A/N: so this concept might be familiar for some of you bc i posted about it earlier before i started working on it but now its officially here! and this is my thank you gift for all of you for reaching 15k followers!!! it's insane, thank you so much and hope to bring you even more stories soon!!!
WORD COUNT: 7.9k
WARNING: sexual content
SUMMARY: Your friend forces you to give Tinder a try. Surprisingly you fetch a date with the handsome and a little bit older Harry. But he stands you up and you lose hope in dating. However it's a real plot twist when you run into him at your dad's barbeque and he is introduced to you as the future CEO of your father's company.
MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!
“This has got to be the lowest point of desperation.”
“Don’t be so dramatic!”
“I’m not, this is truly the end.”
Dani rolls her eyes and just keeps tapping away on your phone’s screen, setting up your Tinder profile.
You. On Tinder. The app you swore you’d never use. How did this happen?
Well, it happened because your boyfriend of two years decided to dump you in a McDonald’s parking lot, only to post about his engagement to another woman on Facebook three weeks later.
Disgusting pig, you’re convinced you were blind and deaf in those two years, that’s how you could put up with him for so long.
You’ve been wallowing in your self-pity for the past three months and Dani, your best friend had enough and said that you need to get on a dating app, hook up with some fine ass men and forget about Cruz.
“Alright, it’s all set, want to have a look?” Dani smirks, obviously pleased with herself as she hands you over the phone.
It’s a decent profile, she chose some good pictures of you, your profile was never your concern, it’s others on the app that makes you crawl out of your skin.
“Perfect,” you flash her a forced smile, she grabs the phone and then starts swiping vigorously. “Hey! Don’t swipe right on everyone!”
“Not everyone! Just the hot guys!”
“You’re not even reading their bio!”
“Because I don’t care, we’re looking for a hookup, not your husband here, duh!”
You sit, feeling helpless as you watch your best friend decide who is worthy of you in the virtual meat market. This is really not your scene and you’re more than skeptical anything good will turn out from it.
Dani keeps swiping for a while before you finally talk her out of it and you settle watching a movie instead, forgetting about the profile that is now available for every single man in your area.
To be honest, it completely slips your mind until you’re getting ready for bed and unlock your phone to set an alarm and see all the notifications from Tinder.
“Fuck,” you breathe out, falling into bed as you unwillingly, but tap on one of the notifications and the app opens.
It’s been only a few hours, but you got twenty-seven matches and five out of those even messaged you. You instantly skip the first three because one straight up asks for nudes, one just sends you a bunch of emojis and the third one sent the worst pick up line you’ve ever heard.
The fourth one is okay, but it’s kind of… well, it’s a simple “Hi, how are you?” and you’re not sure how to reply to that, so then only one’s left.
Harry.
The age next to his name reads 36, that’s not that big of an age gap, only eight years, you’ve seen worse. Besides, he looks younger, almost your age according to the pictures. He has a couple, but not too many. He’s smiling on his profile picture, the t-shirt displays his many tattoos on one of his arms, his hair is slightly curly and mostly a mess, but it’s the good kind.
He is definitely your type.
He opened with referring to something that’s written in your bio which feels nice, knowing that he actually read it instead of just swiping right based on your pictures. Your thumbs hover over the screen for a bit before you finally give in and type him an answer.
He replies right away. And so the conversation starts.
One message follows the other, you’re jumping from one topic to the next and at one point it feels like you’re talking to an old friend and not a guy you’ve never actually met. The next thing you realize that it’s three am and you’re still talking.
Y/N: We’ve been talking for hours and you still haven’t asked for my number, should I take it as a bad sign?
HARRY: Didn’t want to seem too pushy, but I wanted to ask for it the moment I saw your profile.
You smile like a little girl as you type your answer.
Y/N: That would have been too soon, you’re right. But now would be a good time.
HARRY: Hey, crazy idea! Can I maybe have your number?
You laugh. You genuinely laugh at the screen and that probably never happened before.
You give him your number.
You didn’t think it would go this far, this whole Tinder ordeal Dani forced you into. You were kind of set that it won’t work so why should you even try?
Now it’s a surprising outcome that you’re on your way to meet Harry at a bar, only three days after texting nonstop. And you’re kinda nervous about it.
You haven’t been on a first date in a long time and it’s giving you the jitters as you get ready. Your experience getting to know Harry in the past few days has been incredibly positive, you wonder if it will be the same when you physically meet.
You arrive at the bar a little early and take a seat at the table he reserved on his name. To ease your nerves you order a vodka soda that you drink quickly, the alcohol mixing in your veins pretty fast, but you’re still nervous to meet him in real life.
As you wait, a guy comes up to you who seems to be more interested in your cleavage than you while he tries to chat you up, but you quickly reject him, your gaze keeps returning to the entrance, expecting Harry to walk in at any moment.
Minutes pass by and then seven o’clock rolls around, the time when you were supposed to meet, but you see no sign of him, which makes your stomach twist and turn. You double check the time, the date and the place to make sure you’re where you need to be.
“You seem awfully lonely,” a voice speaks up behind you and for a split second you think that it’s Harry, you just missed when he walked in, but when you turn around you see a totally different man, holding two drinks in his hands, clearly offering one to you. You make no effort to accept it.
“I’m not,” is all you say, turning your eyes back ahead. He doesn’t get the hint.
“If you’re waiting for someone I’m happy to be your company until they arrive.” He rounds the table and stands in front of you, blocking your view of the entrance entirely. Exhaling irritatedly, you finally look up at him, your face making an obvious statement that you’re not open to the chit-chat.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“You definitely seem like you could use some cheering up, let me be the–”
“Oh my God, are you really this dumb? It’s a no, I don’t want to talk to you, now leave the table!”
“Jesus, what a bitch,” he mutters under his breath as he walks away. Normally, you’d definitely call him out, but right now, you’re just staring at the entrance, almost like a maniac as the minutes pass by and there’s still no sign of Harry.
You check your phone, praying there’s gonna be a text at least, saying that he is just late, that he will be here soon, but nothing. It’s dead silent.
“Fuck,” you breathe out, your feet jumping underneath the table. It’s already twelve past seven. This is not just being fashionably late now.
You wait some more, hoping for a miracle, but it never comes. So does Harry.
When it’s been over thirty minutes you chug down the rest of your cocktail you ordered to make you seem less like a loser and call it a night. On your way out of the bar you pull up your messages with Harry and send him one last text.
Y/N: Thanks for nothing.
And then you block his number, throwing the experience to the very back of your head while you delete Tinder off your phone.
The annual barbeque is here. Once a year your dad’s home turns into one big fair, he invites most of his employees, investors and partners, throwing a feast in his backyard. It means about five hundred people invade your previous home, where you still spend a lot of your time even though you have your own apartment now.
You always come as well, because one, your dad loves to show you off and introduce to everyone and two, you usually use this occasion to network a bit. You’ve just opened your own gallery and what’s a better place to promote your art than a backyard full of wealthy investors? Selling your art can seem like an impossible task sometimes, or to be more precise, most of the time. Until your work is not known you make no profit, you need that first purchase that will bring in the rest and get the business rolling. Unfortunately you have not had that one first customer.
Yet.
It’s a sunny Saturday, as if your dad ordered the weather especially for the occasion. There has never been a barbeque with rain or cold before, your dad seems to have control over this as well. There’s endless food and drinks, several activities for children, since it’s a family friendly event and everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, mixing and mingling.
You’re nursing a mojito you mixed yourself, so it’s generous in the alcohol department. Wearing a white sundress you’re trying to have a word with everyone you know and everyone you want to know.
“Sweetheart!” You hear your father calling out and you spot him a few feet away, waving at you. “Come over here, I want to introduce someone to you!”
Excusing yourself from the conversation you slalom between the guests and reach your father under the oak tree that’s near the tiny pond in the middle of the backyard. Yes, your father has a pond in his backyard, as well as two pools, a jacuzzi and a whole ass greenhouse. He is just that extra.
“Hi daddy,” you smile, joining him as he places a hand to your back and gestures towards a man who is currently turned away.
“Y/N, let me introduce you to the man who will take my place in the future, my successor, if you’d like. This is Harry Styles. Harry, this is my only daughter, Y/N.”
Your body makes the realization faster than your mind. The man turns towards you, but by that moment you’ve already recognized the tattoos you’ve looked at in pictures more than you’d like to admit. Then you see his face and your stomach drops before your brain processes who you’re facing.
Harry stood you up on your first date two weeks ago and you thought you’d never see him, but fate decided to make a joke out of it, because now he is here, in the flesh, looking at you with a just as shocked expression as yours.
You both are quick to gain control back over your faces and Harry is the first one to break the silence.
“Hi, it’s, um… It’s nice to meet you,” he clears his throat as he holds a hand out for you. For a short moment you think of just turning around and walking away, but you don’t want to cause a scene and have your father question your behavior, so instead, you shake his hand, the touch of his skin sending tingles down your spine as you let go of it in a bit of a hurry.
“Yeah, it’s really nice to meet you,” you nod, but can’t hold back the spite in your voice. Luckily, your dad seems to be oblivious to the scene happening in front of him.
“Remember that awfully long procedure we had to find the perfect person to take over after me? Harry was the only one to survive it and I knew we found our guy.”
Your dad pats him on the shoulder proudly and Harry smiles back at him, but you notice how tense he appears to be, most likely because of your presence.
“Ah, he seems like a decent, reliable guy,” you add with a forced smile and you know he understands the meaning behind your words.
“He is!” you dad beams. “And Harry, this is my wonderful daughter, she graduated from CalArts, top of her class, she is an exceptional artist, you should see her work!”
He has seen your work. Well, virtually. Naturally, you talked about what you do and he asked you to send pictures and you did.
He loved them. Or at least that’s what he said. Now you question everything he wrote in his messages.
“I’m sure she is… fantastic.”
The torture continues for a few more minutes before others join the three of you and you have a chance to slip away, which you grab without hesitation.
It feels like all your blood is pumping in your head, you can’t tell if you’re shocked, angry or disappointed, most likely all of these together. Part of you wants to chug something strong to forget about it all, but then another part wants to read everything on him and tell him to fuck himself.
A tequila shot and some internal raging later you’re inside the house, it’s quiet, everyone is enjoying the weather outside, so you have a chance to settle your thoughts. With another mean cocktail in your hands you’re pacing back and forth in the spacious living room, your racing thoughts making it impossible to calm yourself.
“Can I at least try to explain myself?”
The voice coming from the sliding door that leads out to the backyard makes you jump and when you turn around you spot Harry standing there, looking awfully good, but you’re way too angry at him to acknowledge it.
“I don’t think I want to hear it.”
Out of frustration you can’t do anything else than drinking and avoiding to look at him, hoping he might disappear if you ignored him. Unfortunately, it’s not the case, he moves closer.
“Y/N, I’m really sorry about standing you up. It was unacceptable, I know. I had a… um, I had a family situation and I didn’t have a chance to let you know I wouldn’t make it.”
“What situation?” you ask right away, and when he hesitates you know it’s all made up. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I don’t need your apology, you didn’t think it was necessary to tell me you wouldn’t come then, now you’re only apologizing because you were forced to meet me.”
“Y/N, it’s not… it’s not what you think.”
“Oh, I think it’s very much what I think it is,” you let out a bitter laugh. “It’s fine, but I thought you were mature enough to tell me you’re not interested in me anymore. I’m a big girl, I can take the rejection.”
“But I was interested, I still–” He cuts himself off, not sure if it’s fine to say that he is still into you in the situation you found yourself in. “Y/N, I didn’t want to hurt you. This… It’s not how I planned it. I’m sorry.”
You want to stay mad. You want to stand your ground and unleash all your rage at him, but… you can’t. He might have been bullshitting you about why he stood you up, but he truly seems like he feels bad.
And he really looks way too good.
“Alright. Apology accepted.”
He looks visibly relieved, his shoulders ease and even a tiny smile appears on his lips.
“Thank you. Really. So… Do you want to have a drink now?” he chuckles, but the devilish smirk you flash at him scares him instantly.
“Oh, I said apology accepted. That doesn’t mean we’re fine and back at where we were.”
Before he could say anything or question what you said you walk away, leaving him in a blur.
You only see him from afar a few times until the end of the barbeque, you catch him staring quite a few times as well and his looks reflect hunger, so you assume your looks definitely live up to his expectations after all. You miss when he leaves at the end, but you know it won’t be the last time you see each other.
A plan is formed in your mind about how to teach him a lesson for standing you up. A little game, to be exact.
Two days after the barbeque you have to meet your dad in his office and you definitely don’t want to miss the opportunity to mess with Harry. You go out of your way to change before heading to the office, wearing a tight, extra short black dress that will surely catch his attention.
With a stack of documents under your arm you stroll into the building as if you owned it. Well, for a while you were set to inherit the business, but when your father realized you’re more into art, he ditched his plans and started looking for his successor. You remember how nervous you were before sitting down with him and telling him you wouldn’t take over the company like he wanted you to. To your surprise, he took it well and you realized he just wants you to be happy, doing whatever your heart desires.
As a side hustle, you still get involved in some part of the business, just to learn the basic ropes and gain skills you can use in other fields as well, so every once in a while you can be found in the office. Today is one of those days.
The girls behind the front desk smile at you warmly and let you pass by, heading straight up to your dad’s office on the top. Standing in the elevator you check your outfit, making sure it’s not too revealing, but will do the purpose you wore it for. It doesn’t look like you’re going clubbing, but the amount of leg you’re showing will definitely earn you Harry’s attention, just how you planned.
It’s like fate is playing on your side, when you’re approaching the office you spot Harry in there with your dad, a devilish smirk tugging on your lips as you finally reach the glass door, knocking on it gently. They both lift their head up, but the expressions they make are very different.
While your dad seems happy to see you, gesturing for you to come in, Harry on the other hand seems… shocked to say the least. Most likely not because he is seeing you, but because of how you look. You catch his gaze wandering down your legs right away, his chest rising with a deep breath as you walk inside.
“Hi, sorry to interrupt. I brought the documents you asked for.”
“You’re not interrupting anything, come in!” your dad waves around, rounding his desk to greet you with two kisses on your cheeks.
“Hi Harry, it’s so nice to see you again,” you smile at him charmingly, angling yourself so your legs are perfectly in his view.
“It’s uh, it’s nice to see you as well, Y/N.”
The blush on his cheeks is proof that your plan worked pretty well. While chatting with your dad, you keep an eye on Harry and see him practically devouring you with his eyes, his jaw clenches every time you move your weight to one leg and pop your hip out to the side. It’s safe to say he is a fan of your outfit.
“Alright, I better get going,” you sigh and start to pack your stuff when you drop your pen on purpose. The plan was to lean down and tease him even more, but he jumps to your rescue instantly, picking it up for you, but it gets his face to the same level as your thighs and he straightens up faster than the speed of light.
“Here,” he hands you the pen, obviously avoiding looking at you. This is probably the most fun you’ve had in a long time.
“Thank you,” you smile at him, making sure to brush your fingers against his hand as you take the pen from him. “Have a nice day.”
And with that, you stroll out of the office.
Y/N one, Harry zero.
You don’t give him much time to recover from your appearance at the office. A few days later, on Friday, you decide to take advantage of your dad’s pool, which is one of the reasons you spend so much time at his.
And of course because you love him.
Today however, you have a different reason to parade in his backyard in the tiniest bikini you own.
Your dad’s office has floor to ceiling windows watching over the glistening pool. Most of the time you try to avoid having a pool day when you know your dad is working from home, but Harry is here today, so that changes everything.
You saw him arrive a few hours ago from your room’s window and they are still working, so when you’re done with your own business calls you decide it’s time to go for a swim. The neon pink bikini you chose was worn last time in Miami on spring break when you were still in college, a wild weekend you’ll never forget, but you’ve changed since then and it’s not really your style, but it will serve the purpose the best. To help your success you ‘ve also covered your body in tanning oil, making you glisten in the sun.
Putting on your sunglasses you grab a towel and tanning oil and head outside.
It’s hot outside and you’re already planning to lie in the sun after a swim, the water glistening on your body. Putting on your best poker face you finally walk out and approach the pool. You know this place like the back of your hand, so you know exactly when you come into view from the office. Squaring your shoulders you keep your head high and walk up to one of the sunbeds, dropping your stuff down before striking a not too obvious pose as you put your hair up. Angling yourself just right, you catch a glimpse of what’s going inside and you need everything in you not to start grinning when you spot Harry not far from the window, staring at you like he is about to burst. Your dad is somewhere in the back on the phone, oblivious to the scene that’s happening so close to him.
The second act starts when you grab the tanning oil and start applying it, rubbing it into your skin, making a show out of it. Oh, how you wish you could see Harry’s face up close, but you have a good guess what’s happening in his mind and it’s very pleasing.
First, you lie down to tan some, normally you cover your head with a towel because of the heat and not care about how you look, but this time you try your best to look as if you just jumped out of a Sports Illustrated catalog.
Not long later it’s time to jump in the pool. You swim a few laps before emerging from the cold water and returning to your sunbed, all while imagining what could Harry be thinking right now.
You’re still chilling in the sun when you hear the sliding door open and spot your dad walking out. For a moment you freeze, afraid he might tell you off for using the pool when he is working with someone in his office, but he seems delighted.
“Hey, I have to head out for a quick meeting, I’ll pick up lunch on my way home, want me to grab you something?”
“That would be great, thank you,” you smile at him peeking over the rim of your sunglasses.
“Harry is here, so don’t be surprised if you run into him. He’ll probably stay in the office.”
“Alright.”
With that he turns around and disappears in the garage. You hear the engine start and then he drives away, leaving you and Harry as the only people in the house. Not to make it obvious, you turn to look inside the office, but you’re surprised to see that Harry is not there anymore. Has he left the house as well? Did your plan not work after all?
It’s starting to get too hot outside and you didn’t bring anything to drink so you decide to give up and go inside. Heading into the kitchen all you can think about is a glass of cold lemonade.
Rummaging through the fridge you grab the bowl of fruit salad you made yesterday and brought over and as you’re balancing everything in your hands and pushing the fridge’s door closed with your hips, it scares you when you see Harry standing behind you by the kitchen island.
“Jesus, are you a fucking ninja? I didn’t hear you.”
Walking closer you set everything down to the island and pretend like your pulse is not over the roof. Not just because of the scare, but because he looks incredibly good. FItted pants and simple white shirt, the top few buttons are undone, showing a glimpse of his chest, the sleeves are rolled up, allowing you to check out his tattoos as well. God, if you weren’t trying to teach him a lesson you would be all over him already.
It makes you feel better though that he is definitely checking you out as well. He is not trying to mask it too much, his eyes keep wandering down your body that’s still only covered at the most crucial parts by your tiny swimwear.
“Having a day off?” he leisurely asks, hiding his hands in his pockets as he leans against the island next to you.
“Nope, my work is pretty flexible. I’m mostly my own boss.”
You see him nod from the corner of your eyes as you dig into the fruit salad, trying to act casual and ignore the fact that you’re in a hot pink bikini while he is dressed for work.
“So how long are we going to play this?” he then asks out of the blue.
You know exactly what he is talking about, but you won’t give in that easily. With your hands on your hips you turn to face him with an innocent look on your face and you don’t miss how his eyes snap down to your chest, then to your lips before they move back to your eyes.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
A tiny little smile tugs on the corner of his lips as he looks away, out to the terrace where the pool’s glistening surface is probably reminding him of the show you gave him not long ago.
“Is this supposed to be punishment?”
“Did you do something you deserve punishment for?” you tilt your head to the side.
He opens his mouth to reply, but then decides against it, just stares back at you and you wish you could read his mind. He pushes himself away from the island and starts to walk away, you take it as your wind or this round, so you turn back to your snack, but then suddenly he moves back and cages you between his arms, his hands gripping the counter on either side of you. He is behind you now, not even touching you anywhere, but still, it’s as if he was everywhere on your body. Your breath hitches in your throat when you hear his low voice in your ear.
“If you want to play, I’m happy to play along. But be careful, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”
This should be the perfect moment for a clever remark, but your mind is so fogged up you can’t articulate one solid thought. He moves back and you feel his presence disappear from behind you before you see him walking back towards the office, but before he could disappear he shoots one last comment at you.
“Pink looks good on you!”
He did not joke when he said he would play along.
So far, only you’ve been playing this game, but since your little pool side performance, Harry has definitely turned it up on his side as well.
He has been pretty subtle so far. The bastard has noticed that his tattoos make you droop, that you love to check out his backside whenever he is wearing fitted pants and those smirks… they make you weak in the knees every damn time. And he takes every opportunity to use these against you whenever you run into each other.
You’ve been dropping by your dad’s office a lot more often than usually in hopes of seeing Harry and he’s been a frequent guest at your dad’s house as well. Stolen looks, tiny touches and never ending teasing have become your usual lately and you’ve been enjoying it way too much probably.
It’s been pretty long since you had a crush and it’s an exciting change to have this little thing going on with Harry, whatever it really is.
The major change is that you’ve started to text again. A few days after your encounter in your dad’s kitchen the flow started again and you’ve been talking ever since. It’s like before the failed date.
Two weeks pass by and you realize it’s been only small little games, nothing extreme since your show at the pool. You’ve been trying to come up with a move that will leave him defeated and a shopping spree with Dani is what gives you the idea.
She always makes you go lingerie shopping, she likes to surprise her boyfriend with new sets and while looking around you find one that catches your eyes and you end up buying it with the pure intention of making it part of your game.
You’ve never been that big of a fan of fancy lingerie sets, but you do know it’s what you need to spice the game up.
When you’re finally home you put on the quite revealing black set, fix your hair and even look up what poses are the best if you want to send racy pictures to your partner. Well, Harry is not your romantic partner, but definitely your partner in this game.
You take quite a few pictures, some in the mirror, some with a timer, your camera roll turns into the newest issue of PlayBoy and it takes even more time for you to choose just one. When you finally settle on one it’s time for the fun part. Opening up the text threat with Harry, you send the photo and a few moments later a text.
Y/N: Sorry, meant to send it to someone else.
And then you just wait.
For an hour your message stays unread, but then the status changes and your heart jumps into your throat. He saw the message eleven minutes ago, but there’s no response and it sends you down the rabbit hole.
Did your plan work? Is he fighting a major hard-on at the office? Or does he think your attempt to seduce him was ridiculous? Is he gonna lecture you about sending nudes? Why is he not responding???
Minutes turn into an hour and you’re losing hair at this point, regretting you even thought about sending him a spicy picture and you’re about to block his number, getting yourself ready to never see him again when your phone finally chimes with a message and Harry’s name appears in the notification.
HARRY: No. Shit like this can only be meant for me. I’m serious.
You gasp. Almost moan reading his words. And suddenly you forget about the madness you went through in the past hour. It was worth it, it was all worth it because this one message has lit you on fire.
His message stunned you so much you didn’t even reply. What could be said after that?
Got it, sir.
Or maybe…
Don’t tell me what to do.
Oh yeah, that would have really messed with him, but you chose silence and he didn’t double text you either. It stopped the flow of regular messages too and in the next three days you realize how much you miss him when you’re not talking.
You’re falling for him and you hate that beside the little games, he is not taking the step you want him to.
A few days after the picture was sent an old friend of yours comes to visit his family in the city and the two of you agree to catch up over dinner. Salim was your study buddy through college, he was always up to spend the entire day in the library whenever you had a theoretical exam to take. Art school wasn’t just painting and creating all the time, unfortunately. After graduation he moved to France with his boyfriend and has been living there for the past years, but he often comes home to visit his loved ones and he always makes time for you as well. You’ve been keeping in touch, but not as regularly as you used to and it’s great to talk when you’re not only in the same time zone but also in the same room.
“Look at you! You’re glowing!” he greets you when you get out of the Uber and he wraps you in a tight hug.
“Not as much as you! I see Claude is taking good care of you!” you chuckle, squeezing him back before letting go of each other. He looks stylish as always and you notice he’s starting to dress more and more like Claude, whose style is excellent, by the way. They fit each other really well.
You walk into the restaurant, it’s one of your favorite places and the host shows you your table. You order appetizers and drinks and dig into everything you haven’t discussed over the phone in the past couple of months.
“Now, tell me about that Tinder guy you last mentioned,” Salim smirks at you over the table and you realize you never told him the whole story, just that you were going on a date with Harry.
A lot has happened since then.
You update him about the failed date and the meeting at the barbeque and how you’ve been messing with each other since then.
“You did what?” He almost chokes on his wine.
“I sent him a nude picture,” you repeat yourself with a coy smile.
“You’re really brave, I would have never had the balls,” he snorts.
“I needed to step my game up. But we’ve been stuck since then.”
“He’s too busy jerking off to your photo,” he chuckles.
“No,” you smile. “Maybe he is… here.”
Your eyes grow wide when you spot the all too familiar form of Harry by the bar and he is staring at you with a bewildered look that does things to you that you can’t exactly explain.
“What?” Salim’s face forms a confused frown.
“He is… literally here. At the bar and don’t turn around, but he is looking straight at us.”
Your body is reacting as if you were caught doing something you weren’t supposed to, but nothing like that is happening, so you’re not sure why your reaction is so intense. Luckily, discretion is no problem for Salim, so he turns to see Harry in a way that’s not too obvious. When he looks back at you his eyes are just as wide as yours.
“Holy shit, he really is hot!”
“I know!” you whisper, not sure what to do, because Harry is still very much staring at you. “Fuck, should I say hi?”
“No, let him come to you if he wants to!”
Nodding, you try your best to focus on the food and your friend in front of you, but it’s almost impossible when you can clearly see Harry over Salim’s shoulder. Either he keeps staring at you or you always catch him looking, doesn’t matter, because it makes your stomach drop every time your gaze meets his.
Then your phone lights up with a text from him.
HARRY: I hope it’s not a date.
“Oh my God, he thinks we are on a date,” you whisper to Salim upon reading the text while keeping your face as straight as humanly possible.
“Is he jealous?”
“Most likely,” you nod, typing your response.
Y/N: And what if it is?
His reply comes before you could even lock the phone.
HARRY: It better not be.
Y/N: So bossy. Unfortunately, you have no right to hold me back from dating.
“I think I stood my ground, but I feel like I’m gonna have a heart attack.”
Placing the phone back to the table with screen down you’re determined to focus on Salim from now on, but it’s just impossible to move on from those texts. At some point however, Harry disappears from your view and you fight the urge to check your phone to see if he had any response.
While Salim is trying to decide if he wants some dessert or just another cocktail you excuse yourself to the restroom. It’s definitely been an emotional rollercoaster, not just your usual friendly catch-up, you’ll surely be thinking about it for a while.
Just as you’re about to close the door behind you a foot sticks in and stops you and then everything happens so fast.
The door is forced open and you gasp as you take a step back and watch Harry walk in, close the door behind him and lock it as well. His eyes are burning as he looks at you and you’re just a speechless ragdoll as he pushes you against the cold, tiled wall, caging you between his arms, his hips pressing against yours.
“Who is he?” he hisses at you, his pupils dilated and wild and you’ve never seen him from this close, you’re basically breathing the same air.
“He’s…” You can’t speak or form any words, the air is pushed out of your lungs every time you try to fill them enough to give you the strength to speak up. Fuck, you’ve never seen him like this, but it’s making your pussy throb for sure.
“Answer me or I’ll go out and make a scene to find out.”
“He’s just a friend,” you manage to breathe out.
“Are you fucking him?”
“No.” You want to tell him that you couldn’t even if you wanted to, because Salim would be more interested in fucking him than you, but the words die on your tongue when he exhales sharply at your answer.
“Fuck your little games, Y/N,” he then says, almost growls as he shakes his head in defeat.
“Fuck me instead,” you hear yourself saying, but it’s as if it wasn’t you who spoke, yet you still said exactly what you had in your mind.
HIs eyes are throwing flames again when one of his hands moves to the side of your neck, his thumb moving under your chin to tilt your head upwards, angling your head, but still just teasing you.
“No more games.”
“No,” you shake your head desperately. Your hands have found their way to his waist and you fist his shirt, fighting the urge to rip it off him.
“I mean it, Y/N. It’s all in or nothing. I want you to be mine.”
“I’m already yours.”
His kiss comes so fast your head goes dizzy for a second before you recover and return it just as eagerly as it came. It’s been the longest foreplay, weeks worth of teasing and yearning after each other end now as Harry’s body presses you against the wall with so much force it’s almost too much, but you want him as close as possible.
Even though you’re certain you’ve lost your mind, your consciousness still knows you’re in a public bathroom and you have limited time. Harry knows too and he wastes no time moving you over to the counter, he hoists you up and sits you on top of the granite next to the sink. You gladly wrap your legs around his waist and lock him against you while his mouth is now exploring the curve of your neck and shoulders, desperately pushing the straps of your dress to the side to reach more of your skin. Your body is reacting instantly to him, your hips roll against him and you feel his bulge between your legs, a tortured moan slipping out of your mouth.
“Harry!” you beg him, when his hand slips under your dress and into your underwear, his skilled fingers teasing you just right, but you need him fast and hard, this is not the time and place to play games.
“I wish I could take my time with you,” he grunts before playfully biting the soft skin on your neck while unbuckling his belt. “But I’m gonna fuck you fast and you’ll take it like the good little slut you are.”
All you can do is whine and force your legs further apart, watching him push his pants and underwear down in one motion, his cock springing free, ready to ruin you. Harry pushes your dress up your torso and hooks a finger into your panties, pushing the fabric to the side to reveal your drenched pussy.
“Have you thought about me while touching yourself?” he asks, his other hand going to his cock, lazily tugging on it, precum dripping from the tip.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He jerks on his cock a few more times before spitting on it and pushing inside you without warning. A scream dies in your throat, because you bite into your own hand not to make too much noise, but he is definitely bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with, his erection is filling you up, stretching you like nothing and no one before.
“Don’t whine, I know you can take it,” he pants, his eyes rapidly switching between your face and his cock buried balls deep inside you.
All you can do is nod before he starts moving. He gives you a few slow thrusts to adjust, but then he picks his pace up and starts slamming into you ruthlessly.
And you love every moment of it.
It’s so animalistic, so intoxicating, your head feels dizzy again and you need everything inside you not to start screaming his name. Normally you need more stimulation and time to feel your orgasm building up in the pit of your stomach, but it’s different with Harry. You can already feel your climax nearing.
“So fucking good, you take me so well,” he preaches you, his hands holding onto your thighs to keep you in place and you curl an arm around his neck to pull yourself closer to him, pressing your lips to his in a messy kiss.
“I wanted to fuck you the moment I saw you in that bar.”
His words reach your brain and you process what he said, but you can’t reply at that moment, because you’re already on the verge of your orgasm.
It doesn’t take long for the both of you to reach your climax, he is the first one but you chase after him just seconds later. It lasts long and he keeps thrusting into you even when it’s dying down. His face is buried in your neck when he finally stops and you both are panting heavily.
When he lifts his head he’s looking at you with hazy eyes, but the smile that tugs on the corners of his lips is something you’ll remember for the rest of your life.
“You said you wanted to fuck me the moment you saw me at the bar,” you repeat his words from earlier now that you can actually form words. Judging from the look on his face he knows why you’re questioning him.
You never met at the bar, he stood you up that night.
“I went there,” he admits. “I saw that other guy flirting with you and… I didn’t think I stood a chance with you. So I left.”
You’re staring back at him in disbelief. All this time you thought he didn’t come because you weren’t good enough for him, but it was the opposite. He was there. He came and wanted to meet you, but lost his confidence because of that random guy.
“You’re the only person who ever stood a chance with me,” you softly say as you reach up to take his face in your hands.
“I thought I was too old for you.”
“But I knew you were older all along,” you chuckle. “It was never an issue for me.”
“I know,” he admits with a sigh. “I fucked up, I’m sorry.” He kisses you softly and it’s mind-blowing how he was fucking you hard just moments ago and now he is treating you so gently.
“I need to go back, Salim will get suspicious,” you sigh as you slip off the counter, trying to fix yourself.
“Oh, your date is waiting for you,” he teases you, pulling his pants back up.
“He is gay, Harry,” you chuckle and watch his expression change.
“Okay, I approve.”
You laugh and pull him down for another kiss.
“Should we talk about this after?”
“I can come over when you get home.”
“I’m afraid we won’t do much talking if you do that,” you grin at him, arching an eyebrow.
“Promise, I’ll be a gentleman for at least thirty minutes. That should be enough for all the talking.”
“Uhuh, alright. See you at mine then,” you nod before slipping out of the bathroom.
The plates are empty, dinner is now officially nearing its end but you still haven’t broken the news to your dad.
The news that you and Harry are together.
He is sitting across from you at the table, his hesitant eyes finding your gaze every other minute. He is shitting his pants, you know that, even though you told him your dad will probably take it well. He is not one to stress about such things, but Harry didn’t believe you, he thinks he’ll throw him out of the company and tell you to never see him again.
Absurd.
Clearing your throat you decide it’s time for the announcement.
“Dad, I want to tell you something,” you speak up and panic flashes through Harry’s face for a moment, but he’s quick to mask it.
“Alright, I’m listening,” he smiles at you.
“Okay, I’ll just… Um, I want you to know that I’ve been dating someone. It’s kind of… serious,” you add, your eyes finding Harry over the table and you don’t miss the blush on his cheeks.
“That’s amazing! Do I know this person?” your dad enthuses.
“Well, you know him very well. He is actually sitting here at the table.”
You watch as realization washes over his face, he looks over at Harry and then back at you, while you both wait for his reaction.
Then a tiny smile appears on his face and you know you were right, there was nothing to worry about.
“That’s great news, I’m happy for you.”
Harry exhales in relief and you can’t help but laugh.
“See? I told you,” you smirk at him with a shrug.
“Are you sure you’re alright with it?” Harry asks, still a bit doubtful, but your dad just smiles at him warmly.
“I’m more than sure, son. Why would I not be alright with it? I trust you with my company, I trust you with my daughter too. Easy as it is.”
Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!
It would be so cute if you could write about harry and yn being together since highschool and they were each others first everything and they got married very early and just their live together now yk
From Here To Eternity.
a/n: thank you to the very kind anon that requested this blurb, it was definitely a fun one to write and i’m sorry it took so long to post! fyi i’m absolutely terrible at writing smut so please don’t come at me🫶
masterlist || ask me anything <3
likes and re-blogs are very much appreciated!!
word count - 9.8k
in which, harry and you first met on your first day of secondary school, and since then your lives have always revolved around each other. she’s been there through everything, his x-factor audition, when the band first rose to fame, when they went on a hiatus and when he made it big as a solo star. they were each others first everything’s, and that made the whole ordeal just that more special.
September 4th, 2009 — the first meeting.
On the first day of secondary school, your nerves were through the roof. The fact that your hands were shaking was not helping the factor that you knew absolutely no one in this school.
You were absolutely terrified of being late to your classes and having to do the walk of shame towards your desk as everyone stared at you.
Walking down the hallway, you happened to spot a boy with brown curly hair, he was putting something away in his locker and a focused look on his face.
“Excuse me,” You gained his attention as you walked over to him, his snapping over to me. “I was wondering if you happened to know where room 102 was?”
He closed his locker behind him and stood up straighter. “— yeah I do, I’m heading there myself in a minute, what’s your name? M’Harry?”
Relief showered your body knowing that you had found someone to talk to and someone you could walk into class with. “My names (Y/N)”
“So are you new here?”he asked, gripping a hold of his backpack that was over his shoulder, it blended in with your school uniform.
You nodded your head. “—yeah we moved from Liverpool, today's my first day.”
“So what classes do you have today?” Harry asked as you tried not to bump into students in your way.
You glanced down at the timetable that was in your hands and let out a small groan. “I’ve got Math, English, Religious Studies and then Science”
Harry let out a small laugh. “— I’ve got the same, looks like we’re going to be in the same classes”
Thank god.
At least you would know someone in your classes through the day and wouldn’t have to feel like a loner.
“Maths is definitely my favourite subject,”Harry continued on smiling at the thought of his favourite subject. “What’s yours?”
“Oh I’m absolutely terrible at maths,”You shook your head before pondering an answer to his previous question. “— I think my favourite subject may be pe.”
As the two of you walked towards the class (more like you following behind him like a little bit of a lost puppy) you continued to chet about your favourite hobbies.
You found out that he was part of a music group named ‘White Eskimo’ and he had even invited you to rage along to one of their practices when you had time.
You found yourself laughing at the little jokes that he seemed to slip into the conversation and you felt a lot more at ease about the school day ahead.
By the time you both arrived at the door of the classroom, you felt your throat go dry upon seeing your Maths teacher Mr.Jones already reaching the class.
Not only had you made yourself late, you had now dragged your new friend down to your depths.
Great.
Harry tried to quietly open the door, hoping not to disturb the class but the teacher had already snapped their head over to see the two of you entering the room.
Mr.Jones raised an eyebrow at Harry. “Late on the first day back?”
Your new friend looked down at the ground slightly. “—M’sorry,Sir.”
The teacher let out a sigh before turning their attention over to you and eyeing you up carefully. “Who's your friend?”
“My names (Y/N), I’m new here and Harry helped me get here, it’s my fault we’re late.”I tried to explain to the teacher who just pushed there glasses further up the bridge of there nose.
“Well (Y/N) and Harry, go ahead and take the seats at the back of the class for me.”Mr.Jones nodded there head over to the two empty seats you were expected to occupy.
As the two of you sat down in the seats, you pushed a strand of hair behind your ear and felt your face flush a soft shade of pink.
Being late on your first day wasn’t so teething you expected to do. But they couldn’t really blame you.
You just didn’t want to make a bad first impression.
“I’m sorry about making you late.”You apologised to Harry, as you grabbed a pencil from your pencil case.
Harry waved you off with a reassuring smile. “— it’s all good.”
As the lesson progressed on you and Harry shared notes about the syllabus you were learning, helping each other with the work as much as you could without the teacher calling you out for speaking.
“Thanks for letting me sit next to you, you didn’t have to.” you muttered to Harry who was flicking through the textbook.
He smiled at you. “— honestly, it’s been my pleasure, and can’t wait to see where this friendship goes.”
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April 2nd, 2010 — Prom.
When Harry had invited you round his house on Saturday, you thought absolutely nothing of it.
Since you first started year eleven, you and Harry were quick to become best friends and would often go round each other's houses on the weekend and have a sleepover until Sunday.
When he opened the door after hearing you knock on it, you could instantly pick up on how nervous he was due to the fact his fingers were curled up into a fist.
“Hi, H!”you greeted him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek.
There was no doubt that over the course of your friendship that you hadn’t thought about him in another way.
You spent every school day together since you started and most weekends together as well unless you were doing something with your families.
Harry opened the door a bit more. “— hey, come on in.”
Once inside, Harry led you out to the back garden seeing as it was a warm summer's day, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
Until your eyes landed on the set up.
A picnic had been set up and a red and white chequered blanket was laid out on the greenery. A bowl of fruit in the middle with some sandwiches laid out as well.
“Wow..Harry,”you breathed out. “— what’s all this for?”
“I was thinking about Prom and how we weren’t too sure about if we should go,”he explained, sitting down on the blanket with you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “— I wanted to ask if you would be my Prom date? I wanted it to be special.”
Did you hear him right?
He wants you to be his prom date?
“Really?”was all I managed to speak, still trying to wrap my head around his question.
He nodded his head. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I can’t deny that I like you, we’re friends and going to prom together would be the first step into getting something more.”
Was this way of him saying he liked you?
Holy fucking moly.
“You like me?”
He smirked at you. “— isn’t that obvious?”
He took a sip of strawberry water from his cup. “So what do you say? Will you be my prom date?”
You flushed a shade of red making him let out a small laugh. “I would love to be your prom date!”
When Prom night finally came around, your nerves were skyrocketing.
You stood at the top of the stairs after hearing from your mum who was peering out the windows that your prom date had arrived and was eagerly awaiting for your prom dress to get revealed, so that he could like you even more.
You took in a small inhale of air before your heel clad feet started making their way down the stairs, hand holding onto the railing so that you didn’t fall and trip, and that was when you saw him.
Harry.
He was wearing a grey suit, with a white crisp shirt underneath as well as a matching grey suit vest and a black bow tie to compliment the outfit even more, his hair was styled the exact same with his unruly curls framing his face and had some black shoes on his feet.
“Wow,”Harry’s mouth gaped as he stared at you, “— you look beautiful!”
You had no idea that you would be matching colours seeing as you hadn’t even known what each other was going to wear.
This was complete coincidence.
Your dress was a light grey strapless dress with a long skirt that was layered. There was a sprinkling of light pink flowers embroidered onto the torso of the dress to add the slightest pop of colour.
Your cheeks flushed. “Thank you, you don’t look too bad yourself.”
Your mother was standing next to your father at the bottom of the stairs as well, a camera was in her hands as Harry came and stood next to you, placing a hand on your hip and bringing you in closer to him.
“The two of you look lovely.”Your mother complimented as she continued to take photos.
“Thanks mom.”You let out a small groan of embarrassment as Harry let out a small laugh.
Your father clapped Harry on the back as the two of you made your way towards the front door, he was grinning at him. “— take care of my daughter tonight, Harry.”
“I will Mr. (Y/L/N)”Harry let out a nervous chuckle.
After the two of you had said your goodbyes to your parents, Harry who had just passed his drivers test grabbed his keys out of his pocket and opened your car door for you like a true gentleman.
Once the both of you were in the seats, Harry turned to look at you with a look of fondness. “You really do look beautiful by the way.”
“And you really do look handsome.”You told him in truth, tucking a curl out of his eyes.
The drive to the venue was one filled with laughter and comfortableness when the two of you arrived at the venue, strobe lights were lining up the exterior as a red carpet was rolled out.
Throughout the entire night, you and Harry continued to dance, moving your bodies and that was when you realised just how charming and considerate Harry really was.
All in all you had a great time together.
As the night drew to a close and prom king and queen was announced, Harry placed a hand on the small of your back as the final slow dance of the evening took place.
“How would you feel if I took you on a real date sometime?”
Your heart skipped a beat and your stomach felt as if butterflies had taken home there. “— I would feel privileged.”
What a great way to end the night.
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June 17th, 2010 — the first time.
“If you're not ready to do this…''Harry panted out as you wrapped your arms around his neck from where you were laying underneath him, both of you in nothing but your knickers. “…then we don’t have to, I’m not pressuring you into doing anything.”
“I really want to do this,”you whispered, pressing a kiss to his nose. “— there’s no one else I would rather be doing this with, I trust you Harry, baby.”
After your first date, you and Harry had been on five more before he asked you to be his girlfriend and after dating for two months you finally figured out that you were both ready to take the next big step in your relationship.
Harry nodded his head and started leaving kisses down her jaw, and lower down her neck, making you squirm slightly in his grip.
He slowly pulled the waistband of your knickers down from your hips and gradually down your leg making you wish he would simply hurry up.
“God, you're making me melt over here, babe.” Harry complimented as he took sight of your bare core, glistening and all for him.
He was a virgin also, so that factor made this even more special.
“Please..please har..Harry.”you whined, head thrown back as his hand teased at your bud of nerves, he tried not to whine as well at seeing you like this.
Your first time was together.
He was getting you ready for him and that made you even more nervous.
The condom was on his length before you even got a chance to blink.
His length was bulky and there was a large vein leading up to the top of his penis, where a drop of pre cum was starting to form.
Harry laced your fingers together as he slowly entered your soaking core.
It wasn’t as painful as you had imagined but it was definitely uncomfortable.
It would take a lot of getting used to.
His eyes rolled to the back of his head at the feeling and knowing that the moisture was all because of him and no one else.
“You feel so good (Y/N).”Harry groaned as he thrusted in and out of you at a gentle pace.
You reached your hand up and pulled at his curls as moans and groans fell from both of your lips and filled his bedroom.
He kissed you with everything he had, and that was what solidified the deal for you.
You loved him.
Your legs tightened and your stomach copied.
“Let go, sweet girl,”Harry spoke softly, making a tear fall down your cheek at the pleasure you were currently facing. “— come for me, babe.”
“Let go, let go for me, sweet girl.” A wave of ecstasy rolled over your body as you came undone and felt his lips against your feverish skin.
Harry pressed a kiss to your lips. “— I love you (Y/N) I love you so much.”
Your pants made it hard to figure things out around you but you had definitely heard what he had said.
He loves you?
Harry Edward Styles really said he loved you.
You let out a small breath. “I love you Harry, I really do.”
There’s definitely a right place to say things like this and this was definitely the place.
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August 6th, 2010 — the news.
“I’ve got some news.”
You tilted your head to the side as you laid down next to Harry on the hammock in his garden, your legs entwined and your head rested on his chest.
You lifted your head up slightly. “What’s the news?”
“You know how you and mum are always saying that I’ve got a good voice?” He asked, running a hand up and down your arm.
You nodded at him as an answer, you did really think that he had a good voice, you would often hear him singing to himself getting changed in the mornings you would sleep over, you would hear him singing you to sleep at night when you were a little bit restless.
He was even part of ‘White Eskimo’ so if he was the frontman of a band then he obviously had a good voice.
“Well I think I’m going to audition for X-factor.”
You sat up completely, eyes wide as his words registered in your brain.
“You're going to audition for X-factor?”You exclaimed, “— as in the show with Louis Walsh and Dermot O Leary?”
He nodded his head. “I’ve been practising non stop, you hear me singing all the time, so it only seems like the right thing to do.”
“I’m really excited for you!” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his cheek out of pure affection.
“Do you have an idea about what you're going to sing?” You mused, staring at him softly.
“Yeah, I want to sing something that really showcases my voice so I’ve been thinking ‘Hey Soul Sister’.”
One of your favourite songs.
“That’s a really good song, H.” you informed him, lacing your fingers together. “— you're going to do absolutely amazing.”
He hummed. “You really think so?”
“I know so,” You assured him, the sun shining down on your skin to give it a nice sun kissed glow. “— and I’m always here if you ever want help practising.”
He laughed, throwing his head back slightly at your words, you both knew that you were a very bad singer so just the thought of you helping him out seemed funny.
“I’ll definitely consider that.”
Over the next few weeks leading up to the audition, you would hear Harry singing every chance he got.
Whether that be in the shower, in the car on the way to school, and sometimes when you stayed over you could swear that you heard him singing in his sleep.
But that only showed his dedication to impress the judges.
And that hard work definitely paid off.
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February 19th, 2013 — gaining permission.
It was a warm summer’s evening when Harry approached the front door of your childhood home.
His nerves were high as he raised his fist to knock against the wood, his mind still rehearsing everything that he was about to say to him.
After hearing someone knock against the front door, your father raised his eyebrows and went ahead towards it, opening it up and coming face to face with your boyfriend of nearly three years.
“Hello Mr. (Y/L/N)”Harry greeted the man he called a second father and offered him a grin.
Your father and Harry shook hands. “— Afternoon, Harry.”
You had absolutely no idea that Harry was going round to speak to your father tonight seeing as you were on a girls weekend with a few friends from school, and so Harry thought this would be the best time to speak to him, without you wondering where he was.
The timing was perfect really.
“I came to talk to you about something really important, if that’s alright with you.”Harry explained, his palms suddenly becoming slightly sweaty.
Your father invited him into the home and they both settled down on the sofas in the living room, Harry began speaking seeing as he couldn’t hold it off anymore.
"Mr. (Y/L/N), I know we're young, but I can't imagine my future without your daughter," Harry stated as he sat across from your dad.
"I appreciate your honesty, Harry. But marriage is a big commitment. Are you sure you're ready for that?" Your dad replied, folding his arms.
When Harry was placed as a member of One Direction, he didn’t think that his life would change drastically, he had heard stories of boy bands and their girlfriends always having a hard time, but you and Harry were beating all the odds.
The two of you were stronger than ever.
"Yes, sir," Harry answered confidently. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I love her so much and I want to spend the rest of my life making her happy."
Your dad leaned back in his chair, contemplating Harry’s words. "Well, I have to say, I'm impressed with your sincerity. It's not often you see such devotion in young people these days. Alright, I'll give you my blessing."
The singer let out a sigh of relief and a smile spread across his face. "Thank you, sir! I'll do my best to make her happy every day."
As Harry stood up to leave, your dad stopped him. "One more thing, James. Promise me that you'll take care of her. She's my little girl and I love her more than anything in this world."
"I promise, sir," Harry replied, nodding his head earnestly. "I'll always be there for her and do whatever it takes to make her happy."
As Harry left, your dad couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and joy. He knew that his daughter was in good hands with a man who loved her so deeply.
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March 1st, 2013 — the pier.
Coming to the pier was a bit of a last time for you and Harry.
It held a lot of memories for the two of you.
When you would spend the nights round his house on the weekends, you would sneak out of the house and go and spend some time at the arcades at the end of the pier, he even won you a stuffed unicorn once.
You had gone there after prom when he asked you out on a proper date to stare at the stars as they rested in the sky,
After your fifth date, Harry had brought you to the pier and asked if you wanted to be his girlfriend.
You had been on the pier when he told you that he was put in One Direction, you weren’t allowed to be at that audition because your parents said that school was more important, you were there when he told you that his life was about to change drastically.
As you and Harry walked along the pier, he held your manicured hand tightly.
“So how was your day, baby?” You quizzed him, swinging your hands back and forth slightly.
“It was good,”Harry replied, “— busy with getting things ready for the tour, but it was good overall.”
You knew how hard he and the rest of the boys were working so that they could get everything ready for the tour they were about to embark on, you were tagging along as well so that you could spend as much time with Harry as possible.
“I can imagine,”you offered him a small smile. “How’s all that going?”
“I think it’s going well, to be honest.”he squeezed your hand as you continued walking down the pier. “— we’re just working on nailing the set list and then everything should be ready to go.”
As the two of you walked, the topic of conversation shifted from work to your family and then to finally what you both wanted your future to look like.
Over the years you had learned to feel comfortable with speaking to Harry about everything and anything.
“Speaking of the future,” He spoke, making you glance over at him, your eyes locking. “— what do you see in our future?”
You had thought about an answer to this question for a while now and contemplated telling him, but now seemed like the appropriate time to say it.
“I definitely see us having a happy, loving life together,”you began to answer, breathing softly. “Maybe a house, marriage and definitely some kids, you’d be a great dad.”
Harry’s heart swelled after hearing your words. “That sounds absolutely perfect.”
The two of you gazed out at the moonlit waves crashing below the wooden slats that were holding the pier up.
Finally, you reached the end of the pier where Harry stopped and turned to face you.
"(Y/N), I know we're only young," he began, "but I love you more than anything in this world. These past three years have been the happiest of my life and I can't imagine spending my future with anyone else."
Your heart was pounding as she stared into Harry’s forest green orbs that seemed to sparkle in the moonlight.
"H, I love you too," you replied, your voice shaking slightly.
“Sweetheart, you're my best friend, actually your more than that, your my whole world, my absolute reason to wake up every morning, you’ve been by my side through all the hardships and to say you’ve made me a better man would one hundred percent be the understatement of the century.”
Your heart pounded in your chest, trying to regulate your breathing as your ears started ringing as you stared at the man you adored.
Your eyes widened as you watched Harry kneel down on one knee and pull out a small velvet box from his pocket. "(Y/N), will you marry me?"
Marriage.
Harry wanted you to be his wife.
You could barely see him through the tears that were falling from your eyes, but you could make out that he was crying as well.
Tears streamed down your cheeks as you nodded vigorously.
“Yes, yes, of course, I will!" You exclaimed, throwing your arms around Harry’s neck.
Once the two of you broke away from the hug, he slipped the ring from the box onto your finger, both hands shaking from the adrenaline currently coursing through their body.
The two of you embraced tightly, feeling each other's heartbeat as the gentle breeze swirled around you. For you and Harry, this moment felt like the beginning of forever.
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August, 2014 — I do.
You took in a deep breath as you stood at the end of the altar next to your father, your arm linked with his as your other hand held a bouquet of flowers.
When the familiar chords of one of your and Harry’s favourite songs rang out throughout the small registery office that the two of you had decided to get wed at, that was when you realised that this was really happening.
You were getting married.
“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Your father asked you, head tilted to the side.
You took in a hesitant small breath as you nodded at the words your father had just spoken. “Honestly, this is as ready as I’ll ever be.”
He nodded his head at your words before opening the doors to the side of the room, your breath hitched in your throat.
Your groom lifted his head when he heard whispers filling up the room and that was all the clarification he needed to know that you were present.
He hesitantly lifted his head and salt water instantly filled his orbs.
You looked astonishing.
It felt as if it was just the two of you in the room, your eyes remained locked on each other as you got closer and closer, the moment was pure and heartwarming.
Harry’s curls had grown out since your engagement on the pier so they were pushed back by a simple headband, so they didn’t block his view of you and he was adorning a suit of black colour, a white frilled shirt underneath as a thin silk black tie hung around his neck.
Your wedding dress was what you had always dreamed your dress would look like on your special day. It was Lacey and hung loosely to your figure in certain areas, flowers embroidered the sleeves and around your collar.
As your heel clad feet came to a stop by your soon to be husband, your father left a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, before taking a seat at the front two next to your mother as well as Harry’s parents and sister.
Your hand slipped into Harry’s and he rubbed soft circles on the back of it to reassure you that everything was going to be okay.
“You look beautiful, m’love.”Harry whispered as his own eyes filled with more tears.
The officiant glanced around at the people around you that were gathered in the small room before clearing his throat and beginning to speak.
“(Y/N) and Harry have decided to write their own vows as a declaration of there love for one another as well as there marriage,” the man began, looking down at the notes in his hands.
You and Harry locked gazes with each other and both offered each other a small smile, this was really happening.
“God, Harry I don’t even know where to begin,”you looked down at the piece of paper in your hand that was filled with your handwriting.
“— just for this day, I had to Google what the definition of a soulmate was but then I realised I didn’t have to. You were the definition. Plain and Simple. When we first met our first conversation was me asking you for directions, but over the past three years of getting to know you and fall continuously in love with you, I have come to known that you have showed me new directions of life, directions I didn’t think I would see unless I hadn’t of met you. You continue to make me proud and that’s one of the main reasons I love you.”
You glanced up at him when you had finished reading your vows and watched as a single tear rolled down his cheek.
Harry turned to look at the small gathering of people you had invited to be here for this special moment, and a wet chuckle fell from his lips. “How on earth am I supposed to beat that?”
He turned back to look at you, unfolding a piece of paper from his shit pocket and starting to read aloud. “— My sweet girl, m’love, when we first started dating, straight from the get go I had promised to cherish you from then on out, from our first meeting you instantly captured my heart, you’ve made me a better person, and for that I simply can’t thank you enough, your all I ever want and more, I love you and will continue to love you as long as my heart remains beating.”
There was definitely not a dry eye in sight when Harry had finished reading.
“(Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N), do you take Harry Edward Styles to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward?”
“I do.”
“And do you Harry Edward Styles take (Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N) to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward?”
“Of course I bloody do!”
Harry’s best man, his stepfather Robin Twist steps forward from where he’s sat next to Anne, offering both of you the rings.
The ring slipped onto Harry’s finger effortlessly.
His hands worked delicately to slip yours on.
The officiant smiled adoringly. “— with the power invested in me, I now declare you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride!”
Harry didn’t waste a second in bringing his lip balmed lips down against yours, as the taste of strawberry filled your senses, the kiss was one full of tenderness and love.
It was all official.
You were now Mrs. (Y/N) Styles.
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June 18th, 2015 — the delivery.
"I'm here!"
You looked up from the hospital bed you were currently laying on to see your husband run into the room, his eyes wide as he assessed the situation.
You were laid on the hospital bed, tears falling freely down your cheeks as your mother crouched at your bed side holding your hand and soothing you.
"H..Harry…"You spoke, voice coming out dry and hoarse.
The man rushed to your side, taking a hold of your hand and pushing some of the hair that had dried around your forehead out of your face. "— it's okay sweet girl, it's all okay. I'm here now"
Your mother gulped and looked down at the two of you. "I'll wait outside, give the two of you some space"the older women turned to look at her daughter. "You've got this (Y/N)"
Got what exactly?
Let’s answer that question.
You and Harry never really got to have a proper honeymoon after your wedding, due to the fact he was touring and didn’t have enough time to change the plans when they surrounded the band and management.
So almost six months ago, the band had decided to go on a little break near Christmas time so that they could spend the new years at home with their families and so you and Harry went back to holmes chapel.
And on Christmas Eve, the two of you christened the night and an explosion of love was formed.
You got pregnant.
And now, not even near the full term of pregnancy, your waters had broken when you were on a coffee date with your mother, your nerves were heightened especially when you had four months left in your pregnancy.
Once your mother had left the room, you turned to look at your husband, swallowing roughly. "I can't do it Harry..it's too early..they're not gonna make it!"
"Don't think like that, everything's going to be fine, I promise.” and with that he pressed a kiss to your damp cheek, grabbing ahold of your hand and rubbing the back of it softly.
Suddenly, you pinched her eyes shut and let out one of the most ear piercing painful cries Harry had ever heard, his heart beating erratically against his rib cage.
He stood up. "— I'm going to go and get some help alright..i'll be back as soon as possible"
He ran out of the room his wife was in and towards the reception area, his eyes landing on nurses who were sat there talking away. "— I need some help..my wife's having our baby"
You were clutching your stomach when Harry sprinted back into the room and resumed his position next to you, the nurses coming in followed by a doctor all smiling at you in the bed.
"Hi Mrs Styles, my names Dr Armstrong and I'll be helping you deliver your baby today, to make this experience as calm as possible, I'm going to need you to lift up your legs for me so I can check how dilated you are"
"You've got this"Harry whispered, his lips pressed against the shell of your ear.
You hesitated for a few seconds due to the fact the only person that had ever looked between your legs was harry, and the thought of any other man seemed daunting, but after Harry gave you a gentle look you slowly raised your legs up so they were bent on the bed and watched with watery eyes as the doctor slipped some latex gloves on his hand before slowly placing his hands between your legs.
The doctor then pulled his hands back, Harry letting his eyes fall on the blood on the top of the gloves, the doctor muttering a few things to the nurses, who then walked over to the other side of the room and started picking up blankets and towels.
What was happening?
"Mrs Styles, Mr Styles"the doctor cleared his throat. "— this probably isn't what the two of you were expecting but this baby is coming rather fast, and when I say fast I mean very, very fast"
Harry gulped and shook his head. "But she's only five months, surely that's not right"
The doctor smiled at the soon to be father. "That is very soon yes sir, but I have delivered babies much sooner than five months, and if we do everything right and take our time everything should be fine, I assure you"
The words just made your throat go even more dry, like sandpaper upon hearing that you were ten centimetres dilated and was soon going to be having the baby which just sent a sense
of dread to vibrate throughout your body.
"I don't want to do this Harry," You cried. "I don't want to do this..I can't"
Harry stroked a hand through your hair that was sticking to your forehead. "— you can do this sweet girl, I know you can, wouldn't have put our sweet baby in you if I didn't"
You nodded your head with all the energy that you could muster up and sat up a little bit further in the bed, your tight grip on Harry’s hand only getting tighter.
"Okay Mrs Styles, give me a nice gentle push."the doctor instructed, the nurses coming over to be on standby.
The next contraction hits your body and you ground your teeth together as you push, putting all the counter pressure in your hips.
Pushing kind of felt like when you were going to the toilet, only this was much more painful.
Tears continued to slide down your cheeks, Harry’s slightly calloused hands rubbing across her own as his own eyes welled with tears seeing the girl he loved and adored in so much pain.
"That was so good Mrs Styles,"the doctor complimented. "You're doing so well, repeat what you just did for me when your next contraction occurs, okay?"
Harry kissed your temple, just as another contraction ripped through your body, making it feel as though you were on fire.
"I can see the head."
The voices were numb to your ears, seeing as you were too busy focusing on pushing, your teeth were gritted together as your head was tucked down to your chest.
"We're so close to meeting them Sweet girl, so close,"Harry encouraged, looking in the eyes of his wife whose eyes were black.
The usual colour were filled with a pain filled black.
"The next push and you should have your baby, give me a big push Mrs Styles."
You pushed, this one feeling much longer than the others, keeping a white knuckle grip on Harry’s hand.
And that's when you heard it.
A cry filled the room, a literal babies cry.
Your and Harry’s babies cry.
"Is everything okay?"Harry quizzed, not removing his hand from your sweaty grasp.
You watched as the doctor nodded his head, letting his eyes flicker from between the two. "— congratulations Mr and Mrs Styles, you have a beautiful baby boy."
A boy.
You had a son.
A beautiful baby boy who was your’s forever.
"Would you like some skin to skin contact with your son, Mrs Styles?"Dr Armstrong asked, holding the baby in his arms.
"Yes please."You answered, perhaps a bit too quickly.
The doctor walked forward and gently laid the baby against your bare chest, moving the hospital gown out of the way.
The second your sweet baby boy was placed against your chest, you couldn't help but loud out a few cries.
Sobs even.
It may have been a bit earlier than the two of you expected, but now you simply wouldn't change it for the world.
The Styles were complete.
Harry couldn't help but let a tear fall down his cheeks, not bothering to wipe it away.
This is all he had worked for, and now it was finally here he couldn't be happier.
"Do we have a name?"one of the nurses asked, smiling at the sight of the mother holding the baby.
You locked eyes with Harry. "You tell them sweet boy"
Harry swallowed and nodded his head, not letting his eyes falter from the baby boy attached to his wife's bare chest.
"August,"he spoke. "— August Harry Styles."
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July 2nd, 2015 — the announcement.
As Harry Styles sat down for his interview, his long hair cascaded down his shoulders as he sat with the rest of the boys on the James Corden Show, a striped shirt hugging his body made of different shades of blue silk, with some black skinny jeans and a pair of chelsea boots.
He greeted James with a warm smile and sat down in the middle of Niall and Louis, he couldn't help but feel a bit nervous. It had been a while since he had spoken to the press, and he knew that they would have a lot of questions for him.
The first few questions were easy enough - how was his music career going? What were his plans for the future? But then, James asked him the question he had been dreading.
A question regarding his son.
Harry couldn’t be mad at James, it was his job after all and he knew for a fact that it was bound to come up one day, James was his friends, he wasn’t alone in the interview seeing as he was surrounded by his band mates, so he didn’t really have a factor to worry about.
"Harry, there have been rumours circulating that you have a son. Can you confirm or deny these rumours?"
Harry took a deep breath and looked directly into the camera. "I can confirm that the rumours are true," he said, his voice steady.
The host raised an eyebrow. "Can you tell us more about your son? How old is he?"
"He's just a baby," Harry replied, not wanting to really give away much about him. "I don't want to get into too many details, but he's the most amazing thing that's ever happened to me."
And it was true.
Just over three weeks ago, little Auggie flew into there lives and made them just that much better than they already were.
The sleepless nights brought the two of you closer,
Nappy changes brought the two of you closer,
And baby sick made the two of you closer.
The interview continued, but Harry's mind was elsewhere. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had just revealed a major secret. What would people think of him now that they knew he was a father?
But when Harry left the studio and checked his phone, he was overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support from his fans.
They sent him messages telling him how happy they were for him and how much they respected him for being honest.
In the end, Harry realised that being a dad was nothing to be ashamed of - it was something to be proud of. And with his fans by his side, he knew he could handle anything that came his way.
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25th May, 2023 — tour life.
Touring with your husband whilst he completed his last leg of tour was something you would never get over.
Especially now that you had two little munchkins touring with you, it made you think of all the different places the two of them would get to visit at such young ages.
Your little August was weeks away from turning seven and recently you had welcomed a little girl into the family, well not really recently.
A little girl named Margot.
Margot ‘gigi’ Anne Styles.
Touring was amazing, you got to spend all day surrounded by the people you adored to the end of the earths.
You were currently in Edinburgh.
And the two of you had woken up early due to your teething newborn and decided to head down to the hotel gym whilst it wasn’t busy and get in a little workout alongside your husband to try and get your body back to its pre baby shape.
Whilst you got ready and pumped some milk that Margot would be eating later, Harry had taken the kids down to the gym with him and told you to meet him there as that would be easier.
It really was.
As you walked into the gym, your eyes instantly landed on your husband Harry who was on a treadmill, already working up a sweat.
Seeing him working out always seemed to do something to you, and you have no idea why.
Maybe it was because you liked the look of the way the sweat would be rolling down his skin and making it sticky.
Or the way his hair stuck to his temple making him even look more delicious.
Almost ten years of marriage and you still got fireworks erupting your body whenever you were in his presence.
You smiled to yourself as you made your way over to him.
"Hey there good looking," You greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, making him freeze slightly before registering that it was you and smiling softly to himself.
"Hey m’love," he replied, slowing down the treadmill to join you, he leant over the handles of the machine and leaned down so that you were the same height.
"How's it going?"
"It's good. I’m knackered, but it’s good,Just trying to keep in shape for our little ones," he said, pointing to your son August, who was playing in the corner and drawing in his notebook, whilst your eight-month-old daughter Margot, who was asleep in her stroller, thumb in her mouth and head pulled to the side.
"I know what you mean. It's crazy how much our lives have changed since we got married," You answered, wiping down the machine before hopping on and starting up on the treadmill with a brisk walk.
"Yeah, it's wild to think about. But I wouldn't change a thing. We have a beautiful family and I'm so proud of everything we've accomplished," he said, glancing over at the kids, a smile involuntarily making its way onto his face.
"Me too," You agreed, adjusting my speed so that you were now in a slow jog. "Sometimes I can't believe we went from being just two kids in love to parents of two."
It really did blow your mind sometimes.
You remember the first time that you met Harry and your nerves skyrocketed. You were new to the school and knew absolutely no one, so when you and him became friends, it was like the two of you were meant to be.
But now, through all the good and the bad, the two of you had made it out on top, through all the hate from his fans, and all the hardships you now had the most perfect family, one that you would be able to cherish for the rest of your life.
"I know, right? But we make it work and we make each other better. And that's all that matters," Harry leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheek before hopping back into his workout mode, matching your pace on the machine.
The two of you continued to work out, talking about the things you normally would, like what dreams you had during the night and what you wanted to do the day before his tour.
“I was thinking we could take the kids to a cafe for lunch today,” You suggested, taking a break on the machine to take a sip out of your water bottle. “— I was thinking it would be something different, I don’t want the kids to get bored, y’know?”
Harry pondered the idea for a second before nodding his head. “Yeah, sounds like a good idea.”
It wasn’t long before you were all heading out for cafe.
It was a warm and sunny afternoon when you l, Harry and the kids approached the cosy little cafe in the heart of the Scottish city.
After your little gym session this morning, you and Harry had both gone back to the hotel room, had some showers and then got yourselves and the kids ready.
Harry was wearing a dark grey t-shirt with some pastel coloured designs on the front of it, blue ripped jeans hugging his legs accessorised with a pair of blue and white chequered vans, a blue cap and his iconic white bug eyed sunglasses over his face.
Harry had gotten Margot ready this morning, as you were in the shower. She was wearing a dark green romper, with a nice white bow headband pushing her curls out of her face, some knee high white socks adorning her feet.
After making sure that August was ready, his outfit consisted of a beige coloured oversized shirt, a cap on his hat so that he could match his daddy and a cap so he could match his daddy, and a pair of black shorts on his legs.
Once all of the kids were ready, it was then your time to get ready for the day. You shifted through the suitcase containing your clothes and decided on a simple outfit. It consisted of a pink oversized jumper paired with a matching pink pair of cycling shorts, some sunglasses and a pair of trainers on your feet.
It seemed like forever until you were all ready to leave the room.
As you made your way inside the cafe, you could see August's eyes light up with excitement as he eyed the pastry display case.
A worker greeted the four of you as you approached the counter, pulling your sunglasses up so that they were resting on the top of your head.
Your little boy turned to look at you with puppy dog eyes. "Mommy, can I have a chocolate croissant?"
"Sure, sweetie,” You nodded your head, adjusting your hands that were resting on the stroller handles as they were getting a bit sweaty. “— But just one, okay?"
You really didn’t want to deal with him having a stomach ache if he ate too many Pan Au Chocolates.
All the food sounded so good.
"I think I'm going to get a sandwich,” Your Husband spoke.
“What about you, baby?" Your husband spoke up, looking at the menu that was hung above your heads.
"I'll have a panini, I think,” You told him, turning to look at him and offering him a small smile. “And Margot is just going to have some pureed veggies."
You placed our order and then proceeded to sit down at a cosy table by the window, the sun beating through the windows. Little Margot comfortably nestled in her stroller beside you and Harry whilst August sat on the other side of the round table so that he was also next to both of you.
It was filled with small talk whilst you waited for your order to arrive at the table, the Scottish weather really was amazing this time of year.
"Daddy, did you know that I spelt a really big word with Mrs. Addams today?" August piped up, leaning forward in his seat eagerly.
August was coming up to seven so that meant that he would have already started school, but due to the fact you and the kids were touring the world with Harry that means he wasn’t able to go to school as much as he would have liked.
So in order for him to continue his studies, you and Harry both agreed that a teacher coming on tour with the two of you would be what’s best, and so far it’s been really good.
There’s been times where August’s kicked off about being too tired to learn but Harry being his father just learns that he inherited his stubbornness.
August was definitely a daddy’s boy through and through, in personality and appearance, he definitely had a little bit of separation anxiety when it came to Harry, but that was totally plausible due to the fact he was away for work quite a lot.
When Margot came into the world, she completed your family, she filled a void that the three of you didn’t know were missing and made your hearts just that much fuller.
Both children were spitting images of their father, you wouldn’t think that you were the one that carried them at all.
They both had his iconic brown curls (Auggie’s were a bit more longer due to the fact he had seen a photo of Harry with long hair and insisted he grow it out.) they had his green eyes that you fell in love with, and had his dimples and bunny teeth.
“Really? That's amazing!” Your husband gushed, reaching forward to fist bump his son with a proud smile on his face. “— What word did you spell?"
"Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!"
"Wow, that's quite a mouthful,”Harry leaned forward to press a kiss against his mini me’s forehead. “I'm proud of you, buddy."
August smiled at his fathers words before you all began to chat about something else.
As the four of you chatted and waited for your food to arrive, Margot began to fuss and squirm in her stroller.
"Looks like someone's getting hungry,” You went to stand up and go to her aid, her veggie purée that was in the baby bag under the stroller. “Let me get her a bottle."
"I can do it, love,” Harry grabbed a hold of your wrist softly, and stood himself up to approach the stroller “You stay here and eat. I'll take care of Gigi."
You smiled gratefully at your husband as he took Margot out of her stroller and sat her down on his lap as he started feeding her the purée you had made this morning in the hotel room while August and you chatted about what he wanted to do for the rest of the day.
As you finished your lunch, Harry chuckled and began to speak, "I don't think I've ever been surrounded by this much cuteness before."
That was true, your kids were the absolute cutest and the two of you weren’t biassed at all.
“And we wouldn't have it any other way." You sighed contentedly, they were your entire world, without the kids and Harry you're not sure what you would be doing right now.
With full bellies and happy hearts, you gathered your things and headed back out into the bustling city, ready to take on the rest of the day together as a family.
As you left the cafe in Edinburgh, you watched as Harry pushed Margot’s stroller, and held August’s hand so that he was close to you. You could see the fans waiting outside, and knew that you had to be careful.
As you made your way to the car, the fans started to call out your husband's name. "We love you, Harry!" they would shout.
You could feel August's grip on your hand tightening. He was scared, and you didn't blame him. You had been going out with Harry for thirteen years and still his fans didn’t cease to make you anxious. But you knew that you had to keep moving, to show that August couldn’t be scared because he would be scared if you were.
You reached the car, and Harry quickly put Margot in her car seat. August climbed into the back, and I got into the passenger seat, whilst Harry got in the driver's seat. As you drove away, you could see the fans in the rearview mirror, still calling out your husband's name.
"Mommy, why do they want to see daddy?" August asked, you could hear a slight quiver in his voice.
You offered him a gentle smile as you turned back to look at him in the backseat, his hand was holding onto his Sister’s,"Because he's a very talented singer, Auggie. A lot of people love his music."
August nodded, and you could see that he was starting to relax. You knew that it was going to be a long tour, but you were determined to keep your family safe and happy.
As Harry drove through the streets of Paris, you could feel the excitement building in the air. Harry’s husband's tour was going to be huge, and you
Knew that he was going to be amazing. But you also knew that it was going to be hard on all of you.
"Mommy, can we listen to daddy’s music?" August asked from the backseat.
"Of course, sweet boy," Harry enthusiastically reached forward, turning on the radio. Adore You came on, and I could see August's face light up.
"Your so good," August exclaimed, “— your the bestest singer in the whole wide world!” He was tapping his foot to the beat.
You and Harry both smiled, You were feeling proud of your husband and his talent. But also knew that being a pop star wasn't easy. There were always fans waiting outside, always paparazzi trying to get a photo.
You and your family arrived back at the hotel, and you quickly got Margot out of her car seat whilst Harry picked August up, although he was almost seven years old almost, he still like a cuddle.
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May 26th, 2023 — late night talking.
“Can you believe it's been almost ten years since we got married?" You asked Harry as you lifted up his hand to play with the wedding band sitting around his ring finger.
You laid in bed with Harry in Edinburgh, after his show and the two of you were absolutely knackered.
His show was incredible like it always was, he got the crowd going like always and brought a smile on not just your face and the children’s faces but every fan's face in the stadium.
He was in everybody's safe space.
You had put the kids to bed earlier and had both shared a shower together before crawling into bed and snuggling up against one another like always.
Harry chuckled and replied, "I know, it feels like yesterday. We were so young and naive back then."
You smiled up at him, shifting on your side and placing a hand on his naked torso (he liked to sleep in just his boxers), "But look at us now, we have a beautiful family and a great life."
Harry nodded his head. "Yeah, we've come a long way. I'm proud of us."
You looked at Harry, "Remember when we used to talk about having kids? We were so scared."
Harry laughed, "Yeah, we were clueless. But now we have August and Margot, and I’d like to say we're doing just fine."
Parenting was definitely hard at times, but you and Harry always worked together to make sure that everything was going smoothly at all times, you both agreed you didn’t want your kids growing up in a household where there was animosity.
You grinned,pecking a kiss to his chest, "August is growing up so fast. He's already six years old."
Where had the time gone?
Where was your itty bitty five pound baby?
"I know, it's crazy,” Harry nodded, rubbing a hand up and down your back in a soft manner. “—And Margot is already eight months old. Time really does fly."
You sighed contentedly, "I'm so grateful for you and our family. We've been through so much, but we always come out stronger."
Harry smiled lovingly at you, pressing a soft kiss to your nose, "That's what love does. It makes us stronger."
It was true.
You and Harry always came out stronger when the two of you had a little disagreement, and that’s what made your relationship worth while.
You and Harry continued talking, reminiscing on your lives, feeling grateful for their life together. You knew that you had both come a long way, but if there was one thing you were looking forward too, it was to see what the future for their family.
"Are you okay?" You asked Harry as you noticed him struggling to keep his eyes open.
Harry shook his head, "I'm just feeling a bit tired today. I didn't get much sleep last night due to Gigi teething and the routings just started to get to me, nothing that a good nights sleep can’t fix.”
Yoy looked at Harry with concern, "Why didn't you tell me? Tonight, when the baby monitor goes off, I’m going to get Margot, I don’t care if you insist I sleep, I’m going, you need to be well rested.”
Harry smiled at you once again, yawning shortly before. "Thank you. But I wanted you to get some rest too. You've been working so hard lately."
You felt touched by Harry's words.
You knew that he was always looking out for you, even when he was struggling himself.
“Let’s try and get some shut eye.” You turned to the left and switched off your lamp on the bedside table before turning back around and snuggling into your husband's chest once again.
This was definitely your favourite sleeping position. His arms made you feel safe, as if no harm could ever come to you or the kids.
“I love you.” Harry spoke, looking down at you and puckering his lips slightly.
“And I love you, darling,” You replied, pressing one last goodnight kiss to his lips. “— from here to eternity?”
Author's note: Hi? I am sort of back?! IT'S BEEN HARD! I mean keeping a balance between medical school and writing and the other aspects of my personal life. This chapter is relatively short compared to the others. I wanted to keep it short. Since mostly of it was already written. I also wanted to post something for you. I hope you enjoy. I'll begin writing right away! Let me know what you think! Stay safe and heathy.
He felt sick to his stomach. He dreaded having her in his presence. He wasn’t scared of her, either. Harry just genuinely didn’t like her one bit. It also pissed him off that his day had been ruined by seeing her. Harry tried his best to revisit the nice, fresh memories that he had of this afternoon with Y/N. Like when her clumsy self had poured wine all over her white shirt and Harry offered his blazer, so she was able to cover the spot.
“Quite a place you got here” She spoke, her eyes scanning the picture frames that Harry had on his desk. He mentally kicked himself for not removing them before she arrived. “Is this her? Your new toy”.
It was a picture of Y/N from their very first night out. Her back was away from the camera, only exhibiting her bare back.
“S’definitely none of your business” he responded coldly, choosing to ignore the ‘toy’ part of her comment in hopes of keeping things calm, so he could go home. “Wha’ is it that you want, Ashley?”
She shrugged and continued her exploration of the room.
“Come on. I am sure you got things and place to be and so do I” Y/N and Oliver were waiting for him to come home. His girlfriend had expressed her desire to cuddle with him to watch a movie after he got home from work. Something he was looking forward to. “Therefore, let’s get this over with”.
“Is it because Y/N is waiting for you home, Harry?” She cocked her head from where she stood. “Quite lovely face and body she has. I see why you find her attractive”. Harry inhaled a sharp breath, surprised that she knew her name and that she could recognize her.
“Don’t make this more difficult. How much do you want? Is that what you want? Ran out of it? Don’t have enough to keep buying drugs and alcohol?” He hated that she had brought Y/N to the conversation. It pissed him off. She had nothing to do with it. “Let me write you a check”.
“Don’t you fucking patronize me!” She yelled, banging her hands on his wooden desk.
Harry barely even flinched. He had struck a nerve, and he enjoyed the satisfaction that spread through him.
“I am wrong, then? You are here fo’ what? Jus’ to say hello?” He laughed bitterly. “I want to know why the fuck did you break into my house!”
“Broke into your house? I would never, Hazz” The nickname made him cringe. It brought him memories of the night that they had conceived Oliver. “Not when little Oliver is there anyway”
“Don’t talk about him. Don’t even say his name” He snapped, “What the fuck do you want?”
“I find it very interesting that your ex-girlfriend was the one to reach out to me to let me know who was raising my son” Ashley revealed as she sat down. “And how you were head over heels and allowed her to do anything regarding him”.
“I think you are a bit confused, darling” Harry leaned back on his chair and crossed his legs. “Oliver isn’t your son. He stopped being yours when you signed away all your rights for some money. Don’t you remember? You wanted an abortion?”
Ashley remained quiet, not knowing what to say or do.
“Now we got that out of that way. Tell me what is that you want?”
“Leave Y/N. Break up with her” It was Harry’s turn to laugh heavily.
“You are ridiculous. I don’t even know why I ever agreed to meet up with you” Harry pushed himself away from the desk, ready to go home to his girlfriend and son.
“This isn’t a game, Styles. Break up with her before things get worst. Yo—”
“Are you threatening me? I would choose wisely your next words, Ashley. I don’t do well with threats” He cut her off, edging closer to her. “I suggest you crawl back in the hole you came back from before I make sure you end up behind bars”.
Ashley chuckled, rising to her feet, realizing that this conversation wasn’t going to take them anywhere. She needed to make sure that Harry and Y/N broke up for Valeria to pay her. Ashley was willing to go great lengths to get that money promised.
Y/N had gone to be a bit earlier than usual after cuddling Oliver to sleep in the downstairs living room. She had tried her best to wait up for Harry, but her exhaustion had gotten the best of her. She went upstairs after making sure that the lights of the foyer were on for Harry, so he wouldn’t bump into anything.
Y/N laid on her side with her hands up to her face when she felt the mattress dip and the blankets lifted. She didn’t have to open her eyes to know who it was. Harry tangled their legs and slipped his arm around her, gently tucking her warm body into his chest.
“Hi” her voice heavy with sleep as she reached down to his hand under the sheets.
“Shhh” he shushed her, feeling guilty to have woken her up. “Go back to sleep. I’ve got you” He kissed the back of her neck, inhaling her sweet scent.
It was late. It was 3AM. Harry had stayed in the office after he had kicked Ashley out of the office. He submerged himself in work and whiskey. As the events and the conversations that had taken place kept hunting his head.
Harry hadn't forgotten Ashley’s threat. He couldn’t understand the extent of Valeria’s fascination with him. She had dug deep enough into his past that she had found Oliver’s biological mother. Just so he could separate him from Y/N.
“Harry?” Y/N’s soft voice, brought him back into reality.
“Yes, lovie?” His voice cracked as he felt stressed for the safety of the people around him. He had never feared as much before. He heard her shuffle and turn to face him. Then felt her forehead against his.
“What’s bothering you?” She whispered as she pressed a hand against his cheek. “Tell me. Maybe I can help you” Harry’s heart warmed as he enjoyed the gentleness of her touch.
“Nothing. Just a bit stressed about work” Y/N remained silent yet continued caressing the back of his head. “What do you think about moving?”.
“Why would we do that?” His heart warmed, loving how she used ‘we’ instead of saying something silly like ‘it’s your house’ or ‘it’s your money’. For Harry meant that she saw a future for them.
“I just don’t feel safe anymore” He had to get them as safe as possible. The house security had been breach — God knows how many times. He wasn’t going to take any more chances. “I’m also starting to hate the decoration”. Harry added, not wanting to worry her.
“I guess the change in scenery would be nice. But don’t you think you are taking on too much?” The Italy trip was just a few days ago and Harry seemed swamp with work.
“That’s why I got people to do the work for me” He was finally starting to loosen up. The idea of them moving to a new place where Ashley or Valeria couldn’t find them — relaxed him. “You wouldn’t have to move a finger”.
“Very cocky” She laughed, “I can help. At least let me pack my stuff and Oliver’s”
“Absolutely not”
“Why? I can carry my own weight, and I am strong”. She felt useless at times, but Y/N knew that it was her own insecurities speaking for her. That same thought made her want to accept the job offer.
“It's not because I think you are weak, darlin.” In fact, he thought the complete opposite. Harry thought very highly of her, not just because of her academics, but for every single little thing that composed her personality.
“Then? Enlighten me”.
“You are just… clumsy” She gasped yet giggled at his accusations.
“That’s not true!”
“It is! I’ve seen you bang your toe almost every single day since you moved in, against the glass coffee table” Harry found it cute how she would wince and hold her breath. Y/N would always deny feeling any kind of pain when he would ask. She would put her brave face and tried her best not wince. “You can’t fool me”.
“That’s irrelevant. That doesn’t make me clumsy”.
“It’s not just that”
“Why is this suddenly a problem?!” Harry laughed, “What else have I done?”
“The amount of bruises that I find on yourself daily, doesn’t give you the slightest clue?” They both giggled and laughed. “You don’t even remember how you even got them!”
“Okay that’s it!” Y/N’s cold hands creeped up under the back of his shirt, causing Harry to instantly hiss at the sensation. “You were saying?”
“Rude” He groaned, his hands squeezing her sides. “Don’t ever change” Harry whispered to her in the darkness. “I like your clumsiness” She listened him say as they both drifted to sleep.
Frank Sinatra played though the apartment whilst Y/N swayed Oliver through the rhythm of the music. It was an early Thursday afternoon at the household. Mrs. Johnson was in the kitchen, preparing a delicious dinner by the scent that lingered in the air.
They had invited Y/N’s best friend over for dinner.
Harry still hadn’t arrived from the office.
“Would you like some wine?” Mrs. Johnson offered, as the song came to an end and another began. Patrick had arrived ten songs ago. She tried her best not to worry. It was New York City known for its hectic traffic. Although, Harry Styles wasn’t the type of man to be late.
“Please!” Patrick knew that she was nervous. Every single sound caused her to redirect her attention to the elevator doors. He loved Y/N. Patrick had no intention of making her feel embarrassed. He just hoped that Harry arrived.
“Red or white?”
“Red” Mrs. Johnson smiled before going to fetch two glasses. “She is lovely” Patrick added as Y/N finally settled down on one of the couches.
“I know. She is also sweet” Y/N tried to smile but failed.
“Oh honey! Perhaps, he forgot?” Patrick could understand that. He was a remarkably busy man.
“Harry has assistants, Patrick. They remind him of everything” She looked down at Oliver and could see him starting to doze off.
“Well! They forgot to write it down and remind him. It doesn’t matter, honey. I am simply happy to see you!” Sure — he had been excited to meet the man that had swooped the heart of his best friend, but having dinner only with her wasn’t the worth either. He barely got to see her, and let’s not forget about the beauty of the apartment and the promise of exquisite food.
“I love you” Y/N said, pressing her lips against Oliver’s head. “I’ll put him down and then you can tell me all about your latest conquests”
CHEATING!HARRY UNIVERSE: Y/N and Harry love eachother, too bad she's Liam's girlfriend. (cheating on liam, smut, fluff, angst)
THE PERFECT WIFE: Y/N is the perfect wife; she cooks, she cleans, and she lets her husband fuck her in his favourite dress. (smut, oral fem sex, fingering, dirty talk, vaginal unprotected sex, yn just wants to be perfect for jack, macho ideals because the time (50's) and the movie are based on that.) ♡
OLDER!HARRY UNIVERSE: Harry and Y/N used to play when they were kids, but now they've changed quite a bit, and he feels kind of dirty for thinking like that about someone eight years younger than him. (eight years age gap but they're both +18, harry is the CEO of pleasing, yn is a model AND a nurse, smut, angst, fluff, you know the rules) ♡
NERD!HARRY X POPULAR!Y/N: Harry'd never been with anyone, he just liked to read and play video games. Right, that's until he meets the popular girl in school. (fluff, smut, angst, virgin!harry, etc) ♡
GANG!HARRY UNIVERSE: Harry's a guns dealer who promised not to love, until he meets Y/N, the sweet restaurant owner. (fluff, angst, smut, violence, weapons, etc) ♡
SINCE FOREVER UNIVERSE: Harry and Y/N met at fifteen, and now after years of loving each other, join them at crucial moments in their relationship, both good and bad. (fluff, angst, lovers since teens au, smut) PART TWO. ♡
THE NOTEBOOK: Y/N has never seen The Notebook, and Harry can't stand it. (kinda sad, fluff, the notebook spoilers obviously)
INSTAGRAM: Noze Wayb.
INSTAGRAM: Madison Beer.
INSTAGRAM: Courtney Miller.
OVERPROTECTIVE: Harry falls in love with Jeff's best friend, but he's so scared that someone can hurt her that even he stays on the sidelines so nothing bad happens to her. (angsty?, fluff!!, happy ending, friends to lovers, harry criticizing people)
INSTAGRAM: Ester Expósito.
ONLY WANTING YOU: Y/N reads something she shouldn't about Kendall Jenner and her relationship with Harry, causing unsure thoughts to come to her head. (angst but happy ending, crying, insecure reader, kendall jenner)
INSTAGRAM: Victoria De Angelis.
INSTAGRAM: Devon Carlson.
WRONG SCRIPT: Y/N is supposed to name Harry's character Jack, but in the middle of the heated moment, she says the wrong name. (Y/N replaces florence in this one shot, so basically she plays alice, friends to lovers!!!, making out, fluff <3, smut, fem!oral sex, dwd!harry, vaginal sex, unprotected sex) ♡
FEAR BEFORE VICTORY: Harry is afraid to go on stage and looks to you for comfort. (harry crying, a little angst, this is really short and horrible, happy ending and fluff don't worry, lot!harry)
PAPER RINGS: On the day you're going to propose to Harry, you lose the ring, and you have to improvise. (fluff, fluff and more fluff, fiancee!harry at the end maybe, cursing) ♡
THE GAME(S): Y/N's country plays a football cup and she's very focused, and Harry's very horny. (foreign reader, sexual themes, oral fem sex, alcohol, harry being horny the whole one shot)
PHONOPHOBIA: Y/N is scared of loud noises, and her boyfriend... is a singer. (mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, angst, fluff, harry being an angel) ♡
CRYING IN LOVE: You love Harry so much that you burst into tears, and the cause of it is there to comfort you. (fluff, crying, italy!harry) ♡
OVER AGAIN: Harry cheated, and now he has to do everything he can to get Y/N to trust him again. (angst, mentions of cheating, fluff) FINISHED.
LEPIDOPTEROPHOBIA: Y/N is afraid of butterflies, and her boyfriend has one tattooed. (fluff) ♡
BRING BACK MANLY MEN: You have to comfort Harry after Candace Owens has insulted him for dressing up as he likes. (angst, crying, fluff at the end) ♡
GOLDEN MV: Harry is in LA, and you have to watch Golden's music video alone, getting very sentimental. (fluff and more fluff, dwd harry)
INSTAGRAM; GOLDEN: Golden's video comes out, and you couldn't be more proud. Harry decides to do something thanks to that post. (fluff)
SKINNY JEANS: Prompt 15 from my prompt list: "Your ass looks so good." (fluff)
MEDICINE (01): Singer!Y/N surprises Harry singing one of his songs on stage, and he can't help but getting a little too happy. (fluff, smut; spitting, dirty talk, protected sex, teasing)
WATERMELON SUGAR (02): After singing Medicine, Singer!Y/N decides to continue having fun with Harry. (smut; dirty talk, oral fem sex, teasing)
A/N Hi everyone! I’m back with a one shot :) I know I don’t write as often anymore but since I’m self quarantining and I’m just about finish with high school, I thought I should try and give it another go? I’m also re starting up my jewellery business so ahhh many goals in mind but no motivation ??? Okay, I hope you guys enjoy this one!!! It is definitely a slow burn with smut but part 2? I dunno!!
Y/N and her brother’s best friend Harry, has had some pent up sexual frustration for a while. Wouldn’t it be best if they just had a one and done? you know to get it out of their system ;)
*smut includes spanking, choking, male and female receives oral, harry dom but Y/N rides, magic face cream treatment for anti wrinkling results? Yes, and what else? sub space, hair pulling, gosh I forgot please read it 😁
Word Count: 6.1k // Masterlist // one and done PLAYLIST
“Don’t you think it’s a bit of a cliché to be crushing on your brother’s best friend?” Ness teases Y/N as they walk out of her house. They were just on the steps about to go on a walk around the block. It was definitely one of their favourite things to do as the sun was just about to set.
A/N: oof i can't believe im posting this fic! it's been in the making for literally the longest so its a relief that im finally done with it haha! it stretched longer than i planned but oh well!
special thanks to @fallinallincurls for helping me out in the field of ice hockey since i knwo absolutely nothing about sports and i bothered her all the time with questions so thank you for your patience Bre!
PAIRING: prince-hair!hockey-player!Harry X Reader
WARNINGS: a little bit of blood, bullying
WORD COUNT: 20.1k
masterlist
Why on Earth did you have to get a roommate who doesn’t know how to take no as an answer? You swear to all gods above, Zoe has never had to deal with rejection and not because she’s always been the best but because she just refused to take it and pushed all boundaries until she got what she wanted. Tonight it’s her mission to get you to turn your no into yes.
“Come on! You never go to parties, how are you gonna get your full college experience?” she sighs, flopping down to your bed next to you, where you’re curled up with yet another crime book, an obsession that might be a bit too much in some people’s opinion, but you like to call it a passion of yours. Your brother would beg to differ, but you don’t let that ruin something you like. After all, it is what got you figure out what you want to do in life.
“Who said I want the full college experience? I am in college so therefore I’m having an experience,” you retort, laying your book to your chest just in time to see Zoe roll her almond shaped eyes before she narrows them at you. Even pretending to be hurt and mad at you, she is still one of the most stunning girls you’ve ever met in your life.
When the two of you became roommates last year as freshmen, you were afraid she’d the type you tried to avoid at all cost in high school. The popular, everyone’s favorite girl who only cares about herself. Well, the first part is kind of true, Zoe is the kind of girl who gets most people’s attention walking across the campus, but she is definitely not the selfish monster you thought her to be, but a caring and lively bubble of endless energy who tried her best to bring you out of your shell through your first year. It was partially successful, you went to about two parties all year which was already more than what you were planning on, but she also introduced you to a lot of people and helped you find your own little circle. The two of you had a few classes together last year, but this year you both finally chose your majors which resulted in a schedule that didn’t cross anywhere, Zoe chose International Studies while you started Criminal and Social Justice, something you’ve been highly excited about all summer.
Even though you were lucky enough to stay together after moving into another residence hall this year, Zoe now feels like it’s her special task to get you out of the room and your own little room even more since she can’t see you for most of the day usually, but you’re not sure how you feel about that mission of hers.
“It’s gonna be fun! We are not freshmen anymore, we’ll be like the cool kids finally!” she tries again, but you’re not giving in.
“Z, you are already a cool kid and I’m not trying to be one. I don’t see the use of it for me.”
“Okay,” she huffs raising her eyebrows at you. “I didn’t mean to tell you, but this is my last chance of changing your mind. There is an ulterior reason why I want to be there.”
“I’m listening,” you mumble, narrowing your eyes at her in suspicion.
“So, at the end of last year, remember when I went to the party with Callie and Mike?”
“Distantly, but yes.”
“Well, I kinda hooked up with…” She looks away, a soft blush painting her face and now you’re dying to know who got her this nervous.
“Just spit it out!”
“I hooked up with Niall Horan!”
Your eyes widen and your mouth opens before you close it, not knowing what to say. Niall Horan is the captain of Boston College’s men’s hockey team the Eagles, notorious womanizer and in your opinion, a straight up asshole.
Well, if you’re being honest every sport obsessed jock is an asshole for you and though judging a book by its cover is not a nice thing to do, you just can’t help it, not after what happened to you in high school.
Zoe knows your opinion about guys on any of the school’s sport teams, probably that’s why she never told you about Niall, she guessed right that you’d have quite a few issues with her little adventure. But you can’t be mad at her for doing something you would never, it’s her life and her choices, however you’re still not sure what it has got to do with tonight.
“Okay, so that’s one more reason to stay away from tonight’s party,” you tell her, but she sighs.
“We kinda kept in touch through the summer, which was a miracle since he went home to his family in Ireland, but we texted a lot and he even FaceTimed me two times! I was hoping tonight would bring a little more and we could… I don’t know, make it official.”
You can tell how nervous she is about this guy and that she wants it to end well. Zoe broke up with her longtime high school boyfriend after graduation and she hasn’t really found anyone who interested her that much, but it seems like the hockey team’s captain was the person she’s been waiting for all along. You wish it was some nice guy from the robotics club or something. You have quite a few doubts about this Niall guy.
“But why do I need for that?” you ask the most important question. It’s one thing that you’re not a fan of Zoe getting together with a hockey player, but what role do you have in all of it?
“I need you to be there and not let me go crazy!” she sighs desperately. “I really like him and I really don’t want to make a fool out of myself. I need you to be my rational side.”
“You’re a smart girl, Zoe. You don’t need me to babysit you.”
“But I do! Please, I’ll do all your laundry for the rest of the semester, just please come with me!” She is begging as if her life depended on your attendance. It’s really not your cup of tea, but when you look at your desperate friend, you realize you won’t be able to say no.
So a few hours later you are walking up the stairs to some frat house, the music is blasting inside and people are lingering outside, you can only imagine how crowded it is on the other side of the door.
Zoe keeps a firm hold on your hand as she pulls you after her, finding a group of people you both know pretty soon. You all attended Sociology first semester, so you greet each other like old buddies.
Zoe fetches the two of you each a drink and while you stand in a small circle, trying to talk over the music and the noise, you notice how she isn’t even paying attention, only looking around cautiously, probably searching for a particular Irish hockey player.
“Don’t look so desperate,” you hiss at her, which causes her to look down at her feet with a soft blush on her cheeks. For a moment you feel bad for being so harsh on her. It’s not like she can choose who she likes and if it happens to be a hockey player, you can’t give her a hard time for it. You can only hope she won’t end up like you once did.
After finishing your first drink you offer to grab the second and Zoe agrees, saying that she needs the liquid courage for when Niall arrives. You push your way into the kitchen and mix the both of you a vodka orange, the same thing Zoe made you earlier and head back to your little bunch. Slaloming between the people on your own you don’t get stopped for a few words or to take shots, you barely know anyone and it’s honestly fine by you. You never really enjoyed attention that much, it brought you way too much anxiety. Zoe is the opposite, she gets noticed all the time and whenever you are with her you always get stopped, people seek her presence and you don’t blame them, she is amazing. You could easily be jealous of her, but you decided to put your energy into positive things so you’re more happy than mad about her success.
Handing Zoe her drink you zone out for a bit and your attention is grabbed by Zoe when her hand smacks your arm. You cautiously look around as she sucks her breath in and that’s when you see the guys she’s been waiting for all night walk in.
Niall is the first one, loud and vibrant, saying hi to basically everyone that gets in his way as he walks into the house. Then comes Louis, he is a senior this year and he seems a lot calmer and less all over the place than Niall, though you’ve heard a thing or two about him as well. Then a few more guys who are also definitely on the team, because they have the same jacket as the first two, and last in the line comes Harry Styles.
You don’t know much about him, just that he is a promising defense player, as a freshman last year he was on the ice from the beginning of their very first game in the season, which is a big deal. Coach Brahms is known to make the new players work for their spot on the ice, but Harry Styles broke that habit of his. Now he is a sophomore and everyone is talking about how he is going to be the backbone of the team this season. You know all of this because your brother is a big fan, in fact, he used to play on the school’s team. He has graduated two years ago but he still likes to watch their games and be up-to-date with the news. You remember him telling you about Harry last year, how satisfied he was with his game.
“I wish I could’ve played with him!” he sighed longingly, but you couldn’t understand his enthusiasm.
From the outside Harry didn’t seem too friendly. You barely saw him talk to anyone outside of his teammates, sometimes he has this pretty intimidating look on his face as if he was silently judging everyone around him and he already had a bad point at you by being a hockey player. You just know he isn’t someone you should be around.
“Okay, how do I look?” Zoe pulls you back from your thoughts as she turns to face you for reassurance about her look.
“Great, but don’t talk his ears off, okay?” you tell her, fixing a strand of hair before giving her a thumbs up.
“You need to come with me,” she demands, gripping your wrist tight.
“You don’t need me there,” you shake your head in protest.
“But I do, come on!”
Zoe yanks you after her, not even caring that you said no. Typical, as always. The guys are headed into the kitchen so of course, the two of you are following. You really don’t want to be here right now, but Zoe wouldn’t let go of you, chaining you to herself.
Niall is opening up a can of beer for himself when he spots Zoe and his face lights up at the sight of her. You have to give it to them, it’s kind of cute, but that doesn’t change much about your opinion.
“Zoe! Hi!” he greets your friend happily and she finally lets go of you, just so she can return the hug he envelopes her into.
“Hey, it’s good to see you! How are you?” The two of them get into a little chit-chat while you’re standing near, then Zoe turns to you and pulls you closer, into their little circle. “This is my roommate, Y/N. Y/N, this is Niall.”
“Hi,” you smile at him shortly, not willing to hold up a conversation with him.
“Hey, it’s nice to meet you. Z told me a lot about you.”
Oh, so at least he remembers what they talk about. That’s a somewhat good start. He still has a long way to go.
After some usual schmoozing Niall leans closer to Zoe’s ear and you see her eyes lighting up before she turns to you and you already know what’s about to come.
“Hey, is it okay if I have a few words with Niall outside? Or do you want me to stay with you?”
The last question is not rhetorical, you know Zoe would blow Niall off and stick to you if you asked, but you’re not trying to ruin her chances even though you really don’t want to be left alone at a party.
“Sure, I’ll be fine,” you assure her.
“Are you sure?”
“Zoe, just go, okay? I’ll go back to Francesca and the others,” you nod your head towards the people you stood when you first arrived.
“Alright, I’ll come and find you when we are done. Text me if something happens!” she tells you, giving you a quick hug before you watch her walk away, Niall right behind her, keeping a hand on her waist casually.
Chewing on your bottom lip you sigh as you’re left alone and when you look around you don’t see Francesca or any other people you know either. Left alone in a party you didn’t even want to attend now you have to linger around while Zoe possibly gets together a hockey player, the kind you want to avoid from the furthest possible… what a great night!
Finishing your drink you quickly refill your cup and then go on a mission to find a bathroom in this packed frat house. Making your way upstairs you easily spot the room you’re looking for, two girls already waiting in line, so you just quietly join them. They sound pretty plastered, talking about some guys that invited them over to their place and you push down a grimace at how easily they are saying yes to men they literally just met. The two girls go inside together once the bathroom empties, so you wait alone now and when the stumble out a few minutes later you gladly lock yourself inside, having a breather from all the impulses waiting for you outside.
After finishing your business you sprinkle some cold water into your face, the heat in the house is rising with each arriving guest and you really hate sweating your ass off, but you don’t have much of a choice. Maybe you can look around outside, someone you know might pop up so you wouldn’t have to walk around alone. You grab your cup from the sink where you placed upon arriving and with a deep sigh you reach for the doorknob and open it. As you’re about to step out, you straight up mash against someone, a hard chest meeting with you, your drink spilling all over your black top and for a moment you sing hallelujah for changing from that white shirt you originally wanted to wear.
“Holy shit, I’m sorry!” A deep voice with a British accent speaks up as you look down at your soaked shirt. Letting out a sigh you clench your jaw before glancing up and seeing none other than Harry Styles, staring down at your chest.
“Great, thanks,” you mumble, turning back into the bathroom to dry yourself off a bit, though you know the orange juice will leave it sticky either way. You expect him to just disappear, not wanting to deal with the casualties of his actions, but Harry lingers in the bathroom door, not sure what to do or say. Glancing at him you arch an eyebrow at him questioningly. “What? Staring doesn’t help the situation,” you snap at him, your dislike coming off maybe a bit too harsh, but you’ve had enough for tonight.
“How can I help?” he asks, taking a tiny step closer, but still keeping his distance. “You want me to get you another shirt? I know some of the guys here, I could—“
“No need for that. Just go back to the party and ruin someone else’s night instead of mine.”
You’re not this bitter. This isn’t your trait, but you were dragged here against your will, Zoe left you alone and now your shirt smells like vodka orange. There’s a reason why you don’t like parties and it’s because somehow they always end up horrendous on your part.
“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t see you coming…”
“Surely,” you grumble, peeking at him once again. He stands tall above you, wearing a plain white shirt that has a few dots of your drink on it as well but he doesn’t seem bothered. His black skinny jeans are tighter than anything you own, paired with some trainers, his chocolate curls are messily bouncing around his face. He is definitely growing them out, they’ve gotten a lot longer during the summer compared to the hairstyle he sported last year from what you remember seeing him on campus here and there.
You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t handsome with his dreamy green eyes and pink lips, you can totally see why girls were into him, though out of the whole hockey team, you’ve heard the least about his dating life from people. Absolutely nothing, to be precise.
Throwing the towel to the side that you used to soak up some of the liquid from your chest you just grab your now almost fully empty cup and head out, but Harry stops you.
“Wait, I really am sorry. Is there anything I can do to make up for it?”
“No thanks. Save your pretty boy attitude to the ladies downstairs, I’m not interested,” you simply reply and then walk away before he could stop you for a second time.
“Where have you been?!” Zoe snaps when the two of you finally run into each other a little later. You’ve spent some time with a girl you know from philosophy class last year and you headed outside for some fresh air when you finally found your roommate.
“Where have I been? I’ve been around all along. What’s up with you?” you ask and the moment you see her blushing and smiling you know things went well with Niall.
“We are officially dating. We’re not a couple but he specifically said that he is not gonna go out with someone else while we are figuring things out.”
“Oh, that sounds good!” you say and actually mean it. At least he is not trying to get Zoe into a bigamous mess where he fucks every other women at the same time.
“Yes! I’m so happy, I feel like this can actually work.” Her eyes move down to your chest and though it’s not soaking wet anymore, the stain is still kind of visible. “What happened to you?”
“Just… bumped into someone and spilled my drink. No big deal.”
“Alrighty,” she shrugs. “Come on, let’s find some friends!” she beams and linking her arm with yours she quickly pulls you after her.
Unlike you, it doesn’t take Zoe long to find people she knows. The two of you are in the corner of the living room with a few girls Zoe has classes with this semester, talking about summer and what this school year has for everyone. Now that Zoe is back your anxiety eases a bit, not having to linger around alone has its perks obviously.
Moving to the kitchen to get your next and probably last drink you mentally groan when you spot Niall and his teammates, unlike Zoe who immediately brightens up seeing her man, if you can say that. On top of all that, Harry is with them as well, standing leant against the edge of the countertop, a red cup on his right hand as he mostly just observes the conversations happening around him.
“Hey there! How are you ladies enjoying the party?” Niall grins and curls an arm around Zoe’s shoulders, earning her quite a few jealous glares from girls around who are probably crushing hard on the player.
“It’s great!” Zoe beams and you decide to leave it at that.
Niall’s eyes fall on you and then at Harry who is weirdly eyeing you before looking away which already makes you want to leave this conversation already, but then you see Niall lean closer and saying something to him to which Harry just growls and bumps his shoulder against his. The way Niall peeks at you after that lets you know that it had something to do with you and that makes your blood boiling.
Your hatred towards athletes, especially football or hockey players always gets proven to be valid. They are called players for a reason but in your opinion it has nothing to do with sports. All your life men like Niall and Harry made you miserable for absolutely no reason because they think that the world is lying in front of their feet just because they are considered good in a sport. When you were younger you gave them all the benefit of the doubt, but one asshole of a player turned it all around and rid you of all your trust in anyone who is just the slightest bit like him.
Not quite up to be talked about while you’re very much present, you decide tonight must come to an end for you. Leaning closer to Zoe you try to speak so only she can hear it.
“I’m gonna head home, but stay if you want.”
“What?” she gasps with sad eyes. “No, stay a little longer!”
“I’m tired. Just wanna go back to the dorm,” you shrug, hoping this is going to be one of the rare occasions she takes no as an answer.
“Are you alright? Do you want me to wait for a taxi with you?” she offers and it’s sweet that she is still concerned about you when she could just easily ditch you. You can’t blame her for you not enjoying the party, she tried her best to contribute to you having a good time.
“No, it’s alright.”
“Do you need a ride?” Niall chimes in, putting together the pieces about what you two are talking about. “Harry could drive you home,” he offers with a smirk, nodding towards his friend whose head immediately snaps up at the mentioning of his name, his eyes meeting your frown.
“No thanks, I’m fine,” you simply turn it down. “I’ll see you back at the dorm,” you tell Zoe before walking away, leaving the awkward situation behind you.
From what you saw, it’s been entirely clear that Harry Styles is no different from the athletes you’re trying to stay away from. It’s a good thing your circles don’t meet too often, especially since this was the first and probably last party of the semester you attended.
🏒🏒🏒
It sounds nerdy, but you’ve been excited to start this new semester, all because you finally chose your major. You ended up with Criminal and Social Justice after a long and deliberate process of deciding what you’d like to study and you can proudly say that you’re satisfied with your choice. What got you the most excited is your criminology class you were able to take, held by Professor Rutherford, one of the best professors at Boston College from what you’ve heard.
After a light Monday, when you only had two classes, nothing extravagant, you wake up buzzing on Tuesday, knowing that you can finally dive into the depths of criminology, something that always amazed and interested you.
Zoe is barely up when you leave, but she is already texting from under her fluffy blankets, the two of you agree to get something for dinner together on your way back to Roncalli residence hall, your dorm, since you both finish around the same time, and with that you’re out the door. Making a small trip to the café near the dorm, you head to your class with a steaming black coffee and endless excitement about today’s class.
There are still about ten minutes until nine when you arrive, but the room is almost entirely filled. Walking up next to the rows, you spot that somewhere in the middle, there are two empty seats at the end of one of the rows, so you decide to take that. Sitting into one of them and then putting your bag to the other as you dig up your notebook and pen along with your phone.
You shoot a quick text to Zoe to check if she didn’t fall back asleep, but she replies right away with a mirror selfie as she is washing her teeth in one of the communal bathrooms on your floor. Then you’re just aimlessly scrolling through Instagram and the rest of the minutes pass by quick.
Professor Rutherford arrives and walks up to the podium, the room right away quiets down even though he hasn’t even started talking. You assume everyone else is just as excited for this class as you are. He grabs a stack of paper from his oldschool briefcase and puts his glasses on, making him look like a cute grandpa, but you know more about him than to underestimate him. Marlon Rutherford was the best criminal detective at the Boston Police for almost three decades before he started teaching, first only at the academy, but then he was somehow lured to Boston College and he has been teaching Criminology and Criminal Psychology for about ten years now. He was good at what he was doing and he is now happy to pass on everything he knows to the next generations.
Before Professor Rutherford could start, the door opens and two more students arrive, but you’re not paying much attention as you’re scribbling the date onto the first page of your notebook. But when a figure stops right beside you, your attention is forced away from in front of you.
Standing there a little hunched is none other than Harry Styles, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face.
“Can I please… take this seat?” he whispers, pointing to the seat where your bag is and as you glance around you see that there are no other seats left anywhere near, only in the middle of the row and he obviously doesn’t want to crawl in there.
“Sure,” you mumble, grabbing your bag and dropping it under your seat, turning back to your notebook just as the professor starts speaking.
Harry’s sudden arrival pushes you out of your comfort in a second, making you very aware that he is sitting right beside you. He is not staring, not trying to talk to you, just sits there with an old, beaten up notebook and pen, listening to what the professor is saying, doing what you should do, but you’re too busy with the hockey player by your side.
Forcing yourself to look forward and focus on what’s important, you manage to shut his presence out for a whole… five minutes, probably. Then you see him peeking at you at for some dumb and irritating reason your cheeks heat up just by his look.
“Hey, I’m sorry for what happened at the party,” he then whispers over to you, leaning just a tad bit closer and it turns you into stone when his bicep presses against your forearm for a few seconds.
“S’okay,” you mumble, keeping your gaze down, but you just know he is still looking at you, while playing with his pen between his fingers. What was Professor Rutherford just saying?!
“I-it was my fault.”
“Sure it was.” It slips out before you could even stop yourself, but it instantly heats up your neck and ears. As you peek to the side you see a small smile on Harry’s lips before you glue your eyes to the professor at the front of the room.
Harry is just about to speak up again, but then the professor claps and it makes you both jump a little, actually paying attention to what he is saying.
“And so what you can expect for the rest of the semester! We are gonna make it an extremely exciting one! We are gonna be working in pairs and every pair will have to study a famous case of a crime that’ll be assigned to them. We’ll learn about the most important factors in cases and you’ll have to work along those lines, analyzing what went down during the investigations. The outcome will be a five thousand words long co-written essay!”
The students start rumbling, already looking for their pairs and your stomach drops to the floor, since you don’t know anyone in this class, so how are you going to find a partner?
“Before any of you gets too excited, you don’t get to decide who your partner is,” Professor Rutherford announces and the talking just increases in the room. “Silence, please!” Slowly, the noises die down and everyone turns back to the professor who is patiently waiting. “Every second person from this side of the room…” he started, pointing at the side where you were also sitting, so that meant you would be a second person. “Look to your right!”
Your eyes instantly snap over to Harry and your lips part as you realize where this is about to head. Harry looks back at you and then down to the professor who then speaks up again with a small smile under his growing mustache.
“Please, say hello to your partner!”
Harry Styles is going to be your partner for your criminology class for the rest of the semester. Months of working is ahead of the two of you and just the thought makes your stomach jump up and down. Seemingly Harry is just as shocked and surprised as you are and what’s that you see in his green irises? Nervousness? Anxiety? Whatever it is, he seems to swallow it down before he looks at you with an unsure smile.
“Well, I guess we are now partners in crime.”
🏒🏒🏒
Coach Simmons blows his whistle, stopping the ongoing game the boys have been playing for the past twenty minutes. They all stop what they are doing, sliding over to the man at the edge of the ice, breathing heavily under their protective gear. Helmets are coming off as the team waits for the coach to say something. In their skates, they are all taller and definitely stronger than the man in his fifties who is standing in his sneakers on the ice, yet they still respect him as if he could beat them all up with just one hand.
“It wasn’t as bad as I expected for the first time after summer, but you all need to get your shit together. Stop thinking too much about yourself and watch out for your team mates. This is a team game, alright?”
The boys all nod as Coach Simmons gives some personal feedback to some of them.
“And Styles?” Harry’s head snaps up, chewing on his bottom lip as he waits for the man to continue. “Wake the fuck up, you were like a zombie.”
“Sorry, coach,” he mumbles back, kicking some crushed ice with his skate.
“Okay, I’ll see you soon. Don’t do anything stupid,” Simmons dismisses the team and they all leave the ice, heading into the changing room.
“Simmons was right, what’s up with you?” Niall waits for Harry who is almost the last one to leave the ice and the two of them walk back side by side.
“Nothing, I just need to get back to the groove, that’s all.”
“Bullshit. You said you’ve been dying to get back on the ice and now you seemed like you weren’t even here in your head.”
Harry doesn’t answer, just shrugs his shoulders as they enter the changing room, getting rid of their skates right away, but Niall doesn’t leave it at that.
“As your captain, I need to know what’s on that pretty curly head of yours, big boy!” He teases him and though Harry smiles shortly, it disappears fast and it tells a lot to his friend. “Something happened?”
“It’s just… You know that girl from the party?” he starts with a sigh after getting rid of his underclothes, now only standing in his pants. Niall starts undressing too, just like the rest of the team, but they pay no attention to their conversation.
“There were a lot of girls, Harry. You have to be more specific,” Niall snorts.
“The one I accidentally bumped into and her drink spilled to her shirt,” he answers, blushing even at the thought of the incident.
“Oh! Zoe’s roommate, right?”
“Y-yeah.”
“What about her? Wait, did you ask her out? Did you finally grow a pair and went after a girl?” Niall gasps dramatically before he starts laughing, but Harry just rolls his eyes.
“We are paired for the semester for our criminology class,” he answers instead, leaving Niall’s teasing unnoticed.
“That’s great, right? You’re gonna have to spend time together to work on stuff, yeah?”
“Apparently, but she didn’t seem thrilled to be paired with me,” he growls under his breath. They both have gotten rid of their clothes so now they head to the showers. In a row, there are a total of five showers, offering not much of covering once someone is inside, but they have gotten used to seeing each other the way they entered this world.
Harry still remembers when he switched teams in high school and at the new place, they had a shower similar to the one at college and he wasn’t used to baring it all, his previous place offered showers with floor to ceiling curtains. It took him a good six months to get himself over the fact that he was gonna be seeing his team mates without clothes quite often. Now he doesn’t even think about it as he steps under the warm water, carrying the conversation on with Niall as they stand next to each other, basically fully seeing each other’s business.
“Do you want me to ask Zoe why she hates you?” Niall offers and Harry grimaces at his words.
“You think she hates me? We barely even know each other.”
“Dunno, but you did spill her drink on her at a party. Maybe she took is harder than you thought.”
“I literally apologized like ten times already. Even did so in class, but she didn’t seem to be fazed at all,” Harry muses, thinking back at his exchange of words with you from earlier.
“Okay, then maybe you did something against her before that and you just don’t know about it. Girls remember the craziest stuff,” Niall chuckles as if he was such an expert in women.
Harry knows that his friend is known to be a party animal and a ladies favorite and Niall obviously doesn’t scare away from a little flirt, but what others don’t see is that he is not that big of a player people tend to make him be. If he is serious about someone, he’ll be one hundred percent faithful to that person and now he has eyes only for Zoe.
Harry doesn’t realize he has zoned out, just standing under the water, thinking about the possibility that he has met you before, but he can’t think of any other occasion.
“Hey,” Niall catches his attention. “You like her?” he asks, and Harry notices how the playfulness is gone from his words, he has transformed into the caring friend Harry could count on anytime.
“I mean, as much as you can like someone you don’t really know,” he mumbles, keeping his eyes down as he feels his cheeks blushing.
Dating is a field for Harry he is not entirely comfortable with. Unlike many assume, he is not that outgoing and social like his teammates, making friends everywhere they go. Growing up he was always the shy kid, he had to be nagged to participate in activities that required talking to more than just two people. It was one of the main reasons why he started playing hockey, his mother thought it would help him open up and ease his social anxiety and though it did wonders to him, just like she expected, it couldn’t change his entire personality.
He had only dated one girl in high school and even before asking her out, he needed six entire months to muster up the courage and do so. He always envied guys his age that could just easily flirt and pick up girls at parties or even just a coffee shop. Anytime he sees a girl he finds pretty, his brain goes blank and he starts stuttering, so most of the time he keeps quiet and doesn’t even try. He is not a man of many words, that is for sure.
“Alright, then just… try to get on her good side. I’ll talk to Zoe, ask her if she knows anything,” Niall offers.
“Okay, but please be subtle. I don’t need Zoe to go and tell Y/N that I’ve been stalking her or something.”
“Subtle is my middle name, baby,” Niall laughs, his cheeky side coming back in an instant.
“No, it’s James,” Harry rolls his eyes before shutting the water off and walking out of the shower.
🏒🏒🏒
It’s another Friday and another attempt from Zoe to drag you to a party. Unfortunately, you can’t say no this time, because you owe her one after you left your wallet at home on your busiest day when you didn’t have time to go back to the dormitory. She was noble enough to make a detour to your room, grab it for you and bring it across campus between two of your classes. She gave it to you under one condition, though; made you promise you’d come to the next party with her.
Now you are sitting on your bed, dressed in a black dress Zoe lent it to you for the night, paired with your black Converse and a denim jacket, while your roommate is finishing up her last touches on her makeup.
“Whose party is this gonna be, again?”
“Uh, it’s Tanner’s birthday. He is on the Hockey team.”
You take a deep breath before you could open your mouth to question her why she hasn’t shared this information. Obviously, this was her plan all along, because she knew if you figured out who is hosting it, you’d have found a way to get yourself out of it. You definitely don’t want to spend another evening surrounded by hockey players and other assholes. You’ve had enough of all that last time.
The memory of Harry running into you pops into your head, and then when you found out you two would be paired for the rest of the semester for your criminology class. It’s been two weeks since that happened, Harry sat next to you silently at every class since then and when you were assigned to what case you’d have to work on, he asked for your number so you can easily agree on the time when you start working on it. You still have plenty of time, but you definitely don’t want to leave it to the last minute, so very soon you’ll have to spend more time with him.
It’s been a pleasant surprise that he didn’t try to make small talks with you, just sat there, only said hello and goodbye before and after class, but other than that he let you be completely. You figured he would try to charm his way with you, chat you up and expect you to fall to your knees for him, just how you always imagine athletes act, but it hasn’t been the case at all.
The thought of seeing him out of the lecture hall brings you an unfamiliar feeling in your stomach, but you push it down quickly, ignoring it as much as you can.
Once Zoe is all done, you call a taxi, not feeling like walking thirty minutes off campus. This Tanner guy apparently lives with a bunch of other players from the team in a house near school, so you feel like it’s gonna be just like another frat party again.
Arriving at the house, you’re slightly relieved that it doesn’t seem as wild as the one you were dragged to last time, though the music is blasting here as well, a few lingering people on the front porch and you can see more inside through the windows.
“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna disappear this time,” Zoe swears to you, linking her arm with yours as you make your way inside.
The view is what you were expecting, a lot of people drinking, talking and dancing, through the open backdoor you can see a beerpong table out in the back, the small kitchen island is filled with all kinds of drinks, red solo cups everywhere.
Zoe spots Niall right away and she pushes her way through the people, pulling you after her until she finally reaches him in the back of the living room, greeting him with a short kiss. Despite the fact that they are not officially an item just yet, Niall doesn’t seem to mind it, in fact, he circles an arm around her waist and pulls her in gladly, gifting her with a smile once she leans back. It’s almost kind of cute. Almost, because you still don’t trust athletes.
“Can I get you girls something to drink?” he asks, eyes switching between you and Zoe.
“That would be great, thank you!” she beams and Niall is already off to get the two of you something. When he returns, he hands you a cup and judging from the smell of it, it’s probably vodka and energy drink. Not quite what you wanted, but it’ll be fine to start the evening off.
For your surprise, you run into a few familiar faces, two guys you had a few classes together last semester, so you get into a conversation of your own while Zoe stays by Niall’s side, but you’re still only about two feet away from each other.
A second drink follows your first one, Zoe joins the conversation and then new people arrive and you find yourself enjoying being with new people and ones you already know. For some reason, you don’t actually dread being here and you wonder if you’d like parties more if you just loosened up a bit.
However as good as it starts, it soon takes a bitter turn. This guy named Elijah joins your little circle out of somewhere, you’re not even sure if anyone knows him, but he clearly is interested in you. He tries to strike up a conversation between the two of you, but you’re not in the mood and he isn’t even your type. At first you try to hint that the flirting is useless, but he doesn’t seem to read the signs. Then you somehow navigate your way so you have a person between you and him, but he keeps coming after you, asking you stupid questions, trying to get to know you. Zoe is a bit busy with Niall, sitting on the couch behind you and you don’t want to bother her, you can handle the situation on your own.
Excusing yourself from the group, you head upstairs to look for the bathroom, hoping he doesn’t want to follow you there, but oh boy were you wrong. Because right as you reach the top of the stairs and you glance over your shoulder, you see him nearing the stairs as well, clearly with the intention of following you.
“Fuck,” you mumble under your breath and you rush down the hallway, looking for a place to hide, but then you hear his voice coming from way too close for your liking and in a panicked mode you open the nearest door and step into the room, shutting the door closed before Elijah could see where you went.
You hear his footsteps outside the door and even his voice as he asks someone if they saw you, but luckily, they are oblivious to who he is looking for. Waiting a couple moments you hold your breath until you think that he is finally gone. Only then you realize that you’ve walked straight into someone’s room, because it’s definitely not a bathroom. And with your hidden sixth sense, you just know that someone else is there too.
As you slowly turn around you expect many things; a drunk guy passed out on a bed, a naked couple in the middle of pleasing each other or a group of girls who’ll scream your head off for barging in. But instead of any of these, you find someone you weren’t exactly expecting to: Harry Styles.
He is sitting in the middle of the bed, his back propped up against the headboard, a book in his hands, eyes widened as he stares back at you, clearly surprised at your arrival. You allow yourself a quick look around, the room is clearly occupied by a male, but there are a surprising amount of books lined up on the shelves, a pile of clothes in the far corner and a big sports bag near the door, a pair of ice-skates right next to it. You’re about ninety percent sure that this is Harry’s room, judging from the way he just casually reads on the bed, you wouldn’t think he just chose a random place for it.
“I—uhh, sorry for… Sorry for barging in, I was just trying to… find a-a bathroom,” you explain with zero confidence, as he just sits there, staring back at you. For a few long moments you think that he won’t even say a thing, but then he closes the book and pushes himself up.
“I have one, if you want to use it,” he tells you, nodding towards the door that’s beside his desk, probably leading to a bathroom.
“That would be… That would be amazing, thank you,” you nod.
“All yours,” he quietly nods and you rush over to the door, get inside and close the door, running away from his curious eyes.
You don’t even need to use the bathroom that badly, but since you’re already here, you do your business and take a couple of seconds to pull yourself together. It’s uncertain why you feel so nervous around him all of a sudden, but it’s probably because you feel like you’ve just invaded his privacy, but he also got you curious why he is hurled up in his room in the middle of a party in his own home?!
Walking out of the bathroom you find him over at his dresser, throwing clothes into the top drawer, as if he is trying to quickly clean the place up now that you’re here, even though it’s not that messy, you’ve seen way worse.
You stop at the door as you step back into the room, your eyes moving over to the door of the room and you think about how you definitely don’t want to go out, Elijah is probably still looking for you and you just can’t tolerate him any longer.
“Are you really in here, reading while a party is right outside your room?” you ask, nodding towards the book he left on the bed.
“I wasn’t really in the mood to party,” he shrugs, closing the drawer as he watches you wander around the room as if you were invited to check it out. You’re just hoping he won’t ask you to leave.
“What were you reading?” you curiously eye the book that is now lying on his bed with the cover facing down. You walk over to the bed and sit on the edge, but don’t reach for the book as he joins you, sitting next to you before grabbing the book. He shows you the cover and you read the title: The Big Sleep.
“It’s a crime novel, right?” you ask. You’ve heard about it before, but you never had the chance to read it yourself.
“Yeah. My sister actually recommended it.”
“How is it?”
“It’s good, there’s a lot going on,” he smiles gently, mindlessly flipping through the pages before he puts it to his little nightstand that has a lamp and a few rings on it. “I can lend it to you when I’m done if you want,” he offers and your eyebrows rise at the nice offer.
“Oh, yeah. That would be great, thank you,” you nod.
Harry runs a hand through his hair and it catches your attention, gazing over his features while he is looking around in his room, clearly a bit lost about what he should do or say. He looks so different now, a lot more reserved, not like any of his friends from the team. Only now you’re noticing that he is lacking the kind of confidence you see in Niall, for example. He is fidgeting with the sheets on his bed, eyes avoiding to look straight at you, this is all so new and surprising compared to the picture you had of him in your mind.
“So… You don’t want to go back to the party?” he asks, clearing his throat, his eyes finally meeting yours.
“Oh, um…” You think about having to see Elijah again and even just the thought makes you grimace.
“Did something happen?”
“No, I just… Well…”
“Someone hurt you?” Harry asks, clearly worried about you, which is also quite odd.
“No, Just this guy kept coming after me and I was feeling uncomfortable, and… yeah.”
Harry stares back at you, the gears turning in his head as he figures out what it’s really about, and he puts the pieces together.
“Do you… Do you want to maybe start working on the case for criminology?”
In the middle of a party with drunk college kids and so much booze, Harry Styles didn’t only choose to stay in his room and read, but now he is inviting you to stay in his room because you’re trying to hide from an annoying guy. What a surprising turn of events.
You end up staying, though as soon as you started digging up sources, you ended up watching true crime videos on YouTube. The two of you got one of the biggest cases assigned for your project, the disappearance of Madeleine McCann and obviously, the internet is filled with theory videos and articles, documentaries about the case.
Lying comfortably on his bed with his laptop between you, it’s probably the millionth video you’re watching, talking about the behavior of the parents and the evidence that point at them being guilty. The party downstairs is long forgotten, you’re deep in discussion about the evidence and techniques used during the investigation.
“Hey, we should also watch that documentary about the case on Netflix!” you offer, remembering you’ve seen it pop up on your feed.
“Oh, that’s a great idea,” he nods eagerly, already pulling up his own Netflix, searching up the series to add to his list. You’re just about to suggest to start watching it now, when there’s a knock on the door and you both sit up, remembering that you’re not the only ones in the house.
Without waiting for a response, the door opens and Niall walks in, seemingly very much enjoying himself, but he stops in his tracks upon seeing the two of you sitting on the bed.
“Oh shit, I didn’t know you had a guest!” he exclaims, holding his hands up, his eyes switching between you and Harry.
“Niall, this is—“
“Don’t have to explain,” he winks and you feel your stomach drop. The judgment is making you sick and you fight hard not to think back to it when you were targeted in high school.
“No, we were just watching videos for criminology, nothing—“
“It’s all good!” Niall keeps interrupting Harry and suddenly, you can’t breathe. You need to get out of this room, away from Harry before anyone else sees the two of you. What were you thinking? They are all the same, like Dax and his asshole crew in high school.
“Niall, stop!” Harry growls as you climb off the bed, both guys averting their attention to your hurried movements. “Hey, Y/N, you don’t want to stay?” Harry asks softly and you shake your head.
“I need to get out of here,” you mumble, avoiding to look at either of them as you rush to the door. You need to push Niall aside to get out and though you hear Harry jumping off the bed as well, you don’t stop and don’t look back.
The two boys are left puzzled, Harry jolts after you, but Niall stops him.
“Did I say something?” he asks, the playfulness long gone from his tone.
“I know as much as you do,” Harry answers, before running after you.
The house got packed since you’ve disappeared upstairs and you need to push your way through the people to move ahead. Someone calls your name, the voice sounds like Harry’s, but you don’t stop, you need to get out. Unfortunately, you run right into someone and when the person turns around you realize that it’s Elijah.
“Hey! There you are!” he cheers, clearly drunk.
“Fuck,” you mumble and try to move away from him, but his arm falls around you, pulling you to his side.
“I’ve been looking for you!” he slurs, his breath is stinking from the alcohol. Your panic is rising with each second spent pressed up against his side.
“Yeah, I just… Can you please…”
“Come and play beerpont with us!” He tries to drag you outside and you make another attempt to get out of his hold with not much luck, he is sticking to you like glue. Right until a tall figure appears right in front of him.
“Hey man. What’s going on?” Harry asks, his eyes falling on Elijah’s arm around you and then he sees your miserable face.
“Just gonna bring my Y/N to play some beerpong!” Elijah tries to walk past Harry, but he doesn’t let him, placing a hand to his chest.
“Yeah, I think you had enough to drink and Y/N doesn’t seem like she wants to play.”
Elijah looks at you through his glassy eyes and you bet he sees at least two of you. Then he turns back to Harry with a puzzled look.
“You know her?” he simply asks, his words melting into one big mess.
“Yes, I do. Why don’t you just go and find Tanner?” he suggests randomly and it seems like it easily takes Elijah’s attention away from you. His arm falls from around you and it’s a tiny relief, but you still want to get out of here.
“Tanner! Yo!” Elijah calls out, disappearing in the crowd and you’re left with Harry again. He softly grabs your hand, pulling you after him right towards the front door. He doesn’t say a word, but you follow him blindly, his hold on your hand almost comforting. Then you finally get out of the house and it feels like you can breathe again.
“Are you alright?” Harry softly asks as the two of you stand at the corner of the house, only a handful of people lingering around, everyone else is squeezed together inside.
“I just want to go home,” you whimper, trying your hardest to keep your shit together.
“I’ll drive you home,” he offers and your eyes snap up to him. At first you want to protest saying that he has drunk, but then you realize he wasn’t even downstairs, spent most of the evening with you watching videos about your case. Normally you wouldn’t accept the ride, but this is your fastest route home right now, so at last you nod and follow him to his jeep that’s parked on the driveway.
Neither of you talk on the way back to the campus, he is the first one to break the silence just to ask which dormitory you’re living in. The neighborhood is kinda dead, after all it’s Friday night, most students are out somewhere in the city, or at a frat or sorority house, drinking the cheap booze. When Harry parks down in front of your building, you don’t move at first, needing a moment to get yourself together and leave the car.
“I’m sorry if Niall upset you, he can be an ass sometimes, but I swear he didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Turning to Harry you only see bits and parts of his face in the dim lighting coming from the streetlights lining the pavement outside. He seems genuinely worried as he grips the steering wheel tight.
“It’s fine,” you mumble, but it doesn’t sound too convincing, not even to you.
“I’ll talk to him and tell him to apologize and—“
“I said it’s fine. I’m sure he has more important things to do than care for what he says to others,” you snap and flinging the door open you jump out of the car. “Thanks for the ride,” you mumble before shutting it closed, but you hear him get out right away, jogging to catch up with you before you could enter the building.
“Hey, I know he acted like a douche, but it was just a joke, okay?” Standing in front of you he stops you from walking further ahead and you stare up at him with your arms crossed over your chest, jaw clenched.
“What’s funny to one person might be hurtful to others, Harry. And I know damn well that guys like Niall think that everything is just a joke, but they are wrong. Sometimes you should think about what others might feel before dropping these so called jokes!”
You didn’t intend to lash out like this, but it’s been bottled up inside you for way too long. Everything that happened in high school, the way you were treated by Dax still stings, even though you tell yourself you’ve moved past it. Some things just way too deep to forget about them as fast as you’d like.
Harry clenches his jaw as he stares back at you, probably trying to figure out why you’re making such a big deal out of it, but it’s hard without knowing the background of the whole story and you’re not planning on sharing with him.
“Y/N, I—“
“I’ll see you in class, Harry,” you breathe out and walking past him, you finally get inside the building. Glancing back one last time you see that he is still standing there, like a statue, but you don’t wait to see how long he stays, you head up to your floor.
🏒🏒🏒
Harry doesn’t return home right after he dropped you off. He goes for a ride, replaying every tiny bit of what you told him. It doesn’t make sense, you were talking about Niall as if he was part of a group that hurt you, but you barely know him or any of the guys on the team to be honest.
He drives around the campus at least three times, passing by your building, wondering what you could be doing before he heads back to the house. It’s late and he is relieved to see that the party has died down since he left, only a couple more guests left aside from his teammates. He is relieved to see Elijah gone by now, he’s still mad at him for acting like that with you, his drunkenness is no excuse and Harry has a strong guess he was the one you were running away from when you stumbled into his room.
He sees Tanner and a few girls on the couch, a group of football players his teammates are friends with and then Niall and Zoe in the kitchen. When Zoe spots him walk in, she runs up to him right away.
“Hey, have you seen Y/N?”
“Yeah, I took her back to the dorm,” he nods, part of him a little mad at the girl that she lost track of her friend.
“Oh thank God! She is not answering her phone and I’ve looked for her everywhere!”
“Well, maybe you should leave her alone at a party,” Harry mumbles under his breath, the accusation taking Zoe by surprise, but then an expression of guilt flashes through her eyes. Harry didn’t mean to come off too harsh, it’s not at all his style, so he mumbles a quiet sorry before sighing. “She got really upset, I’m not sure why though.”
“What happened?” Zoe asks as Niall walks up behind her, placing a hand to the small of her back.
“I barged into Harry’s room when she was there, just joked around a bit, but she didn’t seem to take it well,” Niall admits, taking the blame. Harry can tell he feels guilty for whatever he did, even if he has no idea what triggered you.
Zoe lets out a tired sigh, her eyes closing and it’s clear she knows more than the two guys.
“You know why she got so upset?” he asks her.
“Well, I don’t know the whole story. She never told me and I didn’t want to push. But… some dumb football player messed with her in high school and it made her hate all athletes.”
“What? She hates all athletes because of one asshole?” Niall grimaces in confusion.
“I’m sure it’s more complicated than that, but I don’t know much, really.”
Harry chews on his bottom lip, theories running wild in his head about what could possibly happen to make you hate athletes this much, but he knows you’re the only one who knows the truth.
With one last glance at Zoe and Niall, he heads back up to his room.
Harry has never been a big fan of social media, but he has learnt that it could easily be a great source of information in some cases. Turning his laptop on he opens Facebook probably for the first time in a year. His profile is as dry as a desert, he hasn’t changed his picture since his sophomore year, but he couldn’t care less. Typing your name into the search bar he easily finds your profile, but it seems like you either keeps everything hidden from people that are not your friends or you use it just as often as he does. Sighing he leans back in his chair, thinking of another way to find out what really happened to you.
Though most of your information is hidden, your previous high school’s name is shown on your profile, so he uses that to get somewhere. He finds the school’s website and starts looking around until he stumbles upon a page where he can search up the digital versions of yearbooks from the past decade. Checking the year he thinks you graduated, he looks for you first just to be sure. When he finds your smiling photo, he takes just a few seconds to look at a version of you he didn’t have the luck to meet. You didn’t change much, just got a different haircut and maybe gained a few pounds, but Harry still thinks you look wonderful. Then he starts digging through the pages with special interest in the athletes.
Judging from the pictures it’s easy to figure out who were the popular kids in your grade, Dax Hackney catching his attention right away with his little group of friends from the football team. It seemed like he was the star player and was most likely breaking lots of hearts through his high school years. Oddly, Harry can’t imagine you falling for him, but he reminds himself not to judge a situation he didn’t witness or wasn’t in.
After a little more digging he eventually finds Dax’s social media and it’s just a few clicks from there to access all his friends’ profile from school. He is now attending school in California with a football scholarship, what a surprise and luckily he didn’t wipe his posts out after starting college.
Picture after picture, Harry scrolls through the pages until he finds what he was looking for. The posts are from your senior year and Harry actually needs a moment to recognize you with Dax and his friends in several photos. At parties, after football games, hanging out in someone’s basement, it seemed like you were part of his circle, until right before prom pictures. He clicks through the posts of several people, but sees no trace of you with Dax or any of his friends, like you disappeared. And then he finds an old video at a girl’s page that has his blood boiling.
It was taken at a party after prom clearly, judging from the outfits and all the booze. The girl took the video in selfie mode, sitting on a couch with Dax and another girl Harry saw in other posts too.
“How do you feel, winner?” the girl asked smiling ta the camera, clearly talking to Dax who smirks at the phone with an overwhelming amount of confidence.
“You mean double winner?” he chuckles.
“Oh yeah. You didn’t only become prom king but also won the bet with Nick,” the girl cackles and Harry can’t stop himself from grimacing as the video continues playing.
“She was an easy bet,” Dax chuckles before the video ends and jumps to the next one. Harry is fuming as he rewatches it, almost entirely sure that they were talking about you. That asshole must have brought you into some kind of nasty bet that ended up hurting you so badly you now hate all athletes. He truly thought shit like this only happens in movies, but apparently, it’s not the case.
The thought of some asshole football player breaking your heart got Harry fuming, bringing out the side of him not many know. He is not that easy to piss off to a level where he wants to throw a punch, unlike many of his teammates. But this piece of information about you makes him want to find every fucker that hurt you to beat them up for what they did.
🏒🏒🏒
You spend the weekend catching up on some assignments and papers that are due later before fall break, but you just don’t want to leave everything to the last minute. You even manage to go to the gym Sunday afternoon, squeezing in some cardio and weight lifting you’ve been putting off for a while now. It’s refreshing and switches your mind off for a while. You’re already heading to shower when Zoe texts you, asking if you want to watch a movie later with her. She’s been up in your case all weekend, asking what happened at the party, but you didn’t feel like talking about it, so now she is worried something might be bothering you. She is wrong, it was just a little something you’ll eventually forget about, you just need to avoid the people who bring these situations on you.
You text her back that you’ll be home soon and that she can choose a movie before you wash off the sweat of your workout. The rushing footsteps behind you send a shiver down your spine, making your inner alarm go off, but when you peek over your shoulder a wave of relief washes over you when you see that it’s just Harry.
“Hey!” he calls after you, quickly catching up with you on the pavement, a giant sports bag thrown over his shoulder. He is wearing an all black outfit that looks quite cozy, the sweatpants and hoodie seems soft and they hang a little baggy on him, but still giving a slight glimpse of his muscular figure underneath.
“Hi,” you mumble under your breath, never stopping moving ahead. “What are you doing here? Didn’t see you at the gym.”
“I wasn’t at the gym,” he smiles softly, nodding towards the building across the parking lot next to the gym that holds the school’s ice rink. You didn’t know they had practice this late and on Sunday. As if Harry is sensing your confusion, he explains what he was doing. “I help coach out sometimes at the kids’ practice.”
It still doesn’t make much sense, practices aren’t usually held on the weekend, it’s not too convenient, but you don’t question it any longer.
“Are you heading back to the dorm?” he asks and you just nod without a word. “I can give you a ride.”
“No need, I like to walk.”
“Y/N, your dorm is all the way across campus, it’s gonna take you at least twenty minutes to get home.”
“It’s nice out here,” you argue stubbornly.
“Y/N, please!” His hand gently grabs your upper arm to stop you from moving and you turn to face him. You see genuine worry on his face and right now you can’t quite point out any reason why he could use this against you and a ride home sounds kind of nice after the workout you just pulled.
“Okay,” you mumble back with a small nod.
“Great. My car is over there,” he nods towards the parking lot so you need to head back. “Are you feeling better?” he asks, peeking at you carefully.
“I’m fine,” you shrug, folding your arms on your chest.
“I’m really sorry about Friday and Niall too. I swear he didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Yeah, sure,” you hum, not quite in the mood to talk about any of it, but you know he won’t drop it.
“Look, I know that he can act like an ass sometimes, but he would never hurt anyone intentionally. He is a great guy, known him since high school. He was actually the first friend I made when I switched teams in high school. He just came up to me on the ice, told me he liked my skates and then invited me to hang out with him and his friends in his mom’s basement later that week. I had about zero friends back then so he really saved my ass.”
“You? Zero friends?” you ask surprised. It’s hard to imagine him not being popular.
“Yeah,” he nods with a small smile on his lips as his hands grab onto the strap of his bag to keep it from dangling by his side. “I actually used to be very shy, my mum made me start hockey to get some friends on the team when I was smaller. I mean, I’m still not a social butterfly, but I’m doing better now,” he admits with a soft chuckle.
“You don’t strike as someone who ever had issues with making friends.”
“There is a difference between always having people around me and actually being friends with them.”
That got you thinking. Because most of the times you saw Harry there were a bunch of people around him, but you haven’t actually seen him talk to anyone outside of his team and a very few people. This just backs up what he just shared with you.
You finally reach his car, the jeep you sat in just a few days ago, but this time you’re in a way better mood as you climb into the passenger seat.
“When do you want to keep working on our case?” he asks as he starts the car.
“Um, I’m pretty sure you’re busier with practices, so you tell me when you’re free.
“Actually, it would be nice if we got a head start on it before fall break. We’ll have a game almost every weekend, sometimes even two and coach is gonna be squeezing in as many practices as possible soon.”
You nod, not minding to work on it before the second half of the semester strikes.
“We can meet on Tuesday and Wednesday before practice and on Friday after practice?”
“Friday? That would mean you’d be late to whatever party is happening that day.”
Harry chuckles softly as he heads to your dorm’s building, knowing the route already.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m fine without parties.”
You push out a small chuckle, remembering how he spent his last Friday evening until you barged into his room. It’s just still weird that a hockey player is not eager to get drunk and party like crazy every chance given.
He pulls up to your building and suddenly you feel bummed it was such a short run-in with him. Reaching for the handle you force yourself to get out of the car.
“Thanks for the ride, Harry,” you smile softly.
“No problem. See you on Tuesday in class?” he smiles back and you swear your heart pitter-patters in your chest. But it’s just the cardio, right? Right?!
You bid goodbye and get inside, chewing on your bottom lip as you head up to your room. Harry Styles has been full of surprises and proven to you that he is not who you thought him to be several times. Maybe you shouldn’t hold a grudge against him for what people he doesn’t even know did to you. But is it worth letting your guards down?
🏒🏒🏒
As the semester carries on and you get deeper into the fall, you get into a series of habits during your weeks. You rotate between classes, doing school work in the library, hanging out with Zoe and some of your other friends and of course, working on your case with Harry. Thanks to your sessions, you see him at least four times a week along with your Tuesday class. You don’t try to keep a distance from him anymore, it’s not even possible with the project going on and Zoe dating Niall. You end up being around him even outside of your study sessions but you don’t mind it, not at all.
You don’t like to admit it, but you’ve grown to like him. A lot. He is great company, he gets your sense of humor unlike many others and he is great with boundaries. It might come from what he told you about being a shy kid growing up. The more time you’ve spent with him the more you saw how reserved he really is and probably that’s why you don’t feel pressure being around him. You just know he would respect your boundaries no matter what.
“Oh shit,” Harry mumbles under his breath, catching your attention. The two of you have been sitting in the library doing research for your case, now he is looking at his phone. “I need to get going, practice starts in fifteen.”
“Oh, I didn’t even realize it was that late,” you chuckle softly, closing the book you’ve been reading and start packing your notes together while Harry does the same. Digging into your bag you get a sense that something is missing. Your hand taps around in your bag when you realize what it is. “Oh shit,” you sigh.
“What?” Harry asks.
“I… left my keys in the room. I was late this morning and forgot to grab them because Zoe was still there.”
“Can you get hers?”
“I uhh… She is in class for another hour,” you sigh, sinking back into the chair. “Guess I’m staying here.”
“You could come to practice if you want,” he offers, zipping up his backpack. “Coach doesn’t mind the audience,” he adds chuckling.
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to intrude and—“
“Y/N, I just said it’s totally fine. But if you want to stay here, that’s fine,” he shrugs, not pushing you any further. If you’re being honest, you’re getting sick of the library. Sticking around for another hour on your own doesn’t sound like something you’d want to do.
“Well, if you’re sure it’s okay, then…”
“Of course it is. Now pack up, we gotta run.”
You’ve never seen an ice-hockey practice and didn’t think you’d ever. It feels weird when Harry leaves you on the grandstand to get changed. It’s almost eerily empty until you see the coach walk in, not even batting an eye when he sees you sitting there. Soon the boys come out in their gear, gliding across the ice like it’s second nature to them.
As they gather around coach at the beginning you catch Harry’s gaze that finds you easily and he shoots you a smile before focusing on what he needs to. And you can’t ignore how your heart skips a beat just by a look he shares with you.
Damn it.
“Now you’re bringing her to practice? Shit is getting serious!” Niall jokes with Harry as they keep shooting around to warm up.
“She just left her keys at the room and Zoe is still in class,” he shrugs, but he knows it’s more than just that. Harry likes having you up there, stretching his time with you even longer than the usual amount.
“And coming to practice was her only choice? I doubt that,” he smirks, but Harry doesn’t budge. He will not out anything about you to anyone at this point, not until he feels like you trust him.
Telling you about his shyness as a kid seemed like what got you to open towards him, though he can still feel your hesitance in some cases. It’s alright, he knows the struggle of getting to know new people all too well.
“Ask her out to the Halloween party,” Niall suggests.
“I don’t know about that, she is not a fan of… parties, I guess. Neither am I to be honest.”
“Because you always keep to yourself, but you two could be lonely together this time.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Harry chuckles at his friend. He glances up at you again, seeing that you have a book open on your lap, but you’re watching him and his team mates messing around on the ice. He could easily get used to having you around more often, it brings him a sense of tranquility.
You sit through the whole practice without even texting Zoe that you need her to get back to the room. You got way too busy watching Harry on the ice, it’s almost a little embarrassing. But you have to admit it was kind of entertaining and it wasn’t even a real game. It amazed you how good they all are on the ice, you could never glide the way they do, probably because the last time you skated was when you were ten.
When practice is over you realize you didn’t read one single line from the book you had on your lap, hopefully no one noticed it. You see Harry glide to the edge of the rink in front of you, pushing himself up a bit over the palisade.
“I can give you a ride home if you want, just have to shower quickly.”
“I’ll be at your car,” you smile back at him, packing up your stuff, watching him get off of the ice and disappear in the dressing room.
You let out a long sigh, taking a moment to yourself before heading out of the building to Harry’s car. As you walk out and head to the parking lot you spot a group of girls at a bench near the exit and you catch their glimpses of you when they spot you. Keeping your head low you just get over to Harry’s car and hope he won’t take long. At last you text Zoe asking if she’s back already and you’re relieved to get a message from her that she just got back to the room.
Boys from the team start flowing out of the building and you don’t miss how the girls say hi to all of them, seemingly knowing them well enough to be friendly to them. Now that you’re thinking about it, you’ve seen them at parties, last time at Tanner’s birthday as well.
Harry is about the fifth person to walk out, wearing his clothes from earlier, but his hair is now damp probably from the shower he just took.
“Hi Harry!” one of the girls calls out upon seeing him. It seems like he didn’t notice them until now and you watch him just send a wave in their direction before walking up to the car where you are.
“Hey, ready to go?” he asks unlocking the car and opening the passenger door for you.
“Thanks,” you mumble before he shuts the door closed and rounds the car to get to the other side. Through the window you see the girls intently talking about most likely you and probably who you are and why you’re leaving with Harry after practice. It takes just a second for you to make wild guesses what the girls could be talking about.
Who is she?
Why is Harry spending time with her?
Are they dating?
Is she really his type?
As Harry shuts his door you snap out of your thoughts, turning to watch him ignite the car.
“Hey, do you know them?” you ask nodding towards the girls. He glances out the window, taking a look at them.
“Um, not that well. They are more like friends with Tanner and Jack,” he shrugs and it’s nice to know he is not friends with them, but you’re still left with a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. “Hope you weren’t that bored during practice,” he smiles at you as he heads to your dorm.
“It was actually kind of fun,” you admit shyly.
“Really? You should come to a game then.”
“You think I would like that?”
“If you enjoyed practice, you’d be fine with the game. A lot more is happening then.”
“If you say so,” you chuckle.
“Maybe next Saturday?” he asks in excitement, not wanting to pass on the chance to get you to one of his games.
“Um, we’ll see,” you smile at him, but already know that you’ll most likely be there. Zoe’s been already trying to drag you to a game since she’s become a thing with Niall, she’ll be over the moon if she finds out you finally want to go.
🏒🏒🏒
You: You know, we still haven’t watched the Netflix series.
Harry: That is very true.
You: Do you still want to?
Harry: Of course! Want to binge watch it this weekend?
You: I’m in.
Harry: Sunday?
You: Perfect.
🏒🏒🏒
You spend most of the Sunday cleaning. Your laundry has piled up way too much over the past two weeks and it was time to clean out your mini fridge as well. Zoe has been out with Niall, but when she gets back in the afternoon she joins in, cleaning up her side of the room a bit though she’s been keeping it quite tidy.
“Want to make a quick grocery trip with me?” she offers while you’re both changing the sheets on your beds.
“Um, I can’t, I have plans with Harry.”
“Oh! Like a date?” she beams with excitement, but you shake your head.
“No, we are just gonna watch that Netflix docu series about the case for criminology.”
“Mm, some Netflix and chill,” she winks at you, but you just roll your eyes at her. “You’ve been spending a lot of time together.”
“Yeah, we want to finish the project early before he gets caught up with games and practice.”
“But it hasn’t been just for the project.”
“Well, I guess you’re right,” you nod, biting the inside of your cheeks.
“Is there… something more going on?” she keeps pushing curiously.
“Um, not really. Don’t think so,” you shake your head and it’s the genuine truth. It hasn’t been anything but friendly.
“But you want something more to happen, right?” Zoe can’t hide her smile as she stands with her hands on her hips while you busy yourself with the pillows on your bed, not answering her. “Y/N!”
“What?” you huff in defeat.
“You’re into him, right?” Now she is grinning, walking over to you and pulling you with her to sit on your freshly made bed. “I see it in your eyes, you can’t deny it!”
“If you’re so sure then why are you asking?”
“Come on, just admit it! It’s totally fine that you like him, don’t have to be ashamed about it.”
“I’m not ashamed.”
“So you do like him!”
“I guess I do,” you admit with a sigh. “He is just… easy to be around. Doesn’t try to talk all the time, he actually has great manners and I don’t know…”
“You have a crush on him,” Zoe points it out, making your heart skip a beat just by thinking about it. It’s been so long since the last time you had a crush on someone that you almost forgot about the feeling.
“Let’s not get into theories, alright?” you chuckle awkwardly. “We’re just… friends. Don’t want to get into the rest of that mess.”
“Okay, okay, I gotcha. But just so you know, there’s nothing wrong about liking him even if it’s against your rules and all that,” she tells you, giving your knee a squeeze before she stands up and drops the topic finally.
You get done way before Harry told you he would pick you up since he is assisting his coach at the kids’ practice today as well. Not wanting to sit around longer, driven by a sudden idea you head across the campus to sit in on the practice a little, hoping you won’t get thrown out.
Luckily as you arrive you’re happy to see you’re not the only one watching, several parents are sitting on the grandstand. You settle on the side, scanning over the ice that is now filled with little kids instead of guys in their twenties. They are practicing passing, lined up in two lines, passing the puck between each other while Harry is going around, helping them all out, the coach instructing them from his usual spot. You watch them curiously and the more you examine the kids the clearer it becomes to you that this is not just a regular practice for kids.
It takes some time for Harry to spot you and when he does, he waves in your way before getting back to work. You are in complete awe at how good he is with the kids, his patience never runs out and it seems like the kids adore him too. You can’t wipe the silly smile off your face as you watch him for the rest of the practice.
When the ice empties out you follow the parents to the waiting area while the kids change back from their gear. They all flow out at once along with the coach and Harry. Some boys basically cling onto him, their parents trying to get them to leave already, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind.
“Hey,” he smiles at you when he finally frees himself from his fans.
“Hi. Sorry I came earlier, I just really didn’t have anything to do,” you admit with an awkward chuckle.
“It’s alright.” Another boy runs up to Harry, hugging him goodbye before taking his mother’s hand as they walk out of the building.
“You’re really good with them,” you tell him seeing how he interacts with them.
“Thanks.” He scratches the back of his neck, clearly not used to the praise, but you can tell it’s something that’s close to his heart.
“These kids… they are…” You try to find the right words, but luckily he helps you out.
“They are all in special ed. Their disabilities vary from autism through severe anxiety…” he encounters taking a look at the remaining of the kids left in the area. “We have a deaf boy as well…”
“How did you get into helping them out?”
“Coach was asked to start the group and he thought he could use the extra help. He knows me well, knows how much I struggled growing up and he thought I could connect with the kids well. He was right,” he smiles shyly and it feels like your chest is on fire.
There is this tall, sporty guy you thought to be a douche and it turns out that he is a shy, smart and ridiculously nice guy who helps out kids with disabilities… You couldn’t have been more wrong when you judged him just by his looks.
“Ready to go?” he asks, snapping you out of your awe and you can only hope you weren’t staring at him weirdly.
“Yeah, let’s go,” you nod, trying to keep yourself together.
You can’t miss the curious looks the two of you get when you walk into the house together, especially from Niall and you see him pull his phone out right away, most likely texting Zoe that you’re there. Didn’t expect less, to be honest. Harry guides you up to his room and quickly unpacks his bag before starting his laptop so you can watch the series. It gives you a little déjà vu as you both get settled on his bed with the laptop between you, just like not long ago at that party you both were trying to escape.
One episode follows the other and you both get so invested in the series, discussing theories and everything you’ve dug up yourself about the case. It’s interesting to watch the episodes with actual background knowledge about the investigation and techniques they were using, spotting the flaws that could have been avoided.
You don’t even realize how late it’s getting, but not much is left from it so you decide to just finish it anyway. Harry promised he would drive you home after so you don’t have to walk in the dark. However when you peek over at Harry nearing the end, you see that he has fallen asleep. His face is mushed into the pillow, lips slightly parted as he lies on his side, one arm tucked under his head. The light coming from the screen is playing on his gentle expressions.
Fuck, he look so handsome! It would be so much easier to keep yourself guarded if you weren’t attracted to him this much. The amazing personality and his look is a killer combo and as you’re staring at him in the dim lighting, you realize that you are so fucking gone for him…
Not wanting to wake him up, when the last episode finishes you shut his laptop down and put it aside. You think about looking for Niall to ask for a ride home, but it’s ridiculously late now on a Sunday, you don’t want to bother anyone. So instead, you set an alarm early enough for you to go back to your room in the morning and then just decide to spend the night. You really hope Harry won’t mind it as you make yourself comfortable next to him, his bed big enough to easily fit you both. His even breathing is the soothing lullaby you fall asleep to.
🏒🏒🏒
Harry wakes before the alarm in the morning, blinking his haziness away a little confused. When did he fall asleep? He doesn’t remember how the evening ended, one moment you were watching the series, and then…
His eyes fall to your sleeping figure next to him, curled up under the covers, still wearing your clothes from last night. Looking around he spots his laptop safely put aside to the nightstand, your phone lying on top of it. He lets out a long breath, just taking a moment to himself, his eyes glued to you. He adores how peaceful you look and a lot younger. A few strands of hair have fallen out of your ponytail, covering your forehead hastily and before he could stop himself, he is reaching out, gently tugging them behind your ear.
Just right then, your alarm goes off, making you move under his delicate touch and he is quick to pull his hand back before you could realize what he was doing. You stir in your sleep, blindly reaching for the phone and turning the alarm off, a heavy sigh leaving your lips. It takes a couple of moments for your eyes to open, meeting Harry’s green ones.
“Hi,” you sigh with a small smile on your lips and Harry’s heart skips a beat. He could get used to seeing you like this every morning.
“Good morning,” he hums, his voice hoarser than usually. “Sorry I fell asleep last night.”
“It’s alright.”
“You could have woken me up.”
“You seemed tired, didn’t want to bother you. I hope you didn’t mind that I stayed,” you whisper, feeling a little shy that you just shared a bed with him.
“I would have been mad if you left alone in the middle of the night,” he chuckles softly, pushing himself up into a sitting position as he checks the time on his own phone. “How about we get some breakfast on our way back to your dorm?” he suggests and your grumbling stomach agrees that it’s a fantastic idea.
Twenty minutes later you’re eating croissants and sipping on coffee on the terrace of a small bakery near your dormitory, having the best morning you’ve had in a while. When Harry drops you off at the dormitory part of you wishes you could spend the whole day with him. And then the next one… and the next one.
Yeah, you’ve definitely fallen for Harry.
🏒🏒🏒
Zoe is over the moon when you tell her you want to go to a game. She’s been going on her own, cheering on Niall and now she’ll finally have someone with her. You feel a little anxious to show up, always thinking about those girls you saw after Harry’s practice that one time. They seem like the kind of girls who wouldn’t miss a game, being close to the guys every given chance. But you try your best to push it into the back of your mind and focus on what’s important: seeing Harry play at a game for the first time.
He’s been all you could think about since your Netflix party. It’s almost ridiculous how you can turn everything around in your head and make it connect to Harry. Because of the game this weekend he had to cancel on Wednesday’s session because they had a double practice. And what did you do? You sat in your room, pathetically wishing you could be with him. Even thought about going to the sports center and watch the practice, but didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself.
Now it’s finally time and when Niall texts Zoe that they arrived, you feel just as excites as on Christmas morning when you were a kid. Niall and Harry picking you up with your best friend, this feels straight out of a teenage movie and you should be laughing at yourself for getting so worked up, but you’re too excited to care about that.
“Hello, ladies!” Niall beams when the two of you walk out of the building. He walks forward to catch Zoe, kissing her so passionately you can almost feel your cheeks heating up. Then you See Harry standing next to the car, smiling at you shyly and suddenly, you want him to greet you the same way Niall greeted your roommate.
Just as you’re thinking about that, for your surprise he pulls you into a hug, wrapping his arms around your frame. For a brief moment you don’t even know what to do, but then you curl your arms around his torso, melting against him gladly.
“Hi,” he greets you quietly when he pulls back, smiling down at you.
“Hi,” you giggle, staring up at him. There’s a moment of sparkle, you swear it’s there, but it’s gone pretty fast when Niall interrupts it.
“Alright, let’s go! Don’t want to be late and get a speech from Coach Simmons,” he scoffs, patting Harry’s shoulder as he rounds the car. Would have been nice to drag the moment a little longer, but whatever…
It’s still pretty early when you get to the sports center, but hockey enthusiasts are already arriving, mostly students from the school. Two of the guys’ teammates come up to the four of you upon arriving, talking about how brutal today’s game will be.
“Wilson needs to pay for what he did last year,” Jack sighs shaking his head.
“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of him this time,” Niall grins, kissing Zoe’s forehead as he pulls her to his side.
“Wilson?” you ask in confusion, turning to Harry.
“There is this aggressive asshole on Princeton’s team, he almost broke one of our guys’ arm last year,” he explains, your eyes going wide.
“And he is playing today too?”
“Yeah, but don’t worry, we’ve been preparing for him,” he chuckles softly, grabbing his bag from the back of the car.
Wilson… the name rings a bell, but you can’t quite put your finger on it and it’s a common name. But why do you have a weird feeling in your gut then?
Just when the boys are about to head inside, a bus rolls into the parking lot. Princeton’s team has arrived. The doors open and the players start flowing off of it, grabbing their stuff from the trunk. Scanning over them you are about to dismiss their existence when you spot a familiar face and it hits you hard all at once.
Now the name Wilson makes sense, as you see Axel Wilson exit the bus, looking just as bulky and arrogant looking as he was in high school.
“Fuck,” you mumble under your breath, taking a step back out of instinct, bumping against the side of the car.
Axel Wilson was friends with Dax back in high school. He played on the football team but he put more effort into hockey and you faintly remember him getting accepted into a school with a hockey team and now here he is, about to play against the Eagles. You can totally imagine him getting too violent on the ice, just as the guys said, he had quite a few troubles back in high school too. He also very confidently made fun of you after you found out what kind of sick games Dax was playing with you, never shied away to call you names in the hallway after you dropped their whole group.
“Y/N? Are you alright?” Harry calls out seeing your reaction. He steps closer, a hand reaching out to tap on your shoulder and feeling his touch you move closer to him as if he was your safe place.
“Y-Yeah, I just… Um, we should…” you stutter around, eyes keep returning to Axel across the parking lot. Harry follows your gaze and his jaw clenches when he realizes that you’re eyeing Axel.
“Do you know him?” he asks, lowering his head and voice, not to draw any attention to you.
“I uhh… Yeah, we-we went to high school together,” you admit and without realizing what you’re doing, you hold onto his hand, moving even closer to him.
You see his eyes flicker back to Axel and you’ve never seen him this… angry? He looks like he is about to launch at him any moment, but he doesn’t even know a thing about that asshole.
When you squeeze his hand it’s like he snaps out of his trance looking back at you. Surprising you again, he pulls you into a tight hug, your face burying into the crook of his neck.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him,” he mumbles against the side of your head before letting you go. It takes a few seconds to process his words, but you can’t question him, because by the time you realize what he just said, he is already on his way inside with the other boys.
“Y/N, you alright?” Zoe asks seeing your shocked expression.
“I think… Shit, Harry is gonna get into trouble and it’s… my fault?!”
You have no idea how he knows about what happened or how he knew that Axel did something against you, but judging from the look in his eyes, you know he is gonna put up a fight against Axel.
🏒🏒🏒
Harry hasn’t been able to get into the right mindset since he saw you looking at Axel terrified and he just knew he was one of the assholes that hurt you. He still doesn’t know the whole story, but that doesn’t mean he is not fuming. Whatever happened was painful enough to leave a scar in you and that’s all Harry needs to know.
Not much is left until the game and he tries to calm himself with the thought of you being out there, waiting to see him get on the ice. But his thoughts keep returning to the asshole in the dressing room next to theirs.
Checking his phone he sees that he had a few missed calls from you since you parted in front of the building and he heads out with the intention of calling you back but when he is out in the hallway, he changes his mind. You must have sensed something on him and now want to talk him down of whatever he might do during the game, but he doesn’t want to hear that, not now. He would rather deal with the aftermath but give Wilson what he deserves.
As if he was speaking of the devil, turning around he sees Axel and two of his teammates approaching him in the hallway, his eyes falling on Harry’s figure.
“Styles! I guess you put on some muscles since last year, yeah?” Axel scoffs, his friends laughing at his comment. Harry wants to launch at him, punch him in the face but he knows if he does anything, he won’t be able to play. So he just stands there, staring back at the three guys. “What? Cat got your tongue?” he continues the teasing. “Saw you outside with your little girl, did she tell you we know each other?”
The smirk on his face makes Harry’s hands itch. This guy just doesn’t know when to shut up and he is really testing Harry’s patience, something he runs rich on, but not this time, seems like.
“Yeah, I know about that,” he sneers back through his teeth.
“Nice choice, she is naïve as fuck. My buddy back in high school made her think he was into her. Ate all the shit up before she got ditched before prom.”
Cackling as if he just said the joke of the century, it’s pretty clear Axel thinks it’s a fun story, something he can brag about, but Harry thinks otherwise. Seeing his expression, Axel is just enjoying this moment even more, faking a gasp.
“Oh, is she your girlfriend? That’s your type? Pathetic and ridiculous?”
The last straw snaps in Harry and he is about to jump at Axel’s throat when Niall steps between them.
“Get back to your team, Wilson,” he warns the asshole as Harry is staring at him over Niall’s shoulder with a murderous look. Axel scoffs, backing away from them, but he doesn’t miss the chance to throw one last insult in before he leaves.
“I see you still haven’t learnt to speak up. Guess it’s a good match, Styles. You are both losers.”
🏒🏒🏒
Sitting on the grandstand with Zoe you are basically a nervous wreck. You tried to call Harry to find out what’s really going on but he didn’t answer and you gave up after a while. Now you’re afraid of what will go down during the game.
When the players finally appear on the ice you swear your heart skips a beat when you see Harry in his gear, his last name STYLES printed to the back of his jersey. Unlike during practice, the place is now filled so when Harry runs his gaze over the stands he doesn’t find you at first, but after a few rounds, his eyes finally settle on you.
You wish you could tell him to just stay out of trouble, you wish he could hear your thoughts but there’s no chance, he is down there and you’re up here. You can’t do else than just… watch.
Because you don’t know much about ice hockey, once the game starts it’s hard to keep up with everything that’s happening on the ice, but Zoe helps you out a bit, even though she is not that big of an expert either. She tells you that Harry is a defense player while Niall is their center, and judging from the positions you assume that Axel is a center as well for his own team. You know nothing about tactics or gameplay, but it’s clear that Axel is the most aggressive player on the ice. He gets a two minute penalty in the first period when he trips Tanner so badly he slides several feet from the momentum. Everyone hisses as one when it happens while Axel pretends like nothing happened, but the referees saw it and he gets sent out for two minutes but it seems like he just gets riled up even more because of it.
“Why are they letting him back?” you ask anxiously when you see Axel back on the ice.
“Tanner didn’t get hurt too badly so it’s just two minutes.”
“Didn’t get hurt too badly? Poor guy was sent across the ice!”
And it’s just getting worse. Because you see him move a lot around Harry as if it was his purpose to hurt him and it’s definitely something you expect from a guy like Axel.
Niall scores twice by the end of the second period while the other team scores once, putting your team in the lead. You’re so anxious when the last break starts, your legs are bouncing wild and nothing Zoe is saying can calm you down. When the guys return to the ice, you’re barely breathing.
It happens so fast. Axel is launching forward again and your eyes immediately shift to Harry and judging just by the way he is holding himself, you know he is about to do something stupid.
“Harry!” you find yourself shouting, but your voice gets swallowed in the screaming of all the other students.
They are moving towards each other until they collide, smashing against the other, both of them falling painfully. The screaming elevates and you’re holding your breath as you watch Harry pushing himself up. The referee doesn’t give him a penalty, it surely seemed like an accident, but something is telling you it was far from that. It’s just so shocking to see Harry, your Harry being so violent. Though part of you enjoyed seeing Axel getting knocked down like that, but he doesn’t seem happy about it and it sets the alarm off inside you.
There’s still about ten minutes left when Axel shows just how big of an asshole he is. He and another one of his teammates from his right are attacking, though Niall and Tanner are doing a great job at keeping them away from the net, right until he decides to take matters into his hands. When the puck gets stolen from him for the third time in a row it seems like he completely loses his temper and lashes it all out on Harry.
It doesn’t seem as innocent as the last collision was. It’s clear that Axel lurches at him with the pure intention to hurt him, pushing him up against the board, his elbow meeting Harry’s face so painfully you can almost feel it on your own face. Axel then grabs him by his shoulders and throws him down onto the edge and just when he is about to punch him in the face Harry kicks back and throws him off of himself.
If the referee didn’t interfere it would have surely turned into a full blown fight, but they both end up having to leave the ice and they can’t even return for the rest of the game. Harry has had his back towards you all along but when he finally turns to get off the ice you see the blood flowing from his nose and you pale at the sight of him. Axel shouts at him one last time before he gets thrown into the box for the rest of the game and you don’t hear what it is, but you hear one thing from it.
Your name.
“I need to go,” you jump to your feet when Harry is taken back, probably to get his nose checked out.
“What? Y/N!” Zoe calls after you, but you ignore it. All you can think about is to get to Harry and make sure he is okay.
The rest of the building is almost entirely empty, the game is still on so only a few people are lingering outside of the stands. You rush to the back, running down the unfamiliar hallways hoping to find him somewhere.
“Harry?” you call out, but no answer comes, until you hear the water running in one of the dressing rooms and you head in that direction without hesitation. “Harry, it’s me, Y/N,” you call out again, walking into the room.
You find him leaning against a sink by the wall, his upper body stripped from his gear, jus his underclothes sticking to his torso as he is getting a towel wet to clean his face. His head snaps up at your arrival, surprised to find you there.
“Y/N, what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to check on you. That looks… shit, let me help, sit down,” you tell him and he doesn’t try to protest, just sits down to the nearest bench as you take the towel from him.
Gently, you wipe the blood off, luckily his nose has stopped running so it’s just a matter of time that he gets rid of this horror-like look. You cup his jaw in one hand, keeping his head in place.
“Sorry,” you breathe out when he hisses when you’re working on the bridge of his nose that’s already starting to bruise. “Shouldn’t you get it checked?”
“It’s not broken,” he sighs, but you give him a skeptical look. “I’ve broken it twice before, know what it feels like,” he adds.
“Harry, what happened?” you ask softly when you’re done, dropping the towel into the sink.
“He is just an asshole,” he shrugs, but it’s an obvious lie.
“I know you messed with him on purpose the first time, that wasn’t an accident, right?” you question, referring back to the first time him and Axel collided. Harry clenches his jaw before nodding shortly. “Before the game, you said you’re gonna take care of him. How did you know he did something?”
“I… please don’t get mad, but I searched up a few people you went to high school with. Saw a video that made it pretty clear that Dax guy did something disgusting to you and when you saw Axel at the parking lot I just knew he was part of it.”
Sitting beside him you know you have to share the whole story with him. Especially after what he just took from Axel.
“I was never the popular girl in high school and I always envied the girls everyone knew,” you start and Harry listens intently. “I was surprised when Dax, the star football player approached me. It occurred to me that he might have some bad intentions, but I was so naïve and I enjoyed the sudden attention I was getting not just from him, but all the other popular kids too.”
You’re nervously fidgeting with your fingers in your lap until Harry reaches out and takes your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze, like he is assuring him that everything is fine, you can trust him.
“Dax kept coming after me, flirting with me and asking me out all the time, but I didn’t want to give in that easily. But he didn’t give up and when prom was nearing I thought that he would ask me out if we went on a few dates beforehand. Looking back at it, it’s so silly this was all I wanted, going to prom with the cool kids,” you chuckle bitterly.
“Don’t feel bad, we all wanted to be them at one point,” Harry speaks up, his words actually bringing you a sense of relief.
“Anyway, there was this party, I finally decided to give in, so I let him take me. Kind of like a date, though it was nowhere near that. He was so convincing, I didn’t suspect a thing… We had a few drinks, it was going as usual, until he brought me up into one of the bedrooms. He kissed me and… tried to take it further, but I didn’t want to.”
“Please tell me he didn’t…”
“No,” you shake your head. “I wasn’t as drunk as he wanted me to be and I left him after slapping him across his face. I went home, didn’t think it was the end of the world and honestly, if it was the end of the story I would be fine. But Dax went around and told everyone that we had sex and that he did it all for just a bet he made with his stupid friends. He had to get into my pants before prom or he would be paying for all the booze at their ridiculous prom after party.”
Your throat closes up again, thinking back at how worthless and stupid you felt when you found out that it was all just a bet and Dax lied to everyone about what happened between the two of you.
“All of his friends were laughing at me, when just a week before that we were hanging out together. They chose me because I was kind of invisible so they thought I was a loser. I didn’t think like that about myself before, but after what they did…” You let out a long breath, blinking your tears away. “Anyway, I became a joke in the football team and because Axel was friends with Dax, the hockey team was laughing at me too. I couldn’t wait to graduate and start again, wasn’t really planning to see any of them again, so Axel’s appearance threw me off a little,” you admit with a weak chuckle.
Harry’s hand lets go of yours but only to wrap an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to his side as you sniffle lightly. You lay your head to his shoulder and he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. After a comfortable and much needed silence he is the first one to speak up.
“Axel saw me with you. He came up to me before the game and said some nasty stuff about you and of course insulted me as well, being the asshole that he is.”
Lifting your head you look at him with widened eyes, listening to his words.
“I almost… punched him right then and there, but Niall stopped me. Thought I would channel it in the game. You’re right, the first one wasn’t an accident. I was just done with his shit, especially after he threw Tanner to the ground. The second time was all him and I could have avoided the penalty if I just didn’t fight back, but… I swear I’ve never been angrier at anyone,” he admits with a chuckle. “Then when we were coming off the ice he said that… well, I would rather not say his exact words, but he didn’t talk about you the way you deserve. So now I wish I would have hit him a few more times before we got separated.”
“He is not worth it. Though I would have loved to see him get his ass kicked,” you admit chuckling, finally putting a smile on his face too.
You didn’t tell anyone about what happened in high school, not even Zoe. Didn’t want anyone to know how naïve and stupid you were to fall for Dax’s little game. But now that you shared it with Harry you actually feel relieved. You don’t feel like he is judging you, or thinking about how you could be such an idiot not to see what was happening right in front of your nose. He is just there for you, comforting you and that’s all you need, that’s all you’ve ever needed.
Suddenly, you realize how close you are sitting, basically pressed up against each other, his arm still draped around you and as you lift your gaze to meet his, you know he is feeling the sparkles, there’s no doubt.
Reaching up you run a finger gently over the bridge of his nose, it’s swollen and bruised, he’ll have to deal with it for a little while for sure, but in a way it’s a reminder to you what he did for you.
“I’m sorry you got hurt because of me,” you murmur softly.
“He is a jerk, he would have done something even if you weren’t in the picture.”
“But still, he went straight after you now. Though you look badass now,” you chuckle, making him smile.
“That’s what I wanted all along,” he jokes and you don’t miss how he leans together, your noses almost brushing against each other. “Besides, I couldn’t just let him get away with talking about you like that. After all… we are partners in crime, right?”
You breathe out a chuckle at his words, the last time he called you that you were trying everything to avoid him, now all you want is to be with him. Never in a million years did you think that you’d fall for a player after what Dax put you through, but Harry only plays on the ice, not with you.
Placing one hand onto his thigh you cup his cheek in your other as you push yourself closer to him, he nudges you playfully with his nose, making you giggle before his lips finally press against yours.
This kiss has been long due and for a second you regret keeping yourself away from him for so long, but then you completely forget about anything but him and the way his lips are melting against yours, his tongue sliding over your bottom lip, asking for permission that you give more than gladly, deepening the kiss. It doesn’t even bother you that you’re in a stinky dressing room, that he is still kinda sweaty from the game, you just want to drag it out for as long as possible.
However it ends when you hear the cheering outside and the rest of the team floods into the room, the game must have just ended. You lean back just as the guys appear, tired from the match, quieting down when they see you and Harry all tangled up.
For a split second you think they are gonna make fun of you, like it happened back when Dax played you, but after a heartbeat of silence they burst out in cheers, clapping and celebrating and it’s pretty clear it’s not about the result of the game. They are going wild because of you and Harry.
“Yes! Styles finally got the girl!”
“Harry manned up, miracle!”
“Our boy is now a man!”
They shout things like these, making your cheeks heating up but not with painful embarrassment this time. Harry groans next to you, but tightens his arms around you as you lean your forehead against his chest. Niall steps forward, patting Harry on the back with the cheesiest grin on his face, his hair all messed up from the helmet, cheeks rosy.
“Fucking hell, it was time already!” he cackles loudly. “I was starting to grow tired of watching him gawk at you any given moment.”
“Way to out me, man!” Harry rolls his eyes, but you don’t miss the smirk on his lips. His gaze turns back to you, squeezing you gently as you stare back at him lovingly. “Though I can’t promise I’ll stop eyeing her all the time,” he adds lowering his voice so only you can hear him. As a reply you just pull him down and kiss him again.
🏒🏒🏒
Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!
the one where YN is a rising star in 1940's Hollywood, and Harry sets his eyes on her even though she's married.
author's note: two posts in two weeks? who am i? so thankful for all of the love on Desire i'm so glad you enjoyed it, and i hope you enjoy Glitz and Glamour just as much. posts are probably going to slow down again (very sorry just have a lot on plate going back to work, ugh) but imma promise that i'm not going to be gone for long, and there may even be a new series in the works ;) love ya lots!
word count: 10k of glitz, glamour, smut, fluff, angst and everything in between. (don't forget harry being a sexy rock star)
let me know what you think of Glitz and Glamour here! mwah <3
Hollywood, 1946
“I told you, Marshall, I’m not doing it.”
YN sat in her husband’s office; the pinstripe pencil skirt suit she had on giving her a sense of confidence to say what she really wants to in front of her husband. It wasn’t that she was usually a pushover in front of her husband – but his power scared her.
YN had met Marshall Miller when she was twenty-one, and she had just moved to Hollywood with nothing but a small suitcase full of all her personal belongings and a dream on her shoulders. It was at a scouting audition that she’d first met him, and YN knew that there were two things that were working on her side. The first was that she had a strive and a power to be the best actress that she could ever be, and the other was that she knew how to have men in the palm of her hand.
From being cast in her first film that day (even if it was only a minor role) she had Marshall Miller in the palm of her hand and she was holding on tight. She was in three more Marshall Miller films across the next three months, and in the fourth month of living in Hollywood she was married to one of the most influential directors in the business.
Obviously, YN had never planned for her marriage to be a business move (it was from her opinion, she didn’t know about Marshall), but she had to roll with the punches that this town gave her. She knew she would never love Marshall, but she couldn’t lie and tell herself that she didn’t appreciate the opportunities that he bestowed upon her.
That included this one – the first time that she was going to be a leading lady in a film that wasn’t just the wife of an important male lead. However, things weren’t exactly working to her plan when she received a revised version of the script which included a slightly more sexual scene (fine, whatever) but that also included her being nude.
This was the one thing that she had discussed with Marshall when she was first scouted – that she would do everything that she asked to, but she wouldn’t get nude in any scene she did. That would change the game for her acting – any last hopes for her to be known as an acting force in this life would be out of the window and she would be renamed as a ‘sex-symbol’ which wasn’t the life that she was looking for.
“I’m sorry, YN but you don’t have a choice.”
“I do have a choice, Marshall,” YN stood her ground, leaning forward in her chair and tapping her red-painted nails on top of his desk, “This is my body, Marshall, and I don’t want it recorded for everyone to see.”
“I think you’re forgetting something, YN,” He leans back in his chair and sparks up a cigarette, a look on his face that scares her and angers her all at the same time, “We’re married, you signed a contract to these studios – I own your body and what we want you to do with it.”
YN didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know whether to scream, cry or laugh her way out of the room. Instead, she stood up and spat, “Fuck you, Marshall,” at him and stormed out of the room.
There was no way in fuck that she was going back to work right now, and there was equally no way that she was going home where she may have to deal with the backlash of her actions towards her husband today – so she went to the next best place.
YN had found out about the bar that she had just walked into through some of the girls at the studio. It was a bar that many of the elite in Hollywood came to, mainly because it was underground and normally anything that happened there was kept under wraps by everybody there. It was an amazing bar, and YN loved it so much. She also knows that Marshall knows nothing about the bar, so she was completely safe.
Walking towards her normal seat at the bar, she sees that her favourite bartender in the entire world wiping a glass behind the bar. Once Bruno saw her, he beamed a smile in her direction and motioned for her to sit down. He immediately started making her a Manhattan, her favourite drink, and giving her an extra cherry because he knows she loves them.
“Haven’t seen you in a while, darling,” Bruno leans against the bar with a smile on his face, watching as she probably took a larger-than-ladylike gulp of her drink, “Rough day?”
“You know it,” She smiled at him as she slipped one of cherries off the stick and placed it into her mouth, “Thanks for this, Bruno.”
“Anytime, darling.”
To the watching eye, it would’ve been a sad sight to see YN sat by herself having multiple drinks, but it was what she needed. She didn’t know what she was going to go home to tonight and in the few months that she had been married to Marshall she knew that she could be walking into anything.
The last time that she had dared stand up in front of Marshall was a few weeks into her marriage to him, and it had ended up with him smacking her across the face. She didn’t know whether it was because he didn’t know what he signed up for when marrying her and thought that she was just going to be this perfect little wife that took everything that he said with a smile. That wasn’t the case, and YN really received the brunt of that.
That was the only singular time that Marshall had laid his hands on YN, but that was mainly because YN was strategic the next times that she said anything and made sure that she had an escape route planned so that she wouldn’t have to deal with anything like that again. Knowing that if she hadn’t left that office when she did, she would probably have had to endure something that scares her to death – but these were the games that she had to play.
YN didn’t know how long that she had been sat at the bar, but she knew that she had downed three Manhattan’s and Bruno was just placing down her fourth. She smiled at him, but he seemed to linger.
“What is it, Bruno?”
“You seem to have an admirer, Mrs. Miller.”
YN was confused by his words, but she knew that he obviously meant something. What YN didn’t expect was for probably the most handsome man she’d ever seen in her life. He was wearing a pinstripe suit, similar to her own but it was white and grey. His hat rested on the table next to him, and he had a drink which she could guess was whiskey in his hands. The second that he lifted up his drink to his lips, never breaking eye contact with her so she had to.
The second she looked away YN felt a heat rising right up her body. She pressed her hand up to the back of her neck, hoping that her hands were cool enough to spread through her body.
YN knew that she could attract men, but the circle that she was now in (especially being married to Marshall) meant that men sort of avoided her at all costs. However, right now Marshall was nowhere to be seen and every though she was in a place where some people she knows would be, there weren’t any here now. Even though that she could have some fun, she still had to remember that she was married.
That was a little bit difficult when she realised that he was no longer across the room from her but actually stood right next to her. Bruno looked at her once with wide eyes before turning to the stranger that had just invited himself to sit next to her.
“Another drink, Mr. Styles?”
“Please,” He nodded his head, placing his now empty glass on the bar in front of them, “And another one for the lady, on me.”
YN hadn’t notice that she had finished her drink, but once she had placed it down and took one fleeting glance in the stranger’s direction, she found herself heating up all over. She had definitely not expected a British accent. Even though she had quite a few drinks, she wasn’t drunk – maybe just a little tipsy.
“That really isn’t necessary, sir,” She placed her glass down, offered him a small smile and shook her head slightly.
“I think it is,” He nodded, “A beautiful girl shouldn’t be sat alone, paying for her own drinks.”
“Well…” YN had no idea what to say, and that wasn’t a state that she found herself in a lot, “Thank you, sir.”
“No problem,” As he leaned on the bar, turning on his side slightly so that he was looking directly at her she couldn’t help but look, even though every rational part of her brain was telling her not to, “It’s the least I can do.”
When both of their drinks were placed down in front of them, YN made it pretty obvious that she was married by picking up her drink that had her rings on it, and they weren’t rings that anyone could miss. It was Marshall’s second marriage, but he wasn’t sparing any expenses on his much younger bride.
YN watched his face as he realised, a light scoff of a laugh escaping his lips as he picked up his own drink.
“That’s a lovely rock you’ve got on your finger there.”
“Oh,” She extended her hand out in front of her, “This old thing?”
He laughed at her attempt at a joke (which seemed to work) and she couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. The way his face lifted when he laughed, and the dimples that he showed, and don’t even get her started on his hair.
“I must say, I am a little surprised to see a married lady in here without her husband to accompany her.”
“What’s to say he isn’t here? Or that I’m not waiting for him to come?”
“If you are waiting for him, he’s an asshole for making you wait forty minutes.”
The stranger had caught her there, but she made sure that her face was set so that he couldn’t see that he had shocked her.
“Oh, so you have been stalking me now, sir?”
“No, I wouldn’t say stalking,” He laughed, running a hand through his bouncy curls, “More so that I can admire beauty when I see it.”
YN couldn’t lie and say that she wasn’t enjoying the attention that she was receiving – because she very much was. This were the years that she was supposed to be in her prime, and the second that this handsome stranger took one look at her she should have had him in the palm of her hand. That wasn’t the case, as she always had Marshall lingering in the back of her mind.
Even though she knew that Marshall had been unfaithful to her (He was a director in Hollywood, for Christ’s sake) she didn’t know whether she could stoop to that level. There was also the slight issue of what Marshall would do to her, and the other person that was involved. There were so many moving parts to a marriage that was a business action, YN had quickly noticed.
“Anyway, who is this husband of yours? The one who doesn’t even come out for a drink with his wife?”
YN scoffed, slightly taken aback by audacity of this man to ask such a question when he hadn’t even told her his name, “Why would you like to know?”
“Maybe I know him,” He shrugs, “Know a lot of people around her, and I also wouldn’t be opposed to telling him how he’s supposed to treat a beauty like yourself.”
YN couldn’t believe what she is hearing, “Sir, what makes you think I’m just going to tell you my husband’s name and I don’t even know yours.”
“Harry Styles,” He holds his hand out for her, which she accepts with her ring clad hand.
“YN Miller.”
“Miller, that’s right,” He laughs, “I knew I recognised you. I do know who your husband is, Marshall Miller.”
Well, shit. That didn’t exactly go the way she planned, but at the end of the day everyone knew about her and Marshall. From the first time that they had been spotted outside the studio together, to the day that they made their red-carpet debut as a couple – everyone was reading about them.
There were times that it annoyed YN more than she could explain that every time she read an article about herself, the mentions of her acting came second every time to her marriage to Marshall. The marriage gave her the roles she wanted, but not the attention. The role in the new movie would give her the right attention, but if she followed through with the nudity she would be finished as an actress – that’s for sure.
“Of course, you do,” She smiles, “Thank you for the drink, Mr. Styles, but I think I may be off now.”
She grabs her purse and stand ups. As she turns to walk away, she feels a hand grab her wrist. It wasn’t harsh, but just a soft grip to keep her still.
“Look, I may know who your husband is, but my point still stands,” He offers her a smile, “And if you feel like this in the future, my band’s playing at Ciro next week and I’d love to see you there.”
When YN walked into the house she lived in with Marshall, it was eerily silent. YN knew that he was here, because her car was on the driveway, it was just finding him that would be the main issue. YN knew that she wasn’t up for a fight, and that was why she decided to just kick off her heels and make her way upstairs.
Growing up in a small town, in a flat in New York that was as big as the bathrooms in this house meant that there was a lot for YN to get used to. The fact that sometimes she wasn’t even allowed to make her own food, or just clean if she wanted to really got to her. There were small domestic things that she grew up with that she missed, but it meant that she appreciated the people who did even more and treat them much better than Marshall ever did.
As she made her way upstairs, she beelined through the bedroom and into the closet where she knew that Marshall never went. So, imagine her surprise when he was sat there with his tie a mess and his shirt unbuttoned. To say that her husband was twenty years older than her, she couldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t handsome. The problem wasn’t his looks, or even his personality on his good days – but the way he treated people, YN included.
“You’re late,” He muttered into his glass as he lifted it up to his lips, “Where have you been?”
YN didn’t stand and look at him any longer. She started unfastening her necklace and walked over to her dressing table. Unfortunately, the way that the mirror was angled she could still see him staring at her.
“Sorry, I went out,” She placed her jewellery neatly on the side, “I was with Rosie and Sally. You know what it’s like when we get together – the time just runs away with us.”
“Huh,” He scoffs into his glass.
YN felt as though she had been caught, “What?”
“It’s just funny, that’s all,” He leant forward, placing his elbows on his knees, “Because just after you stormed out of my office, I went to find Rosie and Sally to ask where you were, and they hadn’t seen you.”
“I went to the bathroom first, if you really want to know,” She sighed, turning so that she was looking at him, “I went to the bathroom, for a while because I couldn’t believe that my husband was such an asshole and needed to get myself together before I went to find them.”
YN couldn’t believe sometimes that she was such a good bloody actress, on screen and in her daily life. It wasn’t like she couldn’t tell Marshall that she had gone to a bar on her own, but the lingering thought of Harry in the back of her mind and knowing that she didn’t know how well she would have been able to cover that up meant that she had to think on her feet.
Deciding enough was enough, she stood up and started to remove her clothes as she walked into the bathroom ready to take her makeup off.
“Don’t you walk away from me, YN!”
“It wasn’t like you were saying anything, Marshall!”
As she made it into the bathroom, she leant forward on the counter with her hands and sighed. She knew that he wouldn’t be too far behind her, so when he walked in and grabbed her shoulders, tightly and turning her so that she was facing him – she wasn’t that shocked. However, the feeling of his nails pressing into her skin did have her wincing a little bit.
“We didn’t finish our conversation,” He says, and she can smell the alcohol so strong on his breath.
“It sounded like we had, Marshall,” She responded, trying to ignore the feeling of her on his skin.
“I’m not talking about that bullshit in there,” He spits, “I’m talking about the conversation in my office earlier.”
YN prided herself on the fact that not much in this life scared her, but Marshall was the one thing that scared her continuously.
“I told you, Marshall,” Her voice came out a little meeker now, “I’m not doing it.”
“It’s not up for discussion, YN,” He lets out a deep breath, “Think of all the money we’ll get. People want to see you, I mean, who wouldn’t?”
“I’m not doing it Marshall,” She shakes him off her and he stumbles back. He runs a hand over his face and starts to walk in a circle, “I told you; I’m not parading myself just because it’ll get your rocks off seeing me naked on the big screen. I don’t care about the money.”
He stalked closer to her, so that they were almost nose to nose and lifted his hand up and placed his thumb and pointer finger together, “You’re this close, YN. This. Close.”
He was pushing her further and further towards the counter, so that her back was painfully pressed against it, and she couldn’t breathe properly. She knew that there was only one way that was going to be fixed if she didn’t think on her feet.
“Look, Marshall, I’m not going to get fully nude – I won’t,” He let out such a deep breath that his nostrils flared, and she was bracing for impact, she even lifted up her hands, “But that doesn’t mean you can’t do anything.”
He dropped his hands away from her and took a step back, “What do you mean?”
“Why don’t you do what the French are doing, eh?” She shrugged her shoulders, watching as he started to pace, “Why don’t you tease it?” He wasn’t saying anything, so she continued, trying to regulate her breathing as she did so, “The scene, yeah? She’s taking her robe off for him in their bedroom, how about the camera isn’t on her front, but it cuts to her back. And it stops, so it’s teasing her without fully showing everything. It can just be the top of my arse, Marshall.”
When he continues to not say anything, she moves towards him slightly so that he’s stood in front of her.
“Think about Marshall, when everybody knows that may get to see me nude, but they’re teased with it,” She places a light hand on his back, and he turns to look at her, “The money will be even better than if we did show my whole body, because people will be wanting more.”
He nods his head and looks at her with a beaming smile on his face. She squealed slightly as he placed a hand under her thighs and lifted her up, so she was sat on the counter.
“Knew there was a reason I married you,” He smiled, leaning to place a kiss to her neck, “Not just a pretty face, are you?”
Even though she should have been enjoying herself in the company of her husband at this point, the fear that she had felt earlier was still there and for some reason, all she could think about was the curly haired man that she had met earlier.
YN had really debated going to Ciro the following week. There were pros and cons to going, but all she could think of was the shit that her husband had put her through during the week and how she could feel like a young woman if she went and saw the man, she had met the prior week.
It didn’t take long for that decision to be made for her when she had been speaking to Rosie and Sally earlier and it had somehow been brought up in conversation that she had received an invitation by Harry Styles himself to watch him in Ciro and the two of them had almost burst in excitement at that revelation.
That’s what lead YN to be stood outside the queue of Ciro, Sally and Rosie in tow as she finally made it towards the front. The was a man stood outside the door with a clipboard, and the largest man that YN had ever seen in her life.
“Name?”
YN had no idea that she was supposed have her name on a list, and she knew it was probably very unlikely that her name was on the list.
“Uh, YN Miller.”
“Oh,” The man with the clipboard seemed shocked when he looked up to see her stood there, “I’m very sorry, Mrs. Miller. Mr. Styles has reserved a table for you. I’ll show you there now.”
Even though YN was a little shocked and surprised, with one fleeting glance and Sally and Rosie she nodded and followed the man into the club. This wasn’t her first time in Ciro’s, but it was the first time she had been, and it was so packed. YN was convinced that they had even put extra tables in.
“This is for you, Mrs. Miller. The best seats in the house,” He smiled and pulled her chair out for her.
“Thank you,” She smiled politely.
“Please let us know if we can get you anything,” He smiled, “Mr. Styles has left a bottle of champagne for you and your guests.”
“Thank you.”
When the man walked away, and a waiter came over to open the champagne she couldn’t believe what was happening around her. Rosie and Sally looked as though they were going to burst (for the second time that day). Once the glasses were poured and the waiter had moved away, YN turned to her friends with wide eyes.
“I had no idea that this was going to happen,” She laughed, picking up the glass in front of her, “But I’m not complaining.”
“How did you even meet this man?” Rosie asks, picking up her own glass.
“I told you!” YN laughs, “I met him at Bruno’s. I was sat on my own and he joined, that’s it.”
“You must have made a lasting impression to receive a reserved table, and a bottle of champagne, YN.”
YN laughed, “I honestly didn’t. I forgot that it had happened until you mentioned him earlier.”
That was a lie, and a big one at that. YN had spent the last week toying with herself. Every time Marshall was nice, she felt guilty for even considering it, but the second he went back to his own ways she wanted to go even more. Today they had filmed the scene that had caused all those arguments and if that hadn’t made her completely sure that she was going, then the conversation with Sally and Rosie earlier surely did.
What YN hadn’t realised from their conversation was that Harry was just as famous as she was in Hollywood, and probably the world. YN even knew some of his songs (Sally and Rosie were big fans), but she had never seen his face or known his name so she couldn’t correlate the two together.
“I think you forget that we know you, YN,” Sally adds, “And we can tell that something has been on your mind.”
“It was nice, okay?” YN shrugs, “That was it. Nice to feel like I wasn’t a twenty-two-year-old married woman for once, and that someone was interested in me. Now shut up so we can watch the show and enjoy.”
YN knew that Harry was talented just by the few songs that she had heard, but nothing could have prepared her for hearing him live. The way that Harry commanded the stage, and how everyone in the room was just mesmerised by him when he opened his mouth was something that nobody could prepare her for.
YN didn’t know how long that he was singing for, but she didn’t look anywhere but him. It was about halfway through when he noticed her, and even had to do a double take just to make sure that she was actually there. It made her laugh, and he couldn’t hide her smile. He didn’t stop though; it was as though he was born to be on that stage, and everybody was eating it up.
Just before the end of his set, he called one of the waiters over to the bottom of the stage and whispered something in his ear. YN couldn’t help but be intrigued at what he had said, but the ending of his and the standing ovation ended that quickly.
“Thank you everyone, and thank you Crio for being lovely hosts,” He smiles, pushing his hair back of his face, “I’m Harry Styles, and we’ll be here for the next few nights if you’re interested in coming again. Thank you!”
As he and his band left the stage, YN couldn’t help the beaming smile that was on her face. All of the worries that she had in the world didn’t matter at this point, because she had one of the best nights of her life.
“Sorry, Mrs. Miller,” YN nodded and leaned closer to the waiter so that she could hear him over the chatter in the room, “Mr. Styles has invited you and your party backstage.”
“Oh,” YN looked at Rosie and Sally to see their opinion on the matter, and their beaming smiles suggested that it was maybe a good idea, “Thank you, yes.”
The girls picked up their purses and followed the waiter through a side door, and down a long corridor until they were stood in front of a door that said ‘H.Styles’ on it. He knocked twice before opening the door, revealing Harry and his band sat on the sofas with drinks in their hands.
“Mr. Styles, your guests.”
As Harry realised that it was YN walking in, he immediately stood up and made his way over to her.
“Mrs. Miller, a pleasure,” He placed a kiss to her hand, which had her biting her lip. He then turned to the waiter and thanked him before turning back to her, “Thank you for joining me, and I’d like to thank your guests for coming too.”
Once introductions had been made throughout the entire group, Rosie and Sally found them conversing with Harry’s guitarist, Mitch, and drummer, Sarah. YN was sat on a sofa with the man himself, a Manhattan in her hand that Harry had ordered without a blink of his eye. YN had almost known Marshall a year and he still couldn’t get her drink right. He had even remembered the extra cherries.
“So,” He smiled, sipping his own drink, “Did you enjoy the show?”
“I did,” She laughed, “Who know there was so much talent hiding behind all that hair?”
He laughed, and YN couldn’t help but joining in. There was an ease about talking to him, as though she didn’t have to worry about anything that she said because she knew that there wouldn’t be a single repercussion.
“But in all seriousness, Mr. Styles,” She smiled, “Thank you. It was an amazing show, and you were ever so generous to us.”
“No need for the Mr. Styles here, Mrs. Miller,” He shook his head, “Please just call me, Harry.”
“Only if you promise to call me, YN,” She smiled, “Mrs. Miller makes me sound so old.”
He laughed, shaking his head, “I don’t think I should comment on that.”
“No, I don’t think you should either.”
The conversation just flowed between them. They discussed their childhoods – when YN realised, she wanted to be an actress, and when Harry realised, he wanted to be singer. There was never a lull in the conversation, and she laughed in a way that she hadn’t for a while. Not only was this man handsome and talented, but he was funny as well? It was as though YN couldn’t catch a break.
“I’m going to go out for a smoke,” He placed his drink down and stood up, “Would you like to join me?”
YN didn’t even hesitate before agreeing. She stood up and followed the man outside, watching as he lit his cigarette and blew it out in such a way that she was almost having to cross her legs. YN wanted to feel guilty, she really did – but she just couldn’t.
“Should you really be doing that?” She asked, accepting the cigarette from him, “Doesn’t it ruin your voice?”
“I probably shouldn’t,” He shrugged, and YN couldn’t help the butterflies in her stomach as she wrapped her lips around the cigarette where his own had just been, “But, as they say, it’s easier to start them then stop them.”
YN laughed and passed it back to Harry. She leant against the wall, moving a rock around lightly with her shoe. There was one question that she had wanted to ask Harry since getting her, but she just hadn’t had the nerve to until now, since he was alone with just her.
“Harry?” She asked, looking up at him as he hummed and nodded in her direction, “Why did you invite me here?”
“What do you mean?” He shrugged, moving closer to YN so that he was stood leant on the wall near where she was stood.
“Well, you could’ve invited anyone to come and watch you. It isn’t as though your limited on options,” YN shrugged, “It isn’t as though there’s a romantic element between us, seeing as though I’m married.”
“There isn’t?”
“Excuse me?” YN couldn’t help the furrow in her eyebrows at his words. She truly had no idea what he was getting at by saying what he did.
“I’m just a little confused by you saying that there isn’t a romantic element between us,” He shrugs, dropping the cigarette on the ground and stubbing it with his shoe, “I’m just a little confused, married or not, why you would come if you didn’t feel anything.”
“There is such thing as a man and woman being friends, Harry.”
“Is that all this is, YN?” He asks, and YN has to ignore the flips in her stomach as he walks towards her, stopping just inches away from her, “Friends?”
“Harry –”
“If friends are all you see this as, then friends are all we’ll be,” He says, not taking his eyes away from hers, “But I can’t lie and say that I don’t really want to kiss you right now.”
Even though YN should be thinking of Marshall right now, her husband, all she can think about is how it would feel to kiss Harry. More specifically, right at this very second. There had never been any attraction (on her part, anyway) between herself and Marshall, but that wasn’t the case between herself and Harry. In all honesty, she doesn’t think she’s ever been attracted to anyone like she is with Harry. It made it so much easier that there wasn’t just an attraction, but an ease when they talked as well – as though she could say anything to him.
“We won’t do anything you don’t want to do, YN, I promise.”
“You still didn’t answer my question, Harry,” She noted, “Why me? Out of everyone you’re seeking out the one thing that you can’t really have.”
“It may be wrong, but I know what I feel YN, and I think you feel the same way.”
Even though YN hesitated before saying the next words, he was right. YN did feel the same way, and even though it was wrong she couldn’t help it. She felt guilty, but maybe if Marshall was nicer to her, she may not have been able to go through with it.
YN nodded her head lightly, whispering, “I do feel the same way.”
Those words were all it took for Harry to lean forward and place his lips on hers. The feeling of Harry kissing her, and his hands on her skin were unlike anything she’d ever felt before in her life. YN couldn’t remember the last time she kissed someone that wasn’t on-screen or her husband, and it felt nice to kiss someone that she wanted to. His hands on her cheek, and she gripped his shirt to pull him closer to her.
YN was the first to pull away, mainly because she was running out of breath, but she couldn’t help the smile that etched across her lips. Harry had one on his too, a boyish smile that she just wanted to kiss off his lips.
She let out a sigh and dropped her head back against the brick of the wall behind her, “Shit.”
The next time YN saw Harry was a week later. Marshall was out at meal with some of his friends, and she had claimed that she wasn’t up for socialising and was just going to go home to bed. What Marshall didn’t know was that she was going over to Harry’s apartment that he rented whilst he was in town.
For about a week after she and Harry kissed against the wall around the back of Ciro’s she had felt ever so guilty. It was only until around halfway through the week that YN walked into his office and his secretary was just leaving and he not only had his tie askew, but he also had lipstick around his face and the entire room smelt of sex. YN decided that the best thing she could do was to ignore it, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t noticed it.
It meant that she was more excited to see Harry and have an intellectual conversation with him and just enjoy herself. It was nice to feel wanting, and that’s what Harry made her feel.
That’s why she was enjoying herself more than she was going to admit, sitting at his dining table as she watched him flounce around the kitchen making sure that everything was made for their dinner to perfection. It wouldn’t have been the best decision for them to go out, seeing as though anyone could have spotted them so Harry had offered to cook, and YN wasn’t going to say no.
“Just you wait,” He smiled at her as he drained out the water from the pasta, “This is going to blow your mind – the best pasta you’ve ever had.”
“Is that so?” She grinned, “Well, we’ll just have to see. I’ve had my fair share of amazing meals if I do say so myself.”
“Nothing like this, darling,” He grinned, shaking the pasta out, “I promise.”
There was something about watching him in the kitchen that YN could get used to. The little apron he had one, and the slightly flustered state that he was in. She was smiling throughout the entire time he was in the kitchen, and also afterwards when they were eating.
In all honesty, it was one of the best meals that YN had every had. He had made pasta in a tomato sauce with chicken and peppers, and she was enjoying every mouthful. She would never tell Harry that was the case, but by the way she finished her entire plate he maybe had a slight suspicion that was the case.
Throughout the entire meal, the tension that was brewing between the two of them was becoming slightly unbearable. It also didn’t help that she had a glass of red wine (which she doesn’t normally drink) and her cheeks were burning throughout the entire thing.
YN had offered to clean up the plates, but Harry shook his head and took them from her. She thought she was going to have to sit and watch him clean up the plates, but he just placed them in the sink and made his way over to her. It didn’t take long for him to be stood right in front of her and lean down to peck her on the lips.
YN lifted her hands up to wrap around his neck and that was all he needed to place his hands under her thighs and scoop her up, ignoring everything around them as he placed her upon his dining room table. As they pulled away, YN couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips. He raised one of his eyebrows at her.
“You laughing at me?” Harry speaks, leaning down to pressed kisses along her exposed neck, “Sure you want to be doing that?”
“I don’t know,” She shrugs, “What are you going to do if I do?”
He tugged her closer to him by her ankles, so that her legs were spread around his waist, “Just you wait and see.”
YN lifts her bum up slightly so that he can pull her trousers and panties down in one swoop. It felt strange to YN to be this bare in front of someone who wasn’t her husband, but the way that Harry was looking at her stopped all of the worries within her head.
Harry knelt down on the floor, so he was exactly face height with her. He placed kisses along her thighs as he made his way towards the part of her that she really needed him at. YN’s chest was rising and falling so quickly that she felt as though she may combust at any moment, but she knew that she had to keep it together. Once he had made it to that delicious spot between her legs, he couldn’t help but lean forward and place a kiss right on her wetness. Even the slightest of touch had YN withering – she honestly couldn’t believe how sensitive she was.
“Please, Harry,” Her back was beginning to arch off the table at how he was teasing her, “Please.”
“Please, what?” He asked, looking up at her with a grin on his face, “What do you want, love?”
“I want you to touch me, please.”
“Your wish is my command,” Without even a single hesitation, Harry leant forward and crashed his mouth right into her.
The feeling of his tongue against her, and his legs pushing her thighs apart, so she was completely exposed to him had her head dropping back in ecstasy. YN felt as though she was flooded down there, and he seemed to lap ever drop up with no complaints. It wasn’t until he started to swirl his tongue around her clit that she truly felt shock-waves throughout her body.
YN physically couldn’t arch her back off the table any further, and her head drops back with quite a heavy thump but all she could think about was the feeling of him along her sensitive nerve. He continues to flick her clit over and over, making sure that no matter how much she wanted to close her legs that she couldn’t. Not knowing what to grab, she reached forward and thread her fingers through his hair. Her mouth parted, and her breathing started to become more and more heavy, and her heart was beating faster than it ever had before.
YN had never felt anything like this before in her life. Obviously, her and Marshall have had sex in the past, but it was all about him and never about her. YN had never had somebody lick her there before, and in all honestly, she could get used to it more often.
“Oh, God, Harry!” He continued to attack her clit, and as he quickened the pace of his tongue, she knew that she wasn’t going to last much longer. YN had never felt so turned on in her life, and this wonderful man in between her legs was who she had to thank for that.
Harry is indicated that YN is close by the way her thighs started to tremble, and he tried his hardest to keep them still with pressure on them. Knowing that she’s so close, he works harder to make sure that she gets there. He switches between licking to sucking to then even flicking her clit quickly with his tongue. YN is fully pushed over the edge when he sneakily pushes one of his fingers into her, not stopping his attack of her clit.
“Harry!”
The sound of his name tumbling from her mouth only spurs him on further. YN’s orgasm ripples through her body, and her back arches so far off the table until she’s fully sat up. Even though she would want nothing more than to be looking at Harry, she physically can’t, and her eyes are firmly clamped shut. YN was gripping his hair so tight that it must have been painful for him, but she was so out of it that she had no idea.
YN’s body jerks as he pulls his mouth off of her, and slowly removes his fingers. Almost automatically, her weak knees buckle, and she’s propelled forward into his chest. He happily catches her and moves some of her damp hair off her face. When she finally opens her eyes, he’s beaming down at her with a smile on his face.
“Hi,” She smiles, trying to push herself deeper into Harry’s chest if that was even possible.
“Hi, darling,” He laughs, placing a kiss to the top of her head, “That good?”
“So good,” She lifts her head up to look at him and accepts a kiss to her lips, “Never felt like that before, Harry.”
“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?”
“Very.”
The very idea of going home right now was the last thing on YN’s mind. In fact, she would rather do anything else that have to go back to Marshall in all of his glory. There was no chance that YN would ever be as comfortable with Marshall as she is with Harry.
The conversation just flowed so easily between them, and YN felt happy. It was such a shame that she couldn’t just stay and that she did have to go home. That didn’t stop Harry from giving her the hardest kiss she’d ever received before she left, so hard that she could feel her lips tingling from it when she stepped through the front door of her house.
A few weeks later when YN was called into Marshall’s office she couldn’t lie and say that there wasn’t a spring in her step.
The night after her first time at Harry’s, YN had been giggling at the memory at the most random times throughout the day. YN had been fast asleep in bed when Marshall had come home, and he had left when she woke up meaning that she hadn’t had to see him. His side of the bed had been obviously slept on last night, meaning that he had at least come home but she had no idea in what state.
Due to the fact that she had been teased by Harry at the experience of being with him, she wanted to be with him at any chance she got. That meant that whenever YN got any chance to sneak away from her real life and go see Harry, she did. YN was enjoying being with Harry so much, that it started to become so difficult to go home to Marshall who she knew would never make her feel the way that Harry did.
YN had no idea why she was being called into Marshall’s office, but when she saw the set look on his face the smile immediately dropped off her face.
“Take a seat, YN,” This certainly didn’t feel as though this was a husband talking to his wife.
“Everything okay?”
The second she sat down; Marshall slapped a newspaper down in front of her. YN reached forward to grab it and her heart immediately dropped to the put of her stomach at the headline across the main page of the newspaper.
Hollywood’s married sweetheart seen leaving rock-star Harry Styles’ apartment multiple times over the last few weeks.
They had been caught. YN couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t even as though they had been caught by Marshall, they had been caught by the media. YN didn’t know at this point if she would have rather been caught by Marshall and not have the whole world find out about it before she was ready for anyone else to.
YN was terrified to look up at Marshall. She didn’t know what to expect when she looked up at him from behind the paper. The second she did feel the confidence to place it down, YN felt as though anything could happen with the look on Marshall’s face.
“Is it true?”
“Marshall I –”
“Is it true?” The next time he asks he shouts at her, and the loud bang of his fist on his table had her jumping in her seat.
There was no way that she could lie. If she did, he was going to see right through her, and she had no idea how he would react to it. So, she decided to just tell the truth, no matter how difficult it may be.
“Yes,” Her voice came out as a whisper, but the look on Marshall’s face saw that he had heard her. She was so thankful that there was a desk between them because she had no idea what would happen if that wasn’t the case.
“Do you know what this means for us, YN?” He spits at her, “Do you know?”
“I’m so sorry, Marshall,” The tears were starting to collect in her eyes, “I really am.”
“You don’t get to be sorry, YN,” He dropped his hand on the table again, “You’re the one that’s been fucking everything you see.”
“It was one time, Marshall!” YN exclaimed and even though she was crying, there was an anger to her words as well, “Not like you. You’re the one who fucks everything you see, Marshall!”
“This isn’t about me, YN!” He stands up, both of his hands upon the desk, “This is about you, and what you’ve been doing.”
“So, you can fuck anybody that you want to for the entire time that we’ve been married, but the second that I find someone who cares about me and wants to be with me, I’m the worse one in this relationship?”
“You belong to me YN!” He exclaims, “Me! Not the fucking rockstar that you’ve been getting your rocks off with.”
“I belong to you?” She asks, unable to believe what she was hearing, “And do you not belong to me, Marshall?”
“We all known that isn’t the case, YN,” He shrugs, “I’m a director in Hollywood. I’m the best of the best. I can do whatever the fuck I want.”
“Okay, Marshall,” That was all that it takes for YN to stand up, trying not to let him stop her from what she was about to do. Without any hesitation, YN pulls her wedding and engagement ring off of her hand and places it on the table in front of them. YN could see Marshall’s nostril’s flaring and she tried to ignore it but there was no way that she was going to get out of this unharmed, “We’re done.”
“That’s not your decision to make, YN.”
“It is, Marshall,” She shook her head at him, “I’m not putting up with this anymore, and you’re not going to stop me.”
“I think you’re forgetting that you have a contract with this studio.”
“For five films, Marshall,” YN spits, “And what film did we just finish – number five or did you forget?”
The look on his face that he knew she was right was all that YN needed to make her way towards the door. Just as she threw the door open, she was stopped right in her tracks by a glass breaking just by her head. Even though YN knew that the glass had cut her, and she could feel the sting over her body – she couldn’t stop now.
YN only hesitated for a second and she was out of that door and slamming it behind her.
“Get back here, YN!” Marshall shouted so loudly that the entire studio probably heard them, “We’re not done.”
They were, and YN knew that her life now had changed but she was ready for anything that it flew at her. She knew that even though she was now on her own, she wasn’t.
It didn’t take her long to fly home in her car, probably running every red light as she did. Hopefully she wouldn’t get pulled over by anyone but there was the possibility that she could be. The second she got to the house, she rushed up to her closet and grabbed everything that she could. Everything that could fit in her bag that she cared about, including her jewellery from her mother and all of her personal belongings.
The feeling of fleeing with her bag down the steps and out of her house reminded her of when she left home to come to Hollywood in the first place. It was almost a year ago that she moved, and here she was praying that the next year of her life wasn’t like this one.
It didn’t take her long to leave the house and make her way towards Harry’s house. The entire time she cried. It felt as though a part of her life was over, and not only that but she didn’t know how she was going to continue in her career. Her marriage and possibly her career was over in the space of one decision. She was going to have to work in the future, but all she needed now was to find Harry and make everything right.
The second she was outside Harry’s door, knocking on it and he saw her tattered and upset state, with a bag clutched in her hand he didn’t even hesitate before pulling her into his arms.
“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “I’ve got you.”
The second that Harry had seen her, tears streaming down her face and cuts on her arms and legs he was absolutely fuming. He immediately pulled her into his arms and carried her towards the bathroom where he placed her on the counter with such ease so he could start tending to her.
As he was cleaning up the cuts, he kept looking at her with a nervousness, “Are you going to tell me what happened?”
There was a gap between his question and her response, but when he noticed that there were tears rolling down her face, he decided not to question her further until she was ready to answer all of his questions.
“I left him,” She muttered quietly after a while. Harry had anticipated it, but he didn’t want to pry.
“And he did this?” YN didn’t say anything, but the timid nod of her head gave him everything that he needed.
In all of the time that Harry had known YN, he had never known her so timid in all of his life. It was as though the events that had transpired had really knocked her, and she had no idea how to bring herself back from it.
“I’m going to kill him,” Harry shook his head, surprised by how angry he was at the news that she had just told him.
“No,” She shook her head and clawed at his shirt until he was facing her again, “I just need you with me, please don’t leave me.”
“I’m never going to leave you,” He leant down and placed a kiss to her forehead, “I never will.”
Regaining the popularity that YN had before when she worked at Marshall’s wasn’t as difficult as she thought it may have been. It had turned out that even though she was now divorced and had left the studio that the majority of the people in Hollywood saw as failure in this town, she found a studio just around the corner that was happy to take her.
The difference that YN found was that there was that due to the relationships being completely professional, they actually listened to what she had to say. She even had a clause in her contract that stated no nudity, and it was the best thing that YN had ever seen in black and white in front of her.
Every premiere that she had been to before this was, she had been cast in Marshall’s shadow, but this one was all about her and she was going to make sure that it was known. The dress that she had chosen was a beautiful baby pink with a skirt laced with feathers that had so much movement all she wanted to do was twirl around it.
“You look gorgeous,” Harry had said to her when he had seen her come out of the bathroom, fully dressed, and looking like the most beautiful person on this earth, “How did I get so lucky with you?”
“How did you get so lucky with me? I think that it’s I got lucky with you.”
Ever since she divorced Marshall in the previous year, Harry had been by her side. He hadn’t actually left it. For the first few months they had lived in his apartment before deciding that it was time that they actually bought a house. There had been a few moments where Harry had to leave to go to another state for a show, but he always came back to her.
This premiere for her latest film was the first time that the two of them had been seen out in public together, as a proper couple. It was a little nerve-wracking for YN, and for Harry as this was the first red carpet that he had ever walked but he wanted to be there for her and support her.
This was the last time that they were going to be together for a while, as the next day he was going on tour. YN originally had planned to go with him, but she had been given the script for a new film and there was no way that she was missing out on it. It was going to be the film of the century she believed, that was if she had anything to do with it.
It was strange being with someone who had such a real love for watching her succeed. YN was so nervous when she went home after receiving the script but the second, she had showed him the script and explained to him how excited she was about it, he had grabbed her face and kissed all of the worry out of her.
“You ready?” He smiled at her, lifting her hand up to his mouth to press a kiss to her hand.
She laughed and smiled at his antics, “As I’ll ever be.”
“Good,” He leaned forward and placed a small kiss to her lips, wanting to not mess up her lipstick, “Let’s get this done then.”
He climbed out of the car first and YN could hear the screaming from the second that he opened the car. Even though this was a movie premiere, it was obvious that there were some of his fans in the crowd. Her door was the next to open and she stepped out, waving to the people as she did so. Everybody seemed so happy to see her, and she couldn’t lie and say that she wasn’t slightly nervous about the entire thing. The nerves disappeared the second Harry came to stand next to her, and she placed her arm through his and they started to walk together. It just felt so right, and so natural to be doing this with Harry.
“YN!” A reporter called from across the carpet at her, and with Harry in tow she made her way over to him. YN recognised him (probably from a previous red carpet), “How are you tonight?”
“I’m well, thank you for asking,” She smiled, really trying to remember all of her media training that she had been given.
“You look absolutely stunning tonight, and we’re all so excited to see the movie.”
“Thank you so much, I’m very excited for you all to see it. It’s amazing if I do say so myself.”
“It’s your movie, of course you can say that!” The reporter laughed with her, “But I do just have to mention, in the last year you really found yourself in the backend of the glitz and glamour of Hollywood, are you afraid that’s going to shine over the film?”
YN couldn’t believe how cutthroat the reporter was straight away, but she tried to ignore it to the best that she could and answered the question the best way she knew how.
“It has certainly been a difficult past year for me, but I’m so excited to be working and have this beautiful film for you all to see,” She smiled, basically ignoring everything that he said, “I’m happy, and I hope this film makes some other people happy. Thank you.”
“Thank you, YN.”
YN immediately grabbed Harry’s arm again, and they beelined for the entrance. It was the first time that she had ever spoken of the events of last year, and she was praying that she had done okay.
“How was that? Did I answer it? Should I have said anything else?”
The second that they were in the safety of the building, she really let go of all of the questions that were swirling around in her head. Harry laughed and leaned forward to place a kiss on her lips.
“You were amazing darling, don’t even worry about it.”
“Oh, I’m so glad you think so, I was so nervous.”
“I know you were,” He laughed, wrapping his arm around her, “Now how about we get some popcorn and go see this fantastic film that you’re in?”
a/n: hey guys! Hope you enjoy! Lmk what you think and if u wanna be added to the taglist so you’re notified when i update!
Conrad’s quiet music accompanies us on our drive to the pier. It wasn’t too far from the house, I remember seeing it as we drove into town only a few days before. It’s cliche, but it really does feel like it was forever ago that we arrived. Forever ago when I didn’t know Conrad existed, Josh was still the asshole that left me, and I was doomed to a summer alone with the prospect of Columbia spinning down the garbage disposal. Now, I’m sitting in the car with a boy that I kissed less than 12 hours ago and Josh still loves me and I can’t help but wonder if I still love him but my hand pulls towards Conrad’s as it dangles off the end of the middle console of the car. Maybe one day we’ll find ourselves back to each other.
Conrad’s quiet music accompanies us on our drive to the pier. It wasn’t too far from the house, I remember seeing it as we drove into town only a few days before. It’s cliche, but it really does feel like it was forever ago that we arrived. Forever ago when I didn’t know Conrad existed, Josh was still the asshole that left me, and I was doomed to a summer alone with the prospect of Columbia spinning down the garbage disposal. Now, I’m sitting in the car with a boy that I kissed less than 12 hours ago and Josh still loves me and I can’t help but wonder if I still love him but my hand pulls towards Conrad’s as it dangles off the end of the middle console of the car. Maybe one day we’ll find ourselves back to each other.
Conrad’s quiet music accompanies us on our drive to the pier. It wasn’t too far from the house, I remember seeing it as we drove into town only a few days before. It’s cliche, but it really does feel like it was forever ago that we arrived. Forever ago when I didn’t know Conrad existed, Josh was still the asshole that left me, and I was doomed to a summer alone with the prospect of Columbia spinning down the garbage disposal. Now, I’m sitting in the car with a boy that I kissed less than 12 hours ago and Josh still loves me and I can’t help but wonder if I still love him but my hand pulls towards Conrad’s as it dangles off the end of the middle console of the car. Maybe one day we’ll find ourselves back to each other.
“So, what is this boat’s name?” I ask. I need to talk to get out of my head. I need him to talk so I don’t hear Josh’s voice telling me that he loves me.
“Well,” he laughs as if there’s a story here. Hopefully a very long one that makes his voice sound familiar and like background noise I could listen to forever. That’s what I need right now. Someone to talk and talk until their breath runs out. “My sailing boat’s name is the Unsinkable.”
“How come?” Where’s the story? There’s always a story.
“Remember when you told me you were afraid of the water?” I nod. “Well, when I was really young I used to be afraid of boats. My dad always wanted on and when we were young, he actually built one with me and Jeremiah. I was too scared to get on it and he always told me it was unsinkable.” He smiles to himself. I wish I could see the scene play out in his mind. “I don’t know how true that is, but.” He shrugs his shoulders and the fond smile washes away from his face. “That was a long time ago.”
“So how come that boat isn’t named the Unsinkable?” I ask.
“Jeremiah wanted to call it Shark Bait.” I laugh. Loud. Conrad glances over at my from the driver’s seat and can’t help but laugh, too. “It’s still docked at this pier. We just never use it. It’s not a good boat.”
“It floats?” I ask. My cheeks hurt because now I’m smiling and I feel like I can’t stop. Conrad nods and says yeah of course it floats like it was obvious and I reply: “Then it’s a good boat.”
He gives me a grateful smile. His eyes tell me that no one has ever told him that before and maybe no one has had the chance to tell him. Belly always told me that Conrad didn’t get along with his dad very much. That lately they’ve been fighting but he sounded fond of him just now and I didn’t want to crush that. I know what it’s like to find fleeting moments of love for your parents. “I didn’t know that Adam ever came during the summer. Besides the Fourth. At least, that’s what Belly has always told me,” I say. I hate that I say it but I’m curious and I hate that I’m curious. Summer was for the girls and the kids, she used to tell me. She’d beam so bright it would knock out the sun while she talked about it, carefully picking out each piece of clothing. For Conrad. I look back out the window at the ocean as it passes by. Guilt. That’s what I’m feeling.
“He usually doesn’t. It was when we were young and I think they were going through a hard time so she let him come up for the first month. It was the first and only time he spent more than a weekend in Cousins and I don’t think my mom liked it very much. Jeremiah has fond memories of that summer, though.”
“And you?”
“I remember him yelling at us a lot because we were doing stuff wrong. I remember him pushing me to get on it even after I told him I was scared and then I remember getting over it and then him yelling at me whenever I took it out without his permission. We only took it on the water once that summer.” His voice is quiet like he’s telling me a secret and I wonder how many people know this story. “I guess I can thank him for helping me get over that fear. Wouldn’t be sailing today without it, right?” He turns up the end of his mouth trying to lighten the mood but it feels heavy between us right now.
“Have you taken it out since?” I ask him as he turns the corner down a gravel road. Further down the street is the pier with only a few cars in the parking lot. A couple of boats have their lights on, other people getting ready to watch the sunset I assume and there’s a small store with an OPEN sign flashing in the window and a sign that reads FRESH BAIT.
“Yeah, I do occasionally. It’s not much of an ocean boat, really. But it does the job.” He pulls into a parking spot and shuts off the ignition. “We’re here.” He turns off the car and we sit in the jarring silence. The birds are awake, I notice.
I feel like I need to say something. Something to even out this conversation even though he didn’t ask for it and instead of getting out of the car, I say, “my mom used to yell at me, too. Whenever she’d sign me up for some new class or enroll me in some new sport. She’d always tell me I wasn’t trying hard enough but my body wasn’t build for basketball, you know?” I let out a choked laugh and Conrad laughs through his nose. “She’d yell at me for anything and everything and that’s why I always quit. Because I thought she’d stop yelling at me but she’d just find something new. I think she was projecting.” I don’t want to look over at him but I feel his eyes on me.
“Why are you telling this?” I can’t tell if his voice is quiet because he’s whispering or if because it got too quiet too quickly and his voice just sounds louder in the silence of the ocean.
“Because you told me about your dad.” I finally look at him. He doesn’t look at me with pity like most people do when I tell them about my mom. He just looks like he understands. “And I want you to know that I understand.” I pause, swallow my tears, and continue. “I understand what it’s like to not really like your parent.”
His mouth twitches and I think he wants to smile but he doesn’t. He clears his throat and nods and that’s the end of the conversation. I let out of a sigh of relief. “Are you ready to go?” He asks eventually and I nod.
He gets out of the car and opens up the backseat, grabbing a picnic basket and a blanket. “What’s all that?” I ask suspiciously, cocking my head to the side and raising my eyebrows. Conrad blushes and shoves the picnic basket in my direction, motioning me to grab it. I wrap my hands around the handle and it hits my hip bone.
“Don’t make it a big deal,” he says as he starts to walk down the parking lot toward the wooden pier. I can’t help but laugh as I follow him and I can see him shaking his head at me. He stops at the fourth boat, a beautiful white sailboat with white seats and navy blue trim. The Unsinkable. He raises his eyebrows at me, asking for my approval of the boat. I nod and smile.
“Where’s Shark Bait?” I ask. He smiles wide and nods further down the pier. My eyes travel along the boats all docked in a row until I see a small, wooden boat at the very end. It seems extra small in comparison to the sailboats but I can see its name painted on the side.
Conrad gets on the boat, making it rock on the water. My eyes follow the waves that crash on the sides of the boat and I feel a shiver run up my spin.“Come on,” he tells me. I don’t look up at him. I can’t. I know the water isn’t that deep, it can’t be. But the pier feels less sturdy than it did a few minutes ago. You okay?” He asks me, making me look up. I nod my head but I can’t speak. “Come here, give me the basket.” He reaches out to me and I hand it over. With my hands free, I don’t know what to do with them. I wring out my fingers and pick at my nail. Conrad sets the basket down and reaches out again. “Come here.”
I put my hand in his and his fingers wrap around my hand. He counts to 3 and then hoists me up onto the boat. I close my eyes as he pulls me over the water. Even when both feet are planted on the floor and I no longer feel the boat moving, I don’t open my eyes. Conrad puts his hands on my shoulders and he rubs them up and down causing a wave of heat to spread down my arms. “Look at me,” he coaxes. I do as he asks and see nothing but concern on his face. Concern for me.
“I’m okay,” I say. He doesn’t seem to believe me and holds my eye contact for a few more moments before he lets go of me. I look around and try not to think about all the many ways this boat could sink. I sit down as close to the pier as I can and grip the sides of the boat.
“I thought you said that being on a boat would be fine,” he teases. I narrow my eyes at him and tap my toe against his leg. He smiles at me and nods toward the pier. “Help me untie this stuff, okay?” I nod, grateful for a distraction from the water. I lean over the side of the boat to see where he’s pointing at and I see a black floaty hitting the side of the boat. “We have to untie this from the pier, see?” I follow the rope to the dock where it’s attached to a metal post. “I use a knot called a bowline to tie it,” he tells me as he undoes the tie. The boat floats away from the dock a little bit, the front of the boat pointing toward the sea.
I follow him down the boat as he heads toward the rear and he asks me, “you wanna undo this one?”
“I don’t know how,” I say.
“You, the child prodigy, don’t know how to untie a bowtie?” I narrow my eyes at him and brush him off, making him laugh. It’s a sound I want to hear over and over again. I realize that I want to make him laugh again. “Come on, I’ll teach you.”
He starts to undo the tie until it’s loose, then he makes me do it. I hold the knot in my head and go under and over whenever he tells me to until it’s just two pieces of rope. “I did it!”
“You did it!” His hands grab my waist, turning me away from the pier to look at him. He’s smiling and his fingers dig gently into my skin. “Not so bad, huh?” He asks. I shake my head and he lets go of me too soon. He sits down in the driver's seat, turning on the lights at the front of the boat and turning on the motor. The light illuminates the water in a way that the moon can’t. It makes it brighter, sweeter. I can almost taste it.
He tells me to sit down so I do and he starts driving the boat out into the water. The shakiness doesn’t bother me anymore and it’s not that bad as he drives. I just look up at the sky instead of down below. I can feel his eyes on me. They’re burning a hole in the side of my head and my lips twitch as I try not to smile.
“Where are we going?” I ask him mostly to give my mouth something to do other than what they want to do.
“I have a spot,” he says. I raise my eyebrows at him but he doesn’t look at me, he just continues to drive the boat. We drive until we’re surrounded by nothing but water and the darkness. It was starting to get light out, like a soft grey washing over the ocean. Conrad stopped driving so we were just floating idily in the water. It’s not so bad when I don’t look at it. He spins himself around in his chair to face me, our knees hitting. He doesn’t move them. “Is this your spot?” I ask him.
“Okay, so I don’t have a spot. But there’s a perfectly clear view of the sky for the sunrise.” He opens his arms up at the sky. I can see the sun peeking its head out over the water line.
“Do you bring all the girls here?” I tease. Conrad moves to sit down next to me and he slings his arm over my shoulders. I immediately regret the question. I look up at him and he’s so close to me, I can see every imperfection in his skin. The stubble that’s beginning to grow on his chin. He smiles and shakes his head. When he looks at me, nothing else seems to matter. My mind goes uiet. Columbia doesn’t exist. My mom is a mom. Josh is still an asshole. Nothing is confusing.
“There are no other girls.”
“Other?” I raise my eyebrows. “Meaning there’s one?” He shrugs as if that’s an answer. Of course there’s one. “Who says there’s one.” I’m trying to be coy. Tease him and make him think that I don’t want him because I can’t want him.
“You kissed me last night, if you remember.” He glances at me out of the corner of his eye. His fingers dance along my arm as it lays across my shoulders. He’s smiling because he thinks I’m playing a game.
“I remember. But I can’t be your girl,” I tell him. He hides his pain well, if he felt any. I try to hide my guilt just as well but it bubbles up inside of my throat. We’ll find our way back to each other. “We’re friends okay? We have to just be friends.” I love you, more than you know.
“Why?” He sounds so sure of himself. Like there was never a single question about wether or not I would be his girl after that kiss. Like it was inconcievable that I would ever tell him no. “Tell me why not.” He turns to face me. His arm leaves my shoulders and his hands grab mine.
I could think of one reason why not: Josh. Then, reason number two popped into my head: a brunette, brown eyed, bright smiled reason. Belly. I didn’t say these things, though. I kept them to myself. No matter how soft his eyes got and how hard they pleaded with mine, I had to keep my mouth shut. “I just got dumped. That wouldn’t be fair, would it? To you.” That wasn’t too far from the truth, was it?
He seems to consider this as his face turns golden from the sun. I looked out on the horizon and tried to pretend his hands weren’t hot against my skin. He leans back against the seat and he lets go of my hand. I want to lean my head against his shoulder but I don’t let myself. He doesn’t give me the chance to, anyway, because he leans forward and grabs the picnic basket that he brought onboard. “What’s in there?” I finally ask.
He pulls out two bottles of orange juice, a container of grapes, and two breakfast sandwiches. “Because you didn’t like the muffins.” He winks playfully at me. They’re still hot and I thank him as I unwrap it. “I went out early and picked them up.”
“How much earlier did you get up?” I ask jokingly but Conrad blushes. He shrugs as if to say it’s no big deal but I know the place he got these sandwiches from was a little ways away from the house and he had to still be back in time to pick me up and pack it all, so it must have been early and that fact alone made my heart skip a beat. “This was nice of you,” I tell him.
“I wanted to make it special.” The guilt retches out of my stomach. It grabs ahold of my heart and squeezes so tightly it explodes inside of my chest. I see the blood rushing out of my nose, my eyes, my ears. The guilt makes me explode from the inside out. I reach out and put my hand on top of his. It’s a selfish thing to do - touch him. I know it is when I see the look on his face: pain, regret, a hopefulness that you know will end in disappointment.
“Can we be friends?” I ask him. Yes. Yes. Yes. Please say yes.
“Yeah,” he says. I sigh. He notices. His eyes soften and he picks up a grape, tossing it at me. I laugh as it lands in my laugh. “Yeah, we’re friends.” I pick up the grape and pop it into my mouth, smiling at him like a chipmunk. We eat our breakfast as the run rises. The sky turns from dark blue to golden orange to bright blue and I think to myself: I wouldn’t want to be here with anybody else.
When the sky is blue and clear, he asks me if I want to learn how to sail and at first I want to tell him no, beg him to take me home, but I nod my head instead. He unties the sail at the front of the boat and hands me a rope. He tells me what it’’s called adn I store it away it in my brain. Jib haylard. He tells me to pull it as tight as I can and I attach it to the anchor on the side of the boat. He does the rest: opening the rest of the sail and adjusting it as needed. He seems so at peace. Like this is exactly where he needs to be. I like watching him be so focused and attentive. He catches me staring at says, “what? There’s a better view over there.” He nods toward the water passing by us.
—this fic was originally written for the bangtan fandom with kim taehyung as the main male character. it has been re-worked for the summer i turned pretty fandom with conrad fisher. yes, i am the original author [@/jjiimin is no longer in use]. the plot of this fic is entirely separate from the plot of tsitp. only conrad’s name is used.
❦ synopsis: yn and her family are social pariahs a year after her older brother confessed to the murder of his secret girlfriend, who was also yn’s best friend. with normalcy as a thing of the past, all yn wants is to work through the summer and save up enough money to leave her town forever. but what happens when the job she gets hired for means working alongside the brother of the friend she lost?
❦ genre: fluff, angst, friends to enemies(?) to lovers
❦ warnings: theme of murder; guilt by association; hurt/comfort; general emotional pain; minor character death (pre-fic); lots of anger; emotional bullying; lots of sadness; conrad is a bit ‘rough’ in one of the scenes; yn gets physically assaulted by someone (non-graphic)
❦ playlist: sweet night by kim taehyung; soldier by before you exit
❦ word count: 25k
Every morning, there is a loud banging at the door.
It starts an hour or so after sunrise and lasts about five minutes. Most days, no one in my family pays much attention to it. My father, who lives in the guest room now, wears earplugs to bed while my mother is usually too lost in her own thoughts to notice any sort of sound. My little brother throws a pillow over his head and pretends he doesn’t hear it.
I don’t do any of these things.
Instead, I grab my brown cardigan and tiptoe downstairs, careful in skipping the third to last step. It’s creaky, and also a reminder of the person who said he would fix it eventually.
When I get to the front door, I only open it a smidge. Just enough to inspect the damage before I have to deal with it. Today’s weapon is two dozen eggs. Large, white eggs from the only grocery store in this town. The way the eggs splatter against the blue of our door would be perfect for an art exhibit in New York City. They would call it broken eggs upon a door and charge people to see it.
It’s funny because I get to see it for free.
I take a step back from the door once I realize the boys are gone. Then, I head to the kitchen for some paper towels and an extra bag. The weather iswarm. Customary for the start of summer. Most people in the neighbourhood should be out for walks, but they aren’t. It may have to do with the fact that not many people live around here anymore. Almost a year ago, after the indictment, most of our neighbours sold their properties and moved away. Whether it was the reporters who drove them away or the fact that they were living on the same street as the family of a murderer, I don’t know.
“What a waste of perfectly good eggs,” I comment to myself as I gather the broken eggshells then use a paper towel to wipe up the liquid. “They should have stuck to paint balloons.” It takes me a few minutes to wipe up the best to my satisfaction. When I’m done, I tie the small bag.
Just as I’m standing up, another egg comes flying my way, pelting me square on the back. I stagger forward from the impact, grabbing the edge of the door to keep myself upright.
“Murderers!” A familiar voice yells, followed by the pelting of about a dozen more eggs.
I don’t do the smart thing and race inside. What I do instead is crouch on the floor, hiding behind one of my mother’s old potted plants.
“Kill yourselves!”
“Shameless! You all deserve to be in prison!”
“You raised a murderer!”
“You call yourselves human?!”
There are about four or five voices in total. I recognize all of them as classmates. Boys I’ve known since I was five years old. We went to the same schools all our lives. Played tag and hide-and-go-seek during recess. Skinned our knees together. Made fun of our teachers together. Grew up together.
And perhaps this is what hurts the most. That while knowing me, and having grown up with me, they still choose to do what they do to me. I don’t know why I’m so hurt by it. It’s been a year. I should be used to it by now. But does anyone ever get used to something like this?
After another minute or so, the pelting dies down alongside the aggressive voices. I know I should stay in hiding. It would be better that way. I should wait for them to leave so I can finish cleaning up. Our door is once again covered in a gooey mess of eggs, and I need more paper towels.
Counting to three inside my head, I squeeze my hands into fists and slowly rise to my feet. I try not to look at the boys as they stand on the road, watching me, but I can’t help it. For a brief moment, my eyes flicker to where they shake their heads at me then start walking away.
Except one.
The only one whose voice I never heard. The only one I know best from the lot. The only one who continues staring even as the other boys turn their backs to me.
As soon as our eyes meet, I lower my gaze. I used to dream about the day he would look at me for longer than a few seconds. I just never imagined it would be in this context.
I hear one of the boys shout his name and that’s when I look up again. He’s walking towards me now, up the short flight of stairs, until we are face-to- face.
I don’t know what I expected him to do, being so close to me, but perhaps, just like everything else today, I should have known what would come next in the sequence of events.
The boy I have known all my life reaches inside the pocket of his sweater and pulls out an identical white egg. His eyes are dark. Unreadable, even though I used to be able to read them so well.
He used to say, YN, you’re the only one who knows me and that’s why I like you best, which always resulted in his sister smacking him on the arm for teasing me. Don’t listen to him, YN. He’s being an idiot, she would tell me.
But later, when I left their home and returned to my own, I would lay in bed with my eyes closed and pretend he really meant it. That I knew him. That he likes me best. That he sees me as more than just his little sister’s best friend. I wanted to believe I had an advantage over all the other girls vying for his attention. I liked thinking I was special to him.
That was before, and this is now.
The last time he teased me was the last time we spoke. Even at the funeral, it was his best friends who threw me out, not him. He hadn’t said a word back then. A face of stone. Grim, emotionless. He was grieving in his own way, unlike his parents who cried all through the service.
Quiet eyes boring into mine, the boy of my childhood dreams raises an arm above my head then cracks the egg between his fingers. As the cracked shell and liquid pour down my hair, I don’t break eye contact and neither does he. I watch the way his jaw sets and his lips thin out. He keeps his eyes on me while the egg runs down my cheeks and drips onto my cardigan.
And perhaps I am shameless because I whisper his name. “Conrad...”
A smirk hints at his lips for a fraction of a second before he replaces it with a frown. Barely there before it’s gone again. Shaking his hand out, he flicks away the remainder of the egg and stands back, distancing himself from me. I fist my hands again, and keep them tight by my side.
“Enjoy your breakfast, YN,” he jests, not a trace of a smile to be found. “Sorry, I forgot to bring the salt and pepper.”
When he leaves, I count to three again before reaching up to touch the broken egg flowing through my strands. The yellowy fluid is rancid. He used a rotten egg. I don’t know why this adds to the pain.
Turning on my feet to watch him walk down the road to meet his friends, I think back to the first time we met.
I was seven, and he was eight.
I was far too shy back then to say hello to anyone at the park. But his sister wasn’t, and neither was he. Hailey and her brother were social butterflies. The best of friends who had no trouble befriending me.
I was sitting in the sandbox trying to build a castle when she asked for my name. Once I told her, she ran to grab her brother and forced him to say hello to me. And when he did, my little seven year old heart felt like it was soaring. It felt like the best feeling in the world. I knew right then and there that this boy would mean something special to me.
Later, almost a whole week later, Hailey came over to my house for the first time. That was the weekend my older brother was having his eleventh birthday party. I didn’t know it back then but that was the day Hailey’s own little seven year old heart soared, too.
. . .
Back inside the house, I stand in the foyer to gather my incessant jitters and shaky limbs. With the putrid scent of the eggs all over me, I know I need to shower if I want to feel anything like a normal human being again.
Quietly taking off my slippers, I lay them to the side and start walking towards the stairs when I hear someone slurp. The sound directs my head towards my little brother at the breakfast table with a bowl of cereal in front of him. He keeps his eyes trained on my figure, taking me in in all my misery while I stand at the foot of the staircase. Blindly, I reach up for my hair. I don’t want him to see me like this.
“O-Oh, you’re awake,” I greet anxiously, trying to smile despite the flickers of dry egg yolk on my cheeks. “Did you sleep well?”
My brother blinks twice before he reaches in for another spoon of cereal. Around a mouthful of Coco Puffs—which I’m sure are stale since I don’t remember buying a new box on Saturday—he says, “If you wanted to go out, you should have used the back door.”
“R-Right,” I mumble, glancing down at my dirty clothes. Before I look back up, I plaster on a smile. For both our sakes. “I bought some Corn Flakes on the weekend—”
“Did Con throw eggs at you, too?”
His question feels like a blow to my stomach, sending me flying back out the door I walked in from. Just by the way he nearly whispers the question, I know he didn’t want to ask it. And even more, he is afraid of the answer.
All these years, despite their age gap, Joey has always proudly claimed Conrad as a friend. Best friend, he would often correct me when Hailey and I teased him about it. Even more than our older brother, Conrad spent time playing games with Joey or helping him with homework.
I hate that I can’t fix this for him. I hate that my baby brother’s memories are muddied rotten because of his older siblings.
Slowly lifting my shoulders, I clear my throat and answer, “It wasn’t him, Joey, so don’t worry. I’m just going to shower and then we can study together, okay? Before Mrs. Bui calls for us.”
With that, I spare him one last broken smile and quickly race up the stairs. They creak absurdly with the weight of my hasty movements, but I could care less. Fresh tears are flowing down my cheeks before I even make it to the bathroom. I don’t bother wiping them and step into the cold shower.
Around fifteen minutes later, I open the bathroom door again and race to my room, dripping wet. Of course I forgot to take a towel in with me. Thinking through my actions isn’t something I’ve been doing a lot of lately. I tell myself if I think less, then the memories and the reminders of two families’ sorrows will fade away.
They never do.
Inside my room, I focus on the painting hanging on a wall next to my bed while I change into jeans and a t-shirt.
Hailey painted it, back when we were freshmen. It was a painting which she received a prize for at our school’s annual talent exhibition. She had painted it in under an hour. After receiving the award, Hyeryung pushed the painting into my arms.
A gift, she said. For my second favourite person in the world.
Who’s your first?
You know who.
In the painting, there are two ships. Two different colours, two different styles, two different desires. One ship was painted blue and sitting at harbour. The other ship was a bit further into the ocean, and it was purple.
When Hailey was asked what the ships represented, she explained, “A ship in harbour is safe – but that is not what ships are built for.”
I was standing next to Conrad as she delivered her grandiose speech to the crowd of parents and teachers gawking at her artistry, equally as amazed by her art as I was with her words. But then Conrad, upon noticing my awe, poked me in the side of my stomach and showed me something on his phone.
A Google search.
It was just like my best friend to quote someone and not give them credit.
Looking at the painting now is difficult. It reminds me of the person who painted it, who helped me put it up, and the person who deserved better than what she was given. A year ago, Hailey was a happy-go-lucky sophomore in high school who had her whole future planned out.
“I want to be a pharmacist.”
“Wait... what?”
“I said,” Hailey playfully rolled her eyes. “I want to be a pharmacist after uni.”
“You? Seriously? You really want to do that?” “Why? What’s so bad about being a pharmacist?”
“There’s nothing wrong with it, just that... I imagined you doing something in the arts.”
“Nah,” she shrugged. “Painting is my hobby. If I made it my career, I would end up hating it. That’s why I want to be a pharmacist, so I can make lots of money and afford expensive art equipment.” She pauses. “And also so my kids can tell their friends their mother sells drugs.”
“Hails!”
The walls of my bedroom are encased in her laughter, as well as my own. Every surface littered with the giggles from my our childhood—nine years old, coming home with McDonald’s and sharing fries; thirteen years old, talking about ‘whatever are we doing to do about our first kiss?’; and sixteen years old, talking about what life after graduation would be like.
My hair smells like strawberries as I unwrap the towel. Thick, mid-length tresses flow down my shoulders in a hue of black and crimson. While I sincerely regret box-highlighting my hair, I can’t help but think it’s the only thing in my life which still means something to me. This was the colour Hyeri picked out for me, while I picked blue for her. We were going to be like those girls in the animes we loved. In a way, this horrible hair-job is a way of celebrating her memory, as much as I am able to.
Joey is laying out his books and stationary when I walk back downstairs. Next to his things is a bowl of Corn Flakes and a jug of milk—my breakfast. Smiling to myself, I gently ruffle my little brother’s hair and sit down, crossing my legs as I do so.
Before digging into my food, I ask, “Are you going to see Jamal and Hunter at the park later? Do you want me walk you over there?”
“No.”
“No? Why not? Don’t you want to see your friends?”
Joey stops shuffling his pens and pencils, which are already perfectly in order, and mumbles, “They said they didn’t want me to come.”
“They don’t want you to...” as my words trail off into a mist, curdling pain seers its way in as substitute. All at once, I am rendered speechless and immobile. This news is nothing unfamiliar, and while I should be accustomed to it after the passing of an entire year, the truth is that I’m not. My little brother’s words affect me in this moment the same way they did the first time he uttered them. And the second. And the third. And all the times in between. Curling a hand over the edge of the breakfast table, I scoot forward in an attempt to wade off any worry I may pass along to the ten-year-old unknowingly. I paste on a faux jubilant smile and announce, “We’ll go for ice cream, okay? Just the two of us.”
I don’t add – and he doesn’t comment – how it’s always the two of us who do anything together anymore. Our father is scarce around the home, and our mother even less so despite the fact that she does not work. Even when I bring dinner to her room, she does not touch it.
Pausing on his highlighters which he arranged lightest to darkest, Joey mumbles, “I don’t want ice cream.”
I bite my lip and tighten the grip I have on the table. It’s okay, it’s okay, I tell myself. It’s going to be okay. I can handle this. We may be eight years apart, but I can totally handle this. “Okay, no ice cream. Should we go get milkshakes—?”
“I don’t want stupid ice cream! I want my friends!”
Last year, after the final verdict blazed through the court and the officers took our older brother away in handcuffs, a group of news reporters heckled what was left of our family outside the courthouse. Our brother’s lawyer—the one we had to take out three different loans to afford— had arranged for a cab to pick us up discretely so that we wouldn’t end up on Channel 7 news, but it arrived late, which gave the news hawks plenty of time to interrogate us.
Mom was sobbing while Dad held her, shielding her face from the reporters. This didn’t leave much strength for Dad to protect us. When the reporters were finished recording our mother’s wails and our father’s deathly silence, they turned to Jinnie and me.
“How do you feel about your brother being in prison? Do you think you will be able to live normal lives after this?”
“Was he always aggressive? Did he ever try to hurt you?”
“Do you feel responsible for what happened?”
A video of Joey crying went viral on news platforms all around the country.
Everyone claimed ‘he was next’ and that they hoped he wouldn’t ‘further his brother’s murderous legacy.’ They claimed his tears were fake—a ruse to gain sympathy from the town which would ‘never recover from such a harrowing loss.’
I never wanted to read the articles about us, but in the midst of my grief, I had forgotten that I was still a teenager. That I still attended high school with 600 other students who had plenty to say to me about what happened.
For the first two weeks after my brother confessed and the police arrested him, my social media was flooded with messages. Some were nice while others were accusatory. One person even made a deep-fake video of me laughing about my best friend’s death, which led to my expulsion from school. Neither of my parents fought very hard to keep me there. Good thing, too, since I wasn’t keen on staying either.
Joey still went, despite our court-appointed psychiatrist’s warning that he should be home-schooled like I now was. Little kids, I found, were much less technological. Instead of violent videos of a cartoon version of Joey getting his head chopped off by our older brother, his classmates put worms in his lunchbox, lured him with games only to throw baseballs at his head, and shunned him at recess. Even his best friends from preschool, Jamal and Hunter, stopped speaking to him publicly. Their parents were afraid of our family, too.
But occasionally, one of the boys—and if he was really lucky—both of them would ask Joey to hang out, and it would lift his spirits. He would ask me for permission, then pick out an outfit, dust off his bike and helmet, then wait patiently for the clock to tell him it was time to go. I never admitted it to anyone, but seeing Joey sit impatiently on the sofa while the clock ticked was one of the happiest moments of my life. Ever since what happened, joy was rare in our house. I wanted my little brother to enjoy as much of it as he could when it came.
Watching Joey now, I feel like his mother. I want to fix everything for him with the twirl of a magic wand.
There are fresh tears streaking his cheeks as he grumpily rearranges his highlighters again—darkest to lightest this time—and avoids my gaze. I know he wants to apologize. Joey hates being mad at anyone, especially me. Especially after what happened. I know it’s because he’s afraid of losing me, like everyone else we’ve lost through months which seem endless.
“Hey, hey,” I encourage, laying my warm hands over his shaking ones. I nudge him to look at me. Plastering on a smile which I hope reads sincere, I joke, “Do you remember that time Hunter wet the bed when you were seven? And Jamal cried?”
“I didn’t cry,” he whispers in return. “That’s right. You didn’t cry at all.” “I helped clean up.”
“You did,” I hum, scooting closer to my brother so he knows I’m not upset with him. “You always help people, Joey. You’re a good and kind person. Anyone would be lucky to call you their friend. Especially me.”
A smile starts blooming on his lips as he looks up. “Are we really friends?”
“Best friends.”
And for the time being, this appeases my ten-year-old brother enough to focus on his school work. When he turns back to his stationary, he doesn’t rearrange his highlighters. Instead, he pulls out his small sketchbook and picks out his favourite pencil before pressing it to paper.
I use this time to turn on our computer and log into Skype. Mrs. Bui will call us in a few minutes, and I don’t want to be late for her arrival. There are already so many dreadful adjectives associated with our family’s name. I don’t want unpunctual to be another.
At exactly 8 AM, Mrs. Bui’s name and professional photo lights up my laptop screen. I look towards Joey to make sure he’s ready. When he nods his head, I click to answer the call.
“Good morning, Mrs. Bui.”
The middle-aged schoolteacher smiles warmly at our dual greeting. Her dark auburn hair is pulled back in a loose bun today, and she’s wearing her reading glasses. She must have had a long night because she almost never wears her glasses unless she absolutely has to. “And good morning to you,” she chirps in her usual voice. As she picks up a cup of coffee to take a sip, she asks us, “Did you both have a good morning?”
“Yes, we did,” I answer for the both of us. Short, direct answers. After a whole year of managing questions from reporters, counselors, teachers, and everyone in between, I had grown to realize the shorter I made my sentences, the easier the lives of others became. No one wants to hear about our grief. No one wants to know that our mother hasn’t left her room in a year or that our father drinks himself to sleep every weekend or that this morning, I got pelted with eggs by the boy I’ve been in love with all my life.
Mrs. Bui smiles and asks, “Joey, I marked your math test. I’m pleased to announce you received an A.” Joey can hardly contain his excitement as he grins and practically vibrates in his chair. “And YN, your essay on the role of censorship in advertising was a marvelous read. You also received an A. I’m very proud of you both for working so hard this term.”
“Thank you!”
“You’re very welcome, Joey,” Mrs. Bui replies before she reaches for her phone. “I would like to schedule a meeting with your parents to discuss school in September.” She scrolls through her phone for a moment before going, “Joey will be entering middle school, and YN—university, I presume?”
“I set up online classes with a certified sixth grade teacher for Joey in September,” I answer, feeling my hands shake under the table. Again, I go to grip it to keep myself from tipping over. “But I won’t be attending university.”
“Oh... college then?”
“No. Not college either.”
All of us are silent for a few moments as the significance of my answer dawns on our teacher. As Mrs. Bui’s brows furrow in confusion, I brace myself for her upcoming question.
“YN, you are a very smart girl. I can’t imagine that you would be alright with skipping post-secondary education. Have you spoken to your parents about this?”
“Yes,” I gulp, lying straight through my teeth. I’ve gotten very good at it— lying. Among other things. “They’re aware of my decision.”
Mrs. Bui sinks back in her seat, as if everything she had planned for this morning just evaporated into thin air. I feel the guilt of such crawl up my neck and begin to choke me in silence. “There are plenty of colleges and universities which offer part-time schooling, my dear. Most of them would be very accommodating to your specific needs.”
“I understand that. I’m just not interested in going to college.”
There is an edge to my seemingly mundane words which appear to slice through Mrs. Bui’s good conscience. Where once she deemed herself prepared to argue with me about my future prospects, she now collapses under the weight of our unspoken rule to never argue in front of Joey.
“Very well then.”
Though our conversation ends there, my phone screen lights up with an incoming message.
mrs. bui: let’s discuss your decision later.
For the remainder of the next hour, Mrs. Bui teaches Joey about Egyptian hieroglyphics. Then the following hour, she tutors me in data management and statistics. While Joey continues drawing in the living room, and I begin packing up my belongings after the second hour nears its end, Mrs. Bui coughs to catch my attention. I know what’s coming before she even utters any words.
“YN, I know it is difficult due to your parents’ work, but please arrange a time for me to speak to them about the future of your education,” she says, completely unaware that it isn’t their work which keeps them from talking to her. It’s the fact that they don’t even know that she exists. “I understand that your situation is unique, but it does not mean you have to let go of post- secondary education. Most of the professional world still requires a person to at least have a bachelor’s degree—”
“There’s nothing I want to study, so there’s really no need for me to go to university, Mrs. Bui.”
Mrs. Bui leans into the camera and retorts, “You can enter university with an undeclared major and make your final decision by the end of the first term of your second year. There are options, YN. I don’t want you to close the door on your future.” When I don’t reply immediately, she goes on to tell me, “Graduation is a month away. Although you missed the original post- secondary application date, I have friends at several different universities whom I can write to in your stead. There are options.”
For the rest of the day, Mrs. Bui’s words replay in my head like a broken record. Every time I try to busy myself with a task or a chore or even a small hobby—like painting with Joey—her advice flies back to me full force and punches me in the gut.
Back before everything happened, I did dream about attending university. My older cousins loved it. Besides the studying and the late nights and the monstrous lack of self-care that goes into obtaining a post-secondary degree, they all used to gush about the parties, and the extracurricular events, and the clubs, and the boys. Most of the men my cousins are married to now were their college boyfriends.
Admittedly, hearing their stories over the years made me curious. I had wanted to attend university. Hailey said she wanted to study pharmacy, I thought about studying wildlife biology and conservation. I had always loved animals, had always wanted to have a dog or cat or even both. I never gave it too much thought but I imagined that a degree related to animals and nature would be something I would love.
After went to prison, I stopped dreaming about anything that didn’t have to do with getting out of this town with Joey in tow. University didn’t factor very well into that goal, and it still doesn’t.
. . .
Two days after graduation, which took place online with a guest list of exactly zero, my cousin Emma, shows up at our front door with a purple suitcase and a sunshine smile. My dad has a lot of siblings, seven to be exact, and all of them have between three to five kids each, which has led to ginormous family reunions every couple of years as our family grew up.
Emma, nearly my twin as she was born only a month before me, was the closest friend I had aside from Hailey. The three of us would often go out together when Emma would visit during the summers. We got along well, the three of us, and it was always terribly sad when Emma would leave for boarding school at the end of August.
During my brother’s trial, Emma’s family was the only one who came to support us. Whether it was financial or emotional support, they had plenty of it. The other members of our grand family pretended we weren’t related to them. Many of them even blocked our numbers and social media.
But Emma was there for me, and right now, she was here with me—standing in our front door, waiting for me to let her in.
“What are you—?”
“Happy graduation, bi-otch,” she greets, smiling from ear-to-ear as she cascades past our foyer and into the living room. No one is there, of course. Dad is at work. Mom is in her room. Joey is learning how to code in Dad’s old office. I had just turned on the stove to start preparing dinner. “Where is everyone?”
“Uh...”
Emma turns on her heel and says, “Let me guess: Dad’s at work, Mom refuses to come out of her room, and Joey is being Joey?”
Nodding, I step closer. “Em, what are you doing here anyway?”
Emma’s smile brightens. “Glad you asked! I’m moving to Australia at the end of summer for university, so I thought I’d swing by for a girls’ weekend with you before I head home to my parents.”
The words girls’ weekend sends me into a state of nostalgia. Hailey and I would talk about taking a trip together—just the two of us—someday after we both graduated. A trip across the country in her beat up Honda Civic Conrad helped her buy after she got her license. We planned out all the sights we wanted to see and the restaurants and the diners we wanted to eat at and all the gifts we would buy for our friends and family on the trip back home.
When Hailey passed, she took the dream with her, and I hadn’t thought about it since.
“I don’t think—”
“You’re not allowed to say ‘no,’” Emma cuts in, settling herself down on the sofa. “I’m already here.”
“Em, I can’t just—”
Emma leans across the arm of the sofa and says, “Yes, you can. Your dad doesn’t work on the weekends. He can take care of Joey for a night or two.” Suddenly, her smile dims and I know exactly what she’s going to say. “You’re not even going to university. You never do a single thing for yourself anymore, YN. Let’s just... enjoy this weekend together, yeah?”
And that is how I end up standing in the middle of a crowd of strangers the very next night while Emma beelines for the bar.
There is loud party music thumping throughout the spacious room covered inch-by-inch in dancing, swaying or standing bodies. The atmosphere reeks of alcohol and sweat, and it is everything I expected a club to look like.
Darting my eyes left and right, I cross my arms and try to step towards the bar in search of my cousin who is taking an awfully long time to bring our drinks. Some kind of liquor for her, and a non-alcoholic drink for me. I’ve never had alcohol before and I don’t want to start now.
Emma is standing by the bar talking to a group of men I don’t recognize but who all look to be in their late twenties. Their starving eyes and lustful gazes continually drop down to Emma’s outfit and I just know she’s eating up their attention.
“Hey, uh—“ I tap my cousin on the shoulder, and she turns to face me with an irritated expression. Instantly, I feel bad for intruding on her conversation and feel my heartbeat pick up speed. With ears burning red, I almost whisper, “Is it o-okay if I go home?”
“Home?”
“Yeah... I feel kind of sick.”
Emma rolls her eyes a bit then turns back around to say something to the men. They all glance over at me then nod at her. One of them even leans in to kiss her cheek to which she slaps his chest in what can only be described as characteristically her.
When she turns back around, her irises are dark, and definitely full of disappointment. She looks just like her mother when Aunt Marina finds her kids doing something she forbid, like the time Emma snuck out during a family dinner to meet her then-boyfriend.
“YN,” my cousin sighs, like she’s tired of saying my name, “what did I say in the cab about letting loose?”
“I’m... loose...” Even as I say it, I cringe. That was not the way to say it. Straightening my shoulders, I argue, “Em, this is your scene. Not mine. I don’t like it here.”
“Lots of people don’t like clubs when they first come to them,” she returns, ruffling her black hair so the curls bounce. Emma has always been beautiful, but under the canopy of the foggy club, she looked extra pretty. I wonder what people think when they see us together. An older sister and her whiny baby sister? The popular girl and the nerd? I hated feeling so inadequate next to my own family, but right now, I feel it full force. Emma goes on with, “But you get used to it and you have lots of fun. Look, let me order you a drink—“ I open my mouth to protest but she’s already calling for the bartender. “To be honest, I was just going to bring you a bottle of water, but this is better. Now that you’re here, I can show you why everyone loves to drink.” To the bartender, she says, “One Jack and Coke, and a Long Island Iced Tea.”
Are both of those for me?
As I’m wondering this, the bartender drops a small glass of what appears to be Coca-Cola on the table. Emma uses the tip of her finger to slide it my way, and if not for my quick reflexes, I’m almost one hundred percent certain it would have slid off the bar top.
With anxiety racing through my bloodstream, I shakily raise the glass. “Drink up, little cousin.”
“I’m not—”
Emma doesn’t wait for me to finish my sentence before she tips the glass towards my mouth. The ice chimes against the walls of the glass as the crisp liquid flows over my tongue and down my esophagus. Its brumal sting gallops down my throat causing me to blink fast.
Leaning away from the glass, I mumble, “This tastes like coke mixed with something else.”
Emma chuckles and takes two sips of her iced tea. “What you’re tasting is the whiskey.” Placing her drink down, my cousin tilts her head in mock interest. “Gosh, YN, you’re so weird sometimes. How have you graduated from high school and never had a Jack and Coke?”
“You already know I don’t drink.”
“Oh, I’m well aware. I just didn’t know your social life was so boring. Didn’t you and Hailey ever—?”
I lower my gaze at the same time Emma’s eyes widen three times their normal size.
The two of us never talked about it, but my best friend’s death was a topic Emma trekked very quietly. In about everything else in life, my cousin is loud and boisterous. She is the life of the party and the roar of the crowd. But topics like family and death are difficult for her, and she almost never speaks of them.
After Hailey passed, Emma stopped bringing her up in conversation completely. If she ever did bring her up, it was with the words, ‘your best friend’ or ‘that girl.’ Never her name. It was almost as if Emma was petrified of saying it. As if some grand significance stood idle behind our friend’s name and she could not bring herself to utter it out of fear of the unknown.
And so, because I know with absolutely surety that Emma didn’t intend to say Hailey’s name, I answer her question with, “No. We never drank. At least, not together.”
Emma nods and looks away, occasionally sipping on her iced tea as her own ears blaze.
Huh.
It must run in the family.
Minutes of silence later, two of the men from earlier return and Emma doesn’t look my way as she instructs me to call her if I need anything and to ‘stay by the bar if you aren’t going to dance’ before walking away. Then I watch her be whisked off by men who snake up to her like she’s a film star. And honestly, she may as well be with her larger-than-life persona that I never quite grew out of being envious about.
Turning on my heel, I am about to place my Jack and Coke back on the bar top when a deep voice snickers, “You look like you’re having fun.”
The voice of my childhood dreams freezes me in place. Before I can build the courage to raise my head and look to its source, the blatant sarcasm laced with the veins of his tone buries me ten feet under. Dread, and pure, unadulterated mortification staples me to the ground even as he takes two steps closer.
“What?” He asks mockingly. It hurts. Oh God, it hurts so much. “You can’t look at me now that we’re practically strangers?”
“C-Conrad...”
“It’s funny,” he drawls, leaning one arm on the bar top. His darkening gaze traces me from the tip of my head to the tip of my green tennis shoes. A gift from him last year. “I didn’t think you would ever have the courage to show up to a place like this. It’s not really your scene, is it, YN?”
The fact that his comment mirrors my earlier argument with Emma is startling. Although, it shouldn’t be. I grew up with him. He knows a place like this is the furthest from my comfort zone. I just hate that he knows it.
I have never fully admitted it to myself, but so much of me wishes any memories he has of me would be erased. I wish we had never been friends. Maybe then, he could be happier never having known me, and I could have lived without the guilt I carry like a phantom limb.
“My c-cousin brought m-me—”
He juts his chin towards my cardigan. “Then maybe she should have told you that most girls don’t dress like that here.” A pause. “Not unless they want to become fresh meat.”
Instinctively, I tighten the cardigan around my body. When my fingers make contact with the cotton, I realize it is the same cardigan I wore that day on my porch with the eggs. Blushing embarrassingly, I mumble, “I’m not fresh meat.”
“To one of the drunk bastards here, you are.”
“W-What do you want, Conrad?”
At the sound of my question, one of his eyebrows does a slight jump before descending. A smirk starts to play on his lips as he seats himself at the bar. He’s wearing a black zip-up bomber jacket twice his size, and so when he leans across the bar top, it conceals much of his side profile. A disappearing act whenever he wants it.
Tapping spry fingers along the damp, wooden bar, Conrad hums, “Well for one, I’d like my sister back.” He turns to me with a smile brewed from rage and vindication causing my heart to hammer between flashes of inordinate grief. Of their own accord, my tennis shoes skid back one step, though not quite far enough to miss the remainder of his answer. “But you can’t bring her back, can you? After people die, they’re gone forever. I wish your family had known that before it destroyed mine.”
“Breathe in, breathe out,” she instructed.
I make a face at her. “That’s the dumbest advice ever. I know how to breathe!”
“Just listen will you,” she sighed, rolling her eyes obnoxiously. “It helps with anxiety. Sure, you know how to breathe. But when you’re anxious, it’s like your body forgets what normal functioning is, so you have to help it get back on track.”
“I’m not anxious.”
“You’re literally shaking from head to toe, YN. Just breathe with me, okay, dumbass?” Holding my hands in hers, she counts me through long breaths. “Breathe in, 1, 2, 3... now slowly exhale, 1...2...3...”
Breathing is difficult when I try to focus on it with purpose in the midst of my panic. All at once, whirlwinds of agonizingly lethal pain injects my bloodstream and leaves me both immobile and ready to dash away. Except, in this smoky club where I am a stranger to everyone but two people, places to run to are miniscule in number.
I will myself not to think about it, but when I can’t help it when I do think about the breathing exercises I learned from someone who can no longer teach me anything.
1...2...3...
In the minute I stand vibrating in tandem with the thundering EDM music surrounding us, Conrad has ordered a drink for himself, and over the rim of the thick glass, he slyly asks, “How’s your brother?”
“You can’t tell Con.”
“Hails... why are you hiding this from him?” “
“Drew doesn’t want me to tell anyone. Not yet.”
Rolling my eyes in exasperation, I release my arms from their crossed position. “Andrew is an idiot. An idiot I cannot believe you want to be with. Like... ew, he’s my brother.”
“He’s sexy.”
“Never say that in front of me again! Ew, ew, ew!”
“You just don’t see it because he’s your brother. But trust me... he’s....” her eyes mist over, and it’s the first time I’ve seen my best friend look so moved. “I think he’s the one. I really do.”
Droplets of cold sweat burn the back of my neck as they transcend the path downwards and split in the middle of my spine. The experience is ordinary. Perhaps, more ordinary than breathing has been for the past year. My body and all its corners have learned the art of showcasing my inner trauma in ways which I am still growing accustomed to.
The sweat clouding my back feels like rain in the middle of this putrid club. On any patch of Earth, rain gives life. On me, this rain of sweat fuels my immeasurable anguish—both for the situation and the questions I know Conrad doesn’t really want me to answer.
He asks them to taunt me—nothing else. Lately, he has learned to become quite good at doing so.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, throwing the apology his way despite knowing that over the thud, thud, thud of the musical bass, it may go unheard. Conrad doesn’t look at me as he takes another sip of his drink, finishing it all this time. I swallow and try again, despite my nerves begging me to stop. “I-I’m sorry, Conrad, I—”
His eyes are menacing as he glares me down. “When I look at you, YN, there’s only one thing which goes through my mind, and do you want to know what that is?”
Wobbly lips whisper, “What?”
“That I wish it had been you.”
“I think he likes you~”
“Hails, stop. No, he doesn’t.”
Hailey smirks and crosses her arms. “Then why did he specifically ask me to invite you? He even made a card for you.” She pushes a small, white card with the words ‘To YN’ my way. “Do you know how many other girls he made a card for?” Staying quiet has the desired effect because my best friend giggles, “Zero. He only made this card for you.”
“Then... why didn’t he give it to me himself?”
Hailey shrugs. “Probably because he’s too chicken. And also because he’s dumb and forgot to give it to you earlier. But the tournament is tomorrow and he really wants you to come. You’re going to come, right?”
“Y-Yeah...”
“Good,” my best friend grins. “He’ll be so happy to see you on the bleachers.”
His admission punches my gut.
The sound of the EDM music echoes in my ears, as if suddenly further away than it originally was. Though I stand directly in front of him, Conrad seems to vanish right before my eyes. In his place stands the imaginative illustration of his words and my guilt in combination of a thought I have wished to be real over and over again.
If only it was me.
If I had died instead of Hailey, then she and Conrad could have moved on somehow. They would have had each other, the siblings who some thought were twins based on the closeness of their age and adoring friendship. If it had been me, they would have been able to mourn my loss then continue living because they had a rope in each other to hold on to.
It has been a year and never have I been this way for Conrad: not during the trial, when my loyalties to my own family froze me to their side; not during the funeral, when I was removed from the venue before I could even see what picture of my best friend they chose for the service; and especially not after, when no one had heard from Conrad in months and when he did come home eventually, almost no one recognized the man who returned— scruffy hair, exhausted eyes, and limbs so skinny that his jeans were inches from falling off his body at any moment.
As tears spring to my eyes, I don’t wipe at them. They pad down my cheeks, and I whisper, “I’m sorry, Conrad. I wish it had been me, t-too.”
Conrad’s gaze traces my tear-stained expression.
Despite the room we are in, I feel alone with him now. In this moment, it feels like it’s just the two of us here and every single thing we do will not go unseen by the other. I feel stark naked, and I don’t like it. I hate feeling this way around him when everything I used to feel with him was the exact opposite.
Sensations heightened and heart hammering, I swallow around something thick weighing down my throat. He is staring at me, silent, even as a giggling, much-too-drunk girl bumps into his side and stays there. And so for a split second, Conrad’s eyes dart to her salaciously stretching her hand over his chest.
Leaning her weight against him, she asks, “Wanna dance with me?”
And as if he has done it a million times before, Conrad wraps a hand around her wrist and tears it off his chest. The gruff motion seems to startle the strange girl into sobriety, and as she blinks fogginess away, he grumbles, “No, I don’t want to dance with you.”
The girl is smart enough not to start an argument. With her tail between her legs and an embarrassed flush rises high on her angled cheeks, she throws a glance between me and him before running away. The clicking of her heels feels like pinches in my skin as it travels farther and farther away. And when I dare to look at Conrad again, I almost wish she would come back.
Over the past year, Conrad has been scarce around town. For one, he had just started university when the news of Hyeryung’s death reached him. Then, after her funeral, he went missing for months. Word in the neighbourhood was that he went to Scotland to see his uncle. Another group of friends said he went to New York to sell his photography. I couldn’t ask around to see which of the floating rumours was actually true.
I remember what Conrad looked like before his sister died. I wish I didn’t, but I remember it all too well. Like a memory burned to the back of my mind.
Conrad had a growth spurt sometime during the end of his junior year of high school. He, Hailey, and I went back-to-school shopping together and his mother had to buy him three new pairs of jeans because none of his old ones fit him anymore. By then, his style had changed from ‘anime fanatic’ to ‘rich art student,’ too, and so his mother shelled out over two hundred dollars on new shirts and shoes, as well. And so by the time the three of us started school again, Conrad was suddenly a part of the popular crowd. They opened their arms to him so quickly that it gave me whiplash because I could remember only a few months before when none of them wanted to be seated close to us. We were a small school in an even smaller town, and it was difficult to join new friend groups once they had been established. But Conrad was different and I knew it.
Hailey called him a traitor for joining the popular crowd, but I didn’t agree. It’s not like Conrad forgot about us. His priorities were just different now, and we had to adjust to it. I never told Hailey, but I liked watching Conrad bloom into the extroverted, confident, and handsome man he was becoming. It was like watching the smallest star in the galaxy learn to shine brighter than it used to.
I still feel this way, though it is quieter now. It has to be. The circumstances have forced me to be, and once again, I have learned to adjust.
“You’re pathetic,” he seethes, eyes the colour of murky water after midnight. Every word from his lips is a laceration, and a targeted whip against my heart. I am shaking beyond measure, and by now, I am too far from the table to grip it. The man in front of me keeps going. “I wish we had never met you. All you and your family ever did was bring misery into our lives. I wish my sister had been smart enough to see that.” He takes two steps closer. I don’t do the noble thing and move back. It’s like I’m glued in place with nowhere to go. “And you know what? I resent her for that, too. Maybe if she had been smart, she would have seen you for the monster you have always been.”
Conrad does not cry.
I have known him all his life and not once has he ever cried in front of me. But tonight, he does.
Just like mine sprung with tears minutes ago, his beautiful brown eyes fill with droplets of woe, and suddenly, we are mirrored halves of grief. After a year of mourning apart, we are standing on the same foot path of heartache. Alone, but together.
I would give up anything in the world for you to not be sad anymore.
As Conrad begins to blink his tears away, I finally take a step forward. My hand, trembling and afraid, reaches up for his face as if it is separate from my mind, screaming at me to stop. Affliction rises from a corner of my heart and rushes down to pool in my stomach. I push past that, too, and touch his face despite everything fighting against me to not do so.
Conrad doesn’t move back. Not like I expect him to. Slowly, his eyes meet mine in the overcast of the hazy room.
The last time I was this close to him, he had kissed me. It is not a memory I think of with fondness any more. I didn’t think it was fair. What right did I have to dream about a boy whose life I had destroyed? What right did I have to love him?
I tell myself I don’t, that I never did, as I use the pad of my thumb to dust the tears off his warm cheeks. He is stiff, as I expected him to be, but two swipes later, he softens. Perhaps no one else in the raucous club would have noticed it, but I do. I feel it wash over my skin, shuddering and more illuminating than any strobe of colourful lighting around us.
Conrad traces me with his eyes again, studying my face.
I wonder what he sees. He says I’m a monster, and I can believe myself to be. Is that what he’s seeing? A monster who should have replaced the death of a sister he loved more than anyone else in the world. What colour is this monster? Is she red like the devil? Does she have horns and claws? What love is she capable of if all she does is hurt others?
It is unkind of me, but I selfishly desire for this moment between us to last a while longer when it starts to fizzle. He reads something in my eyes and it seems to wash away the mistiness inside his mind. And then, just like he did the girl before me, Conrad wraps his long fingers around my wrist and pushes me away.
He does not say a word to me when he walks around my figure and heads into the crowd. Watching him leave splits my heart open. I shift closer to the bar and fall against it, gripping whatever piece of wood I can touch. In seconds, I am soaked with tears all over again.
“Oh, YN...”
Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I shake my head and push through the pain as much as I can, smiling as I go. “It’s okay. Really, I’m fine.”
Hailey immediately hugs me to her and grumbles, “I don’t know what happened. He made that card for you and he asked me if you were going to come. I don’t know why he would kiss her—”
“I think it was a mistake... me coming here. I’m—I’m gonna go.”
As I pull out of her arms, trying to sniffle less than I was a few moments ago, Hailey asks, “Do you want me to beat him up for you?”
“N-No.”
Her lips push into a pout. “Con is an idiot. You’re way better than her. Smarter and prettier and far more talented.”
“She’s literally a cheerleader and she got into a pre-med program at NYU.”
“So what?”
“Uh...”
“He’s just confused. He’s my brother, and I know he likes you. I don’t know what went wrong, but I’m going to fix this. Okay? I’m going to make him—“
“No!” Grabbing her arm, I stop all of Hailey’s rapid, fiery movements and force her look at me. “It was just a crush. It’s not like I’m in love with him. He should be with the girl he likes, and it’s okay if that girl isn’t me. So don’t worry about it.” I bump my shoulder with hers. “Now that you’re going out with Dani, at least I know there’s a chance we’re still going to be family someday.”
“We already are,” she grins, and wraps her pinky around mine. Her fingers were always smaller than my own, and it was something her brother and I would tease her about all the time. “We’re sisters. Forever and always.”
. . .
I like driving into town.
Back when I was still on my learner’s permit, my mother had to drive everywhere with me. And by everywhere, I mean she made me drive to the grocery store or the town mall while she sat in the driver’s seat going over her various shopping lists. My mother loved lists. She could rarely function well without them. I learned how to create a list for ‘getting ready for school’ before I turned five years old. It was instilled in my brain that ‘living is only done right by those who organize their lives.’ My mother was a perfectionist, and strived for me to be the same.
I started driving alone a year ago, after I passed my second road test. It happened only a week before Hailey went missing. Back then, when I was cruising down the empty road behind my neighbourhood listening to Brighten at the perfect volume, I never could have imagined what a few days into the future would look like. No one could have.
There aren’t many people around at this time of day. After all, it’s 7 AM on a Sunday. Everyone is sleeping in or just getting ready to sleep in following a night of Netflix binging or video gaming. I went to bed early last night to avoid doing the same as I had grown prone to lately. With not much to do now that school is out and I am officially a graduate, I spent the past week watching a lot of television despite how it strained my eyes and gave me headache after headache.
As I pull into the parking lot of the town sports shop, I notice Kevin, the store manager, unlocking the front door. I quickly locate a parking spot then kill the ignition. I have exactly twenty minutes before the shop opens for business, which means I need to get to Kevin right away.
I pull down the driving mirror and check my face.
Eyebrows are fine.
Eye bags hidden by drugstore concealer.
My skin is a bit saggy, but that’s okay. No one will really notice. My lips are—
I quickly apply lip tint then sigh against the driver’s seat. I’m already worn out from stress and I haven’t even gone in there yet. I think my brain knows how scary and exhausting the trek is going to be so it’s decided to keep me from trying my luck. If only I was willing to abide.
No one in my family knows that I’m here.
I wanted to tell Joey, but thought better of it since he’s prone to overthinking. He might have tried to talk me out of it. Dad was asleep when I left, and Mom was talking to her sister on the phone. At least, I think she was. I heard the words ‘I want to die’ a few times and she only ever says that to Aunt Yvonne. She said it to me once, but I think I cried too much afterwards for her to try it again. It’s messy—dealing with someone else’s emotions when your own are so amply charged. My mother transformed into a shell of the person she once was after they took my brother away in handcuffs. Over the months in trial, and between prison visits and being harassed by the town, bits and parts of my mother began chipping away until all she was left with was something unrecognizable—to us and to herself.
Kevin is fixing an arrangement of hockey sticks near the back of the shop when I walk in. He doesn’t turn around as I expect him to, which leaves me standing awkwardly between the doorway and the register, wondering if I should call attention to myself before he realizes I’m there.
“We’re not open just yet—”
Swallowing, I go, “H-Hi.”
Kevin is taller than a lot of men in our town. At six feet four inches, he towers over a great deal of the male population of Butterpond. There is a big picture of him and his basketball teammates hanging on the wall outside of the gymnasium of the local high school, and if you ever eavesdropped on a group of boys standing by it, one of them was bound to claim he would be just as tall as Kevin someday and join the NBA.
Drew and Kevin graduated together. They were best friends once. The two of them were ‘two peas in a pod;’ consistently side-by-side growing up. Good thing, too, and perhaps only natural, since our father and Kevin’s were also best friends since childhood.
When Hailey’s body was found in the backseat of Kevin’s Mazda, no one knew what to think. The best friend? It was a story which ran for exactly six hours before Drew turned himself in, unbeknownst to our family. My mother cried a lot that day, and so did Joey and I. Dad was a rock—his go-to emotion of choice. I can’t say much has changed since then.
Kevin never said a word about what happened the night they found Hailey in his car. Not to his lawyer, not to his family, not to us, and especially not to any reporter. An out-of-town podcaster running a true crime podcast reached out to him a week after they buried Hailey, and despite how much money they offered for Kevin’s story, he stayed mute. Whether it was because he was hiding something or because of his loyalty to my brother, no one knows.
And as I stand here, in Kevin’s shop a year after the last time I saw him, I wonder how many secrets Kevin still keeps.
“YN...”
I do my best to ignore the pang in my chest upon hearing the surprise in his tone as I take two steps forward. Kevin’s light brown eyes follow my footwork until I am standing less than a metre away from him. I can only imagine what I look like to him in this moment.
Growing up, Kevin would often refer to Joey and I as his siblings, too, due entirely to the fact that he spent enough time at our house to warrant it. It was fun having Kevin around. He and Drew would play video games together or show us scary movies which we later had to lie to our parents about, and on the odd weekend, they would let us join them for fun activities, too.
I missed Kevin all these months because even though I had never said it out loud, I thought of Kevin as my big brother, too.
“How have you been?”
Kevin moves towards me with one step in my direction but then stops, like he’s afraid of the closeness. In a quiet voice, he replies, “I’m fine... what are you doing here?”
There is no one else inside the shop, but it feels like I’m being watched by a hundred people when I reach inside my tote bag for my resume. I hold it out for Kevin’s uncertain hands. “I want to work here.”
Kevin’s eyes snap up. “What?”
“You’re hiring, aren’t you?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“I saw your job posting at the grocery store over the weekend,” I add in before he can talk me out of my request. “You need someone to work in the back of the shop.”
The hand holding my resume falls limply to his side, effectively sending my heart into overdrive. Please, please don’t say no. I need this. “YN, I can’t—” A sigh escapes him as he places my resume atop a nearby box. “I can’t hire you for that job, YN. Please look somewhere else.”
“But... why?”
“I just can’t.”
When Kevin turns around, I know exactly what he’s about to do. As someone who does it quite often, it is easy enough to note the signs on another person—Kevin is going to walk away and hope I take a hint to do the same.
But I won’t.
Because I need this job.
Besides the fact that this may be the only place in town where I can still walk in without covering my face with a mask or a hoodie, this is also the only place which receives less than a few customers a day, meaning I don’t have to face anyone who would spit on me without thinking twice. I can lie to myself all I want, but I’m not as strong as I thought I would be when my father said you’re the oldest now after they took Andrew away for the last time.
“Kevin.” Saying his name rings a bell inside my heart, somewhere deep and lonely. Perhaps it is because I haven’t said it for months and months. Or maybe, it’s because of the way he turns back around with pained eyes I’m nowhere used to seeing on him. My words are wobbly as they murmur, “Please, Kev. You’re the only one who—”
The sound of a heavy door bursting open tears us away from the disagreement. The back door of the sports shop swings open to reveal a familiar bed of brown curls, and sun kissed skin. His skin shimmers where the short sleeves of his white Calvin Klein shirt don’t reach, exposed biceps curling to accompany the grip his hands have on a small box he carries in.
Conrad does not notice me at all, and says to Kevin, “Diego dropped these off. Should I put it next to the baseball gear?” And then he does notice me and with the way his eyes darken, I wish I had taken the initiative to hide when he was unaware of my presence.
“YN was just leaving—”
“No, I’m not leaving.” The tone and finality of my voice scares even me as I stand my ground before the older man. Though my hands shake a bit, I argue, “You can’t d-discriminate against me for this job.”
Kevin’s shoulder slump into a position which tells me he has lost, at least a little bit. Sighing to himself, he tells Conrad, “Put it down by the baseball gear. I’ll take a look at it later.” To me, Kevin asks, “Can you lift more than 50 kilograms?” But before I can reply, he shakes his head and says, “I know you can’t, so just... just be careful, YN. Please.”
I hold my breath until Kevin walks off, heading for Conrad who won’t stop staring at me. I turn around and squat to untie my shoelaces just to re-tie them. Anything to get him to stop gazing my way. I used to dream about the day when Conrad wouldn’t be able to stop himself from looking at me, but now that the day is here, all I want is to go back to the way things used to be.
In more ways than one.
“Hails... don’t be mad...”
My best friend blinks up at me, probably thankful for the minute-long holiday from her sixth grade math homework. “What’s up?”
“I think I like—” I squeeze a sofa cushion closer to my face as a fierce blush blossoms over my cheeks. “IlikeTaehyung.”
“What?”
“IthinkIlikeConrad.”
Hailey tears the cushion off and throws it aside. “Say it again. I couldn’t hear you.”
With a sharp inhale, I whisper, “I like Conrad.”
Hailey’s shoulders drop. Her face is expressionless. “My brother, Conrad?”
“Y-Yeah...”
Suddenly, Hailey’s face breaks out into the biggest grin I’ve ever seen on her. She looks like she could explode from joy. It makes my heart grow calmer. “YN! What?! Really?! Do you really like Connie?!”
“Yes...”
“This is so perfect!”
“Really?
“Of course it is! My two best friends liking each other! What could be more perfect than that!”
“I don’t think Conrad likes me, though...” I start playing with a loose string, twisting it around my forefinger. “He doesn’t even notice me. He just plays soccer or guitar all day.”
Hailey smirks. “Sure he does. He asked me what he should get you for your birthday.”
My brows pull together as confusion floods through me. “But my birthday is seven months away.”
“Exactly.”
. . .
Everything in my chest twists and burns as I reach down for the first box of men’s winter jackets.
There are approximately four boxes of unsold menswear from the winter season which never sold out. Kevin asked me to tape them up and place them in the back, behind all the new summer items like flip-flops and sun tan lotion. I hadn’t expected the task to be so daunting. After only a few minutes of heavy lifting, my arms hurt so much that I’m afraid they may never regain proper mobility.
The pain makes me realization I am not cut out for this job despite how much I wanted it last week. But when I compare this pain to the one of feeling stuck in this little town, I ignore my body’s cries and keep pushing.
Kevin isn’t around a lot, preferring to work in his little office where no voices can be heard coming out. But everywhere I turn, Conrad is there. He mans the register six out of the eight hours we work, and when he isn’t doing that, he strolls around the shop fixing and rearranging items on shelves that look as though they have not been touched since they were placed there.
Most of my time at the shop is spent trying to pretend I don’t notice him. But in trying not to notice him, I only end up noticing him more. Like the way he stands by the water dispenser for minutes at a time, drinking out of the small, paper cups until they get soggy instead of using a bottle. Or how he makes funny faces at himself in the store window whenever he’s bored (he’s very good at doing a horrible Joker impression. Or that he calls his grandmother every other day to check up on her, and uses the gentlest voice in order to do so. Or the fact that he pretends I don’t exist even if I walk right past him.
I know the right thing to do is to feel thankful, but I don’t. I just feel hurt, and upset, and alone. Which, considering the circumstances, is not only disrespectful to his sister’s memory, but agonizingly inhumane on my part. I’m making everything about us, when it isn’t, and that’s why, after a week of working away at Kevin’s little sports shop, I think about quitting every few hours. I feel selfish in believing I shouldn’t for the sake of Joey and me.
A knock sounds at the door as I’m lifting the very last box onto a sturdy shelf. My chest heaves once I lodge it up there with the rest of the boxes which will hopefully stay put until the next time Kevin decides to bring them out.
I move to the door as another knock flitters past, and before I decide to take a seat on the dirty floor of the backroom. My fingers are numb as they twist the door handle and reveal an expressionless Kevin standing behind it. He keeps his gaze locked on a spot behind me as he speaks, and yet again, I feel out-of-place.
“It’s lunch time,” he murmurs in a voice which tells me he wishes he didn’t have to speak to me at all. And I end up hating myself a little more for putting him in such a position. “Go and take a break.”
Giving him a simple nod, I watch Kevin walk away, probably to inform Conrad of the same thing. Movement by the front door tells me that Kevin is locking up for the next hour, as is customary for lunch. I go to the small lockers where I keep my things and pull out my lunch bag. It swings from my fingers as I move to the back door, using all my strength to push it open.
Outside, the early July sun waves hello as I find my spot closest to the door. Then, I reach inside my lunch bag and pull out an old bed sheet with the Power Rangers on it that Joey used to sleep on. Laying it on the gravel, I push down the ends as much as I can then take a seat in a criss-cross position.
For lunch today, I packed some of last night’s leftovers: a glass noodle stir-fry I learned how to make off a TikTok recipe. Dad pretended to like it for the sake of me being his daughter, Mom hardly touched hers, while Joey asked for chicken nuggets instead. I didn’t think the noodles were too bad, but if I could choose between this lunch and a Big Mac, I know which one I’d pick in a heartbeat.
I swirl the noodles around with my chopsticks as a group of ants slowly trek their way up and onto my makeshift picnic blanket. They must have smelt the food and announced it to their troop.
Smilingly, I reach inside my Tupperware of noodles and locate a slice of beef then lay it on the cloth. Almost instantly, they all jump for the meat and take it away with them. I do this a few more times until all that’s left in my lunchbox are a few strings of noodles that look even less appetizing than before. So I cover it up and set it aside, then reach for a cosmic brownie I promised myself I wouldn’t eat but can’t help myself to now when my stomach grumbles out of hunger.
I’m nearing the end of the exceptionally delicious brownie when the door swings open, nearly slapping me in the face. Okay, bad lunch spot. Further away from the door next time, YN.
“What are you doing...?” It’s Conrad, and he’s staring at me like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. I lower my head out of instinct. He must notice my set up because his next question is, “You eat lunch out here?”
I nod so I don’t have to verbally reply, and also so that I don’t actually have to lift my head and talk.
“I thought you went to McDonald’s or something...” I’m silent as well unmoving in the hope that maybe he will walk back inside without questioning me further. But that’s not the case when he goes on to ask, “Why don’t you eat in the staff room?” The staff room he’s referring to is the small room next to Kevin’s office and the bathroom. It has exactly one table with two seats, a mini microwave, a kettle, and a box of napkins. I would be both stupid and heartless (perhaps more than I already am) if I sat myself in that room next to Conrad in silence while we ate our lunch.
But now, Conrad is waiting for an answer I don’t want to give him, but one which I have to. “I didn’t... um... I didn’t want to bother you...”
“By eating your lunch?” I stay quiet again, and I can almost hear him rolling his eyes. “It’s not like I care where you eat your lunch, but just eat in the staff room from now on. I don’t want to be held responsible for you bringing bugs into the shop.”
I know that he knows his argument is weak, and that it’s just his inherent goodness talking, so I nod and agree. Conrad doesn’t stay outside for much longer after that. I don’t know what he came out here for, and he never shows me. After he leaves, I wait a few minutes before heading inside and to the lockers.
Kevin is waking up from his short nap and as he passes me by, he tells me to finish logging all the winter boxes into the system. It’s one of the various tasks I have to deal with, and in my opinion, probably the most difficult. I know next to nothing about Excel spreadsheets, but Kevin doesn’t know that so he’s never tutored me on it. Most of the time, I turn to Youtube or Google to help me figure it out. Now if only the physical labour was as simple.
The shop has been pretty empty today. Most days are like this considering the fact that summer only just started and a lot of the town folk go on vacation during this time. Kevin tells me that the shop doesn’t see an increase in sales until at least late July, when the vacationers return and their kids start asking for new shoes or sports gear.
As I’m finishing up the winter log, the front door chimes, announcing the arrival of a customer. When I take a peek outside, from where my door was left ajar, I notice Mrs. Bloom and her son, Cody, walk in.
Mrs. Bloom is the wife of the town’s grocery store owner, Mr. Bloom of Blooming Butterpond. Everyone who lives in our town gets their groceries from them. Their prices are reasonable, and their customer service is alright, but I still know a lot of people who order their spices online. The Blooms are one of the richest families in town and anyone who is anyone knows who they are. Mrs. Bloom is especially popular. She is friends with nearly all the women in town, young and old. Back before Andrew’s arrest, she used to be friends with my mother, too. She would come around for afternoon tea sometimes or invite our family to picnics by the lake. Daniel and her older son, Brandon, knew each other from football, too, though they were separated by a three year age gap.
Mrs. Bloom stopped calling and visiting our house first. After she did, all the other women in town followed. One by one, they all cut our family off— terrified for their own sons and daughters.
I haven’t seen nor heard Mrs. Bloom’s voice since last winter, when she gave the local news station a personal account of my brother’s violent upbringing. Not that she was even a part of it. Andrew wasn’t even born in Butterpond, but on the other side of the country while our parents were on vacation.
“Conrad, honey, hello,” Mrs. Bloom’s voice chirps. It is cheery and full of delight, and everything which screams I come from a lot of money. “How have you been, sweetheart? I haven’t seen you around these days. Are you eating well? How’s your family?”
Conrad’s voice is less bubbly. “It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Bloom. I’m fine and so are my parents.” I peek my head our further to watch him smile at Cody, a boy only a few months younger than my baby brother. “Hey, Cody. How’s soccer going?”
“I made captain!”
“No way! High five!” Cody jumps high to slap his palm against Conrad’s. The boy I haven’t seen smile all week is nothing but in front of the customers.
Mrs. Bloom ruffles her son’s hair and grins at Conrad with pearly white teeth. “We came here to get Cody some new running shoes and grab Brandon’s new football gear. Can you help us out today?”
“Of course. Please, follow me.”
As Conrad leads them to the section of the shop where we keep kids’ running shoes, I slowly back away from the door and shut it behind me. Knowing myself, I’ll keep listening just to give myself something to do now that I’ve completed the winter log. And knowing Mrs. Bloom, my employment here will become the talk of the town if she sees me.
For the next few minutes, I busy myself with the physical inventory list Kevin keeps by the door. Flip-flops, swim trunks, swimsuits, sun-tan lotion, sunscreen, surf boards... After a minute or so of reading, the words seem to pile together until they may as well have been written in a foreign language. When my eyes begin to blur with the strained ill movement of my eyes, I look away, blinking furiously.
That’s when I hear two taps at the door—Conrad’s knock.
I slowly pull it open to reveal Conrad standing there, as expressionless as Kevin was a few hours ago.
“Uh... yeah?”
Conrad holds up a yellow Post-It note sprawled with his messy handwriting. “I need these Nikes in size 7.” Then he pushes the paper my way before I can ask him to hold on while I go and find it.
The Nikes Cody wants are a limited edition pair of running shoes which came out only a month ago. I read about their stock number in the shop on my first day working here since Kevin wanted me to be well-aware of which shoes would be likely to sell out first and where to quickly locate them. The only thing is... Mrs. Bloom and her son are the first customers to come asking for them since I started my job, and I’ve long since forgotten what I learned last week about running shoes.
I walk through the men’s shoe aisle, scanning the boxes as quickly as possible while flipping through the inventory list just as fast.
“Level 2, Box 2C...”
Level 2 is high enough for me to need a ladder, which I pull to my side from the very end of the aisle. The ladder is shaky as I ground my foot onto the first step, careful to hold onto something so that I don’t fall off-balance. It takes me a few tries to control my breathing as I stand on top of the ladder, but eventually I’m able to find the box I’m looking for and reach inside it. The shoe box is wrapped with a thick film of bubble wrap, which I manage to tear off as soon as I’m back on solid ground.
Taking a deep breath, I squeeze my fingers to pump some energy back inside me before pulling the door open. Much to my surprise, Conrad isn’t there like I expected him to be. With confusion growing in the pit of my stomach, I glance around several times to see if maybe he was scrolling through his phone close by, but he isn’t. He isn’t there at all.
I don’t know what I’m doing when I slowly walk out of the back room and towards the main part of the shop where anyone could see me. Usually, I never walk out when we have customers. I know Kevin has never said it, but his eyes on the day he gave me this job was enough to tell me that I wasn’t really allowed out here at all. His shop has been in the family for decades. I can’t allow my family’s reputation to destroy it.
Yet here I am, walking forward with my gut twisting the way my chest was earlier this morning. And when my eyes fall upon the scene I walk up to, the biting sensation strengthens so tight around my ribcage that it is a wonder I am still breathing.
Mrs. Bloom appears to be talking on the phone a little ways away, while Conrad bounces a soccer ball on his knee, seemingly to show Cody how to do it. Cody is smiling and giggling cutely at the way Taehyung appears to mimic real soccer stars. I probably shouldn’t think much of it except that I do. Because this small blip in time marches in tandem with the days Joey would stare up at Conrad with all the love in the world pouring from his sparkly eyes.
“Con, I don’t think Joey will be any good at soccer,” I whisper to the brown haired boy. I feel bad for saying it, but Joey hasn’t always been the greatest at sports. That was more Drew’s forte. But these days, Joey was missing our older brother while he went to visit colleges with our Dad, and he wanted to impress him when Drew returned. “He can’t even throw a ball.”
Conrad grins towards Joey. “Good thing that soccer balls aren’t meant to be thrown.”
I was right in the end—soccer was not Joey’s strong suit. But Conrad was against my ‘poor spirits’ as he called it. He wanted to show Joey that it was perfectly possible for anyone to learn how to play soccer, even if it took some people longer to learn than others. And the thing is, Conrad did show Joey exactly what he set out to do. Over and over again, Hailey and I would be hanging out after school, studying for an upcoming test or painting our nails pretty in pink, and Conrad would come by looking to hang out with my baby brother. Joey loved it. He started calling Conrad his big brother, too, and Conrad wore the badge like an honour.
I’m sniffling back tears before I even realize they’re falling while the shoe box shakes in my hands uncontrollably. That’s when Conrad glances my way, and immediately stops what he’s doing to walk over to me.
“Are you—”
“YN YLN, is that you?” Mrs. Bloom slides past a befuddled Cody and straight up to me, bypassing Conrad who blinks at her aggressive stance. Mrs. Bloom is a woman much taller than I am, and when she stands so close, I feel cornered in, like a mouse with nowhere to run. I try to meet her fiery eyes, but am unable to when she starts speaking again. “What are you doing here?” To Conrad, she incredulously wonders, “Conrad, honey, don’t tell me you work with her?”
“Ma’am, I—”
Mrs. Bloom snaps her gaze to mine. “I’m not speaking to you, YN, now am I? I’m speaking to this poor boy whom you’re troubling with your presence.” Her eyes narrow as they take me in. “The audacity! Do you lack a conscience, YN? A heart? Is your family a pack of wolves?!”
With each word her burgundy painted lips spit my way, my heart crowds in on itself. It’s hard to breathe, and I can feel something thundering inside my chest, willing me to fall to the ground in foetal position until everything around me goes away. It may work out well for her, too, since she’d have plenty of small tidbits to sprinkle her story with for the other town folk to listen to.
Though before I can move out of her atmosphere, Conrad steps forward, and effectively shifts Mrs. Bloom’s attention to himself.
“Mrs. Bloom, let me ring you up,” he suggests with a slight wobble to his voice. His eyes are indecipherable as he looks her way. “I can offer you a fifteen percent summer discount on the shoes.”
As he does so, I use the back of my hand to push away my tears and square my shoulders. This is not the worst thing you have ever been through, I remind myself as I start walking back to the inventory room. I can still hear the chattering of Mrs. Bloom and Conrad at the register when I touch the doorknob. Then, as I start to pull it open, I hear Conrad call my name.
He’s right behind me wearing an uncertain expression. It’s one I can fully read this time, and it sets my gut aflame.
“Yeah...?”
“Mrs. Bloom, she...” he raises his arm to rub the back of his neck, both awkward and unsure. “She wants you to carry Brandon’s football gear to her car.”
“M-Me?”
“Yeah.”
I do my best to ignore the way my chest tightens again. My still-damp eyes swim to the front door where Mrs. Bloom stands waiting for me, one hand on her hip and frown evident even from afar. Gathering my strength, I nod at Conrad then move towards the older woman who huffs as I reach down to pick up the box. Just like all the boxes have been today, this one is heavy, too, and I struggle to hold it up. My weak arms shake with the intensity of the weight as I walk through the door, noticing Conrad trail behind me and up to the register.
Mrs. Bloom’s car is parked right outside the shop. It’s a silver Hyundai Palisade with a personalized licence plate which brokenly spells out her first name. As I stand there on the concrete waiting for directions about what to do with the box, Mrs. Bloom helps Cody with his seat belt. I shift on my feet as I wait, trying to imagine what worlds are inside this box which make it so hefty while she finishes up. Afterwards, she flips open the trunk then stands behind me as I try to place the box inside. Except, there’s no space since the entire trunk is filled with groceries.
Awkwardly, I stutter, “M-Mrs. Bloom, w-what should I do with the, um... with the groceries?”
“Move them, obviously.”
I don’t argue with her and start moving the plastic bags around. Her gaze is hawk-like as she watches my timid movements shuffling vegetables and produce aside to make space for the sports equipment. Eventually, I find enough space to fit the box and load it in. Then before I can move my hand away rapidly enough, Mrs. Bloom nearly closes the trunk on them.
With my heart pulsing a mile a second, I’m stupid enough to think this is all she will do when I take a step back and she turns around. In a split moment, her full hand comes flying my way, striking my right cheek.
Splintering agony explodes behind my eyelids and throughout the expanse of my brain, causing my eyes to squeeze shut involuntarily. My nose makes a weird sort of sound as Mrs. Bloom’s hand moves back, and she snickers.
“Your family will pay with hell for what they did to poor Hailey and the Fishers,” she spits while I use my utmost power to stop my shaking hands from reaching for my face, lest I show her disrespect. “I don’t know where you found the nerve to work here, but rest assured that one of these days, someone will come along to put you in place!”
I don’t get to say anything to her as she huffs one last time before climbing into her car and driving away. From the backseat, Cody stares at me out the window.
The walk back to the shop is harder than I imagined it would be. With my stinging cheek and my shaking limbs, it’s difficult to ground myself in the reality I’m living. But then I think about Conrad behind the register, and how I don’t want him to see me like this. I start rubbing both my cheeks as I near the door and by the time I’m grabbing the handle to open it, I hope against hope that Conrad will not question me.
Then my hope breaks when he does.
“YN...” His quiet voice is a thousand sad songs bursting through to my veins simultaneously. I know he saw everything. “Are you... okay?”
“Mhm.”
“You should have—” Conrad cuts himself off. Should have... what? Stood up for himself against her accusations which you and the rest of the town share? “Go take a break or... something. I’ll let Kevin know—”
“No, I’m fine.”
“YN.”
I lock eyes with him. “I’m fine, Cnrad. There’s no need for you to worry about me. I can handle myself.”
And with that, I walk off to the washroom before he gains anymore courage to destroy me with words which hurt lightyears more than his silence.
“Connie, I’m fine—”
Conrad gently blows on the scratch against my leg where I fell of his new bike.
I had been wanting to ride it all week and he had finally giving me the chance to do so, only to have me fall off barely a minute into riding. Now the two of us were sitting on the end of a sidewalk, while I tried to hold back tears as the pain from my small wound tore away at my nine year old heart.
“I’m sorry, YN,” Conrad whispers as tears pebble along his waterline. He stares up at me worriedly. “I should have held onto you longer. I didn’t know you were going to fall off like that.”
I smile to comfort him in the place of my hand which was too afraid to touch him just yet. “If I’m with you, I don’t care about falling.”
. . .
My car won’t start.
It is well into mid-July now and the nighttime air feels muddier than the crisp air our town experiences the remainder of the year. It’s obnoxiously hot, and despite the air conditioning I was stationed next to for the past eight and a half hours, it feels like pure torture to be fighting with my car’s engine out in the parking lot where Kevin’s car is missing.
Kevin and Drew used to work on my car all the time. Well, back then it was Drew’s car and he adored taking care of it as if Esmerelda was his daughter (yes, he named her, and no, I was not allowed to change her name). Drew took care of her all throughout high school and when he moved away, he passed the car along to me seeing as his college town was well-equipped with accessible public transportation. I think he just wanted me to have a car so I wouldn’t have to ask our parents for rides anymore.
Drew loved Esmerelda no matter what—even when she gave him a hard time. Whenever that would happen, he and Kevin would spend hours gruelling over her ‘body parts’ and experimenting with different techniques to fix her from videos they found on YouTube. Kevin was always more hands-on, though, and managed to figure out the problem much faster than Drew did. But during the short time they managed a makeshift mechanic shop out of our family garage one summer, they both took credit for the work.
I wish Kevin was here right now to help me with my car.
I don’t know how to get home without it. Calling Dad during this hour would mean that he would have to drive after drinking, which obviously wasn’t happening. Mom would not bother to answer her phone and even if she did, the last thing she would be capable of doing it getting behind the wheel to come pick me up from a job I have yet to tell anyone but Joey about. Thinking of Joey, I wish to all the stars above me right now that Joey could magically come and save me. Or that I could save myself from this mess.
I just want to go home and take a shower.
Today was a bad, bad, bad day and I just want to wash everything about it down the drain so I no longer have to sit with the motions and decode them.
Am I getting punished by God for what my brother did? Am I a monster for working next to Conrad when my family is the reason why his is missing a piece? Am I stupid enough to believe that I’m not awful?
As I’m contemplating all of these questions, Conrad walks out the front door, then locks it behind him. His motions are quick—focused, as if he’s closed up shop a thousand times before. I wonder if that’s true. Conrad didn’t go back to school like he was supposed to, and everyone in town spread rumours about where he may have gone and what he was doing when he got back. Because the sports shop is a relatively slow business most days, it doesn’t take much guessing to understand that a lot of townsfolk probably don’t even know that he works here yet. Or they do and they have just decided to move on from gossip about the Fisher family.
“YN.”
There is an uncomfortable edge to his voice coupled with surprise. He says my name like he hates saying it. Hates knowing that I’m here and that he has to put up with me. I hate that I’ve put him in this position.
“Hey, uh—”
“Why didn’t you go home yet?”
I shift so he can see the upturned hood of my car. “My car won’t, um, it won’t start.”
“Then take the bus.”
His nonchalance as he starts walking towards his own car stops me from answering him. Instead, I start patting my jeans to look for my phone. I find it in my back pocket and pull it out. Google Maps says my taxi fare would be around fifty dollars, bearing traffic in mind, if I call for one right now. The last bus to my neighbourhood stopped running at least an ago. I don’t think Conrad knows this.
Suddenly, a car horn beeps at me.
Conrad sits behind the wheel of his car looking stoic and tense. His knuckles are burned tight around the wheel, gripping it with his might. Up above, thunder rolls across the once clear sky. Was it supposed to rain tonight? As I look up to inspect the droplets of rain, Conrad sticks his head out the window.
“Get in.”
“Why?”
He rolls his eyes. “It’s raining. I don’t want to be responsible for you taking a sick day tomorrow.”
I don’t want to be held responsible for you bringing bugs into the shop.
His earlier words ring fierce in my ears even as I shut the hood of my car, lock it, then get into the passenger seat of Conrad’s Toyota Camry. Doing so hits me with the regret of not sliding into the backseat. Now I’m going to have to share even closer space with him inside a car that already feels like it’s suffocating me.
Without a word more, Conrad backs out of the parking lot.
We drive in silence for a few minutes. It’s not as though I expected either of us to fill it, although it does remind of the days when laughter was the tune of choice which played for hours and hours inside this car.
Conrad would drive Hailey and our friends around sometimes, or he’d bring his friend, Trevor, and the four of us would go exploring out of town. We’d always get in big, big trouble with our parents (I was grounded for a whole month one time), but it was worth it. None of us ever regret what we did together. We had all the pictures and videos and memories to prove that our youth was something beautiful.
I train my gaze on the tote bag I carry everywhere with me. Hand-stitched words read, trust the timing of your life, with Hailey’s name stitched at the bottom. I fold the bag over so Conrad doesn’t notice it.
“You don’t have to take me all the way home. I can—”
Conrad reaches out to flip the radio on. The chorus of a loud pop song starts to blare. I think it’s Dua Lipa.
A bead of sweat forms and trickles down the back of my neck, and my hands start to shiver. I squeeze them into fists under the tote so he doesn’t notice them either. I sit like this for the remainder of the ride, hating myself for accepting it when I could have sat just as uncomfortably inside a taxi.
When we were kids, Conrad and Hailey used to put on mini musicals for their parents. They were both pretty decent at singing, and loved the attention, so it made sense that they would show off for their family who adored them.
Conrad loved to sing oldies music, like the kind you would have heard on the radio in the 70s and 80s. They were his parents’ favourite, and anything they liked, Conrad would instantly grow an attachment to, as if his life’s purpose was to please his mother and father.
I always admired that about him, especially since my own relationship with my parents was something I felt as though I was always building towards but was never truly mine. And after Drew went to prison, what was left of our relationship disappeared for good.
Dad tries his best to stay out of the house as much as he can, and Mom never speaks to me unless she has to. Sometimes weeks pass and I wonder if she even remembers me and Joey’s names.
We are nearing a red light when the song changes. It’s a song I would recognize anywhere, and I know Conrad would, too. What Makes You Beautiful, the song of our summers. The three of us would sing it loud and proud everywhere we went, not caring who saw or heard us. Those were the moments when I truly felt like I belonged to my friends, like they were really mine and not someone else’s.
I clench my hands tighter as Conrad starts to hum along. He doesn’t belt the song like he used to, when he would use old plastic bottles as a microphone and make his sister and me laugh until our bellies hurt.
I don’t know when I start crying. When the first tear hits my tote and melts against the fabric, I try to sniffle up the rest so Conrad wouldn’t see them, but the effort is futile because the boy next to me snickers and commands, “Don’t cry in my car.” Then turns the radio off.
Conrad doesn’t say anything else to me as we drive up to my house. The lights are off and it looks like no one is home except for the small lamp emitting light from Joey’s room.
Conrad stops the car at the edge of my street and just stares. I wish I knew what he was thinking. All my childhood was spent hoping that I would one day be able to read Conrad Fisher’s mind without him ever having to speak. But I never did.
The street light is faint so I clutch my phone in my hand as I walk out, careful to whisper my ‘thank you’ instead of voicing it normally. Conrad ignores me and keeps staring at my house.
There is so much I want to say to him, and talk to him about. We used to be able to talk about most things with ease. Laughed about them, too. Everything from cartoons to school to politics. Now it feels like we are both shells of the people we used to be.
I walk along the sidewalk with my phone flashlight guiding me. The walk is short enough, but I don’t want to risk the fall over something I can’t see. When I get to the house, I use whatever ounce of courage I have left inside me to look back. To my surprise, Conrad is still there. It’s too far to see in the dark, so I don’t know if he’s still staring at the house or waiting for me to go inside, but I tell myself it’s the former only so I don’t stay up all night wondering about the latter.
. . .
Mom is wailing in her room.
I hear it sometime after breakfast, when I’m washing the dishes and thinking about what to cook for dinner. Dad is passed out in the basement from the night before and I know better than to ask him to check on her.
I make Joey put in ear plugs before I walk to her room.
The door is locked, as it always is, so I go to my room and retrieve my extra set of keys. I also grab a bottle of water that was sitting on my nightstand.
Mom is curled up into a ball at the foot of her bed—her position of choice on the less than normal days.
I place my arm under her body and help her up, sitting her against the fabric headboard. She sniffles but doesn’t say anything. I use the back of my hand to wipe her cheeks then help her take small sips of the water.
Following the second sip, she murmurs, “Is Joey okay?”
“Yes,” I reply, ignoring the pang of hurt which bursts my chest open. Are you going to ask about me, too? I smile and add, “We just had breakfast. Overnight oats and French Toast.”
“Okay,” she nods, but I’m not sure if she completely understands. “Take care of Joey. He needs to drink his milk.”
“Yes, Mom.”
I leave the room promising to bring her breakfast in a few minutes, but the wailing starts up again as soon as my foot touches the top of the stairs. I shake my head and keep walking.
Joey takes out his earplugs as soon as he sees me come down. There is a look on his face which tells me he’s terrified that something has happened to our mother. I wrap him up in a hug before he can question me about it. I’m thankful then, that Joey isn’t one of those kids who hates being touched. These days, he is the only reason I manage to keep myself upright.
“Wanna go to the park?”
My brother looks up at me with wide eyes. “Really? Can we get ice cream?”
I ruffle his hair just the way he likes and nod my approval. “Go grab your soccer ball. We’ll head out in ten minutes.”
. . .
When we get to the park, I’m grateful for its emptiness. Less people means less eyes and less gossip for Joey to hear.
I throw a smile toward my little brother. “Do you wanna go on the swings first or play soccer?”
“Swings!”
So that’s what we do.
Joey and I both get on the swings together then make a competition about who can go the highest. I’m terrified of heights, absolutely hate them with all my being, but seeing the blissful expression on my brother’s face makes me fight off the demons which demand I stay on solid ground. We swing and swing for minutes until Joey jumps off while still in the air. I scream-laugh his name as he grins, waiting for me to hop down, too.
“That was so scary!”
“You’re a wimp!”
Joey giggles as I chase him down to the grassy area where he placed his soccer ball. When I’m close enough to reach it, I kick the ball with all my strength so that it goes flying over to the other side. Joey laughs and runs after it, his little legs taking him far and far off until I all I can see is his mop of dark hair and blue shorts.
I stand rooted in my spot, waiting for him to kick the ball to me, yet, when he does, the ball spirals past and hits the foot of someone standing behind me. I turn around to apologize only to find Conrad staring at me, the same way he was staring at my house last night.
Of their own accord, my feet shuffle back, and I’m scared all over again. Joey slowly walks up and instead of jumping up for Conrad as he always used to, my little brother hides behind my legs. His hands are shaky as they clutch the material of my pants, and I know, without even looking at him, that he wants to go home.
“It’s okay,” I whisper so only Joey will hear. I place my hand over his and gently pull him to stand next to me. “We’ll go, okay? Let’s go—”
But then Conrad surprises us by bouncing the soccer ball on his right knee. He makes a show of bouncing it three times before catching the ball and placing it under his arm. Taking a step closer to Joey, Conrad gets down on one knee and smiles at my brother.
“Can I play with you?”
Joey’s eyes widen, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. I’m sure mine look the same. “Really?”
Conrad grins. It’s the first time I’ve seen him smile in months. “Yes.”
Joey loosens his grip on my pants and looks up. “Can I, YN?”
Conrad doesn’t glance my way, but I can’t help but stare at him. What is he playing at? I don’t care if he hurts me, but the idea of him hurting Joey makes me want to hurl. I’ve never been a strong person—emotionally nor physically, but for Joey, I would do anything.
I need Conrad to know this.
Clearing my throat, I say to Conrad, “Do you really want to play soccer with him?”
“Yeah, I do.” He looks up. “What? You don’t want me to?”
Joey makes a noise and pulls on my pants. He doesn’t want me to ruin his chances of playing soccer with Conrad again. “N-No, that’s not—” I swallow my fear. “Fine. Thank—”
Conrad gets up and looks directly into my eyes. I’m not prepared for the way it makes me tremble. His eyes are full of anger and resentment, and a darkness which I would have thought unfathomable a year ago. “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for him. He didn’t do anything wrong, so don’t thank me.”
He didn’t do anything wrong?
What?
As Conrad takes Joey by the hand and starts to lead him away, I fall onto a park bench thinking, then what did I do wrong, Connie?
. . .
Conrad is eating a sandwich that looks days old.
I don’t mean to sneak glances at his meal while I eat my own, but I can’t help it when the rancid smell of the sandwich attacks my nostrils. I don’t think he even knows it’s rotten. Or maybe he doesn’t care.
I do, and I hate that I still do.
I push my bag of chips his way. Conrad looks down at like I’ve offered him tiny mice. His face twists into an irritated shape, but he doesn’t deny himself the barbeque flavoured junk food I bought on my way to work this morning.
We sit in silence while we eat. This is only the second time I’ve eaten in the staff room, and I’m already regretting it. None of the food I eat comfortably trails down my esophagus and into my stomach. It seems to lodge first in my mouth then at the edge of my throat, as if my body is waiting for further instructions.
Conrad finishes the bag of chips within a few minutes, and I know he wants to apologize for eating all of it, but he holds himself back. He doesn’t want to say anything to me, and for that, I release a slow exhale. I don’t want to strike up a conversation with him either.
Pulling out my phone, I start to scroll through Instagram. Hundreds of pictures litter my phone screen of people my age having the time of their lives in Cancun or LA. Photographs of boys in swim trunks hugging girls in colourful swimsuits; pictures of past friends having a picnic by a sparkling lake; and photos of people celebrating summer birthdays. It reminds me of Hailey, and how her birthday is at the end of this month.
Tears sting my eyes.
I miss her. I miss my best friend. I want to turn back time. I want to fix the hurt my family has given to everyone in this town. I want everything to be okay again.
I don’t realize that I’m sniffling until Conrad clears his throat. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand before looking up at him. His eyes—dark, mysterious, and totally unreadable—are staring at my phone. Or rather, what’s behind my phone case.
I turn the phone over. There is a picture of Hailey and me from our first day of second grade. That was also the day we decided to become best friends forever following an entire summer of playdates at each other’s houses. Hailey was wearing a purple shorts with a white shirt and I was wearing white shorts with a purple shirt. We had picked the outfit together when our mothers took us shopping for back-to-school clothes.
Hailey has her arm thrown over my shoulder while I’m clutching her waist, smiling as widely as she is. The backdrop is our second grade classroom before all the other kids came rushing in. We have one with our teacher, too, but I like this picture more because it’s just the two of us. Two best friends who thought nothing in the world could ever harm them or their friendship.
Conrad grabs my phone out of my hands before I can fully register what’s happening. He tears the case off and reaches inside for the picture. I don’t know what to think as he stares down at it with an unfamiliar expression spreading over his features. His chest heaves, though, and his shoulders tense. Whatever he’s thinking, it isn’t good.
My theory is proven correct when the next second, Conrad rips the photograph in half. Then in quarters. Then in tiny little pieces which scatter over the lunch table like shards of shattered glass.
“Wha—”
His eyes snap up, and this time, they are black. “You don’t get to grieve her,” he retorts. A single tear escapes his eye and falls down his cheek. “She was my sister. My family. You don’t get to fucking grieve her death.”
My heart and lungs and probably ever other organ freezes as his eyes bear into mine. I’m unmoving but even that feels tenacious in the given situation. Conrad’s white shirt expands with the punch of his shaky exhale while his hands clench firmly on the table. I bite my lip and look down, lowering my gaze.
Every inch of my heart is hammering, like some strange person is whacking at it ferociously. I move one of my hands to grip the table, but Conrad hits his fist against it. Instantly, my clammy palm moves away from the shaking table. For the first time in my life, I’m petrified of Conrad Fisher, and the suffocating feeling which swam over our heads only a minute ago transforms into deeply sorrowful fear.
My lunch box is still shaking when he growls, “You don’t even regret it, do you?”
“I—”
Another tear drips down his cheek. “Hailey dated that bastard brother of yours and died for it, and you don’t give a single fuck.” He places his trembling right hand on the table and splays his fingers out over the cold material. “Why do you get to live a normal life when he took hers away? Huh? Why?! Why, YN?!” When I don’t answer, Conrad grabs the table and flings it so it hits the wall behind him. Terrified, I rise from my chair and move back, but he’s faster. He gets up close to me and says, “Why didn’t you die? Why couldn’t he have taken his anger out on you? My sister—” I try to hold back, but when a sob wracks through my body, Conrad’s anger deepens. “I told you not to fucking cry in front of me.”
This only makes me cry harder. I feel like my mother as I stand in front of Conrad crying worse than I have in weeks. A choking feeling rises in my chest and squeezes my ribs tight. I just want this nightmare to end. I wish it was me who died instead of Hailey. I wish it every night before bed, and especially now, when Conrad looks at me with fury lining his irises.
I want the ground to open up and take me. I wouldn’t argue. I would just go.
But then the door is being smacked open and Kevin is staring at the two of us with confusion.
He looks at me first, with my tear-stained cheeks and frightened stance, then at Conrad, who takes a step back immediately after seeing Kevin. He doesn’t look at me again as he darts past the older man and out to the store.
“YN, are you—?”
I wipe at my cheeks and force a smile. “I’m fine, Kevin. Don’t worry.”
“Should I talk to him—?”
“No!” My loudness is a surprise to both of us. Swallowing, I try again. “No, please don’t talk to him. Nothing happened. I’m completely fine. We j-just a- a... um, it was a misunderstanding. We’re fine. C-Completely fine.”
Kevin doesn’t believe and I know it. But I don’t want him to fire Conrad or worse—talk to him about what just happened. It might actually kill me.
For the next few hours, I stay far and away from Conrad. When I need to go to the bathroom, I triple check the room before scrambling like towards it like a mouse. When I’m thirsty, I beg my stomach to hold onto until I get home to drink water. And when I feel the urge to check on him, sneaking peeks the way I’ve been doing for the last two weeks, I pinch my wrist and stop myself from doing so. All the while, my heart vibrates from the memory of our clash back in the staff room.
By closing time, Kevin swings by inventory to ask me to take out the trash. “I would ask Conrad, but he’s...”
“I’ll do it.”
Kevin nods. “Thanks, YN. I appreciate it.”
I time myself well.
While Conrad goes to the bathroom, I sprint to the trash bins and pull them out, telling myself I’ll tie them when I get outside. Then I pile up all the recycling in the industrial bin and use my shoulder to push open the back door.
I haven’t been out here after it gets dark. It looks different now that the sun isn’t shining and the birds aren’t chirping and there are no ants I can see well enough to feed.
I tie the garbage bags first. Twisting the plastic around in my fingers, I tie them as tight as I can muster then squish them inside the black garbage bin. Thankfully, there isn’t much trash today so when I practice wheeling the bin, it’s easy enough for me.
Next is the recycling. We always get a lot of that. There are boxes—old and new—and various stacks of paper and other miscellaneous items that need to be properly disposed of. Unlike the garbage bags, I struggle to squeeze all the recyclables into the bin neatly. And as I’m doing so, I hear a distinct kick at garbage bin I left to sit idle behind me.
I turn around to inspect the noise, thinking it’s an animal, when I come face-to-face with Brandon Bloom.
“What are you—?”
Brandon grins, and it feels menacing. Panic flushes my system as I take a step back from the recycling. Brandon takes this as invitation to step closer until I can hear the thick breaths he takes.
“My mom’s been telling the town that you work here,” he says. “Thought I’d come here and see how you’re holding up.”
“W-Why would y-you—?”
Brandon reaches for my wrist and twists it so my skin burns. I yelp, and try to loosen his grip, but he’s holding on too tight.
“You know, YN, your brother...” he grins again, and it makes me feel sick to my stomach. The dread inside me is building and everything I ever learned from self-defence on YouTube slips from my mind. “He used to tell all the guys that your cute ass was off limits. Said you were too young to be with any of us. But then he went and fucked Hailey and none of us knew.” He leans in close to me so I can smell the alcohol on his breath. “I’ve never liked hypocrites, especially ones who tell me what I can and cannot have.” He grabs my throat and squeezes. “Imagine if I fucked you right here, right now. I’d put him in his fucking place then, wouldn’t I? Bet you’d feel so fucking tight around my dick—” I bite down on his hand as hard as I can, tasting copper when he screams and jumps back. I start to run from him, reaching for the door handle, when he pushes my front against it with all his body weight. “Fucking bitch! How dare you?! I’m—”
Brandon is cut off when someone charges at him. A tall body pushes him to the ground and lands two punches straight to his face. I’m trembling as I step back, and blinking so fast that my eyes may as well fall out.
“Fisher, what—?”
Another punch, and this time, it’s one which knocks Brandon out.
The heaviness in my chest grows louder as Conrad slowly stands back up. He tries to take a step towards me but I flinch and move back.
“Are you okay?” As soon as he asks me this question, Conrad’s remorse is visible. He swallows and steps over Brandon’s body to open the door. “Go inside. I’ll take care of this.”
I do as he says and then crawl into a foetal position on the floor of the stock room. A few minutes later, I hear a cop car pull into the parking lot. The lights aren’t flashing, but I can hear the distinct sound of their radios asking for the perpetrator and the victim.
“Drew—Andrew, no! Wait! Officers, this isn’t—“
“Ma’am, please take a step back. I understand that you are in distress but we are only doing our job. Please take a step back from the accused.”
My mother didn’t listen and grabbed my brother’s hands anyway, hands which were bound together by handcuffs. He tried to tell her to stop, but she is a mother and a mother for her child would do anything.
“My son would never do this! Drew would never do this! He’s innocent! Please, just listen! Please—!”
“Mom,” Drew whispered, begging our mother to look his way. “I’m okay. Please go.”
“Drew—”
“Mom,” he tried again, crying this time as several people at the station fell silent. “I didn’t protect her. It’s all my fault.”
. . .
The police officers offer to take me home but I’m not talking. Or moving. I’m not doing much of anything except staring down at my lap as the officers speak to Kevin and Conrad about what happened nearly an hour ago.
I never saw them take Brandon away, but Kevin did, and he confirmed that he would be filing a restraining order against Brandon to stop him from coming near his shop again. The officers then asked told me they would be pressing charges against Brandon in my wake. “Physical assault,” I heard one of them say. “Poor thing. She looks distraught.” The only thing they don’t do is call my parents, seeing as I’m legally an adult in our province and no one is asking where they are anyway.
Conrad walks into the staff room to see me sitting on the ground. I have my head between my legs, taking small breaths every now and then to remind myself that I’m still alive, though I wish I wasn’t. I’ve spent a lot of time this past year wishing I wasn’t.
“YN...”
I don’t look up, and he doesn’t try to say my name again. But what he does do is sit beside me and gently touch my arm. I recoil from his touch, but he persists.
“You’re bleeding,” he whispers, one soft hand on the side of my face.
I lift it to meet his eyes, warmer than I’ve seen them all this time. He touches my neck where a bruise has formed. I wince when he touches me, and it almost makes him stop, though he doesn’t.
Conrad reaches for the First Aid Kit sitting in his lap and tidies my wound. He doesn’t say it, but I can tell Brandon’s nails left bruising marks on my skin. Using a wipe, he cleans the wound first then dabs the slashes with a white cream which absorbs into my skin pretty quickly, but not before making me wince from the pain. I do it a few more times as he tends to all the rips, but by the time he bandages them, I’m starting to feel better. Yet, I’m well aware that I shouldn’t.
If Brandon hates me then Conrad hates me even more. And his is a hatred I can’t fault.
“This is about all I learned from Grey’s Anatomy Medical School,” he jokes, his voice hardly above a whisper. He says it to make me laugh, but all I can muster is a timid smile. He stands up, then holds a hand out. “I’ll take you home.”
“You don’t need to. My car is—”
“I know, YN.”
Conrad’s car is as quiet this time as it was the first time he took me home, and when he drops me off at my house, it’s he stops the car closer to the driveway than the first time, too. Joey meets me by the front door, worry written all over his face since I came home later than usual. I pat his head and assure him that I’m okay, and when I glance outside to see Conrad’s car, it’s gone.
. . .
Kevin closes the shop for the next few days.
He sent Conrad and I a text telling us not to come in and ‘recharge’ before he opens the shop up again on Friday. With nothing to do, perhaps more so than usual, I set Joey up with his online coding class and decide to deep-clean the house. If only just to take my mind off yesterday. My body remembers even though I’m trying to forget.
My whole night was filled with nightmares. No matter how hard I tried to pretend like nothing had happened to me, that whatever did happen was nothing to be so scared about, my subconscious littered my mind with horrific images of Brandon cornering me at every turn. I imagined his Cheshire cat-like grin and his beady, brown eyes, and his rough hands tightening around my neck.
I woke up several times in the night, breathless and sweating.
Deep-cleaning is easier than I imagined. With Mom asleep and Dad at work, and Joey occupied with his hobby, I got around to everyone’s room pretty easily. Except one. It’s the room no one has been in all year.
Andrew’s room.
After they arrested him, it became an unspoken rule that none of us were to go inside ever again. In a way, I think my parents were safeguarding it for when he would return. For when he would come back and everything would go back to normal. Perhaps we were all a little delusional about it because I never thought about going inside either.
But now, I want to.
Conrad’s voice rings in my ear as I creak the door open.
He didn’t do anything wrong.
Based on pure assumption, Conrad must think that I did do something wrong. Something that took his sister from him.
Drew’s room is hot and full of dust with clothing strewn here and there. There is also his unmade bed, from that weekend he came home to visit us, the same weekend in which Hailey died.
I go to his desk.
It’s filled with textbooks and loose paper. There’s even a manila folder which says, “Final Exam Prep.” I can only assume it has to do with one of the various mechanical engineering courses he was taking.
He also has a wooden framed corkboard with his university’s banner on it, a few pictures of him and his friends, and then... a picture of Hailey. She’s alone in the picture, standing in front of an unfamiliar house.
I pull it off the pin and take a closer look.
Hailey looks just like her happy-go-lucky self. A picture of pure joy in a cute floral dress and sparkly, blue flats. Her smile is even brighter than the day this picture was taken on. I don’t know what pushes me to do it, but I turn the picture over. On the other side, there is a paragraph presumably written by my best friend.
I love you, Drew.
Maybe you’re going to think I’m crazy for wanting to marry you, but I knew I would from the moment I met you. Disagree all you want, but I know I’m the only girl on your mind. Just like you’re the only man who’s ever going to be on mine.
Love,
Your Hailey
As soon as my first tear hits the ink, I wipe it away. Then I put the photograph back where it belongs and step away from the desk. But my foot hits something hard and I reach down for it.
Drew’s old phone.
I don’t know how long it’s been on the floor since Drew replaced the old generation Samsung with a new one. Picking it up, I’m surprised to see it’s still intact. I sit on his bed and plug in the charger, waiting for the phone to load. I don’t really know what I’m hoping to achieve by snooping through my brother’s phone, but my inner curiosity keeps pushing me forward.
When the lock screen pops up, I try several different numbers.
Mom’s birthday.
Dad’s birthday.
His own birthday.
I know for a fact that Drew would never make me or Joey his password so I gloss over that. I glance over at the picture of Hailey again. That’s when it hits me—I’m so stupid.
Hailey’s birthday logs me in and takes me straight to Drew’s home screen in which, there is a picture of him and Hailey at his eleventh birthday party. The first time they met and our mother made him take a picture with all the kids who attended. It’s the only picture I’ve ever seen Hailey look shy in.
I click on his messages. There are quite a few unread ones. Oh right, he changed his SIM card, too.
At the very top of the message list is one from Kevin. I click on that, too.
kevin: look man, im sorry ok? it’s not like i asked for this
drew: what? like you didn’t ask to like MY gf?
kevin: why are you making such a big deal out of this? she doesn’t even want me. she wants you. so be happy with that ffs.
drew: kev, you’re supposed to be my friend. i can’t believe you told her you like her. fuck, man.
kevin: again, not a big deal. she said she’s in love with you so.
Kevin liked Hailey? Since when? And how come Drew never told me?
How come Hailey never told me?
There are a million questions buzzing through my mind but the one at the very top is about Kevin—did he know something about Drew that I didn’t know? Something that could help make sense of what my brother did to my best friend?
I’m racing out of the room faster than I can fully comprehend what I’m doing. I grab my cardigan off the dinner table, slip my bag over my shoulder, then text Joey to let him know that I’ll be back in two hours. I need to find Kevin.
I throw open my front door while I’m still pulling my shoes on when I bump into a hard chest.
“Oof,” the voice groans, but it’s quiet enough to tell me I haven’t done any real damage.
My eyes meet Conrad’s.
Conrad.
Conrad Fisher.
Conrad Fisher is standing at my doorstep.
What the fuck—?
“Where are you going?” He asks at the same time I question, “What are you doing here?” His cheeks seem to redden, and though I’m in a hurry, this morsel of information does not slip past me. He rubs the back of his neck and quietly admits, “I came to see if you were alright... after everything that happened yesterday.”
I nod. “I’m fine.” Then I try to sidestep him but he catches my wrist. I flinch, thinking about Brandon last night and Conrad must notice the look on my face because he immediately lets go. “I’m in a hurry, but thanks for checking up on me, Conrad. Really appreciate it.” I hop down the stairs in a speed of light only to be met with the reality of a missing car.
Right. Conrad drove me home last night.
“Do you...” He walks up to me and says, “Where are you going? I’ll take you.” “Why?”
He looks stumped. “Why... what?”
“Why do you want to take me anywhere?”
A shrug. “An apology. Of sorts.” “What do you have to apologize for?”
“Taking the trash out was my responsibility,” he replies, suddenly unable to meet my eyes. “He never would have hurt you if I’d just done my job.”
I nod, again. I don’t really know what else to do. My heart feels like it’s caving in on itself every time I come close to him and one of these days, it may just stop altogether. “I’m f-fine. Don’t worry.” I pull out my phone and look up the bus schedule. Twenty minutes until the next bus. I can wait that long... right?
“I can still take you... wherever it is that you need to go.”
And so that’s how I end up in Conrad’s car for the third time.
I give him the address to house but don’t tell him it’s Kevin’s. This is something I need to figure out on my own.
Kevin isn’t home when I ring the door bell, but someone else is. An older woman, probably somewhere in her early thirties, answers the door with a baby on her hip. She sizes me up and says, “What do you want?”
“Uh... I’m looking for Kevin.”
“He’s not home.”
“Okay, um. Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“Not for a while.”
I blink. She’s really giving me nothing. “Do you know where I could find him? It’s kind of an emergency.”
Her left brow lifts high, so high that it nearly disappears. “What kind of an emergency would a girl like you need my boyfriend for?”
I swallow to hold myself back from stuttering. Her eyes are so stern and hot on my face that I wish against all wishes that I’d ignored my curious heart and never came here at all. “It’s nothing. Thanks for your ti—”
The smack of the door being shut on my face makes me take a big step back. A whirling storm at the bottom of my stomach tells me something isn’t right here. Kevin has a girlfriend? And possibly a kid? He’s never mentioned either. Coupled with the fact that I now know about Kevin’s feelings for my best friend, I make the executive decision to jump off the porch and slip down to the window where I can clearly hear the woman talking on the phone.
Conrad whispers, “What are you doing?!” To which I wave him off. I need all my attention on what she’s saying.
“Kevin, come home from whatever you’re doing. Some girl came to the house looking for you.” A pause. “How am I supposed to know who she is? Do you tell me about all the women you’re seeing behind my back?” Another pause. Longer than the first. “If this turns out to be like the last girl, it’s you who’s going to die this time.”
I close my eyes slowly, letting the woman’s words sink into my brain.
It’s you who’s going to die this time.
Die.
This time.
I fall back on my butt at the same time Conrad comes scrambling over to help me. As soon as his hand touches my arm, my eyes snap open.
“We need to find Kevin.”
. . .
Conrad parks his car in the parking lot of the local bank. Through the large, floor-to-ceiling windows, we can see Kevin standing in line behind a four other people. I never would have guessed that we could find him here, but based on Conrad’s knowledge about what Kevin usually does on his days off, this is where it begins.
“Why do you want to talk to him so badly?”
“I’ll tell you when I have concrete information.”
Conrad sits back in his seat and huffs. He looks ticked off, but is trying hard not to show it. “If you’re going to do something that puts you in danger then...” he trails off. I can tell he doesn’t know how to finish his sentence. Not after everything that’s happened between us. “Just be careful.”
“I’m not getting out of the car just yet.” I tell him. “I’m observing.”
“Observing a twenty-three year old man at the bank?”
I nod. “There’s something that Kevin knows that he needs to share with me.”
“Can’t it wait until we go back to work on Friday?”
“No.” I breathe, thinking about the picture of Hailey hanging in Andrew’s room. “It can’t.”
Kevin leaves the bank fifteen minutes later. I count down the seconds until he steps out, and as soon as he touches the handle of his car, I rush to his side. His eyes blow wide in surprise.
“Y-YN!”
“Kevin,” I gulp. “I need to talk to you.”
He looks taken aback. “Talk about... what?”
I hold up Andrew’s old phone. “Do you recognize this?”
“No.”
“This is Drew’s old phone. I saw your texts to him.” His face blanks. “About Hailey.”
Kevin pulls on his door handle and jumps inside his car. “I don’t have anything to tell you about that. Please leave me alone.” He starts the ignition, but I jump into the passenger seat before he can back out of the lot. He looks at me with fearful eyes as my heart ricochets off its cage. “YN, please. This isn’t—”
“You know something,” I push. “I know you do, Kevin. I heard your girlfriend say that you’ll ‘die this time.’”
“You went to my house?!”
“I was looking for you.”
That’s when Kevin backs out of the lot before I can get another word in. He drives with expertise, bypassing several other cars and onto the road. My heart starts screaming at me to jump out of his car right the fuck now! But I’m not listening. Instead, I buckle my belt and start throwing questions at him.
“Kevin, tell me the truth: do you know what happened to Hailey that night?”
He’s silent, but presses harder on the gas. I clench my fists to stop myself from vomiting out of fear. I might die today, but not before finding out the truth.
“Kevin! I know you’re hiding something!”
He shakes his head and drives even faster. The road we’re on is empty, which makes it infinitely easier for him to drive carelessly. All around us is farmland with cows and horses and chickens that Hyeryung and I loved to go see on the weekends when we had nothing else to do but volunteer to help out her aging grandparents.
“Kevin!”
The man next to me presses down tightly on the gas, so hard that no turn of the break could have stopped the car from hitting the tree I never even noticed we were hurtling towards.
. . .
The police officers arrested Kevin ten minutes after he woke up at the hospital. His girlfriend had been arrested several days before while I was still asleep. I didn’t undergo any massive operation after the accident, but I did need a few stitches at the crown of my head which the doctors told me would heal quickly enough.
I’m sitting in my living room on the phone with Andrew. With my brother I miss as much as I miss my best friend.
He isn’t saying anything. Typical. He never talks when I need him to.
“Drew,” I sigh, clutching the phone tighter against my ear. My mother is holding Joey in her arms on the other side of the room, watching me talk to my older brother. Or at least, attempting to. “Everything is already out in the open now. You can come home.”
“I...” I hear a sniffle. He cries like our mother does. “I can’t. YN, I... I’m not—”
“Not what?” I’m raising my voice at him for the first time and it feels exhilarating. I’ve gone all my life letting Drew do what he wants without any of my input because I was taught to believe I was younger and therefore, less important in his decisions. But not anymore. Not after what we know now. He was innocent this whole time. Innocent in love, innocent against selfish powers. “You’re not innocent? That you did kill the girlfriend you were in love with?”
“Am,” he corrects me in a small voice. “I still—I love her, YN. I never stopped.”
I wipe at the tears escaping my right eye. “Then come home, you jerk. Let’s go... let’s go see her. I know she misses you the most.” This time, I cry with my brother when his broken-hearted sobs pour through the line.
. . .
Conrad is sitting on my porch steps when I walk outside. It’s Hyeryung’s birthday and I planned on driving to her favourite coffee shop tonight to celebrate and order a low fat latte in her memory. Daniel planned on visiting her grave, but I don’t think I have the courage to do that just yet, and I don’t know why.
The brown haired boy looks up as the door shuts behind me. Neither of us says anything to the other until I take a seat beside him, far enough away so that I don’t make him uncomfortable. He has something in his hand—a photograph—and he hands it to me before I can ask what it is.
“I found it in Hailey’s room,” he tells me. It’s identical to the photograph I kept inside my phone case. “I’m sorry that I... I’m sorry, YN.”
“It’s okay.”
He nods and looks out at the neighbourhood. It’s empty. The reporters stopped coming by a few days ago after Drew promised to give one of them an exclusive interview. Now they’re all piggy-backing off that one twenty- minute segment on the local news channel.
“They kicked you out, didn’t they?” Conrad suddenly asks. “At the funeral... my friends... they, um... they made you leave.”
“Yes.”
My voice is so quiet that I wonder if he even heard me answer him. “Do you want to... can I take you to see her?”
“What?”
He tries to smile. I know it still hurts him to do it. “Hailey wasn’t just my sister, she was also yours. I don’t know why I let myself forget that.” He exhales through his nose. “I see her everywhere even though she’s not here anymore.”
“I do, too.”
He wipes at his tears, and chuckles. “I wanted to hate you forever,” he admits. “I had a plan for it. I would hate you until my last dying breath.”
“And... now?”
“I don’t know.”
Why does that hurt more than a ‘yes?’
Conrad does end up taking me to Hailey’s grave. He stands next to me as I place her favourite purple tulips on the ground next to her name. Under my breath, I whisper a prayer that I hope she hears.
I’m sorry it took me so long to come and see you, Hailey. I love you to the moon and back.
He tries to buy me food after, but I deny him. So we sit in his car, in the parking lot of a random Burger King, staring out opposite windows in the hope that one of us will shatter the silence.
“I still hate you a little bit.” I look at him. This isn’t how I expected him to start talking. His knuckles are white over the steering wheel where he grips it. “You knew they were together and you never told me.” A long sigh. “But I guess you have your reasons.”
“Hails, you never hide anything from Con. So why are you hiding this?”
My best friend sighs, the same way her brother does when he’s frustrated and doesn’t want to answer a question. “Con doesn’t want me to date, much less someone even older than he is.”
“Yeah, but this is Drew we’re talking about. Con knows him.”
“Con knows a lot of people. If I used this argument, he would go, ‘What? Are you going to date everyone I know then?’ He’s so stupid like that.” I bite my lip. “I don’t like hiding things from him...”
“That’s because you have a crush on him so it’s distorting your rational thinking.”
“Hey!”
“Tell me I’m lying, YN. I’ll wait.”
Hailey giggles as I punch her arm.
And after that, I promised myself I’ll never share the news of her relationship with anyone she doesn’t want knowing. Even back then, I knew all Hailey was doing was protecting her budding relationship with a boy who she was head over heels for.
“They were in love,” I murmur, quiet as a bee. “I’ve never seen two people more in love than they were with each other.”
Conrad’s lips flatten as he presses them together. “I think I would have liked to see that.”
“I’m sorry, Conrad.”
“I’m sorry, too. I did a lot to hurt you... didn’t I?”
“N-No...”
“YN...” his voice is even quieter than mine as my name slips past his bitten lips. “Can you look at me?”
And so I do, and I want to regret it—I want to regret looking into his beautiful brown eyes pouring into mine—but I don’t. He inches closer to me and takes my face into his warm hands. They’re big enough to encase my much smaller face, and then pull me closer.
His eyes land on my lips. I know what he’s going to do and I have to stop him before he does.
“C-Con...” I whisper, voice timid and broken and not the least bit convincing. “Please, d-don’t. You’ll regret it...” But as my voice trails off, his eyes simmer with an unfamiliar desire.
He gaze falls upon my lips again. They are full of hunger this time, mixing easily with the pain he pushes past in order to hold me close. “I would never regret anything with you,” he whispers just as his head curves down and our lips meet.
For a second, I don’t think about anything but his kiss. His sweet, warm kiss which I have craved in all my dreams and awakened hours. His mind- numbing kiss which touches my soul as softly as his hands trail the length of my cheeks and my neck.
I let myself experience the kiss for what it is for all the seconds he kisses me. I don’t count them, but I know it could not have been a minute he kissed me for because when we come up for air, I feel like no time has passed by at all.
And I want him to kiss me again.
“I-I’m sorry,” I whimper, not knowing exactly what I’m apologizing for this time around. “You’re confused, right? I’m confusing you—”
Conrad kisses me again. Harder and fiercer and stronger than the first time. This time, he grabs my face with eagerness and crushes his lips to mine with a hunger akin to a starving animal and I can do nothing but kiss him back with the same intensity.
“All my life, I’ve wanted to kiss you the way I did just now,” he breathes while still holding me. “Every birthday, every celebration, every soccer match I ever won or lost—I wanted to kiss you at the beginning and at the end of them.” Another kiss, then two smaller pecks. “Maybe Hailey was scared of telling me about her and Drew, but I was terrified of telling her about my feelings for you.”
A tear drips down my cheek, and he catches it. “She knew.”
“God,” he groans, dropping his forehead on mine. “I’ll bet she’s watching us from up there now, and making jokes.”
“The worst jokes.”
We kiss again. Then one more time. Every kiss hurts a little bit less than the one before it.
“Connie…” I whisper as the sun begins to set outside our windows. I don’t look at him as I speak. I don’t want him to see my eyes when I say my next few words. “I’m always going to be a reminder of what you lost,” I tell him as my heart twists and burns. “I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life feeling hurt because of me.”
His reply is instantaneous.
“And what about you?” He asks, almost as quiet as I am. “Am I not a reminder?” He slips his fingers through mine and coaxes me to look at him. “You lost someone you love, too, YN, and I will always be a reminder of that.” He tries to smile. “But I think... if Hailey was here with us right now, she would tell me to go for it.”
“Go for it?”
“To tell you that I love you,” he breathes, eyes full of new tears. “I love you, YN. And I know it’s not right of me to tell you this after all the hurt I’ve put you through for a crime that was never yours, but... here I am, telling you anyway.”
I burst into sobs. “I-I’m s-so sor-ry.”
Conrad leans over the console and pulls me onto his lap, whispering, “It’s okay, it’s okay,” and then, “I’ve never fought for anything in my life, YN, but I’m going to fight for you. I love you, and that’s all I know.”
I bury my face in his neck as another storm of tears blows through me. I think of Hailey—my best friend, my sister—and her tragedy. Of the love she fought for with my brother every day and the love she died protecting. I think about my brother—the man I always looked up to—and how he will spend the rest of his life mourning his love. I think about our broken families and this town which lost someone who lit up every street and every corner she ever walked on to.
Mrs. Bui once told me that grief is something we carry with us all our lives. Something we can never really shake off completely. Every person in the world grieves. It is a part of human nature to love and to lose.
It’s Hailey’s birthday today and I don’t know how to celebrate it. But I think about how she lived and how she existed and how every square inch of her life was love. Love for herself, love for her family, love for her friends, love for strangers, and love for the man she never looked away from.
And so, in her memory, I kiss the words, “I love you” on Conrad’s lips and follow in her footsteps.
. . .
“Connie...”
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
I gulp down my fear. I can still taste the orange Fanta I had with dinner tonight at the Fishers’ house. “Do you only like me because I’m Hailey’s friend?”
“What?”
I shy away into my sleeping bag. I’m afraid he’ll see how I truly feel about him if he glances over. “I’m scared that you only spend time with me because Hailey is my friend.”
“I’m your friend, too, YN.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“And do you... like me?”
“I do,” he whispers, voice sweet and incandescent after midnight. “I like you a lot. I’ll probably like you forever.”
I’m really blushing this time. “Can I tell you a secret?”
This is going to be a bit of a rant. I’ve had my tickets for Harry’s Australian show since early 2019 and I received them as a gift for my birthday which was spent in lockdown. My concert was meant to be in December of 2019, however, due to covid, it was “rescheduled” with no later date provided.
2 years of looking forward to this concert I received an email from Ticketek saying my concert was cancelled and I would be refunded. No apology from HSHQ or Harry himself. All him and his team had to do was send a simple tweet with an apology to the thousands of heartbroken fans in Australia and New Zealand.
To the American fans who have been privileged enough to experience Love On Tour in person, while you being upset that he didn’t perform “medicine” live or whatever, remember that you at least had the opportunity to see him live whilst many do not. Remember there are other countries in the world and not just the USA.
I’m honestly just really annoyed and disrespected at the way this was handled by him and his team. It’s not rocket science, a simple tweet acknowledging fans feelings would have done wonders!
when i tell you i had to travel the depths of hell and SCRAPED the bottom of that goddamn barrel for these fics,, but anyways i promised a matt fic rec so it shall be delivered!
key
— angst ☹
— fluff ☺
— favorites ♡
last updated (11/1/2022)
these stories belong to their respective owners, definitely check out their blogs!
appreciation ( ☺ ♡) by @pastafossa
↪ big tiddie matty, LMAO me acting as if i wouldn’t do the same
of muffins, coffee and other miracles | 2 | ( ☹ ☺ ♡) by @anika-ann
↪ you have a crush on matt and send him muffins, i LOVED this one, so sweet
listening in ( ☹ ☺) by @certifiedskywalker
↪ legit the first matt murdock fic i read, matt listens to your steady heartbeat in the course of your relationship
isolation ( ☹ ) by @sunflowervanya
↪ matt loses another sense and he fears he might not be able to love you, ohhh so angsty
man in a red suit (☺) by @twistnet
↪ matt stumbles into the wrong apartment
when the lights are off ( ☹ ☺) by @trashmagines
↪ you meet matt in church, taking care of him uwu
clean up ( ☹ ☺) by @bowieandqueen11
↪ conversations and wound healings, adorable but a tad bit angsty
moving in ( ☹ ☺) by @darling-i-read-it
↪ he convinces you to move in bc he’s a worrywart, actually this was kinda angsty but very sweet too!
i love you (☺) by @prince-septimus
↪ basically an i love you contest with a bucket of wound healing, (ugh we get it matty you’re utterly in love with me 🙄)
i can hear the bells (☺) by @pastafossa
↪ yes i named this one after a hairspray song, you’re humming makes matt a simp
I got a thingy (sorry lol idk what it's called) asking for a period fic, so here you go! :)
You were laid out on the couch in the living area of the hype house. Comfortable wasn’t at all what you would use to describe your situation. You were a groaning mess, hugging your stomach, praying the devastatingly painful feelings would leave. It hurt so bad you couldn’t even walk to take pain killers. The front door opens, but you couldn’t find the strength to lift up your head.
“Oh hey! I didn’t know you were home, I thought you left with everyone else?” Hype house member, Vinnie Hacker acknowledges your presence. You don’t say anything, you shake your head no and end up whimpering. That noise catches his attention, “Are you okay?” He asks.
If looks could kill. Pretty boy would be 6 feet under as we speak.
“Right... I'll uh, here I’ll be right back.” He slowly makes a break away from the living area to who-knows-where. You and Vinnie were acquaintances, the both of you being famed teenage tik tok stars right out of high school brought the two of you closer, having that in common with someone who wasn’t a borderline narcissist was relieving. Ten minutes pass by, and you think you scared Vinnie away...not that you wanted him to come back, right?
Hearing thuds coming down the stairs, you’re knocked out of your pondering thoughts, Vinnie walks back into the living room with a small bottle in his hands.
“Sorry I went to text Mia to see if I could help you out a little,” He held out the small pill bottle, “she said Midol helps out with the cramps and nausea.” You go to grab the bottle, but a sharp pain hits you like a freight train. Groaning and curling yourself into a fetal position, Vinnie opens the bottle, and takes out a small pill. He watches you until the pain lessens just a hair for him to turn your head, place the pill and the right amount of water in your mouth to swallow.
“Thank you.” You look up at him and give your best smile. He smiles back and turns to place the water cup and bottle on the side table next to the couch. “Do you need anything else? I could totally go out and get you food or anything you need.” Vinnie offers. You find yourself wondering ‘where did this guy come from?’ His kindness fills your heart with feelings of gratitude. “Are you sure? I don’t want to bother, weren’t you supposed to go out with Chase and his crowd?” You don’t want to seem needy, but you don’t want him to leave.
“Nah, I mean I was going over there, but halfway through my drive I just realized I wasn’t feeling up for it, so I came back and now we’re here.” He looks at you, and you can’t describe it, but it’s the look of not wanting to leave.
“Now we’re here.” You say. An agreement to stay without actually using the words.
“And you’re the furthest thing from being a bother right now, I just want you to feel comfortable, so is there anything you want?” He offers once more, giving you his best smile.
Telling Vinnie what you wanted, he’s out the door and promises to be back in 30ish minutes. In that waiting period, you found the strength to sit up and find a blanket and the remote to the tv. Trying to browse watch to watch, you found your mind occupied by a certain shaggy haired boy. Why haven't you talked to him more? Why is he so kind? Not aware of the amount of time that has passed, when the front door opens again you jump.
“Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” He says while walking over with a bag of goodies.
“It’s okay,” You reassure him before digging through the bag to gather the things he’d got you. “Thank you again, it means a lot Vinnie.” He looks at you, like he’s surprised you even knew his name.
“Anytime,” He flashes that damn smile.
The two of you are there, sitting on the couch in an empty house, looking at each other like no one else existed, and at that point, no one else did.
“Do you want to watch a movie with me?” You ask, but you had a feeling you already knew the answer.
“Of course.” He says. Grabbing the remote you browse movies until you come across your favorite movie.
“I freaking love this movie dude!” Vinnies voice cuts through the air, catching you by surprise.
“No way, I freaking love this movie!” Your excitement blending into his without missing a beat.
“The obvious answer is to play this movie then.” He comments,
“Obviously.” You reply, pressing play on the movie, letting it engulf the screen. Around the 45 minute mark of the movie, you no longer found yourself paying attention to what was happening in front of you, but rather of who was sitting next to you. You started stealing glances, taking in his earring, his jawline, his lashes, his hair. All of him.
And then he looked at you.
A blush creeps across your cheeks, “You’re pretty.” The sentence slips out of your mouth before you could even catch it, the blush darkens. Vinnies eyes widen, and then he runs his tongue on the inside of his cheek and looks down, “Weird,” His eyes meet yours, “I was just gonna say the same thing about you.”
You didn't know how to react to that. He looks at you and then turns back around as he wraps his arm around the back of your shoudlers.
Smooth.
You spent the rest of the movie like that, leaning against his shoulder, his arm draped around yours.
You were so grateful he came home and made you feel comfortable, looking up at him,
“Thank you Vinnie, for today it means a lot “ the words softly come out of your mouth, prayer like. He smiles down at you, “Anytime, you look tired, get some sleep” he kisses the top of your head. With that you snuggle in closer, closing your eyes and allowing your mind to be filled with all things Vinnie.
You couldn't wait to wake up, and talk to pretty boy about the rest of the world, because you had a feeling he wanted to talk to you about everything and nothing as well. Drifting off into a peaceful sleep, you feel Vinnie brush your hair back, "Pretty girl" a soft whisper floats through the air.
You've never been this comfortable during your period before, and you owe it all to the boy laying next to you.
