Summary: Y/N is outgoing, Harry is shy. They become flatmates and don’t expect much. But shared silence, small routines and his unfinished music start to change everything.
———————
The flat was quieter than Y/N expected.
Not empty, there was the distant hum of traffic through the window, the occasional creak in the pipes like the building was still deciding whether it wanted to behave properly, but quiet in a way that felt intentional. Like it hadn’t yet chosen what kind of life it was going to hold.
Y/N stood in the middle of the living room with a half open suitcase at her feet and a mental list that already felt outdated; buy lamps, get groceries, pretend this isn’t overwhelming.
The walls were off white. The carpet had clearly given up years ago. The window let in pale afternoon light that made everything look slightly softer than it really was.
It wasn’t much. But it was hers now.
The key turned in the lock, Y/N looked up quickly.
The door opened slowly, like whoever was on the other side wasn’t entirely sure they were allowed to exist in the same space as her.
He stepped in first, Harry.
That was all she knew, name on the lease, scribbled neatly beside hers. He froze the second he saw her, one hand still on the door, the other holding two worn suitcases that looked like they had traveled more than he had.
“Oh,” he said.
Like he hadn’t expected another human being to be part of the deal.
Y/N blinked, then smiled immediately, easing the moment on purpose. “Hi.”
A pause.
He nodded a little too fast. “Hi. You’re Y/N?”
“That’s me.”
“Right,” Another pause. He looked like he was mentally checking a list no one had given him. “M’ Harry.”
“I figured” she said lightly.
That earned a flicker of something on his face almost a smile, but like it didn’t know if it was allowed to fully exist yet.
“Okay,” he said quietly, as if confirming reality.
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward exactly. Just unpracticed.
Y/N decided to fix that immediately.
“So,” she said, gesturing vaguely around the flat, “This is it. Our glamorous new lifestyle.”
Harry let out a small, surprised breath that might’ve been a laugh if it had been braver.
“Yeah, pretty luxurious”
“That’s the spirit!” she said.
He looked at her then, like he wasn’t used to people filling silence on purpose.
It made him even more interesting.
Harry picked up his bags again.
“I’ll take the room at the end of the hall, if that’s okay?”
Y/N nodded instantly. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’ve already mentally claimed the other one anyway.”
That got a real reaction, just a small one. His mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile.
“Good,” he said. Then after a beat, “I mean, not good. Just, efficient.”
Y/N grinned “We love efficiency.”
He nodded again, like he was relieved there was a system to this conversation now.
Then he disappeared down the hallway.
———————
The flat changed once Harry started moving through it.
Doors opened and closed softly. Fabric shifted. The low thud of belongings being set down carefully echoed through the walls like he didn’t want to disturb the building too much.
Y/N unpacked slowly, but not because she was overwhelmed, more because she kept pausing to listen to the soft hum of a melody that carried through the air.
There was music coming through the wall.
Faint. Uneven. A guitar, maybe.
It started simple, uncertain chords, like someone testing whether sound was safe in this new space. Then stopping. Then trying again, slightly different each time, like he was searching for something without knowing what it looked like.
Y/N stopped folding a shirt halfway through.
She listened properly now.
It wasn’t polished. It didn’t feel meant for anyone else. It felt like it was just, happening. Private, accidental honesty.
Then it stopped. The silence afterward felt heavier than before.
Y/N frowned slightly, then shook it off and kept unpacking.
———————
Later, they met properly for the second time in the kitchen.
Y/N got there first this time. She was already opening cupboards like she had a right to them, because she did and discovering they were mostly empty except for the bare minimum to keep them alive.
Behind her, she heard a careful pause in the doorway, causing her to turn around.
Harry stood there holding an empty mug. He looked like he had stopped moving the second he realized she was in the same room.
“Oh” he said again, softer this time.
Y/N smiled at him immediately, like it was her job to make this easier. “Hi again.”
“Hi” he replied, still standing in the doorway like it might be safer there.
She nodded toward the mug. “Tea again? That’s impressive for day one.”
“I uh, I didn’t really plan on having another.” he admitted.
“That tracks” she said warmly.
That got another almost smile from him.
He stepped inside slowly, as if the floor might have opinions about him.
Y/N leaned against the counter. “So, Harry are you always this quiet or am I just lucky?”
His eyes widened slightly. “I’m not, I mean, I can talk!”
“That’s good,” she said. “I was starting to worry I’d accidentally moved in with a very polite ghost.”
A pause. Then very quietly, he said, “I’d be a terrible ghost.”
That made her laugh, genuinely.
“Why?”
“I’d probably apologize too much” he said then immediately looked like he regretted saying it.
Y/N tilted her head. “That’s actually kind of adorable.”
His ears went slightly pink. “It’s not.”
“It is” she insisted.
He looked down at his mug like it had betrayed him. Y/N decided to ease off, just a little.
“So, Tea? Or is this more of a standing in the kitchen, being mysterious kind of thing?
He blinked at her before replying “Tea. Definitely tea.”
“Perfect,” she said “I approve of your life choices so far.”
That earned her a small, real breath of laughter from him this time, short, surprised, like it escaped without permission.
Harry placed her mug down carefully in front of her, fingers brushing the handle, then immediately retracting like it had burned him.
Y/N noticed. She didn’t comment. Not yet.
Instead, she just said “You know, you look like someone who apologizes when a chair makes a noise”
He glanced at the chair he was sitting on.
“I don’t do that”
Then, a few seconds later, more quieter he mutters “I might have done that once.”
Y/N smiled into her tea “I like you already.”
He looked up quickly “You do?”
“Yeah,” she said simply “You’re interesting.”
That seemed to unsettle him in a way he didn’t know how to process.
“I’m not really” he said.
“That’s exactly what interesting people say.”
He shook his head slightly “I don’t think that’s true.”
Y/N leaned back in her chair, studying him properly now.
He wasn’t confident. Not in the loud, obvious way in the careful way. Like he moved through the world trying not to take up too much space, even when he clearly had it.
“So” she says gently, “what do you do when you’re not apologizing to furniture?”
That got a real pause, before he speaks again.
“I work”
“Wow” she said. “Revolutionary.”
A small smile threatened again.
“I play guitar sometimes,” he added after a second.
Y/N perked up slightly. “I heard that earlier.”
He froze. “You did?”
“Yeah” she says casually. “Through the wall. It sounded kind of beautiful, actually.”
That made him go still in a different way, like he hadn’t expected that version of himself to be heard.
“It’s not finished” he said quickly.
Y/N tilted her head at him “So?”
He hesitated, then shrugged a little. “It’s just noise until it is.”
“That’s not true” she said softly.
He looked at her then, properly, like she’d said something that didn’t fit inside his usual way of thinking.
Y/N didn’t push. Just smiled a little and took a sip of tea like this was normal.
Harry looked down at his mug again, turning it slightly in his hands.
After a moment, he said, quieter than before.
“I usually don’t let people hear it.”
“Well,” Y/N said lightly “good thing I’m not people, then”
That earned her a startled look. Then finally, a proper smile, small, shy, real.
“Right” he said.
And this time, the silence between them didn’t feel like distance. It felt like the beginning of something neither of them had named yet, but both of them had already started paying attention to.
Summary: YN is outgoing, Harry is shy. They become flatmates and don’t expect much. But shared silence, small routines and his unfinished music start to change everything.
——————
By the time morning came, the flat no longer felt like a stranger pretending to be a home.
It still wasn't quite comfortable. Nothing here had earned that yet, but it had started to settle into something softer. Less like a place she was passing through, more like a place that might, eventually, learn her name properly.
Y/N woke to silence.
Not the heavy kind from the night before, but lighter now. Cleaner. Like the building had exhaled and decided to behave.
For a moment, she just lay there, listening.
No traffic in her immediate thoughts. No unpacked emotional mess demanding attention. Just stillness and faintly, something else.
A creak in the hallway.
She sat up slowly.
Then another sound. A cupboard closing. Careful. Controlled. Like whoever was making it was trying not to disturb the idea of morning itself.
Y/N smiled to herself before she even knew why.
Harry.
Of course.
She got up, pulling on a hoodie and stepping into the hallway barefoot, the floor cool under her feet. The flat smelled faintly of tea and something toasted burnt at the edges, but in a way that suggested effort had been made.
When she reached the kitchen, she stopped in the doorway.
Harry was there.
He stood in front of the toaster like it was an unpredictable machine he hadn't yet earned the right to trust. One slice of bread had already popped up slightly too dark. Another was still inside, as if refusing to commit.
He looked mildly stressed.
Not in an obvious way. In a quiet, internal way that seemed to sit in his shoulders.
He noticed her immediately.
"Oh," he said.
Then, after a pause, as if remembering basic human function “Morning."
Y/N leaned against the doorframe. "Good morning, apartment ghost."
His eyes widened slightly. "I'm not ... I'm not a ghost."
"That's exactly what a ghost would say."
That earned her a very small, reluctant exhale from him. Almost a laugh again. Almost.
"I tried to make toast" he said, gesturing slightly toward the toaster like it had personally betrayed him.
Y/N stepped inside. "Bold first move for someone who hasn't been vetted by the kitchen yet."
“I thought it would be simple."
"Ah," she said seriously. "That was your first mistake."
Harry watched her approach, then shifted slightly to the side like he was giving her full ownership of the kitchen by default.
That habit already stood out to her.
He didn't take up space unless he absolutely had to.
She reached past him, popped the toaster up, and rescued the second slice.
"Congratulations," she said. "You've successfully created breakfast."
"It's a bit burnt" he admitted.
"It's character building."
He gave her a look. "That's not how toast works."
"It is now."
He nodded slowly, as if deciding this might be one of those new flat rules he would have to accept whether or not it made sense.
Y/N placed the plate down between them like an offering.
"So. How was your first night in emotional isolation chamber number two?"
Harry blinked. "Is that what this is?"
"Depends," she started, pouring herself tea
“Did you hear your own thoughts too loudly at any point?"
A pause.
"Yes," he admitted.
"Then yes."
That made something in him soften slightly, the way his posture loosened like he was realizing she wasn't going to judge him for existing incorrectly.
He sat down at the small table near the window. Carefully like the chair might react.
Y/N followed suit, curling her legs under her.
For a while, they just ate.
Not in silence exactly. More like a shared pause that neither of them felt the need to rush.
Outside, the light had turned pale gold. It made the kitchen look warmer than it was.
Harry spoke first, quietly.
"I heard you tip toeing around last night."
Y/N glanced up. "That's because I was trying not to disturb the ghost."
A faint smile. "Right."
“You didn't sleep well?" he asked, almost hesitant.
It wasn't intrusive. Just careful. Y/N considered lying. Then decided against it.
"Not badly," she said, “Just new place sleep. You know?"
He nodded like he did know. "Yeah."
That single word held more agreement than conversation.
Then after a moment he added, "I usually play guitar when I can't sleep."
Y/N perked slightly at that, "That's your coping mechanism?"
"It's not a coping mechanism," he said quickly, then immediately looked uncertain, "I don't think it is."
"It sounds like one."
He hesitated. "It's just, noise I can control."
That landed differently.
Y/N didn't push it. Just nodded slowly. "Fair."
Harry looked down at his toast again like it might offer him a safer topic.
Then he said softer, "Did it bother you?"
"The guitar?" she asked.
He nodded.
Y/N shook her head. "No. It was kind of nice."
That made him go still for a fraction of a second. Like he wasn't used to something he considered private being described that way.
"Nice?" he repeated quietly.
"Yeah," she said simply. "It sounded honest."
His gaze dropped to the table again, but this time it wasn't avoidance. It was processing.
"That's not usually what people say," he admitted.
"Well," Y/N said lightly "most people don't get the full emotional soundtrack of their flatmates at 2 a.m."
A small breath from him, something like amusement, but softer.
"I didn't mean for you to hear it," he said.
"I know."
A pause, then Y/N tilted her head slightly. "But I did. So now I get to have opinions."
That earned her a proper smile this time. Small. Slightly embarrassed. Real.
"Go on then," he said.
She leaned forward a little, pretending to think seriously. "I think you stop too soon."
Harry blinked "What?"
"In your music," she clarified. "It feels like you're about to say something and then you change your mind."
His fingers tightened slightly around his mug.
"That's intentional," he said, though it didn't sound convincing.
Y/N raised a brow "Is it?"
He didn't answer immediately. The silence stretched, but this time it wasn't uncomfortable, It was just open.
Finally he said "It feels safer that way."
Y/N's expression softened, just slightly. Not pity. Just understanding.
"Yeah," she said gently. "I get that."
That was the first moment he looked at her properly without flinching away from it.
Like he was realizing she wasn't trying to fix him. Just hear him.
——————
By midday, the flat had started to develop rhythm.
Not a perfect one. Not yet. But something was forming beneath the surface of their separate movements.
Y/N unpacked properly this time, books stacked on shelves, clothes folded into drawers that still stuck slightly. Harry moved between his room and the kitchen in careful intervals, like he was mapping out safe routes through shared space.
At one point, she caught him standing in the hallway holding a plant.
It looked, questionable.
"Is that alive?" she asked.
Harry looked down at it. "I think so."
"That's not very confident."
"I'm not a plant expert," he said defensively.
Y/N smiled. "What is it called?"
"I don't know."
She laughed softly. "So you adopted a mystery organism."
"I rescued it," he corrected.
"From what?"
"A shop," he said, as if that explained everything.
That made her laugh properly this time. Harry watched her for a second longer than he realized he was allowed to.
Then he cleared his throat. "It looked sad."
Y/N softened at that, unexpectedly.
"Yeah?" she asked. He nodded.
"Like it needed somewhere quieter."
Something in that answer lingered between them longer than it should have.
Y/N stepped a little closer, peering at the plant.
"It's very lucky then. Landing in this emotionally stable household."
Harry huffed a small laugh. "We're not emotionally stable."
"Speak for yourself," she said. "I am thriving."
He looked at her like he didn't fully believe that, but also didn't want to argue. Instead he carefully placed the plant on the windowsill.
"It doesn't have a name yet," he said.
Y/N considered it. "That's because it's waiting for you to commit emotionally."
He glanced at her quickly. "That's not what I'm doing."
"Sure," she said. "You just casually adopt unnamed plants and don't assign meaning to anything."
A pause. Then he says quietly "It's easier that way."
Y/N didn't tease him this time. Instead, she leaned lightly against the counter and said,
"Maybe. But it also gets a bit lonely."
Harry didn't respond immediately. He just looked at the plant.
Then, very softly, he said "Yeah."
Not agreement. Recognition.
——————
That evening, something shifted again, but smaller this time.
Less dramatic. More subtle. Harry played guitar.
Not hidden behind walls. Not accidentally. This time, he left his door slightly open.
Y/N noticed immediately.
She paused outside the hallway, listening for a second. The music wasn't fully formed yet, but it wasn't uncertain either. It had shape now. Intent.
She didn't announce herself.
Just walked closer, slowly, until she was leaning against the doorframe.
Harry was sitting on the edge of his bed, guitar resting on his knee. When he noticed her, he stopped mid chord.
"Oh," he said, again, softer now. Less startled each time.
Y/N smiled gently. "Don't stop."
"I didn't think you'd-"
"Stay?" she finished for him.
He nodded slightly.
She shrugged. "You left the door open."
A beat. Then, carefully, he resumed playing. This time, he didn't stop as quickly.
Y/N stayed where she was. Listening.
Noticing how the music felt less like something unfinished now, and more like something learning how to continue. And for the first time since moving in, the flat didn't feel like two strangers sharing space.
It felt like something beginning to sync.
——————
The change didn't announce itself.
It didn't slam doors or arrive with conflict or clear, dramatic words that could be pointed to later as the moment everything shifted. It was quieter than that. Easier to miss. The kind of distance that only becomes noticeable once you realize you've stopped stepping into the same rhythm.
Y/N noticed it first in the kitchen.
Harry was already there when she walked in.
He stood by the counter with a mug in his hands, shoulders slightly hunched forward like he was trying to take up less space than the room required. The kettle had already clicked off. The toast sat untouched on a plate.
"Morning," Y/N said automatically, softer than usual.
Harry looked up.
"Oh, hi" he replied.
A pause. Then, like an afterthought he almost forgot to include yet again, "Morning."
It wasn't wrong. It just wasn't him from a few days ago.
Y/N moved toward the counter anyway, refusing to let the space between them grow without resistance. "You're up early."
"Couldn't sleep," he said.
She nodded. "Yeah. Flat's still doing that thing where it feels like it's not yours yet."
Harry gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Yeah."
Silence settled between them. Not comfortable this time. Just present.
Y/N opened a cupboard, pretending to search for something she didn't actually need. "Did you play last night?"
"No," Harry said.
That was it.
No explanation. No follow up. Just the answer sitting there, slightly too final.
Y/N closed the cupboard slowly. "Oh."
Another pause. She turned toward him, leaning lightly against the counter. "Everything okay?"
It was casual. Light. Safe. Harry's fingers tightened slightly around his mug.
"Yeah," he said again.
Same word. Different weight.
Y/N studied him for a second longer. He wasn't looking at her properly. Not like before. Not like he was trying to figure her out anymore.
More like he was trying not to be figured out at all.
She softened her tone. "You're allowed to say if it's not."
A beat. "I know," he said quietly.
But he didn't say anything else.
And that was the problem.
The rest of the day didn't fix itself. It didn't get worse either. It just, stretched.
Harry stayed in his room more than usual. Y/N heard him moving around sometimes, small sounds, footsteps that stopped abruptly, the occasional drawer opening and closing. But no music.
No guitar.
The flat felt different without it. Not empty. Just quieter in a way that felt deliberate.
Y/N tried not to think too much about it. She told herself people needed space. That not every change meant something was wrong. That sometimes quiet just meant quiet.
But it didn't feel like that. It felt like something had been pulled inward. By evening she'd convinced herself it was nothing serious.
It was the kitchen again that broke that illusion.
Y/N walked in expecting nothing, just tea, maybe a quick meal, maybe the usual shared silence that had started to feel normal.
Harry was there, but this time, he wasn't at ease.
He stood by the counter with his phone in his hand, thumb hovering like he'd forgotten what he was meant to be doing with it. The light from the screen washed over his face in a way that made him look sharper than usual. Tired in a different way.
He didn't notice her at first as she slowed in the doorway.
"Harry?"
He flinched slightly.
"Oh, sorry," he said quickly, locking the phone and putting it down too fast, like it had burned him. "I didn't hear you come in."
"Yeah," she said gently. "I noticed."
That earned a faint, tense exhale from him.
He turned toward the kettle instead of her. "I was just making tea."
"You've been making tea a lot today," she said lightly.
"I like tea."
It came out sharper than he meant it to. The words hung there.
Y/N didn't react immediately. Just watched him carefully now, her earlier ease replaced with something more attentive.
"Okay," she said after a moment. "You don't have to talk, you know."
Harry shook his head quickly. "I'm not I- I can talk."
"You're just not right now," she corrected softly.
That made him stop. Properly. Like he hadn't expected her to see the difference so clearly.
The kettle clicked on. Too loud in the quiet.
Harry stared at it like it was easier than looking at her.
"I'm fine," he said.
Y/N let out a small breath through her nose, not amused, not frustrated. Just understanding the pattern forming in front of her.
"You keep saying that," she said.
"I am," he insisted, but it didn't land with conviction.
A pause. Then, quieter, almost like he didn't mean to say it out loud, "It's just, easier today."
Y/N softened slightly. "What is?"
He hesitated. Everything about him hesitated.
"Being like this," he said finally. "Quiet."
That word felt heavier than it should've.
Y/N leaned against the counter slowly. "You don't have to disappear to be allowed to have a bad day, Harry."
His jaw tightened slightly, "I'm not disappearing," he said.
Awhile later, they met again in the kitchen, their usual meeting spot as it seems to be, but this time it was different.
The tea was made in silence. This time, it didn't feel shared. It felt parallel.
Two people occupying the same space but not quite meeting inside it.
Harry handed her a mug without looking at her properly. Their fingers didn't brush this time. Y/N noticed that too.
She took it anyway.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly.
Harry stared into his tea.
"No," he said, after a pause.
Then, after another pause, quieter, "Not really."
Y/N nodded once. She didn't push. But she didn't let it drop completely either.
"Okay," she said. "But I'm still here."
That made him glance up at her. Just briefly. Like he was checking if she meant it. She did. He looked back down again almost immediately.
Later that night, the flat felt split in two.
Y/N stayed in the living room longer than usual, pretending to read, pretending to scroll, pretending not to listen for something that wasn't coming anymore.
No guitar. No unfinished melodies slipping through walls.
Just silence that felt too structured to be accidental.
At some point, she stood and walked down the hallway.
Harry's door was closed. She stopped in front of it and listened. Nothing.
For a moment, she considered knocking.
Her hand hovered, then dropped back to her side. Not yet.
Instead, she said quietly, just loud enough for the space between doors to carry it, "You don't have to be okay all the time."
There was no answer. But she stood there for a second longer anyway. Then turned and walked back down the hall.
And behind the closed door, Harry didn't move, but he listened, and for the first time since moving in, the silence didn't feel like absence.
It felt like distance.
Something that could grow if neither of them reached for it soon enough.
——————
Y/N barely slept.
She blamed the rain that had started sometime after midnight, tapping steadily against her bedroom window.
She blamed the unfamiliar mattress.
She blamed the radiator that clicked every twenty minutes like it was trying to start a conversation.
She blamed everything except the truth. She couldn't stop thinking about Harry.
Not in the embarrassing, teenage school girl way she refused to acknowledge, but in the quiet, worrying way.
He'd looked exhausted. Not physically. Emotionally.
Like he was carrying something too heavy to set down.
She rolled onto her side and stared at the ceiling.
The flat was silent. Too silent.
No guitar. No absentminded humming through the walls.
Just rain.
——————
The next morning arrived grey.
The kind of morning where the sky looked undecided, threatening rain without fully committing.
Y/N wandered into the kitchen in one of Harry's old university hoodies she'd accidentally picked up from the laundry pile the night before.
She froze halfway through making coffee.
"Oops." She looked down at herself.
It was definitely his. Slightly too big.
The sleeves swallowed her hands, and it smelled faintly of cedarwood and whatever washing detergent he used.
She laughed quietly to herself, "this is awkward."
Before she could retreat back to her room, the front door opened. Harry stepped inside. He looked surprised to see her.
Then his eyes dropped, to the hoodie. He stopped walking altogether. "Oh."
Y/N looked up. Then followed his gaze. Then groaned.
"Oh my God."
"I'm so sorry," she laughed, tugging at the hem. "I grabbed it from the laundry basket without looking."
Harry blinked "It's okay."
"I can go change."
"You don't have to."
"I promise I wasn't secretly stealing your clothes." She rushed out, embarrassed.
"I didn't think you were."
"You looked horrified."
"I was just," He rubbed the back of his neck "Surprised."
She smiled sheepishly "It does smell nice."
Harry looked away.
"Thanks."
She disappeared into her room a minute later to change anyway. When she came back, Harry had already made coffee.
Her mug was waiting beside the kettle. He hadn't asked. He just knew which one she'd started using. She smiled to herself before picking it up.
“Thanks." She smiled, he nodded.
"No problem."
It was a tiny thing. So tiny it almost didn't matter. Except somehow, it did.
That afternoon, the rain finally came.
Heavy.
Relentless.
The windows rattled under the wind, and the sky darkened hours before sunset. Y/N had settled on the sofa with a book she hadn't turned a page of in twenty minutes.
Harry emerged from his room wearing headphones around his neck. He hesitated when he saw her.
"You alright?" she asked.
"Yeah."
She raised an eyebrow. He sighed quietly.
"Yeah."
“There you are," she smiled.
"What?" He asked, brows furrowed in confusion.
"You used the real 'yeah.'" She laughed softly.
"I have different 'yeahs'?" He laughed a little.
"Oh, loads."
"I don't."
"You absolutely do."
He looked genuinely concerned.
"I do?" She laughed at this.
"There's your 'leave me alone' yeah."
"I don't have one."
"You do."
"And then there's your 'I'm embarrassed' yeah."
He folded his arms "No."
"And my personal favourite-" She pointed at him dramatically.
"your 'I'm pretending I'm okay because I don't want anyone worrying about me' yeah."
Harry's smile disappeared. Not because he was upset. Because she'd gotten it exactly right.
Y/N's own smile softened. She hadn't meant to hit quite so close to home.
"I'm not trying to call you out," she said gently.
"I know."
He sat down in the armchair opposite her. Rain filled the silence. After a long moment, Harry spoke.
"You're very observant."
"I like people." She said with a shrug.
"I've noticed."
"And I notice them."
He nodded slowly "That sounds terrifying."
She laughed "Only if you're hiding."
His eyes drifted toward the rain soaked window before he said "Maybe I am."
Neither of them said anything after that as the storm outside only grew louder.
And somewhere beneath the sound of the rain, the distance between them began to feel less like a wall and more like something waiting to be crossed.
Neither of them spoke for a while after that.
The rain carried the conversation instead.
It drummed steadily against the living room window, washing the world outside into streaks of grey. Cars hissed through puddles below, their headlights smeared by the rain-soaked glass. The radiator ticked every so often, old and stubborn, never quite deciding if it wanted to heat the room properly.
They never spoke about that day again, leaving it up to emotions being high over a new move, a new place and also trying to navigate life alongside someone you've never met before.
It wasn't long until things went back to somewhat normal (or what they assumed normal was, between two strangers)
The flat felt less tense in the days that followed.
The flat had its own language, it was slowly beginning to show.
The bathroom door that refused to close unless someone lifted the handle.
The kitchen tap that squealed every morning before settling into a steady stream.
Harry noticed things too.
Like how Y/N never drank the first cup of coffee she made.
She'd always leave it on the counter until it went cold while she wandered around opening curtains, watering the little herb plant she'd bought for the windowsill, or dancing absentmindedly to whatever song happened to be stuck in her head.
Then she'd make another.
"You know that's ridiculous," he'd said one morning.
She'd looked over her shoulder "What is?"
"The first coffee."
"What about it?"
"You never drink it."
She'd frowned down at the forgotten mug "I forget."
"Every day."
"I know."
He'd stared at her for a second before quietly sliding the cold mug toward himself. She'd watched him take a sip.
"Are you drinking my abandoned coffee?" She asked with a laugh of disbelief.
He'd shrugged "It seemed lonely."
She'd laughed so hard she'd nearly dropped the spoon she was holding, "You rescue coffee now too?"
"It was going to waste."
"You are impossible." She joked.
"I've been told."
It became routine after that.
Every morning she'd accidentally make two coffees. Every morning Harry would drink the forgotten one without either of them mentioning it
The flat slowly began collecting evidence that two people actually lived there.
Y/N's books spread from her bedroom onto the shelves in the living room, stacked horizontally because she'd run out of space. Harry's records appeared beside the television, organised alphabetically with almost concerning precision.
Her trainers ended up kicked carelessly beside the front door. His sat neatly underneath the coat rack, perfectly aligned.
She bought colourful tea towels because the plain white ones felt "depressing."
Harry didn't understand how tea towels could be depressing. He used them anyway.
She filled the windowsill with little plants she'd convinced herself she could keep alive. Harry quietly watered them whenever she forgot.
She never told him she'd noticed. He never mentioned that he knew she had.
Evenings soon became their favourite part of the day. Not because they did anything exciting. Because they didn't.
Sometimes Y/N would sit cross legged on the sofa reading while Harry worked on his laptop at the dining table, the only sounds in the flat being the turning of pages and the occasional tapping of keys.
Other nights she'd cook while he dried the dishes. He was surprisingly meticulous about it.
Every plate had to be completely dry before it went back into the cupboard.
He'd looked genuinely confused as he said "But I can dry it now."
"I know."
"So why would I leave it wet?"
She'd laughed. "I don't know."
He'd smiled to himself. "You laugh a lot."
She'd looked up from the saucepan she was washing “Is that a complaint?"
"No." A tiny shake of his head.
"I think-" He'd hesitated.
"It makes the flat feel-" He searched for the right word. "Lived in."
Y/N hadn't replied straight away. Because somehow that simple sentence had settled somewhere beneath her ribs.
Instead, she'd nudged his shoulder gently with her own "You're getting sentimental, Styles."
"I am not."
"You absolutely are."
He'd rolled his eyes but he was still smiling.
There were dozens of moments like that. Small enough that they didn't seem important on their own.
Harry knocking on her bedroom door before leaving for work just to say, "See you later."
Y/N buying an extra pastry because she'd started assuming he'd want one too.
The way he'd automatically move her favourite mug closer to the kettle after washing it.
The way she'd unconsciously lower the volume of the television when she heard him practising guitar.
Neither of them talked about these things. Neither of them noticed when they stopped asking permission.
Can I borrow the milk?
Do you mind if I put the heating on?
Would it be alright if ...
Those questions slowly disappeared. Replaced by an easy certainty. A quiet understanding.
A rhythm. Harmony.
It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't romantic.
It was simply two people learning the shape of each other's lives and without either of them realizing it, they'd already started leaving room for one another.
I would love to know your thoughts on the first part of Resonance !! Getting back into writing has been so much fun for me and I cannot wait to show you all where the story goes !! 🥹🤍
missed you hun!! my fav fic of yours is still poly so a blurb of them?? something smutty 🧎♀️
Aphrodisiac.
Poly!Harry & OC’s.
Summary: Harry buys some special chocolate for himself and his girls.
A/N: this can be read as a stand alone blurb! If you want to dive into their relationship more check out my poly!harry master list!
I’m a little rusty, so go easy 👀
Warnings: threesome (mff) daddy kink p*rn without plot basically, sexual content, 18+, talks of using an aphrodisiac all three giving me bi panic as per usual !!!
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Italy.
Harry loved the country, everything about it.
It was their favourite place, their hideaway, their safe haven.
Harry knew his break off touring and being the most talked about male artist of this generation would only be spent in one place.
His girls had no complaints when he packed them up and whisked them away from the bustling life they lived for the duration of the tour.
They love their little countryside cottage, dirt roads that go on for miles, no prying eyes and not one single person knew they were hidden away here, wrapped up in their own bubble letting everything just pass them by.
Harry in particular loved how he could cycle into the nearest small town and visit the stalls every few days, gathering what they needed to cook up fresh dishes and also picking up some fresh flowers for his two girls.
It was his love language after all — gift giving.
That’s exactly how they’ve ended up in this position, all three of them needy for one another, lips kissing over every inch of each others bodies while they whisper sweet nothings into each others ears.
Harry’s gift was cheeky this week, the packaging looking innocent, swirly writing indicating delicious handmade chocolate on a purple wrapper — but if you looked at it closer, you’d find the chocolate bar was far from that.
It was chocolate laced with an aphrodisiac.
“Is it my turn yet? Wanna taste him.”
The small whine came from Izzy, who was looking at Joey with heavy eyes and a pout, eyes watching her as she licked and sucked along Harry’s cock before her.
“Awh, is my baby getting jealous? Want to taste some for herself? Hmm?” Harry taunted her, knowing it gets her going.
Izzy didn’t even have to answer, her doe eyes glazed over with pure love and adoration for them both said enough, she was long gone, deep under their spell.
And she loves every second of it.
“No one said you couldn’t baby girl, come here.” Joey laughed softly, gathering Izzy’s hair up in her fist and guiding her towards Harry.
“Poor thing just needed some help. S’all fuzzy is it baby? Your head?” Harry cooed, watching intently as Joey guides Izzy’s head along his cock.
“So desperate for it, nearly crying because she wanted a taste.” Joey moans quietly, getting more and more turned on as she watches the scene before her.
It goes from zero to one hundred in minutes, a soft slow blowjob quickly leading to Izzy riding Harry while Joey sits on his face, gripping the headboard as she throws her head back in pure ecstasy.
“S’too much, my legs hurt.” Izzy whines out, desperately trying to work through the burning in her thighs, mouth agape as she pants out her moans.
“Keep going, that’s a good girl, get daddy to cum in that pretty little pussy.”
Joey eggs her on, swinging her head over her shoulder, eyes landing upon a sweaty Izzy, hair clung to her forehead as her eyes finds hers right away.
“Doing so good my baby love, just a few more minutes, yeah? Riding me so good, gonna make me lose it.” Harry says against Joey’s core, his moans becoming more and more desperate as he licks into her.
A few more positions later, they all finally collapse onto the bed, sweat coating their bodies as they let out exhaustion filled laughs.
“I don’t know about anyone else, but I could go again.” Izzy says, the aphrodisiac obviously giving her a little boost of confidence as she lays between the two.
“Give me five minutes little minx, need to recharge” Harry says kissing her head, arm around her tummy as he holds onto his two girls.
“I can’t wait that long.” Is all Izzy says as she smashes her lips against Joey’s making Harry let out a loud belly laugh.
There’s no doubt that the recent news of Liam’s sudden passing has shocked the entire world. It’s shaken everyone up, words can’t describe how everyone is feeling.
Although I don’t agree with his past actions, I still would never wish death upon someone.
He was apart of a lot of our lives, no matter how long, he still was a core part of all of our childhoods, we grew up along side of him.
My heart goes out to his friends and family, those who knew him personally and those who weren’t but still felt like he was a childhood friend.
My inbox is always open if anyone needs someone to talk to, this isn’t an easy time for anyone.
i do have to say that TMZ is a fucking plague and needs to be stomped out. the way they shared the news of michael jackson’s death before his family was notified, shared images of the kobe bryant helicopter crash before his wife had even found out it happened, and have now shared images of liam payne’s dead body for the world to see… just fucking slimy and utterly devoid of integrity
hii i just wanted to ask you if uve come across a prof harry series in the first part y/n is a little late to his class so after the class he makes her sit for extra time so she misses breakfast with her friends but he buys her breakfast i dont rlly remember the rest but can you ask your followers if they know this fic i cant find it . its a little angsty at first
If anyone knows this pls let me know!!! Help an anon out I know how frustrating it is to not remember 🤍
Hii, I missed you and your writing. Can you write something about y/n and Harry (maybe phh). When she asks him what they are and he said he wants to be in a relationship but y/n isn’t ready yet and he reacts understanding 🫶🏻🫶🏻 can you make it a bit angsty too? Thank you 🫶🏻
I’m a little rusty so if this is somewhat crappy, just mind your business. Mwah. Thank you for this concept anon!! 🤍
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Y/N and Harry have had a complicated relationship from the beginning.
Being childhood best friends can have it’s pros and also it’s cons, many cons Y/N had come to realise.
Five years old is when they first met, both their mothers being in the same book club is what set it off, the two meeting just before they headed into school where they’d also be together, connected at the hip their mothers soon came to know.
They were inseparable since five year old Harry comforted five year old Y/N as their mothers left them for the first time ever on their first day of school, the boy instantly hugging the crying girl as he reassured her he’d always be there, and he was, he really was.
Seventeen is when things started to get weird for them, hormones came into play, parties started becoming a thing and of course, testing the waters on who they both were interested in.
Harry finding himself the centre of attention with teenage girls pretty often, eyelashes fluttering as they basically begged to kiss him or even just sit in the passenger seat of his bet up truck that he drove, but Harry wasn’t too fond of it for reasons he wasn’t aware of at that time.
Y/N was shy, not really putting herself out there like Harry was, she would avoid parties and try ignore Harry’s pleads on insisting she comes with him for just an hour! She always rolled her eyes and agreed, but even when she was there, no one even knew she was.
But Harry always did.
College is where things got difficult, the pair going their separate ways for the first time in what felt like forever. Harry moved away, Y/N stayed, and it sucked, it really did.
Sure he’d come home every now and then and hang out with her when he could, but she could feel him slip away, pulling back slowly as she tried to navigate life without his hand on her shoulder reassuring her he’s there.
But he wasn’t anymore.
She took some time for herself, saved up money and decided to travel, leaving behind the life she felt way too comfortable in, wanting to find her true self, but sometimes, even if you try hard to get away from your past and start new, some strings are just hard to break.
And Harry was a string that kept hanging on.
Twenty five is when they met again, at a small bar in a different country to where they both left one another all those years ago, it was as if her mind was playing tricks on her, but it wasn’t.
It was him, he was there.
All the pent up anger for moving away from both parts was soon let out as they argued in booze filled rage, soon finding themselves tangled around one another the next morning as the sun seeped in through the curtains.
All the years of curiosity and anger came down to this, to Harry in her bed, the same Harry who had her back from five years old, who held her when she was hormonal and needing a shoulder to sob on for stupid reasons. It was him, and she had no idea what to think of it all.
A light groan startles her from her thoughts as he moves beside her, lazily peeling his eyes open as a sleep soaked grin creeps onto his face.
“This is the last place I thought I’d be, but no complaints here!” He jokes with a soft laugh, trying to wrap his arm around her to which she brushes off, leaving him confused.
Silence, that’s all he’s met with, Y/N staring at the ceiling as if she’s trying to piece her words together, but she can’t.
“Is something wrong? I can get you anything just say-“
“Just go, please” is all she can get out, her eyes closing as she fights off tears she doesn’t know why she’s even building up.
He looks over her face, he knows when she’s bottling something up, of course he does!
“I’m not leaving you like this Star.”
There it was, the nickname he always called her growing up. It stemmed from her love of astrology, always looking up at the stars whenever she could, he found it adorable, from then on always referring to her as one.
“Don’t call me that, you haven’t called me that in years.” She says almost as if she’s disgusted it even slipped past his lips.
Harry is confused, last night they were all over one another, couldn’t get enough of each other as they shared what was their first ever intimate night together, sharing themselves with each other for the first time ever.
“Please, can you just look at me?” He says with a light laugh, more one of confusion than of anything else, his heart tugging as he sees her flinch away from his touch yet again.
“It’s just best if you go, go back home and just don’t contact me again, I’ll do the same. Let’s just get back to what we were before last night.”
That was the thing, Harry didn’t want that.
“Y/N, do you know the reason I was here in the first place? The reason I suddenly just showed up?” Harry’s heart skips a beat as she looks at him for the first time this morning as she shakes her head softly.
“It’s because I couldn’t live without you, I tried, trust me I did! I tried everything. Nothing compared to what I felt when I was around you, knowing you were there was enough for awhile but when you moved,” he sighs with a shake of his head before he begins again.
“I felt like a piece of me left with you.”
Y/N doesn’t take her eyes off him, drinking in how he looks now, on sober eyes she can still see the young boy in him, the dimples poking out as he smiles down at her but there’s also differences.
She doesn’t see him as a friend anymore.
“Your hair is longer” she speaks, which is another difference she didn’t seem to notice last night.
“You had a thing for Tarzan growing up, had to get you some way.” He joked, earning a small laugh from her to which he beams at, missing her smile and her laugh that he was oh so fond of.
“You’re an idiot.”
“Can I be your idiot?”
That sentence brings her back to earth, the pit in her stomach returning as she fights back a lump in her throat as she tries to build up courage to tell him.
But she doesn’t need to tell him, he knows already.
“I know, you’re not ready for commitment, but I’m willing to wait until you are, even if that means I have to shower you in my love until you are.” He jokes, but he isn’t deep down and they both know that.
“I just need time.” She softly says, to which he just nods, smiling back at her.
“I’ve all the time in the world for you, Star.”
And just like that, things weren’t so complicated anymore.
