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wowweeharrystyles · 5 years

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Part 9 | The Jumpsuit, Falling & (more) Ripped Trousers | 6.1k words

Sequins & Zippers’ Summary: An internship with Harry Lambert transformed into a job of a lifetime - Aurora Del Gatto finds herself touring the world with the one & only Harry Styles as his ‘Head of Wardrobe.’ Aurora is nothing but nerves & excitement as she packs her bags & almost 100 custom designer suits that belong to an unbelievably kind rockstar. She never thought she’d fall in love on top of it all.

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

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a/n: I hope y’all are doing what you need to during this crazy time. All the love to you all !!! 💕also...a little bit of niall in this part... go stream HBW !!!

The loud knock on the door causes Harry and Aurora to jump and scramble to sit up on the couch.

“Heard there’s a curly headed boy in here!”

A once blonde, now brunette head pops into the doorway. If the irish accent wasn’t enough to give away who it was, his face surely does. Aurora messes with her hair and Harry wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, trying their best to compose themselves. They had made their way back to Harry’s dressing room from the empty arena before Harry was to be pulled away for training, soundcheck and all the usual pre show prep. One thing led to another and the episode of Friends Aurora had pressed play on was long forgotten.

“Niall!” Harry exclaims, jumping off the couch. He hugs his old friend as Aurora is frozen on the couch. Harry hadn’t even mentioned the possibility of Niall coming to the show tonight. It didn’t even cross Aurora’s mind that in Dublin (duh), that Niall might be in attendance. A deer in headlights describes Aurora best at this moment. “Haven’t seen ‘ur hair this messy in ages! Who do you have here with you?” Niall jokes, his laugh filling the space. When Harry steps out of the doorway to invite Niall in, he fixes his hair and Niall’s laughter stops. Niall lets out a surprised “Oh,” with a small laugh.

“Uh, Niall, this is Ror- uh, Aurora,” he corrects himself, a dopey smile forming on his face.

“Lovely to meet you, Aurora,” Niall offers a hand out to her.

“Wasn’t how I was intending to introduce the 2 of you, but here we are,” Harry adds.

“Uh, great to meet you as well, Niall,” Aurora says as she stands up. She shakes his hand. “Harry, you could’ve said he was coming,” Aurora comments directly to Harry.

“It wasn’t for sure yet and I kind of wanted it to be a surprise,” Harry tells Aurora.

“A surprise?” Niall questions. “For Aurora?” He continues to question as he gestures to Aurora, a small look of confusion on his face.

“Ugg,” Aurora groans, to no one in particular, “Harry, please don’t.”

“Hey, if you’re going to rub in my face that you were once a ‘Niall girl’,” he uses air quotes to pester her more, “then I’m going to have some fun with it.” Niall’s laugh echoes off the walls of the dressing room.

“I’m gonna need more of a story behind this,” Niall says through bouts of laughter.

Aurora groans again, rolling her eyes at Harry before turning back to Niall. “Wish we could've had this conversation over some drinks, but here we are.”

“We could get drinks right now, I know where the bar is,” Niall adds.

“I’m technically working… so drinking is a no,”

“But making out on the couch is fine?” Harry asks through a chuckle, Niall’s laugh joins in.

“Oh god, the 2 of you together is really gonna be like this huh?”

“Like what?” Harry asks.

“You 2 picking on me and just overall, chaotic.” The 2 former bandmates shrug their shoulders when they make eye contact.

“Anyways,” Niall circles back to the original request, “I need the story. Correct me if I’m wrong, but did Harry say ‘Niall girl’?”

“He sure did. I made the mistake to share that I once had One Direction posters on my wall growing up. Definitely pumped Harry’s ego a bit and I had to bring it down by informing him that I was a quote unquote a Niall Girl back then.” Aurora sighs and then laughs at the face Niall is making at Harry. “Ni, you don’t have a chance anymore, so stop even entertaining the thought in your head,” Harry says as he tosses an arm around Aurora’s shoulders.

“How much does it kill you that she had posters of me in her room?” Niall asks Harry.

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” Harry states with a straight face.

“Can we not talk about any of this anymore?” Aurora questions, her cheeks flushed from embarrassment still. Both Harry and Niall’s laughter fill the room once again and Aurora can’t help but smile at the 2 old friends.

Harry ushers them both to the empty couch and chairs to sit back down. Niall opts for the chair after grabbing a sparkling water from the fridge under the vanity counter. Niall seems carefree and comfortable. Harry doesn’t talk much about being in the band or the other guys much. It’s not that he avoids it at all costs. If it comes up he’ll talk but he doesn’t volunteer the conversation himself. Aurora does know that he keeps in touch with Niall the most. She had caught him giggling at something on his phone recently and when she asked what it was all he said was that Niall sent him a joke.

“I’ve seen the suits you’ve got our boy Harold in, they’re incredible, really,” Niall comments to Aurora.

“Oh, yeah, I only helped pick some of them out, thanks though,” Aurora says shyly.

“Don’t do that,” Harry interrupts. “You’ve done more than that.” Aurora only blushes slightly and shakes her head.

“Getting him in clothes is the hardest part, honestly,” Niall comments.

“Why does everyone say that?” Aurora questions. “Gemma made the same comment and Lambert alluded to it as well.”

“Harry over here was barely dressed half the time and would put up a fight when he was told to put pants or a shirt on for anything. Quite a show off back in the day,” Niall shares.

Aurora laughs, “Well, I haven’t had much trouble.”

“Think there’s something more in it for him when he listens,” Niall says.

Harry rolls his eyes at Niall. An alarm rings from Harry’s phone.

“I’ve gotta head to sound check, wanna come with, Ni?” Harry asks as he stands up. Niall agrees to join and the 2 boys stand up to leave.

“Have a good sound check,” Aurora says before pressing a kiss to his lips quickly. “Niall, seriously it was great meeting you. I’m assuming you’re staying for the show?” He nods, “Great, I’ll see you later then.”

“Great to meet you too. See you later, Aurora,” Niall says, his blue eyes bright and his irish accent strong.

| | | | |

Harry’s dressing room becomes a common room tonight and by the time Harry has to get ready, his whole band is in here. Niall’s tagged along with Harry since he got here earlier and Aurora has enjoyed the commotion for once. Niall is sharing a story about one of the many shows they had done together when Aurora finishes prepping Harry’s jumpsuit for the show. She joins Sarah on the couch while waiting for Harry to be done with Ayae.

“He falls flat on his arse,” Niall continues telling the story. “In front of a sold out arena. No idea what he even tripped on or anything, to this day.”

“Hey!” Harry interrupts. “There was a loose flap on the stage!” He defends.

“Buddy, I really don’t think there was, but keep telling people that if it makes you feel better.” Harry rolls his eyes at Niall.

“Ror, I’m ready!” Harry says as he walks towards the wardrobe cases. Aurora gets off the couch to help get him into the jumpsuit.

“Hey, Mully just messaged saying he was here,” Niall says to Harry. “I’m gonna go find him.” Harry and Niall hug for a moment, a few pats on the back, Niall wishing him good luck. Aurora smiles at the two. No love was lost between them. Though Aurora doesn’t know everything about what that time was like, she's grateful that behind all the rumors and drama Harry and Niall still get along like they did when they first met on the X Factor. She’s most grateful for the fact that Harry has someone who understands it all. Someone who can relate to him and someone to share those memories with. She’s supportive and understands what she can but she wasn’t there.

Harry’s band, Ayae and Helene follow Niall out the door leaving Aurora and Harry alone, just as it happens every night.

“Okay, here ya go,” Aurora says as she hands off the jump suit to Harry. He steps into the jumpsuit and pulls the sleeves up on his shoulders. He lets out a grunt when he goes to button it close. “What?” Aurora asks with a look of worry on her face.

“Uhm, fits a bit tighter than it did last,” Harry says slowly.

“Oh no…. Can you close it?”

“I mean, yeah, I think it’ll be fine, just not as roomy as it was for the Late Late Show.” Harry fastens the buttons up the front and adjusts the fabric in a few spots before he looks up to Aurora.

“Turn around for me,” she directs to inspect that it’s still okay to perform in. As he turns around Aurora’s jaw drops, “Oh.” The jumpsuit certainly fits tighter than it did last. “Uh, is it comfortable?” She stutters out.

“Uh yeah,” Harry moves around a bit. “Does it look okay?”

“Honest?”

“Well, yeah,” Harry says, slightly confused.

“So uh, it definitely fits tighter… but it looks really good.” It’s all that Aurora can say. Her brain actually cannot form anymore full sentences. It’s not that the jump suit looked bad when he wore it for the Kiwi performance on the Late Late Show almost a year ago, it’s just that it looks better than it did. Harry turns to Aurora to try to figure out what she’s thinking.

“What?” Harry asks when Aurora’s face is unreadable. He chuckles a little when her cheeks turn a light shade of pink under his gaze.

“Well your ass looks great.”

“Rory!” Harry yells, almost startled by the comment coming from her.

“What?! It’s the truth!” She says with a short laugh. “Let’s just say all those training sessions are doing their job.” Harry shakes his head, a small huff coming out of his mouth before a dimple inducing smile covers his face. He’s drawn towards Aurora and the look in her eyes. He can’t put his finger on it. When he gets his hands around her waist, instinctively he pulls her as close as she can get to him. Her hands grab on his shoulders and then slide down to his biceps. She lets out a small giggle as Harry presses his face into her neck, his lips landing on the soft skin below her ear. Aurora moves her hands to his chest to push him away from her to get him to stop tickling her neck with the soft touch of his lips. Pressing up to her toes, she kisses him square on the lips quickly before she pulls away from his hold. “Just don’t stop training.”

She pretends like nothing has happened and goes to grab Harry’s socks and shoes. She openly watches him as he puts them on. She follows him into the large, echoey bathroom as she always does. Hopping onto the counter she watches as he goes through his routine.

“So what’d you think of Niall?” Harry asks curiously, his face reads a hint of caution but also approval. Being the one member he has stayed in contact with the most, he’s hoping she likes him as much as he does. He’s also nervous. He’d be lying if he said the image of Aurora’s childhood bedroom with Niall’s face plastered on the walls wasn’t haunting his mind.

Aurora can see his brain churning as he asks the question and she smiles a little at the almost nervous look that is now on his face. “Crazy to meet him if I’m honest,” she shrugs. She sees Harry take a deep breath, his shoulders rising but not falling when he breathes out a shallow breath. “I’m glad you’ve kept in contact with him.” Aurora’s trying to direct the conversation to be about Niall and Harry not Niall and Aurora. She can tell he’s thinking too much. “Harry?” He hums at her as he finishes brushing his teeth. “You know, even though I had posters of Niall on my walls, I did take them down a long time ago. My mom found them in the back of my closet and they were there for a reason.” She sighs. He thinks too much and there’s reasons he thinks too much. She just doesn’t know why yet, but that conversation is for another day. “Babe,” at the pet name, Harry looks at her, “Niall wasn’t the one who took care of me when I burned my arm with a steamer. He doesn’t bring me coffee exactly how I like it or flirt with me by getting me new sneakers,” she laughs lightly. “He doesn’t make me laugh on a daily basis or know exactly when I could use a hug.” Now Aurora has hopped off the counter and is standing next to Harry, looking at him in the mirror. “He’s not you. He never will be no matter what. I may have had posters of him on my walls 4 years ago but that doesn’t matter anymore.” Aurora turns to face Harry and he follows her movement so they’re face to face now. She tucks a rogue curl back into place before continuing. “You’re all that matters, okay? I’m here, with you, yeah? Please stop thinking so much,” she pleads. Harry nods minutely. A small smile appears on his face, the cliche twinkle is back in his eye and he uses one hand to pull Aurora’s face to his, kissing her softly.

“You know I get in my head a lot,” Harry says quietly when they pull apart from each other. Aurora offers a small smile and sighs at him.

“I know, but you need to talk to me about it. Tell me when something isn’t sitting right, tell me anything. I can read you pretty well but I can only do so much.”

“Promise I’ll work on it as long as you promise me you’re a Harry girl now,” he mocks. Aurora groans as she pulls away from his hold.

“You know, you’re really good at ruining the moment?” She jokes as she walks back to the main part of the dressing room.

“You can’t deny you don’t adore it!” Harry yells back. She laughs and it echoes through both rooms and it makes Harry smile.

Aurora turns around when she hears him walk back through the door. There’s still a ghost of a smile on his face when he looks at her. She huffs, unable to form a thought when she goes to give the last look on his jumpsuit.

“What?” Harry questions, a sparkle in his eye.

“Nothing,” she brushes her thoughts away. Harry raises an eyebrow at her in question. “You look really good,” she admits with a shrug before turning away from him. She starts to pick up a few things to put away but Harry is quick to grab her waist and turn her around. She only sees the smile that’s covered his face for a moment before his lips are on hers.

| | | | |

Everyone has been spending the extra days off at the hotel’s private pool. They nap and read and just enjoy the time off. Harry and Aurora are sitting on a cushion covered wooden sectional that sits in the corner of the pool area covered by large yellow and white umbrellas. Regardless of the heat, Aurora snuggled into Harry’s side, his feet crossed at the ankle, propped up on the bench in front of them and his arm around her shoulders. He has one of his woven fedoras on and sunglasses covering his eyes. Aurora traces over the butterfly tattoo on his stomach, idly as he hums and rests his head on top of hers.

“This is nice,” he repeats for the hundredth time this afternoon. Aurora giggles in response. Harry turns his head and places a soft kiss to her hair. Harry starts humming again.

“Is that a new one?” Aurora asks.

“Ahhh not yet, just a little melody that’s been stuck in my head.”

“Are you writing for the next album?” She asks as she reaches for his cross necklace. Aurora fiddles with it between her thumb and pointer finger.

“Not purposefully. I’ll write whatever comes to me or record a voice note or something so I can use it later if I want. But not really thinking about the next album yet. I want to enjoy the tour and the first album more before I get into the next ” he shares, looking down at her.

“That makes sense. It seemed like it was always a quick turnaround for the band. Must be nice to enjoy it all and not have to think about the next thing when you’ve just started the first thing. ” She drops the necklace and her hand slides up the side of his neck and stops at his jawline. Aurora’s fingers trace lightly over the harshness of it.

“Yeah it’s been nice, more enjoyable” he smiles down at her. “Not that it wasn’t enjoyable-”

“Don’t have to explain yourself, I understand what you’re saying.” Aurora’s fingers don’t leave his jawline, only grip it harder to bring his face down to hers. His breath fans out across her face before his lips land on hers. She smiles when he pulls away for a brief moment. He mirrors her smile before going in to kiss her again. Between their smiles and the small giggles coming from both of them, they barely can connect their lips.

It’s when they’re laying in the same spot later, cold margaritas on the table nearby, the sun setting off in the distance when Aurora gets a glimpse of Harry that makes her heart swell. His face is soft as he enjoys the view. A tint of red covers the top of his cheeks and nose, the sun having made a mark. Everything feels so normal, so mundane. Three full days spent in the Australian sun has only made Aurora’s heart grow fonder of the curly headed boy that she’s tucked into. With nothing to do but enjoy each other’s company, laugh with their friends and soak up the sun, she’s had a lot of time to think about everything. She’s thought about how thankful she is that this is her life, that while working, this is the break she gets to take, that her job is to dress the man she’s falling in love with. She’s thought about that last part a lot. She’s not sure she’s falling in love with him so much as already fallen in love with him. She’s there. She fell and she fell hard and she’s there. She’s fallen so hard that a small glimpse of him in the light of the sunset is enough to make her want to give her whole self to him.

Aurora thinks about it the whole way back to the hotel room. Harry even asks why she’s so quiet. When she responds with “just thinking” he doesn’t stop the questioning there.

“Ror,” he whispers.

“What? You’re the only one who can think too much?” Aurora jokes as they walk into the elevator.

Harry sighs as a small smile ghosts his face, “what’re you thinking about, love?”

“Uhm, can I tell you once I’ve figured it out?”

Harry angles his body towards her so he can see her face completely. He pulls her closer to him with the hand that is at her waist. He kisses the top of her cheek then her temple. “Sure,” he says quietly, “just don’t go making up stories in that pretty little head of yours, okay?” Aurora nods.

Once they get back to the hotel room both of them take their turns to shower and get ready for bed. Aurora’s sitting on the bed, Harry’s rolling stone tshirt on and scrolling through her phone when Harry walks out of the bathroom.

“Did you call your mum?” he asks. Aurora mentioned that she wanted to when he hopped into the shower.

“Mom was asleep, but I called Leila,” Aurora explains.

“How is your sister?” He asks as he wrings out his hair with the towel one last time, tossing it back in the bathroom.

“Good…” she answers broadly, not totally focused on the conversation.

“Ror, you’re still thinking hard about something.”

“Yeah, no, I know. Promise I’m fine. Leila helped a bit.” Harry gives her a questioning look as he sits down on the bed with her. “I’m still trying to work it out in my head, okay?” He nods slowly at her. “We’re fine. I promise we are. Nothing to worry about,” she explains as she reaches for him. She’s endeared by the caring look in his eyes. He looks rested and calm and his skin has tanned a bit.

She pulls him into her rather than finding her spot tucked into his side. His hair is still damp and she knows if she touches it too much it’ll go all frizzy. So instead, she smoothes it down so it doesn’t tickle her neck too much. He willingly wraps his arms around her torso, his legs automatically finding her bare ones underneath the sheets and weaving with them. Subconsciously she starts to trace the ink that litters his arm.

“Ready for the show tomorrow?” Aurora asks after some silence.

“Yeah,” he answers slowly.

“Is it hard to go back to touringn after a small break?” She asks, curious. She always hated going back to school or work after long weekends or short trips. His job is different but it’s work, all the same.

“Uhm, it normally is a bit hard yeah, but feels a bit different now, this time.”

“What’d you mean by that?”

“It’s all a bit different now, used to be such a routine, go home for a few days or family and friends would come to me when I had a few days. It was always so hard when they left and I had to get back to work. Not that-”

“Not that you didn’t enjoy it,” Aurora finishes for him.

“I say that a lot, huh?”

“Don’t need to explain it to me, remember? I understand.” Harry sighs at Aurora’s words and lets his hand that's sitting on her hip find the hem of his t-shirt she’s wearing and slid underneath. He gives the skin at her hip a light squeeze before he lets the heat from his hand radiate on the skin there and rub circles into her flesh haphazardly.

“Right, well it was hard then cause I’d have to say goodbye and it was always for an unknown amount of time. I should’ve been going back to work well rested but I would stay up for hours in the night dreading having to leave or them leaving me.” Harry stops his movements and wraps his arms around Aurora tighter, his face burying itself in Aurora’s neck and breathing in the smell of her shampoo. He pulls his head away only for a moment to share the rest of his explanation. “But it’s different now because it’s my tour and it isn’t how it used to be and I’ve got you with me. And as long as you’re not planning on going anywhere I don't’ have to dread going back to work cause you’ll be there too.”

| | | | |

Aurora decides to watch from the mix tonight in Melbourne and by the time Harry makes his way to the Bstage she doesn’t regret the choice at all. Harry can spot her any night, but tonight is different. He catches a glimpse of her as he walks up the metal stairs, Mitch following not far behind. She still has on the black and white floral jacket. The one he wore years ago. The one he gave her, while sitting on the very stage he’s walking up. Only the stage was in an arena in a different continent. His smile mocked the glimmer of the gold foil on his suit and shined right up until the moment he focused on the next song.

“One, two, three, four,” he almost whispers into the mic. Mitch starts to play the guitar and Aurora’s heart swells when Harry starts singing ‘Sweet Creature.’

If anyone would ask Aurora what her favourite song of Harry’s is she’d probably end up listing the whole album. Right now though, her favourite is ‘Sweet Creature.’ If it were actually possible, his vocals would melt her heart into nothing. There’s something about it stripped down like this, it’s the most similar to how he sings when he’s on his own, when he’s with Aurora. It's the most similar to how he sounds when he’s in the shower or when he’s getting ready in the mornings. He’ll sing his current and old favourites and sometimes mess around with the melody of some of his own.

“You will bring me home,” he belts. “Sweet creature, sweet creature, when I run out of road,” he sings with his eyes closed, full heart and soul poured into each note. He lets the audience sing the next line. As Mitch’s guitar fills the speakers on its own and the audience screams louder, Aurora can tell Harry is trying to avoid turning in her direction but he can’t fight it. He turns his head to where she’s standing. She watches as his jaw softens. His eyes search the small section he knows Aurora’s standing in. When he finds her, a smile appears on his face. A dimple and the crinkles at his eyes follow the turn of his lips. His eyes twinkle. Maybe from the lights. Maybe it’s the result of the emotion of the song. Maybe it’s because he’s just seen the girl he’s in love with, singing along to his own song, in his old jacket with a look on her face that could be described as nothing short of absolute adoration.

He doesn’t linger long. He knows that he can’t stare at her from the stage forever and his cue is coming soon for the last line of the song.

“You will bring me home,” his voice sounds through the speakers, deep and clear. It rattles Aurora’s chest a bit.

Harry thanks Mitch and grabs his own guitar, now solo on the small stage. Even though Aurora can’t pick one favourite from Harry’s album she could give you at least her top 5 favourite One Direction songs. ‘If I Could Fly’ is without a doubt in the top 5. Aurora does think Harry’s version on his own is the best version of it. Every night she’s thoroughly entertained when Harry tries to quiet the audience before he asks them to sing the chorus for him. She can’t help but take on the smile that appears on his face when the entire audience is singing, in unison, the song he poured his heart into years ago.

As the song comes to an end and the opening of ‘Anna’ begins, Aurora’s eyes follow Harry as he walks down the stairs and back up the path that is littered with flowers and sparkles and signs and fans yelling his name. She sees the pile of flowers that sit on top of a crate at the edge of the mix near the bstage stairs and smiles. She can’t help but think how lucky she is to be standing here, wearing the Gucci jacket of dreams, getting to dress the rockstar that has just tossed his planet painted guitar over his chest and falling in love with him all at the same time.

| | | | |

The golden Calvin Klein suit is the last Aurora can take, she thinks. He screams sunshine in this. Just like that day in Amsterdam - so many things go back to that day in Amsterdam - the bright golden colour of the suit has the same effect that the yellow t-shirt did.

Aurora's tucked up in the corner of the couch in Harry’s dressing room. Harry is sitting in the chair in front of the vanity mirror, Ayae fixing his curls after Harry messed them up a few minutes ago. She can’t stop catching his eyes in the mirror and they both laugh quietly each time. When his hair is back in place and Harry thanks Ayae, he walks to where Aurora is on the couch. He raises an eyebrow up at her.

“You know,” Aurora starts, “there’s this thing,” she laughs nervously. “I don’t even know how to explain it. It’s gonna sound crazy, but you’re-you’re like,” she pauses before continuing, “sunshine. My own personal sunshine.” Harry tries to hide a smile as he places his hand on top of Aurora’s that is resting on her knee. He bends down and presses a kiss to the top of Aurora’s head.

“Don’t sound crazy to me, love. If I look like sunshine to you, then I'm your sunshine.”

Aurora pulls her hand out from underneath Harry's and grabs his face with both of them. She locks eyes with him for a short moment before pulling him down for a kiss.

| | | | |

Aurora and Helene are laughing while looking through the photos Helene took during the show tonight in Sydney. Some of the photos of Harry are quite entertaining to say the least.

“This one!” Aurora yells when Helene clicks to the next photo. “You have to post this one.” Helene laughs at Aurora’s eagerness. “It’s perfect.”

“Oh is it?” Helene pesters.

“His hair looks incredible. The lighting is perfect,” Aurora compliments. “And- and,” she stutters out, “he looks like sunshine.”

“You’re really in love with him, huh?” Helene asks with a newly serious tone. Aurora smiles at her before sighing.

“I mean, yeah,” she shrugs as if it’s not that scary. As if being in love with the world's biggest pop star isn’t something to be scared of. Like it’s not this terrifying idea, cause it’s not. At least not right at this moment.

He’s her sunshine and she’s in love.

| | | | |

“Do not tell me that was the sound of something ripping!” Aurora yells from across the large backstage space in Brisbane. She doesn’t dare to turn around to see the chaos that is happening surrounding the ping pong tables. She takes a deep breath as silence fills the room. Silence apart from Harry's laugh, that is.

“Oh, Rory,” Harry calls through fits of laughter.

When Aurora turns around her jaw drops and she has to force herself to take a deep breath so she doesn’t yell.

“15 minutes!” calls the stage manager. Aurora’s heart sinks before it starts to beat rapidly.

“Fucking hell,” she whispers to herself. “Take them off, I gotta fix ‘em,” she tells Harry as she reaches into her bag to find a needle and black thread.

“I’ll just put a different pair on. It’s fine,” Harry says as he walks towards Aurora.

“It’s not fine Harry. I’d have to steam another pair of pants, which will take more time than we have and anyways, we don’t have any other options. We only packed what was needed for the Australia shows.” Aurora is frustrated. 15 minutes before the show? Really?

“Oh,” is all Harry lets out as he slips out of the ripped pants.

“You just had to be doing trick shots right before the show, huh?” Aurora half laughs, half scolds as she sits down to stitch the rip up the inside of the leg of his pants.

“Sorry, Ror,” he offers as he begins to watch her get to work but his name is called back at the ping pong tables and he runs back to his game.

“Should probably put your shirt and jacket on at least!” Aurora calls after him, not looking up. “Won’t have a minute to spare once they're finished!” She doesn’t look up, too focused on the work at hand. It’s not till she hears the band and stage crew cheer not 2 minutes later that she looks up.

Harry’s standing at one end of the ping pong table with only his boxers and tall black socks on, a look of pride covering his face. The paddle outstretched in one hand and he’s taking in the cheers as he does on stage.

Now Aurora’s angry. Here she is doing her job, trying to fix the pants Harry has ripped almost the entire length of while Harry is off, still playing around, now 10 minutes till the show is supposed to begin.

“Rory!” he sings. “How’s my girl doing over here?”

“Not your girl right now,” she says shortly. She doesn’t look up to him. She just keeps focusing on weaving the thread in and out of the black fabric. She does see his feet stop in its place, just at the edge of her range of sight. Backstage begins to quiet down a bit.

Harry’s band gathers at the stage door ready to go when they're told to do so. There’s murmurs from the stage crew as they get everything ready. Aurora takes a deep breath to try and calm the shakiness in her hands.

“Ror, why’re you shaking?” Harry whispers. Aurora hears the click of Helene’s camera.

“Trying to fix your pants, less than 10 minutes till the show,” she answers quickly.

“I can go on stage late, it’s fine. Take your time, love.”

“Harry, please, I’m not your girl right now, I'm not ‘love’, I’m trying to do my job. Just let me fix these, I’ll call you when they’re ready. Now, go put on your tank and jacket, please.” Aurora isn’t messing around and Harry’s figured that out now.

“Yeah, okay,” he says solemnly. “Pushing start time by 10 minutes!” the stage manager announces instead of giving the 5 minute warning. “Officially, 15 minutes till new start time!

Although Aurora is angry with Harry for ripping his pants in the first place and now pushing back the show to accommodate her she relaxes a bit and her hands calm down.

A few minute pass and when she knots the final stitch she calls for Harry. Standing up from her spot she turns the pants right side out. When she finally looks away from the pants she sees Harry standing in front of her, the top half of his body much more covered than the bottom half.

“Thank you” he whispers to Aurora as he takes his pants from her. “I’m sorry,” he says as he buttons them close. When she meets his eyes she can’t help but smile softly at him. She sighs heavily, weaving the needle that’s still in her hand on the shoulder of her shirt, just like her mom always does.

“Out of all the suits to rip before the show it was the simple black Givency one. Really?” Aurora messes with the collar of his jacket quickly, pulling it so it sits evenly on his shoulders. “Gotta respect me when I’m working okay? I’m here to be your ‘Head of Wardrobe’ first.” Harry nods, understanding. “I know the line is blurry, but when I’m trying to fix your clothes in a timely manner and you’re acting like a spoiled rockstar, you gotta check yourself. I’ll be your girlfriend after the show and we can laugh about how you ripped the entire inside seam of your pants then. Right now, though, I’m annoyed and a little angry. You shouldn’t have been playing ping pong like that in your suit in the first place, but I am not your mother, so, yeah.” Aurora shakes her head.

“I’m sorry,” Harry offers again.

“Thank you, but it’s fine. We’ll figure this out eventually,’ Aurora shrugs. “You’re all set. Good luck,” she says as she pushes him towards the stage door.

“Be my girl for a minute?” Aurora’s eyebrows furrow at the question. “Just want a good luck kiss,” he explains.

“Hasn’t stopped you before,” Aurora says challengingly.

“You’re not making the line any clearer,” he challenges back.

“Shut up and let me kiss you,” Aurora states as she grabs his face in both of her hands. His hands find a grip on her waist before dipping his head down and meeting their lips lightly. He lets one hand drop, the other smoothing around her waist so he can hold her whole body with the one. He presses another kiss to her lips before he pulls away. He grabs her waist tightly once more and presses a kiss to her cheek.

She watches as the sound manager sets up his in-ear and weaves it through the back of his jacket. Harry adjusts the cords and the piece in his ear quickly and spares a last look at Aurora who’s standing where he left her, arms now crossed against her chest, smiling back at him. He mirrors her bright smile for a quick moment before turning around and disappearing through the doors.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #sequins & zippers #aurora on tour #harry styles fanfiction #one direction imagine

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allsassnoclass · 4 years

Text

here’s a hand my trusted friends

Ficmas Day 7

Pairing: platonic One Direction ot4

Rating: General Audiences

Key Tag(s): New Year’s Eve, Hiatus

Word Count: 1909

Read on AO3

—

Liam invites the boys to spend New Year's Eve with him in a cabin in Canada.

—

Liam arrives at the house before anyone else, key unfamiliar in his hand and nearly swallowed by his gloves. It’s a cabin in Canada, somewhere rural enough that they can exist without being discovered and hounded, chosen specifically to give them a bit of peace tonight. The front yard is covered in a thick sheet of snow, smooth and undisturbed by footprints, and he grabs the railing by the stairs to ensure that he won’t slip on his way to the front door, kicking off as much snow as possible from his boots so he doesn’t track it inside.

The house is a bit cold and drafty, so he goes around turning on the heat and double-checking that all four of the bedrooms are clean as promised and that the fridge and cupboards are stocked with the food he ordered. The entire place is furnished in the welcoming but impersonal way that every temporary lodging is, from hotel rooms to vacation mansions, and he almost mourns that they won’t be here long enough to put their mark on it. Getting a fire started in the fireplace warms the atmosphere a bit, and once the other boys get here there will be other things to focus on.

He hopes it’ll be easy. The idea of seeing the boys again for the first time in a year hadn’t made him nervous yesterday, but the closer he gets to everyone’s arrival, the more anxiety gathers in his gut.

He misses them. He wants to spend time with them and give them each a hug and feel like they’re brothers again. They’re not really getting the band back together, because it’s not time yet, but they’re figuratively getting the band back together.

To go from seeing the boys almost constantly for five years to barely seeing them at all over the past year was an adjustment. You don’t notice the changes when you’re with someone all the time. He’s not ready to see how drastically different they all might have become when he wasn’t looking. He doesn’t want to look at them and not recognize every inch.

The doorbell launches him out of his thoughts and towards the door. He checks the peephole before opening, a habit he’s been in since fame began breeding unwelcome visitors, then wretches open the door to let Louis in from the cold.

“Hey, Payno,” Louis says, and the sound of his voice, unfiltered by phone lines or video chats, is enough to make something out of place inside Liam realign again.

“Louis!” he greets, pulling him into a hug before taking his bag so he can shed his coat and hat.

“Bloody cold out there, isn’t it?” Louis says, tucking his arms around himself. “Anyone else here yet?”

“Just you,” Liam says. “Means you get to pick your room first.”

Louis nods. Liam has missed the familiar way he presses his lips together in a smile when he’s pleased about something. It makes him feel warm to see that face now.

Niall arrives next, after Liam has given Louis a tour of the house and already been given shit for his food choices. Niall automatically brings a joy and brightness with him wherever he goes, even if his hair is no longer bleached blond and instead growing out in his natural brown. His laugh is the same, though, a welcome sound when he gets into it with Louis.

Harry is last, uncharacteristically late with an apologetic excuse about road conditions and a delayed flight. He collects hugs from all of them and gracefully accepts the last and least desirable room, saying that it’s charming. It doesn’t really matter, because all of them will only be here for a night, anyway.

Liam had invited Zayn as well, but he said he wasn’t ready yet. When Zayn left, he left, isolating himself until he felt like he could breathe again. Liam has been trying to convince him that seeing the boys again without the hustle and bustle and strict confines of the band won’t be suffocating, but it’s no use. Zayn isn’t ready, but Liam will be here when he is. Hopefully the other boys will be, too.

They have a large and messy dinner, all four of them trying to contribute to the cooking in a way that creates more chaos than help. Harry spends a lot of time threatening to hit Louis with a spoon if he continues being a nuisance while Niall sneaks bites of ingredients behind his back, sharing a wink with Liam when caught. It’s edible, at least, and they fall into a comfortable pattern of conversation. The cadence of their voices is familiar, one more thing that Liam knows he shouldn’t have worried about being different since they were last together. If there’s one thing he’ll never forget, it’s the sound of each of their voices.

Washing up after takes no time at all with all four of them helping, the kitchen just as spotless as they found it by the time they move into the front room to sit by the fire. Niall tends to it, getting it roaring again while they sit in the dim light on lumpy furniture with various beverages of choice.

“Any New Year’s resolutions?” Liam asks.

“I don’t know,” Niall says. “I haven’t made resolutions in a long time.”

There should be more to add, but none of them do. Thinking back, Liam hasn’t really made resolutions in a long time, either. Once they formed the band, everything was a whirlwind, and sometimes it felt like they had no agency or control, brought along for the ride only because they had their seatbelts on. They kept reaching for new heights, ones Liam would never have fathomed making goals for, and once you get that high it becomes difficult to find something else to reach for. When you overshoot the moon, where can you go before you forget what Earth looked like?

Last year, Liam’s resolution had been to survive.

“Probably spend more time with the family, like always,” Louis says eventually, when the silence has stretched like taffy and comes too close to snapping. “Maybe work on more creative projects again.”

Liam nods.

“I think,” Harry says slowly, “I want to come out. Well, no, that’s not right. I want to feel like I don’t have to hide.”

He looks around at all of them, and Liam hopes he can see the support there. It’s always been difficult for Harry to feel like he had to stifle that part of him, but they always backed him one hundred percent. It was never the members of the band that were the issue.

“I hope you can do that,” Louis says, reaching over to squeeze Harry’s knee.

“Yeah, you deserve it,” Liam agrees. Niall pats him on the back, prompting Harry to smile, a small thing that grows until it takes over his face.

“What about you, Liam?” Harry asks. “What are your resolutions?”

“Dunno,” he says. “I just want to live better, I think. There’s always something that can be improved.”

Ensure that I see you guys again feels too personal. It’s funny: once they stopped being forced to hang out with each other at every waking moment, all of them forgot how. If any of them had said no to spending New Year’s Eve together, Liam isn’t sure if he could’ve maintained hope in their friendship. He doesn’t know when he would see any of them next if each of them hadn’t sighed in relief at his phone call.

The band will not be getting back together this year. The eighteen month hiatus won’t stick to its timeline. None of them wanted to put the band on hold, but all of them needed it, and Liam knows that they haven’t fully recovered yet. He doesn’t know when they will.

Zayn still won’t see them in person two years later. They all move at their own pace, but it’s become clear that it’s a pace much slower than all of them anticipated.

When it nears midnight, Liam suggests that they bundle up and watch the fireworks from outside. Although the nearby town is small, Liam has been assured that their New Year’s fireworks display is visible from the house, best seen in the backyard. Everyone gets on coats and boots with minimal complaining, staining the flat expanse of snow with their footprints. The back light is bright, illuminating up until the treeline of the small forest at the back of the property.

“We should go exploring,” Harry says.

“Yeah, if you want to get eaten by a bear,” Niall says, sounding scandalized. “Do you know how dangerous tramping around an unfamiliar forest at night is?”

“You should be more worried about nearby dangers,” Louis says. That’s all the warning any of them get before Niall is hit in the face with a snowball. He rears back, sputtering.

“Louis!” Harry scolds, but he’s not the next target. Louis sets his sights on Liam, another snowball already being packed together in his hands.

“If you do this, you’re declaring war,” Liam warns. “And I’ve got a good throwing arm.”

It’s no use. Louis has the same look on his face that has meant trouble for the past six years, so Liam ducks for cover. What follows is a snowball fight the likes of which he hasn’t seen since the early days of the band. Niall joins him in his crusade against Louis, and Harry flounders in an attempt to remain neutral until a stray snowball thrown by Liam hits him.

(His throwing arm may be powerful, but he never claimed it was especially accurate.)

Casualties are many on both sides. Niall complains about snow in his shoes. Louis is too fast to make an easy target, so Harry takes a lot of hits. Louis’s attacks become increasingly fiercer every time he takes damage. Liam runs around the yard and scoops up snow to fling around, feeling more like a kid than he has in a long time. He’s only 23, but he’s been wrangling everyone around him and trying to be the mature one since the X-Factor house. It feels especially freeing to participate in something as juvenile as a snowball fight when he knows that there are no other responsibilities waiting for him.

The fight eventually ends when Harry manages to stuff snow down the back of Liam’s jacket. He’s not proud of the way he shrieks, but he thinks it’s justified, even if the others laugh at him.

The first firework goes off a moment later, gold sparks lighting the sky.

“Lads,” Niall says, pointing up as explosion after explosion paint the night in fleeting and colorful hues.

“Happy New Year!” Liam yells.

“Happy 2017!”

They whoop and laugh, Niall breaking into a rendition of “Auld Lang Syne” that the rest of them mess up the words to. Harry links their arms together, reaching out to invite everyone into contact, and all of them stand on the lawn, eyes drawn upwards, singing out of tune about old friends.

Liam has been to some amazing parties over the years. None of them can compare to this moment and the easy knowledge that he’ll have infinite more with these boys by his side in the future. Even when they’re not in a band, there still is something drawing all of them together, and none of them will let that go.

#my writing #one direction #one direction fanfiction #one direction ot4 #ficmas 2020 #once I figured out this was a new year's eve fic it got significantly easier to write lol #and it's still before midnight for me!#still before midnight for the east coast too

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edgeofmyniall · 5 years

Text

the one with the dog

or the one where the twins meet daisy for the first time

Rachel’s heart was going to jump out of her chest.

For a cool October morning, Rachel was sweating. It was only a few more days until the Halloween festival, and yet still, Niall and her had not come up with any costume ideas. The idea was fustrating. Rachel planned. Thats what she did. That was her thing, but being with Niall who flew by the seat of his pants warranted Rachel to feel anxious.

It wasn’t due to being with someone older or someone who had kids- even if they were her students. No, being around Niall made her heart go into her mouth. She had never felt like this before. Everything in Rachel’s world had it’s place and in it’s place everything stayed. Until Niall came along and tore her world wide open.

He was havoc. He planned the important things, but the fact that picking out a costume for the town’s festival was not a big thing for him made Rachel uneasy with nerves. And the only way for her to calm her nerves was to run.

And run she did. She grabbed Daisy’s leash and began to run down her street. She had a destination in mind, but she told Google Maps to take the longest way possible to get there. Her feet pounded against the pavement as she huffed out air- the cold carbon dioxide fogged up and whisped away. And despite only wearing grey yoga pants and a t-shirt, Rachel was burning up outside in the cold air.

She turned left, headed for downtown. Daisy kept up with her owner- her paws hitting the pavement in rhythm. Since they had moved here, Daisy and Rachel run every once in a while. Daisy could tell when Rachel needed to run. She would walk back and forth for a while in the same place or she would begin to move things around. But the sure sign that Daisy knew they were going for a run was when Rachel couldn’t stop talking to herself.

Rachel would tell herself that there was nothing to worry about, and insist that she was over analyzing things. But this morning, Rachel pulled her hair up into a ponytail and tied her running shoes on. There was something to worry about.

Rachel stopped at the crossroad light that flashed a stop hand. She was catching her breath. Daisy was hassling, but the burning feeling in Rachel’s legs numbed the thoughts running through her head. As she inhaled, her worries disappeared. It was just her and Daisy- nothing to worry about.

Until there was something that made her chest cave in.

She heard the deep familiar laugh of someone close to her. The trio rounded the corner when Rachel came to a stop. She turned her head to look at the familiar sound and there they were. The three of them laughing away. Mags locked her arm in with Niall’s and Mack held onto his phone as if it had been super glued to his hands. Niall looked up and saw the messy blonde tendrils escaping the ponytail, and his heart leapt. How could it not? She was beautiful even in running pants and a t-shirt.

“Ms. Miles?” Mags had stared in disbelief that her teacher was standing in front of her. Daisy’s tag immediately started wagging. She saw a familiar face, a friend. She began to pull on her leash to get to Niall. “Hey Daisy.”

Niall bent over to pet the dog and he egged his children to do so. “Come on, she’s a sweetheart. The only thing she’ll do is lick you to death.” Mags petted Daisy on the head, and Daisy jumped on Mags’ leg trying to snuggle up with her new friend. “She’s so sweet.”

“Wait, how do you know she’s sweet, Dad?” Mack looks up from his phone. Niall looks up to Rachel and both form a tight line in their smile. He hadn’t told them quite about going over to Rachel’s house. “I uh, met Daisy when I went on a date with Rachel.” Niall winked at his person.

“Well you should totally bring her over for game night!” Mags squealed as Daisy began to lick her face.

“I sure will. What are you guys doing?”

“Just shopping. Wanna join?” Niall asked, but Rachel’s response was holding up the leash. Niall nodded and gave Rachel a quick little hug, and he felt his children staring at the two of them. “See you late then.” The crosswalk turned and Rachel began to run again, feeling as if her heart could fall out of her chest.

#niall #niall horan #niall au #niall horan au #niall imagine #niall horan imagine #niall one shot #niall horan one shot #the tide #tide extras

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 6 years

Text

Part IV - The Untimely Downfall of Strangers

THEN - Day 1125

I walked into Harry’s dressing room to find Liam and Niall on the couch. Harry--with a smile on his face--stood from the chair in which he sat to give me a hug.

They looked at me like I was fragile, like I had a crack in me that threatened to spread any second. Niall and Liam knew, they knew about my breakdowns, my crying, my shaking, my intense and intolerable fear and sadness that seemed to drown me like a tidal wave.

They knew--that’s why they looked at me with hesitant smiles and wide eyes, waiting to see what would happen next.

“Hi, love,” Harry let go of me, even his hugs were lighter and more gentle now, as if any sudden movement would break me.

“Hi,” I said quietly. “What are you guys up to?”

I’d been on the road for a few days with them--a quick visit before getting back to my own tour--and nothing felt the same. They were quiet, cautious, nervous. I was sad, empty, and alone. We all knew.

“Just hanging out,” Niall said. “Chattin’.”

I wondered if what he really meant was ‘chattin’ about you.’ I smiled and sat at on the edge of the coffee table in front of them. “When are y’all gonna go get dinner?”

Harry shrugged--I think he was trying pretend that everything was normal. “Probably soon--are you hungry? Do you want to go now?”

His questions annoyed me--I didn’t need him to monitor my intake or make sure I was maintaining regular daily tasks. “I’m fine,” I spit out the words without much brain power--after all, it was my go to phrase.

“We can go now, if you want,” Liam stood from the couch and nodded enthusiastically. “I could eat. I think there’s lasagna.”

I looked up as Niall stood to mirror his position. “Yeah,” he said, running a hand through his blonde hair. “I can always eat.”

“Let’s go then,” Harry nodded at them, still seemingly calm in the middle of a storm.

“Alright, yeah,” Liam agreed.

“I don’t fucking want to eat right now,” I said suddenly, annoyed at their constant chatter and nervousness and the tension in the air that felt like it was wrapping itself around my neck. They all stilled, staring at me quietly to wait and see my reaction. “I’m fine. I just--I don’t want to eat.”

I took a deep breath.

“Yeah, uh, alright, that’s fine,” Harry nodded, he sat back down in the chair he’d been in, which seemingly gave Niall and Liam permission to sit a well. I bit at my lip--I hadn’t met to explode, but their questions and their voices seemed to be piling up and I knew it was going to happen.

“Sorry,” I said quietly, almost so quiet they couldn’t hear me.

“It’s fine, love. We can go when you’re ready.”

NOW - Day 1703

Harry had sat in my kitchen and drank his tea. As soon as he left, I had went upstairs and found my guitar. I suddenly had that feeling that words and music and colors were pouring out of me. I was filled with guilt and regret and anger.

The opening piano played in my headphones now as Nathan watched on from behind the glass. The song I was recording was a bit of a mess--it had started on guitar one afternoon last fall when I had swam out by the red buoy that seemed to bob above the highest waves. For a second, there, in the ocean, feeling alone didn’t feel so bad.

I never knew how to finish it--I didn’t have much of a verse or bridge, at least until I saw Harry.

“You never told me why you had to leave, I always thought that you’d come back for me. I’m tired of getting people’s sympathy, I knew I’d make it back eventually,” I sang into the microphone, trying my best to hit the different notes and be mindful of my diction in front of the pop screen.

But I was spinning in the void, I was lost and paranoid and I’m missing you now.

I didn’t know if I was going to do counter release. I didn’t want to compete with Harry--I didn’t want to release an album right away and try to give my side of the story. His album was good, that was a fact. Whether or not it painted me in a good light, it didn’t feel fair to release my own music in the midst of his.

But I had a story, too--I had my version of what happened and how I felt and he didn’t show that in his album, understandably.

I heard my voice crack a little and Nathan soon paused the track--I could hear his voice through my headphones. “It sounds good, let’s go in from the first chorus.”

“Hey, Nathan,” I called, my voice quiet over the feed. He looked up from the board and nodded for me to continue. “Do you think it’s a bad idea to do this?”

He cocked his head to the side. “To record these songs?”

I nodded.

“No,” he said thoughtfully, pausing before he continued. “I think this is your story of the last year and a half. I think people have been waiting to hear it.”

He was right--most of these songs were written before we broke up, a lot of them were written that summer when I was waiting for the world as I knew it to cave in. Some of them were written over the break. All of them described my experience.

“I don’t want to release it right now. I think Harry needs to have his moment.”

Nathan turned around to Sinead, prompting her to reassure me. She was sat on the couch behind him, but she stood to come up to the microphone that connected their voices to my headphones. “We’ll talk to Nick, I can ask him to come by your house later.”

I nodded--I didn’t know what I wanted, I didn’t know what to do. All I knew was that if Harry got to tell his story, then I got to tell mine.

THEN - Day 1172

They didn’t even let me last until after Thanksgiving. So now, instead of having turkey and mashed potatoes with Maya and Ben, I was sitting in a small office in some administrative building in the middle of the Tennessee woods.

Sinead and Nick were on either side of me. Nick had his phone in his hand, he was responding to an email. A statement needed to be made, after all--the hustle never stopped.

Sinead was bouncing her leg up and down, her hands clasped on her lap as the woman in front of us typed at her computer for a second.

“We do have a bed, we can arrange for a single room so you don’t have a roommate, for privacy.”

“That would be great,” Nick looked up and smiled at her.

I felt like a child. I felt like they were my parents and they were sending me off to boarding school. I knew they were right--I knew my mom was right. I knew Harry was right. They wanted it to be my choice, at least that’s what they said three weeks ago.

Here I was--just like they wanted. Nick and Sinead and I had flown on a private jet to the middle of nowhere, a cushy feelings resort with an intake woman named Kayley. She looked somewhat starstruck.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, most likely, with more of her things,” Sinead informed the woman. “This was kind of a last minute ordeal.”

Last minute ordeal. If by last minute, she meant ‘Margot’s boyfriend finally convinced her she was fucked up enough to come here,’ then sure.

Kayley stood from her desk. “Sure, that’s fine. I can let her house manager know and we can arrange to get it to her.”

Nick and Sinead both stood as well, apparently we were done here. I pushed myself up, every bone in my body ached with sadness, but I forced an appreciative smile as Kayley motioned for us to step back into the waiting room.

“Pam, here, can bring you to your room. You’ll be in the East Wing. I think you’ll find your room to be quite comfortable.”

She acted like a receptionist at a hotel--I hadn’t really dealt with one of those in a while, but my stint in rehab didn’t feel as accommodating so far. I turned to Sinead and Nick, offering a small smile.

I was nervous--perhaps as bad as the morning before the Grammys. I felt like I could vomit and scream and cry all at once--it felt like everything would be okay if I could just press pause and make the world stop turning for a second. Sinead looked like she was going to cry, she blinked a few times and Nick opened his arms to hug me. “You’re gonna be okay. You’ve got this. Sinead will be back tomorrow. Your mom said she’ll come next week.”

I nodded--I didn’t really have anything to say in response. Nick let go of me, and Sinead stepped forward to mimic our embrace. “Be good, okay? Don’t be too much of an asshole,” she laughed.

I let out a sigh, the feeling of her arms around me made me suddenly emotional. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

“It’s okay,” Sinead said quickly. “It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”

Pam, an older woman with blonde hair, led me out of that building and into another. She showed me my room--light grey walls and fancy pillows on a queen bed. Nick wasn’t kidding when he said this place was nice.

I had a shared bathroom with a woman next door--her eyes went wide as she recognized my face in the hallway. I gave her a wave and bit at my lower lip. I could see the headlines now.

I didn’t know what this would entail, but if it meant I wouldn’t be so miserable, I figured it was worth a shot. I just hoped it worked.

THEN - Day 1528

The last place I expected to see him was in the hallway that led to Nick’s office. It had been a while since I’d seen Nick--I figured I’d stop by while I was downtown with Sinead. We could talk about my plan, which was to keep doing the same thing.

I wasn’t ready yet. I wasn’t ready for anything. I’d been home from treatment for a year--I was doing well enough. I had a therapist here, in Malibu, I had a prescription, I had my family. I was painting and swimming and every once in a while I played a G chord on the piano just to make sure it didn’t feel neglected.

Nick’s office was in a big building on Selma Avenue, only a block or two from Capitol Records. Sinead followed behind me down the hallway--I figured it would be good for her to tag along. After all, I was still paying the same salary she’d had in 2013, I figured she could work at least one day a week.

A door opened down the hall and a group of people emerged--two men were in the front, one was shorter and wore glasses with black frames. The other was a face I’d recognize anywhere.

His hair was short--I’d seen something on TV about the fact that he’d cut it, but I’d quickly changed the channel. His eyes were still green, his smile was still cheeky, his eyes still crinkled a bit at the sides. The man by his side was talking--something about an audition and sending a tape.

I almost froze, but Sinead walking into my back forced me to keep stepping forward. Left foot, right foot. He hadn’t seen me--his eyes were on the ground as he listened intently to the man with glasses. A woman stood behind them on the phone, another had sunglasses on, and a man in all black followed behind the rest of them.

We got closer--he could sense that they weren’t alone--and he looked up. His eyes met mine for a second, but the entire group kept moving. Sinead’s eyes were wide when they passed--I couldn’t help but follow them down the hall with my gaze--the back of his head faded out into the parking lot.

When we got to Nick’s door, Sinead grabbed my shoulder and watched me intently. “Do you need a second?”

I shook my head, forcing down whatever emotion was bubbling in my chest. “No. I’m fine.”

THEN - Day 1530

I hadn’t written much. I’d written maybe seven songs in treatment--hours of therapy and milieu time made my creativity amp up, apparently. Sinead was downstairs, I didn’t want her to hear me.

If I wasn’t writing with someone, I was pretty self conscious about anyone hearing me write. Songs normally started as three or four words, just a chord or two and an idea. It took some time for them to morph into a verse and a chorus and a melody. This was still new, or at least, it felt new.

That’s how long it had been.

I had no idea what I wanted to say, which was typical. Most times I sat down and just sang whatever came out, sometimes it made sense, sometimes it didn’t. I played a B minor.

“I don’t have to mention that I saw you today, cause I shone the sun into your eyes.”

I needed an E in there, I needed it to descend. I felt an angst in me that was familiar, but I didn’t know how to channel it onto the keys. I felt like he was a stranger, someone that I didn’t know--someone who had witnessed my downfall and then didn’t have anything to say.

Would he have acknowledged me if all of those people weren’t around? Would he have asked how I was if we weren’t separated by a wall of people with questions and orders and timelines? I felt like he’d looked right through me.

But I also knew I loved him. That had never stopped.

“When the flood is over and when the love is pouring out, I wanna be the one to light up the dark in you.”

NOW - Day 1704

I was laying on the beach when my phone rang. My house had been more quiet than usual this morning--my coffee was strong and the sky was clearing as the clock ticked closer to 11am. The sand that grew from my rocky backyard to meet the ocean was smooth--there was no public access to worry about.

Nick’s name flashed on my screen and my stomach sank. I answered it, only muttering a ‘hi’ in response to his silence.

“Morning,” his voice was steady. “I just got off the phone with Claire--do you have a minute?”

I sat up on the towel I was on and rubbed at my eyes. Claire was the head of my PR team. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“People and Us Weekly have reached out for comments about the single--Sweet Creature? Is that what’s it called?”

“Yeah,” I confirmed. “What did they say?”

“They just want to know if it’s about you and what you think about the upcoming album. Tomorrow’s the day, right?”

“Yeah, but I don’t have anything to say. I’m not engaging in the circus. I’m not doing that.” I think Nick knew that would be my answer, but it was still his job to check. I wondered if he thought I was crazy for even listening to the songs in the first place--I knew Sinead had probably told him all about the album.

“Okay, yeah,” he said on the line. I waved a hand near a bird that had landed on the sand to shoo it away. “We don’t have to say anything. But--I mean, when the album’s out, a lot of people are going to be asking.”

“Well what am I supposed to say? Yeah, I’m sure some of these songs are about me. I’m the asshole who broke Harry Styles’ heart?”

“No,” he sounded annoyed now. “That’s now what I’m saying. I just think you should talk with Claire about your options.”

“Fine--send her over. I’ll order lunch.”

THEN - Day 1114

There wasn’t a question in my mind that Harry loved me. There wasn’t a doubt that he cared about me. But for some reason, his love didn’t feel like enough. I felt like I was stuck on a rollercoaster that only got five feet off the ground, or trying to dig a hole in concrete.

I wasn’t sure what it was--I knew he was doing everything right--but I knew that it wasn’t working.

The truth was that he could love me all he wanted, he could hold me when I cried and when I couldn’t move, he could run a hand through my hair and ask me what I needed--but what I needed couldn’t come from him.

I was in a shower--a big, empty stadium shower. I was sat on the floor with a guitar, one I’d stolen from Niall. I felt the familiar wave of emotions that threatened to spill out, and I figured if I had a guitar in front of me, it’d be safer, more contained.

“I think I think too much, I think we know too much. Every time I’m pushing past and look right in,” my voice echoed off the tile and swirled down the drain. The guitar sounded good--the strings felt smooth beneath my fingers but I felt tears in my eyes.

I didn’t want to feel the way I felt--I didn’t like being so miserable. I wanted to be okay, I wanted Harry to be happy, I wanted me to be happy. But I knew I couldn’t be.

The thought of leaving Harry had been swirling in my head all summer, but here, in the empty shower with the echoes of my own sadness bouncing back to me, I knew I needed to.

“Give me a reason to let you go, cause I am drowning in your shallow heart. Give me a reason won’t you let me know, this heart of mine is sinking like a stone. Shallow love let me go, shallow love let me go.”

Sometimes, when I felt this much emotion, the words poured out easily--I’d write a song in seven minutes because I think if I didn’t, my world would collapse.

“Maybe I’m wasting time, my emotions paralyze, and I don’t even hear you when you’re crying out loud.”

I heard the door open, noises from the hallway started to seep in. “Margot? S’that you?” Niall’s voice sounded from around the corner.

“In here,” I called, waiting for him to find me on the floor. I wiped at my face to erase any emotion that was noticeable. He poked a head around the shower wall, a smile on his face when he saw a guitar.

“What’ya up to?”

I took a breath and stood, pushing the guitar to hang by it’s strap by my side. “Just writing. Did Harry send you?”

He liked to do that--send someone to find me when I disappeared.

He shook his head. “Nope, I was just lookin’ for ya. Thought I heard your voice.”

I nodded, “you did.”

THEN - Day 953

I stared at him in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’re being so selfish.”

He rolled his eyes at this--it was his least favorite insult. I think he always prided himself on being sweet and kind, but now I was just angry and he was just being selfish.

“Margot, I told you about this three weeks ago. I told you that I couldn’t get out of it.”

He was seated at his kitchen counter--a white slab of granite held his bowl of cereal. We’d overslept. He had a video shoot to get to and I had rehearsal for a talk show. The sky was grey outside of his window, but the tension in my chest is what really sent me over the edge.

This summer was sure to be hard. Harry’s band had been going full steam ahead. So much so that they felt it was time for a break, a pause, a refresher. I think it scared him--the prospect of not really knowing what was next, but I knew it also excited him. He was more than just the face of a boyband, we all knew that.

Sometimes he’d get quiet and ask me if I still loved him without all of the fans, the songs, the music. I told him I would.

That’s not what worried me, though. What worried me was the way he talked about our relationship as if it were a business deal, a merger between two companies who could stand to make a dime off of each other.

“Well if you told me when I was at rehearsal that doesn’t count.”

He sighed again, this time letting his spoon clank into the bowl. He looked up at me, anger on his face. “I fucking told you when we were going to the airport. Sinead was there--didn’t she write it down for you?”

“Sinead doesn’t write down everything that comes out of your mouth, you know. Believe it or not some people in the world aren’t obsessed with you.”

He scoffed at this. He stood from his stool and picked up his bowl, walking over to the sink and placing it down. His white t-shirt was somewhat see through, his surplus of tattoos were visible beneath the fabric. His hair was up in a bun, he needed to leave soon.

“You’re being so difficult. Could you not just be difficult for once?”

“How is wanting you to take my birthday off difficult? Isn’t that what boyfriends are supposed to do? Why is it always all my fault?”

“It’s not always your fault.”

“You sure act like it,” I crossed my arms, waiting for him to respond.

“Margot, I don’t make the rules. We’re booked. I’m sorry. We’ll do something for your birthday, I promise.”

“Don’t bother,” I waved him off. He let out a groan and raised his hands towards the ceiling in exasperation. He started to walk towards the stairs. “Just do that thing you always do when you fuck up--send me roses with some note written in someone else’s handwriting because you’re just so busy.”

He didn’t respond now--I was yelling at his back as he climbed the stairs. I followed behind him.

“Fine, Harry. I’m difficult. I’m difficult and you’re selfish because you can’t say no to people and you’re too concerned with what everyone else thinks than you are with what I think. And as far as I’m concerned that’s selfish.”

He turned around quickly when he reached the stop step--his sudden movement caused me to jerk back, balancing myself with a hand on the railing.

“Alright, Margot, fine. I’m selfish. I’m selfish and a jerk and you’re perfect. You’re Margot Jones and you never do anything wrong.”

“Oh fuck you, Harry.”

“Yeah,” he laughed, his eyes cold and distant. “Fuck me.”

THEN - Day 1180

I waited 19 days for him to call, but he never did. I spoke with Niall, and Liam called, too. Even Zayn had texted Ben to say he was thinking of me. I guess he didn’t care.

I guess he didn’t care that I was here--alone in the middle of the woods--and I guess he didn’t care that I was irreparably damaged. He did a hell of a good job pretending.

I stared past Rita’s shoulder and tried to count the trees that were blurring together. “What feeling comes up when you think about that?”

“About the fact that he hasn’t called?” I asked. She nodded and passed me the box of tissues that sat on the table between us. “That I’m unlovable. That my brain is too fucked up and that it’s all been too much for him.”

“I asked what you feel,” she laughed a little, watching me with gentle eyes.

I shifted on the couch and brought my knees up to my chest. “Like I don’t want to be in my body.”

“That’s the feeling--the one that you hate so much,” she said. I couldn’t tell if she was asking or confirming. I nodded. “Does that feeling last long?”

I shrugged. Rita’s office was dark, it was sunny outside, the natural light was enough to light the sofa and the armchair and the desk in the corner. I could see the pasture where they kept the horses--I wondered what it was like right now in New York, in London, in L.A. Surely it was livelier than here.

“Sometimes it lasts long, sometimes it goes away. When I force myself to do something or when I have an obligation.”

“What kind of obligation?” She asked.

“A show, or an interview, or just anything with someone who shouldn’t see me upset and paralyzed.”

She nodded, her gaze was still thoughtful but I could tell she was thinking something.

“I know it’s not convenient for anyone--I mean, I feel like Harry was always so bothered by it. But it’s not like it is convenient for me.”

“How do you know he was bothered by it?”

Another shrug as I watched a horse trot towards a fence. “He’d seem so exhausted--like he just couldn’t stand me anymore.”

“And you perceived it as that--that he couldn’t stand you?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not like he enjoyed the fact that I was always in such a shit mood and so anxious.”

She laughed a little, her blonde hair reflected the light that came in through the window. I crumpled the tissue in my hands and tossed it to the floor.

“Did you ask him how it made him feel?”

I looked up at her suddenly. Ask him? No, I didn’t pause my panic attacks to ask him how he felt. “No.”

“Then how do you know he couldn’t stand you?”

NOW - Day 1704

I sat on the deck with Nick, Sinead, and Claire--who scooped some salad and a piece of flatbread onto her plate. Sinead had picked up the lunch order I’d called in to a restaurant downtown.

“So, Claire, has it just been People and Us Weekly who’ve reached out?” Nick asked, taking the tongs from her to serve himself.

“No,” she shook her head slightly. I watched as she reached for a fork that I’d brought out from the kitchen, her short blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail. “There were a few other requests from some smaller groups.”

Nick eyed me--waiting to see if I had something to say. Claire took a bite of her salad. “Margot told me earlier that she doesn’t really want to make a statement.”

At this they all looked at me. I was mid-bite of flatbread, but I set it down and brushed at my mouth. “I don’t want to take the attention away from him--if I make a statement about it all I think that takes the focus off of his music.”

It sounded weird coming out of my mouth--that I wanted to give the album that would arguably make me sound like an ass all of the attention. I felt torn. On one hand, there was a part of me that was proud of Harry, proud of his writing and proud of his work. I was proud that he’d created something so different from his previous music, and proud that he’d made something so good.

At the same time, I was angry that he portrayed me as the one who left, the one who messed everything up. He could have stopped me--he just didn’t know how. I wanted Harry’s album to get the recognition it deserved, but that came at the price of risking my reputation more than I already had.

“Right,” Nick spoke, his sunglasses covered his eyes. “And I get that, it’s nice of you to be mindful of that. But I think the real thing we need to think of is how the album affects your image.”

My image--right, the thing that everyone seemed to care about. Forget me and my needs, it was all about the image we were constantly projecting to the media.

“I’m sick of giving a shit about that, Nick.”

Sinead looked up from her plate, caught off guard by my words. I wasn’t angry, I was just tired of doing things that didn’t feel authentic.

“I’d rather do what feels right than what looks right.”

He was quiet for a second. Claire cleared her throat and offered me a smile. “We can respond in a way that feels right to you. I mean--the album is about you, right? At least certain songs?”

I nodded, urging her to continue.

“We can find a way to respond that’s like--ballsy and honest. Yes--there are songs about you, you had a relationship with him.”

I liked her attitude--I liked the way she was talking about it. Yes, there were songs about me, and yes, we had a relationship. I didn’t need to keep my mouth shut to avoid all of the drama--I could respond in a way that was real and honest and made it clear that I wasn’t feeding into it.

“I like the sound of that,” I said honestly, eyeing Nick to see if he was on board. He smiled a little. He knew that I made the final call and he knew that if we were going to do this--if I was going to come out of hiding, so to say--that I was going to do it the way that felt right.

THEN - Day 1180

I’d never seen a therapist before--I’d never spoken to someone about everything and anything. I’d never told someone how paralyzing it felt to be asked so many questions and to give so many answers.

Rita--who was always wearing some kind of flowy dark shawl--seemed to understand me.

“So can you say more about the feeling of exhaustion? You keep mentioning that--that it had been seven years.”

I nodded, but where did I start? How did I tell her everything about my job--the long days, short nights, the shows, the meet and greets, the filming?

“I felt like I needed to pause everything. I was always working--my job didn’t really allow for breaks.”

“Just in the sense that your job was so busy?”

“No,” I shook my head. “In the sense that my job was to be me. I can’t not be me. I’m always working.”

She nodded, letting it sink in for a second.

“I think that’s why I wanted to pause it--because I never really got to.”

“I’m curious when you felt best about your job? When did you enjoy it the most?”

I thought for a minute, I stared at the books on her shelves and the plant by the window. It felt like it had been years. “When I first met him it was starting. But meeting him sort of reversed it, does that make sense?”

“I think so,” she nodded. “You felt it coming on, but it didn’t get too overwhelming?”

“Exactly. It was fun when there wasn’t so much pressure. I met him during the last season of my show and after that it became all about my next step.”

She waited, she wanted me to say more.

“Everyone wanted to know what I would do then--when was the next album? What was my next move? Everyone started asking more questions.”

She told me that it must have been exhausting--the feeling like the whole world was waiting for me to give the go ahead, like everyone wanted a piece of me and everyone had something to say. It was.

She listened to me talk more about the anxiety, the slowly growing tsunami that always hovered in the background. And then she asked me what I was afraid of in those moments.

“I don’t know--that’s the problem. I just get nervous and I feel like something bad is going to happen. Like if I don’t have a set schedule for the day then something will happen.”

“Like what?”

“Like someone will ask me questions. If we have a schedule then no one will ask me questions.”

She nodded thoughtfully. The clock ticked on the wall and we were quiet for a moment.

“I didn’t like feeling so pressured to have it together. My life has always been that way.”

“How so?”

I paused for a second--was it okay to go all the way back to my childhood? I let out a sigh, unsure if this was even relevant. “When I was little and my parents were married they would fight a lot. It was terrifying and it made me really upset and I felt like I couldn’t tell anyone. I guess I just got it in my head that if I told anyone how I felt, it would get worse.”

I’d already told Rita that my parents were divorced, that I was 7 when it happened, that I don’t really remember a time when I lived with my dad.

“You felt like you couldn’t tell anyone,” she repeated my words.

“If I did, everything would have been worse--my parents would worry about me. That’s why I never wanted to tell anyone about my feelings now--I didn’t like all of the pressure and the attention.”

“What would have happened if you told people how you were feeling?”

“They’d ask more questions and I’d feel more pressured to pretend. To act like everything was okay. That was my job, I didn’t want to have to do it at home, too. And Harry would freak out--if he got even just a whiff of me being in a bad mood there would be questions and catering to my needs and I hated that.”

“When he catered to your needs?”

I nodded. “I mean--sometimes it was okay, if it was just him being sweet. But the thing about being famous is that everyone is always willing to do anything for you. When we first started dating Harry made me feel normal. But the longer we were together the less he made me feel that way.”

NOW - Day 1705

I woke up to light streaming in between the curtains. I could tell, just by the way my legs stuck to the white sheets of my bed, that it was going to be a warm day.

I had that feeling--the momentary confusion when you wake up and don’t remember who you are, what you’re doing, what day it is. Then I remembered. My stomach sank and my heart beat climbed--I knew Sinead and Nick would tell me not to, but I knew what I had to do.

I grabbed for my phone and opened safari. His name flew off of my finger tips easily, the screen suddenly morphed into pictures of him at the movie premiere, words about his album, bold headlines about ‘painfully raw’ and ‘relationship tell-all.’

I clicked the first picture, a new page loaded and the words jumbled together. I took a deep breath. I knew this would happen--I knew that people would talk and I knew that people didn’t know the whole story. I knew that people were going to believe certain pieces and I knew that my only option was to sit here.

I clicked my phone shut and dropped it on my bed. The sound of the driveway alert made me wonder about the severity of the situation--was the response bad enough that Sinead felt she needed to babysit me?

I climbed out of bed and down the stairs, heading to the foyer to greet who I was sure was Sinead. I opened the door, used my hand to shield myself from the sun, but it wasn’t Sinead--it was Harry.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him, suddenly self-conscious of the fact that I was braless and still in shorts and a t-shirt. Twice in just a week he’d shown up to my house, we went from not speaking for eighteen months to standing eye to eye at my front door.

“Morning to you, too,” he smirked, coming up the step to stand in front of me. Sunglasses covered his green eyes and he was dressed rather casually for the day of his release--a dimple appeared on his left cheek as he looked me up and down.

I crossed my arms to cover my chest, causing him to laugh a little. “Margot,” he raised his sunglasses and let them rest on top of his head. “I’ve seen it all before.”

I rolled my eyes. “Still wondering why you’re here.”

“Right,” he said quickly, almost as if he’d forgotten. The day was warm and his skin looked tan--I wondered how much time he’d spent in the sun. “I’m going to be on Jimmy Kimmel tonight, d’ya want to come?”

“To Jimmy Kimmel?”

He nodded and waited for an answer expectantly. I had no idea why he was asking and why he wanted me there. That sounded like a bad idea if I was going to try to fly under the radar with his whole painfully raw relationship tell-all.

“Uh,” I scrunched my nose in confusion. “ I don’t think that’s smart.”

He let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “Can I come in?”

I blinked a few times, still surprised by his presence and his question--let alone the fact that he so nonchalantly alluded to our previous sexual encounters. “Sure.”

I moved aside and watched as he stepped onto the white marble tile of my foyer. I shut the door behind him and paused for a second, unsure of where to lead him. He’d seen my kitchen--was I supposed to give him the full tour? Should I show him my unmade bed and the crumpled papers in my music room that had lyrics scrawled on them?

“Do you want tea? Or breakfast? I haven’t eaten.”

His eyes were wandering around the open-floor plan, taking in the artwork that hung on the halls and the guitar that sat on my couch. I hadn’t put it away the night before. “Yeah, sure, I could eat.”

I walked towards the kitchen, he followed behind me like he’d done earlier in the week--this time, he seemed more comfortable. He followed behind me right up to the cabinet, and when I opened it, he reached over my head to grab the pancake mix.

“I’ll make it. Just sit,” he said, nodding to the stool at the island. I swallowed, wondering if this were a dream I’d wake up from in a cold sweat. I pointed to the cabinet that held the mixing bowls when he furrowed his brows, but he helped himself to the eggs and milk in my fridge.

“Nice day out,” he said, pouring the milk into a measuring cup he’d found in my drawer.

Here he was--standing in my kitchen like nothing had ever happened--like he’d woken up beside me and gave me a kiss on the forehead. He smiled at me over his shoulder when he dripped egg onto the granite, he knew I was likely to make a remark about it. When I didn’t, he laughed.

I felt the feeling in my stomach that I felt that day--when we sat on the edge of the hotel bed and I told him to leave. The regret and uncertainty pulsed through my veins, just like it had when he walked out and the door shut behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the anxiety that I’d grown so accustomed to.

“Aren’t you busy today?”

He shook his head but didn’t look at me--he stirred the batter and scraped some of it off of the edge of the bowl. “Just this afternoon and tonight. There’s a party after the taping--I’d love if you came to that, too.”

I was glad he wasn’t looking at me--I didn’t know what emotion was bubbling in my throat. Hope? Fear? Regret?

I bit at my lip, wondering what my therapist would say if she were sitting right here. Gone were my days with Rita--the woman with blonde hair and an office view of the horses. My twice-weekly appointments were now with Amanda, a short woman with long dark hair whose office was in Malibu, not Tennessee. She was friendly and supportive and I sometimes it felt like she knew me better than I know myself.

“Okay--I mean, I’ll come,” I said suddenly. He stopped stirring momentarily, but then started again. I wondered what he was thinking.

“What pan should I use?” he asked after a second of silence, still refusing to make eye contact with me. He stared down at the open cabinet by his knees as if he were making a careful selection.

I almost didn’t want to answer him--I was suddenly annoyed by the way he wouldn’t look at me. I was annoyed that he marched in here without warning and took over my kitchen. I was mad that he hadn’t called, I was mad that he walked away and didn’t even look back. I was mad that I hurt him and mad that he didn’t try harder. I was mad that I didn’t try harder.

I could feel tears threatening to spill over, I swallowed and tried to wipe at my face.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, the anger more present in my voice. He turned around quickly, and when he saw the emotion on my face, he wiped his hands together to remove any remnants of batter. He sighed, licking his lips before he shrugged--a sympathetic smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“You said you liked my pancakes.”

I laughed a little at this--it wasn’t funny, but it was true. “I said that three years ago.”

He was quiet, unsure of my point.

“I’m not the same person I was three years ago.”

He nodded at this, letting his hands rest in the pockets of his athletic shorts. “I’d like to know who you are now.”

I smiled, despite the fact that my eyes were wet and there was pancake batter sitting in a bowl behind him. I smiled despite the fact that there was a year and a half of confusion behind us and a fear of it all happening again.

THEN - Day 478

“Hand me the white bowl in there,” he pointed at a cabinet above me head. His mom’s house was quiet--always a good place to hide for a few days. His voice was low so as to not wake anyone, the only light came from the open fridge where he reached for a carton of milk.

Winter in the U.K. was something I’d never experienced, at least not like this. We’d gone sledding down a hill with his sister, the snow fell with force, not like it did in Raleigh.

I reached up and tried to grab it, but when my fingers grasped the rim, it clanked against the plates it stood beside.

“Jesus, Marg, you’ve got to be a little quiet,” he laughed, coming over to reach above my head for it. He set it down and then placed a hand on my shoulder to turn me around. His hair was longer than it’d been when we met--it was pushed back with a headband he’d taken from the bathroom I shared with Maya.

He pressed a kiss to my lips, sufficiently catching me off guard in his mother’s kitchen.

He pulled away from me but held my gaze. “I love you.”

I had that sinking feeling that I got every once in a while, like I knew something bad might happen but I wanted to proceed anyway. I mostly felt like I didn’t care--like nothing that happened to me could really be that bad if I had him by my side.

“I love you too,” I whispered back.

His smile was sweet, he stared down at me like he loved me enough to last a lifetime--I only hoped he did. “Alright,” he said suddenly, his voice serious as he walked back to the fridge he left open. “I’m starving.”

We’d been giggling in his childhood bedroom like kids, our feet tangled together beneath the sheets as he told me about the time he skipped school to go out with friends. We’d had a few too many glasses of wine with his mom in front of the fire, talking about the upcoming holiday and how excited we were to have some much needed time off.

We’d tiptoed down the stairs and he couldn’t really find a light switch, but I was happy just to watch him smile in the dimly lit kitchen.

I handed him the bowl he’d set on the counter and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek to his back. He stopped what he was doing, his hands found their way behind me and onto my hips. “What’s that for?” he asked quietly, squirming out of my grasp to turn around to face me.

I didn’t really know what it was for--all I knew was that I was suddenly worried. Worried in a sense that I loved him so much I knew that losing him would hurt more than anything I’d ever felt.

“I just don’t want you to go anywhere,” I said honestly.

He laughed a little, pulling my closer to him and pressing a kiss to my hair. “I don’t plan on it, lovie.”

NOW - Day 1705

Harry sat across from me at the island, he forked a bite of pancakes into his mouth and smirked up at me when he tasted them.

“This might be my best batch yet,” he wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. I sipped at the coffee I’d made, rolling my eyes at him--some things never changed.

He hadn’t pushed me much. I told him I’d come to the taping and I’d come to the party--I didn’t really know why but I knew that I wanted to, I knew I missed him and I knew that I wanted to be around him, even if it felt weird and new and hard.

He didn’t ask me any questions when I said I’d changed, I think he knew what I meant. I think he knew that I wasn’t the girl he fell in love with, but then again, neither was the girl he knew a year and a half ago.

“Have you heard anything yet from your manager about any numbers?”

He nodded--his full mouth kept him from answering until he swallowed. “Number one shortly after midnight, which is amazing. Not sure how many countries. It’s weird to think that it’s finally out. It’s just me.”

“I know,” I said, taking a bite of my own breakfast. It was weird. He’d been a part of the band for so long it was strange to think about the fact that he’d be making appearances alone--he’d have shows alone, he’d just be himself from now on.

“I met with Claire the other day to discuss my statement--if I make one, I mean.”

He nodded again, “will you?”

I shrugged, thankful for the fact that it felt natural to be with him, even if it was temporary. “I mean, I guess. Do you want me to? Do you think I should?”

He laughed a little, a smirk tugged at his lips and he set his fork down. He took a second to sip at his coffee, but he kept his eyes on me. “Do you want to?”

I thought about it for a second--the last thing I wanted to do in front of him right now was nervous ramble. I took a breath and tried to remind myself of the waves, Amanda said that was a good way to ground myself.

“I guess so--but it’ll be vague. Yes, I know it’s out. It’s good.”

I didn’t want to say anything about the songs--I didn’t want to say anything to specific about the lyrics and the titles and let him know that I had listened so closely and that I knew how much I’d hurt him.

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something good with Claire.”

I was quiet for a minute, my mind wandered to the questions and phone calls that were sure to come. I was surprised that Sinead hadn’t even texted me yet, Nick hadn’t called. It’s almost like, for a second, Harry and I were the only people in the world.

THEN - Day 1111

He was angry and I knew it. He was sitting on the couch in his dressing room--typing something on his phone and ignoring the chatter between me and his stylist. She pulled at my hair and held the curling wand in place.

His band had six sold out shows at the O2, meaning a quick stop in London for me to see his family, his friends, and make what felt like an obligatory appearance.

Apparently it was my fault that I’d forgotten about the afterparty. I was hoping we’d be able to go back to his place, have a quiet night, just the two of us, maybe things would feel like they used to.

“You’re quiet, Harry,” the woman said, her hands still close to my head as she fiddled with my hair.

He let out a ‘hmph,’ not taking his eyes off of his phone. “Harry,” I said, calling his attention to look up at me.

He caught my eyes in the mirror--he looked tired and sad and cold. He didn’t say anything, instead, he stood from his seat and walked over to me, leaning against the counter.

I didn’t know what to say--his anger was unfamiliar and uncomfortable.

“Can we talk for a second?” Harry asked the woman, she immediately pulled herself away from me, setting the wand on the table carefully and disappearing into the hallway without a word.

“Why is this my fault?” I asked him, sitting back in the chair.

“You don’t listen,” he shook his head. “I told you the other day on the phone that the party was happening and my family would be there--as would everyone else’s.”

“I forgot, okay? I forgot it was tonight. I just wish we didn’t have to make some fucking appearance for once.”

He shrugged and walked away from me. “Well what do you want me to do?”

“Nothing!” I raised my voice. “ I’m just upset, is that alright?”

“Of course it’s alright! I wish you’d be more upset, I wish you’d feel anything once in a while.”

“Shut up,” I told him quickly, the anger continuing to rise in me. “You don’t have to be a dick.”

“Well it’s hard to manage your emotions when you barely have any most of the time! I wish you’d just talk to me and tell me what’s going on,” he sat back on the couch, his hands thumped against the cushion in exasperation.

We weren’t doing this--I wasn’t getting into it with him. Each time I saw him he made me out to be an emotional wreck. And maybe I was, maybe things weren’t going too well, but if he thought pressuring me into talking to him would do the trick, he was wrong.

I knew he wasn’t stupid--I knew he could sense the shift in me and I knew he wanted to know what had caused it. But I couldn’t just explain to him something that I could barely comprehend.

The emptiness was growing and there were more and more days where I didn’t want to get out of bed and it felt like the floor shook when I did.

He’d yet to be so blunt about it--he normally approached my mood in a calm and reassuring way. I don’t know what made him so angry now, but I knew it was bound to come.

“I’m sorry my life is so hard on you.”

He rolled his eyes and scoffed--I almost wanted to smack the look of anger off of his face. Instead, I stood from the chair and walked to the door. I knew the tears were coming.

“Where are you going?” He stood quickly, taking a giant step towards the door to reach for me.

“Don’t touch me,” I said, but the words barely came out. Before I could even turn to look at him, my cheeks were wet and my eyes squeezed shut, his arms were around me and I felt a sob shake through my body.

“Lovie,” he said quietly, his voice less angry as he ran a hand through my hair. “I’ve got you, it’s okay.”

I knew he meant it. I knew he wanted to mean it. I knew he thought it was true. But the fact that it wasn’t, the fact that I couldn’t tell him that it wasn’t okay made everything worse.

THEN - Day 1183

Niall’s voice on the other end of the line made me feel guiltier than I already had. If having doubts about breaking up with Harry wasn’t bad enough, hearing from his best friend would only make it worse.

Most of my nights were spent wondering if he’d call--he hadn’t yet. My entire day seemed to revolve around him, even though he was thousands of miles away. I’d go to group, wonder if he’d called, I’d go to lunch and think about what he was doing. At dinner time I’d think about what I would want to tell him if I heard from him. When I fell asleep at night I cried about the fact that I was more alone than ever, which was something that didn’t feel possible.

“He’s kind of avoided it, to be honest,” Niall spoke, his voice sounded distant and distorted by the ocean between us. “I mean, he told us it happened, y’know--but we were so busy with the promo right away that he just kind of shut down, I think.”

I licked at my lips and stared at the chipped nail polish on my nails. I remember the time that Bonnie told me my nails always needed to be done--that’s what you do when you’re a celebrity, she’d said.

I was sat in a small room in the Day building--the building where we had our groups and therapy and our meals. There was a phone on the table in front of me that delivered Niall’s voice, a notepad I’d gotten from the admissions woman had the phone numbers of people scribbled down in Sinead’s handwriting.

“Have you asked him about it?”

“Course I did--I basically yelled at him one night because he wouldn’t even talk to me about it. He just said he didn’t want to. He’s bad, Marg, he really didn’t want to break up, he’s so in love with you.”

The words felt different now--I’d heard it before from Harry himself, but for some reason, any emotional capacity I had this summer was running low. I knew Harry loved me, I knew he wished that we could make it work, but it felt impossible all summer.

It felt like I was taking him down with me and I knew he deserved more than that, whether or not he loved me.

“Has he called you?” His voice brought me back to reality, my view came into focus as I counted traced the treatment center’s logo on a notepad on the desk.

“No,” I said quietly. Admitting it out loud felt like defeat--like the fact that he hadn’t called me made it clear that he deserved better and I was a fuck up.

“He hasn’t?!” Niall sounded angry at this, I could picture his red cheeks, a distinct sign that someone had bothered him or pissed him off. “What the fuck is wrong with him? Why’d he being such a twat?”

“Because he’s mad at me,” I said matter-of-factly. This wasn’t shocking. If I were Harry, I’d be mad, too.

“I’ll tell him to call you, Margot--he’s bein’ stupid.”

“Don’t,” I said quickly, adjusting in the chair. “I don’t want to talk to him. It’s done Niall--just--just let it be.”

He let out a sigh and muttered something inaudible. Instead of asking what he said, I told him it was dinner time and that I needed to go. He promised we’d talk next week and that he’d keep his mouth shut, but as I walked back to my room and reached for the guitar under my bed, I didn’t know if I believed him.

There’d likely come a time when Niall’s loyalty to Harry outweighed our friendship--even if we’d grown close over the last three years. There’d probably come a time where my time with all of them felt like a distant memory and hopefully there’d be a day when it didn’t hurt so bad.

I stared at the one guitar Sinead dropped off--it’s case was worn and scratched from all of its travel. I undid the gold latches and opened it, staring at the strings that once seemed to pull something out of me.

I was at the point--for the last few months--where I wasn’t finishing songs. I’d write a verse or a chorus, I’d come up with a line or two, but then I’d abandon the voice memo on my phone and it’d collect dust for weeks.

I wished I could write--I wished I could process the feelings inside of me, the feelings that were starting to learn how to come out.

I picked up the guitar and played an E flat.

In your eyes I could be anyone--but I am no one.

I left you without saying goodbye,

You won't remember what we've said and done,

And the storm won't come--I will put apart so push me aside.

THEN - Day 1201

The cabin air was cold--Sinead was asleep on the couch that lined the side of the plane and I couldn’t help but jump when we touched down.

I’d never been so nervous to be back in L.A.

It’d been exactly 30 days since I checked in--31 days since I’d heard from Harry and 29 days since I admitted that maybe I wasn’t keeping my head above water anymore. I guess this meant he wasn’t calling. I guess this was the new normal.

I had no idea where he was--England, I’m sure. Home with his family and eating a good dinner with nice wine and smiling while his sister told a funny story. He was probably angry at me--I wondered if he was sad and if he missed me and I wondered why he didn’t call.

I didn’t tell him I was doing it--I didn’t tell any of them. The only people who knew were my mom and Pete, Sinead and Nick, and Maya and Ben. Niall had heard from Ben, I think--and I’m sure he was the one who told Harry.

My mom had told me that the news had broken--people knew I was here, they knew we broke up, Claire had made a statement that I was taking an indefinite hiatus.

I had learned in 30 days that it was okay to say no, that I had to take time for myself, and that I had a lot of catching up to do. I don’t think I really did that for seven years--maybe here or there when my mom planned a family vacation or Harry and I went to visit family. I was running on a treadmill that didn’t have an off button.

Rita knew a good therapist in Malibu--she gave me her number and set me up with an appointment, I’d be able to continue my work with her and she’d help me find someone who could keep up my prescription. It’d only been two weeks, but I felt a little less on edge already.

When the tiny plane slowed to a stop, Sinead sat up and blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the light. “Welcome home,” she said.

NOW - Day 1705

I stood in the corner with Sinead by my side--her dark blue dress was the one she wore to the Emmys in 2014, she claimed it was her best one.

She had her phone in her hand in case we needed to make a sudden escape, but I was okay, I was managing. My heart was pounding and my palms felt sweaty. Harry stood on the other side of the room with Jeff and some other people I didn’t recognize.

Nick had gone to get drinks--he’d told me that there was no way in hell I was going to this without him. Having him and Sinead felt good--like I had backup.

I didn’t end up going to the taping--mostly because I felt like it would make bigger news if I were there. The afterparty, the release party--that seemed like a place where I might logically show up. That seemed like it didn’t give away too much about the state of my relationship with Harry and the current happenings in my life. It felt safer.

So that’s where I stood--in the corner, in a black dress that Bonnie had pulled from a stylist friend’s wardrobe. I had uncomfortable heels on and the only reason I was still there is because Sinead was handing my champagne glass after champagne glass.

The corner became my spot--various people seemed to come and go, different executives I’d worked with, a producer or two that knew Nathan. People made their way up to our circle to give a greeting, ask how I’d been. It was fine--no one asked any tough questions, everyone seemed understandably surprised to see me.

When the crowd had thinned out a bit--when Sinead had taken a seat at a table nearby and Nick was off talking with an A&R guy from RCA--Harry made his way to me, he was clad in a shiny purple suit and his hair had lost some of its hold from the night, a curl escaped in front of his forehead.

A woman from his team had introduced herself to me, but she politely ducked out when Harry came up behind her.

“I’m surprised you stayed so long,” he said, his hands in his pockets as he approached me. He had a smirk on his face that told me he was partially joking, but a look in his eye that told me he meant it.

“Leaving early would probably just reinforce the whole ‘villain’ thing--I haven’t decided yet if that’s the comeback I want.”

He smiled at my joke, a soft laugh escaping his lips. He ran a hand through his hair and kept his eyes on me--I wished I could read his mind, I wanted to know every single thought he had and every feeling he felt.

“If anyone can make a comeback--it’s you.”

I rolled my eyes at this--the last thing I felt confident about was any sort of comeback. I hadn’t even really discussed it seriously. Nick knew I was recording and I’d sent more memos to Nathan--I was set to go into the studio tomorrow to work on finishing a few more songs.

Something about a schedule didn’t feel right--this process, this recording and writing and experiencing--I needed it to be authentic. I needed it to happen at it’s own pace. And Harry didn’t need to know about it yet.

“I think this kind of forces me into one--being here, I mean. Pictures will be everywhere by morning.”

He shrugged--he didn’t seem bothered in the slightest that his album release would undoubtedly get me a lot of press. We were interrupted then--a man in a suit shook Harry’s hand in an effort to say goodbye. I stood patiently, awkwardly, watching as he interacted with people I didn’t know.

He didn’t bother to introduce me--I guess that’s what happens when you’re not dating someone. You don’t know who they know and you don’t get an introduction.

The familiar feeling of regret washed over me as I watched him smile in appreciation at whatever kind words the man was saying. He looked happy--genuinely happy and whole. He didn’t look like a boy who was missing a piece--a person--that once was so important.

Niall had painted him to be a wreck, he told me stories of the things Harry would say and the look on his face when my name came up. He’d said that Harry would avoid the conversation altogether, admitting only here and there--and maybe after a few drinks--that he wished I never left.

Now, though, he looked fine. He didn’t look like the Harry I left in the hotel room--the boy with a big heart and misguided intentions.

The man in the suit smiled at me in his departure, and when we were alone again, I spoke first. “Do you want to get some dinner?”

Harry looked somewhat surprised by my proposal--his eyes wide for a second before a smirk washed over his face. “Sure, yeah,” he nodded. “Let’s go.”

THEN - Day 1066

I hummed along as I played--the venue was noisy and I was hiding out in my dressing room before sound check. Harry was off with Ben--they’d mentioned something about soccer before heading towards the parking lot. Maya and my mom had headed to lunch, I promised to catch up with them later, I needed a second alone.

I’d been working on the song for a few days, but I only had one line of a chorus. That’s how it happened, normally. A single line and just a melody to hum, I played it over and over until things finally started to fit into place.

“Give me a reason to let you go,” I sang the words quietly, mindful of my volume to avoid being heard. The last thing I needed was for someone to hear, for someone to question anything and everything.

My heart felt heavy, my bones felt tired, and worst of all, my emotions seemed to be fleeting with every passing day. Harry said I felt distant, Maya said I seemed bored. I didn’t know who was right, but I figured they both were on to something.

I’d been excited to start the tour at first, I was hoping that performing every night would give me the energy boost I needed to keep going, keep writing, keep recording, keep performing. It didn’t. It drained me and felt repetitive and it only seemed to amplify the feeling that I was no one without her--the girl that everyone knew.

Margot Jones put a smile on her face and a pep in her step, she was happy and energetic and excited. On the inside, Margot Jones was tired, emotional, and felt empty.

For some reason, all the signs pointed to Harry. He loved me with everything he had. He loved my family, he loved my crew, my band, my team. He loved me so much that sometimes I wondered if he’d be okay, but when I thought about the way my life was going, I knew he was better off without me.

My mood was constantly declining, and every time I saw him I hoped it would help. Every time I saw him, I was disappointed.

He didn’t excite me like he used to. He didn’t send adrenaline through my veins or release a swarm of butterflies. Maybe I was bored all around--maybe I needed change or a vacation, or something, but I knew one thing: I couldn’t stay with him.

He made me nervous, he made me feel guilty. He deserved better than I could give and he loved me more than I could handle. He was too important in my life--I hadn’t managed much without him. The early part of my career was easy, it was parties and albums and exciting events.

After the show end, things got more serious. I was writing more of my own material, writing deeper material, I was more involved in the production process. I was traveling to see him, traveling for work, everything I did, I did with him in mind.

At 20, that felt silly. I’d become Harry Styles’ girlfriend, I became Margot Jones. There was so much of my identity that didn’t feel familiar and didn’t feel real.

I needed to know who I was without him, without the crowds. I needed to know who I was when I was alone, without a personal assistant and a manager and a bodyguard. I needed to know who I was when it was just me.

The only problem was that he wouldn’t understand it--how could he? Things were okay, as far as he could tell. He loved me, I loved him, he would try to talk me out of it, I was sure. He’d be upset and angry and he wouldn’t understand why. I’d be the villain and he’d be the victim, he’d try to convince me otherwise.

It’s not that I didn’t love him, it’s that his love was too shallow for the depths of where I was. His love couldn’t reach me at rock bottom, even if we wanted it to.

NOW - Day 1705

The digital screen in the front of his car told me that it was 12:46am. The windows were slightly open as we sat in the parking lot. He let out a groan of pleasure and let his head fall back against the headrest.

“I had no idea how hungry I was,” he said through a full mouth, his burger in his hand as he licked the corner of his mouth.

At this time of night and at this point in our careers, we didn’t have an abundance of dining options--especially one where we didn’t have to sit in some stuffy dining room with clingy service staff who asked if you needed more water after every sip.

“Me too,” I said, my eyes glued to the burger in front of me as I took a bite.

We were quiet for a second--he’d told me a bit about his sister’s boyfriend on the drive over and I told him about Sinead’s recent affinity for biographies. We all had to keep busy when I wasn’t working.

“Can I ask you a question?” He turned to look at me, his brows drawn together in anticipation of my answer. I nodded--sipping at the soda I’d ordered.

“Do you feel like therapy has helped?”

I set the cup down, thinking over his question. The easy answer was yes--the longer answer was yes, but only after a while. I didn’t expect rehab to be so intense--I mean, after all, I wasn’t there for an addiction or an eating disorder like most celebrities who went away. I was there because I was sad and nervous, that’s all.

I watched him for a second--his eyes were glued to mine as if he depended on every word I said. I wondered how long he’d been wondering about this--about therapy and about me and about how I’d changed.

I nodded. “I like it a lot. It’s nice.”

He smiled a bit, but I knew he wasn’t pleased with my answer. I rolled my eyes before he could say anything, letting out a sigh--we knew each other so well that we could communicate with just a look. “It was hard at first. It got worse before it got better--the anxiety, I mean. It’s like they sent me there to feel everything all at once--then it started to get easier.”

He plucked at his lower lip with his free hand, still holding his burger in the other. He was quiet for a second, staring out into the parking lot of other parked cars. “I should have called.”

“What?”

“I should have called,” he said again, still matter-of-fact. He didn’t look at me, he just plucked at his bottom lip as if it would save him from whatever I would say in response.

I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. He should have--I wanted him to. Even if I left and I broke up with him, he should have at least called. Just thinking about it made me emotional--it made tears well in my eyes and lump form in my throat. I set the burger down on the paper bag in my lap, sipping at my soda in an attempt to swallow the feelings.

He looked at me now, unsure of how to respond. The look on his face was familiar--it was the same sadness that he wore the day it happened. It was the look on his face when he asked me to say something, it was the way he closed his eyes before he kissed my forehead.

“I know I was the one who left,” I said slowly, trying to keep my voice steady. “But I needed you. And I know it’s my fault because I didn’t let you help, but I’m mad that you didn’t try harder.”

I didn’t know if the words even made sense--I knew it sounded selfish and I knew he was hurt too, but I wanted him to understand that I was doing the best I could, I didn’t know how to tell him what I needed back then.

He shook his head, letting out a sigh. “I just wanted you to tell me what was wrong.”

“I didn’t know what was wrong,” I said quickly, my voice still quiet to avoid any tears. “I had no clue what was happening--all I knew was that I was miserable and everyone else wasn’t and I felt like if I told anyone everything would implode.”

He dropped his eyes at this, almost as if it hurt him to hear about it. “You could have told me--I would have done anything to help you.”

I nodded, he blurred in my vision until I wiped at the tears. “I wasn’t at a place to do that. I wish I had been.”

He was quiet now, staring at the clock as if it held a secret that would tell us how to fix everything. I think we both would have, if we could. I think we both would have gone back and done things differently, but what difference does it make when you’re sitting in a drive through parking lot at 1am after a year and a half?

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you.”

He brought his eyes up to me now, waiting for me to say more.

“I’m sorry I kept you out and didn’t ask for help--I should have let you. I’m sorry I backed out because I was afraid.”

He nodded, searching my face. He brought his hands up and pressed them against his eyes, as if it would stop the tears from forming. He let out a sigh and laughed slightly, I think he was laughing at himself.

“It’s so stupid--” he said, removing his hands from his face and staring out at the parking lot again.

“What is?”

He shrugged, “the fact that I’m still so in love with you after all of this time.”

I was glad he wasn’t looking at me--I think I pulled my head back in shock and held my breath for a second.

“I’ve been so angry and so sad and still so in love with you.” He brought his eyes to mine now, his face straight and expressionless--I couldn’t read him in the slightest.

I nodded--I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t know what to say.

“I thought it’d go away, y’know? I thought if I just didn’t talk to you and didn’t see you it would just stop and I’d move on.”

My heart fluttered for a second--the thought of him not moving on and not being with anyone else was nice. It made me feel like I wasn’t crazy--like we had really been in love and like it really meant something, even if it became too much for me.

I wanted to tell him I felt the same way, that I’d been thinking about him and wondering what he was doing and that I’ve regretted it every day since. Instead, I bit my lip. “Why did you tell me about the single--why did you reach out?”

He blew air between his lips and shrugged, resting his head in his hand on the side of the door. “I figured I should--I mean, I knew it was going to get a reaction out of people and I knew you’d get questions.”

I nodded, keeping my gaze on the floor.

“I also thought maybe you’d respond and I’d get to find out how you were doing.”

I smiled at this, turning to look at him. He was still in his suit--his obnoxiously shiny suit. His hair was messy and there was half of an In N’ Out burger sitting on a wrapper in his lap.

“When I moved to Malibu, I would drive by Geoffrey’s when you were in town just to see if you’d be there. I’d see something online about you being in L.A. and I’d just drive by--just kind of hoping that maybe we’d run into each other.”

He laughed, licking at his lips. “I don’t think it’s running into each other when you��re stalking me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Most people would find that endearing, you asshole.”

He laughed again, bringing a finger to his lips and holding it there. I watched him for a second, nervous about the future and still regretting the past. I thought about the hotel room in New York with the windows and the white walls.

I thought about the dressing room on set where we’d been introduced, the driveway at my mom’s and the grass we sat on. I thought about the countless venues and hallways and hotels in between, the setting of our story.

“You should have called,” I said quietly, “but I also shouldn’t have left to begin with.”

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swimmingwolf59 · 6 years

Text

Vines and Ravens

(A/N) Just so you guys know, there is a scene with self-harm in this, so please proceed with caution!! ;w;

When Ronan was ten, he ran into his soulmate. Literally.

His family had been picnicking at the local park, spread out in the grass near a playground. It was a summer weekend afternoon so the park was packed; children ran every which way screaming and laughing and adults covered almost the entire area with blankets and umbrellas. After Aurora had wrestled sunscreen onto the boys, she set them loose playing tag with the other children and throwing a football with Niall.

Ronan was running his hardest to catch up to a ball that Niall had accidentally chucked too high when it happened. He hadn’t been paying attention, looking up for the ball instead of watching where he was going, and it surprised him when he solidly collided with another body. They tumbled to the ground, Ronan falling on top of the other person and rolling painfully into the dirt.

“Ow…” someone groaned, and Ronan blinked his eyes open to stare at them.

He was another boy about Ronan’s age with dirt blonde hair and eyes as blue as the ocean when he met Ronan’s gaze. Ronan found himself memorized for reasons he hadn’t understood then as he stared at the boy gingerly sitting up beside him. He almost said something to him, but just then his arms started tingling.

When he looked down, dark green vines had emerged on his fingers and were slowly crawling their way up his hands and to his wrists. He was wearing a tank-top, so he was able to watch as the vines spread up and up and up his arms until they curled into leaves on his shoulders and stopped. The other boy stared at the growing tattoos with wide eyes. He was wearing a long-sleeve shirt and pants so Ronan couldn’t tell if his marks were growing too but they had to be. There was no such thing as one-sided soulmate marks.

At ten, Ronan didn’t fully understand the implications of what had just happened. He barely understood concepts like ‘true love’ and ‘soulmates’. He did understand, though, that he was supposed to like the person who made his marks emerge.

But before he could say anything, his soulmate hurriedly stood and fled in the opposite direction.

Later, Declan told him he had a whole forest on his back. Normally, soulmate marks were small, only encompassing a wrist or a shoulder blade. But Ronan’s spanned the entire length of his back, his shoulders, and both of his arms. Aurora said that it was because the love he would share with his soulmate was larger than most people’s.

She didn’t have an answer for why, if that was true, his soulmate had turned and bolted the other way.

As Ronan grew, he gradually began to understand what had happened that day. He’d supposedly met the love of his life, who had been another boy. This meant that he was a boy that liked boys. In church, Ronan learned that this was something weird: soulmates were always between a man and a woman. But his family never said anything. They never said he was a sinner or tried to change him. Instead, they had speculated about who the boy could be and if it would be possible to find him. When Ronan entered Aglionby, they hopefully believed that Ronan might meet his soulmate there.

But Ronan had a feeling he wouldn’t. Because the other thing he had come to understand was that he had supposedly met the love of his life and, instead of wanting to get to know him, his soulmate had ran. Why? Had he found Ronan repulsive, in some way? Had he scared him? Declan always told him he had a scary face.

At first, it didn’t bother him. It wasn’t like he’d ever see the guy again.

Then he found his father beaten to death in the driveway. Then he learned that the opposite of love was hate and that it was so, so easy to hate yourself and twist everything that ever happened into another reason to hate yourself. Then he realized that if even his soulmate, who was supposed to love him more than anyone else on earth, didn’t love him, then who would? Was everyone in this world destined to leave him behind?

He soon learned to hate the marks. He’d once thought them beautiful and intricate and as a child he’d sometimes stay up late and imagine the person who would have such beautiful marks in their soul. Now he only saw it as a reminder that everything was shit and that Ronan Lynch was meant to walk the path of pain and suffering.

It hurt so goddamn much.

Throwing himself out of bed, Ronan slipped into the bathroom. He’d moved out by then, as being at home had been too agonizing, so he pulled out a beer from Gansey’s fridge and sat heavily on the toilet. From the counter, he grabbed his razor.

He stared at his arms until the vines and leaves blurred and he could no longer see their details. Where one stem dangled down the slender skin of his wrist, he slashed into it with the razor. Then he did the same with the other one. Ronan watched the blood red run down his hands and cover the green vines on his fingers.

There. Now it was all over.

Or so he’d thought.

He woke up in the hospital, his mother and Matthew crying by his bedside and his wrists pulsing with pain. Declan was talking to someone on the phone in the doorway and Gansey leaned on the wall, staring at him. He wasn’t crying, but the red rim around his eyes made it obvious that he had been, and he stared at Ronan with such fear that Ronan had to close his eyes again.

That day, he learned that he only knew how to hurt the people he cared about.

No wonder his soulmate hadn’t wanted to stick around.

Adam had been lucky with his soulmate marks.

They were large—flocks of ravens covered his chest, wrapping their wings around his heart, claws and beaks sharp against his skin—but they were confined entirely to his chest and easily covered by a shirt. This was lucky, because Adam’s father had never found his own soulmate, and Adam had known instinctively, as he watched those marks crawl up that boy’s arms, that he’d get in trouble. If his father had seen that he’d accomplished something like that when he hadn’t there would be hell to pay.

He was also lucky in the fact that his soulmate hadn’t run after him when their marks had emerged. If his father had seen that his soulmate was male…he couldn’t even bear to think about it.

But his father hadn’t seen, and so Adam went on with his life only removing his shirt when he was sure neither of his parents could see. Sometimes, at night, he stared at the ravens on his chest and wondered what his soulmate was like. He knew it was likely that he would never run into him again—and even if he did it was unlikely his soulmate would actually love him after knowing who he was—but he couldn’t help but wonder.

Part of him regretted that he hadn’t stuck around to at least learn his name.

Adam grew and worked his ass off and made it into Aglionby, despite his dad blocking him every step of the way. On the first day of class, Adam got to first period early, not wanting to seem anything less than perfect, and to his surprise found someone already there. He was standing at the whiteboard, writing something on it so fiercely that it made the marker squeak horrendously with each stroke. He was wearing a leather jacket, dark, tight skinny jeans, and combat boots and he had a completely shaved head; that on top of his behavior convinced Adam that he was a delinquent.

But he was early to class.

And he was writing in nearly fluent Latin.

And he was dangerously attractive.

Standing directly behind him, Adam observed his sentences. He couldn’t parse together all of it, but it seemed to be a crude joke of some kind. He found himself smirking, despite everything.

“You know, if you hide the eraser when you’re done your joke will be up there forever.”

The boy startled so badly he dropped the marker. Whirling around, he fixed a glare on Adam that was so deadly it could keel gods. Adam wasn’t a god, but he also wasn’t easily intimidated. He didn’t sense any danger underneath the glare.

The boy stared at him for an unsettling minute before whipping back around to the board. “I should’ve thought of that.”

Adam hid a smile in his shoulder. “Obviously you need to brush up on your delinquent tactics.”

Adam didn’t know where this was all coming from. Adam Parrish did not flirt with people who looked like they belonged in a motorcycle gang.

“Fuck off, man,” the boy said, but his posture was relaxed. “I’m not done with my masterpiece yet, though. Can I trust you with the honors…?”

It took Adam a ridiculously long time to realize that he was asking for his name. “Adam. Parrish.”

“Alright. Think fast, Parrish.” Before he was even done speaking, the boy tossed the eraser at Adam who somehow managed to catch it with only minimal fumbling.

While Adam poked around for the perfect place to hide the eraser, the boy continued his scribbling on the board, both of them silently engaged in their tasks. Adam was removing a book from the bookshelf to test if the eraser could hide behind it without giving away the fact that something was behind it when the boy suddenly spat out, “You’re not gonna ask me for my name?”

Deeming that it was pretty much unnoticeable unless someone knew to look for it, Adam carefully placed the eraser at the back of the bookshelf and put the book back in. “I figured you would tell me if you wanted me to know.”

“It’s Ronan. Ronan Lynch,” the boy said so quickly the words nearly tumbled over themselves.

Adam didn’t know what to think about the fact that Ronan had basically just admitted he’d wanted Adam to know his name.

“Okay, Lynch, then tell me this—” Adam leaned back on the bookshelf, smirking as Ronan immediately adopted a defensive posture, “—do you do this often?”

It was weird, how quickly Ronan relaxed. A savage grin even started to tug on his lips, apparently unaware that Adam was in a position where he could see it. “Only on Mondays.”

Adam laughed. “It’s Wednesday.”

“Well shit, Parrish, school just started – it’s essentially a Monday,” Ronan quipped before stepping back to admire his work. “How’s it look?”

“Like chicken scratch,” Adam admitted honestly.

“Fuck you,” Ronan replied, but his tone almost sounded playful. “Bet you don’t even know what it says.”

“Yeah, because I literally can’t read it.”

Ronan barked out a loud laugh, apparently startling them both if Ronan’s wide-eyed look was anything to go by. Abruptly, Ronan strode to a desk in the back and threw himself down into it, tossing his legs up on the table as he did so in one violent, fluid motion. He seemed incapable of moving any other way. As Adam watched him, Ronan roughly shrugged out of his jacket, not seeming to care as it fell to the floor.

Unabashedly, Adam’s eyes trailed to his arms and his heart stopped beating.

Because underneath his jacket he wore a black tank-top so that his arms and shoulders, and the marks that were on them, were on complete and total display. And Adam could never forget those marks. They reflected everything he felt inside, everything he was.

Ronan caught him looking, and for a second it felt like time itself had stopped. “Yeah, they’re fucking everywhere, I know. My mom always said it was because of some ‘true love’ bullshit, but my asshole of a soulmate ran off without a second glance. Didn’t even get the fucker’s name.”

Adam didn’t know what to say. The bitterness in Ronan’s tone was throwing him off, and he felt like a fish out of water every time his eyes scanned over those marks. He hadn’t been prepared for a scenario where he ran into his soulmate again. He hadn’t thought it was possible, and his brain still couldn’t seem to figure out that it was happening.

Ronan sucked in a breath. “…It was you, wasn’t it.”

It wasn’t a question.

Adam stared down at his shoes, angry with himself. All of those times he’d dreamed of running into his soulmate again and he couldn’t even figure out a damn word to say to him.

Ronan’s boots eventually stomped into his line of sight until he was standing toe to toe with Adam. For an insane, wild moment Adam thought he was going to kiss him. But Ronan just growled, “Fuck all the way off.”

And then left, slamming the door behind him.

Ronan felt explosive.

He couldn’t believe he ran into his soulmate again, and here of all places. He couldn’t believe that he’d been starting to like that fucker and his stupid witty remarks and his stupid freckles and his stupid gorgeous hands—

“Ronan, wait—” And there he was now, taunting Ronan at every step, just as he always had.

Ronan had nothing to say to him. He’d spent years getting over the hurt and self-loathing that Adam had helped cause and had finally gotten to a place where he felt relatively at peace with himself. He still hated himself, but the hatred didn’t run so deep that he felt like taking a knife to his skin again.

So of course Adam had to show up again now.

“Oh, now you chase after me, huh?” Ronan snarled, hastening his pace.

But somehow Adam managed to catch up to him anyway. “Just shut up and come in here with me for a sec.” Adam grabbed his arm and dragged him into the nearby bathroom.

“I don’t want to hear your fucking excuses!” Ronan growled, yanking his arm out of Adam’s grasp.

Adam turned his blue eyes on him. Honestly, Ronan should’ve guessed it right away – how could he ever forget those eyes? “I’m not giving you an excuse. I’m trying to show you why I did what I did that day.”

“So, you’re giving me an excuse.” Ronan rolled his eyes but settled back on one of the sinks and waited.

Just because he was in a better place didn’t mean he was any less self-destructive.

But instead of talking, Adam turned on a different sink and started roughly washing his face. Ronan almost snarled at him—seriously, this asshole was making him wait so he could wash his goddamn face?—but then something caught his eye and he froze.

As the water rinsed down Adam’s face, so too did a concealer of some sort, slowly revealing an ugly bruise that spanned nearly the entire half of his face around his eye. It was harsh and purple and throbbing and Ronan sucked in a hard breath at the sight of it. The anger in his gut bled into his veins and he wanted to punch the wall until his skin broke.

“…Who the fuck did this?”

Adam didn’t reply for a long time, instead staring at his reflection in the mirror. Ronan realized suddenly that this was a secret, something that he wasn’t supposed to know but was being trusted with anyway.

“My dad,” Adam eventually said, his voice so quiet Ronan barely heard him.

Ronan exhaled. He understood now. It hadn’t been about him at all; it had been about what it would’ve looked like. He understood, but he didn’t know what to do with the information. He both wanted to ask and didn’t want to know how long this had been going on; he wanted to ask where he lived so he could go beat the shit out of that bastard—

But he didn’t ask any of that.

“Can I see your marks?” Ronan asked instead, softer than he’d intended.

Adam turned and stared at him for a long time. For a second, Ronan thought he would refuse him. But then he gave a miniscule nod and started unbuttoning his uniform. Ronan watched with apt attention as he turned off the sink and draped his uniform carefully over it before shucking off his t-shirt in one smooth motion.

When there was only bare skin left, Ronan felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Ravens flooded Adam’s chest, their wings a feathered frenzy as they crossed over each other and fought each other to fly. Most of the ravens seemed to be fighting to get to Adam’s heart, and the only one at peace was the one that had its wings over Adam’s heart, but there were some ravens that were flying downwards too, their claws and tails leaving a clear trail right down to—

Ronan snapped his eyes up. He felt like he was blushing but couldn’t seem to stop.

He wondered if this was why Adam had been so speechless earlier – to see himself so clearly in art on someone else’s body…

Ronan felt weak in the knees.

Before he even knew it he was stepping forward, gently pressing his hands to the ravens on Adam’s ribs. Adam stiffened but didn’t push him away, so Ronan took it as a sign to let his fingers roam, carefully exploring over skin and ink. Adam let out a shaky breath as Ronan traced one of the raven’s beaks over his heart. His long fingers skittered up Ronan’s arms, following both his veins and the veins of the leaves. “Do you have them just on your arms?”

“No, I’ve got a whole fucking forest.” Ronan took off his tank top and turned around so that Adam could see his back.

Adam didn’t say anything for so long that Ronan almost looked back to see what his expression was. But then he felt Adam’s fingers splay out gently across his back, his hands startingly cool. Ronan barely suppressed a shiver.

“I’m sorry I hurt you by running away,” Adam said. “I regretted doing it every day since then.”

“You had your reasons.” Ronan firmly believed that now. The hurt wouldn’t heal as quickly—that shit was ingrained—but he didn’t feel so angry at Adam anymore. How could he, when he’d just been acting out of self-preservation? “Besides, I would have been fucked up these last few years anyway even if you hadn’t.”

“Yeah, but maybe I could’ve been there for you,” Adam said and suddenly started mouthing at his back.

Ronan jumped and whirled around, startled. He was definitely blushing now.

Adam was smirking, the bastard. “Too soon?”

Ronan swallowed. “No…it just, uh, tickled.”

Adam stared at him for two seconds before he burst out laughing. Ronan found himself fighting back a grin as he stepped forward and grabbed Adam’s cheeks gently in his hands.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, and kissed him.

Adam kissed him back hungrily, his hands gripping at Ronan’s forearms. Their marks hummed between them, warmth searing up Ronan’s arms and down his back. It was almost scary how much Ronan wanted to kiss him, how much he wanted to erase the space between them. The emotions he felt for him were like a tsunami, drowning him and knocking down the few pillars of defense that he had left.

But he never wanted it to stop. It was too exhilarating.

…Hell, maybe his mom had been right about what his marks meant.

“You better not run away this time,” Ronan murmured when they parted, both gasping for air. He’d meant it as a joke, but it didn’t come out that way.

Adam touched his cheek. “I won’t.”

#pynch #pynch week 2018 #pynch week #trc #ronan lynch #adam parrish #self-harm #mention of abuse #soulmate mark au #my writing

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fromherlips · 7 years

Photo

happy part six of a face to call home! it wouldn’t be the holidays if heva didn’t make an appearance, would it? this is the only non-winter related bit of ‘brace your elf’ december, but it’s been a while and we all deserve to know what’s going on with harry, eva & co. enjoy!

march 2030: one too many shopping bags (gif 2)

“How come Maeve and Eva got to go out shopping for the afternoon while we’re stuck with these terrors?” Harry asked, watching as Niall’s two sons Emmett and Dylan chased around Madeleine and Phoebe. The four of them ran circles throughout the open layout of the living room, their feet padding against the floor in loud, anti-rhythmic patterns, almost like their own personal stampede.

Niall snorted, leaning back against the cushion of the sofa as he began to settle in. “Your wife is creeping closer to her due date while mine is still nursing our nine-month-old, let them have a day out,” Niall replied, his head immediately turning when he heard the sound of a loud thump. Madeleine immediately called out that everything was fine, which was usually a sign that everything was not fine. Seconds later, the group came barreling through the living room again, no tears or ailments in sight.

“Fair enough,” Harry agreed. “How’s Regan?”

“I can’t say that I don’t love her because I do, but I would really love her more if she slept through the night,” Niall admitted. “She’s cute as all hell though. I reckon she got my looks, eh?”

Harry snorted. “She is Maeve through and through, but you tell yourself that Niall.”

“Ah, you’re just mad that Maddie and Pheebs are spitting images of Eva,” Niall replied. “Wonder what the little guy is going to look like.”

“Me too,” Harry admitted. “I cannot believe it’s only a couple of months away now. Seems like just yesterday that Eva told me she was pregnant again.”

“Time flies, especially with you guys,” Niall said. “I mean, Eva’s got everything with her brand and you’re writing a ton now that the girls are in school, right?”

Harry shrugged. “A decent amount,” he replied. “I’m telling you, it’s Maddie and Phoebe that keep everything going. I can’t believe they’re six and three, it’s mental.”

“You’re telling me! Dylan’s four and a half and Emmett is three going on eighty. He’s such a little old man, I love him,” Niall said.

“Sounds like your son then,” Harry joked, jabbing his mate in the side with his elbow. “Want to know what’s really mental?”

“Hm?” Niall hummed, turning to look at Harry.

“Those four kids? That was us, like, a little less than twenty years ago,” Harry pointed out, wincing at his own attempt at aging himself.

Niall cackled, chucking his head back while he laughed at the ceiling. “Mate, shut up,” Niall said, shaking his head. “Can’t believe all the trouble we got ourselves into on those first tours.”

“I can’t believe the five of us didn’t kill each other by accident,” Harry said. “I mean, Louis was a nightmare. He and Zayn together terrified me.”

“Because no one ever knew what they were up to!” Niall added. “I mean, at least we knew you were running around somewhere partially dressed while Liam was working out and I was…what the hell was I doing?”

Harry shrugged. “I was apparently too busy running around somewhere with a majority of my clothes off.”

Niall laughed, smacking Harry’s arm with the back of his hand. “Piss off.”

It was rare that Harry had a chance to see the rest of the lads regularly. Niall lived in Ireland, Liam and Louis both in London, and Harry still in New York City. It wasn’t just the distance because it never was. They each had their own families now, their own lives that took up more time than any of them would’ve expected when they were younger. It was naïve, sure, but it all ended up worth it, even if it meant that visits were less frequent and texting became a main form of communication.

Niall and Maeve spent a week in New York at least once a year, renting a space that wasn’t far from Harry and Eva’s flat so they had enough space to manage their family as well. It was always great to see Niall again, but it also gave Eva an opportunity to hang out with Maeve. She had other friends from the girls’ school and people she knew from work, but it was always important to her to be friends with Maeve, Sophia, and Eleanor. She knew it meant a lot to Harry. The boys were bonded for life, and somehow their significant others latched onto each other to create a similar bond.

“So, any updates on the move to Los Angeles?” Niall asked.

“Not quite,” Harry replied. “If I bring it up, it stresses Eva out and that’s obviously the last thing that I want to do. But…I mean, look at this place. It’s too small.”

“You guys have been here for years,” Niall said. “Since…before Maddie, right?”

Harry nodded. “This was the first place we moved into after we got married,” Harry said. “I love it here, but we’ve outgrown it. And…I don’t know, I feel like this is just a really good time, especially with a new baby. That probably sounds contradictory, but…”

“I understand,” Niall interjected, stopping Harry from going on one of his famous ramblings. “Look, everything will work out with the move. I mean, you both want to move, right?”

“Yes and no,” Harry admitted. “Eva gets nervous about work stuff, even though she’s had an established and successful team out in LA for a few years now and has essentially delegated all of her New York office work to other people since Phoebe was born. Everything for her brand is smooth-sailing. It’s just…”

“She’s not ready to let go of New York yet,” Niall said, finishing Harry’s statement.

“I’m assuming,” Harry replied with a sigh. “And I get it, so I try not to push it. But at some point, we have to have this conversation because as of right now, my son doesn’t have a room of his own in this flat. Or really, anywhere to go in here.”

“You guys are gonna be fine,” Niall assured Harry. “Have you talked to Louis lately?”

“Erm, not in a few weeks I guess,” Harry replied. “I think Eva’s talked to El though. Why?”

“Mate, Marcus went on his first date the other night and Louis was fucking hysterical,” Niall said. “I mean, could you imagine Lou talking to Marcus about this kind of stuff? Lord help Marcus when he starts sneaking out to meet girls.”

Harry snorted, shaking his head at Niall. “God, I can’t believe Marcus is old enough to date,” Harry said. “He’s what, 13 now? And then you have Liam with Isaac who’s about 11. They’re so old.”

“We’re so old,” Niall corrected Harry. “This is what we always wanted though, right? The life after the band?”

“Absolutely,” Harry replied. He smiled at the mere thought of Eva, the way she woke up him up an hour before his alarm to help rub her calves because she had another leg cramp. She stopped being apologetic after Maddie, not that Harry ever minded in the first place. Sure, sleeping in would’ve been nice, but it also gave them an extra hour alone before the girls woke up, a rarity in their busy lives.

Catching up with Niall was always comforting, in a way. Harry had mates outside of the guys from the band, but it always felt more like being around family than anything else. To Maddie and Phoebe, they weren’t just some guys that their dad used to be in a band with. They were Uncle Niall, Uncle Liam, Uncle Lou, just as much a part of the family as their Auntie Gemma and Eva’s brothers and sister-in-laws. He reckoned that Phoebe and Maddie enjoyed seeing Niall and his kids just as much as seeing their cousins from California.

Maeve and Eva were only gone for a few hours, each toting quite a few bags when they walked back into the flat. Immediately, the four kids ran to their mums with their arms outstretched, demanding hugs as if they’d been abandoned by all parental supervision since they had left. Niall and Harry remained seated, waiting for the parade of children led by their wives came through the living room instead.

“Ah, my two favorite girls,” Niall cooed, pushing himself off of the sofa when he saw Maeve carrying Regan close to her chest in her fancy baby wrap. “Did you get me anything good?”

“As if you need anything new,” she scoffed. “I, however, don’t fit into anything anymore after this one no matter what I do, so I caved and got some new bits so I’m not wearing pajamas all day long.”

“She doesn’t mean it,” Niall whispered, kissing Regan on the top of her head, a mop of blonde wispy hair sticking up every which way. “What about you, Ev?”

“Considering I’m the size of a whale at the moment, I just got some bags and beauty bits,” she replied, rolling her eyes at Harry’s quirked brows. They had a brief conversation about downsizing a few weeks prior, one he thought would be a precursor to a serious talk about moving but ended up in a twenty-four hour long silent treatment. It ended in sobs and apologies, but it still put a sour taste in his mouth every time he went to bring up the subject again.

Maddie rushed over to Eva, tugging on the bottom of her jumper with one of her hands. “Mummy, does this mean Dylan and Emmett have to leave now?” she asked, her lips turned downwards into a dramatic frown.

“Of course not,” Eva replied. “I think Uncle Niall and Aunt Maeve are going to stay for a while longer, and they don’t leave until the end of the week sweetie.”

Harry watched his daughter’s eyes light up, immediately turning on her heel so she could barrel towards Dylan full force. She had nearly two years on him and quite a few inches, but he scurried away faster than expected, dodging her tag attempt with ease. Maeve and Niall sat side by side on the sofa across the living room, ogling at Regan while Eva attempted to get comfortable next to Harry.

With his arm draped loosely around her shoulder, he leaned down to press a kiss against her temple. “Did you have a nice time?” he asked, his voice too low to be heard across the room over their giggling kids.

“I miss Maeve so much,” Eva admitted. “I…sometimes I feel alone in New York, even if we have my whole team and the parents from school.”

“I understand,” Harry murmured, gently squeezing her shoulder for support. “I’m glad you had a good day though, you deserve it.”

“Everything went well today with Niall?”

“Of course,” Harry replied. “It’s always nice to catch up in person. Plus, the girls are loving having the boys to play with.”

“You know, Maddie told me she was in love with Alfie the other day,” Eva replied, stifling her laughter with the back of her hand. “I texted Soph immediately, it was hilarious. I think she saw their Christmas card or something when we were going through things and pointed right at Alfie and announced it.”

“Oh boy,” Harry sighed.

“If he looks like Liam did when he gets older though, I mean, I won’t blame her,” Eva said. Harry raised his brows, pushing his upper body away from her for a moment. “Don’t give me that look. Liam was hot. Maeve!”

Maeve immediately looked up, brows quirked while she waited for Eva to say something. “What’s up?”

“Wasn’t Liam super hot when you met him?”

“Just when I met him?” Maeve asked. “I mean, he’s aged just as well, if not better than David Beckham so…”

“Niall, I’m starting to think we were second choices,” Harry sighed.

Niall shrugged. “Whatever,” he said. “It paid off in the long run.”

“You weren’t my second choice, H,” Eva said, resting her head on Harry’s shoulder. “And don’t you even bring up 2016.”

Harry snickered, leaning down to press a kiss against the top of Eva’s head. “Alright love.”

#not a lot of heva in this one but i hope you enjoyed niall and harry time!#1dff #ftch #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fics #holiday 2017

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ktrsss1fics · 7 years

Text

Passionfruit.

There is a saying that says, “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

In order for something to happen in Vegas, Georgina Ferguson needed to get to Las Vegas. She should have been getting ready for brunch with the girls but she wasn’t. She was currently stuck in a window seat on an overcrowded Delta plane at LAX. They had been stuck at the gate for the past forty-five minutes. She was on her way to meet her friends to celebrate Mags’ birthday and to watch Niall perform at the iHeartRadio festival.

At that very moment, she regretted her decision to book the flight. Her original plan was to drive out after work Friday night. She could have slept on the floor in Brittany’s room and enjoyed an extra night out with her friends. The universe had other plans for her. Georgina didn’t get out of the office until half past eight. By the time she finished packing, she’d be driving through the desert in the dead of the night. Too many dangerous hypotheticals had filled her brain so she decided against it.

Since arriving back from Aruba, she tried to be more of an active participant in her social life. She tried to not let work consume her. She spent a few nights a week bouncing between the homes of her friends. Most of those nights were filled with food and laughter. On the nights she wasn’t trying to change her friends’ perception of her, Georgina was sat in a theater room with a bottle of wine and a curious puppy.

Niall’s adoption of Scout had been beneficial to the entire group. They had something to occupy their time while he was gone. Scout took day trips with Britt and Dave, stayed the weekends with Mags and Jamie, and spent the rest of her time at Georgina’s flat. The little chocolate lab was a constant reminder of their Irish best friend. Everyone tried to spend as much time with her as possible.

When the plane finally was up in the air, Georgina used her time to mentally prepare for the weekend. Her itinerary included a little bit of gambling, some fun by the pool, and a good amount of alcohol. She had no issues with those plans. She had actually been looking forward to them all week.

There was one thing that she was worried about.

It was going to be the first time she’s seen Niall since he left.

They texted every day and FaceTimed when he could but things were different. She’d get to see him in the flesh for the first time in a month and she was nervous about it.

She was nervous that things were going to be different. She was nervous that him being away would change where things were headed. She was nervous that he had found someone new.

She knew it was her insecurities poisoning her mind. She hadn’t been in this phase of a relationship in a very long time. The last time she had a serious crush on someone was when she was thirteen. The last time she wanted to get to know someone better she still had posters of Take That on her walls. She felt like the rusted Tin Man in the forest and Dorothy hadn’t found her yet.

By the time she came out of her thoughts, the plane was ready to make its final descent. She hadn’t realized how quick the flight had been. She made a mental checklist of what she needed to do as soon as she got off the plane. When she headed to baggage claim, she turned her cell phone back on. A flurry of notifications flew across the screen. There were a few messages from work and a voicemail from her mother. The rest of the notifications were from her friends giving her a hard time for being late. She watched a series of videos on Snapchat of Niall and the boys giving her a lecture. Hearing his laugh, seeing his face, and realizing in a short few hours she’d be able to be in his presence made her nerves start to fade.

Her luggage came around the conveyor belt quicker than she anticipated. She was in the middle of setting up a ride on Lyft when the llama luggage tag her brother gifted her last Christmas caught her eye. As she went to grab her bag, a text message came in. Apparently, there was a car waiting to pick her up. She was so surprised by the gesture that she didn’t pick her bag up in time. She took a deep breath as she waited for it to come around again. She needed to get it together.

With her luggage in hand, she made her way towards the exit. A dark haired man, waiting by a black town car, held a sign with her name on it. Niall always thought of everything. The man was from Texas and reminded of her father’s brother. He made a few jokes as they fought through airport traffic. She sent the girls a message letting them know she was on her way.

Jenna’s aunt had helped the group get a block of rooms at a discounted rate at the Cosmopolitan. From the pictures that were sent, the rooms were nicer than all of their homes combined. It was going to be a good time.

As the car turned onto Tropicana, a wave of electricity shot through her body.

She made it.

She was in Las Vegas and she was ready for whatever the weekend had in store.

As soon as she got to the hotel, Georgina checked in and headed straight to her room. She wanted to change out of her flight clothes and into something more comfortable before she saw her friends. She pulled out two birthday cards from her carry-on bag. The one for Mags was filled out within a few seconds. She gushed about their friendship and how much she appreciated the older sister influence Mags brought to her life. The second card was left blank.

She didn’t know what she wanted to say -- not yet at least.

She grabbed one of the wrapped gifts from her luggage and her purse before leaving the room. Almost instantly, her phone vibrated in her pocket. She had put a ban on all work business for the weekend. When Debra’s name appeared on the screen, she knew that ban was a good idea. She hit ignore as someone catcalled her from down the hall. She looked up to find Jamie standing with a smug look his face and a bucket of ice in his hand.

“Does your lady know you’re catcalling other women?” Georgina asked with an eyebrow raised.

“Ehh, she won’t mind it.” He smiled as he waited for her to catch up.

Georgina picked up her pace until she met him. They shared a brief embrace before falling in stride with one another.

“You fly the plane here yourself, Ferguson?” He teased as they stopped in front of a room.

“Feels like it.” She sighed.

“You just missed Ni.” Jamie said trying to get his room key out of his wallet. “He had to go do soundcheck or an interview or something official.”

Georgina took the ice bucket trying to help, “Oh. How was brunch?”

“Bit overpriced if you ask me.” He shrugged. “But it was nice. Right now we are trying to make a plan. The um girls were thinking about going to the pool. The lads and I were going to start drinking. You are welcome to join either group.”

“Good to know.” She smiled. “How’s she doing?”

“Countdown to thirty has already started.” He said shaking his head.

“Is she mad I missed brunch?” Georgina asked slightly worried.

Jamie looked surprised. “No way. She totally understands. She had a meltdown Wednesday night because she didn’t think she’d get everything done on Thursday. Work comes first.”

“I feel so guilty.” She sighed. “I’ve been doing good lately. I just don’t want you guys to go back to disliking me because I work all the time.”

“Fergie, you need to cut yourself some slack. You’re doing your best and it shows. No one hates you.” He said stroking her back gently. “No one ever has.”

“But in Aruba…” She started to say but stopped when he turned to open the door.

“That was Keith being a twat.” Jamie shook his head. “We might give you shit but it’s because we love ya.”

Georgina faked a smile stepping inside the room, “If you say so James.”

“Who’s there?” Brittany’s distinct voice called out as she leaned towards the door. “Hey babe!”

“Fergie!” Mags squealed as she stepped out of the bathroom.

The two women pulled each other into a tight embrace.

“I’m so sorry I missed it.” She whispered in the older girl’s ear.

“Hush! You’re alright love.” Mags squeezed her a little tighter. “Didn’t miss much.”

“First rounds on me tonight, yeah?” Georgina said as she pulled away.

“Not gonna argue with that.” Mags winked before motioning towards the bar. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks.” She smiled before handing over the gift. “Happy Birthday!”

While Mags read her card, Georgina walked around the room greeting the rest of her friends. Brittany had gotten up to refill her drink. She filled up an extra flute of champagne and handed it to her best friend. Georgina placed a kiss on her as a sign of gratitude.

“Flight from hell?” Brittany asked with a laugh.

“You have no idea.” Georgina said taking a small sip from her glass.

“Did ya have a fucking layover in Wolvo or what?” Dave teased bringing over a container of orange juice for the blonde to add to her drink.

She put out her glass for him to fill. “It feels like it.”

“What took so long?” He asked topping it off.

Georgina tapped her glass against his as a thank you.

“Apparently, planes need fuel to fly.” She said dryly.

“You don’t say.” He replied in a faux posh accent.

“Shocking, I know.” She replied mimicking his tone.

“Ferguson, I love you!” Mags called from the room caressing a bottle of sherry.

“Love you too, Sister Mary Margaret.” Georgina teased making everyone in the room laugh.

“Who wants Bristol Cream?” Mags called out opening the bottle.

Brittany got up and headed across the room to fill up another cup.

Georgina felt Dave move closer to her. He raised his drink to cover his mouth but she couldn't understand what he was trying to say. He scanned the room. No one would notice if they slipped out onto the balcony.

Dave nodded towards the door and made his way outside. Georgina followed behind him. Once outside, she sat down on the chair in the corner. Her eyes trailed off to the sun soaked Strip as he sat down beside her.

Dave sipped on his beer slowly. Georgina took her eyes off the road and focused on him.

“What's up?” She asked nudging his leg.

“He's nervous.” He said keeping his eyes on the street.

It took a moment for Georgina to realize who he was referring to. Once she did, she didn't know how to respond.

“He's like really nervous.” He repeated.

“I would be too.” She stated deciding to play it cool. “I mean two performances in one day and all those people to sing too.”

“No babe. He's not nervous about that.” Dave said turning his attention to her. “He's done all that before. He’s used to playing massive crowds. He's nervous because he's going to be performing for you.”

She tried her best to fight off the blush that wanted so badly to form. “What?”

“You haven't seen him solo yet. He's worried he's not going to impress you.” Dave smiled.

“How do you know that?” She asked shyly.

“Told me during our cuddle this morning.” Dave said placing a hand on her leg.

Georgina’s face lit up. “Your what?”

“Britt went to Jenna’s room to help her with her hair so we just had a little cuddle and talked about the day.” Dave explained. “He just mentioned he was a bit worried that you wouldn't like it. You're the last one of the group to see him perform.”

She couldn't help but smile. Niall Horan was probably the sweetest boy she'd ever met. He always wanted to please his friends. He was such a perfectionist. If one of them wasn't pleased with something, he would try his best to fix it. He wanted them to like his music and so far he had succeeded.

Dave squeezed her leg, “Are you two together?”

She shook her head finishing off her glass. His straightforward approach took her by surprise.

“Really? He's more smitten than usual.” Dave said surprised. “I figured maybe you came to your senses.”

“We’re just friends.” She said glancing up at him.

Dave nodded. “Oh.”

“But like not like before. Like actual friends.” Georgina admitted softly.

“So you aren't being a dick to him anymore, that's good to know.” He teased making her blush. “That's probably why he's a lot happier.”

“He uh cares a lot. I couldn't do that to him.” She admitted. “I mean he's Marcus but he's not Marcus, ya know?”

Dave looked confused before it hit him. “Fuck. He's Marcus.”

She nodded slowly. “That's why I hated him.”

“But he's like top shelf Marcus,” Dave replied. “Like top shelf top class non-cheating Marcus.”

“So basically he’s not Marcus. He’s Niall.” She laughed making him smile.

“Yeah. Niall’s Niall.” Dave said.

“The reason I was looking for him that day was because I felt bad for being mean to him.” She explained. “Our last dinner in Aruba made me realize everyone thinks I'm a bitch so I've been trying to fix it.”

Dave rolled his eyes. “Fuck Keith. His opinion doesn't matter.”

“Yeah well it put things into perspective.” She sighed. “So when I couldn't find him, I thought he left for Ireland already and I had been mean to him so I wanted to fix things.”

“And you fixed them. Kid still thinks you shit rainbows and butterflies.” Dave teased.

Georgina shoved him playfully. “Fuck off.”

He leaned in close and lowered his voice. “I didn't tell Britt and I won't tell her about this either.”

“Why not?” She asked watching him finish off his drink.

He shrugged. “Like keeping secrets with you.”

“Just like primary school.” Georgina said patting his leg. “Never did tell Britt you had a crush on her.”

“No but fucking Sophie did.” He grumbled.

“Can't say anything around the women in that family unless you want everyone to know it.” Georgina said as the balcony door opened.

“You convince her to make out with Ni, yet?” Mags asked with a smirk.

Dave’s eyes lit up as he scanned between the two women. “What?”

“Nothing!” They sang in unison.

He narrowed his eyes at them. “Don’t believe ya. I’ll be keepin’ my eyes on you two today.”

Mags rolled her eyes dramatically. “Wastin’ your time love.”

“It’s girl talk.” Georgina said patting his leg. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Fergie Ferg, we are going shopping at Caesars.” Mags said. “Wanna come?”

“Sure.” She smiled as she stood up.

“Georgina, if you want to make out with him, he’d let you.” Dave said patting her leg as she walked past him.

Mags and the rest of the girls started laughing loudly. Heat rushed to Georgina’s cheeks.

“Oh fuck off, all of ya.” She rolled her eyes as she headed inside.

The best thing about Las Vegas is the mentality that rules don't matter. What happens there, stays there. The possibilities are endless. A person can openly drink a cocktail, smoke a cigarette and gamble all while waiting for their morning breakfast. Naked women are sprawled across the streets of the Strip while men from Australia strip for bachelorette parties full of intoxicated women. Buffets of surf, turf, and everything in between are accessible twenty-four hours a day. Alcohol is served in bowls, pyramids, and even the Eiffel Tower. It's every wild child’s paradise.

Georgina was trying her best to live up to that wild child persona. So far she had won fifty dollars playing roulette, bought a Celine Dion shirt for her mother, and watched Mags spend too much money on a pair of shoes. She even splurged on some Taco Bell on the way to the arena where the concert was being held. She was already enjoying this trip a lot more than the last time she was in Sin City -- and she hadn't even seen Niall yet.

She felt good and that in itself felt good.

She currently stood beside Jenna in an overcrowded line at a concession stand. Britt and Mags were right behind them. The boys had sent them on a beer run. They were only a few songs away from when Niall was due on stage and the boys wanted to do a celebratory toast in his honor.

Georgina couldn't deny that she was a bit nervous. The fear of the unknown was always something she struggled with. Being that this was the first time she'd get to see Niall by himself, she didn't know what to expect. She knew he was a great performer. But he wasn't going to have those four moving parts around him and that was a scary thought. The rest of their friends had already seen him perform on more than one occasion. They made it to Wango Tango, they caravanned down to see him in San Diego, they made the trip out to be at Summertime Ball, and they scheduled their life around the LA date of his current tour.

She couldn't do that. Her job wouldn't allow it.

She fit a tinge of guilt when she thought about watching him sing. It had nearly been a year since he released his first solo single and she hadn't taken the time to see him sing it live. She knew that he understood. Her work schedule was hard to plan around. But there was something inside her that made her feel like a terrible friend for waiting so long.

That's part of the reason why she needed to get her hand on a pint before he came on stage. She needed something to calm her nerves.

By the time the girls got back to their seats, Ryan Seacrest took the stage to amp up the crowd before announcing who the next act was. As soon as Ireland left his lips, it was pretty obvious who it was going to be.

A boisterous chant began as the lights went out. High pitched squeals and mind-numbing screams filled the air. The lights went out. A drum beat started to play as Georgina held her breath.

This was it. The moment she was waiting for.

By the time the rest of the band kicked in, a spotlight shone brightly on center stage. A charismatic boy from the midlands of Ireland stood with a guitar and a beaming smile on his face. As soon as the first note left his lips, Georgina and the group of women standing in front of her were done for. They had perfect reason to be. His voice sounded even better in person.

Two songs in, Georgina almost couldn’t believe her eyes. Niall Horan was the ultimate performer. The way he moved around the stage and interacted with the audience was electric. His dedication to his craft was admirable. Everyone in the stadium could tell that he genuinely loved what he was doing. He had grown so much since she’d seen him last. He wasn’t just the fourth member of a boy band. He was a confident (and incredibly sexy) independent artist with a story to tell. She watched the group of women in front of her melt over the boy who was so drunk at Jamie’s 30th that he sang a potted plant to sleep.

His set was short but the songs he chose were memorable.With one song left, Niall rested an arm on his mic stand while taking a sip from a bottle of water. The cameraman focused in on his face. A mischievous glint shone in his eye. That look was infamous amongst the group -- especially was booze was involved. Georgina didn’t know what was about to happen but she knew it was going to be good.

Niall grabbed the mic off the stand and put the bottle on the floor. “Oi Vegas!”

The crowd cheered in response.

“Mr. Cameraman, can you put the camera on the spot that we discussed earlier?�� He asked with a smile.

Georgina watched as the camera scanned the crowd. It wasn’t long until her face was being projected across the jumbo screen. Brittany and Dave erupted into laughter.

“Oh look it’s Fergie! Hey Ferg.” Niall cheered into the mic.

Her eyes went wide as all eyes focused on her. She raised her pint in front of her face trying to hide but it didn’t work. Niall’s infamous laugh erupted loudly through the sound system. Georgina shook her head. She could feel her entire body getting warm from the attention.

“Why ya – why ya shakin’ your head at me? Is it the attention? Am I embarassin’ ya?” He asked with a cheeky grin. “If any of you want to know any facts about flowers, Fergie’s your girl.”

Georgina casually flipped him off making the rest of her friends laugh. The group of women in front of her were quick to shoot dirty looks in her direction but she didn’t care. Niall was proving that things were going to be fine between them.

The smile on Niall’s face grew even bigger. “Fat Tuesday later?”

Wolf whistles escaped the lips of Jamie and Dave causing Georgina’s skin to grow pink.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He winked. He cleared his throat. “Anyways, we have to go over one more person. Op! There were go. Ladies and gentlemen, this is my friend Mags.”

Maggie dramatically took a bow making him laugh.

“Today is her twenty-ninth birthday.” He said making the crowd scream.

“You see the handsome devil on her left? That’s her fella Jamie.” Niall explained. “When the last song I’m gonna play tonight first came out, he was obsessed with it.”

“What is he doing?” Mags asked not knowing what was going on.

“Sang it in the shower, at the gym, on his way to work.” Niall laughed looking directly at his friend. “He sang it so much that little Miss Mags banned him from singin’ it.”

He jutted out his hip and started to mimic Mags’ accent. “If you aren’t Niall, you aren’t singin’ it.”

His entire group of friends keeled over in laughter. His impression was spot on.

“Anyways, if it’s alright with Miss Margaret, the last song of the night will be a little tune called ‘This Town’.” Niall said with a smile. “Is that alright with the Birthday Girl?”

The small brunette sent a double thumbs up towards the stage. The crowd cheered happily.

With a nod of his head, Niall placed the mic back on his stand as his drummer counted him in. The folky song about falling in love in a small town engrossed the audience. Brittany linked her arm around Georgina’s as a soft sing-along took form.

Jamie started off the song in perfect sync with Niall. By the time chorus came around for a second time, his singing stopped. No one really noticed though. No one saw him pull a box out of his pocket and get down on one knee. Mags gave him a confused look as he tugged on her hand. He started to speak but the sounds of the crowd made it hard to hear.

He realized his plan wasn’t working so he put a new one into place. This caught the eye of everyone around them. Tears formed in the eyes of Georgina and Brittany as they saw what was happening. Jamie opened the box to reveal a large diamond ring.

Without a second thought, Mags agreed. Jamie stood up and pulled her into his arms. A sweet embrace was shared between the newly engaged couple as the song came to an end. Niall peered into the crowd looking for his friends. Before thanking everyone for watching his play, he called out Jamie’s name hoping for good news. The cameraman panned the crowd until their group appeared once. Mags held up her hand showing off the ring that had just been put on. With a large smile on his face, Niall let out a small cheer before hopping off stage.

The lights went out and everyone prepared for the next performer to come on stage. Jenna worked her way over to the other girls. She pulled them into a group hug. Congratulatory kisses were placed across Mags’ face as her ring was inspected. They couldn’t believe what just happened. Their friends were engaged and the entire world got to see it.

Before the next performer went on, Georgina and the gang headed back to the hotel. They grabbed a few boxed meals from Taco Bell and a couple bottles of alcohol on their way up to Jamie and Mags’ room. A feast fit for a frat house commenced as they waited for Niall to join.

“Jim Jam, you take a loan out for that rock?” Georgina asked taking a sip of her mixed drink.

“I know Daddy Warbucks.” Jenna joked patting his back.

“Very funny.” Jamie rolled his eyes. “It was six months of overtime actually.”

“It’s stunning.” Brittany said grabbing Mags’ hand. “Absolutely stunning.”

“Way to put the pressure on mate.” Dave said. “We’ve got to compete with an entire planet.”

“Size shouldn’t matter.” Georgina said.

“We’ll uh let Ni know you think that.” Mags winked making the other girls laugh.

Heat rushed to Georgina’s cheeks as the boys started to join in on the teasing.

“I mean we aren’t sayin’ that’s an issue with him but uh it’s nice to know, right?” Keith said.

“Why do you guys always get naked together?” Brittany rolled her eyes.

Dave shook his head. “What we do by ourselves is none of your business.”

“You are all idiots.” Georgina said as a knock came to the door.

“Yeah yeah but you love us.” Jamie said as he left to answer it.

Standing with two magnum bottles of champagne and an excited look on his face was the group’s favorite Irishman.

“Nialler!” Brittany and Jenna cheered as he stepped inside.

Mags made her way towards him. “You are a little shit Niall Horan.”

“You loved every second of it..” Niall said with arms wide open.

“You’re right.” She whispered pulling him in for a hug. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

“Congratulations babe.” He said placing a kiss on her cheek.

“Let’s get those bottles opened.” Keith said getting plastic cups ready.

Niall handed the bottles over before going around the room saying hello and thanking his friends for coming to see him play. With a half eaten taco in her hand, Georgina watched Niall joke around with Dave. He looked happy -- like genuinely happy -- and that made her happy.

He casually slipped away from Dave and made his way towards her. She put down her food and stood up from her spot on the couch. The light in his baby blue eyes grew a little brighter as he saw the smile on her face. He opened his mouth to thank her for coming but she stopped him.

“You’re a little shit Horan.” Georgina said shaking her head.

Niall just laughed before pulling her into his arms. She sighed as he held her close.

He whispered in her ear, “Have I fucking missed you…”

“Can’t say the same.” She said as he tightened his grip on her.

Niall pulled his head away from her confused. “Why?”

Georgina stood back and hit him in the arm. “Four fucking people asked me for flower facts before we left!”

Niall giggled trying to defend himself from her. “Fergie! I’m sorry. I thought I was bein’ funny.”

“You do know a lot about flowers, G.” Brittany said eavesdropping.

“Yeah well that doesn’t mean the whole world needs to know.” She said shyly.

“Ferg, you bring those black heels for me?” Jenna asked from across the room.

Georgina turned her attention towards her friend. “Yeah have ‘em in me room.”

“I need them before we leave.” She said taking a sip of her champagne.

“What are we gonna do?” Jamie asked. “Like what’s the game plan?”

“First we are going to toast to the happy couple.” Dave said raising his cup in the air.

“Oi oi!” Niall said slinging an arm around Georgina’s shoulder.

“Out of all of us, we knew it’d be you two first. Congratulations to Jamie and Mags.” Brittany said as the rest of the group finished their drinks.

“Now that that’s taken care of, we need to get fucked up.” Dave said casually. “Only logical.”

“Why don’t the ladies get ready while us men head downstairs and pillage the tables?” Jamie suggested.

“Sounds good to me.” Mags nodded. “Ferg, did you bring your big curling iron?”

“Yeah in me room.” She said. “And Britt, I brought the lipstick you asked for.”

“Girls trip to Ferg’s room.” Jenna said heading for the door. “Bye boys.”

Georgina turned towards Niall. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Ni, you gonna come with us?” Dave asked as the rest of the girls made their way to the door.

“I need to get a quick shower in first. Kinda sweaty and need to calm down after all that.” Niall said. “But I’ll meet you down there when I’m done.”

“Sounds good. We’ll see ya there mate.” Jamie said. “You two change your shit and let’s go.”

The group headed their separate ways. The boys got dressed and headed down to have a few cigars at the bar. The girls made their way to Georgina’s room in search of things they needed to get ready. When she opened the door, a surprise was waiting for her.

Sitting on the dresser near the television was a gorgeous floral arrangement.

The group of women couldn’t believe it. These weren’t the run of the mill arrangements bought at the farmer’s market. These were top-dollar boutique flowers. Georgina had a feeling about who they came from but she didn’t want to get her hopes up.

“What the fuck?” Mags whispered. “Georgina! Who are they from?”

“There’s no note.” Georgina said smelling them.

“You’ve got a secret admirer, G.” Brittany nudged her.

“I wonder who they’re from.” Jenna said touching a few of the petals.

Georgina turned to look at her friends. “You guys did this. Didn’t you?”

Jenna, Mags, and Brittany looked at her confused.

“If this is you three sending these pretending to be Niall so I will make out with him, I swear to God I’m going to lose my shit.” Georgina said with a sigh.

Mags cackled loudly, “That would be fuckin’ brilliant.”

“If we were pretending to be The Baby, we’d leave a note.” Jenna said crossing her arms over her chest.

“And we wouldn’t spend this much money on ya.” Brittany winked.

Georgina rolled her eyes. “You three are such bitches sometimes.”

“We are only jokin’ babe. Bit of banter.” Mags said softly. “We love ya too much to be that cruel.”

Georgina’s cheeks grew a little warm. Maybe there were from Niall after all.

“Maybe there were for Mags and they got delivered to the wrong room.” Jenna suggested.

“Or it could be that new guy at work. What’s his name Ferg? Nasty Nate?” Brittany asked.

“Nathaniel?” Georgina said running a hand over the top of the arrangement. “I hope not.”

“What if it was Marcus?” Brittany teased.

“You can fuck right off Brittany Anne.” Georgina glared.

“I'm only joking. He wouldn't be able to afford anything this nice.” Brittany said heading towards Georgina’s luggage.

“Whoever sent it has good taste.” Jenna sighed.

“Why ya sighin?” Georgina asked stroking Jenna’s back lovingly.

“Just bein’ a jealous sad sap.” Jenna shrugged. “I think I need to get drunk.”

“That's our cue to get this show on the road.” Mags said linking her fingers with Jenna’s.

Brittany grabbed everything Georgina had brought for her friends. “Thanks for this babe.”

“Yeah no worries. Are we meeting back at Mags?” She asked heading for her bag.

Mags nodded. “Whenever you're ready.”

“Brilliant. See you then.” Georgina said as her friends headed back to their own rooms.

She barely got a shower in when a knock came to her door. With a toothbrush in her mouth and a towel on her head, she answered it. Standing in a button up shirt and a nice pair of nice jeans was a very tired looking Niall Horan. His hair was freshly tousled and his cologne was doing its best to reel her in.

“Sorry, your kind isn't allowed round these parts.” She said dryly.

“Why's that?” He asked shoving his hands in his pockets.

Georgina shrugged. “Don't really like your face.”

Niall rolled his eyes and walked past her. She headed back into the bathroom to finish brushing her teeth.

“Why aren't you going down with the boys?” She asked before splashing water on her face.

“Just wanted a few minutes to myself.” He called back from the other room.

“But you aren't --” She mumbled into the towel she was using to dry herself.

“You know what I mean Ferg.” He sighed.

“You spent too much time with them already.” She called back as she plugged in her hair dryer.

“Kinda. Just needed some time to regroup after all the chaos of today.” He explained.

“Understandable.” She said throwing her wet towel on the floor. “Not gonna be able to hear you for a bit so don't say anything important.”

“Won’t profess me undying love for you, don't worry.” He mumbled dryly.

Georgina rolled her eyes as she ran a comb through her hair.

He was such a little shit.

As he waited to spend some time with the one girl he’d been missing the most, Niall laid down on her bed and closed his eyes. It wasn’t even ten o'clock yet and the pop star wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. The past week was finally catching up to him -- the anticipation of seeing his friends, the excitement of performing in front of that large of a crowd, the travel, the night of drinking the night before. It was all too much for the twenty-four year old.

He needed a recharge but he knew it wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

They were in Vegas after all.

They were in Vegas. He really couldn’t believe it. He had been waiting for this day since he left for tour. They were finally reunited, even if it was for a night. Just knowing Fergie was going to be in the same vicinity as him boosted morale.

Georgina had unfortunately missed his show in LA. He knew she tried her best to be there but as usual her job got in the way. He was disappointed but there was a small part of him that was relieved. The amount of pressure he had put on himself to be perfect was ridiculous. The amount of pressure he put on himself to be perfect for Georgina was even worse.

He wanted her to like him. He wanted her to like his performance, his songs, his stage persona. She had always been a tough critic. Unlike their friends, she’d tell him the truth no matter how much it hurt. In the industry he was in, he needed those type of people in his life.

When he heard the dryer turn off, he knew he had two options. He could get up and be proactive about finding out her opinion or he could wait for her to come to him. He chose the latter.

“Ni?” Georgina called from the bathroom. “Do you know what clubs we are going to?”

“Omnia, I think.” He said trying to remember if the girls had said something earlier. “Maybe XS.”

“Hopefully not Hakkasan.” She said quietly.

The corners up his lips turned up into a smile. “Why not?”

“Niall Horan, you know the answer to that!” She exclaimed.

“Fergie, everyone’s forgot about that.” He laughed. “No one even saw you fall.”

“Clearly, that’s a lie!” She said stepping out of the bathroom.

“I know it is.” He laughed.”But I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Alright Mr. Life of the Party.” Georgina teased. She smiled at the sight she saw. He was curled up in a ball ready to fall asleep.

“You like the flowers? I did some research and did you know that striped carnations--” He started to say.

Georgina quickly interjected. “Mean I miss you.”

“Of course you knew that.” He mumbled shyly.

“Thanks for not including a card.” She said sitting beside him on the bed. “Sherlock, Watson, and Agatha were havin’ a field day trying to figure out who they were from.”

A deep belly laugh escaped his lips as he opened his eyes, “Really?”

Georgina nodded. “I tried to make them feel bad by saying they sent them as a way to convince me to make out with you.”

“Why is the thought of us making out such a horrible idea?” He asked softly.

She shook her head before laying down beside him. His arm immediately pulled her closer.

“Us making out isn’t the issue.” She whispered. “It’s doing it in front of them.”

“We’d get shit for days.” He sighed kissing her forehead. “I know baby girl, I know.”

Georgina sighed nuzzing into his neck. “Let’s take a nap.”

“You’re supposed to be the disciplined one.” He whined.

“We can take twenty minutes.” She yawned. “Then you need to leave and go be a lad.”

“I want to be the old man of the group.” Niall yawned in return closing his eyes.

“You can’t. You’re the baby.” She said. “Speaking of, I got you a gift. You want it now?”

“There isn’t enough time for a nap and a blow job, love.” He deadpanned.

“Fine.” She grumbled in mock annoyance.

He peered out of one eye, “Wait, are you being serious?”

“You rejected my offer so the world will never know.” She smirked.

Niall leaned forward and placed his lips to hers, “You’re a brat Ferguson.”

She didn’t say anything. She just leaned in a little closer and kissed him.

This was the kiss that they had been waiting for. The kiss that had been building since the day that he left. The kiss that savored good morning snaps and good night texts. The kiss that had been on his mind all morning. The kiss that she had been wanting to give the moment she saw his face.The kiss that sent a shock through his entire body and woke him up.

He snaked his hand through her hair holding onto the back of her neck. The slow and intimate kiss turned into a few quick pecks as his lower lip got caught between her teeth. He took this as a sign. In one fell swoop, Georgina was on her back and his body was rested on top of hers.

The sexual frustration that had built up was finally being released. His hand made its way down to her hip. He held on tight. He was going to appreciate every inch of her body while he got the chance. As his lips worked against hers, she arched her back pressing herself against him.

It happened quickly. Flesh was bitten, a few moans escaped, and as soon as she felt his hardened member press against her, she knew it was on. Her hands slid down his midsection heading for his belt. It wasn’t until she got it undone that he pulled away.

“Ferg.” He panted. “We-we can’t.”

Georgina sighed. “I know.”

Niall nudged her nose with his own. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She mumbled into his lips. “Was fun while it lasted.”

He peeled himself off of her and rolled onto his back. A deep rooted sigh left his lips.

She patted his stomach gently. “Night’s still young kid.”

“Yeah but Jamie is going to want to get obliterated.” He said as she rested her head on his chest. “And that means it’ll be a no-go.”

“Just ‘cause they are doesn’t mean you have to.” She said looking up at him.

“Right.” He said sarcastically. “Like that’ll work.”

“Well I’m not going to drink that much.” She declared.

“Like that’s going to work, love.” He tickled her playfully.

“Stop.” She giggled. “Niall! Stop.”

He interlocked her fingers with his.

“I’m just gonna blame it on work.” Niall decided. “Which isn’t lying. I can’t drink that much.”

“Don't forget you owe me a drink from Fat Tuesday.” Georgina whispered.

“I know.” He kissed her forehead. “Maybe two.”

“Ooh, someone’s doin’ well for ‘imself.” She quipped in a posh accent.

He blushed. “Fuck off Georgina.”

“Niall Horan, I will deny this if you ever bring it up in front of anyone but I’ve missed this.” She admitted looking up at him. “A lot.”

“Missed what?” He asked.

“This.” She motioned towards the two of them. “The banter. Hangin’ with ya. Us.”

“So really you just missed making fun of me? That’s real great Ferg.” He rolled his eyes.

Georgina nuzzled into his neck. “Can you please say that again in your whiny voice?”

Niall squeezed her hand gently. “I think I hear Davey callin’ me.”

“Hey! Don't go.” Georgina pouted. “I was only joking.”

“Stop being so cute. It’s gonna make leaving even worse.” He sighed.

“No.” She said fiddling with one of his fingers. “Not allowed to talk about that yet.”

“Well what do you want to talk about then?” He yawned.

“The fact that you’re a bloody magician.” She said softly.

“How so?” He asked confused.

“You can go from Mr. Chill Irish Man Child who’s all about golf and Guinness and making your friends drive all the way to your house because you don’t want to ever leave it...” She said dryly.

He just laughed at her backhanded compliment.

“...to Mr. Charismatic Musician on stage. It’s quite impressive.” Georgina admitted.

“Trust me it’s taken years of practice.” Niall said.

“Well it shows.” She said running her fingers around one of the buttons.

The room got quiet. Niall ran through different ways of asking the same question. He didn’t know how to approach it. Lucky for him, Georgina already had the answer he was looking for.

“So you know that I liked when you were in the band. Those guys were great -- especially Louis.” Georgina paused. “But I like you by yourself so much better.”

His skin grew warm. “Really?”

“Yeah, it just... fits you so much more.” She explained. “It’s so you.”

“Ye-yeah?” He stuttered before clearing his throat. “You think so?”

“You were worried for nothing. I was thoroughly impressed.” She whispered making his cheeks turn pink. “The song from Aruba is even better live, in case you were wondering.”

“Thank you.” He smiled. “That means a lot.”

The room grew quiet. Niall revelled in the fact that she actually enjoyed the show he put on. She liked his show. She liked his music. She liked him. That made all the pressure he had put on himself to be perfect worth it.

“So um what are you gonna do with those rugs when tours over?” She asked trying to be as casual as possible.

“Nice try, weirdo.” Niall laughed knowing where she was going.

“What the fuck? First it’s the chair in Aruba and now the rugs, why can’t you let me have nice things?” She whined playfully.

“If I let you have those things, then how will I get you to come over to my place? I know the chair is a prime selling point for all friend functions at my house.” He said softly.

“Hmm...you do have a point.” She said in a teasing tone.

“That's just plain rude.” Niall flicked her shoulder.

“You've got Scout and I've grown accustom to watching Project Runway in that theater of yours.” She said with a smile. “So I think you can give up the chair already.”

“Speaking of Scout, how's the ol’ girl?” Niall asked interested.

“She’s fabulous. She's spending the night at Keith’s. His roommate Phil is watching her.” Georgina explained. “She's really loving puppy school. Bit of a class clown -- just like Dad.”

“How are my other children?” He asked nervously.

“Everything but the bougainvillea is dead.” She said with a voice full of sorrow.

Niall wasn't buying it. He let got of her hand quickly, “You are shit at lying.”

“Fine.” She sighed. “They are all alive and accounted for.”

“Your mum was right about you.” He mumbled as he took a strand of her hair between his fingers.

“What was she right about?” She asked glaring at him.

“You're a major pain in the arse.” Niall explained.

“I don't like the fact that you hung out with my mum in London.” She said embarrassed. “It's not very fair -- you two ganging up on me ‘n that.”

“S’been four years of absolute shit from you. I needed to bring in reinforcements.” Niall said.

“She thinks you two are proper mates.” She looked up at him. “Every conversation after the London show has ended with ‘our boy Niall.’ She always has remind me to remind you to take your vitamins and get your rest. You might be young but sleep is important.”

“I love Mama Ferguson.” Niall smiled.

“She really appreciated you inviting her. As cringey as this might be, Slow Hands is her favorite song now.” She said shyly.

“A lot of the older ones like that song.” Niall blushed.

“Fit young boy singing about sex...hmm I wonder why they would like it.” She said dryly.

“Didn't ask for that sass, Ferg.” He mumbled.

Georgina sat up slowly, “My deepest apologies.”

His phone started to ring in his pocket. Georgina knew what it meant. She got up off the bed and headed for her bag. Niall answered the call and quietly talked to Dave about where to meet.

“I'll be down in five.” He said as he watched her walk towards him with a gift in her hand.

“Don’t read the card while I’m in the room. I was a little bit buzzed while I wrote it so I’m sorry if it doesn’t make any sense.” She blushed handing him his present.

“You know you didn’t have to get me anything.” Niall said holding onto the bag.

Georgina just rolled her eyes and motioned with her hand to open it.

His eyes lit up as he pulled out a massive book. It was an encyclopedia of every plant species in existence. He skimmed through it and couldn’t believe his eyes. Color photographs and paragraphs of information of plants from all around the globe covered the pages.

“It’s the latest version. I figured it’d be something fun to read on the road.” She said shyly.

“This is amazing Fergie.” He said glancing up at her.

“I saw it and thought of you.” She said tucking some hair behind her ear.

“I absolutely love it.” Niall said standing up. He kissed her. “I really, really do.”

“Good.” She smiled. “What’d Davey say?”

“They are going to go play a game of poker and they want me to join.” He sighed.

Georgina nodded. “I need to get ready anyways.”

“Want me to open this now?” He asked reaching for the card.

“Up to you.” She said before nodding towards the bathroom. “I’ll be in there.”

Niall sat back down on the bed as she walked into the bathroom. He slowly opened the orange envelope and pulled out a card. A birthday pun covered the front. As he read what she wrote on the inside, his eyes got a bit glassy. The words that she wrote were the words he needed to hear.

Niall always felt bad when he had to leave his friends for tour. But this time around was the first time he actually felt guilty for it. The day he left Los Angeles was probably one of the worst days he has ever had. The look on her face as he left her flat was etched in his memory. It always found a way to make an appearance on the nights he felt the most alone.

He felt so bad for leaving her. She was just discovering her feelings for him. She was finally allowing herself to open up and be vulnerable. She was finally letting him in and he just left. Niall didn’t want her to resent him for leaving. He didn’t need Fergie regretting her decision.

The words that she wrote made everything okay. He didn’t need to hold her hand through this. She was doing fine on her own.

He read the paragraph once more trying to soak up everything she had said. He deserved to be happy. He deserved to be touring the world doing something he loved. He didn’t need to worry because she was going to be there for him when he got home. This small sign of reassurance had refilled his tank and he knew the next couple months were going to be just fine.

He got off the bed and walked into the bathroom. She had a curling iron attached to her hair. Noticing his presence, she let the strand of hair fall. Turning towards him, she noticed his baby blue eyes were a bit shiny. Before she could ask what was wrong, the young man engulfed her in a hug. He didn’t say a single word. He just held her tight.

This was the hug she had needed since the day he left. The hug that told her everything was going to be alright. The hug that was more important than sex or making out or holding hands. The hug that meant they were going to make it through the next few months unscathed. The hug that showed how he really felt. The hug that was going to hold them together until they were reunited again.

“I know if this goes further, it’s not going to be easy.” He whispered in her ear. “My job, your job, our friends, the public… but just trust me when I say this... it’s going to be worth it.”

“I know.” She whispered back. “I’m ready for it.”

#1dff #niall horan fanfiction #pf #fergie and niall

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