You watched from your seat at one of the many tables that lined the dance floor as a multitude of couples danced to the loud music blaring from the speakers. Your senior prom was in full swing, and while everyone was laughing and having a great night, you were sitting away from the crowd, zoning in and out of consciousness as your gaze landed on your ex boyfriend, dancing with his date for the night.
“Are you cold?”
The voice of your current boyfriend, Marcus, brought you back to reality. He had his coat outstretched to you, awaiting your reply.
“Huh? Oh, no I’m okay Marcus, but thank you. I would love a drink though”
“Sure thing, I’ll be right back!”
Poor thing, you thought. Marcus was a sweetheart, more so now that he was even willing to accompany you to your prom, despite being a few years older than you and well into college. You started dating him fairly soon after you and Harry broke up four months ago, and has been a great boyfriend in every way–the only problem was, he wasn’t Harry.
You and Harry had only been together for six months, but you tortured each other ever since. Heated glances from across the classroom, being put in the same groups for presentations, ending up at the same parties–no matter how much you wanted to keep your distance from him, he was always there. You were head over heels in love with him, and was devastated when he broke up with you, claiming he wanted to “focus on school” or his job or whatever excuse he gave. Still to this day you never knew why he ended it, but it broke your heart. Since then it seemed that your feelings for him never stopped, despite him dating girl after girl in the months since and you meeting Marcus. Marcus was a needed distraction from Harry-–the only problem was, he wasn’t distracting enough.
Your eyes found Harry and his new girl, Sarah, swaying to one of the slower songs the DJ played occasionally throughout the night. From the corner of your eye you could see Marcus coming back with two drinks in hand, one for him and one for you. Just as Marcus got to your table, Harry’s eyes met yours in an intense stare. As much as you wanted to look away, his eyes were almost daring you to stay on his. His eyes scanned your frame as he pulled Sarah even closer to him, her back facing you as they slowly swayed to the music. It was clear they were having a conversation, because you could see him smile at something she said, but his eyes never left yours. You felt a chill go down your spine at the feeling of being watched so intently and you shifted slightly in your seat, unsure of what to do. Fortunately, Marcus made the decision for you, as you were the first to break the stare when you felt a light tap on your shoulder.
“Here’s that drink, did you want to dance at all tonight?”
You felt bad for him, as you had been sitting most of the night. Dances weren’t really your style. Your feet would always hurt, and there were always so many people on the dance floor that your claustrophobia would inevitably kick in. You only went to dances to socialize with your friends, but tonight your friends were out on the dance floor with their dates, likely capitalizing on their last prom before they graduate. Your eyes flitted to where Harry was but he was walking off the dance floor and making his way to the DJ, probably to request some song Sarah wanted to hear.
“Sure, let’s go.” You took a final swig of your drink before leaving the table and making your way to the dance floor.
Finding a space between the other couples, you and Marcus began to sway with the music, his hands on your hips and yours around his neck. Yet again, as if he was haunting you, Harry and Sarah were right behind Marcus, and your eyes found his green ones once more. It almost seemed like he was angry with you with how intense his eyes seemed, but when his eyes moved down to your chest you realized it was not anger but longing. Suddenly the room felt very hot as you tried valiantly to listen to whatever Marcus was saying to you, something about his friend from work maybe? You had stopped listening long ago. You looked down to take in Harry’s black suit, with the buttons of his white collared shirt underneath slightly undone to reveal his staple gold cross necklace. You were just beginning to make out the twin swallow tattoos on his chest—the same ones you went with him to get immediately after he turned 18—when a new song started that had you frozen in place.
It was your song. The song he played for you every time he took you home from school. The song he played during your car makeout sessions. The song he played when you failed your math test and cried in his arms. It was the very same song playing in the background when he told you he loved you for the first time.
You felt incredibly overwhelmed now, and as your mind was racing with the bittersweet memories this song brought back to you, you noticed Harry leave a very confused Sarah and make his way over to where you and Marcus were. It was almost as if Harry forgot about Marcus’s existence completely when he approached you and lightly grabbed your arm and without saying a word, pulled you from Marcus, and pulled you tightly into his arms. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it was a wonder you were still able to stand up.
Your hands wrapped around his neck as his arms held your hips impossibly close to his own. His eyes seemed to bore into your soul, and as the song carried on, his eyes flicked down to your lips. He seemed to get closer and closer and before your brain could catch up to what was happening in the moment, his lips ghosted over yours. You could barely breathe, and before he could finally press his lips to yours, you pulled back and came to your senses.
“What are you doing, Harry?” you asked breathlessly. You hated how easily flustered he made you, and how quick you were to abandon Marcus just because Harry wanted you.
“I’m dancing,” you heard him say with amusement. He leaned impossibly close to your ear and whispered, “This is our song, remember?”
His voice sent chills down your body and for a second you couldn’t form a single thought. The sheer proximity of his body to yours had you struggling to think clearly. Suddenly, you remembered earlier in the night when Harry had gone up to the DJ. You put the pieces together, and suddenly realized:
“It was you, wasn’t it? You requested our song” you said in an accusing whisper.
“Ah, so you do remember!” he replied tauntingly. “You’ve had my attention all night, I had to do something to get you in my arms.”
You could hardly believe what you were hearing. Clearly he doesn’t want me if he was the one who broke up with me in the first place, you thought to yourself, getting more confused as you continue to sway with him.
“Harry, you were the one who broke up with me!” Has he lost his mind? You thought to yourself.
“Yeah”, he started, “But it doesn’t change the fact I still want you.”
By now, his face was so close to your own that you could feel his warm breath on your face, and the tips of your noses were so close that any movement forward and they would touch. He continued:
“I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. I thought I could get over you, but I can’t, and believe me, I’ve tried.” He paused for a moment, searching your eyes for you to understand what he was trying to say. When it was clear to him that you still didn’t understand what he was trying to tell you, he began again:
“Nobody can ever measure up to who you were to me, and” he looked at you earnestly as he tried to find the right words to say. “And, I was a fool for trying.”
Your head was spinning with his sudden confession. What is he saying? You thought to yourself. Is he saying he’s sorry? Is he saying he still loves me and wants to be with me again? Part of you wants to tell him to fuck off, and that this is too little too late. But the other part of you–the part of you who has never stopped loving him despite the fact he broke your heart–is begging you to cave and take him back.
Your train of thought is interrupted by the feeling of Harry’s hand lifting up your chin to meet his eyes. He looks nervous, more nervous than you’ve ever seen him before. He looks at you, waiting for you to say anything in response to what he said. You manage to stumble out something while trying to calm your butterflies at the feeling of Harry touching your face.
“Harry, I–” you start, forgetting what you were going to say the minute you began. You try again. “I–”
“Y/N do you still love me?” Harry interrupted.
You couldn’t believe what he just asked you. Why was he doing this here? Right now? In front of everybody? Including our dates?! What is he thinking??
“Because I still love you, Y/N. Never stopped,” he rushed out anxiously. “I was afraid before, and thought maybe I was just obsessed with you and that it was a phase I would grow out of, and that it was better for both of us if I ended things before you got hurt, but–”
You couldn’t take it anymore.
“‘Before you got hurt’?” you threw his own words back at him. “Harry, I was devastated! You hurt me more than you could ever imagine! I loved you and you just left me.” You saw that Harry looked surprised by your sudden venom, evidently not expecting you to react this way, but you could see the sadness in his eyes that told you that he knew you were right.
“Of course I still love you, I never stopped loving you,” you continued, reaching your hand from around his neck into his hair, playing absentmindedly with one of his brown curls. “But if you were able to hurt me while you still loved me, how will I know you won’t do it again?” You say, softer this time.
Before Harry could respond, your song ended and the DJ came on the mic to announce that the next song would be the slow dance song. You immediately recognized the beginning sounds of “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” and as Elvis crooned out the lyrics to what had to be your favorite song of all time, Harry brought his hand from your waist to the side of your face, cupping your cheek.
“I’m sorry for the hurt I caused you,” he started, looking intently into your eyes. “I guess I just want you to know how much I love you, and how every time I hear our song, or see a couple walking down the street, or even when I lay in bed every night, I–” he faltered. “I always think about you. I miss you so much, Y/N, and I guess…” he said, with his eyes beginning to tear up a bit. “I guess I just wanted you to know that.”
“Why now?” you ask. “Why are you only doing this now, when we’ve been broken up for months, and when I’m with somebody else and happy with them?”
“But are you?” he questioned.
“Am I what?” you reply, confused at what he could be playing at now.
“Are you happy? With him” he turned his head slightly to glance behind him to where Marcus now sat with Sarah, both visibly upset and annoyed at their night ending this way.
Am I happy with Marcus? You thought to yourself. He’s incredibly sweet, and kind, and while your feelings for him weren’t the same as they were for Harry, Marcus was stable and made you feel secure.
Your lack of response encouraged Harry to press on:
“Does he make you happy like I made you happy? Do you feel with him what you felt with me? Does he—” he swallowed and looked down to your lips for a split second before returning to look into your eyes with a desperate look. “Does he kiss you like I kissed you?”
Your eyes widen in shock and before you can respond, he cups your face in both of his hands and pleads, “Y/N please, just—” You notice that his eyes are glossier now than before. Is he starting to cry? You briefly think to yourself before he continues his thought, stumbling through his words. “Just, just love me please. I’m lost without you, and seeing you with him I– I just couldn’t watch anymore. I’m sorry for being an idiot. I h-hope you can trust me again and trust me when I say I don’t ever want to lose you again.”
By now his curls had fallen slightly in front of his face and a tear was threatening to run down his cheek. Seeing him this upset and feelings laid bare for you was overwhelming. It made the part of you that was still hurt after Harry broke up with you feel vindicated that he was crawling back to you in this way, but there is this small voice in your head that is getting louder and louder with each of Harry’s assurances of his love that was telling you that this just isn’t right.
“Harry, are you only doing this because you are jealous of Marcus? Because if this is just because you feel possessive of me then I don’t think—”
“I promise you, it’s not that” he interrupted. “Well, it’s not only because of that I guess” he chuckled to himself nervously. “I guess I just realized that if I spend every waking minute of my life only thinking of you then it means I’m ruined for anyone else, and you are the only one I’ll ever love.”
His confession had your heart fluttering and had you at a loss of words. Everything in you wanted to be back with him, but you couldn’t help but feel insecure that he’d change his mind in a few months and break your heart again.
“Are you sure you won’t change your mind later” you whisper, cautious of how true his intentions were.
“I won’t, please…” his face inching closer to yours, now overwhelmingly close to your face.
For a moment, you almost close the gap and finally kiss him. After all, this is what you have wanted, right? You’ve been looking longingly at him ever since he broke up with you, have been jealous of all the girls he’d kiss in the parking lot after school, and haven’t given 100% in your relationship with Marcus simply because you were still hung up on this love you had with Harry that you saw as being perfect. So why were you feeling so uneasy?
You glance behind Harry’s shoulder, and see Marcus sitting down at your table with his head in his hands. In an instant, your heart broke. Marcus seemed so hurt at the prospect of you going to someone else, and it dawned on you that Harry actively tried to hurt you by flaunting all those different girls in front of you these past 6 months. Anytime you were anywhere near him, he made sure to put his arm over whatever girl he was with at the time and look at you intentionally, almost trying to provoke you or make you feel bad about yourself. Marcus would never do that. Everything he did was to help you and to make you feel like you were worthy of love.
Before Harry could lean forward any closer, you immediately pull back, and get your hands away from his neck. His eyes widened in surprise, almost as if he didn’t expect you to stand up for yourself.
“Y/N…” he tried.
“No, Harry” you interrupt him, full of clarity. “I’m not falling for this. If you wanted me, if you truly loved me, you wouldn’t have left me and you certainly wouldn’t have rubbed it in my face with every new girl you would wave in front of me. Goodbye, Harry.”
You left a confused and desperate Harry on the dance floor, and you could hear him call your name in a last ditch effort to convince you to come back to him.
You make your way to Marcus, still sitting at your table, and grab his arm gently. You softly say in his ear, “I have to get out of here, let’s go.” He looked up at you, with slightly teary eyes, in confusion.
“I thought you were going off with him,” he replied solemnly and glanced over to Harry, who was now off the dance floor and in a heated argument with Sarah.
“No, he and I are done,” you assured him. “He won’t ever get between us again, Marcus, and I’m sorry for letting it go so far.”
Marcus seemed to understand, and replied, “Let’s get out of here, and we can talk about it when we aren’t around so many people, okay?”
You remembered just how introverted Marcus was, and how he was probably stressed out the whole night just because of how many people were around. It dawned on you how much he had to step out of his comfort zone just to come with you tonight. Yet another reason why you made the right choice.
“Okay” you replied, latching onto his arm and glancing one last time at Harry, who was already staring at you with a defeated look in his eyes. You look back to Marcus and smile, and tell him:
“Lead the way.”
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Thank you for reading, please like, reblog, and comment if you liked it :)
summary: your typical new years eve fic. all fluff no smut (word count: 1,444 words)
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“Never have I ever…”
Y/N paused, thinking about what Harry had done that she hadn’t.
“Okay I got it: Never have I ever said the wrong name in bed,” she asked with a mischievous look in her eyes and a playful smirk forming.
Harry’s face flushed with embarrassment. I can’t believe she remembered that, he thought to himself. He sighed and took a swig of the vodka cranberry he had been nursing all night. Y/N threw her head back in a fit of giggles and attempted to cover her mouth with her hand. Though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, Harry thought that the sound of Y/N’s laughter was one of the best sounds in the world.
“Not funny,” he said with a straight face, the corner of his lip upturned in a half-grin. Whose stupid idea was it to play Never Have I Ever on New Year’s Eve?
“Alright, alright. Your turn, hit me with your best shot,” she challenged.
Harry observed Y/N sitting across from him on the couch in her apartment. She sat with her legs crossed, anxiously awaiting his reply as her eyes twinkled in amusement. Harry noticed her fingers toying with a loose thread on the end of the shirt she was wearing–his shirt–the one he loaned her one time after a long night (after hers got stained from one of their many bar hopping excursions). To an outsider, she would have looked disheveled and, frankly, a whole mess, but to him? She was perfect, and always had been.
“Okay Big Shot, let’s see…never have I ever…kissed someone at midnight on New Year’s Eve”
Harry saw her cheeks pinken, and her eyes darted away from him and landed in her lap. The room suddenly got quiet; the only thing Harry could hear was the Times Square Ball Drop playing quietly in the background. She answered finally, “That’s the best you could think of?” she scoffed. But it was evident in her reluctance to answer that she was nervous.
Harry feigned a dramatic gasp. “You have kissed someone at New Year’s…right?”
Y/N picked at the threads of his shirt again, this time with more fervor—evidently a nervous tick in reaction to his questioning. Her gaze lifted from her lap and looked at Harry through her eyelashes.
“I mean,” she began as she stumbled through her words, “it’s hard to have kissed someone on New Year’s when you’ve never kissed anyone at all.”
Harry’s eyes widened in disbelief. He could have sworn…
“Wait, didn’t you date Jackson last summer? You never kissed him?”
She had to have kissed somebody, he thought. No way that she has never kissed anyone.
“Well we were never that serious and, I don’t know…” she hesitated.
Harry looked expectantly at her as he waited for her response. She began again, “I think he tried to once? But it didn’t feel right so I stepped back and I think he got the hint I wasn’t into it and we broke up soon after that so…I guess I’ve never had the opportunity.”
Harry racked his brain trying to make sense of her admission. How could no one have wanted to kiss her for this long?! She’s so beautiful, if I was her boyfriend—
His internal thoughts came to a screeching halt. Her boyfriend? Of course, he had thought about the idea as a fleeting notion that he never really took seriously. Y/N and him had been friends for years with no romantic feelings between them…right? Sure, Y/N was insanely attractive (objectively of course) and had the cutest laugh and the prettiest eyes, and—
His train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the shifting weight of the couch caused by Y/N getting up to grab the vodka bottle from the counter to make another drink. As she walked towards the kitchen he heard her say quietly, almost to herself, “Forget it, Harry, let’s just do something else, I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.” He could hear the heartbreak in her voice as she poured a fresh drink into her cup.
“Sorry, I didn't know,” he rushed out, feeling embarrassed, even though he had no way of knowing what her answer would be. He got off the couch and moved towards her. Her back was turned to him and after a beat he tentatively asked,
“Why?”
She turned around and Harry noticed how close they suddenly were to each other. Her eyes flicked to his in confusion.
“Why what?”
“Why didn’t you feel like kissing him? I thought…I thought you liked him? What was the problem? Did he do something to you?”
That last thought made him feel uneasy, could it be that this guy mistreated her and he didn’t even notice?
“What? No, he didn’t do anything to me, he was perfect. At least, I thought he was perfect… But I don’t know, there just was a disconnect for me. I didn’t really like him as much as he liked me.”
She paused in contemplation, then continued.
“I guess I want to be able to look back on my first kiss and know that I had it with someone special and that it meant something.”
Y/N’s normally confident demeanor had been reduced to the shy, insecure girl standing in front of Harry. Harry pressed on.
“But how will you know they are the one? Like will you meet them and just know? Or…” he began when he noticed a look in her eyes that, if he had blinked, he would have missed it.
“Or, have you already met them?”
She froze, thrown off by his sudden line of questioning.
“W-what would make you think I’ve already met them?”
Harry stepped closer to her, feeling a slight buzz from the vodka cranberry he had drank earlier, giving him liquid courage.
“Well,” he questioned, “have you?”
He had stepped close enough to her that he was able to feel the warmth radiating off her body as she faltered in answering him. He could hardly think being this close to her, his heart was leaping out of his chest thinking about who she could possibly have met that she’d kiss. Why won’t she just tell me who it is? We tell each other everything, so why won’t she just tell me? Unless–
“Y/N, who is it? You can tell me, I wouldn’t tell anyone”
She looked away in embarrassment and in a barely audible whisper, he heard a soft “I can’t”, followed by a sniffle as her eyes met his, tears beginning to gather in the corner of her eyes.
Before they could say anything else, they heard the television cheering at the beginning of the countdown to the new year.
“TEN!”
Harry saw a tear slip down her cheek, and he brought a hand to cup her face, wiping the stray tear away with his thumb.
“NINE!”
“Why not?” he asked gently, eyes dancing across her face searching for some sort of reason as to why she would be hesitant to tell him.
“EIGHT!”
She leaned into his hand as she reached for his wrist and held his hand there.
“SEVEN!”
“I don’t want to ruin things,” she whispered.
“SIX!”
Harry’s mind started to race with what she could possibly mean by “ruin things.” It would only ruin things if the person was someone close and important to her, and someone she wouldn’t want to lose by admitting romantic feelings.
“FIVE!”
Harry whispered, “You don’t know that for sure, Y/N”
“FOUR!”
He hesitated for a moment before he breathed out, “Can I kiss you?”
“THREE!”
Her eyes widened in surprise and she hesitated for a moment. He noticed her eyes dart down to his lips for a split second before he returned her gaze to his own.
“TWO!”
“Fuck it,” he rushed out as he reached up to cup her other cheek into his hand and leaned in, now so close he could feel her soft exhales on his lips.
“ONE!”
His lips crashed into hers as she let out a surprised whimper before melting into the kiss. Her hands came up and pulled at the curls at the nape of his neck as he brought his hands down to her waist to pull her against him.
“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”
The cheering on the TV signaling the beginning of the new year was loud enough that it momentarily broke their concentration and they pulled away, foreheads touching as they regained their breath.
“Happy New Year, Harry,” Y/N breathed against his lips. Harry smiled, and before he leaned in for another kiss, whispered, “Here’s to the new year, love.”
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