Say Something: Harry Styles x Female Reader
UM HEY GUYS. First post. I’m Daisy, you can also find me over at @petehparker
Here we goooooo
Summary: Reader confesses her love to Harry, but they’re just friends. Angsty as hell.
Count: 1.2K
Warnings: Kinda sad?
A/N: First Harry fic ever, please be gentle and REBLOG if you enjoyed!
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Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe she should have kept her mouth shut and moved on; drowned her feelings and pretended like it didn’t pain her every time Harry’s gaze wandered or like a little part of her died every time he introduced her as his friend.
“I don’t just love you Harry, I’m in love with you. Have been for a while I suppose.”
She shouldn’t have said a damn thing, because here he was before her, slack-jawed and silent. Staring at her like she could tell him what to say. He opened his mouth only to close it again, and those twenty seconds of silence felt like the longest of her life. He stepped towards her, a hand reaching for her wrist, “Y/N, I-“ he was stammering, unsure of how to respond.
She shook her head, the tears blurring her vision as she moved past him, a dry laugh escaping her lips. “See you around, Harry.”
She was vaguely aware of his footsteps and shouts behind her. But she was so incredibly embarrassed and hurt that she couldn’t stand to even look at him. She didn’t hate him. She couldn’t even if she tried. Pitiful. And as much as she wanted to avoid the self-loathing and pity, she couldn’t say that rejection was new to her.
Guys dated her friends first, only giving her the time of day if one of her girlfriends turned them down. Second best. She’d had plenty of dates that ended well before they really began. She forced the thoughts out of her head, crossing the threshold and running for her car, so desperately wanting to be home.
The tears fell freely within the safety of her car, heaving sobs escaping her mouth, leaving her to gasp for breath. She kicked off her shoes as soon as she got to her flat, making a beeline for her bedroom and throwing herself atop the bed, removing the covers and hiding beneath them, seeking comfort. She felt like an idiot. The only thing she could see was the blank look on his face. The rejection. Him confirming that he didn’t love her the way she loved him.
They were close. But maybe she was so blinded by her love for him that she let herself read too heavily into every word that left his mouth; every glance. Surely, not all friends acted the way they did.
“Harry, we’ve seen that like 12 times!”
“Should we make it 13? It’s a lucky number isn’t it?”
“Not many people think so,” she responded, chucking her pillow in his direction.
She stretched her hands out, wriggling her fingers, a silent demand for the remote. He smirked at her, lazily tossing it her way. “Now Harry, have you seen Labor Day?”
He shook his head. “Never heard of it.”
“With Kate Winslet?”
“Not ringin’ a bell. I’ll give it a chance I suppose,” he answered as if he ever had a choice in the matter.
She started the movie, settling back into the couch, her blanket wrapped around her like a cape. “Better be good Y/N,” he said, giving her a stern look.
“Eyes on the screen, H.”
Apart from a few snide comments, Harry seemed to be enjoying it, and Y/N’s eyes had yet to leave the screen. He reached out, tugging on her blanket.
“What is it H?” He grumbled something about cuddles and she finally turned towards him a small smile on her face.
“You’re so needy,” she chided, feigning annoyance but moving towards him all the same. Once she was right beside him, she swung her legs over into his lap, letting her head fall on his chest. Harry secured his arms around her, signing in contentment.
“Better.”
Harry was right. All of it felt incredibly right and every time Harry leaned down to look at her, she felt her face heat up and the butterflies in her stomach dance when he whispered a comment or asked a question. She was so aware of how close he was, of how his arms held her in place and the rise and fall of his chest. All of it.
“You know, this whole thing seemed creepy in the beginning, but I support it now.”
She laughed at that and he grinned down at her.
“Whatcha laughin’ at love?”
“I felt the same way when I first watched it. Just wait to see what happens.”
The movie was nearing its end, and Harry was fed up. “Really, Henry? Why did ya go and do that?” He peered down at Y/N, only to see that her eyes were shut, the fabric of his t-shirt bunched in one hand. A fond smile spread across his face as the credits began to roll, darkening the room. He could have easily carried her upstairs to his bed and taken the couch, but he liked this just fine. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and he couldn’t see it, but she felt it. He shifted a little bit, leaning his head back and staring at the ceiling, thinking that it had been a good day.
But surely they were just friends? She thought of how he sometimes came over at 2 in the morning after meeting friends, stumbling a little bit, but crushing her in a hug, telling her how much he loved her. As a friend, she thought bitterly.
She couldn’t even be mad at him. Love couldn’t be forced, she just wanted so badly for him to have told her differently. She pulled her blanket up towards her chin, willing sleep to take her so she wouldn’t have to keep replaying the moment in her mind.
Her eyes had been closed for maybe 5 minutes when she heard knocking on the door. She knew who it was. Not now, she thought. The knocking stopped, and she thought he had gone, but the knocks were replaced with Harry’s desperate pleas.
“Y/N, please lemme in sweetheart. M’sorry ok, so sorry. I really need to see you. Need to make sure my girl’s alright.”He was met with her silence. “I’ll stay here all night if I have to love. Please Y/N.”
His voice was softer now, sad. She couldn’t face him. Not yet. But she couldn’t let him sit outside her door all night either. She forced herself up, padding across the wood floor, stopping in front of the door.
“Harry?” she croaked.
“Lemme see you love,” his voice was hardly above a whisper.
“You have to leave Harry. I’m not mad at you, I just want to be alone a while.” Her voice always gave her away. It was evident how much she had been crying.
“Y/N if you would just-“ She cut him off.
“Harry, please!” She pleaded, her voice rising. “After what just happened can you please just give me some time? Just some damned time!”
He was silent a moment. “Really what you want love?”
“Go Harry. I’m not ready.” She waited until she heard him shuffle from the doorway, peeking through the peephole as he receded. As she shuffled back to her bed and pulled the covers back over her head, she wondered one thing.
How did it come to this?