas I simply don’t have the time, energy or focus to spare on building a fanbase with original content even though that’s potentially what can net me more money in the longrun, I’m just....stuck on short-run mode, lol. And have been for several years, so we’re talking law of diminishing returns here, as opposed to the expansion packet that original content can potentially reap, so add the frustration of that to ye olde mental/emotional turmoil.

ANYWAY.

Current sources of income other than donation posts are a part time job at a nearby fast food joint for minimum wage (limited hours though because I don’t set the hours and also physical disability makes this pushing it even as is), freelance work ghostwriting (mostly for self-published erotica and romance, though open to anything, please feel free to DM me if you have any potential work here, freelance editing (again mostly for self-published authors as that’s where I have the most contacts but open to anything), cover design (again mostly with self-pub authors but open to other stuff).

Other options I’m looking into to expand my potential income or revenue streams are making a youtube channel with more video essays on a range of topics, TikTok videos of various skits and scenes I’ve written for fandoms I’ve in, developing a Patreon with options for things like input on what output I create in those first two arenas, as well as things like capitalizing on my work history in the publishing and self-publishing industries as well as in Hollywood to step by step show the process of taking an original novel from single logline to fully self-published novel or querying agents in the traditional publishing world as well as mapping out similar journeys/processes in self-producing new media content as an actor or writer hoping to eventually create for film or television, etc.

Like, there’s a lot more I can do or offer there, its just first and foremost I’m hampered by time, energy and productivity constraints brought about by my lack of meds, food, and constantly needing to catch up on rent and insurance before I can even think about actually creating along any of those latter lines because I have to weigh the potential for greater income from longer term projects versus guaranteed income from short term projects of less broad potential but more immediate gains.

Anyway, I just went into detail here in ways I haven’t before hoping to shed a different light on the otherwise sameness of me constantly asking for help for the same thing, but like, please know there’s so much I can do to change my situation and I WANT to do, but there’s simply no way for me TO do that without meeting a certain threshold first, and like....that’s what I’m struggling to reach, month after month. After that? Could be a whole different ball game.

https://ko-fi.com/kalenp

https://paypal.me/bigskydreaming?locale.x=en_US

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nationalharryleague · 4 years

Text

Two for the Show

Summary: Jeff plans for Harry’s new opening act to be more than that.

Genre: Famous Fake Dating!

Word Count: 17.1k!

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A/N: Hey babes!! This is something I’ve been working on since December now and I’m so fucking proud of it and how it turned out!!! It’s the longest thing I’ve ever written and I’m so so so excited to hear what everyone has to say!! Giant thank you’s go out to the incredible soph (@theharriediaries) and Lu (@meetmymouth) bc this never would have come to fruition without them and their help!! Please let me know what you think!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist!! Happy reading y’all :)

***

Keeping appearances in the public eye is a delicate balance.

If Y/N was being honest with herself, everything Full Stop Management had ever suggested to her had worked, and very well. When they suggested her music took a more pop direction, they set her up with a team of fantastic producers and her music sales and popularity skyrocketed. And when they set up an appointment with a celebrity stylist to figure out her signature style, it worked; they turned her into the 1970’s inspired goddess she had always dreamed of being. Even the hours of media training that she had been put through worked, helping her learn how to bob and weave even the most intrusive of interview questions.

But this time, she thought they might be going too far.

“Jeff,” she began with a sigh and a doubtful shake of her head, “I don’t know about this one.”

“It’s just a few months before and during the tour,” explained the man sitting across from her at the long conference table. “You’ll be seen in public a few times to drum up publicity for the tour and your album, maybe do an interview or two together, and some light PDA.”

His expression was honest and earnest. In the time he had represented her, he had never done anything to her that didn’t help her succeed. It was not hard for her to believe that he just wanted what was best for her and her career.

But something kept holding her back.

“I just got my heart broken in the most public way,” she said softly, absentmindedly fiddling with the base of her ring finger where an engagement ring once sat. “Isn’t it a little too soon to be seen jumping back into a whirlwind romance?”

“I don’t think so. If anything, it will make James look even worse than he already does after what he did to you.” She had to admit the idea of a little revenge did perk her ears up a bit. “And it doesn’t hurt that Harry is so universally loved and known for being such a good guy.”

That was another reason she was skeptical of this entire plot. This was Harry Styles they were talking about; Harry fucking Styles. She had only met him once or twice while working out details for her to be the opening act for his upcoming tour, but she had been a big fan of his and idolized him since she was a teen. Just meeting him threw her inner 16 year old self for a loop, let alone trying to pretend she was in love with him.

In all honesty, it probably wouldn’t be too hard on her end once she got over being starstruck; she wasn’t so sure she still wasn’t kind of in love with him, or at least the version the public saw.

“Listen,” Jeff began again, his voice taking on a bluntness, “no one cares about the opening act. No one bought tickets to see you; they’re there to see Harry.” His words stung but she knew it was the truth. “But if they think you are a part of Harry’s life, they care about you too. And they will keep on caring about you after they leave the show.” Her apprehensiveness must have been clear on her face when he put on a gentle smile. “He’s a really nice person. I promise.”

“I know,” she breathed, a small pout finding its way to her lips. “Fine,” she conceded after a moment, throwing her hands up in the air dramatically to signal surrender. “I’m in.”

A triumphant grin spread across his face. “Thank you. I’ll go call Harry and tell him you’re down.” She watched as he got up from his chair and came towards her, pressing a brief and friendly kiss to the top of her head. “You won’t regret this, Y/N.”

“I better not, Azoff,” she chuckled while shaking her head slightly.

Soon she was alone in the conference room, basking in the light from the floor to ceiling windows that sat before her.

“What did I just get myself into?” she mumbled quietly to herself.

***

The answer to that question came two weeks later when she was sitting across a table from the Harry Styles at a small outdoor brunch spot in LA. Their meeting place was strategic, a small restaurant, not too flashy so it didn’t look like they were seeking attention, but outdoors where anyone could see. It was only a matter of time before he was recognized, and the sighting was almost guaranteed to be trending on Twitter only minutes later.

She couldn’t say that she wasn’t nervous. The inside of her mouth had been chewed raw and the bags under her eyes showed she had been having trouble sleeping in the nights leading up to their first appearance together. By the end of the day, she would most likely have countless articles written about her and possibly have millions of angry fangirls coming after her; even though their “relationship” wouldn’t be officially confirmed for a few weeks.

If all went to Jeff’s plan, she would become an A-lister overnight.

She stood in front of her closet for over an hour, trying on and taking off outfits before finally settling on her favorite pair of bright red corduroy flares and a crisp white textured halter top. She paired the outfit with a new pair of heeled leather boots. They were a flashy pair that were split down the middle, bright yellow on one side and white with yellow stars on the other, hoping Harry would appreciate the bold colors.

She meticulously did her makeup, sure to match her lipstick color exactly to the shade of her pants; and spent far too long in front of the mirror fussing with her hair, praying it would lay the way she wanted it to.

She knew that she was going to be photographed in some way shape or form, and with the fashion icon himself. She had to look good. He had been on the cover of Vogue for god’s sake.

When she finally arrived at the cafe, Harry sat quietly across from her. He looked casual, or as casual as Harry Styles gets. A yellow t-shirt, that was tight enough to look as if it was painted on, showed off his muscular chest and arms. His iconic tattoos illustrated his arms and she hoped he wouldn’t notice as she covertly tried to examine closely. He uncomfortably ran his palms down the legs of his high waisted denim flares that had been paired with his signature pearl necklace and ratty, but well loved, white vans.

And she couldn’t forget his rings. His signature gold ‘H’ and ‘S’ looked back at her as he gently grasped his flute filled to the brim with a mimosa, bringing it to his pink lips that were surrounded by the short stubble he had been wearing lately.

The pair sat in a slightly awkward silence, both seeming to down their mimosas quickly just because it was something to do with their hands and could occupy their lips so they didn’t have to talk.

To say she was panicking, wouldn’t be too much of an over exaggeration. She was sitting across from one of the world’s biggest stars, and as one of his biggest closeted fans. The things he could do for her career were astronomical and it was hard to ignore that, but she also had a hard time getting over the way his hair seemed to fall into perfect tousled curls and his dreamy green eyes.

She had been in love with him (or at least the idea of him) since she was 16. She couldn’t help it.

But the bottomless mimosas helped to break her anxiety, and apparently his as well, as they both began to feel a slight buzz.

“So how did Jeff end up talking you into this?” Harry eventually broke the silence, the alcohol lowering his naturally shy inhibitions just enough to kick off their conversation.

She let a playful eye roll take over her face before she began. “Oh Jeff,” she said jokingly, letting out a long sigh. “I was convinced somewhere in between ‘it’ll make your ex look bad’ and a stern ‘no one ever cares about the opening act,’” she chuckled, while sarcastically wagging her finger in the air, dramatically re-enacting his scolds.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, letting out a dramatic ‘ouch.’ “He’s not always gentle, is he?” matching her chuckle.

“He knows where to hit you where it hurts,” she laughed, while nodding in agreement. “How did he convince you?”

“Coincidently, he also took a low blow involving my ex. I believe his words were ‘You wrote an entire album about her and haven’t dated anyone since and it makes you look kind of pathetic.’” He dramatically used air quotes and did his best impression of Jeff’s American accent. She couldn’t hold back the giggles that erupted from her.

“Oh my goodness,” she let out through slightly buzzed giggles, “you definitely win.”

From that point, their conversation began to flow more easily, easing her anxiety as she learned he was generally easy to talk to. He laughed at her jokes, and she laughed at his. He really did have the calming and disarming quality that people always said he had, like could melt down any walls and convince you to be honest with him, even if you didn’t really want to be. She was shocked to find that she wanted him to genuinely be a friend to her so badly. He was just so nice and such a good listener.

Their conversation took a turn when Harry’s super power of knowing when his picture was being taken kicked in. “Give me your hand,” he said to her, diverting from the pleasant conversation they had been having about their families. “Don’t look but there’s someone across the street taking photos of us.”

His instructions brought her back to the reality that they weren’t really friends and that all of this was for show.

She brought her hand up to meet his, strategically resting on the side of the table that faced the street, giving the camera the best view. The cool metal of his hand full of rings felt good against her skin that had been baking in the hot LA sun and he passed his thumb over her knuckles with faux affection.

She couldn’t help but feel a dishonest weight pulling on her heart. She knew everything was going to plan and this was all for the best, but it also felt slightly wrong. She played with her small heart shaped earring to distract herself from the sinking feeling.

“Harry,” she began, knowing the people across the street were out of ear shot. Her voice brought his attention from her hand back up to her eyes. “Does this feel wrong to you at all?”

“How so?”

“It just feels dishonest, like we’re lying to millions of people, our–well, mostly your fans.” She couldn’t help but correct herself.

His eyes softened at her words, like he was taking in the innocence she still held onto after only being in the industry for a short time, compared to his decade in the spotlight.

“I try not to think of it as lying,” he spoke slowly after a moment of thinking. He nodded along softly to punctuate his words. “When you think about all this as lying, it starts to weigh pretty heavy on you as a person. I try to be as honest as possible in my music and daily life, but that’s not always what people want to see. They want a show that will entertain them, and it is our job to give it to them.”

“I see,” she mused.

They sat together for another hour or so, allowing their small mimosa buzz to wear off enough for them to drive the short distances to their homes. The pair eventually found their way back to a comfortable conversation, but Harry’s comment about being in the public eye still weighed on her.

Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if all of this was worth it. Y/N was a master at dodging a question and turning the charm to 10 when it was needed, but she wasn’t a liar and she definitely wasn’t an actress. She hoped she (or Jeff) hadn’t bitten off more than she could chew with all of this.

Harry eventually walked her back to her car that was parked a few blocks away, and while she was sure he was doing it for the cameras, she didn’t doubt that he would have done it even if they weren’t there. He just seemed like that kind of guy to her; caring and trustworthy.

“Thank you for a very nice date, Harry,” she said, winking and chuckling along with the extra emphasis she put on the last word.

“My pleasure,” he smiled down at her. He moved along with her as she walked to the driver's side door, opening it for her like a perfect gentleman. The two stood close, his body hovering over her’s as they stood inside the open door. Her heart rose to her throat as he leaned down to her and pressed a gentle kiss to her burning cheek.

Y/N looked back up at him with rosy cheeks and a tightlipped bashful smile. She watched as he walked backward carefully, taking her hand that had been locked with his until he was too far and let it fall back to her body.

She situated herself in her drivers seat and was ready to leave when she heard a knocking on the passenger side window that startled her. Harry had bent himself over and was motioning for her to roll the window down. When she did, he leaned himself in, an honest look in his eyes.

“Before you go,” he said gently. “A word of advice from someone who had been in the public eye for a long time,” he spoke with a tender yet serious tone, eyes locking with hers. “When you go home today, don’t go on social media. People are mean, and it’s just going to hurt.” She nodded along with his words and watched as he pinched his bottom lip. “And when you inevitably can’t resist, text me if you need to talk about it.”

***

They must have done a good job putting on their show because within an hour of her returning home to her apartment, they were all anyone was talking about. Their names were trending worldwide #1 on Twitter. Streams of Y/N’s debut album were up by 800%, and even Harry’s streams had taken a considerable jump. Y/N had gained 40,ooo new followers and views on every interview she had ever done were steadily rising.

All was going according to Jeff’s plan.

Harry’s words circled her brain for hours. “Don’t go on social media,” she heard him say over and over again as she paced her apartment, only stopping to look at the phone sitting on the kitchen counter every so often.

She had taken a shower, done her hair, tried to watch TV, cooked herself dinner, and even tried to sit down and write a song; it all got her nowhere fast. The unknown was eating at her inside.

Y/N broke when she heard the small ding signaling she had gotten a text message. She had all but sprinted to see who it was, reunited with the outside world through her touch screen. Unsurprisingly, it was from Jeff; the message sent to her and an unknown number she assumed to be Harry’s.

Good job, kiddos., was all it read but there was a photo attached to the message. Her heart stopped while she waited for the photo to load, cursing her slow wifi in the process. After a few breathless moments, the photo came through.

It was a screenshot from the website of one of the biggest entertainment magazines in the country. A picture of him kissing her cheek was the front page of the website.

Harry Styles and Y/N Y/L/N Rumored To Be Music’s New Power Couple Ahead of Tour

She was honestly speechless. This was huge.

She would like to say the sheer shock blurred her judgement, but the curiosity just got the better of her. Harry’s words repeated over and over again in her head, telling her not to, even as her finger connected with the icon of the little blue bird.

She was the most talked about topic in the entire world, her name hovering in bold letters on the trending page. She did everything she could to not click on her name, but her fingers did it all on her own.

The first few tweets were nice. Someone said they liked her style and that they looked cute together as a couple. Another said that they had always enjoyed her music and that they were happy for them.

But as she scrolled, it became harsher and just mean. People commented on her weight, said she couldn’t sing, and criticized her personality as seeming fake and forced. Her eyes were locked on the screen, unable to look away, as her heart began to break and few tears began to roll.

It took one final, and the most painful, tweet for her to consider deleting her account completely. She swiped out of the app fast, but the words were still burned into her brain.

Y/N is using Harry, just like she used James before he got rid of her and found someone better.

The words knocked the wind out of her, pouring salt on an open wound that had yet to heal.

She also had the little blue bird for that heartbreak as well. When she opened the app two months ago, the first thing she saw was pictures of her (former) fiance, James, with his tongue down some girl’s throat. At the time she had been devastated, her heart broken beyond repair.

It felt like no one else in the world could understand the way she was feeling. If she was in this position because of another person, they must get it too. The text to Harry was already sent before she had time to think it over.

I looked and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry that I didn’t listen.

His response came only seconds later.

Don’t be sorry. It’s hard not to. Are you alright?

She had to think about his question, unsure if she knew the answer. Tears were still running down her face and she felt like she was a target the entire world had decided it was open season on. Logically, she knew these people never thought she would see these awful things, but it didn’t excuse the hurt she felt when she did.

I don’t know. I just don’t understand how people can be so cruel.

She felt like she was bothering him, even though he had offered to be there for her. He wasn’t her best friend, or a close confidant; he was her fake publicity boyfriend. He had real friends he wanted to talk to or maybe even a real girlfriend underwraps somewhere. Her body was wracked with guilt as she thought it over.

People are just mean on the internet, okay? They think they can say whatever they want without repercussions. I’m so sorry that you are being targeted because of me.

Before she got a chance to think through a proper response to him, her phone dinged with another text. It was from Jeff again.

Really good job, kiddos.

Y/N was confused. They hadn’t done anything else but be seen together today. Her sick sense of curiosity got her again before she opened Twitter again and looked up Harry’s name. He had tweeted for the first time in six months only a few moments ago.

@Harry_Styles: We treat people with kindness.

***

The next time she saw him was two days later at yet another public meet up Jeff had arranged for them. Unfortunately this time, she had become just as famous as Harry seemingly overnight, the flames of her new found fame growing even larger after he had sent that tweet.

While the fame had grown, the hate had calmed since his statement, which most had taken as an official declaration of their relationship. Now, that was not to Jeff’s plans.

She had to fight her way out of her apartment complex, wearing a pair of massive dark sunglasses with circular lenses and shielding her face with her hands the best she could. But she did have to admit that the electric orange fabric of her jumpsuit probably didn’t do much to help her blend in and avoid the attention of the paparazzi that had now found out where she lived.

Harry was sitting at the table by himself facing the back of the cafe when she arrived, two cups of coffee waiting before him to be drank together placed delicately on the table. He had his head down, buried in a book, before she startled him with a hug from behind. Her cheek connected with his warm neck where she buried her head into him and she took in his dizzying cologne.

She felt him jump beneath her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing a dramatic and cheesy kiss to his cheek, feeling his light stubble prick her chapsticked lips. “My hero,” she joked, trying to bring at least a little humor to the man who had just about jumped out of his skin at her touch.

It felt like she was crossing a boundary, and she was pretty sure she was, but she just needed to thank him and a hug felt like the best way to do that while in a semi-crowded coffee shop. Also, playing up that they were madly in love didn’t hurt.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, a hand flying over his chest in surprise to feel his racing heartbeat. “You scared the shit out of me.” Once he settled for a moment, his arm moved across his chest to rest on her arm. His touch was gentle and soft, holding her there gently like he didn’t want her to release him from her grasp. She tried not to think about it too much as she slipped her arms off of him, making her way to the seat that was clearly meant for her across from him.

“I’m sorry that I scared you. A little jumpy today?” she teasingly questioned.

“Hey, watch it,” he playfully threatened. “I believe you called me your hero about thirty seconds ago.”

“I guess I did,” she quipped over the mug she was bringing to her lips. It was sweet but not too sweet, with cream but not too much, and still piping hot; just the way she liked it. “I don’t think it’s too far off,” she smiled before turning back to the coffee. “Good coffee,” she mused. “Just the way I like it.”

“Good. I texted Jeff for your order,” he informed her, the gesture being so thoughtful and sweet she could have melted into a puddle right there and then. “And I think ‘hero’ might be a bit much,” he tacked on.

“Don’t be humble, Harry.” While her voice was still light and held a jesting tone, she meant her words. “You made the entire internet leave me alone, for the most part,” she clarified as there were definitely some nasty messages still floating around Twitter, “in five words.”

“It was the least I could do,” he said while shaking his head slightly, seeming to deflect her words.

“You could have done absolutely nothing.” She reached across the table and grabbed his hand in hers like they had staged at the cafe a few days earlier; but this time, it was an honest gesture, not one for a role they were both meant to be playing. Her words were serious, punctuating each with a gentle nod of her head. “I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His eyes held the same truthfulness and honesty she hoped she was mirroring in her own. “I know all of this,” he paused and gestured between them with his free hand, “is for publicity, but I consider you a friend. It was hard to watch it all go down like that. You’re a good person and you didn’t deserve all that. I had to do something.”

There was a warmth that flooded her chest. He called me his friend, she thought to herself, fighting back a big toothy grin. She had been under the impression that all of this was just work for him, something he was doing just to drum up publicity, with no personal connections at all. But him calling her a friend meant so much to her. It meant she was not alone in all this terrifying and overwhelming attention.

“I’m glad you think of me as a friend,” she said, still holding back her smile. “You’re my friend too.” He matched her close-lipped smile that had fought its way onto her face at her words.

They sat in silence together for a few moments. Harry returned to his book and Y/N answered emails; but their hands stayed connected across the small table. This silence was very different from the silence on the day they first met. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence that sat on your tongue, begging you to break the quiet; it was peaceful and safe.

Their silence was broken when a young woman wearing a jittery smile and nervous eyes approached their table. Her voice squeaked out a mouse-like “Hi,” towards the both of them, bringing their eyes up to meet hers and instinctively breaking their hands away from each other.

“I’m so so sorry to be a bother,” she began, cheeks red and hot. “But I’m a really big fan of both of you and I would never forgive myself if I didn’t say hello.” She rambled excitedly, mostly looking at Harry, as she held her slightly shaky hands up to her chest.

“Hello,” Harry said with one of his million dollar smiles. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Emma,” she breathed.

“Well, it’s so nice to meet you Emma.” He spoke gently with her, clearly sensing her anxiety, extending his hand for her to shake. “Thank you for all of your support.”

Y/N watched closely as he spoke with her. He spoke to her like she was the only person in the room, giving her his whole undivided attention, and repeatedly thanking her as she flooded him with compliments about how his music and message of kindness meant so much to her. She was so entranced that she nearly didn’t hear her own name being said as the girl turned towards her.

“I love your music as well,” she grinned, clearly more comfortable after her short conversation with Harry. “And your jumpsuit is just incredible.” Her nervous giggle was contagious, Y/N releasing one as well at the compliment as her cheeks heated slightly. She was shocked she even knew any of her music, clearly being the less popular of the pair.

“Thank you so much, Emma. It means a lot.”

Emma took a few quick selfies with the both of them (that would be everywhere within a few hours), said goodbye and went to leave the two, but not before she paid them one last compliment. “You two are really cute together. I’m rooting for you.”

Both of their cheeks warmed as they looked back at each other. They were quiet for a moment, unsure how to respond, before Harry turned his attention back to the girl with a coy smile. “I am too,” was all he said.

***

The next three weeks passed in a blur of tour rehearsals, fittings, and public meetings with Harry. And then all of a sudden, it was the night of the first show.

Y/N had never been so nervous in her entire life. She would be the first face seen by just over 19,000 people, tasked to warm up the crowd and prepare them for Harry, which was enough pressure. And then there was the chance that they all hated her guts.

She stood behind the curtain, listening to the loud and inpatient crowd as she paced back and forth. She white-knuckeld her guitar, trying to keep her violently shaking hands from being too visible to the crew around her. Her stomach swirled and her palms were clammy, constantly having to rub them on the pants of her icey blue jumpsuit. It fit her like a glove, the wide legged pants and slight shoulder pads, creating a perfect hourglass silhouette; the only thing she was confident in at the moment was how good she looked in it.

Her heart leapt out of her chest and she almost hit the ceiling when a small voice appeared over her shoulder, whispering “You’re going to do great,” in her ear. If her heart wasn’t about to give out before, it was now. She swung around to face him, almost hitting Harry with her guitar, letting out a small breath of relief when her eyes met his own. They always seemed to calm her down a bit.

“I’m kinda freaking out, H,” she anxiously babbled, using the nickname he had told her to call him. “This is the biggest crowd I’ve ever played in front of, and they probably all hate me because they think I’m dating you, and I have to make sure I do a good job so they start listening to my music; and I just…” she trailed off for a second, uncomfortably scratching the back of her neck, “I just can’t let you down.”

His face softened at her words, seeming to take pity on her. “Y/N,” he began, resting his hands on her shoulders and looking so deep into her eyes she felt like he could probably see her soul. “We picked you to open because people love your music and the way that you perform. You just have to go out there and do what you do best: sing your heart out and put on a good show. It’s only 25 minutes. I know you can do it.”

Every word that left his lips was laced with honesty and encouragement; just enough for Y/N to relax her furrowed brow and give her lip a break from her constant chewing. “I can do it,” she softly repeated back to him, still not breaking contact with his striking green eyes.

A stage manager passed by them, running to some other important task, but not before tapping her shoulder. “You’re on in 30 seconds,” he spoke, just as she heard the roar of the crowd begin, signalling the dimming of the lights in the arena.

“Go kick some ass,” he winked, stepping backwards from her and releasing her from his grasp. “I’ll be watching.”

Walking on stage, she wasn’t met with ‘boo’s that had plagued her nightmares, or mean looks from the audience, or rotten tomatoes thrown from the crowd.

They were screaming in excitement, screaming for her.

From the second she started playing, the crowd had her back; the ones that knew the words to her songs sang them along with her, and the ones that didn’t, happily danced to her voice. Before long, the smile she had forced onto her face was genuine, and her set passed by with ease. When her 25 minutes were up, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to get off the stage.

She took her final bow as the crowd roared, running off of the stage into the wings, looking for one person in particular. And when she found him, she threw herself into Harry’s open and waiting arms. “I told you that you were going to do great!” He spoke excitedly into her ear and he held her close to his body, his arms wrapped around her waist tight.

She liked the way it felt to be in his arms.

Pulling away from him, she saw the massive grin that he wore for her, noting how adorable his dimples were and how the excited look in his eyes made him look like a little kid. But there was more to his face than excitement, he looked proud.

“They were so nice to me, and they knew my songs, and they were screaming so loud for me, and it just went so well. I can’t believe it!” Her previous anxious chatter had become an exhilarated rambling and she felt on top of the world.

“I can,” he grinned, looking down at his watch quickly. “I have to go get changed.” If she wasn’t so amped up, she might have noticed the disappointment that flashed over his features. “Promise me you’ll watch the show?”

“Pinky swear?” She stuck up her little finger in the air.

“Pinky swear.” He kept their pinkies locked for a moment too long, then released her hand and ran backstage to get dressed.

She kept her promise and watched with excitement as the building shook when Harry took the stage.

She had never heard something quite so loud, sure her ears would be ringing when she snuggled into her bunk on the tour bus that night. Watching him perform was mesmerizing; he knew how to work a stage in every way and make every person in the arena feel like he was singing just for them. He was larger than life while performing and his little dances and mannerisms only got more pronounced the more comfortable he got on stage. He messed with Mitch, who she had only met a few hours ago (he was very nice), and constantly praised Sarah on the drums behind him, while he looked over to Adam and sent him smiles often.

Everyone in the building came for a show, and boy, did he give them one. It was amazing to watch. There was a reason she was a fan.

Bouncing off the stage, full of adrenaline and in a post-show high, he came to find her. It wasn’t hard, as she had never left her spot on the side of the stage, unable to rip her eyes away from the man before her.

“Oh my god, Harry! That was incredible!” she said with delighted amazement.

“I’m glad you liked it.” He was smiling down at her with a big toothy grin, a hand running through his sweaty hair and pushing it off his forehead. “They only get better from here.”

***

He was telling the truth. The shows only got crazier and more exciting as the tour went on, and so did their “relationship.”

About five shows in, Jeff had Harry given her his “H” ring to start wearing. Harry didn’t seem too phased by it all even though she thought it might be too much, saying “it’s like a friendship bracelet.” But it was too big for her fingers, not because she had small hands, but because Harry’s were absolutely massive. She wore it on a chain around her neck from then on and made sure to always be seen playing with it.

Fans took notice and loved it.

A little after that, Jeff sent them off to get matching manicures. Both had a melting rainbow of oranges, pinks, and browns on their fingertips, which looked amazing in the paparazzi photos of them walking around with their fingers intertwined.

The fans loved that too.

But when she “accidentally” posted a photo of Harry on her story, the entire world lost it’s shit. In the photo, he laid sprawled across a bed in only a white hotel robe that was creeping dangerously high up his thigh. He looked sleepy and slightly sweaty, in a post-fuck haze, and clothes that looked very similar to ones she had been seen wearing in public only days before were strewn across the floor. The caption read “I love getting to love you.”

The photo had strategically only been up for about 30 seconds, but by the time it was deleted thousands of people had seen it and screenshots had been taken. They quickly circulated the internet, creating a bit of scandal. But more than anything, people began to love the two of them together even more. Harry looked genuinely happy in the photo, and for most of his fans, that was all that mattered.

They were creating a fairytale love story for an audience, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying her role. She quite liked being his “girlfriend.”

Harry and Y/N had a way of clicking as they grew closer–quite literally as they were crammed together on a tour bus most of the time. They seemed to be able to finish each other’s sentences and always beat the other to the punchline of a joke. The pair had begun to pick up on the other’s mannerisms and habits; Y/N always teasing that Harry was going to rub his nose off one day if he kept rubbing it while he was thinking and Harry always knowing when she got enough sleep by whether or not she had put on eyeliner that morning. They swapped playlists back and forth in their bunks as they tried to doze off and always grabbed a cup of coffee for whoever had decided to sleep in the next day, now knowing the other’s order by heart.

There was only one thing she didn’t know about him that she longed to discover: what his lips felt like against her own. She could never think too hard about it though, or she may just explode.

He had become a calming presence and was currently helping her keep her cool, even though she knew the pair of interviewers across the table were getting ready to grill the pair for every detail they could get. His hand had settled on top of her knee to quell it’s nervous bouncing, but remained after she had stopped, even though no one could see his touch under the table. She watched as his thumb ran itself back and forth along the leg of her flashy orange and yellow patterned overalls and she had a hard time pulling her gaze away when the radio host across the large table began to speak.

“So Harry,” the bald man began. “Fine Line has been one of the biggest albums of the year and I just have to say I love it. It’s truly incredible.” She listened as the man continued on to sing Harry’s praises, going on to list his grammy nominations, sold out world tour, and other accolades. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched his cheeks tinge pink with the praise. She knew anyone watching would pick up on her adoring look and people fawn over it, but she knew her gaze was nothing but truthful.

“Thank you very much,” he said shyly, shaking his head slightly as he spoke into the microphone suspended in front of his face. “You’re too kind.”

“Stop being humble,” she teased him, playfully tapping him on the arm. “All of his music is fantastic,” she said turning her attention back to the man across from them, “especially Fine Line.”

“And there’s Y/N, being the supportive girlfriend,” the man chuckled.

“I support him in everything he does,” she smiled back, not having to embellish the truth at all. “He is an amazing talent and I think Fine Line shows that.”

It wasn’t hard for her to gush about him. It was actually quite easy. She absolutely adored him, as an artist, a friend, and the focus of her affection. She felt an equal warmth in her cheeks as she watched his get even pinker with her compliments.

“That’s actually something we wanted to ask you about,” the blonde woman sitting next to him piped up, a mischievous glint in her eyes that sent nervous butterflies flying around Y/N’s stomach. “One of the songs on Fine Line, Cherry to be specific, actually features the voice of Harry’s ex, Camille. How does that make you feel as his new girl?”

Y/N did her best not to gag at the woman’s question, gritting her teeth as she plastered on a polite smile. “Well, I think Cherry is a really great song and her voice at the end adds a lot,” she spoke as smoothly as she could, refusing to let on that the question rattled her. Harry’s light squeeze on her knee signalled to her that she had answered the question well.

“It’s also been three years since the song was written,” Harry cut in. “Things are obviously a lot different now.” He connected their eyes for a second while he was leaning back into his seat, sending her a short smile, but she knew him well enough to know it was genuine.

“Oh, definitely,” the woman eagerly agreed. “You’re in a great new relationship with a beautiful girl on your arm.”

“Y/N,” he emphasized her name as the woman had referred to her as a possession of his for a second time, “and I are very happy. Thank you.” To an onlooker, he was calm. To her, he was visibly uncomfortable by her words.

Y/N began to notice a clear pattern as the interview went on. Harry was asked exclusively about his music and the tour, while Y/N only became relevant to their interviewers when they wanted to mention their relationship.

When the man asked Y/N if she felt uncomfortable playing to Harry’s mainly female fanbase every night that are “so obviously jealous of her,” something snapped inside of her, sending all her hours of media training out the window. “I’m not uncomfortable at all,” she said curtly. “His music is great and he puts on an awesome show. I don’t think the audience’s gender really has anything to do with the music.” She watched the man’s face fall before she decided to go on. “And I would like to think that at least a few of them are there for me too. You do know I make music too, right?”

An indignant smirk found its way to her lips as the man stammered out, “yes, of course.”

“Okay. I was just wondering since you have only asked me questions about our relationship since we got here.”

She knew Jeff wouldn’t be happy, but at the moment, she couldn’t care less. They may not have really been dating, but the interviewers didn’t know that. All of their dismissal of her and her career was 100% real.

She had been so worked up that she didn’t even realize Harry’s hand had left her knee until it found its way to rest on her back. She leaned into his touch as he rubbed her back softly while she crossed her arms in front of her.

The interviewers looked at the two of them across the table, jaws both lying on the floor. It was quiet until Harry nonchalantly spoke. “She has a point.”

The last few minutes of the interview passed in an awkward blur that felt suffocating. She felt like she could finally take in a deep breath once they were in the back of a massive SUV being driven away from the studio.

“Jeff is going to have my head,” she mumbled under her breath, nose stuck into her phone as she scrolled Twitter to see what people were saying about her outburst. But before she could read any opinions, Harry's tattooed arm blocked her view as he gently pushed her phone down onto her lap.

“Look at me,” he murmured, beckoning her attention to the other side of the back seat. When she connected her eyes with his, his usual calming aura took over her, softening the stressed crease between her brows. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Harry, I just blew my career up into smoke because I couldn’t deal with a rude interviewer,” she huffed at him.

“No,” he disagreed softly, moving the hand that rested on her arms to interlock his fingers with one of hers. “You stuck up for yourself to people who were ignoring your work and whittling you down to your relationship.”

“But it was rude.”

“It was necessary.”

The car ride to the venue for that night’s concert was quiet, but Harry never let go of her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles in a comforting touch. She wasn’t sure if she ever wanted him to let go.

***

It was the early hours of the morning by the time the pair returned to their tour bus and went to crawl into their bunks.

Her performance had gone well and Harry was mesmerizing (as always). He was truly hypnotizing to watch while he performed and she hadn’t missed watching him yet, even as they drew close to the end of the tour. It was the best part of her day and she would miss it dearly after the last show.

She was almost asleep, curtain drawn and cuddled under a pile of blankets, when her cell began to ring. Her heart sank, knowing only one person who would know when she had a sliver of free time (even though it’s debatable if sleeping counts as free time). She was going to get scolded like she was a little kid in the principal's office and she knew it.

“Hi Jeff,” she answered with a sigh as she pulled the curtain back and slid from the bunk, the cold air of the tour bus nipping at her legs.

Her gaze was met by a snuggled up Harry wearing a concerned face across from her in his own bed. He never closed the curtain, not even when she asked politely to muffle his snores, always saying something about how it made him claustrophobic. He sent her a tired smile and mouthed “good luck,” extending a hand for a fist bump as she passed. Knocking their knuckles together put a brief smile on her face before she buckled in for the chewing out she was about to get.

Harry watched her intently as she paced up and down the front of the tour bus as she spoke to Jeff, too far away for him to listen in. Her face gradually turned from anxious, to surprised, to something that would have probably been happiness if she wasn’t so tired.

“Alright, thank you for everything.” She spoke softly when she finally returned to be within earshot for him. “Goodnight Jeff.”

“So?” he murmured groggily at her, brows raised in question at her.

“People loved it,” she said shocked, like she didn’t fully believe it herself. “They think I’m some kind of badass for shutting down a sexist. Which is, like, a lot,” she spoke with a disbelieving chuckle, unable to find the right words in her groggy state. “I don’t really know what to make of it.”

Harry seemed to spring up from his spot in his bed, smacking his head on the top of the bunk in the process, prompting them both to dissolve into a puddle of giggles.

“Don’t get too excited for me,” she laughed. “I cannot be the reason that you hurt yourself and have to cancel a show.”

“I was just too excited to say ‘I told you so,’” he smirked, now rubbing the side of his head through his curls.

“Cocky bastard,” she sarcastically murmured under her breath while dramatically rolling her eyes.

She watched with confusion as Harry left his bed, and after a short and frantic search for his pajama pants so he wouldn’t “offend her eyes,” he moved towards the front of the bus. Her eyes trailed him as he bent down to the small mini fridge and pulled out two beers.

“We have to celebrate.”

It was 2 AM and she had been so ready for bed after a long day. But she knew she could never say no to him. She thanked god that they had a day off tomorrow.

After retrieving her massive and lovingly worn Grateful Dead sweatshirt to protect her from the chilly air, she nearly ran to the front of the bus. His painted pink fingers moved with skill as he popped the bottle caps off with one of his rings, handing it to her and gently nudging his bottle against hers.

“Cheers,” he murmured softly as he looked down at her with a kindhearted smile.

“Cheers,” she seemed to whisper back to him, a flutter in her stomach reminding her how badly she wanted to reach out and connect her lips to his. Instead she slid into the small booth across from him, taking a long sip from the bottle as she watched him do the same.

“I want you to know that I was really proud of you today,” he said as he put his beer down on the table. “Rude interviewers are never easy and you handled it like a champ.”

“Thank you, H,” she nodded, suddenly bashful and unable to make eye contact with him. Her cheeks burned hot as she put all her focus into tracing the rim of the bottle with her finger tip.

“Hey,” he called for her attention and her eyes snapped up to meet his. “I mean it, Y/N.”

“I know you do,” she gently nodded at him. “I’m just really happy they didn’t ask about my ex,” she chuckled as she took another sip. “That would have gone very poorly.”

“Oh yeah, I was a little annoyed they brought up my ex but not yours,” he teased. “Not fair if you ask me.”

“Well, then I’m glad no one asked you.”

“Can I ask you?”

“What?”

“About your ex.”

She should have been prepared to talk about it with Harry at some point. Half of this plan had been devised to get back at James anyway. She should be able to talk about it by now, especially with someone she had grown so close to.

“I guess so,” she shrugged, trying to seem casual like the mere mention of him didn’t still hurt her heart a little bit. “What do you want to know?”

“As much as you’re willing to tell me.”

He looked soft like this, eyes slightly sleepy with a tenderness in them as he looked back at her. His hair was unruly and puffy and he was wrapped in the powder blue blanket that lived on the tour bus’ couch. She would have told him anything that he ever wanted to hear if he kept looking like this.

With a deep breath, she began to recount everything that went down.

“I met James while I was still working as a waitress. I recognized him from his movies and started a conversation, and then–to my surprise–he asked me out on a date. I had been in LA for three weeks and this insanely famous actor is asking me to go out with him, so I obviously said yes.” She paused to take a swig of her beer, before mumbling under her breath, “I should have said ‘fuck no’ to that.”

A smile ghosted over her lips as she listened to Harry’s laugh across the table. She swore that laugh could cure cancer.

“But I didn’t,” she continued. “He introduced me to the right people and helped me make the right connections in the industry, which I guess made me feel indebted to him. Does that make sense?”

“Of course,” Harry nodded, eyebrows furrowed and listening intently.

“I should have broken up with him after I signed with Jeff and the label, however awful that sounds. But he just always knew the right things to say to make me feel special and like I was the most important person in the world. Even after I found out he was talking to other girls, he was somehow able to talk himself out of it.” She shook her head as she recalled it. “You wanna hear something fucked up?”

“Always,” he said with a gentle smirk.

“He proposed to me using lines from a romcom he was working on.”

Harry nearly spit out his drink. “Holy shit, you’re kidding!”

“I wish. I didn’t find out until I went with him to the premier a few months later and the proposal scene sounded surprisingly familiar.”

“What a dirtbag.”

“I know, right?” she laughed. “Then a few weeks after that, he got papped with his tongue down another girl’s throat. That finally knocked some sense into me and I ran for the hills.”

“Fuck,” he sighed as he finished his beer. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she breathed. “I don’t even feel hurt by him anymore, ya know? I just feel angry at myself for trusting him.”

“I understand but it’s not your fault he was a piece of shit,” he said as he rose from his seat and traveled to the mini fridge once again. “Another?” he asked, holding the bottle up about his head.

“Fuck it,” she shrugged. “Sure.”

She watched him skillfully pop off the tops again using just his rings, making a mental note to make him teach her how he did that, before he flopped back down in his seat.

“At the risk of sounding like a Facebook mom, ‘you grow through what you go through,’” she chuckled, taking another long sip as she finished her first. He matched her high pitched giggle across the table and she nearly drooled beer down her front from smiling so wide.

“Amen, sister,” he agreed, raising his beer in the air.

“Oh, that was awful.” She shook her head as she descended into giggles. “Please never say that again.”

“Noted.”

“Anyway,” she began again after another sip of her drink, “I was well prepared to get my heartbroken by untrustworthy men after you, Styles.”

“I’m offended–tell me more,” he spoke quickly, his signature narcissistic smirk settling onto his features.

“I need you to know that Zayn leaving was my first real heartbreak.”

“Were the rest of us chopped liver?”

“You weren’t Zayn, I can tell you that.”

“Ouch!” He let out a loud belly laugh.

“Put yourself in my shoes for a minute, H. So first, the hottest-”

“Rude-”

“-I’m speaking. So the hottest one leaves, and then the rest of you are all like ‘we’ll be back in 18 months,’” she mocked him in a high pitched impersonation with a wave, “and then 6 months later you all mysteriously have solo careers.”

“I do not see you complaining about my solo career now, ya fame leetch.” He spoke with such humor and charisma, she couldn’t have even wished to be offended by his joke.

“Absolutely not, sir,” she said sternly, giving him a dramatic salute. “Deepest apologies from the fame leetch.” The two collapsed into giggles, laughing until their sides began to ache.

“Wait, I have a question for mega superstar Mr. Harry Styles of former One Direction fame,” she announced.

“I believe that’s me,” he bowed his head and raised his hand into the hair. “Shoot.”

She barely could get the question out, laughing too hard at her own joke. “Is Taylor Swift a good kisser?”

“Oh god,” he exasperatedly threw his hands in the air, chuckling while rolling his eyes dramatically before grinning wide as he thought over his answer. “I don’t kiss and tell,” he finally smirked.

“Wait, I have another!”

“Watch it, smart ass.”

“You think I’m smart?” she teased as she feigned flattery. “Have you ever heard of a song called ‘English Love Affair?’” He narrowed his eyes at her, a knowing smirk crossing his lips as he shook his head at her. “Also, when do I get to meet Gemma?”

“I’ll consider it when you stop bringing up her sex life, perv.”

“We’ve been dating for a few months now,” she teased as she continued to prod, emboldened by the liquid courage running through her veins as she was now half way through her next beer. “I think I should be allowed to meet the family soon. They seem delightful.”

“They would love how you have decided to rip into me like this,” he said with a cheeky smile, dimples on full display.

“Rockstars have to get knocked down a peg every once in a while.” She sarcastically shrugged. “Consider it a favor.”

She couldn’t help but think about how right this felt. Their back and forth flowed so smoothly, the banter falling from their lips without effort. Their laughter joined together in a delightful melody and she imagined they could go on this way all night.

Spending any amount of time with him made her so fucking happy; and time spent teasing each other over beers caused her to nearly explode with joy. How much she was enjoying herself was too hard to put into words.

He was safe and he was kind and he made her laugh no matter how bad his jokes were.

He was her best friend.

And for the first time, she was willing to admit that she was in love with him.

“Harry,” she hummed softly as their laughter died down to a comfortable silence. “Thank you for everything. You’ve changed my life forever and I can never repay you.”

“Just remember me when you get famous.”

“Oh shut up, I’m being serious,” she playfully scolded before letting her tone drop back into honesty. “You’re a very good person and I’m eternally grateful for you letting me be your opening act and then agreeing to this whole relationship charade.”

“I didn’t ‘let’ you be anything, Y/N. I picked you myself.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I listened to your album when it came out and fell in love with it,” he shrugged, his casual tone contradicting the surprised raise of her pulse. “When I found out Jeff also managed you, I knew I had to have you on the tour.”

Y/N was honestly stunned. She had always assumed that the tour was Jeff’s doing, a careful arrangement pairing Full Stop’s new up-and-comer with their most famous and established talent. Being offered the tour had been the biggest opportunity and honor she had ever been presented with; but she had never considered Harry himself being behind it.

“Oh,” was all she could manage to get out.

It was now his turn to be confused. “What’s so surprising about that?” he asked, reading the shock on her face like she was an open book.

“I just,” she stammered, trying to find the words in her slightly hazy state. “I never would have thought you knew who I was or listened to my music.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” she trailed off. “You’re you, and I’m just... me, I guess.”

He didn’t respond right away, just looking at her intently and slightly amused, sea glass eyes boring into her with a pink lip held between his teeth.

He scanned her frame, from the way her hair sat messily on top of her head and the way the massive sweatshirt swallowed her body enough to where she had pulled her knees up to her chest underneath it. Her shoulders were slumped slightly, making her appear smaller as she held her legs close to her torso and her eyebrows were knitted together in worry, slightly nervous under his intense gaze.

She downed the rest of her beer in an attempt to forget his intense attention. It didn’t work.

“You really don’t know how incredible you are, do you?” he finally asked, the corner of his lips twitching into a small smile.

She felt her whole body burn with his compliment, wanting to shrink into herself and disappear completely from his view. She finally shook her head slightly in an attempt to deflect his words, breathing his name under her breath as if to scold him for being too kind.

“You are,” he insisted, ignoring her objection. “You’re so talented and your music deserves all the attention that it gets. I am honored that I get to play a part in helping expose the world to you and what you have to offer.”

“Thank you.” Her words came out as a whisper.

“You’re welcome, love.”

His pet name made her stomach turn in a nervous excitement and a wide grin involuntarily came to her lips.

“I like it when I make you smile like that.” His words only made her beam further. “You look very pretty when you smile.”

“Stop it,” she said softly, cheeks burning hot and having a hard time making eye contact with him.

“Stop what?” He feigned innocence as he lightly teased her, smirk still prominent on his features.

“Are you flirting with me, Styles?”

“Just practicing.”

His words rang through her mind long after they had left the table and crawled back into their bunks for the night. She wished she could see inside his head to understand whatever thoughts were running around his brain.

But for now she could just peak at him through the gap she had purposely left in her curtain, wondering if she ever popped into his dreams as he slept.

He was always in hers.

***

There was a sadness mixed in with her usually thrilled mood as she took the stage for the last show of the tour. While there was an element of relief as she looked forward to some well needed rest, the adrenaline and joy of being in front of a crowd was something that she would miss dearly. She had grown into a real performer over the last two months as they zig-zagged across the US and this period of time would have a special place in her heart long after it had ended.

But there was another reason why she was so sad to see this chapter come to an end. As far as she knew, a staged breakup was not far away and the thought of being without Harry was heartbreaking. He had become her person and soon their feux falling out would be on the front page of every magazine. She wanted nothing more in the world than for their relationship to be real, but it would be forced to end before it had even truely started.

She got choked up as she sang her final song that night, letting a few tears escape as she took in the thousands of people singing her lyrics back to her, flashlights swaying in the air to the beat of the music. Taking a move from Harry’s own playbook, she took her mic and directed it to the crowd to sing as she cried. The vibrations of the drums and bass behind her nestled it’s way into her bones and the chorus of singing voices in the crowd surrounded her in a bittersweet melody.

The past two months she had been on top of the world, and as soon as this song finished, it was the beginning of the end.

She took her final bow, watching as the small tears fell forward onto the dusty stage below her. She waved and blew kisses to the crowd, then nearly ran off the stage looking for the only person she wanted to see.

Harry was right where he always was, just out of view behind the curtain, holding his arms out for her to fall into.

“Awe, babe,” he hummed sympathetically when she settled her head onto his chest, surely ruining his crisp white t-shirt with her now wet makeup. “It’s okay. Final shows are always tough.” He rubbed her back gently, in a soothing rhythm.

He smelled so good. He smelled like home.

She tilted her head up to connect her glassy eyes with his. “I just don’t want this all to end.” She knew she wasn’t just talking about the tour.

“Neither do I,” he said as his lips curved into a devilish smirk that sent her heart into palpitations. “That’s why I have one last surprise for you.”

“Oh, Harry,” she sighed while wiping the remaining tears off her cheeks. “What have you done?”

“You said you liked surprises!” he defended.

“Not surprises in front of 20,000 people!”

“I promise you’re going to love this one, okay?” His voice was softer now, encouraging and supportive. “You’re going to come out and sing an extra song with me during my set,” he revealed.

“Sing what?”

“That’s the surprise.”

“Do I even know the words?”

“You definitely know the words,” he chuckled.

“I just finished sobbing. I can’t go out there like this.”

“You can fix your makeup. I believe in you.”

“What am I going to wear?” she asked, grasping at straws at this point, doing anything she could to get out of this.

“I had Lambert put something together for you.”

“Of course you did.”

She peppered him with a few more questions, but he had a smooth and charming answer to every single one. He had thought every detail out, and as always, she couldn’t say no to him.

“Fine,” she finally exasperatedly agreed, immediately met with his excited and dimpled smile that she had fallen head over heels for.

“Perfect,” he breathed. “I have to go get ready and so do you. I already put everything you need in your dressing room, okay?” She nodded, still biting her lip anxiously. He held her by her shoulders, lowering his head to match their eye level as he leaned in close, before he spoke. “You’re going to have fun. I promise.”

“Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear.”

Seconds after they locked their little fingers together, he pressed a quick and protective kiss to her forehead that set her whole body ablaze before running off in the direction of his dressing room. She remained stunned and frozen in her spot for a few moments trying to process what it felt like to have his lips on her for the first time since that very first day they had met.

There was no audience to perform it for or an act to keep up behind the curtain. He kissed her because he wanted to.

She was finally snapped out of her daze when a stagehand bumped into her by accident, prompting her to begin the short walk back to her dressing room. But the ghost of his lips remained on her forehead, an incessant tingle placed there by his touch.

The dress she found waiting for her was one of the most beautiful gowns she had ever set her eyes on. Made of a light purple chiffon, the wrap dress’ long sleeves and floor length skirt flowed freely. A belt cinched the wispy fabric close to her waist and a deep-v exposed her neck and chest. But the most dazzling part of the dress were the red sequined hearts that dotted the fabric and reflected the light of the dressing room like a million little mirrors.

Slipping into it, the light fabric was soft against her skin, opaque enough but still slightly sheer to let light through and show off her legs and the bright red shiny pumps Lambert had left for her. She felt the most beautiful she had ever felt in this dress, boosting her confidence and quelling her nerves about whatever the hell Harry was planning.

“One minute to curtain,” was announced in an ominous voice over the arena’s backstage speakers as she finished fixing her makeup and she all but ran to make it back to the stage in time. She only had one more chance to watch him perform and she refused to miss a second of it.

Harry dazzled as the lights focused in on him, his deep blue and fully sequined suit reflecting the light and turning him into a human disco ball. He stood close to the edge of the stage as the beginning notes of the first song began being played by the band, but he made no move towards his mic stand to sing. His eyes were closed and his arms were outstretched to the audience, taking in every scream, every tear, and the thunderous shake of the building; but also giving himself to them.

Then the show began. As usual, he was electric, but tonight was like he had turned himself up to eleven. Every note he sang was full of his heart and every dance move was done with his entire body, even his bad jokes seemed funnier tonight.

She was so mesmerized she almost forgot about his ‘surprise.’ Almost.

“Since tonight is unfortunately our last show,” he pouted. “I thought I would do something special,” he spoke to the crowd as they roared, but quickly connected his eyes with her’s in the wings. By the smirk plastered on his face, she knew she was in for it.

“I recently found out that someone very close to me was a very big fan of…” he trailed off as he dramatically pretended to search for the right words, “my previous work.” He finished with a smirk and his words prompted the loudest reaction since he had been on stage.

“Now, I told her that she would be coming on stage to join me tonight, but I didn’t exactly tell her what we would be singing and I haven’t performed this song in a very long time, so cut us some slack if we mess up. This is very unrehearsed.” He kept sneaking glances back to her, as her eyes grew wider at the stunt he was currently pulling. “But I know for a fact that she knows all the words. I listen to her sing them in the shower quite often.” He wore a cheeky dimpled grin as he looked back at her once again.

The building was shaking due to the suspense he was creating, and looking down at her hands, she realized she was to. She gripped hard onto the mic a stagehand had just shoved at her, pleading with her hands to stop their tremors.

“Now, I would love it if you could all give another warm welcome to one of my favorite people on the planet, Y/N Y/L/N!” He turned his body to her for a final time, extending his hand out for her to take. Her legs felt like jello as she walked out into the bright lights towards him, interlocking her fingers with his as a way to keep her on her feet.

The audience’s screams were deafening at seeing the two of them together and she thanked god she had her earpieces in to protect her ear drums or they would have surely burst. She could only imagine the articles that would be written about this and the thousands of tweets that were probably already being sent.

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” she mouthed at him threateningly, but she couldn’t even get through the sentence before his dazzling smile began to quell her anxiety.

“The look on your face is 100% worth getting my ass kicked,” he answered smoothly before turning his attention back to the audience. “Everyone, sing along if you know the words,” he commanded their attention. “This is Ready to Run.”

Her jaw dropped and the crowd roared as the band behind her began to play the first few chords of the song she loved and knew so well. She had admitted it a few days ago that it was one of her favorites of his ‘previous work,’ but apparently he already knew that from the few showers she had taken on the tour bus.

“There’s a lightning in your eyes I can’t deny,” he began by himself, her brain still too shocked to jump in yet. He sang the first few lines to her with a giant grin plastered on his face, hand still holding tight to hers. His eyes had a playful glint in them that seemed to say ‘just have fun.’

“There’s a devil in your smile, it’s chasing me,” she finally began to sing, Harry fading his voice out so she could take the next few lines by herself as he admired her.

He did have a devilish smile, but it was one she loved with her entire heart. As she began to sing, she felt her muscles begin to relax into the song she had sung to herself so many times before, letting her body begin to bounce to the growing rhythm as her dress flowed around her.

The stage vibrated as Sarah beat her drums to introduce the chorus. “This time I’m ready to run, escape from the city and follow the sun,” the pair sang together, eyes still locked as their voices combined into the most perfect tune. “Cause I wanna be yours, don’t you wanna be mine?” they continued the lyrics. She felt herself meaning the words leaving her mouth more and more as they went on. She did want to be his, she couldn’t deny that. “I don’t wanna get lost in the dark of the night.”

Her apprehensiveness eased further as the music picked up and the hook went on, finally allowing herself to have a bit of fun. “Wherever you are is the place I belong,” they insisted towards each other, leaning in close before Harry grabbed her hand to dramatically spin her, the beautiful shining fabric of her dress splaying out around her. The next line was mumbled through giggles by both of them, but their laughter only added to the perfect moment they were having.

They danced across the stage together like there weren’t 20,ooo pairs of eyes watching them, both singing their hearts out to each other. It began to feel like they weren’t even there. It was just Y/N and Harry, serenading each other to one of her favorite songs.

“There’s a future in my eyes I can’t foresee,” she sang to him to start the second verse.

“Unless, of course, I stay on course and keep you next to me.” Harry grabbed her by her waist and pulled her into his side as he sang the words, prompting more giggles from her. She loved the way he smiled so wide as he sang, never breaking his eye contact with her and emitting pure joy. His eyes looked honest as he sang, like he meant every word just as much as she did.

The pair made their way through the rest of the verse and second chorus, flawlessly moving around the stage like they owned it. Y/N selfishly decided to let him have the bridge all to himself, needing to hear the way his beautiful voice hit the high notes. “This time I’m ready to run,” he sang passionately, executing the downward moving riff perfectly. “I’d give everything that I got for your love,” he pointed across the stage towards her, beckoning her back close to him. She quickly skipped to him at his request.

Like she had blinked, the song was already nearing its end.

“Cause I wanna be free and I wanna be young, I’ll never look back now I’m ready to run,” they belted the last lines out to each other. The band fell quiet on their last chord and the crowd exploded, but their noise fell on deaf ears as the pair stood so close their heaving chests were almost pressed up against each other. His eyes stared down into hers and she watched as his eyes flickered quickly down to her lips.

The world ceased to exist when he pressed his mouth to hers, even if it only lasted a second. It was nothing more than a peck, but it was everything to her. Her body igniting with heat and eyes full of shock, she looked back at him in simultaneous confusion and adoration, before realizing they had been staring at each other for too long. She needed to get off the stage so he could continue with his show. She walked back slowly towards the wings, letting the hand he had still been holding fall to her side. She waved and smiled to the crowd the best she could in her clouded mind.

“Thank you everyone!” she shouted into her mic as she moved out of their view. She shoved her mic into the first set of hands that would take it as she wobbled her way over to a table with water bottles. She nearly choked as she tried to suck one down, hoping it would ease the dizzy feeling he had created with his lips. Her lips burned just as her forehead had earlier in the night.

He had kissed her. He had sang a love song with her and then he had kissed her. She couldn’t decipher if that kiss was a confirmation that he shared the same feelings for her or if it was just another act for the cameras. But his mouth felt so right against hers. They fit together like a pair of puzzle pieces. She tried to suppress the optimistic hope that rose in her chest, but it began to swallow her whole.

When she heard his next song begin, she made her way back to the spot that had become hers at the side of the stage. She watched him perform the rest of the show in a loving haze, doe eyed and hypnotized, lips still buzzing from his contact.

He gave it his all. By the last song he was out of breath, drenched in sweat, and looked like he was about to pass out at any second. The crowd applauded for minutes after he left the stage and they were still cheering when she finally caught sight of him again. His curls were stuck to his forehead and his skin was shiny and flushed. He was panting, still trying to recover from his workout of a finale show; but he was beaming. His smile seemed to turn him into a beacon, emitting a light and positive energy that drew everyone backstage towards him.

She was so transfixed on Harry as he thanked the crew and accepted congratulations from all around that she just about jumped out of her skin when Jeff slinked up behind her and whispered ‘boo’ in her ear.

“What the fuck, Jeff,” she chuckled as she caught her breath, resting her hand on her chest and feeling her racing heartbeat.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on being half of the best fake couple out there,” he teased. “That kiss was perfect. People are losing their minds over it.”

“Oh,” she said softly, feeling every emotion she was distracted from while watching Harry rush back into her. Her heart sank as she remembered all the questions that continued to haunt her since she got off stage. “Thanks,” she murmured, plastering a smile onto her face. “I’m glad we could make you proud.”

“If you two could convince me, you can convince anyone.” Jeff walked off moments later, leaving her to sit in her confused thoughts as he disappeared into the hoards of bodies waiting for their minute with Harry.

She knew that she didn’t ‘convince’ Jeff of anything on her part. Everything she did with Harry was authentic and truthful. Including the thrilled grin that appeared on her face when she finally made eye contact with the exhausted man across the room. She gave him a shy wave that he sheepishly returned, biting back a shy smile. He pointed in the direction of his dressing room and mouthed “meet me in 15.”

She could never say no to him.

Fifteen minutes later, she was knocking on the large wooden door that had a single piece of paper that read STYLES haphazardly taped onto it. When it finally flew open, she was met by a soaking wet Harry with a towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. Her eyes trailed down his body without permission, taking in the toned torso that was decorated with his beautiful tattoos. Her eyes hovered over the two ferns that sat on his pelvis, too fascinated with the dark ink to pull her eyes away just yet.

She had obviously seen him in various states of undress before. They lived together on a tour bus without much space to exist with privacy, but this was different. He wasn’t rushing to get dressed or quickly changing his outfit. And he wasn’t moving away from her gaze at all.

If she hadn’t been so entranced by him, she would have noticed he was looking her up and down in the exact same manner.

She had changed since she had seen him last. The skin-tight black velvet romper she had brought along for the afterparty now fit her snuggly and held her every curve. The dark fabric was tight and appeared almost painted on, a rainbow racing stripe making its way down either side of her chest. The short shorts of the outfit exposed nearly all of her legs and the deep neckline put much of her chest on display as well. It’s long sleeves were her favorite part, as a strip of fringe dangled from below her arms any time she moved.

“You look great,” Harry finally choked out, his voice pulling their eyes back up to the other’s face.

“Oh, thanks,” she said, slightly awkwardly. “You too.”

“Well, I’m hopefully not going to the after party dressed like this,” he chuckled before stepping aside and ushering her into the room.

His dressing room was much larger than hers and she settled herself on the brown leather couch in the corner as she waited for him to get ready, sneaking glances up from her phone often. She chuckled as she watched him spend far too long fussing with his curls in the mirror, but was quickly distracted by the way his back and arms flexed when he reached up to muse his hair. Once he was satisfied with the way it fell, he disappeared into the bathroom at the back of the room. When he emerged, he was finally dressed, allowing her to take a deep breath and to focus on something other than his bare skin for the first time since he had opened the door.

The black satin suit was simple for him, but the tight white tank top that sat underneath hugged every muscle in his torso. She knew as soon as he got in the hot club, he would lose the jacket, and she would be devastatingly distracted once again.

The narcissist took one final look at himself in the mirror before turning to her and extending a hand. “Ready, darling?”

“You just spent 15 minutes exclusively on your hair and you’re asking me if I’m ready?” she teased as she took his hand, weaving her fingers between his as they exited the room together.

He leaned down close to her ear as they walked down the now mostly empty hallway, lips brushing over the hollow of her ear as he spoke. “I could have done it faster, but you were so obviously enjoying the show.”

“Relax yourself, Magic Mike,” she muttered indignantly, but hung her head in a way she hoped he couldn’t see how flustered he made her. Was she really that obvious?

They walked hand in hand out to the parking garage, now caught in a back and forth about whether or not Harry could be a male stripper. He said yes. She said no, although she did admit at one point that he worked his mic stand like a pole.

“Hey Jeff,” he called when they finally reached the parking garage where Jeff and Glenne had been waiting for them to head to the club. “Do you think I could be a stripper?”

“I think people would pay a lot to see it, but they may be disappointed in your dancing skills.”

“Come on,” he playfully whined. “I have some moves.”

“You have one move,” Y/N cut in with a chuckle, “and it’s the wiggle.” She brought her hands up near her chest, tilted her head back while dramatically biting her lip, and swayed her arms by her sides, earning a chorus of laughter from the people around her.

She hadn’t even realized she had done the move without releasing Harry’s hand first, dragging his arm into her dance as well, until their manager commented on it. “You know, you two don’t have to be holding hands all the time and keeping the show up back here,” he said with a slightly suspicious quirk in his eyebrows.

Her smile had been in the process of fading, like they had been caught doing something wrong, before Harry answered smoothly. “We know. Just practicing.”

There were those words again. Just practicing, she thought over to herself. But was he practicing anymore? How many flirty comments, heartfelt compliments, and warm touches did it take to cross the line of practicing to the real thing?

She wasn’t sure about Harry, but she knew that she wasn’t just practicing anymore.

She knew that the way they sat nearly on top of each other in the large SUV on the way to the club felt more than friendly. And the way he hadn’t stopped touching her in some way since they left his dressing room insinuated far more than something with business-like intentions. And the way he looked at her everytime he caught her eye the entire way to the club, always with a bright smile and adoring gaze that she always returned, pulled at her heartstrings far more than they should have if this was all an act.

A sloppy and cheeky grin settled almost permanently on his features after he had a few drinks in him, his arms moving in a lazy and fluid manner as she took in his many tattoos that he had exposed when he ditched his jacket (just like she knew he would). His butterfly was visible through the tight ribbed fabric of the white tank top and the little birds that peaked out from underneath seemed to be inviting her even closer to him in her now inebriated state.

All she wanted to do was to connect her lips with his as she watched him make conversation with someone from his management, entranced by the way his perfect mouth moved as he spoke. She once again craved the shocks of electricity that were created between them at the contact and could not stop thinking about it no matter how hard she tried. The protective hand that had settled onto her hip and continued to hold her close to his body just wasn’t enough anymore.

The pair had been drinking far too much; martinis turning into vodka sodas that had turned into straight tequila shots. She believed it was tequila shot four that did her in. The last thing she remembered was licking the line of salt off the back of her hand, downing the shot, and being entranced by Harry’s eyes as she bit down on the slice of lime he held carefully with his jeweled fingers.

***

The next morning, Y/N woke up in a hotel room that she didn’t recognize with a pounding headache and a swirling gut. It felt like she had been hit with a truck and she could barely pick her head up off the pillow.

She had so many questions about what had happened the night before. Where was she? Who let her drink that much? Whose clothes was she wearing? But most of all, what the hell happened after that fourth shot?

But she realized the worst was yet to come when she heard soft snoring coming from beside her. She knew that snoring well. It was the snoring that kept her up half the night for the last two months and the one that had almost driven her to suffocating her bus-mate in his sleep; the snoring that matched the crumbled black suit she just noticed in a ball on the floor.

It took every ounce of strength in her body to pull herself from the pillow and turn around in the bed to have her suspicions confirmed.

There he was.

His dark long eyelashes were fluttered down across the tops of his cheeks and his hair was going in every direction, skin clammy like his body was trying to rid itself of all the poison he had ingested the night before. The crumpled comforter was pushed down his stomach, his bare skin holding a sheen that helped define every dip or curve of his muscles and the tiniest bit of the band of his boxers peaked out to assure her that he at least wasn’t fully naked next to her.

Why were they in bed together? And why did he look so good? Oh my god, she thought as a possibility dawned on her. Did we sleep together?

“Harry,” she murmured softer than she intended, voice scratchy and mouth dry. The soreness at the back of her throat clued her into the copious amounts of screaming she must have done last night. He didn’t stir at her gentle coaxing, the light streaming through the windows making him look angelic as it covered him in a blanket of soft light while he continued to sleep.

It was a hard nudge to his chest that finally made him open his eyes, immediately releasing a groan she was sure she made when she regained consciousness too. He looked at her puzzled, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he propped himself up on his elbows. He took an equally confused look around the hotel room before looking back at her. She watched as the gears slowly turned in his head until his eyes opened wide and he spring up into a sitting position to mirror hers.

“We didn’t,” he whispered hopefully. “Oh my god, did we?” he asked, a look of horror crossing his face that matched her own.

“I have no idea,” she anxiously replied. “I was hoping you would know!”

“You don’t remember anything?”

“The last thing I remember was doing tequila shots with you.”

“I remember those.” He rubbed his eyes hard like it would somehow jog his memory. His eyebrows knit together, buried in thought as he searched his brain for a timeline. “I can follow the night up until we did karaoke.”

“We did karaoke?” she repeated incredulously and was met with a somber nod. “Do I even want to know what we sang?”

He shook his head slowly, shame clear on his face, before he finally mumbled. “We did ‘It’s Raining Men.’”

“Oh my god, no,” she whined, holding her head in her hands and rubbing her temples. There were surely videos of them sloppily singing on top of a bar circulating online and she wasn’t sure how Jeff would be able to spin that one in a positive light.

“Where’s your phone?” he asked, a hopeful glint in his eye as he reached for his own. “Maybe there’s something on there that can clue us in.” It took her a moment but she finally spotted it on the ground in the corner of the room. She said a silent prayer that it wasn’t dead or broken.

Forcing her heavy limbs out from under the covers she made her way towards the device, but not before she heard a confused sound coming from Harry. “How did you get my clothes?”

Looking down at herself and taking in the red lettering that read But Daddy I Love Him across her chest, it clicked that the t-shirt and baggy basketball shorts were his. But how they hell did she get into them?

“I think we’ve established at this point that I don’t know anything that happened after about midnight, Harry.” Her words came out laced with slight frustration. She hoped he knew she wasn��t annoyed with him, just their situation.

“Just a question, princess.”

She ignored his quip and began to search through her texts, call history, and photos, hoping to find anything at all that could help trace their steps through the night. She found nothing but a few selfies of them still at the club. One was the pair casually smiling, the next was one of him kissing her on the cheek that made her skin warm, but the final one made her snort out a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“I have a picture on my phone of you with two martini olives shoved up your nose,” she spoke through hysterical laughter. “Definitely birthday post material if you ask me.”

“Let me see,” he demanded with an adorable scowl.

She passed her phone over to him, still letting a few chuckles fall past her lips. “I’m gonna change your name in my phone to ‘Olive Nose Styles.”

“You're cruel.”

“You’re the one that put olives up his nose and then posed for a picture!”

“Whatever,” he grumbled, turning attention back to his own screen to continue his investigation. “There’s nothing of use on my phone either.”

The two flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling in the frustrated confusion. There was so much of their night that had gone up into smoke, completely unaccounted for with no clues as to what they did. Each traced their steps over and over again in their heads as they hoped desperately for a single detail that would lead them down a path to bigger memories, but it never came.

“Are we going to have to call Jeff and ask him what happened?” she finally murmured.

“I think so.”

“He’s going to put us both in client timeout, isn’t he?”

“We’re probably already there,” he groaned as he picked up his phone and hit Jefe Jeff-e in his contact list, putting the call on speaker and resting it on his still bare chest. The man on the other end picked up almost immediately.

“Morning Sleeping Beauty, I was wondering when I was going to hear from you.”

“Hi Jeff,” he groggily started then stopped, searching for the words that would make this all less uncomfortable. “Y/N and I have some questions about last night.”

Jeff let out a strained chuckle. “Yeah, that doesn’t really surprise me after last night’s bar bill.”

“Um,” Harry hummed, stammering but unable to form any real words.

“You sing about sex for a living,” she hissed at the man next to her before yanking the phone off his chest. “Jeff,” she started, taking over the conversation for them both. “Do you know if we slept together?”

“Probably not. You both were pretty unconscious when I put you in the hotel room.” His words prompted a massive sigh from both of them, looking to each other to share a relieved smile.

“Oh thank god,” they mumbled in unison.

“Jinx,” he smirked under his breath, prompting a ‘shut up’ from her.

“How did I get into Harry’s clothes?”

“I stopped by the tour bus when I realized you two probably shouldn’t be trusted not to roll out of your top bunks. I got you some clothes to sleep in before we took you guys to the hotel.”

“But why Harry’s?”

It was Jeff’s term to get squirmy. “I felt weird going through your things.”

“But you were perfectly fine with going through mine?” Harry asked, only half joking.

“Absolutely,” he deadpanned. They were all quiet for a moment before Jeff began again. “You two really don’t remember anything else that happened?”

“Everything after about two is unaccounted for,” she confessed.

“Oh,” Jeff chuckled. “So, you don’t remember when you stuck your tongues down each other’s throats on the ride home?”

Fuck.

Her eyes raced up to Harry’s from the phone she had been staring at like it held all the secrets of the night before. His easily readable features displayed all his emotions that surely matched hers. His pupils had grown in surprise, taking over nearly all the green in his wide eyes, and an embarrassed blush tinted his cheeks in a red hot flush that had reached the tips of his ears. His eyes flashed to the blank wall in front of them, running a stressed hand through his curls, like if he wasn’t looking at her, he would be able to focus better on the newly revealed information.

She couldn’t say that she didn’t relate. Her mind often went blank when she looked at him too. But right now, it was racing, occupied by anxious thoughts and intense emotions she couldn’t quite place, but felt with her entire being.

Her inevitable downward spiral was interrupted when Harry stiffly cleared his throat. “Uh,” he started, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. “We’ll see you later.”

“Sounds good, love birds,” Jeff replied, a clear snark apparent in his voice. Neither of the pair dignified his teasing with a response, Y/N quickly ending the call.

Silence hung heavy in the air and she let her eyes hover over the phone for too long when she settled it down on the bed, unwilling to connect her eyes with his just yet. Harry always had a way of staring into her and revealing all her cards to him before she even knew them herself. She wanted to hold them close to her chest for a moment, protecting the heart that longed for him more than anything else in the world.

There were no words exchanged between the two for a while as they silently took turns in the bathroom and occupied their hands and thoughts by their phones. They walked on eggshells anytime one neared the other. A tension like this hadn’t existed since the very first day they met, the first day they had begun to pretend.

Maybe that's why Harry was being so quiet. Maybe he never wanted to cross that line of pretending like she did. Maybe she had been blinded by his generally friendly personality and tricked herself into thinking there was anything more than a charade between them. Maybe last night really was just a drunken mistake, no matter how much she wanted it to be more.

“Maybe it’s a good thing that we don’t remember what happened last night,” she finally murmured from the opposite end of the room. She rested the side of her still heavy head and muscles against the wall, arms crossed in front of her as if they could keep her safe from the tension they had created. Her fingers nervously played with the hem of his t-shirt she was still dressed in.

“Why is it a good thing?” he almost immediately responded from the chair on the other side of the room he had settled himself into, running his hands along the satin pants of last night’s outfit he had put back on during their awkward shuffling around the room. He had even put physical space between them since they found out what happened, causing her heart to feel as if it was teetering on the edge of disintegrating.

“Well,” she stuttered, refusing to look at him and continuing to pick at her nail polish. “We’re just pretending so it would be weird if we really remembered it.”

“I don’t think it would be weird.”

“I don’t know,” she tried to maneuver her way around his response. “It might just be embarrassing to think about it.”

He let out a long and frustrated sigh, running his hands down his face. There was so much going on behind his eyes and she wished he would say something, anything, to break down the wall that hadn’t existed between them in months that was slowly reappearing.

“Do you regret it?” he asked bluntly, the abrupt question shocking her body to attention. “Do you regret any of this? Any of us?”

Did she regret drinking too much? Yes. Did she regret making out with him in front of their manager? Yes. Did she regret denying her feelings and pretending they didn’t exist for so long? Of course. But, did she regret falling in love with him? Never, not even for a second.

“No, I don’t,” she let out with a gentle shake of her head, no louder than a whisper.

“Neither do I.”

The words had barely left his lips before he crossed the room and crashed them into hers. The same fire she had felt on stage returned ten times over as his lips moved smoothly over hers, every neuron in her body lighting up like a switchboard. Her fingers reached up to curl into his hair and pull his lips impossibly closer to hers as her heart hammered in her chest with a passionate love she had kept under wraps for so long.

He tasted like the spicy peppermint toothpaste the hotel stocked in the bathroom and smelled like the tiny bottles of shampoo that rested on the side of the bathtub; but there was so much else about him that was completely unique–wholly irreplaceable and indescribable. He was just Harry.

Teeth clashed, lips were bitten, and hair was pulled as they took in every sensation the other created. His lips had been the only thought that captivated her mind since they were on stage the night before and her return to them did not disappoint. If her head wasn’t dizzy and her lungs not screaming at her for air, she would have stayed in that moment forever

When they finally disconnected, they stood against each other in a heaving and disheveled mess of heavy breathing and adoringly dazed smiles. She swore she could feel the pounding of his heart under her fingertips that rested on his chest.

“That was nice,” he eventually murmured down at her through heavy breaths, a love drunk grin finding its way onto his swollen lips.

“Yeah, I agree,” she hummed breathlessly, her anxious thoughts quiet and calm for the first time she could remember since she met him.

“I’m kind of disappointed I don’t remember doing that the first time,” he chuckled softly at her, shaking his head lightly in embarrassment with his pink tinged cheeks on full display.

“That’s okay. We were ‘just practicing’ then, right?” A giggle left her lips as she used the words against him. The same words he had used every time they let a glimpse of their true affections for each other slip past their guarded and friendly facade.

His dimples were exposed when he smiled a giant grin and let out a knowing huff, piecing together that she had caught onto his trail of excuses. “Yeah, just practicing,” he repeated softly, before his tone turned sincere and genuine. “I don’t want us to pretend anymore.”

“Good,” she said softly as her fingers slid up his neck to beckon his lips back down to hers. “I never was.”

“Neither was I.” She watched a soft smirk appear on his lips as they hovered over hers. “Do you want to keep not practicing?”

“Depends,” she quipped, lips brushing over his as she spoke. “Am I better kisser than Taylor Swift?

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!! REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK MEAN THE WORLD!!!

An extra for our babies can be found here!

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helliontherapscallion · 4 years

Text

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Tuesday

Monday Wednesday Thursday (Part 1) Thursday (Part 2) Friday Saturday Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: anxiety, doctor’s offices, taking pain pills (not sure if I need to tag that, but just in case), stalkers, blackmail, swearing, non-consensual taking pics of nudes, slight body dysmorphia, self-loathing, toxic friends

Word count: 5,326

(A/N): another long chapter, my little wlw heart loved writing this chapter! Also holy shit I was not expecting the first part to blow up, thank you to everyone that read it! Gosh, it’s enough to make a grown woman cry :’)

You cracked open your crusty eyes to Wilbur poking his head into your room. “(Y/n), Dad wants you.”

You groaned rubbing at your eyes in an attempt to get the sleep out of them. “I’ll be down in a sec.” Your voice was scratchy and thick with sleep.

He closed the door silently and you heard his socked feet thumping down the hallway. Your pain faded slightly into soreness, but your shoulders and upper back were slightly stiff. After you drug yourself out of bed, you shambled down the stairs to see your family at the table eating breakfast. Your stomach growled loudly, making you blush slightly in embarrassment.

Your eldest brother snorted. “Hungry (y/n)?”

You slumped into your seat next to him slowly shoveling food into your mouth. “You have no idea.”

“You wouldn’t be that hungry if you ate dinner when you got home like I told you to do last night, young lady. You better eat every single thing on that plate.”

There was no arguing with a stern Dadza, so you reluctantly complied. Meanwhile, Tommy and Tubbo were telling Wilbur about your match animatedly.

“And the ball was like fwoosh and she- the ball and-and-”

“And she hit it and Haley hit it to the other side! It was so cool!”

Wilbur merely smiled listening to them ramble about how badass you were last night. They made you feel genuinely happy that they admired your volleyball abilities; they were probably your biggest fans and that made your day most of the time. You remembered the first match they came to during your freshman year, they had run up to you right after the end-of-match whistle blew to spew about how good you were on the court. They met the team that day. Your team adored having them at your games, over the years they slowly replaced your school’s mascot. They played a huge part in morale boosts before and during matches.

He looked over to you, “I didn’t know my little sister could be so badass.”

You felt your cheeks flare up. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before. It really wasn’t anything special.”

“(Y/n),” Philza pursed his lips, “you did all that with a bruised back, I’d consider that something special.”

“Wait (y/n), you’re hurt?” Tommy and Tubbo looked at you with wide concerned eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s not that bad. I can still move and stuff.”

Techno rolled his eyes, “it’s bad if you’re going to the doctor for it.”

“Eh, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it did yesterday, so I’m not worried.”

“You’re deadass wincing everytime you move your arm,” WIlbur deadpanned, “it clearly still hurts.”

“Well yeah, I didn’t say the pain went away completely. Fuckin’ dumbass.”

“Language,” Philza glared at you two, gesturing to the two fifth graders watching the exchange with interest.

You and Wilbur resumed eating and murmured out a defeated “sorry Dad.” You both glared at Techno when he huffed in amusement.

“If you three keep bickering, you’re going to be late to school. Remember, you two have to drop off Tommy and Tubbo today cuz I’m taking your sister to her appointment. Now go get ready, I’ll take care of your dishes.”

Your brothers took off up the stairs, each competing to get to the bathroom first. Occasionally, you would hear shouts and slapping noises. You felt glad you didn’t have to deal with that today. Judging by Techno’s gruff voice laughing and an explosion of loud complaints from the rest, you assumed that he won today. “I swear, they’re gonna put me in an early grave.”

“You and me both Dad, you and me both.”

You went into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of pain pills from the junk drawer. Various bottles of Motrin and Advil were scattered around the house because when you live with a rambunctious family like this one, people are bound to get hurt and headaches are common. Popping three into your mouth, you washed it down with a glass of water. The sound of the running water faucet and the slight splashing of water filled the silence of the room.

“How’s your back? Does it feel any better?”

“Kinda, today it just feels more sore than throbbing, my headache went away mostly, and my shoulder doesn’t feel any worse, so that’s better I guess.”

He shut off the water and reached for a towel to dry off his wet hands. He moved over to the freezer and grabbed a frozen package of peas that your family never ate. You all used it whenever one of you would get a bruise. He moved behind you and held it against your back without warning. Flinching forward from the unexpected temperature change, you winced with the wave of pain moving brought you.

“Shit, sorry.”

“You’re good. Just give me a little warning next time,” you chuckled. He gently placed it back on your back and you sighed from the slight relief that it brought you. You leaned into the peas and closed your eyes. “That feels amazing.”

“I bet. That bruise was pretty bad yesterday, can I look at it again?”

You reluctantly left the sanctuary that was the medical grade frozen peas and leaned forward, moving your hair out of the way for him. “Knock yourself out.”

He made a hissing noise as soon as he moved your shirt out of the way. “Dad, it probably looks worse than it feels.”

“...Have you seriously not looked at this yet? It looks pretty bad, hun.”

“Well, sorry I can’t move to look at my back without being in pain. I’ll try harder next time.” You snarked him.

“Hey, watch the attitude. Here, I’ll take a picture so you can see how bad it is.”

You heard the rustling of fabric as he fished his phone out of his pocket and the obnoxiously loud click of his camera app. You turned around to look at the damage. You squinted at his bright phone screen. Your entire back was swollen in some areas and was covered in ugly reds, blues, blacks, and purples. You made a disgusted noise in the back of your throat and cringed away from the screen. You always got nauseous seeing injuries.

“Yikes.”

“Yikes isn’t the only word I would use, it’s bad (y/n).”

“It looks worse than it feels, I promise. I’m gonna go get ready so we’re not late to my appointment. It sounds like the boys are finally done with the bathroom.”

You hobbled up the stairs slowly and made your way to the bathroom. The door was wide open ready for you to use. Turning on the light, you closed the door in a hurry so that your brothers wouldn’t try to get in again to hog the bathroom like they usually did. You frowned at your appearance. Your hair was sticking up in every direction and you had dark eye bags around your dull looking eyes. A few pimples dotted your skin like constellations in the night sky, but much uglier and more out of place. Turning your body, you scanned your figure. Your eyes watered as you realized that you had gained some weight. Adrian, Sammy, and Annie were right, you looked like garbage all the time.

You ripped your eyes away from yourself in the mirror with disgust etched deep into your features. You were disgusting through and through. Ripping your brush through your hair, you winced at the pain emanating from the back of your head. You deserve the pain for letting yourself go. Once you were slightly more satisfied with your appearance, you stepped out of the bathroom and quickly changed into the clothes you would wear today. You decided on a hoodie and a pair of tights. You didn’t feel like dressing yourself up.

You once again walked down the stairs and slipped on your shoes to meet your dad in his car. You idly scrolled through your phone while you waited for him, looking at your notifications for the first time that day. You had ten texts from the group chat that you were in with Adrian, Annie, and Sammy.

Sammy <3

(Y/n) where the hell are you?

Adrian <3

Do you guys think she ditched us?

I knew she was ignoring us

Sammy <3

Who ignores their friends?

Annie <3

(Y/n) apparently.

She has more important things to do ig

Oh my god

Do you guys think she skipped school?

Adrian <3

I wouldn’t put it past her

Maybe she finally gave up

(Y/n)

I’m sorry guys, I just have a doctor’s appointment today

I would never ignore you

Sammy <3

Yk, it’s hard to keep defending you when you keep ditching us..

(Y/n)

I’m not ditching you!

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys about my appointment

I’ll make it up to you guys

Adrian <3

How?

You’ve already skipped out on us enough already

Annie <3

Oh ik!

She can write our final research paper for us Dri!

I haven’t started it yet lmao

Adrian <3

Saaaame lmaoooo

Sammy <3

Guys, what about me???

Adrian <3

Idk, figure it out yourself

Sammy <3

Rude!

Uhhh

Ur gonna put together my final presentation for us history

(Y/n)

Alright, I can do that for you guys

Sam can you pls send me the rubric?

Annie <3

Thanks love ;)

(Y/n)

No problem, I like doing things for friends

My dad’s coming, I gotta go

Talk to you guys later

Adrian <3

Byeeee (y/n), ur the best!

(Y/n)

: ) <3

You put your phone down as your dad started up the car and pulled out of the driveway. The drive was quiet as you stared out the window and thought about how much work you now had to do. On top of your own classes, you had two more to write and a presentation to make in a class you hadn’t taken since the first semester in your sophomore year. The research papers had to be at least four full pages long with a minimum of ten sources each due on Friday and you had no idea how big Sammy’s US history presentation has to be or what it’s even about. But that was fine, you’d do anything for your friends.

“So, who were you texting? Your boyfriend?” He asked jokingly.

“Oh, just Adrian, Sammy, and Annie. I don’t have a boyfriend Dad,” because you were a closeted lesbian, but you wouldn’t tell him that anytime soon. “You know that.”

“I know,” he chuckled, “it’s been a while since I’ve seen them. How have they been?”

“They’re good. Adrian got a job at the diner, he’s a host. Sammy and Annie have been focusing more on raising their grades.”

“Good for them! You should invite them over for dinner sometime.”

“I was actually thinking that I could maybe go hang out with them on Halloween...?”

“(Y/n), the family was going to take Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating.”

“I know, but there’s always next year. Plus, we haven’t been able to hang out in so long! We’re always free at different times.”

“I don’t know (y/n), what if they don’t want to trick-or-treat next year? What were you planning on doing with them?”

“We were just gonna hang out at Annie’s house and watch some horror movies,” you lied. He would never let you go if he knew you were going to a party. Especially one where alcohol would be involved and hormonal teenage boys ran rampant actively scouting for an easy lay.

“...I’ll think about it.” The car pulled into the doctor office’s parking lot.

“Thank you Dad! It’s been a while since we’ve all hung out together.”

He chuckled as you both walked into the lobby, checked in, and waited for your name to be called. About ten minutes later, you were summoned by a nurse so you went into the back leaving your dad to wait in the lobby. The nurse recorded your height and weight (much to your dismay, you gained four pounds) and asked you the standard questions about your injury and uncomfortable questions about your overall health. The clacking of her acrylic nails on the plastic keyboard filled the awkward silence.

Once that was done, she left and you had to wait a little bit for the doctor. After slipping into the backless gown the nurse left, you mindlessly scrolled on your phone. Jumping when someone knocked on the door, you looked up to see your family’s doctor smiling at you.

“Hello (y/n), how are we feeling today?”

“I’m alright.”

“I hear that you had quite the fall onto some concrete, is that true?”

“Yes, I landed on my back and the back of my head.”

She reached over and squirted hand sanitizer onto her hands, rubbing it in and looking back at you. “Can you please lay on your stomach so I can take a look at your back?”

You nodded, shifting on the uncomfortable paper covered cushioned table onto your stomach. You felt her cold hands gently graze your bruises before she pulled out her stethoscope. “Can you take a good deep breath in for me?”

You complied and she instructed you to let it out. Doing this multiple times along your back, she put her stethoscope away and continued prodding at your exposed back.

“There’s definitely some swelling in multiple areas… It doesn’t feel or sound like you cracked or broke any ribs, which is excellent… Do you have any pain deep in your shoulder when you move it?”

“Yes, I landed on it wrong last night at my volleyball match.”

“How would you describe your pain? Stabbing, sore, throbbing…”

“More sore, but a little stabbing pain when I move my arm.”

She moved her fingers to examine your shoulder. “It doesn’t sound like a sprain or fracture, can you move it up and down for me?”

You moved your arm up and down, front and back, and side to side. “You still have a full range of movement, that’s good. Can I have you sit back up again?”

You sat back up and she started testing you for a concussion. After passing her tests, you were cleared of having a concussion. “Alright (y/n), it appears that you only strained your deltoid and teres muscles and you have severe bruising along your back. Make sure you ice your back and, if you have one, wear a shoulder compression sleeve. Anti-inflammatory medications such as Ibuprofen will help with the swelling. Other than that, you have a clean bill of health! You can still participate in volleyball practices, but you need to take it easy. Don’t do anything that will strain the muscles any further.”

“Thank you Dr. Samson,” you smiled at her.

“You’re welcome. I’ll leave you to change back into your clothes and you’re free to go! You may leave the gown on the table.”

She left the room and you redressed yourself. Walking out to the lobby, Philza’s head perked up when he heard the door opening. He stood up and walked over to you with a slightly worried face. You both walked back out to the car.

“So?”

“Dr. Samson said that I don’t have a concussion, sprains or broken bones. She told me that I just strained my shoulder muscles and I need to keep ice on my back.”

He visibly slumped in relief. “Thank god. What’d she say about volleyball?”

“She said that I could keep playing, but I have to take it easy.”

“Good, wouldn’t want you missing finals on Thursday. Do you know if the team you’re playing is any good?”

“Dad, of course they’re good, we’re the top two teams in the area.”

“I bet their setter is nowhere near as good as you are and I bet the setter and spiker aren’t as synced as you and Haley are. You two make a good pair.”

“Yeah we do, don’t we?” You looked out the window and smiled a little and felt your ears turn red. The very mention of Haley’s name was enough to make you feel like you were on cloud nine. The car fell silent again as you neared your high school.

In your AP world history class, the class was looking at the test you had taken yesterday. Surprisingly, you got a 74% on the multiple choice part and a 50% on your essay portion, so that landed you with a just below passing grade. You thought you completely flunked that test yesterday, so that was a pleasant surprise. It took a good portion out of your overall grade in the class, lowering it from a comfortable A- to a slightly alarming B. You supposed it could’ve been a lot worse. Besides reviewing your tests, the class didn’t do much except starting the reading for the next chapter.

Your psychology online class went like it usually did, however your phone blew up with texts about midway through the block. Glancing down, you saw that it was Haley. Shouldn’t she be in class?

Hales : )

(Y/n) meet me in the locker room right after school

I need to talk to you before practice starts

It’s an emergency

(Y/n)

What’s going on?

Hales : )

I’ll explain after school.

Can’t talk about it over text

(Y/n)

Alright, see ya then ig

You felt your gut twinge. Something’s wrong, but you didn’t know what. You were worried about Haley, usually she was really bubbly. You’ve never seen the senior act so strange before. You could only wait the block out until the bell would release you from the confines of the library and into the locker room. After sending a quick text to your brothers that you were going to stay after school for your practice, you stared blankly at your laptop’s clock as you counted down the minutes left in the class period. Ten minutes. Eight minutes. Four minutes. Two minutes. Thirty seconds-

You shot up from your seat as the bell rang. Pushing past some groups of freshmen that congregated in the hallways, you made a beeline for the locker room. In the locker room, you found Haley sitting on the metal bench on the opposite end of the locker room with her back facing the last row of lockers and facing the brick wall. She was clenching her phone in her hand with an iron grip. You hurried to sit next to her.

“Hales, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

“It’s bad (y/n). Like, really bad.”

“What’s bad? You’re worrying me.”

Wordlessly, she unlocked her phone and handed it to you. On the screen was something that you weren’t expecting to see. You scrolled through the contents and felt your stomach drop with each scroll; someone took pictures of you and Haley throughout the match last night. Every picture was a violation to yours and Haley’s dignities, they had gotten zoomed in pictures of your boobs and asses. Deeper, there were even pictures taken of you changing into your volleyball uniform through your open window. You were only in your underwear. Haley had a similar picture that you scrolled past as fast as you could. Scrolling to the bottom of the text message thread, the person that sent Haley the pictures added a caption to the last picture. It was a picture of you and Haley together celebrating your match, her arm slung around your shoulder with your mouth open mid-laugh.

Unknown

I’m sending these out to the entire school unless you stop hanging around her.

If you tell anyone, the pics will be printed off and put in every single locker and bathroom the school has.

You’ll be the sluts of Klinkver High.

Cut all ties now. You have two days.

Do not try me.

“Jesus christ Haley. Who the fuck would do this? This is sick.”

She took her phone back and locked it without looking at the screen. “I don’t know (y/n). I wanted to tell you not to openly talk to me for a few days. We don’t know who took these, we don’t know what they’re capable of. I don’t wanna risk angering them.”

“We can find them! If we look close enough, we might find a few clues where they were sitting. Do you remember seeing anything suspicious last night?”

“(Y/n), our best option is to leave it. We just can’t talk in person anymore; we can still text each other.”

“Hales, how are we gonna not talk? I’m your setter.”

She ran a hand through her thick black hair. “I don’t know (y/n). Just-just don’t talk to me anymore, I don’t want your pictures leaked.”

“I don’t care about my pictures. My name’s been drug through so much shit this past year that it won’t affect me. I don’t want your stuff leaked.”

She gave a watery laugh, “you care too much, I love that about you…” Glistening eyes turned to look deep into your own. “I’m so scared (y/n), I don’t know what to do.”

You pulled her into a hug, wincing slightly when she squeezed her arms around your upper back. She buried her face into your shoulder and started shaking with muffled sobs. “Haley, I promise I’ll catch whatever sick bastard is doing this to you. You don’t deserve this.”

She said nothing as you rested your chin on the top of her head and started to rock her back and forth slowly. You two stayed like that even after her sobbing resided, finding comfort in each other’s presence. Glancing at the clock, you realized that you two have been in the locker room for an hour. Practice was set to start in fifteen minutes, people were going to start coming into the locker room soon.

You reluctantly pulled away from the hug and looked Haley in her bloodshot eyes, “I’m not going to let those pictures of you get leaked. I swear on my-”

The door to the locker room swung open and loud laughter echoed throughout the room. Haley pushed you away and speed walked off to a bathroom stall, slamming the door shut behind her.

“Damn (y/n), what’d you do? She’s pissed.”

“It’s none of your business, Zara.”

“Oh, so it’s a lover’s quarrel then~” She cackled, her hair bouncing slightly with each heave of her shoulders.

“For the love of… Haley and I aren’t dating, we’re both straight.” She’s straight.

“Mmhm.” She brushed past you to go to her locker. You followed her, your locker was in the grouping next to hers. You shared the area with Haley. You changed as fast as you could so that Haley would have time to change before practice starts. Speed walking into the gym, Zara was hot on your trail wearing a shit eating grin.

“Why are you in such a rush? Giving your girlfriend the silent treatment?”

“Zara. We aren’t dating. For the last time, we’re both heterosexual, not homosexual!” You wildly gestured with your hands to emphasize your point, your voice being amplified by the vast gym. Coach Williams gave you a confused look from across the gym.

“You just keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m serious.”

“Hi serious,” a soft voice replied from behind you, “I’m Jazzy.”

You groaned at the pun at the same time Zara started cackling, giving the short libero a high five. “Nice!”

“That was so bad, Jaz.” You couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto your face.

Zara poked your cheek with a wide grin. “C’mon, you’re smiling!”

“I am and I hate it.”

Your bickering continued with Jazzy watching you two with a content smile. The remaining members of the team (Haley, Marlene, and Zuri) filed into the gym right as Coach Williams blew her whistle.

Practice went by slowly without Haley talking to you. Sure, you had the rest of the team, but it didn’t feel the same with you guys ignoring each other. If the team or Coach Williams noticed you two not talking to each other, they didn’t say anything. By time practice was over, you all went to the locker room to change. After slipping into your fuzzy pajama pants, you sat on the bench and texted Wilbur to come pick you up. He was supposed to pick you up after practice today because he and Techno took the car home after school. Five minutes passed and he still didn’t reply. He probably won’t see the text until you got home from walking.

You sighed, resting your chin in your palm as you leaned forward. One by one, the girls left the locker room until it was only you and Haley left.

“Do you need a ride (y/n)?” She asked gently.

“But what if the person sees us together? I can just walk home, it’s not really a big deal.”

She rolled her eyes at you. “It is a big deal. It’s cold and dark out. You could get kidnapped or something. You don’t even have a coat with you. I’m giving you a ride whether you like it or not.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her and stood up to walk next to her, “okay, mom.”

“Don’t give me that attitude young lady.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my real mom!”

She gasped and lightly smacked the back of your shoulder, “I married your- are you alright? Shit, I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, you’re good. It’s just this damned bruise.”

She moved her hands and frantically turned you around to pull the neck of your shirt down. You two stood in front of the school’s main entrance with the nauseatingly bright fluorescent light bouncing off the reflective surface of the tiles. The orange tinted street lights lit up the sidewalk outside.

“(Y/n)-”

“I know what you’re gonna say.”

She scoffed, “oh really? What am I gonna say then, o wise one?”

You turned around to face her, “‘oh, this is bad, yadda yadda yadda.’ Everyone’s been saying that about it. Honestly it looks worse than it feels. Tis but a scratch, m’lady.”

She snorted and covered her mouth, “never call me ‘m’lady’ ever again.”

You started to walk to her car in the empty parking lot. “Or what? What’re ya gonna do?”

“I swear to god, (y/n), I’m gonna leave you here.”

“Do it, pussy. Bet you won’t.”

“You really wanna bet?”

You grinned at her, “hell yeah.”

She broke off into a mad dash to her car, laughing freely into the night sky. You chased after her trying not to move your arms much, your laugh mixing with hers like a perfect symphony composed of the world’s best musicians. The sound of your rubber soles slapping the pavement resonated throughout the parking lot as you quickly gained on her. Reaching out to grab her shirt, she smirked at you and sharply turned to the right into the grass.

You grinned as her pace slowed down slightly. You’d be able to catch her at this pace. You pushed your legs to move faster as she looked at you from over her shoulder and shrieked in surprise at how close you were to her. You cackled at her reaction, reaching out once again, you grabbed her hand. She was stopped dead in her tracks as your shoulder was yanked with the sudden momentum, making you hiss in slight pain. Despite that, you didn’t let go of her soft hand.

You both stood there under the moonlight and the soft orange street lamps trying to catch your breath. The slightly damp blades of grass tickled your ankle as you shifted to face her better. Through gasping breaths and a dopey grin, you said “you… lost, pussy.”

She let out a breathy laugh as she pulled you to her car. “Shuddup.”

“Make me~”

She opened the passenger side door for you and got into the driver's seat. Her car smelled like vanilla and citrus. “Oh, you will later when I make you do more sets in weight lifting tomorrow, hurt shoulder be damned.”

She turned on the ignition and the car revved to life, soft indie pop wafted from the speakers. She backed out of the parking space and sped off to the main road. “You wouldn’t…”

“I’m your captain, (y/n). I can make you do whatever I want.” You felt your cheeks heat up a tad. You were happy that she couldn’t see you.

“Naw, you’re too much of a softie for that. Admit it, I’ve got you wrapped around my little finger.”

She chuckled as she pulled into your driveway and put the car in park. “...Alright, maybe you do. Just a bit.”

She turned to look at you. She looked stunning with the shadows accentuating the contours of her face perfectly. You found yourself glancing at her lips and leaning slightly towards you. To your surprise, she started leaning into you as well. Before your lips could finally mesh together, she pulled back with a sigh and ran her hand through her hair. You felt a rush of disappointment and fear course through your veins. She didn’t like you like that, you should’ve known better. You were so stupid. So, so stu-

“I can’t (y/n). I want to kiss you so bad, but we can’t. Not yet at least. Not until we find the pervert that took those pictures of us.”

You sighed, “right.”

The car was filled with awkward silence. Not even the soft music streaming from the speakers could alleviate the awkwardness. God, you really screwed up your friendship, didn’t you? Sammy, Adrian, and Annie were right; you messed up everything you touched.

You coughed, “I think I’m gonna…”

“Yeah…”

You grabbed your bag and walked into your house, the smell of chicken slapping you in the face instantly. Without checking in with your dad, you hurried up the stairs, desperate for the warm comfort of your bed. That, and if you wanted to get Sammy’s presentation and Adrian’s, Annie’s, and your research papers done by Friday, you had to start as soon as you could. You were going to skip dinner for tonight, you’d just grab more breakfast tomorrow morning.

You plopped on your bed and got started on your research paper. Luckily, you already had all of the sources you were planning on using and the rough outline of each body paragraph, so writing the actual paper wasn’t going to take long. You worked until you heard a knock at your door.

“(Y/n),” Techno’s monotone voice called out, “dinner’s ready.”

“Tell Dad I’m not hungry. Practice’s got me beat, I’m going to bed soon.”

He grunted, “you know he’s not gonna like that right?”

You felt frustration start to swim circles around your chest, “Techno, just tell him that I’m not hungry right now. Please.”

“Damn, you don’t need to be like that. I’ll tell him.”

You heard his stomping footsteps thumping down the hall. Shit, you pissed him off. You were a terrible person, he was just trying to get you to eat something, Pushing back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, you forced the panic that was starting to swirl around your body in laps deep into your being. You didn’t have time to deal with your failures and stupid emotions, you had to get this done. You didn’t have time to think about Haley’s warm breath ghosting across your lips. You didn’t have time to think about how she probably regretted almost kissing you. You didn’t have time to fall into an anxiety spiral, you needed to focus if you wanted Adrian, Annie, and Sammy to forgive you. You ruined yours and Haley’s friendship and did the same to yours and Techno’s. They were the only ones you had left. You needed to be a better friend.

Taglist (comment if you want to be added or if I missed you, it won’t let me tag some tumblrs :((( ):

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