The brisk autumn air nipped at the back of Harry’s neck as he stepped onto the pavement outside Nashville International Airport’s arrivals terminal. His bright red Gucci boots carried him swiftly from the revolving door directly toward his private town car, while his sunglass-covered eyes stayed fixed on the ground, doing their best to avoid any curious onlookers.
In his nearly fifteen years of fame, Harry was used to wishing he could go unseen in a crowd. But this time it was different - his hasty decision to book a plane ticket out of LAX only to leave thirty minutes later with a chaotically packed duffle and the fact that he made all the arrangements on his own, from an airport escort all the way down to his hired driver, proved that he didn’t want anyone knowing where he was.
His entire world had gradually crumbled around him and he simply needed to escape.
A handful of wide strides left a gust of Tom Ford in his wake as he made it to the curb, greeting his driver with a nod before quickly disappearing into the backseat. He adjusted his posture in his seat, untangling himself from his bag’s strap and settling onto the smooth black leather. Knowing he was officially tucked away behind dark tinted windows, he blew out a weighted exhale as his head landed back against the headrest with a thud.
“My apologies, sir,” the driver offered while stepping into the driver seat and closing the door. “Would you be more comfortable if I wore one as well?”
Confused, Harry lifted his head to see the man looking back at him through the rear view mirror, holding up a light blue disposable mask with his pointer finger.
“Oh—” Harry laughed quietly, pulling his own mask from his face and dropping it in his lap. “No, it's fine…” he explained, “still a habit to wear one when m’traveling.”
But that was a lie. Regardless of the fact that the pandemic virus had been at bay for years, the cloth mask laying in his lap had become a barrier. It now served as a shield between the lower half of his face and the expectation to show anyone any sort of emotion - a sense of anonymity he couldn’t seem to let go of in certain public situations.
Feeling the car shift forward, Harry watched the driver
place the mask back in the center console and then shift his focus onto maneuvering out and away from the chaos of the airport.
“Are we still headed to Franklin?”
Harry paused, remembering the destination he provided the chauffeur company when he made the arrangements. But now that he had landed, his uncertainty kicked in, unsure if he would even be welcomed when he arrived.
“Yes, please,” he hastily confirmed, realizing there was no turning back now.
“Is that where you’re from?” The man’s eyes were on him again through the rear view mirror.
Feeling a lump form in his throat, he gulped and blinked hard behind his sunglasses.
Normally, Harry would have no problem saying where he was from - that he was born and raised in Manchester… or Cheshire, on the off chance he felt like being specific. But the truth was, he hadn’t visited there in years.
London would be most people's assumption, being that he owned a plot of homes in Hampstead Heath. But somehow those houses had become a mere pit stop, the place he would pop into only long enough to wipe the dust off the counters… or at least have someone else do it for him.
New York? No.The Big Apple had never really been his cup of tea.
Los Angeles would be the easiest answer, what with it being the city where most of his belongings lived. But even after spending the majority of his last four years there, he couldn’t bring himself to adopt the city as his own. Something had always been missing.
At the end of the day, he wasn’t sure where to call home anymore.
“Suppose that was a silly question…” The driver interrupted his thoughts, speaking up before Harry could offer his answer, “…with the accent and all.”
After swallowing his hesitancy, Harry parted his lips but was still unable to form any sort of a sentence. Instead he turned his head to look out the window, watching the downtown cityscape shift into country roads decorated with bright yellow and red trees.
And in that moment, Nashville was simply a breath of fresh air - the first flood of oxygen his lungs had felt in ages.
Sending a timid smile toward the front of the car, he finally managed a response.
“I'm just visiting for a while.”
Comfortable silence once again fell between the two men as the highway brought them further south toward the quaint city of Franklin. Knowing that in a matter of minutes the town car would be pulling up along the curb in front of the address he had provided - an address he used to know by heart but sadly had to Google before he left LA - Harry slid his cell phone out from his trousers pocket and swiped the screen until it was unlocked.
With his thumb hovering over the green and white messages icon, he hesitated for a beat before tapping the text thread at the very top.
Tyler Johnson
Instinctively, his smile grew the moment he saw the little circle next to his longtime friend and past producer’s name. The circle that held a photo from when they recorded Harry’s sophomore album in Malibu, a five year old snapshot that flooded his veins with nostalgia - Tyler, with his phone in his hand and a blunt in his mouth and Harry, with his guitar hung over his shoulder, offering him a light. However the photo was a distant memory now, a reminder of simpler times.
His eyes quickly flitted from the circle to the text, skimming the lengthy list of only blue messages.
Harry Styles: Hey Ty. I know it’s been a while but I just booked a flight to Nashville. Was hoping I could drop in. Would love to see you man -H.
Harry Styles: Hey brother. Still haven’t heard from you, but would love to meet up. I just boarded. Should be in Nashville by noon -H.
Read. With no response.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly feeling a wave of nerves flip in his stomach, questioning his spontaneous choice of making Nashville the arrival city on his plane ticket.
And before he knew it, the car came to a rolling stop.
He couldn’t bring himself to look out the window, even though he knew exactly where he was. He knew if he looked, he’d see a brick lined house with white trim that framed a bright blue door and remember the first time he ever visited - the time he wrote his only Grammy winning song with his best friends. The memory alone kept him frozen in his place.
“Would you like help with your things?”
The driver's voice snapped him out of his paralysis.
“Um—“ Harry cleared his throat and immediately reached for his bag, knowing he needed to grow a pair and own his decision of showing up without an invitation. “No, thank you, I can manage.”
He lifted the worn brown duffel - the one he had dug out from the very back of his closet - and hoisted it over his shoulder as he climbed out of the car and resituated both his bag and his fluffy brown faux fur jacket. He thanked his driver, wished him well and waited until the car had pulled away before turning toward the house.
And there it was… the exact same house from his memories. The maple tree off to the side was massive now and the trim’s paint was slightly faded, but it was exactly the same. Noticing the sign hanging above the door, Harry smiled.
Summer Evening Studios
The three words displayed the name of Tyler’s very own studio, the one their friend group bickered over for ages as if they were naming their own child. The fact that Summer Evening Studios ended up being a nod to the song that they all wrote together always gave Harry a sense of pride and gratitude. But now that five years had passed, and this was the first time he was returning since the summer of 2019, he felt nothing but regret.
“Fucks sake—“ Harry mumbled under his breath, giving his head a shake, attempting to pull himself together. He forced his feet to move toward the blue door, pulling his sunglasses from the bridge of his nose and pushing them up into his curls - a symbolic act that would hopefully help him humbly keep his guard down.
A handful more steps brought him to the point of no return. Reaching for the handle, he took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out while pushing the door open. And when he walked inside, an even heavier nostalgia hit his senses.
The front room was bright and welcoming. A vintage record player was the first thing he noticed, resting on top of a distressed wooden table in the corner - the sounds of Shuggie Otis softly filling the silent space. In the center of the room was a candle burning on the front desk, one that was currently unoccupied, filling the entryway with the sweet scent of pumpkin and cinnamon. The walls were a light grey color and lined with framed records, awards and notable photographs. Harry’s eyes immediately skipped to the two frames hung directly in the middle of the wall holding the covers of his debut album and his sophomore album… but his heart abruptly stopped realizing that next to those frames was a blank space - a missing frame - a sad reminder of when things took a turn for the worst.
Just when his dry eyes started to burn from staring at the display, a young girl emerged from the room to his right, forcing him to blink away from his regrets.
She had a warm smile on her lips as she moved toward the front desk, but her face went pale white the second her eyes connected with Harry’s.
“Oh my… god.” She gasped, nearly tripping over her feet and dropping the stack of envelopes in her hands. “You’re— you’re Styles!”
Harry winced, finding himself embarrassed by what had become his stage name over the past four years - a painful reality considering the last time he was in that recording studio he was simply known as Harry.
“Shit, sorry that’s so unprofessional of me!” The girl blurted before placing the envelopes on the desk and dismissively waving her hands in the air as an apology.
“That’s alright,” Harry chuckled nervously as he readjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “Um, is Tyler here?”
“Tyler? Um no, Styles,” she squeaked while her star struck gaze bounced around the room, unable to hold his eye contact. “He’s not— he’s… actually I’m not sure where he is, let me check. Cleo!”
Shit.
The name alone sent his heart plummeting to his toes. And all at once Harry wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole. He felt goosebumps devour every inch of his skin as his eyes bolted to the room the young girl was shouting toward and then back to her desk in a panic.
“Do you know when Ty’s coming in? Styles is—“
“Um, shit,” Harry muttered, attempting to stop her shouting in any way he could. “It’s not Styles. You can just call me—“
“Harry…”
The melodic voice filtered into the room, drawing his reluctant gaze to the open doorway. The woman who stepped through looked like a deer caught in headlights, with bright brown eyes as wide as saucers and her mouth parted in shock - an expression that only lasted for a fleeting moment before she blinked and picked her jaw up off the floor, letting her features fall into a perfect poker face.
Harry on the other hand stayed stunned, taking her in fully - he wouldn’t have been able to look away if he tried.
She was casually dressed - a simple plain white tee with the front hem tucked into a pair of faded blue jeans made everything about her appear effortless. Her light brown hair, which was half tied back in a loose braid, was way longer than the first time they met, the tips falling just above her waistline. And peeking out from underneath her left arm’s short sleeve was a beautifully intricate floral tattoo etched into her skin - the detailed black ink making him recall the time they compared roses.
Her presence took his breath away… which worked out in Harry’s favor, being that he could cut the thick tension in the air with a knife.
“Cleo— hey…” His adam’s apple visibly bobbed in his throat while he anxiously held her persistent eye contact. “I didn’t expect...”
“Yeah, it’s been a while.”
Cleo’s response was clipped, her words left hanging in the air like an open ended question. And it was obvious, with the way the room immediately fell silent, that they both knew his response would be loaded.
“Yeah, it has, um—“ Harry gulped, watching the golden flecks in her brown eyes study him, once again feeling the warmth she effortlessly exuded flooding through his body. Her steady stare, laced with an equal amount of intrigue and confusion, easily reminded him of the first time they met.
“What brings you to Nashville?” She kept her voice steady and emotionless.
A weighty question - one Harry wasn’t sure he had an answer for. A peace offering? A new start? A moment to breathe?
And with an awkward shift of his weight from one foot to another, he pushed out a heavy breath, wishing with all his might he could go back in time and fix everything he had let break.
•••
A/N: So here we go! A little intro into this universe that kept pestering me until I was able to put it into words. Per usual, there’s no posting schedule, we’re all just along for the ride (me included).
To my ride or die girls - @for-fucks-sake-h @andwhenshesays @real-work-of-art @haute-romance-quotidienne - thank you for always hyping me up and encouraging me. This shit would never happen without them. 🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃
Would love to hear your thoughts! I hope you enjoy!
•••
Tag list: @tbslhrry @soullikestyles @sing-me-a-song-harry @whenthe-smokeisinyoureyes @dayxoxodreamer @harrysfolklore @sunflowerathart
A/N: Now that the Kiwi story/timeline has changed a bit, would anyone be interested in a rewrite?
poppyupdates and 1,765 others liked this post
thestylesupdates: Harry is currently in Orlando, Florida. No sign of Poppy or Emily. It’s been 3 days since Poppy has posted on her instagram story, the rumour is that one of the babies was born the night of the second new york show. We’re waiting to see if Poppy will be at tonights show…..
fan1: Oh I’m so excited to find out!
poppyupdates: I have a feeling Poppy is still pregnant
poppystyles, harrystyles and 30 others liked this post
addie.thomas: Is this a Disney Chanel original?
susie_thomas: Do you mean, “is my life a disney chanel original?” Hope you’re having fun kiddo xx
addie.thomas: Thanks Susie! Missing you, kai and the kids heaps xx
hupdates and 981 others liked this post
thestylesupdate: Harry and Mitch on stage in Orlando last night. Still radio silence from Poppy, but a few fans have said they saw her sister in the pit so it’s looking even more likely that one of the babies has arrived.
fan1: I saw Addie there! it was 100% her, she looks just like poppy!
Having sex with his opening act was probably the worst idea he’d ever had.
But he couldn’t help it. He’d resisted her as long as he could stand, especially in the name of professionalism and to prevent the whole thing coming back to bite him in the ass. He might have succeeded too if he hadn’t caught that glimpse of her half naked that night, three weeks prior, when she used his dressing room in a pinch.
but could you imagine being a photographer for a small music magazine who was invited to take pics at one of the first love on tour shows and even though it wasn’t planned, harry invites you and a few others to a kind of “after party” thing that really only consisted of drinking a beer or two and eating burgers. but he goes through the photos you took and loved them so much that for the first time ever, he posts a photo dump of a bunch of pics you took. then, three weeks later, he invites you to join them as the tour photographer, which eventually ends with the two of you hooking up regularly in foreign hotel rooms, tossing fries into each other’s mouths on white sheets and taking polaroids in random doorways and private spots around venues. He tells you he loves you before you move back home after tour…and then you get a postcard, from him in the studio working on album four, with a polaroid of you attached: you’re wrapped up in white sheets, hair a mess, shoving a taco in your mouth in a city that you can’t place. He tells you he misses you. And he asks you to come home.
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