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Say it Right [Roommaterry/Fratrry]

When Harry’s delinquent behaviour gets him transferred to a new college, he and Y/N (who seem polar opposites) form a strange kind of relationship.

A/N: another old Patreon exclusive for you darlings. This is another long fic so get some snacks ready! I forgot how cocky and full of himself Harry is in this but tbh it’s just standard for Fratrry I guess lmao. I hope you enjoy besties!! <3

Warnings: slow burn, swearing, slight mentions of unwanted attention (someone trying to force kiss Y/N), smut; oral (male receiving), kissing, teasing, dirty talk, masturbation (both male and female), v v cocky Harry, consumption of alcohol, brief descriptions of a fist fight, a fair amount of angst

WC: 23.6k

//

It’s midday when he arrives on campus. Dark, swooping curls sit on top of his head and they bounce a little from the breeze of the wind. It’s a little chilly out, that crisp May air, and he’s only wearing a green t-shirt and some black running shorts, but he doesn’t feel the bite of the chill.

He’s taking his time to look around the parking lot. There are a few nice cars — an Audi and a Range Rover a little closer to the main building, and Harry supposes they belong to the ones living off their Daddy’s credit cards. He scoffs to himself.

His tattooed arms and hard-set jaw are quick to catch the attention of a few girls passing by, whispers slipping past their pretty lips and Harry can’t help but smirk to himself. He knows the effect he has on women, specifically their nether regions and he’s known to use it to his full advantage.

But being unbelievably good-looking and a known Bad Boy doesn’t always get him what he wants. Which is why he’s scuffing his feet as he walks into the Administrator’s Office of yet another prestigious college. He’s still confused about how he got here in the first place after losing his scholarship back at NYU, but he supposes it probably has something to do with the fact that his Aunt is the Dean of the place.

He knows he’s getting unfair treatment, that others work their fucking asses off for this place to even look their way, but he’s not exactly bothered by it. He’s getting what he wants for half the work and isn’t about to bitch about it.

“Harry Styles. I was told to come here and get my schedule and key.” He huffs out, solid arms folding over the high desk in the reception and the young girl behind it stares up at him for a moment.

She’s completely caught off guard, saliva stuck in her throat at the sight of him and she shakes her head and stares back down at her computer, typing away and trying to compose herself.

Harry can’t help the arrogant smirk that appears on his lips. She’s pretty, really pretty, actually. Big brown doe eyes and long wavy hair. Her skin looks soft, lips plump and glossy and he wonders what they’d feel like wrapped around his co—

“Harry Styles as in… Cathy Styles’ nephew?”

And there it is, the question of the day. He purses his lips and nods his head, noticing the way her pretty eyes light up and she beams a bright smile. “You’re all everyone’s been talking about.” She tells him, bottom lip caught between her pearly teeth and Harry grins, condescending.

He leans forward a little, raising his brows just enough for it to be suggestive and with a ducked head and a low voice, he tells her, “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

And he’s pretty sure he can hear her gushing beneath that stupid fucking desk.

Her cheeks brighten beneath the layer of makeup painting her skin and Harry’s eyes trail from her face to her chest. He bites at his own lip at her perfectly round tits just spilling out of her blouse and he wonders how that wasn’t the first thing he saw.

Before he can say anything else, his name is being called in an all too sharp and familiar tone to his Mother and he stills, turning with a sigh. Catherine Rose Styles stands across from him with an unamused glance and arms folded across her chest. She’s in a pantsuit that Richie no doubt got her for her birthday this year and her long hair has been cut short since the last time he saw her.

“Hey, Auntie Cathy.” Harry grins.

Though he’s smiling like he doesn’t have a care in the world, his heart is stammering in his chest because she’s the one who will make or break his future, and though he won’t admit it, he’s not prepared to be deemed a failure by his own family.

“Harry.” She greets, voice stern but he knows she’s trying to be professional, knows she really just wants to scoop him up in her arms and he’s thankful for the former.

Cathy eyes the receptionist sceptically and clears her throat. “Danielle, close your mouth.” She quips and the girl blushes bright red, staring at her computer screen and sinking further down in her chair a little.

An amused smirk tugs at the corners of Harry’s lips and he follows his Aunt out of the reception and into her office. It’s fairly sized, a big bay window behind her desk that looks out to what Harry presumes is the quad. Her walls are decorated in a few certificates and diplomas and there are at least five bookcases that stare back at Harry, almost mocking him for not being able to pronounce the titles even if he tried.

“Glad you showed up.” Cathy begins, taking a seat behind her desk.

Harry watches her for a moment, the way her perfectly manicured fingers point to the chair opposite her and he lets out a short huff of breath and takes the seat.

“Didn’t really have a choice,” he grumbles and he knows he’s being sour.

Cathy gives him a pointed look—the same look his mother gives him when he’s said something he probably wasn’t supposed to—and folds her arms over the top of the desk.

“You can cut out the attitude, I’ll tell you that right now.” She tells him, voice calm and expression void.

Harry isn’t sure if that’s scarier than her being angry or disappointed, but he knows he doesn’t want to find out.

He sighs and rolls his head back, pinching his eyes closed. He knows that his Aunt is stubborn and strong-willed, something she and Richie share very clearly, and it shouldn’t come as a surprise to Harry but he can’t help but feel he’s at home again, being moaned at.

Catherine Styles is not a force to be fucked with. She’s lethal when needs to be and still knows how to have a good time. She was the troublemaker out of her and Harry’s father growing up, and maybe that’s why Richie sent him to her because he knows she can relate to him and maybe talk some sense.

She watches her nephew for a moment as he tries to calm himself down. He isn’t angry, they both know that. But he’s fucked off and tired and just wants to get on with whatever the fuck he needs to get on with. Cathy gets the hint when he rolls his head back down to face her, eyes a little darker than before and if she squints just hard enough, she’s sure she can see them glossing over.

She swallows back what she wants to say and reaches for a sealed, brown envelope, twisting it and her fingers gently push it across the desk so Harry can reach it.

He furrows his brows at her.

“It’s your schedule and campus map. I already got you the books you’ll need. The receipts are in there, you just have to pick them up from the library.” She explains.

Harry’s frown only deepens when he pulls out the map and receipts and a little silver key falls out, clanking against the table and the plastic of the little keyring bounces as it does so. He picks the dainty thing up between his thumb and forefinger, inspecting it like he’s never seen one before.

The little trinket is white, Greek blocked writing in the centre of it. ZΘΨ. Harry lets out a humorous chuckle and dangles the keyring in his Aunts face.

“You’re housing me in a Frat house? You sure that’s the best decision.”

He’s grinning, knows exactly what kind of parties and girls that can be found at Frat houses and he thinks he might’ve hit the jackpot and his Aunt is too naive to see it.

“It’s not a Fraternity, and I’m not babying you, Harry. You get three strikes, and you’re out.” She tells him, snatching the key from his grasp and throwing it at his chest.

He doesn’t feel the impact as it sits in his lap, and all he can do is raise a brow.

“Now go to the house and get yourself settled in, I have a University to run.” She tells him, and just like that, he’s back in his Jeep, key in his hand and he stares at little Greek fraternity symbols for a moment too long.

He doesn’t know how to feel about it. On one hand, it’ll be great chances for drunken parties and getting his dick sucked, but on the other, he’ll have to live with other people and something about that just doesn’t sit well with him.

Nevertheless, he follows the map Cathy gave him to the destination of his new temporary home that she’s circled with a bright red marker. The little roads that surround the campus are quiet for this time of day, and Harry begins to wonder just who he was going to be moving in with. One thing was for sure, he can’t handle any fucking jocks. No way.

It’s even quieter when he pulls up outside of the house, and his Jeep is drowning in its enormous shadow. He can tell it won’t just be him and a couple of other guys, and he knows his Aunt is already cackling to herself at the thought of his face right now.

Harry groans and kills the engine anyway, rubbing a hand through his tousled hair. He’s pulling his keys out as he opens the door, hurling out of the Jeep and slamming it shut.

He wants to delay this whole process as much as he can, but the air is getting colder and Harry would much rather be inside than stuck in the cold and the rain when he notices the looming storm clouds above him.

With a huff, he rounds the back of the Jeep and pulls the trunk door open. He’s hauling out three duffle bags of clothing to start with and tugging out his slick black guitar case. He holds the bags in one hand and gently places the case on the curb, closings the trunk and picking it back up.

He’s kicking his booted feet against the ground as he slowly steps onto the path. The veins in his arms are protruding from the weight of his things, and he’s fairly certain his biceps might actually tear through his shirt at any given moment.

The closer he gets, the more the house looms over him. It’s bigger as he walks the steps of the front of it, and the whole ordeal is just a little more daunting than it was when he was sitting in his car.

Harry doesn’t do neves, never has and likely never will. When he was growing up, his mother always told him ‘nerves mean you care’, but as he approaches the front door, he feels something unfamiliar in the pit of his stomach.

He’s sure it isn’t nervous, though. Blames it on the fact that he hasn’t eaten in over seven hours and his mothers’ persistent warnings just an hour before he left for this hellhole. He’s not upset with her, never could be, but he wishes she stood up for him more when his father sent him away.

He knows it was a long shot to move to New York for college, and he knew it was a matter of time before he lost his scholarship and got kicked out. It all came tumbling down and Harry was willing to stay put but when his father showed up and dragged him back home, he had no choice but to listen and attend Mildred University. .

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the chatter from the inside of the house, and it’s only when he looks up from his feet that he finally notices the front door is open and a tall blond and short brunette are standing by the threshold.

The blond clears his throat and Harry sets his bags and guitar by his feet on the porch. “Harry, right?” He asks and Harry nods his head with slightly squinted eyes.

Niall Horan, a history and economics major, holds his hand out in greeting and offers a grin. “Niall. Nice to meet you.” Harry eyes his hand for a moment before nodding his head a little and shaking his hand.

“Yeah, you too.” He’s weary when he speaks and his eyes soon flicker to the short brunette by his side.

She’s got a cute button nose and soft brown eyes, long straight hair and half of it sits in a bun on top of her head. Harry can’t help the cheeky grin that sneaks its way on his pink lips and he sees the way she blushes under his gaze.

“I’m Maisee.” She introduces herself with a little wave. She’s nibbling on her red-stained bottom lip and her dainty fingers play with the sleeves of her tousled blouse that’s tucked into her denim shorts.

He nods and swipes his tongue out against his lips. “Harry.” He repeats his name, momentarily forgetting Niall is still standing there until he clears his throat again and Harry finally acknowledges his presence for more than just twenty seconds.

“You want some help with your stuff?” He offers, pointing to his bags and Harry nods, watching as Maisee wanders off, grinning back at him over her shoulder.

Harry bites his bottom lip and grabs his guitar and other duffel bag and follows Niall inside his new home.

“Don’t get any ideas with her. She’s great, and all, but she’s bad news.” Niall tells him gruffly. Harry hums, not really taking the information in, too busy looking around.

The walls are a light, dusty grey and aesthetically white and black furniture decorate the emptiness. He’s shocked at the cleanliness of the home and with furrowed brows, he follows Niall through the foyer and into the equally clean kitchen.

“Dude, why is this place so clean?” Harry asks, nose slightly scrunched up when he notices three more people in the room.

He’s standing beneath the archway as everyone stops what they’re doing to look at him. Niall sets his bags down beside the centre island and lets out a soft laugh.

“That’d be Y/N.” Niall laughs out.

He rounds the island and searches through the fridge for two beers, handing one to Harry who takes it thankfully and pops it open. He frowns and takes a sip.

“Who’s that? Your maid?” He quips and he doesn’t mean it rudely, for once. He’s curious as to how a Frat house is so clean and organised, and by the looks of Niall, he doesn’t seem one to have his shit together.

Maisee laughs from her place at the stove. She’s stirring a large pot of pasta and Harry presumes that maybe she’s on lunch duty. Is that a thing in this house?

“No, she’s a student and she lives here. Her OCD flares up sometimes so this place is always spotless.” She explains, not bothering to look over her shoulder and Harry can’t help but frown to himself over her sudden sense of coldness.

“You mean… girls… live here?” He asks.

He knows he sounds like some hormonal teenager but he’s more than shocked that his Aunt would allow him to live in a house with a practically endless supply of pussy, whenever he wanted it.

“Yeah. It’s only Y/N, Maisee, and Raegan,” Niall begins to explain, pointing to the blonde that sits at the table, head in a book. She waves a hand over her head, looking up for a couple of seconds to offer Harry a smile.

He nods his head in affirmation and looks back to Niall. “Then there’s us guys. Me, you, Dean,” he points to the guy that’s reading a magazine. His hair is styled back into a quiff and he’s wearing skinny jeans and a shirt.

“There’s Mackey, he’s at a class right now. And Oliver is on a grocery run.” Niall explains.

Harry takes a moment to nod his head. He knows there’s no use even trying to remember these names, knows he’s not going to be talking to them much.

“Where’s Lily?” He asks as he eyes the group. Ah, wrong already. Niall stifles a laugh and shakes his head, noticing the death glares that Raegan seems to be sending him over the top of her book.

“Her name is Y/N.” She corrects him, brows slightly scrunched and as quickly as she interjected, she returns her attention back to her book.

Harry raises a brow at her boldness, then he realises that none of them actually know who he is and maybe he’s a little relieved about that.

“Y/N is at work. She picked up a double so she should be home for about 10 p.m., in the meantime, let me show you to your room.”

//

It’s 11 p.m. and Harry’s all unpacked in his new bedroom. The walls are bare and his closet is only partly full, but he’s unpacked. He’s got his laptop set up on his desk and he’s made his bed to the best of his ability. His toiletries are in his bathroom and the steam is still pouring out of the room from his shower twenty minutes ago. He supposes next time he’ll open a window.

He’s dressed in a pair of gym shorts, laying back on his bed with his back against the headboard and his acoustic guitar sitting in his lap. He’s strumming softly at the strings and he thinks he might’ve found a melody until a soft tapping on his door stops him from following the feeling.

He sighs and places the guitar in his bed, quickly tugging on a black t-shirt and pushing back his wanton curls when he opens the door to her.

She’s pretty, he supposes. Her hair is thrown in a ponytail and her rounded eyes sparkle as they stare up at him. She’s got full lips and a little crook in the bridge of her nose. Her face is void of makeup save for a little mascara and brow powder, and Harry can see the little blemishes that scatter her cheeks.

She’s short, too, Harry reckons no taller than 5”7 and her left front tooth slightly overlaps the right. She’s got that good girl look about her and for once, Harry’s not interested in corrupting it. He raises his brow and she drinks him in.

He’s tall and lean, muscular, she’s sure and his biceps are begging to tear through his shirt. His jaw is sharp and skin clear, and his lips look so soft and pink. What gets her most, are his curls. They’re fluffy and wild and she can’t help but want to run her fingers through them.

Maisee told her he had a bad boy vibe, but right now, she can’t see anything other than soft.

“Welcome to Mildred University,” she greets him softly, and he’s pleasantly shocked by her voice.

It isn’t as sickeningly sweet as he had thought. It’s a little raspy and velvety at the same time and completely unexpected to Harry.

“I’m Y/N.” She introduces herself with a hand out for him to take.

He does, hesitantly. Her skin is soft on his and she beams brightly up at him, despite just having worked a fourteen-hour shift on three hours of sleep and a slice of dry toast from this morning. Not to mention she still has to study for her test tomorrow morning.

“Harry.” He greets, smiling through pursed lips and she releases his hand.

She smells like flowers and if it wasn't for the florist apron covering her front, he would’ve thought she'd been laying in a field all day.

“You work in a flower shop?” He quips, and suddenly she’s so cliche.

A good girl working in a flower shop, what a surprise. Y/N stills at his tone and retracts her hand, fiddling with her fingers and she retracts her gaze from his face.

She clears her throat and looks back up at him. “Yeah, gotta pay the bills somehow.” She jokes, trying to lighten the mood, but she knows he’s probably going to be a dick about it and tease her.

He nods. “But we’re all living here for free.” He retorts.

Y/N sighs and closes her eyes for a moment. Yes, they’re all living there for free. Maisee’s father is the owner of the building and promised her and her housemates could live free of charge, providing there’s no complaints or drugs.

She scratches her forehead. “Yeah, but we have cars to pay for, groceries, books, supplies… you know.” She trails off and Harry can tell by the way she doesn’t look him in the eye that she’s hiding something.

“And besides, I like flowers.” She tells him and this time her voice is a little harder and there’s a tick in her jaw.

Part of him wants to tease her and he isn’t sure why. Maybe it’s just his inner dick showing but the way he’s speaking to her makes the young woman feel uncomfortable and she feels so unworthy to be under his gaze.

He’s not bothered, really. But his Aunt's words continue to play in his head and he knows he has to keep out of trouble and not start upsetting people. Three strikes and he’s out, and he isn’t about to get his first one on his first night here.

“Anyway, I just wanted to say hello,” Y/N concludes, her stomach breaking into an uneasy herd of elephants and she’s sure she can taste the bitterness he’s protruding.

She spins on her feet before he can say anything else and Harry watches her disappear into the room next to his. Great, he thinks. We’re neighbours. With a huff, he kicks his door closed and bounces back on his bed, guitar sitting back in his lap as he plucks inspiration from nowhere.

From the other side of the wall, Y/N let’s out a breathy sigh and closes her bedroom door. She’s leaning against it as she tugs off her apron and unties the hair band in her hair.

She struggles to calm her breathing and she isn’t sure why. She’s used to being intimidated by other people, but he’s doing it on a whole other level. Her body feels hot and her cheeks are flushing, and she’s certain she can feel a wetness between her legs.

“Cut it out, Y/N.” She tells herself, shaking her head and taking another deep breath. She’s stripping her clothes when her phone goes off and she quickly picks it up as she steps out of her shoes.

Maisee: Total hottie right?

Y/N giggles at her friend and she can’t help but nibble on her bottom lip. She’s running the water of her shower, waiting for the temperature to heat up as she quickly texts Maisee back.

Y/N: Gonna have to agree on that one lmao

Y/N: Don’t get any ideas, though! He’s our roommate and you can’t go whoring around with him, it’ll make it awkward for all of us here :/

Maisee: You’re only saying that cause you secretly wanna hop on that dick. God, you’re such a slut!

Y/N stifles out a laugh and shakes her head, phone thrown into the bed and she climbs into the shower. The water’s hot on her aching body and she takes her time to let the water run over her.

Her puffy nipples pearl beneath the hot water and she runs a hand through her hair, brushing it from her face. She feels hotter than before, chest heaving and she cups the swells of her breasts before her hands slowly travel down the expanse of her stomach, and she can’t help but wonder what it’d feel like if his curls were ticking her skin like her fingers.

Harry stills on his bed at the sound of a strange noise coming from the other room. He frowns, resting the guitar against his nightstand and slowly makes his way toward the wall opposite him.

He can hear the shower running and he knows it’s Y/N. He’s about to roll his eyes and wander off when he hears a soft groan and sharp intake of breath. His eyes widen and cheeks flush and he hears Y/N let out another shaky moan.

She’s showering and she’s touching herself. Harry gulps, entire body heating up and he’s not sure if his mouth is watering or if it’s growing dry. He feels a twinge of something familiar between his legs and by the time he looks down, there’s a small tent forming and he’s straining in his boxers.

Oh fuck.

//

Y/N Y/L/N is a people-pleaser. She doesn’t know how to say “no” and often finds herself swallowing back her discomfort to put others well -beings first. She’s always been like it, gets it from her mother, so it’s no surprise that she’s been dragged into yet another one of Maisee’s brilliant ideas.

“And you’re not skipping out halfway through, either.”

Y/N sighs to herself as she stacks the red solo cups. It’s Friday afternoon and her and Maisee are getting the house ready for Harry’s surprise party tonight. A week has passed since he moved in and after a little planning and cash spent on drinks, it was well and truly underway.

“I’m not gonna skip out. I already told you.” Y/N speaks softly, though she is wondering if maybe she’ll be able to sneak off toward the end of the night so she can get a head start on her paper due next Wednesday.

Maisee already seems to know what she’s thinking and she takes the plastic cups away from her fiddling hands. “I mean it, Y/N. As much as I love you and your anti-socialness, you need to get out a little more. And besides, I invited Chris, so you have to come.”

And just like that, Y/N’s gaping at her best friend. “Why did you invite Chris!?” She shrieks and Maisee lets out a scoff like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Um, ‘cause he’s into you… duh.” She frowns, twisting the bottle of liquor on the counter to read the names.

Y/N frowns to herself and lets out a shaky breath. “But I’m not into him. He freaks me out, Mais,” Y/N argues but she knows her pleads are falling on deaf ears.

Maisee waves her off and shakes her head. As much as Y/N loves Maisee, she doesn’t love her attitude right now.

“He just likes you,” she argues back and Y/N has to take another deep breath in an attempt to shake off the anxiety that she can feel crawling up her chest.

It’s typical Maisee, really. She knows how Y/N struggles with her anxieties and she’s always been one to show her the “tough love” side to it, and in the past, it’s worked. But now, all Y/N can feel is her chest caving in and her hands growing clamming and she knows she’s on the verge of a panic attack.

“One… two… three,” Y/N finds herself whispering under her breath, bottom lip quivering.

“Blue,” she whispers, eyes darting around the room as she searches for three blue things.

Mackey’s book, couch pillow, Harry’s shirt. She stills. Harry’s shirt? Harry.

“Harry.” she squeaks out, hand reaching to smack Maisee in the side.

He’s standing in the doorway, dark hair tucked beneath a baseball cap that Maisee thinks looks like pure sex. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Harry! What are you doing here?” Maisee giggles out breathlessly.

Y/N fights back the need to roll her eyes at her best friends whorish antics and Harry nibbles down on his lower lip.

“I live here… remember?” he jokes half-heartedly and she almost gushes at the sound. Y/N clears her throat and subtly nudges her friend’s side.

“Thought you had classes till seven?” Y/N interjects, though she knows there’s no real use in lying about what they’re doing.

“Got cancelled.” He shrugs, wandering into the kitchen and grabbing a deep red apple from the fruit bowl.

Y/N watches as he takes a bite out of it and lets out a sigh. She isn’t sure if she’s thankful she’s able to stop secretly setting up his party, or if she’s angry that he didn’t come home sooner.

“So… what’s all this?” He asks, hands gesturing to the mass of alcohol and party food and all Y/N can do is stare at his stupid head and wonder why he’s hiding his hair under that stupid cap.

Before Maisee has the chance to fabricate a story, Y/N is blurting out that it’s his surprise party. Harry’s quirking a brow and taking another bite of his apple when Maisee sends her friend what can only be considered a death glare, but Y/N doesn’t exactly care.

She doesn’t want to go to the party and she’s hoping that maybe Harry will force her to call it off with that stupidly charming smile.

“A party sounds fun.”

//

It’s warm and it smells. Y/N’s tucked herself in the kitchen the entire night as she’s kept away from the ruckus of horny college students. She’s got a cup of lemonade in her hand and she tries to fight back the urge to run upstairs and lock her door behind her.

The party has been in full swing for well over two hours now and Y/N is more than eager to leave. She hasn’t seen Harry since earlier this morning and she isn’t even sure if he’s actually here. Maisee is off with her second guy of the week and Y/N isn’t sure where the rest of her housemates are.

She’s been avoiding Chris all night, running out of the room whenever he enters it and she knows she’ll have to face him at one point, but that won’t stop her from trying to delay it.

“Aye, Miss Y/N Jane, what are you doing here all on your pretty lonesome,” a husky voice booms through the kitchen and Y/N looks up from her cup.

Oliver and Mackey come bolting into the room, arms around their shoulders and they struggle to hold their drinks and keep their stability. Y/N’s heart warms at the happiness on her friends’ faces and she giggles to herself at just how far gone they seem.

“Too loud out there,” Y/N shrugs, welcoming the warm hugs that the young men give her.

Mackey and Oliver Belford: aka, the hottest twins on campus but the brothers Y/N wishes she had. They both circle her and hold her close until she’s squished between them.

“Want me to make them be quiet?” Mackey asks, ruffling a hand through his golden locks and Y/N stifles out a laugh and shakes her head.

“S’Okay, Mack. You two should go back in there, though. Go have fun!” She tells them and though they don’t mind staying with her, they wander off anyway and blow a kiss as they leave the room.

“Aye! Mackey, Olly!” Niall shouts out to his friends from across the room.

He’s wearing a green tee with little holes decorating it and a pair of skinny jeans that sit low on his waist. The twins approach him with grins, hollering out greetings to the tall curly-haired man with them.

Harry’s having a good time, and to say he’s surprised is an understatement. He’s got a beer in his hand and a light blush to his cheeks. He knows it’s from the alcohol and the attention he’s been receiving all night, and he’s already got his eye on a pretty little brunette that’s been eye-fucking him from across the room for the past thirty minutes.

“Boys,” Harry greets them, and it’s like he’s known them for years.

Mackey works with Harry at the garage on Thursdays and Saturdays, while Oliver majors in music and is tatted up to his shoulders, something Harry took a quick interest to and it wasn’t long before he was friendly with all the guys in the house.

“Styles, let me tell you something,” Mackey slurs as he slings his heavy arm over Harry’s shoulder, “I think you’re pretty cool, for a bad boy, and that little piece of ass over there is totally begging for it.” He snorts out a laugh and Oliver can’t help but shake his head and frown at his brothers choice of words.

Harry hums and sets his drink down on the mantelpiece of the fireplace. He’s enjoying himself, and maybe it’s because of the alcohol or the fact that he knows he’s getting his dick sucked tonight.

“Bro, I can’t believe you’re from Holmes Chapel and we’ve never met before. I used to visit my aunt every summer there.” Niall laughs out.

He and Harry have grown closer over the past week, learning that somehow, they have a lot more in common than they thought.

They’re both into music, both like beer and parties. They share other smaller interests, too. Niall likes bikes and Harry fixes them. Niall likes tattoos and Harry has plenty. It’s definitely a blooming bromance and for once, Harry isn’t all that mad about it.

He’s kept to himself, aside from spending a few hours hanging out with Niall here and there. He supposes maybe one day he’ll open up a little more to him, but for now, hanging out in the present is enough, and he isn’t ready to drag his past into things.

Harry shrugs and stifles out a laugh, not wanting to tell him that he was in with the wrong crowd and was the reason for so many headlines that met the papers.

“Guess our paths just never crossed,” he agrees, and he’s thankful for that. It’s only been a week and Niall is already more solid than Harry’s previous ’friends’.

“Gonna go grab some pizza.” He tells them, offering Niall a pat on the back and a tight-lipped smile to the twins.

Harry weaves through the groups of people he doesn’t know, paw-like hands coming up to push back his hair. He breathes out a small sigh as he enters the quiet kitchen. The surfaces are smothered in splattered pizza slices and sticky alcohol and the thought of cleaning it in the morning gives Harry a brief headache, but he’s sure Y/N would have a whale of a time.

He’s unsure as to what his problem is with the girl but something about her irks him. No one is really that well put together or polite and kind.

He hears muffled voices and hums from the utility room on his left as he wanders to the fridge to pull out a bottle of water, no longer in the mood for pizza, (not that there was any left anyway).

He laughs to himself under his breath, the couple in the room no doubt too eager to wait until they’re home, and Harry’s about to leave the kitchen until he hears a desperate whimper and he stills.

He’s not so sure if it is a bunch of horny college students anymore when the pleas of “stop, I mean it,” come out louder and clearer, desperate and serious. His eyes widen and for a moment, his heart stops, but the second a heartbreaking sob sounds from behind the door, he’s kicking it open before he can even think.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

There’s a blond dude hunched over a young woman he’s got cornered against the sink. Her hands are frantic as she tries to push him away but she doesn’t have to try much longer when Harry tears him off her and sends a quick jab to his nose. It isn’t until the woman looks up that Harry’s stomach drops to the pit of his stomach.

Y/N.

Niall comes bolting into the utility room, eyes frantic and he quickly pieces together what just happened. He dags Chris out by the scruff of his neck when Raegen and Maisee come racing through the door, standing on either side of Y/N as they escort her out of the room and up to her own.

Harry watches as they pull her away, catches sight of her wet cheeks and mascara smudged eyes. She’s shaking with terror and embarrassment and Harry has to stop himself from calling her name or pulling her into him. As he turns around to the kitchen, a large crowd has formed and the music’s stopped.

He feels sick, completely and utterly disgusted. Guilt sits just as heavy in his stomach — slightly ashamed to have been so rude to her previously. That initial dislike to Y/N has quickly began to dwindle when he finds himself angry at everyone gathering around the scene.

Harry lets out a growl and that once carefree persona is long gone. “What the fuck are you all looking at? Party’s over!” He roars out and he isn’t sure if it’s in anger or something else.

The partygoers are quick to scramble and suddenly, he’s left alone with his thoughts and a completely trashed house.

Niall, Mackey and Oliver are locking up and making sure everyone left, Dean passed out on the couch with a bottle of wine cuddled into his chest and Harry wonders for a moment how the whole ordeal hadn’t woken him. He supposes he still has a lot to learn about his roommates.

He takes to the stairs, jaw set hard and he’s almost certain there’s steam oozing from his ears and nose. All he can think about is her. He’s desperate to know if she’s okay, if he hurt her… but he doesn’t know what he’d do if he had. His shoulders slump as he walks down the hallway, eyes widening when he sees both Maisee and Raegen leaving Y/N’s bedroom with pursed lips.

“Is she okay?” Harry rasps out and he doesn’t know where this sudden hesitation and worry is coming from.

Maisee looks up at him with a slightly tilted head, like she’s trying to read what his angle is.

Raegen sighs and shrugs. “She just wants to be alone.”

Harry frowns. “So you just left her? After what just happened?” he quips, voice raising before he can even process what he’s said.

Maisee squints at him, wants to know what his deal is and Harry is quick to notice her attitude toward him.

“Sorry.” He quickly apologises for his tone, and it’s yet another thing he can’t seem to understand why he’s doing.

The girls walk past him in silence and Harry watches as they both enter their own bedrooms, closing the doors behind them.

As he turns his head, he stares at Y/N’s door. He doesn’t know how long he stands there for but after a few minutes he can hear her cries through the thick wood and he just wants to scream.

She’s shaking as she sits in the corner of her room, and she tells herself she’s being stupid, that she shouldn’t be so upset about this. But she is, she’s fucking distraught and she has to remind herself that she has every right to be. She was violated and she doesn’t even want to fucking look at herself.

Harry stands there until her cries quieten down to silent sobs and his fists clench by his sides. He forces himself to move, to turn on his heel and go into his bedroom that’s right next to hers. He pretends he doesn’t hear her crying herself to sleep. Just like she pretends she doesn’t hear him leave his room an hour later to clean the house for her.

//

He’s sweating.

There’s dirty oil smothering his bulging biceps and his short sleeves have been rolled up, sitting on his shoulders. His hair is a mess, slicked back with gel and sweat but the girl in the sunflower dress thinks he looks like sex.

He’s meant to be working, refitting an engine, to be exact. He isn’t, though. Instead, he’s chatting up Corina, his boss’ niece and if it wasn’t for Mackey working across the garage, he’d have her bent over the table with that pretty little dress hiked up her waist as he pounded into her pussy.

She’s perfect, he thinks. Gorgeous skin, innocent eyes that he knows will be the death of him, and the most mind-blowing hourglass figure that he can even make out beneath her loose fitted dress. He can only imagine how juicy those tits must be.

He doesn’t bother trying to hide his clear arousal toward the young woman, and if anything, he makes it clear as day when Mackey looks over and the tall boy is pressing himself against her, a taunting smirk on his lips as he whispers something filthy in her ear.

Mackey shakes his head and clears his throat, supposes he should probably help a brother out. “Yo, Harry,” he calls out, watching as Harry looks over Corina’s shoulder to see him. “Go take your break. I got it down here.”

He doesn’t bother hiding his grin as he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her into the building, giggles slipping past her lips when he guides her into the bathroom.

He’s shoving her against the door, lips hot on her neck and she sighs out in sweet relief. Her skin tastes like strawberries and Harry can’t get enough, swears it’ll be the death of him. She tugs on his hair, fingernails scratching at his scalp, knows they’re gonna be untamable, but at this moment, he can’t seem to care.

His hands snake down her sides and to the hem of her little sundress before he’s hiking it up around her hips. Corina’s breaths are shaky in his ear as she licks the shell of it. Harry’s fingertips graze against the silky skin of her thighs and all he wants is to have them wrapped around his head.

He’s panting and she’s barely done anything. His fingers feel the soft cotton of her panties and she’s soaked through already. He fights back a smirk as she pulls away to look up at him, gorgeous brown eyes batting away and she sinks to her knees with a smirk of her own.

Harry nibbles down on his bottom lip, the anticipation almost becoming too much as she fumbles with his belt. He throws his head back and takes a deep breath. He needs this. It’s been too long and if he doesn’t have a pussy or pair of lips wrapped around him in the next ten seconds, he’s gonna burst.

It’s like she gets it, though, like she hears his thoughts and she runs her soft, wet tongue up his throbbing shaft. He’s big. Thick and the perfect length and her pussy is pulsing just looking at it. His tip is red, sore and angry, and all she can do is pepper kisses to it as she drinks him in.

She’s pulled his jeans and boxers down just enough so she can scratch up his thick thighs. Her plump lips tickle at his balls, sucking them into her mouth and she swirls her warm tongue around them, and Harry’s seeing stars. Knows it’s over for him when she releases with a pop and sucks up half his cock like a pro.

He’s fucking her face, holding it in place by her blonde locks and she doesn’t even gag when he hits the back of her throat. He’s completely gone, can’t tell his left from his right and he swears to God he’s gonna die and this is the best way he could ever fucking imagine.

She’s taking him like never before, slurping and lapping him up. Harry’s head is thrown back, eyes rolling and he feels like he’s going to explode. “Holy shit,” he pants out, beads of sweat dotting his hairline and he’s seeing stars.

Harry’s fingers thread through her hair, shoving her head closer to him until his cock is snug down her throat and her button nose is pressed against his naked pubic bone.

“Ah, shit,” he cries out as she swallows around him, coming up for air.

She’s grinning up at him, eyes watering and plump lips swollen and soaked. Her own saliva is smothered across her chin and a string of it connects her lips to his tip. His cock is soaked too, completely fucking drenched and he wonders how tight her pussy would feel.

“You like that, baby?” Corina purrs up at him, long, dark lashes fluttering and he bites back a moan, doesn’t want to let her see him so fucked and vulnerable.

He’s gnawing on his bottom lip, groans bubbling in his throat as she sucks him back up again. She moans around his shaft, tongue swirling on his underside of his cock and she pumps what she doesn’t want to fit in her mouth.

Harry’s hips are jutting into her face, eagerly chasing his release and she’s coaxing him on; sucking harder and pumping faster. He’s a spluttering mess, vision clouded and dotted with white lights and he’s coming. He’s coming so fucking hard, Corina struggles to keep it all in her mouth.

His arousal drips from the corners of her lips and Harry watches with blown eyes, jaw slacked. She’s still staring up at him, grinning as she swallows everything he gave her. Harry whimpers, taking a shaky breath and tucking himself back into his pants.

Corina giggles and licks up what slipped past her mouth, raising back to her feet and leaning into him with puckered lips. Harry grimaces and pulls back, dodging her kiss like his life depends on it and she sinks back to her feet and stifles a laugh.

“Oh, you’re one of those,” she quips, and Harry can’t help but scoff.

He leans back against the walls, head rolled to the side slightly and Corina just wants to mark up that pretty neck. Shame she doesn’t get to. She squints, like she’s trying to read what’s on his mind, but it comes back blank.

“My number’s in the books. Call me.”

And just like that, she’s spinning on her heels and strutting out of the bathroom and out of the garage completely, hips swaying like she didn’t just suck the soul of his dick.

He stays there for a moment, trying to catch his breath and wrap his head around what had just happened. Just when he’s about to leave, Mackey is standing at the doorway with arms folded over his chest and a knowing smirk.

“Fuck off, Mack,” Harry grumbles out a laugh, fighting back the blush that sits on his cheeks.

Mackey shakes his head at the young man and guides him back into the garage, throwing a greased up cloth at him and Harry gets back to work.

//

He’s getting frustrated. The notes don’t flow together and he can’t get the damn melody right. It’s 2 a.m. and Harry’s a mess. He’s not sure why he’s sacrificing his sleep to play around with his stupid guitar, but he really thought inspiration would strike. It hasn’t.

He stops his strumming and lets out a sigh, his stomach churning and he hears it gurgle silently. With a huff, Harry throws on a shirt from the ground and makes his way out of his bedroom. The hallway light is on and he can hear soft, yet frantic tapping as he makes his way down the stairs.

He rounds the corner when he notices the kitchen light on and papers sprawled around the island, and his heart stops a little. Y/N sits with a furrowed brow, AirPods shoved in her ears and she’s gnawing on her bottom lip as she types her fingers raw. Her hair is braided back and she’s got a stupid, slimy looking facemask on and she hasn’t noticed Harry’s presence.

He’s tempted to turn around while he still can, avoid her the way she’s been avoiding him for the past week, since that night at the party, but she catches his head of curls from the corner of her eyes and she’s pulling out her earphones and offering a soft, yet nervous smile.

“Hi,” she breathes softly, and it feels like it’s the first time he’s hearing her voice again.

He’s not sure why he’s so bothered that she’s been avoiding him. And maybe he wouldn’t be bothered if it was under other circumstances, but he’s been silently worrying and treading on eggshells for the past nine days and he fucking hates it.

“Hi, yourself,” he tries to make it playful, to ease the air that’s suffocating them in the room and she breathes out a stifled laugh.

Harry sits opposite her, watching the way she chews on the inside of her cheek, a nervous habit, he supposes. He can’t figure out what’s going on in her head.

“What are you doing up?” Y/N finally asks, and her voice is just as velvety as he remembers.

She’s trying not to make eye contact, doesn’t want to deal with the awkward tension between them both. Never had been good with confrontation. Harry seems to get the hint, and like magic he’s willing to forget the whole thing.

He shrugs, “I couldn’t sleep,” and he’s got his chin propped up in the palms of his hands as his elbows rest on the counter. His hair is curling around his ears and at the nape of his neck again and Y/N just wants to brush her fingers through it. She doesn’t, though.

Instead, she nods her head and gently pushes her laptop screen down so she can get a better look at him—like she’s making up for the nine days and three hours that she hasn’t seen him for.

“I have some camomile tea in the cupboard. I always find that helps me with sleeping, you can have some, if you want.” She offers with a tight-lipped smile and picks at her nails.

She struggles to look him in the eye, terrified he’s going to bring up the night of the party and she isn’t sure she can handle that. She hasn’t spoken about it to anyone. She’d like to keep it that way.

“Why are you always so nice to everyone?”

He can’t help but ask the question that’s been stuck in his head since he met her. She’s silent for a moment, a little stunned because no one’s ever asked her that before. She’s just nice. That’s who she is. She doesn’t know anything else.

Y/N shrugs. “I have no reason to be unkind,” and Harry can’t help but frown at her words.

Part of him gets it, though, somewhere deep down, but the more conscious part of him doesn’t.

“Haven’t you heard of ‘kindness is weakness’?” He asks with slightly raised brows and she falls into herself a little, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry.

Y/N doesn’t want to look at him, doesn’t want to mutter out an answer and she’s too stuck in her head, wondering if Harry had meant to backhandedly call her weak.

“I guess I’d rather be weak than an ass.” She shrugs, and this time, Harry isn’t sure if she meant to backhandedly call him an asshole.

He sees the hint of a teasing smile on her lips and he can’t help but chuckle whole-heartedly, knowing she’s only playing, but he’s also sure part of her is being truthful.

Harry squints at her. “Why are you up, then?” He quips and he tries to keep it light and playful.

Y/N lets out a shaky laugh and motions her hand across the surfaces. “I have a poetry essay to write, and I haven’t quite finished annotating everything,” she explains briefly, worried her talking will bore him and if she’s honest, she quite enjoys his company.

He hums and nods a little, about to say something when she speaks again. “And I heard you playing, you’re really good. You should see Professor Lennon about joining his class.” She smiles brightly, so bright that she misses the way his face hardens and jaw sets.

Y/N doesn’t stop talking, though, doesn’t hear the alarm bells in her head or see the way his face turns an angry shade of pink.

“You were listening to me?” He asks, stuck in complete disbelief, and Y/N isn’t sure if his expression is one of anger or embarrassment.

It’s the former.

“I mean, the walls are thin, of course, I heard you,” she explains and before he can get a word in, she’s rambling again. “And you’re really good! I don’t know why you put up this hard front, you should be pursuing music, not keeping up this bad boy look.” She speaks, and Harry can’t help but see red.

How dare she tell him who he is and isn’t.

“You don’t know shit about me, so back the fuck off.” He spits at her, and he doesn’t miss the way her face drops and shoulders slump.

He doesn’t care. He spins on his heels and ignores the frantic calls of his name and eager apologies as he bounces up the stairs, anger rolling off him in waves.

Y/N sits in her spot, completely frozen in shock and her whole body jolts when she hears him slam his bedroom door and glass shattering on the floor.

//

The house is a tip, Y/N thinks. The cushions on the couch aren’t fluffed, the throw blanket over the back isn’t straight and she’s only just deciding that the rug beneath the coffee table is too big for the living room.

The house isn’t a mess. The surfaces are spotless and literally shining from the amount of polishing Reagan had done, the floors have been swept and mopped thanks to Niall, and the throw blanket over the back of the couch is straight.

The house isn’t a mess, Y/N is. She’s snappy and not at all her perky self. It’s 11 a.m and she’s forbidden anyone from walking around the house with their shoes on, and insisted that if you eat, it’s over the fucking sink or not at all.

She doesn’t mean to be a controlling, raging bitch, but she’s stressed beyond comprehension and she only has thirty more minutes to make sure everything is perfect.

Her Dad is visiting. The one man that Y/N likes to think she doesn’t take shit from, but in reality, he’s the route of all her men-troubles. He’s ignorant, stubborn, filthy rich and, in Maisee’s word, a complete and utter fucking DILF.

Grayson Lee Y/L/N is not only Y/N’s biological father, but also the founder and CEO of GL Trading, one of the most successful businesses in all of the Greater London Area. It’s something Y/N tends not to brag about, and if anything, it’s something she purposely tries to go out of her way to hide.

It’s bad enough she shares his last name, she doesn’t want the entire campus (or everyone she meets, for that matter) to know he’s her father. It’s not that she’s ashamed… exactly. Moreover, she’s completely and utterly disgusted by his presence alone. He’s controlling, manipulative… a bully, and Y/N doesn’t like it one bit.

Harry’s bouncing down the stairs when Y/N rearranges the cushions and takes a step back to inspect their straightness. He’s got on his black skinny jeans and a Nirvana t-shirt. He’s got a hoodie thrown over his shoulder and a stupid beanie suffocating his hair.

He notices Reagan first, how she’s dusting the tops of the picture frames on the walls. Her shirt has ridden up a little and so has her skirt, the hem of it barely resting below her ass and Harry looks away, eyes catching sight of a distraught Y/N, instead.

“No, it’s still not straight.” She huffs in aggravation.

The apples of her cheeks are growing warm and she’s tugging at the roots of her hair out of frustration. Harry’s never seen her like this and he can’t help but raise his brows in amusement at what she seems to be getting so upset over.

He takes a step closer to her, brows still raised and she stomps her foot like a child, and that’s when Harry decides he can’t hold back a little laugh. Y/N spins around and grits her teeth at the grinning young man.

“What? What the fuck is your problem, huh? Why don’t you fucking help instead of standing there, not doing shit!”

She isn’t sure where it came from, no one is. Her chest is heaving with anger and everyone stares with wide eyes and slacked jaws. Harry’s fairly certain his head has been bitten off and he’s too much in shock to say anything back.

No one gets the chance to say anything before her shoulders are slumping and she’s rushing past everyone and up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door behind her. Harry gapes at the spot she was just standing in and lets out a choked noise when he feels his boxers begin to strain.

Oh, no.

He spins around when Niall lets out a sigh and Harry can’t help but raise his brows in amusement again as he tries to mask his arousal. “What the fuck was that about?” he scoffs out a laugh as everyone disperses and Mackey takes the trash out.

Niall huffs and straightens the pillow for Y/N, although he’s quite sure he just made it worse.

“Her Dad’s coming to visit today,” he explains briefly and Harry isn’t sure why that’s such a big deal and what other information Niall clearly isn’t telling him.

“That’s it? Why is she getting so uptight about the house and that fucking pillow?” Harry asks, completely bewildered and feeling more than a little out of the loop.

Niall shrugs and spins a little, inspecting the rest of the room to make sure it was up to standards.

“She doesn’t like him. He’s a dick.” He concludes, offering a smile through pursed lips and all Harry can really do is gape at the man.

Y/N, not liking another human being? That must be a joke. Harry waits for Niall to say so, but he doesn’t. He walks off with a little whistle and goes out to the backyard to help Dean and Maisee pull up the weeds.

Harry hums to himself and takes a deep breath. His pants are growing more uncomfortable by the second, hands growing clammy and he clears his throat. He’s alone in the lounge and the sun’s shining. It’s almost 3 p.m. and Harry has a class in forty minutes.

He’s nibbling on his bottom lip, wondering if he has time to quickly get himself off and not be late for class. Usually, he wouldn’t care, but his attendance is already falling and he doesn’t want a formal meeting with Aunt Cathy and his parents.

Harry says fuck it and takes for the stairs, bounding up them three at a time. He’s racing straight for his room and misses the way Y/N tries to call out for him to apologise, and he’s unknowingly slamming the door in her face right after.

She wanders off with a sigh and he’s stripping his clothes, leaving them as a trail from the foot of his bed to his bathroom. The water’s running as his cock hardens, chest slightly heaving and he lets out a shaky breath. Stepping into the shower, he leaves the door open and allows the steam to filter through the bathroom.

He’s standing directly beneath the showerhead, scolding hot droplets of water racing down his toned torso, few sitting in the divots of flesh that form his abs. His skin is still a little sunkissed from his time in New York, golden and tan and his cock jumps a little when the water pelts down on him and his rosy nipples are caught in the crossfire.

He’s thinking about her, about the way she scolded him and the harshness of her tone. He’s thinking about how hot she looked with all flustered with a heaving chest. The way her lips seemed fuller and eyes darker. He’s teasing himself at the thought of her whispering dirty things in his ear in that same voice—pinching his rosy nipple between his fingers and giving it a gentle twist.

He wonders what her lips would feel like around him.

His free hand gently slides down his front, softly grasping his rock hard cock in his hand. He seethes quietly, head thrown back as he teases his slit with the tip of his finger, a string of pre-cum connected from his head to the pad of his finger. He swirls his arousal over his length, knows it isn’t enough to get him going but it’s a start.

Harry isn’t sure if he wants to picture her spread out with legs wide or sinking down on her knees in front of him. He’s torn between two of the most orgasmic images he could ever muster up in his dirty little head and for a moment he wonders if he should even be thinking about her at all.

His worry quickly ceases when his mind makes the decision for him and he sees her sinking to her knees, staring up at him through those pretty lashes. He thinks her eyes would be blown, that she’d have this innocent look about her – stronger than what it already is.

Harry slowly pumps himself, sighing out in relief and he pictures her dainty little hands doing it for him, instead. He thinks about Y/N parting her pretty fucking lips for him, thinks what her warm tongue would feel like, her warm mouth wrapped around him. For a hot second, he’s sure he can feel her sucking on his cock, but he opens his eyes and she isn’t there, of course, she isn’t.

He lets out an aggravated sigh and pumps himself harder. His guttural groans bounce off the walls and he’s placing a firm palm against the shower door, steadying himself the best he can. His eyes are shut tight, mind taking over and all Harry can see is Y/N’s dripping fucking pussy just begging to be eaten, to be treated right.

He thinks he can taste her, smell her, and he’s so fucked at the idea of her playing with herself and making him watch. He wonders if she’d touch her pussy and shove her fingers in his mouth, allowing him to taste her, just not from the source.

He’s bucking his hips into his hand, picking up his pace and it feels so good, so good he isn’t sure how long he’s going to last. Harry thinks back to his first day here, to when he heard her crying out in pleasure from the other side of the wall as she touched herself. He wants her moaning like that in his ear, running her tongue up his neck as she fucks herself on his big cock.

He wants her crying out for him, begging him to go faster, harder. He wants to feel her tight little pussy sucking him up, squeezing him like the greedy little cunt he knows it is. He’s losing his rhythm, struggling to keep up the pace and he feels himself throbbing. He’s spluttering out guttural moans, growling in complete and utter ecstasy and soon he’s covering the glass of the shower door with his arousal, painting it with white ribbons.

Harry takes a deep breath, tries to steady himself and get back to reality when he realises who he just got himself off to.

//

It’s quiet, silent, almost. Y/N flicks her salad across her plate, appetite lost the second her father wandered through the front door. Grayson didn’t come alone (not that Y/N expected him to), he wandered through the door with a young blonde on his hip, who Y/N learned was only two years older than her.

“Dinner’s good,” Grayson mumbles with a hand over his mouth.

He’s dressed in an expensive grey suit and he’s got one of his many Rolex’ on his wrist. Y/N wants to smash it. Instead, she smiles through pursed lips and hums.

“Yeah, Mum’s recipe. You know, the one she made you seconds before she found out you’d been cheating on her with your assistant.” Y/N replies, tone void of any emotion and she takes a sip of her red wine.

Grayson drops his fork on his plate and glares at his daughter. His plus one, Miley, purses her lips and Y/N knows she feels awkward, and she almost feels bad for her, but then she remembers she’s only with him for his money and she isn’t that bothered again.

“Problem, Grayson?” Y/N makes it clear not to call him her father, doesn’t want to give him the title that he’s done fuck all to earn. That’s one privilege he won’t be given for free.

“Y/N Jane, watch your mouth,” Grayson warns, dark eyes stern and Y/N glares at the older man, wondering why he thought it would be a good idea to start growing out a beard.

“Or what? You’ll ground me? News flash, asshole, you don’t control me.” She spits, any and all hints of civilness completely diminished and she’s lost her filter along the way.

Grayson smashes his fist against the table and points to his daughter with gritted teeth, and Y/N’s thankful she didn’t inherit his bad temper.

The noise can be heard from upstairs and Harry puts his guitar down for a moment and tries to strain his ears. He knows Y/N is having a meal with her Dad downstairs, Niall made it very clear for everyone to stay away.

But now Harry’s a little thirsty and he can’t decide if it’s for water or some tea. He pushes himself up and off the bed, down the hall until he’s at the top of the stairs, leaning down a little so he can hear what’s going on.

“Reel it in, Y/N. You know you won’t get anywhere without me, so I suggest you pay me some respect.” He spits.

Y/N bows her head and bites back her poison, fingernails denting half-moons into the palms of her hand as she tries to calm herself down.

“I’m already getting somewhere on my own. I got myself this scholarship, and I’m paying my way with my own money.” She argues back through gritted teeth and Harry wants to back her up, knows how fucking hard she works and he’s suddenly desperate to defend her.

Grayson throws his head back with a sadistic chuckle, shaking his head and rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “Yeah… and the second you fuck this scholarship up or find yourself with no more money… you’re coming home with me whether you like it or not. You don’t get a fucking choice.” He grits his teeth.

Harry takes a step back in complete disgust and he can tell by Y/N’s silence that he’s hit a nerve. He doesn’t really have time to think before he’s bounding back to his bedroom and climbing out of his bedroom window. He didn’t think to put any shoes on, nor use the fucking door, but he hopes to God he hasn’t got the wrong message.

He climbs down the tree and bends his knees to stick his fall. Harry dusts his hands off on his sweatpants and takes a deep breath, curls an unruly mess. He shakes his shoulders off a little before reaching for the door and knocking three times.

He can hear Y/N pushing her chair out against the hardwood floor, along with her soft footsteps pattering to the door. She opens it, about to greet herself but falls short when she notices it’s only Harry and frowns. She thought he was upstairs.

“Harry?”

“Y/N! Thank God you’re home, I’m sorry it’s late but I’m desperate. I just found out what’s gonna be on the test tomorrow and it’s something I’m so unsure about, and I know you’re an incredible writer, can you help? There’s no way I’m passing this class without you.” He pleads out, and both Y/N and Harry are more than a little shocked at how believable his little act seems.

Y/N splutters for a moment before Harry raises his brow and silently tells her to go along with it. She nods her head and ushers him inside, noticing the lack of shoes as she peers down and she wonders how the fuck he got outside.

“Um…” before Y/N can somehow come up with a way to politely tell Grayson to fuck off, he’s wiping his mouth and standing from his seat, shaking his head.

“It’s fine, we were just leaving,” he tells them, Miley soon following and Grayson doesn’t bother to kiss Y/N’s forehead goodbye.

Instead, he brushes past both her and Harry while Miley awkwardly follows. Y/N stands there with pursed lips as she closes the front door. Harry watches her intently, notices the way her right brow twitches and he supposes it’s a tell of hers. She clears her throat and wanders to the kitchen, grouping up the half-empty plates from the table.

Harry helps, doesn’t miss the way Y/N looks at him as they empty the dishes and place them in the sink. He’s leaning against the counter when Y/N runs the water, grabbing the sponge and cleaning the plates off with soapy water.

“I’m sorry, about yesterday.” Harry breaks the silence with a soft apology.

Y/N stills, hands soaked in the sink as she takes in his words. His voice is soft and tender, and somehow, she knows he’s being sincere. She shakes her head and forces on a smile.

“It’s okay,” she mumbles back, stacking the plates on the dish rack and shaking her hands off.

Harry scoffs and hands her a kitchen towel to dry her hands. “No, it’s not,” he insists. “I was a dick and you don’t deserve that, ever.”

She’s avoiding his gaze so Harry dips his head and cranes his neck until he knows she can see him. She huffs out a small laugh and finally faces him, cheeks still a little flushed and Harry finally notices the dark circles under her eyes.

“It’s okay,” she shrugs.

Harry groans and widens his eyes at her playfully. “Stop saying that!” he exclaims, enticing the most beautiful fucking laugh from her lips and he can’t help but grin so happily at her.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” she laughs and Harry raises his hands in the air, can’t understand how this smart young woman doesn’t get what he’s saying.

“And don’t apologise! You have nothing to apologise for.” He reminds her, and Y/N thinks for a second, thinks about his complete change in personality and she wonders if this is just Harry when he’s relaxed; playful and kind. She wishes she always saw this side of him, the fluffy hair and flushed cheeks.

“Okay,” she whispers breathlessly as she stares at him.

Y/N notices a scar on his cheek, wonders if he got it from a bar fight or something a little purer like a childhood battle scar. She wants to rub her thumb over his soft skin and for a split second, she feels her hand reaching out to touch him, but she quickly stops herself.

Harry feels like his apology isn’t enough, that she deserves more. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back as he scratches the nape of his neck and clears his throat. He points up to the ceiling and scuffs his feet against the floor.

“I’m gonna uh, go back…” he trails off and he doesn’t know why he’s being so awkward.

Y/N giggles out a laugh and nods her head, shoulders light and she doesn’t feel as tense anymore.

“Goodnight, Harry.” she smiles softly, twiddling her fingers and Harry’s stomach does a little flip at it. He smiles and nods.

“Night, Y/N,” he whispers, turning around but looking back at her over his shoulder.

He makes his way upstairs with a silly lovesick grin and he doesn’t bother trying to hide it. He feels relieved, thankful. And it shows on his face when he pounces on the bed with a grin, heart thumping in his chest and he hopes to God maybe she feels the same, he just doesn’t know why.

//

It’s nearing five p.m. when Y/N comes strolling through the front door. She’s got a shit-eating grin on her face and excitement is seeping through her pores. She’s hopping on the balls of her feet as she closes the door behind her, cheeks beginning to ache but she can’t find it in herself to care.

She’s skipping through the foyer and straight into the kitchen when Raegan and Dean quickly jump away from each other. As if Y/N didn’t already know. She doesn’t say anything, can’t really think about anything other what’s to come tonight.

Dean squints at her. “What’s got you all chipper?” He asks and Y/N shies her face into her shoulder for a second before bouncing on her toes and clapping her hands.

“I have a date!”

Heads turn her way and Y/N finally acknowledges the rest of her housemates as they gather around her like she’s discovered fire.

“You… have a date? As in Y/N Jane Y/L/N, has a date?” Oliver quips, sheer confusion and disbelief laced in his tone and Y/N tries to not be wounded.

She scoffs instead. “Gee, thanks, Olly.”

He tries to stammer out that he didn’t mean it in the way she took it, but when Raegan swiftly jabs him in the ribs with an elbow, he falls silent.

“So….” Raegan raises her shoulders and brows expectantly and Y/N states at her blankly. “Who are you going on a date with!?” She hoots out, arms outstretched by her sides and wonders how her friend is so fucking absent all the time.

Y/N’s eyes ignite up and she grins. “Oh! Uh, Liam, the guy from the bar.” Y/N softly answers and she suddenly feels like they’re about to interrogate her, kill the lights and force her onto a stool. They don’t.

“Oh, you mean Liam from Psych 101.” Dean clicks his fingers and Y/N nods her head sheepishly.

It’s hushed for a moment. “Wow, really? Liam from Psych 101 asked you out?” He repeats and Y/N feels that little tug in the pit of her stomach.

Ah, they’re surprised, and by the tone of their voices and looks on their faces, she’s guessing they’re astounded that he asked her out, of all people.

“Liam from Psych 101 asked who out?” a gentle voice quarrels through the room.

Harry bounces in easily, an airy vibe to his mood. He locks eyes with Y/N for a moment and he offers a tender smile.

It’s been exactly nine days since he played the hero in her time of need, and they’ve spoken every day since. They’re friends, to say the least. And although neither of them are subtle with their lingering glances and sheepish smiles, they’re also both completely and utterly oblivious.

“Y/N… can you believe it.” Dean says, and both Harry and Y/N’s smiles plummet, though both for completely different reasons.

Harry just raises his eyebrows a little, hopes that they will lift the rest of his face and tug on the corners of his mouth to keep that fucking smile on his lips, though the frown lies heavy and he finds himself struggling.

“You’re going on a date.” He breathes out, nodding to himself as he clamps his bottom lip between his teeth.

Harry isn’t sure why the new information has plagued him, not when he’s still been seeing Corina every other day and the fact that there is absolutely nothing between him and Y/N that goes beyond the means of a flourishing friendship.

“Like… like a date date?” Niall peeks at his friend.

Y/N shrugs and offers a timid smile, tucking tufts of hair behind her ear and she glows just a little, though she isn’t sure why.

“So you’re missing movie night?” Mackey finally pipes up, words stifled by the piece of cake he’s just shoved in his mouth.

Y/N purses her lips and nods her head. She feels a little wrong. Movie night has always been her idea and she’s always given the other’s shit if they’ve missed one for whatever reason. Movie night is the equivalent of family night to Y/N, and she feels like she’s about to disappoint her family.

“Okay.” Raegan shrugs and Y/N feels a little load lifted from her shoulders.

It’s silent again and she can feel Harry’s indifferent eyes on her and she doesn’t quite know why.

“Um, Mais… will you help me get ready?” Y/N asks softly to her friend.

Maisee raises her head from the book she was reading, hasn’t bothered to acknowledge Y/N’s news. She’s has hardly spoken to Y/N since the night of Harry’s surprise party, and it’s beginning to bother her. Y/N isn’t sure if she’s done something to upset her friend, she just wants things back to how they used to be. Maisee evades eye contact as she clears her throat and stands from her seat.

“Actually, I’m kinda busy. I’m sure Raegan can help.” She stammers out, surging past the group and leaping up the steps. No one seems to notice the strain between them or the way Y/N’s smile sinks into a grimace.

Harry purses his lips and steps out of the room, silently trailing Maisee up the stairs and he hinders her before she can get into her bedroom.

“What the hell is your problem?” He quips out quietly.

She spins and frowns, books grasped to her chest and Harry takes a few more undecided steps toward her.

“Excuse me?”

Harry jeers. “Y/N. What the fuck is your problem with her? Ever since the party you’ve been a no-show when she’s needed you. And back there, you literally blew her off in front of everyone. So what the fuck is your problem?” He’s essentially fermenting.

Harry doesn’t know what comes over him, can’t understand why he’s so hellbent on fixing their friendship. Before Maisee can say anything, Harry’s shaking his head and turning his back to her, stomping off into his bedroom and slamming the door behind him.

Maisee stands there, dazed. She’s more than a little speechless but part of her isn’t surprised. She’s had an inkling that there might’ve been something going on between Y/N and Harry and now she’s dead certain there is.

He’s right though. Maisee’s been avoiding her. She blames herself, for what happened with Chris at Harry’s party, and she knows Y/N’s too fucking nice to blame her, too. Maisee drops her books off on the desk in her room, staring at the pinboard on the wall. There’s polaroids of them both, Y/N and Maisee, smiling and giggling without a care in the world.

Maisee takes a deep breath and wanders to Y/N’s bedroom, knocking on the open door and taking a step in. Y/N sits on the edge of her bed with a solemn look, gorgeous hair, that Maisee’s always been jealous of, covering her face and she picks at her fingernails. Nervous habit.

“Hey,” Maisee whispers, Y/N’s head snapping up and her eyes are wide, hopeful.

“Hi,” Y/N breathes and her shoulders raise as hope and love bubble inside her. She just wants her best friend back.

Maisee takes a seat beside her and smiles through pursed lips. “I wouldn’t have come up here if Harry didn’t convince me.” She admits, and part of Y/N appreciates her honesty. She stares at her with a slight frown and somewhat squinted eyes.

“Harry spoke to you?” She asks, and Maisee doesn’t bother to hide the humorous smile on her lips as she stares at the carpet beneath her.

“Yeah, reminded me of what a shitty friend I’ve been lately,” She chuckles out dryly.

Y/N purses her lips. “You haven’t—” She’s cut off with a sharp scoff.

“I have, don’t even try to deny it.” She insists.

Y/N stays quiet, stares at the carpet too and this is the most conversation they’ve had in three weeks.

“I’m sorry.” Maisee’s apology echos through the room and Y/N smiles softly, a little happier now.

Partly because she already forgave Maisee, the other part because Harry went out of his way to do something nice for her, for no reason. A blush squirms on her faded cheeks at the thought.

“Me too.”

//

It’s midnight.

Her feet are raw, her jaw throbs and she’s pretty sure her eyes resemble a panda’s. Her heels (that she borrowed from Maisee) are dangling from her fingertips by the straps and the soles of her feet are covered in dirt.

She’s silent, stealth like. She doesn’t want anyone to hear her sneaking in, nor see that look of utter exhaustion and embarrassment on her face. Her aching toes pad up the stairs, teeth clenched like that’ll somehow keep her movements light and silent.

She thinks she’s made it, that she could be considered for the Secret Service, but she forgets the uneven floorboard outside her bedroom and it creaks, reverberating through the empty hall. She stills for a moment, eyes clutched shut, lips pursed in a fine line like it’ll make a difference.

It doesn’t, and Harry pokes his head out of his door and smiles when he sees the side of her face that’s masked by her hair.

“Hey… how was your date?” He asks smoothly, running across his face and he stifles a yawn.

Y/N clears her throat and sniffs.

“Yeah, it was okay.” She mutters, uninterested. Harry frowns and steps out of his doorway and toward her.

“Just okay? What’s wrong? You sound upset.” He notices, warm hand caressing the side of her cold arm and she finally turns around to him.

She looks absolutely fucking devastated and something about her tottering eyes and quivering lips hurts him.

“He stood me up.” She sniffles, eyes flooding with fresh tears and he doesn’t have time to think before he’s pulling her into his chest and keeping her close.

She’s wailing into his soft, blue shirt and she feels so bad for ruining it with her makeup, but Harry shows he doesn’t care when he cradles her head snug into his chest and gently coos her.

“You’re okay, honey… it’s okay.” He isn’t sure where the nickname comes from, he’s never been one to use them, but it feels right, like it was made just for her.

Harry reaches behind her and opens her bedroom door, carefully ushering her inside and she sits on the foot of her bed as Harry detaches himself for her. He suddenly feels aloof. He reaches over and closes the door before making his way into her bathroom, grabbing a pack of makeup wipes from her sink and pulling one out of the packet.

“Hey, shh. Look at me, okay?” He whispers, benevolently guiding her hands from her face and he’s surprising himself with this new side of him.

Y/N swallows, breath caught in her throat as she does so and she’s so fucking enthralled by his kindness.

He gently wipes under her eyes, removing the smudged mascara stroking her soft cheek with his other hand. She stares at him for a moment, almost disregarding why he’s there, but then she remembers.

“Why am I never enough for anyone?” Y/N whimpers out and Harry quickly realises he’s on deep and untouched territory.

His mind is screaming at him to run, to get the hell out of dodge… but his heart beats softly and he knows he needs to stay. She needs company and comfort, and he… Well, he needs to know that she’s okay.

“You’re more than enough, honey. Don’t do that to yourself. He’s a dick, okay? He doesn’t deserve you.” Harry comforts her, makeup wipe on the floor as he cups her swollen cheeks in the palms of his hands.

“Y/N Jane, you are the kindest soul I have ever met. You are smart, talented, funny, strong. You are so beautiful, Y/N. I promise you.” His voice is straining like he’s desperate for her to hear and believe his words.

She does. For a fleeting moment, she does.

And then she kisses him.

Harry’s never been one to get nervous. Never had the experience of sweaty palms and frantic butterflies in his stomach, or a dazed head and blushed cheeks. But all at once he’s experiencing them when her lips meet his.

His mind is in a frenzy, body still as a rock and he can physically hear his heartbeat in his ears. He moves quickly, though. He cups her pretty little face in the palms of his hands and his eyes gently flutter closed. He’s losing himself in it, in her.

Her lips are sweet… plump and soft and Harry can’t believe he’s kissing her. Y/N threads her dainty fingers through his wispy curls and gives them a generous little tug. He’s seeing stars, his lips are tingling.

Y/N subtly slides her warm tongue between his lips, the sudden boldness catching Harry off guard and he pants slightly into her mouth. She tastes like cherries with a hint of peppermint and Harry finds himself completely mesmerised by it.

Harry’s hand sneaks its way to the back of her neck, slim fingers twirling her locks and tugging ever so gently, but it only makes her more eager. She’s shifting to the very edge of the bed, fingernails scratching at the nape of his neck and he lets out a soft groan against her lips.

Y/N pulls away, panting with what Harry can only guess to be a dizzy smile and she purses her lips to bite back a soft laugh.

“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.” She giggles through her embarrassment and Harry can feel the heat that rises to her cheeks.

He clears his throat, his forehead resting on hers and he nibbles on his bottom lip, savouring the taste of her that’s varnished him.

“No, it’s… it’s okay.” He tries to assure her, though there’s a thick silence that sits on them as they continue to lean into each other.

Harry doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. This isn’t like him, he doesn’t do this kind of shit. But it’s her, it’s Y/N and Harry doesn’t want to pull away. He doesn’t want to feel the coldness of her body not being close enough.

The silence becomes unbearable and Y/N really can’t help the bubble of obnoxious laughter that bursts out of her. She’s embarrassed, so fucking embarrassed and she hopes to God that Harry will never tell anyone what she just did.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” Her laughter rolls off into waves of soft whines and Harry thinks that she regrets it, regrets him.

It’s a sudden feeling of red hot fire all over and an unfamiliar sting in his gut. He’s hurt, he just doesn’t understand why.

“I should uh… I’ll go, let you get some sleep.” He clears his throat with a soft smile and Y/N finally pulls off from him, a fair distance between their lips again but she still can’t seem to tear her eyes away from them.

Y/N nods her head and lets out a soft smile, breathing still a little shaky and Harry has to remind himself that he’s not hers. It’s not his job to reassure her, to love her. It’s not his job.

“Yeah… uh, goodnight.” She stutters out, wiping her clammy hands on the sides of her black dress and Harry clears his throat for what feels like the tenth time tonight.

He leans up on his toes until he’s standing tall once more, brushing off his hands and wandering toward the door. She watches his back as he walks away and freezes when he slowly opens it.

“I uh, I took your advice, by the way. About Professor Lennon.” He tells her, back still facing her body but Y/N shoots up to her feet and her jaw slacks a little.

“I showed him some music. He wants me to write an original for him, a demo, by Wednesday.” He looks over his shoulder at her and she’s grinning so fucking wide, and Harry is almost certain he can see tears pooling in those gorgeous eyes of hers.

“I’m proud of you.” She whispers and this time, it’s Harry’s eyes that start to water.

He offers a smile through pursed lips and rushes out of her room and into his. The second he closes the door, his chest is heaving and he can still feel her body on his.

//

It’s noon when Harry leaves Professor Lennon’s room, guitar in one hand and music sheets in the other. There’s a cool breeze casting over the quad and students chatter softly as they study on the grass. Harry’s minding his own business when he notices a loud ruckus of chatter and laughter from a little further ahead.

“Should’a seen her, looked so fuckin’ stupid.” The blond snickers, his friends laughing along and Harry notices something familiar about him.

Harry squints at him a little longer until it clicks. Liam. He remembers that smug fucking face from when he looked him up on Instagram after leaving Y/N’s room last night.

Harry bites down on his tongue and makes his way over to the small group, their chatter and excitement dying down when they notice the unfamiliar face and Harry offers a feigned friendly smile as he sets his guitar case and music notes down against a tree.

“Hey, you’re Liam, right? The guy that stood up Y/N Y/L/N?” Harry asks, a hint of amusement in his tone and Liam grins, smacking a friend in the chest as he tries to buff himself out.

He looks so smug… proud, and Harry wants to wipe it off his face.

“Yeah, who are you?” He puffs out his chest and takes a step forward, shoulders rolled back and Harry can’t help but scoff to himself.

What the hell did Y/N see in this douche?

Harry rolls his tongue and clenches a fist, swinging it until his knuckles collide with Liam’s nose and he’s stumbling back as he clutches his bloody face.

It spirals from there, punches, kicks, hair pulling. It all goes so fast that Harry doesn’t feel the black eye and cut up cheek and brow until he’s sat in Aunt Cathy’s office and his hands and body are fucking throbbing. He caught a couple of kicks to the stomach, and even though Harry was beaten blue by four guys, Liam still looks worse than him.

Harry smiles to himself.

He’s so caught up in his own thoughts and ego that he blanks out the majority of the lecture Cathy gives them. Harry bounces his knee as he chews at the insides of his cheeks and Cathy quickly grows sick of his nonchalant.

“Liam, you can go.” She huffs, head nodding to the door and he scoffs something out under his breath, not giving Harry a second glance.

Cathy notices the limp in his walk and the way he holds his left arm as he moves and closes the door behind him.

She closes her eyes and sighs. “Strike one.” She tells him, doesn’t need to look at him to know that his stupid smile is wiped off his face.

She hears him clear his throat and croak out a half-assed apology that she doesn’t care for. She shoos him out of her room just as quickly and Harry’s begrudgingly walking toward his Jeep as he holds an ice pack to his knuckles and tries to ignore the iron taste of blood on his tongue.

He’s proud, that’s for sure. Knows Liam deserved it and Harry would quite happily lay into him all over again. He supposes he shouldn’t, though. He’s earning all kinds of looks from girls as he walks by them. Hungry eyes and pursed lips and Harry supposes they’re just desperate for a good fuck. He growls to himself at the idea but clears his head as he climbs into the Jeep and turns on the engine.

It’s proven a struggle when Harry tries to steer his way back to the house while holding his knuckles and his eye is beginning to close due to the swelling. He makes it, though, just about. He throws the Jeep in park and leaves it on the drive, staggering up the steps to the front door as he carries his music sheets and guitar in one hand.

Once he’s through the door, Harry decides he isn’t going back through it again today. He kicks his shoes off and heads straight upstairs. Harry only assumes the house is empty by the sheer silence of it and he discards his music sheets and guitar on the bed as he makes his way to the bathroom to take a shower.

His knuckles ache when the water cascades down his body, a large purple bruise forming around his eye and he debates whether or not he should go and find Liam to finish the job. He decides against it. He has homework.

Y/N is fuming. Her face is hot and her little hands are clenched into fists by her sides. She doesn’t bother greeting anyone when she gets home, completely ignores them all and takes to the stairs. She bounds up them two at a time, could do three if her legs were a little longer. Her heavy footsteps can be heard as she crashes down the hall, drowning out the chatter from everyone downstairs and Y/N barges straight into his bedroom.

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” She yelps out as she pushes the door open.

Harry’s got his back to her, pulling his white shirt over his head and he spins around with wide eyes. Y/N’s glare drops and her own eyes widen, watering just as quickly and her shoulder sag.

She covers her mouth with her hands. He’s got a black eye and a cut eyebrow. His sunkissed, tattooed stomach is bruised and her breathing is caught in her throat. Harry drops the shirt on the bed and scratches at the back of his neck, his muscles taut and she can’t look away.

“Harry,” She gasps out as she stretches for him, delicate fingertips pressing on his bruised torso but he pulls away with a hiss.

Y/N stares at him in grief and drops her hands to her side. “Why did you do that?” She asks breathlessly, her chest rising and falling and it burns her to see him like that.

He stares at her for a while, doesn’t understand why she’s so upset, so worried about him. He supposes it’s because she’s just a nice person, but another part of him, deep down, prays to God that she cares for another reason.

He shrugs, takes a step closer and brushes a strand of hair from her face—doesn’t want her to think he’s being cold by brushing her off just seconds prior. Harry finally gets a good look at her. Summer dress and tennis shoes with that florist’s apron wrapped around her front. Just like the first time they met.

Harry beams, heart ricocheting. He thinks back to the first time he saw her, how he supposed she was pretty. He looks at her now and sees the stars. Like she’s got this glowing tint around her silhouette and Harry swears she’s the most precious fucking thing he’s ever seen.

“He treated you like shit, Y/N/N.”

There he goes again, with the Goddamn nicknames.

She stares up at him like he’s the unknown eighth wonder of the world and she feels like her heart might leap out of her throat any second.

“Wasn’t going to let him get away with it.” His voice dies off into a whisper.

Their noses are almost touching and neither of them are quite sure how they’ve grown this close without moving. Harry’s still got his fingers in her hair, twirling the soft curls around and she’s unknowingly nuzzling into his touch. Y/N’s eyes flutter closed, feels like she’s on cloud nine and she’s struggling so fucking hard to keep her lips off his and her heart beats erratically.

Harry eyes her, watches the way her lashes gently flutter and he’s about to lean in, about to allow himself to taste her one more time, and then his phone rings. It’s an obnoxious blaring that breaks them apart and Y/N’s eyes look to the bed, reading the name that lights up the screen with the incoming call.

Corina x

Y/N feels her heart sink, knew it was too good to be true. As if someone like him could ever be interested in someone like her. She feels a bubble of hurt in her stomach and she swallows her insecurities, spinning on her feet and leaving Harry alone to stare at the phone on his bed.

He closes his eyes when he hears Y/N leave, a sigh slipping from his lips and he pinches at the bridge of his nose, feels so fucking stupid. He picks up the phone, raising it to his ear.

“What?” he spits out through gritted teeth, hand in his unruly curls and he tugs.

She invites him over, in that sickly sweet voice that he’s growing to hate lately. But it’s dripping with sex and he can tell she’s wet just by the way she’s breathing down the phone. Harry’s mind falls on Y/N for a moment, wondering if this is something he should be doing.

But he isn’t with Y/N, they’re not a thing, not even close, and Harry knows he needs to stop himself from imagining them as such.

“I’ll be there in ten.” He grumbles into the phone, shoving it in the pocket of his sweatpants and he struggles to put a shirt back on.

Harry shoves his feet into a pair of nearby sneakers, grabbing his keys and a jacket on the way out of his bedroom.

He bounces down the stairs, little Harry growing more and more excited the closer he gets to have her lips wrapped around him, but that lovely image is quickly torn from his mind when he sees Y/N speaking softly to a man with a familiar head of hair. Harry frowns, takes slow and easy steps down the stairs and he can smell the cologne he grew up with.

Y/N looks past him and up at Harry, heat on her cheeks and she smiles softly. He notices and spins around, an unimpressed look on his face and Harry gulps, brows still furrowed.

“Dad?”

“You’ve got some explaining to do, Harry.”

//

Shopping bags smack at their thighs with every step they take, but both young ladies have blocked that out since they walked past Claire’s seventeen minutes ago. It’s quiet for a Tuesday afternoon and Y/N’s quite thankful for it. She’s got her arm linked with Maisee’s as they pass the water fountain and slowly window-shop their afternoon away.

Y/N’s been blabbering non-stop since they left the house this morning. She’s told Maisee all the juicy details of the kiss, the way he held her and touched her. Maisee looked like she was about to combust with happiness and Y/N tried her hardest to calm her friend down, but that didn’t stop her from screaming it at the top of her lungs.

“But, who’s Corina?” Maisee huffs, brows furrowed and Y/N tries to hide her disappointment but it’s no use, Maisee knows her like the back of her hand.

She pinches Y/N’s arm and gives her a look, a look that tells her to stop comparing herself to someone she doesn’t even know. Y/N rolls her eyes.

“Did he meet her?” she asks quietly, like she’s afraid to mention the mystery girl again in case Y/N bursts into tears or breaks someone’s arm.

Y/N shakes her head with a sigh instead. “I think he was going to, but his dad showed up,” Y/N explains with a little shrug of her shoulders.

“Is he hot? He must be hot, Harry’s hot… he has to get his looks from somewhere,” Maisee mutters to herself, nibbling on her red stained bottom lip at the thought and Y/N cringes beside her.

“First of all, ew, gross. Second of all, he’s just… just a dad.” She doesn’t really know how else to describe the older man, other than that Harry’s the spitting image of him.

“Whatever, I’m ninety-three per cent sure Harry’s into you,” Maisee concludes, shoulders shrugging and she’s got that look on her face that says this isn’t up for discussion, and Y/N just sighs.

“What was his dad doing there anyway?” She asks again as they make their way to the parking lot, swarmed by darkness and sharp headlights of the cars that drive past.

Y/N shrugs again. That seems to be all she’s doing today.

“Probably because Harry got into that fight with Liam. Everyone knows about it,” Y/N mumbles out, worried that her name is attached to it and she doesn’t want to be associated with what happened, even if it did happen because of her.

“That is a prime example of him having feels for you,” Maisee points out as Y/N digs through her purse for her keys.

She pretends to ignore Maisee’s comment like she doesn’t hear it, but part of Y/N wants to believe her, wants it to be true. She shakes the thought from her head and unlocks the car, trunk popping open and they throw their bags inside.

“Where to? Wanna come do grocery shopping with me?” Maisee asks.

Y/N looks at her with squinted eyes, knows Maisee fucking hates doing the grocery shop on her own, but Maisee also knows she doesn’t have a choice. Y/N shakes her head as she starts the engine, watches her friend throw her head back with a drastic groan and whine.

“But… my car’s in the garage, remember? How am I meant to get to the store and bring all the stuff back?” Maisee argues, hopes that she might be able to guilt Y/N into it, but she’s not taking Maisee’s bullshit.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m letting you borrow my car.” She grins, pulling out of their parking space while Maisee wails.

//

He’s got a beer in his hand as he stares at the tree at the back of the garden. It’s hot, too hot, actually, and his shirt is long forgotten as sweat begins to pool in the little divots of flesh that sculpt his abs. They sit together in silence, father and son, and it’s eating at Harry… just wants to know where he stands.

After Richie showed up last night, Y/N had left them both to themselves where he gave Harry the Dad Look and sat him down in the kitchen, told him he needs he to get his act together or else. Harry knew the threat wasn’t empty, so it was also no surprise when Richie told him he was staying for a few days to keep an eye on him.

Subsequently, this meant no sex for Harry.

Richie’s sitting beside him, shirt by his feet and he’s got his arms behind his head as he relaxes in the sun lounger. He’s got a full chest of hair, something he always told Harry made him a man when Harry was younger, and sweat begins to glisten on his sunkissed skin. He’s relaxed, a beer beside him and a little smile on his lips, eyes hidden behind his black tinted sunglasses.

“How’s Mum and Gemma?” Harry breaks the silence, voice a little raspy after not speaking a word for over an hour and Richie hums at the mention of his beloved ladies.

“They’re good. Maybe you’d know that if you called once in a while,” he quips and Harry closes his eyes, knows his Dad is right and nods his head.

Richie feels bad. He shouldn’t, because what he said is true… but he knows his son, and he knows how much Harry loves his Mum and sister. He also knows that Harry distances himself for his family when he feels himself spiralling, or feels like he’s a disappointment. Richie doesn’t tell Harry that’s the real reason he’s here… to remind him he is loved.

“Mum’s okay, she misses you,” Richie says, Harry nodding with a hint of a smile on his lips.

He misses her, more than anything. And he knows she’s only an hours drive away, but he doesn’t think he can face her. Doesn’t want to disappoint her.

“And your sister… well, she’s sixteen going on twenty-five and I can’t keep up,” Richie laughs out, eyes crinkling behind his glasses and Harry does the same. If anyone were to walk past, they’d probably think they were looking at the same person, just twenty-five years apart.

It’s silent again for a brief moment when their laughter dies down and Harry’s left in his thoughts. Richie chews on his bottom lip, stares at the grass.

“You gotta get your shit together, Harry.” He mumbles out to his son, doesn’t miss the way Harry’s head whips round to face him but Richie keeps his focus on the green grass across the garden.

“You want to pursue music but you’re not gonna get anywhere with it if you get kicked out of this place. I’m serious, Harry. What’s going on with you?” Harry looks away.

He thinks about Richie’s words, knows he’s right, like always, and it hurts. It hurts to be the family disappointment.

“I don’t know,” he whispers out, brows knitted together and he picks at his bruising knuckles, doesn’t wanna look at his Dad and see the sadness on his face.

Richie sighs and sits up, legs hanging over the side of the chair and he leans his elbows on his knees.

“We’re always going to be proud of you, Harry. You’re my son, and I love you. You just gotta figure out what’s going on in your head. You’re not seventeen anymore. It’s time to grow up.” It isn’t a lecture or a telling-off, it’s advice, solid advice that Harry needs to follow.

He nods and tilts his head, smiles through pursed lips and Richie smacks him on the back of his shoulder in a loving matter.

“Now enough of this sappy shit, go get me another beer.” Richie smacks him again as he swings his legs back onto the sunlounger and relaxes, Harry’s sweet laughter music to his ears and he can’t remember the last time he heard his boy laugh like that. It’s nice.

Harry’s still smiling to himself when he wanders into the kitchen through the back patio doors, giggling softly when he opens the fridge and pulls out to cool cans of Corona. He kicks the door shut, about to go back into the garden when he hears the front door open and the muffled voice of Y/N call out, “Anyone home? Little help!”

He spins and approaches the door, watches as she’s weighed down by at least twelve shopping bags and she struggles to keep the door from closing on her with the side of her foot.

“Oh, shit, Y/N.” His eyes widen at her struggle and he quickly places the beers on the counter behind him, racing to her and taking the majority of her bags from her quivering arms.

Y/N sighs out in appreciation and kicks the door shut, shoving the bags to the floor and Harry does the same. She pushes her straightened hair from her hair and lets out a breath, looking up at Harry and drinking him in. God, he looks so good, she thinks and forces herself to look away from his sweating torso.

“You okay, honey?” he asks with a soft laugh, a small smile beaming on her lips and she nods breathlessly, wiping her clammy hands on her ripped jeans.

“Yeah, Maisee had me drag all this in because I wouldn’t do the grocery shop with her,” Y/N explains and Harry rolls his eyes in the nicest way he can.

“She knows the rules,” he replies and Y/N raises her eyebrows, nodding in agreement but they both know that doesn’t make a difference.

“You been sunbathing?” she asks with a soft laugh, wandering into the kitchen.

Harry walks behind her and nods, clearing his throat when he realises she doesn’t see the reply.

“Yeah, it’s nice out,” he says, scratching the back of his neck when he sees her reach up to grab a glass from the cupboard.

She turns and smiles at him when she gets it, running the tap and she squints her eyes, smile only growing. Harry squints back at her, a nervous smile on his face and he wonders why she’s looking at him like that.

“What?” he asks cautiously and she shakes her head, filling her glass and shutting the water off.

“Your hair looks good like that.” Y/N grins, eyes up the black headband he’s using to keep his curls from falling in his face and Harry blushes like crazy when he realises. He purses his lips to hide his grin and Y/N splutters into her glass of water as she tries to take a sip.

Harry shakes his head and reaches for the fruit bowl.

“Oh, you’re so funny, aren’t you, honey,” he teases as he picks off a single grape, throwing it at her forehead and they both shriek when it bounces off and into her glass of water.

Harry giggles as he walks closer, takes her hand in his that holds the glass. She stares at him as he dips his fingers into her water and pulls out the grape, popping it into his mouth and he smiles.

“Almost as sweet as you,” he mumbles and Y/N can’t help but roll her eyes and splutter out a laugh.

She turns and pours the rest of her water down the sink but Harry just watches the side of her face as she tries to hide her smile.

Richie watches them both from the patio doors, his shirt back on and sunglasses sitting on the top of his head. He watches the way Harry looks at her, the glimmer in his eyes and the ghost of a smile on his lips. He knows the look because it’s the same look he gives his wife… the love of his life.

Richie clears his throat, decides he’s seen and heard enough and Y/N spins around, eyes a little wide but she relaxes when she sees who it is.

“Mr. Styles, hi,” Y/N greets him with a smile and Richie nods his head at her.

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiles back and Harry watches from across the room.

He reaches for the beers and takes a few steps closer until he’s behind Y/N, towering over her.

“You comin’?” He asks her softly, feels her side brush against him when she turns and she smiles gratefully but shakes her head.

“No, I’ve got work in ten and then I’m at the diner until close,” she explains with pursed lips. Harry nods, heart aching and this time, Harry knows what it is. Disappointment.

“Anyways, enjoy the sun. See you guys later.” Y/N bids them goodbye before she slips past Harry and jumps up the stairs two at a time, heading to her bedroom to grab her apron and diner uniform, and she’s out the front door just seconds after.

//

It’s almost 5 p.m. and Y/N is tired. The flower shop has been quiet, the regular old man Mike coming in at three for flowers for his wife, a couple of party planners and young girl buying flowers for her mother.

Y/N’s feet are starting to ache but if she acknowledges it now, it’ll make her seven-hour shift at the diner hell. She’s removing thorns from a bunch of roses at the counter when she hears the little bell above the door sound.

She looks up and places the clippers on the counter, a small smile on her lips when she sees who it is.

“Hi,” she beams, happy to have some sort of human interaction after sitting in the shop alone for almost an hour.

Richie smiles and makes his way to the counter and Y/N notices the sparkle in his eyes. The same sparkle as Harry’s.

“What can I get you?” she asks politely, hands leaning on the counter and Richie takes a second to appreciate the beautiful flowers that decorate the shop.

“I go back home tomorrow, wanna get some flowers for my lady.” He tells her, asks for the brightest and prettiest bunch of flowers she can.

Y/N grins and accepts the challenge, leaves the counter to pick different flowers from pre-assembled bunches and she brings back more than enough to the counter. Richie watches the small smile on her face as she picks and places them together, cutting most down to size.

She’s not like Harry’s normal type, Richie thinks. Harry’s never had a thing for quiet girls before, at least not that Richie knows of anyway. She’s a sweet girl, seems to have her head on straight and he knows she’s serious about her education and life in general. Richie thinks she’s exactly what Harry needs and his heart bursts a little.

“So, how long have you been seeing my boy?” He asks out of the blue and Y/N almost snips the tip of her finger off.

She places the scissors down and lets out a shaky, breathy laugh. She clears her throat and places the flowers onto the counter, looking up at the older man and he stares at her, expectantly.

“No, uh… we’re not..” she trails off, but Richie raises his eyebrows higher, not buying her excuse. “We’re friends, known each other about two months now.” She defends, though she isn’t sure why she feels so defensive, like she needs to make him believe what she’s saying.

Richie nods and squints at her, humming an “mhm” like he knows something she doesn’t.

“What?” she laughs awkwardly, heat rising to the apples of her cheeks and Richie just smiles at her, like he’s so proud and thankful, but all Y/N is, is confused.

He shakes his head.

“Nothing…” She knows he has more to say, so she raises her brows and he huffs. “Just that in all the years I’ve raised Harry, I’ve never known him to use endearing nicknames… and I heard him call you two in a matter of ten seconds back in the house.” Y/N grows shy, sinks into herself a little at his words and she doesn’t know what to do or say.

“Not to mention he looks at you the way I look at the love of my life, but hey, what does an old man like me know.”

He smiles kindly and Y/N begins to spiral deep in her thoughts, unable to come up with a believable excuse and her mouth runs dry, heart thumping like there’s no tomorrow as she mindlessly finishes assembling Richie’s bouquet. She places it on the counter as he drops a twenty beside it, taking the bouquet in his hands and smelling the flowers.

“Thank you for the flowers, Y/N.” He smiles at her, but she’s completely frozen in her spot, brows furrowed slightly and Richie spins around, reaching for the door when she finally snaps out of the daze she put herself in.

“Richie!” She calls out before he has the chance to open the door, his name a pleasant shock and he raises his brows at her. She scuffs her feet behind the counter.

“What do you mean Harry doesn’t do nicknames? Why not?” She asks, curious, and the question alone tells Richie everything he needs to know.

He smiles at the girl. “To Harry, nicknames mean attachment, and Harry’s never let himself get attached to anyone.” He explains, voice soft and barely audible but Y/N hears and hangs onto every word he utters.

Before she can even process them and ask him something else, the door is chiming and he’s gone.

//

It’s past one when Y/N stumbles into the house. Her feet are completely raw and her legs are frozen after walking home from the diner in a yellow miniskirt. She closes the front door behind her, kicking off her tennis shoes and rubbing the sleep from beneath her eyes. She’s shrugging her jacket off when she hears it from upstairs—the yelling and stomping.

She frowns and hangs her jacket on the wall, small steps leading her to the bottom of the stairs. A tall blonde, well, taller than Y/N, comes bounding down the stairs, her jeans half buttoned and shirt all messed up. She’s furious, red in the face and gritting her teeth. Y/N’s about to ask if she’s okay when she shoves into her and almost knocks her flying.

Harry’s bounding down the stairs just as quick, catching Y/N’s arm before she can hit the floor and pulling her into him. Her palm presses against his bare chest, feels the fine hairs that decorate his skin and she’s overwhelmed and confused. It’s not until she puts the pieces together that she realises the girl is Corina and her and Harry have clearly just ended their night in a different way than planned.

Corina notices the lingering touch they share and the way he stares at her, eyes frantic like he’s making sure there’s not a scratch on her, and she scoffs. She stares at Y/N in disgust, knows who she is and she can’t help but stare at her clothes, blood boiling.

“Of course, she’s a fucking waitress.” And Y/N’s offended, doesn’t understand what she’s done to get the sharp end of this.

Just as quickly as she spits the words, she’s running out of the door and leaving it wide open. Harry says nothing, doesn’t follow her, just closes and locks the door before turning back to Y/N.

“You okay? Did she hurt you?” He asks gently, reaching for her again and she shakes her head, cuddling into herself out of coldness and confusion.

“What was all that about?” she breathes softly, doe eyes staring up at him and he’s suddenly blushing, scratching the back of his neck, which Y/N has learnt to be a nervous habit of his.

“We… got into an argument. I don’t think I’ll be seeing her again.” He admits and Y/N tries to hide the giddiness she gets from his words. He won’t be seeing her again.

“Oh.” Is all she says, wiggling her toes in her ankle socks and Harry rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet.

It’s awkward, like she came home at the wrong time and saw something she wasn’t supposed to, and Y/N doesn’t know what to do. So she stands there with pursed lips.

“How was work?” Harry asks, breaking the silence and Y/N nods her head.

She debates whether or not she should tell him she saw his dad, whether she should mention anything about the whole nickname situation. She doesn’t. Instead, she says, “It was okay,” and leaves it like that.

Harry nods his head and they’re back to that stupid silence again. Neither of them can understand why they’re being so weird about what just happened, it’s not like they kissed… again.

“Anyway, I’m super tired, so… I’m gonna head to bed,” she tells him, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder and Harry’s so fucking thankful she’s ending this weird conversation.

He nods, bids her goodnight as she slowly creeps up the stairs. He watches her up, offers her a wave when she looks back at him over her shoulder and pinches the bridge of his nose when she’s out of sight.

“Jesus Christ.”

//

There’s nothing worse than having a perfect dream and being abruptly torn from it. Y/N learns that the hard way when her obnoxious phone blares out her ringtone. She blindly reaches for her nightstand, eyes struggling to adjust to the light that filters through her room and Y/N lets out a loud groan, forgetting the field of daisies and the boy that ran with her.

She grabs her phone, accepts the call without looking at the caller and brings it to her ear.

“Hello?” She lets out groggily, brows pinched and her head sinks further into her duck feather pillow. A screech is heard from the other line and Y/N pulls her phone away from her ear with a wince.

“Happy twenty-fourth, baby!”

It’s her Mum, she knows it. Y/N grins sleepily to herself, stretching her tired limbs and she brings the phone back to her ear.

“Thanks, Mum,” she raps out softly, eyes still struggling to adjust to the morning light and her stomach flips.

“What are you doing today? I’m sorry I can’t be there to celebrate with you, honey,” Jane rambles on.

Y/N knows she’s probably holding back her tears and beating herself up about it, but she wishes she wouldn’t. Wishes Jane believed her when she says it’s okay.

“It’s alright, Mum. And I don’t know… I’m not sure if Maisee’s got anything planned or not,” Y/N shrugs, but part of her kind of hopes they make a small fuss. She wouldn’t mind pancakes for breakfast and maybe take out in the evening.

“I’m sure she does, you know what Maisee’s like.” Jane laughs, considers her to be a second daughter and Y/N laughs too.

It’s quiet for a brief moment and they both bask in the comfort of just knowing they’re somewhat together.

“I’m really sorry I can’t make it this weekend,” Cindy continues to apologise.

Y/N sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, shaking her head and she just wants her mother to understand that she understands. Y/N knows her mother is a hard worker, knows she’s never had anything just handed to her and Jane has brought Y/N up the same way.

Y/N grew up watching her mother fight for what they had, work seventeen-hour shifts just to make sure there was enough food on the table and to buy Y/N the books she needed for school.

Y/N watched her mother claw her way up the nursing ladder for years, comforted her on the nights she’d come home in tears after losing a patient, cooking her dinner at three in the morning when she got home from a long shift. Y/N was her mothers’ mother and they were each other’s best friends.

“Mum, stop… I’m coming back to Kingston in a few weeks for spring break anyway, it’s okay, it’s just a birthday,” Y/N shrugs it off and Jane knows her daughter’s being completely honest. They’ve never lied to each other and Y/N wasn’t about to start now.

She hears Jane sigh from the other line and a little smile graces Y/N’s lips. She won.

“Okay, you win. Your card should come in the mail today and you get your presents when you come home. That okay?” Y/N smiles and sits herself up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and she can only imagine the mess her hair must be.

“That’s perfect, mum,” she sighs out.

“Okay, I’m gonna go. I got my final assessment in an hour and I need to get to work. Have a great birthday, baby. I love you!” Jane sends kisses down the phone.

Y/N laughs. “Bye, mum. Good luck, let me know how it goes. Love you!”

They end the call and Y/N throws her phone to the empty right side of her bed, sinking back into her pillow and she blows a few strands of hair out of her face.

Twenty-four and she doesn’t feel any fucking different.

Her morning routine is the same. Y/N gets out of bed and uses the bathroom, washes her face and brushes her teeth, makes her bed and has a quick shower. She dresses in a flowy, yellow summer dress and slips her feet into her Converse. Y/N lets her natural waves cascade past her shoulders and down her back as she fills in her brows and coats a layer of mascara to her lashes.

She’s bounding down the stairs soon after, tucking hair behind her ear. It’s quiet, only soft mumbles in the kitchen from her housemates. Y/N reaches the bottom of the stairs when she notices the lack of banners and balloons. Part of her is thankful no one has made a big deal out of it, but another part of her feels a little disappointed.

Y/N makes her way through the foyer and into the kitchen with a beaming smile, a little skip in her step but no one acknowledges her presence. There’s no birthday cards or a smiley group of friends. There’s no pancakes.

Y/N purses her lips. “Morning,” she mumbles out, swaying on the balls and heels of her feet and everyone mutters out a ‘hi,’ in the most disinterested way possible.

Maisee’s got her head in her phone as she picks at her cereal. Dean and Raegen are too busy whispering like children with small smiles on their faces. Mackey and Oliver are half asleep on the counter and Harry’s sitting across from them all, earphones in and his MacBook on his lap.

“You got mail, by the way,” Maisee waves her hand to the front door, not bothering to look up from her phone and a very heavy sinking feeling sits in the pit of Y/N’s stomach.

They forgot about her birthday.

Y/N nods and quietly thanks her, feet shuffling back to the front door and she picks up the three letters addressed from her.

She stares at them, knows the cursive writing on the first one is from her grandma and grandpa, the one with the writing that resembles hers is from her mother, and the one with the printed text right off the computer is from her father. She’s shocked he remembered.

Y/N shakes her head and takes a minute to compose herself, throws the cards back onto the little entry table and clears her throat. She shouldn’t be upset that her friends forgot her birthday, she’s never liked a fuss made of her anyway, she shouldn’t be upset.

Y/N tugs her sundress down her hips a little, wiggles her toes and wanders back into the kitchen. No one pays much mind to her, save for Harry, who peers up at her with lidded eyes but she misses the curious squint he offers.

She grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and bumps it closed with her hip.

“What’s everyone doing today?” she asks as she uncaps her water.

She earns a collection of mumbles that she somewhat translates to 'nothing much,’ and Y/N gnaws on her bottom lip.

Harry watches her, notices the harsh disappointment on her soft features and he’s so confused as to what’s going through her head. He wants to ask her, pull her aside and make sure everything’s okay, but they haven’t spoken in four days, since that whole situation with Corina, and he’s beginning to think he’s done something to upset her.

He hasn’t spoken to Corina, either. Blocked her number and deleted her on any socials he had her on. He took his dad’s advice, started a fresh.

Harry’s been focusing on his school work and writing songs for Professor Lennon the past few days and if he’s being honest, he feels good.

“Okay,” Y/N says to herself, pops her cap back on the water and she purses her lips. “Well, I’m going to work. Guess I’ll just see you all later,” she mumbles, eyes downcast and Harry’s almost fucking certain he sees her bottom lip quiver a little.

//

It’s been a shit day, to say the least. The milkshake machine threw up on Y/N within the first ten minutes of her shift starting, and her stupid boss refused to let her go home to change. She’s been verbally abused by customers all afternoon, a bunch of bikers riding through town and trying to cop a feel while she was waiting on them.

She’s felt icky all day and she just wants to go home, shower, and forget about the complete and utter disaster of her forgotten twenty-fourth birthday. She’s close to tears when she parks outside the house and the Nissan stinks of banana split.

Her grandparents called her on her break, wished her love and happiness, and she’s still to hear from her father, but that much is expected. Y/N’s kicking the rubble beneath her feet when she makes her way up the steps to the porch.

The lights are off and she supposes everyone’s out. It’s 10 p.m. on a Saturday night, there’s no reason for them to be home, and Y/N’s thankful for the chance to cry in peace.

But when she pushes through the door and flicks the light on, there are bodies jumping out from every hidden corner, balloons on the ceiling and party poppers are going off in her face.

Y/N lets out a frantic scream, hands covering her face and she can hear music and laughter. She squints her eyes open, heart dropping and stomach swirling.

“Happy 24th, Y/N!” Maisee screams at the top of her lungs, pretty dress holding her hips and Y/N feels severely underdressed.

Maisee pulls her into a hug, kisses her forehead and pushes her to greet her guests. Everyone’s there. Her friends from her English study group and other classes, a few of Mackey and Olly’s friends that she’s spent time hanging with. It’s everyone she knows and she couldn’t be more grateful.

“Oh my God,” she breathes out, tears in her eyes and she swears she’s about to burst into tears.

She’s pulled into hugs from everyone, chatting and drinking and dancing and she feels so fucking good, feels the thing everyone says she would. She feels liberated.

“Let me change, hold on,” she tells Maisee as she tries to drag Y/N out to the backyard.

Maisee rolls her eyes but lets her, nonetheless. Y/N’s running up the stairs with a grin, untying her apron and shimmying out of her skirt in the process. She’s in only her underwear when she closes the door, making for the closet when she sees something on her nightstand.

A bouquet of trilliums sits on the surface, a tall bag of Horlicks beside it and Y/N frowns as she picks up the folded flower card that leans against her lamp.

Happy Birthday….

Saw the flowers and thought of u.

Oh and I used all ur horlicks so here’s a new bag, you were right, I’m out like a light after LOL.

Love, Harry x

Y/N blushes, heat rising through her body and she can’t help but giggle at her gift, but she’s still thankful, nonetheless. She gently places the card back on her nightstand before rummaging through her closet, opting on a black, floral wrap dress and she’s bouncing back down the stairs.

//

It’s been two hours and Y/N’s feeling brave. She’s drinking a little more than she knows she should (three drinks being the usual limit and she’s now on her fifth), but she’s enjoying herself. She’s wedged on the couch between Maisee and the armrest, her head on her friend’s shoulder and Maisee coos her.

“You’re so great, Mais,” Y/N sighs out, eyes fluttering closed and she’s growing even more appreciatively grateful for the little get together her best friend had assembled.

“I know, baby,” Maisee tells her, a smirk on her lips and Y/N lets out a snorted giggle.

It’s quiet for a few seconds, save for the music and the laughter of the other partygoers. Y/N takes a moment to sober up a little, to sift through her thoughts and she’s only now realising that she hasn’t seen Harry all night and she remembers the flowers on her nightstand.

“Is Harry here?” she asks quietly.

Y/N feels dirty, like she shouldn’t be asking such an innocent question, and in her hazy state, Maisee nods through a yawn.

“Think he’s in the yard,” she tells her and Y/N hums.

She waits on the couch for a few more passing moments and nibbles on her bottom lip. She debates whether she should go through with what she wants to do… whether she actually has the guts to tell him what she needs to. But before Y/N can fully comprehend those thoughts, she’s telling Maisee she needs the bathroom and she’s searching for him.

Y/N weaves through her friends and acquaintances, one goal on her mind and she’s eager to tell him. She prays he feels the same, he must do. She can’t stop thinking about everything Richie told her, about the longing looks, the nicknames. Y/N’s certain there’s something between them, she can feel it in her bones.

She makes her way into the kitchen, trying to suppress her beaming smile and she searches for his fluffy head of curls, knows he hasn’t been slicking them back lately, even if they have been avoiding each other since that night with Corina.

She’s on her tiptoes, surprised by how crowded the kitchen is and when she sees that mop of brown curls, her smile grows to twice its size. She can see the tight pink shirt he’s wearing and the black corduroy pants, and he looks good, so good.

Y/N’s about to move closer when the man in front of her, that was blocking her view, wanders off and she can see his pretty face so clearly. But the smile slips from her face just as quickly as it appeared as Harry dips his head down and envelops another girl’s lips with his.

It’s like she’s drowning. Her heart sinks to the pit of her stomach, knees tingling and her throat feels like it’s closing in. Everything around her is black and white, everything but him and her. The air is being sucked out of the room and she feels that familiar feeling of impending doom crashing over her.

You’re so stupid, Y/N. He never liked you!

She’s almost panting for air when she watches Harry pull away, a cocky smirk on his lips and the girl beside him looks fucking gorgeous as she tries to catch her own breath. Y/N knows that kiss, knows the way it makes someone’s knees buckle and head grow cloudy.

Y/N doesn’t feel the tears that begin to pool in her eyes, but she feels all self-confidence quickly evade her nerves and she feels so fucking small. Harry feels eyes on him and he doesn’t expect to see a heartbroken Y/N staring right at him.

He sees the pain in her eyes and the little twitch of her lips as they curve into a frown. Harry lets go of the girl beside him, didn’t have any interest in learning her name at the beginning of the night and he certainly doesn’t have any interest now.

He’s focused on Y/N and the way she tries her hardest to give him an encouraging smile, despite the fact that she’s fucking crumbling within herself. She nods her head and spins on the heels of her feet and Harry doesn’t miss the frown that quickly takes over her fake smile before she’s rushing for the front door.

Harry doesn’t say a word to the girl beside him, just brushes past her and follows Y/N. Harry doesn’t know why he chases after her or feels the need to tell her the kiss meant nothing, but he also doesn’t give himself a chance to think about it. He just needs to get to Y/N.

He thinks he’s lost her when he gets to the lounge, can’t see any sign of her pretty black dress or her full head of hair but then he sees the front door slowly swing closed and he stops it before it locks, rushing outside and closing it behind him.

The air is cold, freezing, actually and he can see her shivering as she sits on the bottom steps of the front porch. Harry purses his lips and slowly eases closer to her, sits beside her and stretches his legs out the best he can. She’s silent beside him, too busy staring at the concrete beneath them.

Y/N takes a deep breath. It’s now or never, she tells herself. Harry’s oblivious beside her.

“I don’t know when I’m next gonna feel confident enough to do this, and hell, maybe I shouldn’t be doing this at all, but I need to. I need to,” she mutters out, brows knitted like she’s trying to convince herself and Harry can’t help but frown in confusion.

She turns around, eyes watering and he gets a good look at her. She looks distraught, but in the most fucking beautiful way possible.

“Honey… what’s going on?” Harry whispers, doesn’t miss the way her breathing hitches in her throat and his hands are growing clammy and he’s got that uneasy feeling in his stomach again.

“I like you,” she blurts out, eyes wide and Harry blinks. “Like, I wanna be with you, like you,” she’s whispering as her voice dies out from its confidence to uncertainty.

She can hear her heart pounding heavily in her ears and Harry clears his throat, feels like it’s about to close in on him.

He can’t believe it, it can’t be true. Harry stares at her for a few moments, tries to find any indication that she’s joking, or if it was a spur of the moment thing, but all he can see are insecurities and pure adoration and she’s swaying just a little.

“Y/N,” he begins, taking her cold, dainty hands in his huge ones and he rubs his thumb against the divots of her knuckles.

“You’re drunk, petal,” he laughs lightheartedly, like he needs to believe that’s the reason she’s saying this… like he doesn’t deserve for her to mean it.

Y/N shakes her head and pulls her hands out of his grasp, standing to her feet and pacing in a small circle.

“No… I mean, maybe a little, but I’m still honest,” she reasons and she’s in her head again, drowning in her insecurities like every other night.

“But it’s okay, you don’t have to like me back, it’s nothing new. I don’t expect for someone as incredible as you to even glance at someone like me. It just doesn’t ever happen, I should know that by now,” Y/N rambles to herself, let’s her fears and self-doubt feast on her and Harry grabs her hand and gently tugs so she’s sitting beside him again.

She plops down, pout weighing on her pretty lips and Harry brings her hands to his mouth, peppering kisses to her knuckles.

“Y/N, you are incredible. Not me. I don’t deserve you,” he tells her breathlessly.

His heart is aching and he just wants to hold her. It’s an odd emotional reaction for Harry, but he doesn’t question it.

“If I’m so incredible, how come no one wants me?” Y/N sniffles, her nose a little runny and Harry’s lip involuntarily pouts back at her.

She doesn’t expect the impact of his soft lips on hers, but she doesn’t fight it either.

Harry holds her clammy cheeks in the palms of his hands, suckles softly on her bottom lip and Y/N loses all sense of reality. Her fingers thread through his curls as she tugs at them softly, kisses him back with all of her drunken might and neither of them mind the taste of alcohol on the others tongues.

“I want you,” he whispers against her lips.

//

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