A/N + Request: harry styles meet cute! this is a really old request and i must have accidentally cleared it out between seeing it and half-drafting this fic. Don’t remember exact words but something about a cute run-in. Idk if this is the definition of cute necessarily but def a run-in and finally finished (:
Word Count: 3.6k
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If life followed cartoon rules, and steam really could hiss out from your ears, Harry suspected he’d out-smoke even his third cigarette.
He’s huddled under the small awning beside the restaurant he worked in. A few feet away sheets of rain come down in a sudden and chaotic curtain and it feels right watching it from there—like everything he was feeling inside breaking loose out there; his inner turmoil hitting the darkened pavement.
“Fuck,” he swears under his breath again. He knew this was one of those things that would stick—like his girlfriend bailing on him for Thailand last year, like his best friend eloping and never telling him until after the honeymoon, like in year 6 when he was always the last sorry fucker for any group activity.
Sometimes it felt like he carried so many moments like these around. Weighed down by all the ways people—and life, have betrayed him.
“Fuck them,” he says on his next exhale. And like a strange manifestation a woman suddenly appears in front of the building a few doors down and screams into the rain:
“Fuck!”
A flicker of a smile ghosts his face. Until she turns and lifts her flimsy jacket, actually stepping out into the downpour.
She’s still swearing as she crosses the next two buildings, and by the time she notices him tucked safely under the small awning she’s already hopping the concrete block beside him, taking shelter without asking.
They eye one another for a moment, it’s like she’s waiting for him to kick her out.
Her hair is plastered to her face, mascara leaving inky streaks down her face and her mouth is an angry pink streak against splotchy skin.
She looks away before he can take in any more
Harry continues smoking. She looks so much like how he was feeling it almost seemed to him the universe was telling him he was right to feel this way—offering up omens reflecting the state of his heart. He would let her stay here as long as she needed. She looked like she needed it.
Upon stubbing out his third cigarette and trying to light a fourth against the blowing wind, she turns sharply and glares at him. Her hair is pulled back now into a clip, face wiped but flecks of mascara still remain and her eyes are still tinged pink. Evidence of whatever happened before the rain.
Harry holds the pack out to her—he should have offered. But she looks offended that he would even do something like that.
He shrugs and puts it away, their eyes lock again and her anger and righteousness bleed out into a tired, haunted look.
Harry puts his cigarette offer down, tucks his 4th back into the box. Three was enough. He’d been trying to quit all month anyway.
“Rough night?” Harry asks, his voice raw from shouting earlier.
Her eyes flicker back to his face and she gives a short nod. Clears her throat. “Best night ever.”
Sarcasm, Harry notes. Of course she used sarcasm as a defence.
“Same here. Rain was just the cherry on top.”
“So that’s a celebratory chain smoke then?” She turns to him now rather than peering over her shoulder. Harry gets a full sense of her—under her green trench coat was a white jumper and animal-print jeans. She has an ipad tucked into the waistband of those jeans. What the hell?
She notices his eyes on it, pulling her coat over it.
“Uh,” Harry scratches his forehead. “Yeah. Yeah.”
She sighs and steps right up beside him, leaning against the remaining bit of wall. Harry shifts closer to the door to give her space.
“Fuckin’ hell.” She sighs. “Sorry.”
“No that’s alright.” Harry can’t help the smile tugging at his lips; he liked her sailor’s mouth.
“No I-I’m genuinely trying to stop swearing so much. My mum says it makes me crass and unladylike.”
“Yeah? I’m trying to quit too.“
“How’s that going?”
“Fucking great.”
She laughs and Harry feels a warmth break through in the centre of his chest. She was one of those people that laughed outwardly—throwing their head back without a care rather than lean inwards. Harry liked her laugh.
“So,” he says when she shakes her head and quiets down, leaning back to the wall. “What’s your story.”
“What’s my-“ she wipes under her eyes.
“Oh,” Harry grabs the apron hanging off his shoulder and offers it to her.
“Really?”
“Yeah, go on.”
She hesitates before patting her face down, her hair, down her neck. Harry looks away.
“Harry?” She says his name.
How did she—
Right, his name embroidered in white on the bottom of his apron. He watches her rubs her thumb across the stitching—his girlfriend used to do that for him on all his aprons. This must be one of his old ones.
His heart twists.
“That’s me.”
“YN.”
“YN,” Harry tests her name in his mouth.
“That’s me.” Her eyes flash as she echoes his words and this time he chuckles, surprised at how easy it comes.
“My ex lives in that building,” she points. “We broke up a few weeks ago. Pretty sure he was banging his coworker, the bitch.”
“Were you…picking your stuff up?” Harry glances down where the ipad is tucked away.
“Not really, that’s all dealt with. He wanted to talk? I feel like an idiot.”
They were strangers but Harry felt like he should offer a comforting hand to her shoulder or something. Maybe words. He doesn’t know what to do, so he waits. She fills the silence eventually.
“He’s been trying to get back with me. I-I don’t know why I came. One foot in that place and I could smell her. He must still be seeing her, her perfume was bloody everywhere. I exploded—confronted him about everything. I was right all along. I, god I feel like a tool.”
“You’re not.” The words come out of him fast, like flipping a burning steak off the heat without thinking. “He is.”
She looks up at him, nods. “He is. Yeah! He is.”
“Exactly.”
“I think…I just wanted to see him one last time. Make sure I made the right decision? We’d been dating for…god like 3 years? I figured out the whole affair thing but it took me a couple months to work up to breaking up with him.”
“It’s hard,” Harry’s hands itch for another cigarette but he shoves them into his armpits, crosses his arms. “They become your life, it’s all like…ingredients in a bowl. Hard to pick them out once they’re in.”
“Yeah,” she whispers.
“I mean I guess even if you manage to pick them out they’re not the same pure ingredients you put in in the first place. You’re changed no matter what…”
He trails off realizing he was getting too into it. She was just a stranger sharing a dry place, he didn’t need to dump his baggage on her.
“That’s very…”
“Stupid?” Harry offers. “Sorry-“
“No!” She stops him. “Not stupid at all. That’s actually a really good metaphor for it. I think I just feel changed, and think that means I need to go back to find the pure version of myself that began the whole relationship but…that’s not possible.”
“And you won’t find her there.” Harry motions with his chin to the building, obscured by the downpour.
“No.” She stands taller. “I won’t. Actually-“
What she was going to say is cut off when the door beside them creaks open and Harry moves out of the way. A head pokes out—one of the line chefs. His eyes widen when he sees Harry out here, they flicker to YN and back to Harry.
“Oh Harry you’re still here?”
“And what?” Harry doesn’t mean to sound so rude to Rick but he doesn’t want Rick going in and talking about seeing him out here.
“A-are you coming back in?”
“I don’t know.” Harry and him hold intense eye contact for a minute before Rick backs down.
“I’ll…okay.”
Rick rushes back inside.
Harry feels YN’s eyes on him.
“What were you celebrating again?”
Harry laughs but it’s not one of humour, he needs it to release some of the tensioned re-coiled after seeing Rick’s face. For a moment hearing YN’s problems he’d forgotten about his own baggage. A brief moment.
YN eyes him wearily.
“I guess I owe you that. Uhm, I’ve been a chef here for like, over 4 years now yeah? That’s, it’s a fucking lifetime.”
“Mhm,” she follows.
“And with the head chef leaving I was so sure—so fucking sure—his position was mine. The head chef and me we…we had a good relationship and he basically promised it to me before he left last week.”
“I get the feeling this story doesn’t end up with you getting head chef.” YN crosses her arms, a protectiveness bristling in her posture.
“Yeah. Bossman comes in today with some fucking prick too posh and skinny to belong in any kitchen. Wouldn’t last a fucking day. All of us are making fun of him right? Then we get told—we’re looking at the new head chef.”
“Well who the fuck’s he?” YN asks. Harry liked the way she seemed wholly invested in his story, her emotions rising to his own.
“His fucking nephew.”
“What the fuck?” Her eyebrows shoot up. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah!” Harry exhales long and slow, imagining it was cigarette smoke. “Yep! The whole kitchen’s fuming right now but I-I couldn’t hold it in. All these guys have shit on the line they can’t afford being fired but me? I didn’t care. Because I’m not sticking around here any longer if I got cheated out by a-by a fucking—“
“Nepo baby.” YN provides.
“Yes!” Harry remembers the word tucked into the back of his mind. “A fucking nepo baby! I have close to a decade’s worth of work on him!”
“I’d be seeing red if that happened to me.”
“Oh why do you think I’m out here.” Harry looks back at her. With the mascara off her cheeks he sees the faint flush either from the rain or from their swapping of stories. “I got sent out here to ‘cool off’.”
“Fuck cooling off, if that nepo baby can’t handle your heat what the fuck is he doing in the bloody kitchen?”
“Right!” Harry exclaims.
She feels so alive, he thinks. He can’t remember the last time he was this open. This unburdened.
For so long it was about keeping your head down and doing the work, be berated by whatever chef you worked under and doing the work. It got him to where he was—sous-chef. But he was tired of keeping it in for the sake of hope, the promise of making head chef. He loved the kitchen—personalities and the quirks of everyone, but he was tired of everything else. Tired of being betrayed and being last and carrying everything around.
“My advice?” YN turns so that she’s leaning on her shoulder. Harry mirrors her without realizing. Behind her the rain starts to let up a little, the clouds deciding they had raged enough and the tantrum could turn into a sulk.
“Would love to hear it stranger,” Harry’s mouth pulls up into a tired smile.
She narrows her eyes for a second like she was searching him for sarcasm but whatever she finds grants him a small crooked smile.
“Do not try to quit swearing now.”
He barks out a laugh, not expecting this piece of advice from her. But the warmth in him spreads, having nothing on the sulking winds.
“That’s solid advice actually.”
“Mhm,” she nods.
A ghost of a smile on both their faces, a second stretches into a few as they lock eyes and really see each other.
Harry felt like this whole time they were just waiting out the weather together. But now it was shifting into something different. After all, the rain’s gone soft enough that a jacket could get either of them back. But neither move.
“So are you deciding whether to go back in or quit?” YN asks him.
“Uhm,” Harry thinks. “I think I’ve made up my mind. But I have to go in either way, collect my stuff.”
“Do chefs not have to give 2 weeks or something?”
“Fuck that.”
“Yeah, fuck that.” YN smiles softly.
Harry’s so warm now he’s pretty sure if he wrapped his arms around this soaking woman in front of him he would dry her up in no time. She had somehow turned his nightmare of a day into a dream.
“Thank you,” Harry says—and he means it. There’s a lot he isn’t saying aloud, but somehow she seems to hear all of it anyway. Harry suspects she was good at that kind of thing, maybe unless it had to do with an ex.
YN nods in understanding. “Yeah. Thank you for sharing your shelter.”
“S’not much,” Harry replies. He reaches up, tall enough to do so, and flicks the centre of the vinyl awning. A little pool of rainwater tips over the side, splashing down. Both of them share a quiet laugh.
“My ex and I used to come here all the time,” YN says, rolling her eyes at herself. “It’s good you’re leaving—means the food will get worse. Then when he brings that bitch here, they can’t have a nice time.”
Harry doesn’t know whether to laugh or to offer comfort. He hesitates a second too long, so when she looks up at him through her lashes, something catches in his throat.
“Too much?” she asks.
“No. No, not too much,” he says quickly. “If you want actually I can stick around long enough to serve them a guaranteed shite meal and then quit.”
This gets another open laugh from her—so much more rewarding than her humoured smiles.
“That is actually…” YN’s cheeks take on some colour , softening her whole face. “Very kind of you, sir. But go on—make the break now.”
Harry huffs out a breath that’s half-laugh, “sort of mad all of this.”
“Yeah?”
“I was just at my boiling point—having the worst day I’ve had in a while. Gray storm clouds and all.”
“Same.” YN agrees. “Our moods combined must have manifested this weather.”
“Maybe.” Harry eyes her, unsure how his next line was going to go. “But you were like sunshine in streaky mascara to my rainclouds.”
Her back straightens and he would have laughed at the dirty side-eye she gives him if she wasn’t actually intimidating.
When she speaks next it’s the most random question: “Harry, what’s the stinkiest cheese you’ve ever worked with?”
“I dunno, uh…Taleggio maybe?” Harry crosses his arms.
“What you just said was cheesy as fuck, like Taleggio.”
And he’s barking out a laugh again, constantly surprised at the quiet and unexpected way YN was funny.
“I’ll take that as a compliment because when you eat it it’s actually quite-“
“No no,” she puts her hand up to shush him. “No chef expertise to twist that into something good.”
“So you’re saying I wasn’t a spot of sunshine to your day today?”
She sighs like it pains her to be this cheesy. “If sunshine had to like, really penetrate through secondhand smoke.”
“Ah right,” he grins catching her meaning. In a moment of giddiness, of feeling light as fuck, he takes his pack of cigarettes and chucks it across the small lot. It hits the brick wall of the building opposite.
“Fuck those.” He turns to her with a grin but she’s looking at the soggy box with a shocked expression.
“W-what-why’d you do that?!” She asks.
Harry shrugs, feeling like the warmth was definitely going to come bursting out of him. Like if somebody opened him like an oven all of his heat would burst out, scalding and warm.
“I’ve been trying to quit anyway.”
“God,” YN pinches her nose. “You’re…you’re crazy.”
“Crazy dedicated,” Harry feels his humoured nature seep back in. “To quitting.”
YN admits defeat with a sigh. She bumps her shoulder into his, “Well here’s to quitting.”
Harry nudges her shoulder back, his eyes on the side of her face. “Here’s to fucking quitting.”
He punctuates his words with the F-word on purpose because he knows YN will get it. She looks at him on cue and they share the smile of an inside joke.
For a second they just stand there, sharing the quiet like they’ve known each other longer than a rainstorm.
A car hisses past on the wet road and the only rain falling now is the leftover drops sloping down roofs and windowsills. The air smells like cold pavement and whatever prep was happening inside. For a moment Harry’s chest squeezes because he was outside of that place not just physically but emotionally now. He knew stepping back inside meant that for the last time, he wasn’t going to be part of this family anymore.
YN glances down while his mind reaches acceptance, lifting something between them.
His apron, bunched in her hands—he’d forgotten he gave it to her, forgotten it wasn’t on him.
“Should return this,” she says, offering it out with a little smile.
“Oh—right.” Harry takes it, fingers brushing hers for a moment that feels like it will last long in his mind. “Didn’t even notice you still had it.”
“I know,” her eyes flick up to his with that same reserved warmth. “But the rain’s finally stopped.”
As if on cue, the silence around them stretches open, no longer filled with the constant drum of water or car tires brushing through the rain.
She steps back a little, creating space like this moment was finally ending but she wasn’t ready to let it go entirely. It was weird because Harry didn’t want to let go either.
“Guess that means I should go,” YN says, tucking a loose still-wet strand of hair behind her ear. “Get on with life.”
But she doesn’t move.
Harry swallows, suddenly aware of how quiet it was without the roar of rain, how he can hear the low murmur of the kitchen coming from an open window somewhere. “Yeah. And I should go uhm, quit.”
Her smile is small but encouraging. “Go on then.”
He didn’t want to go if it meant leaving ber. Harry shifts his apron over his shoulder. “Maybe I’ll…see you around?”
“Yeah sure. If it’s meant to be,” she says, her lips curling into something coy.
“Meant to be?”
“London’s pretty big, is it not?”
“Feels small to me.”
“Then we’ll bump into each other a few times,” she says so smoothly, and there’s something so vulnerable about it he almost forgets to breathe. She covers it up with a joke, “you know. If I catch a whiff of Tagellio I’ll know how to find you.”
“Taleggio,” Harry grins as he corrects her. It was cute.
She wrinkles her nose like she’s smelled it, “Yeah that.”
“Probably shouldn’t though. A smell that bad…”
“In London…”
“Yeah,” both of them say with a crack of a smile. “Best not.”
“Wish me luck then.” Harry says finally.
And then because staying would mean doing something more reckless than quitting his job without another, Harry nods, turns, and heads inside. He hears the faint good luck behind.
The restaurant’s lobby feels colder. Voices echo from the kitchen, familiar voices and easy banter flowing as everyone preps for the opening hours. This was it, this was the end.
Harry walks further in, glimpsing the front window, and out of habit glances sideways.
YN. She walks down the wet pavement, hair still damp, adjusting her jacket around her while holding the iPad. He never did figure out why it was tucked into her jeans.
Then it hits him—he was a complete idiot.
If it’s meant to be.
London’s a big place.
Fuck! He was supposed to get her number!
Harry pivots so fast and rushes out, the hostess startles when he barrels past her. He hears her call his name but he’s already bursting through the front doors, nearly tripping on his way to her.
“YN!”
She pauses before turning with squinted eyes. They widen when they see him, “You already told them!?”
“No!” Harry pants, laughing and breathless as he walks up to her. “I just—I needed your number. Before you…were lost to London’s streets
Her shoulders relax, a grin breaking through; he had put her puzzle pieces in the right places. “Oh! Alright. Sure. You can have my number.”
“Perfect,” he steps closer into the rain-damp air between them and hands his phone over.
He watches her type it in, finding it hard to believe this was something that was going to happen. That this day didn’t end up shitty because of her.
“There’s a saying,” he says without thinking. Maybe because he wasn’t sure he would have the balls to call her later or tell her how much she’s helped him today. She looks up at him waiting for him to continue. “Uh. It goes something like, the same water that hardens the egg softens the pasta.”
She raises a brow.
“I thought today’s boiling water would’ve hardened the egg. But…”
Her eyebrow comes down, eyes softening as she understands what he’s not saying.
“Me too Harry. Now I’ve got a bowl of cooked pasta.” She smiles.
“Good. Pasta’s good.” Harry feels good that she got the same thing out of their conversation as he did.
She huffs a laugh as she hands his phone back.
“Wait actually, are you free right now?” Harry asks as he realizes he could do whatever he wanted. “Because I am quitting right now. And then I’m doing fuck-all. I-I’d like to buy you a drink. Or tea. Or anything—just don’t disappear yet. Please.”
Her cheeks warm, “I won’t. Disappear.”
Harry exhales out everything weighing on his chest, he feels exhilarated and knows it has nothing to do with quitting.
“Good. Grand. Give me a few minutes to throw my career in the bin and get my knives.”
“Everything a modern girl wants.” She says and it’s one of those unexpected jokes Harry pauses at.
He opens his mouth to respond but he doesn’t even know how, too many seconds passing for anything coming out of his mouth to even pass as returned banter.
“Go!!” She pushes him towards the door laughing, like she knows he’s trying to find words for something.
He walks backwards, trying to memorize the way everything looks in the moment. Feels. Right on the cusp: brave and confident, light and unburdened, a big question mark of a future but no fear…only excitement.
And for the first time all day, Harry walks inside the restaurant without the sinking dread. Without the weight that this would be another think that’ll stick forever.
Maybe the storm was a good omen. Maybe his boiling point had rearranged his molecules towards the right direction. Because now that the storm’s broke, he saw clearly that it had made room for a pretty promising fucking rainbow.
hello!!! this is my submission for the @1dffchallenges quarantine challenge. here’s 4.3k words of fluff on you and Harry in an established relationship, quarantining together in his cafe. featuring Valentine’s Day lattes in March, neon green crocs, and a proposal or two.
A smile curved your lips involuntarily as you walked into the cafe, breathing in the rich scent of coffee and sighing in the warm air. You shrugged off your coat, folding it over your arm and hovering around the edge of the cafe for a moment.
It was just after lunch and the rush was fading. You tried to look nonchalant, letting your gaze drift over the various paintings on the wall, but your eyes kept darting to the cute barista behind the counter.
His name tag said Harry, and his dark curls were hidden under a black cap. Your stomach fluttered every time he met your gaze. You’d been in there countless times, but you swore your heart rushed more each time he looked at you.
Once he finally finished his last order and the line had disappeared, you walked over. He grinned, leaning over the counter. “Well, hello, there,” he greeted you. “Hello,” you said back, smiling up at him coyly.
“What can I getcha?” he asked, and you hummed, looking at the menu behind him. “How about… hm. How about, surprise me?” He raised a brow, shifting forward, and said, “How about… a kiss?” He pursed his lips and closed his eyes, making kissy noises.
You giggled, shaking your head but kissing him anyway. “This friendly to all of your customers, are you?” you asked, walking around the counter. “Only the ones I date,” Harry replied, starting on your latte.
“Yeah?” you said. “And how many is that?”
Harry winked. “Don’t worry, love, you’re my favorite.”
“You flatter me,” you laughed, hopping up on the counter and swinging your legs. Kissing you again as he walked past to grab something next to you, Harry said, “My soul purpose in life,” and you snickered. “What a sad fate.”
Harry shrugged, nudging your leg. “I’ve learned to enjoy it.”
“Impressive,” you said, taking the cup as he handed it to you. “A Valentine’s Day Latte,” he said, and you frowned. “It’s March, H.” He smirked. “And?” You laughed, and took a sip, and he raised a brow. “Yay or nay?” You tilted your head from side to side, taking another sip before nodding your head. “Yay,” you decided, and he pumped his fist. “Success!”
“Very Valentiney,” you laughed, and he shrugged, leaning back on the counter behind him. “That was the intention,” he told you. You peered into the glass, watching the rose petals float around in the pink colored coffee. “And pink,” you added.
“Got something against pink, hm?”
“Of course not!” you exclaimed. “Only makes it better!”
Harry grinned. “Wicked.”
There was a beat of silence, and you sighed, your smile fading a bit as you swung your legs. “So I just came from Niall’s…” Harry nodded and crossed his arms across his chest. “Right. How’s the pub doing, then?” he asked, and you shrugged. “Eh. He was telling me about closing for COVID.”
Harry bit his lip, looking at the ground. “Right… I’ve been thinking about that…”
“The website’s up, right?” you asked.
“Yeah, but… I don’t think…” He sighed, shaking his head.
“We could do deliveries,” you said, cracking a smile. “Get a few bikes.”
“Get a tandem,” Harry replied. “Go together.”
You shrugged. “Or I could ride on your shoulders.”
“Do it on a unicycle. Charge extra for entertainment.”
“And get a monkey. Make it worth their money.”
Harry laughed, shaking his head again and putting his head in his hands. “I don’t know. I don’t know what we’re going to do.” You sighed, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder. “We’ll be alright.”
He shrugged, putting his hand on top of yours and squeezing back. “Yeah.”
***
To be completely honest, you were nervous.
It was a few days later, and the cafe was (temporarily) closed, and Harry had sent you a text. Cafe in ten, it had said, and that was it. You saw Harry on the counter through the glass walls as you walked towards the cafe, hunched over his phone. The sign was flipped to Closed on the door, but it was unlocked, so you walked in.
“Hey,” you said, and he looked up with a grin.
“Hey!” he said.
You raised a brow, watching him hop up excitedly and shove his hands in his pockets.
“Right,” he went on, looking a little more nervous than you felt as he walked over to you and grabbed your hands. “Right,” he said again, “well, I have a question.” You laughed, nervously, and said, “You’re worrying me, H.”
He bit his lip, holding back a smile. He stepped back, and shoved his hands in his pockets again, and then pulled something out. It was a little black box, and your heart stopped when you realized what it was.
A ring box.
And then, he got down on one knee, and your hand flew to your mouth as you stepped backwards. You loved him - of course you did - but you’d barely been dating a few months. You hadn’t even moved in together. It was way too soon for this.
You began, “Harry -” but he cut you off, saying your name quietly as a smile tugged at his lips. “Will you make me the happiest man on earth…” He opened the box, so slowly, and despite yourself, you were curious about the ring he picked, and then -
Your heart dropped back down to your chest from your throat.
It was a key.
You caught your breath, laughing in surprise as you buried your face in your hands.
“... and quarantine with me?”
“You fucking bastard,” you laughed, catching your breath and shaking your head. “I was getting ready to reject you, you fucking moron!” Harry smiled, so smug, and raised a brow. “And? Is it still a rejection?”
“Of course not,” you breathed, still giggling as he stood up and you wrapped him in a hug. “Of course I’ll quarantine with you, idiot.” Harry laughed, kissing you gently but murmuring, “Somehow the insults don’t seem like a good beginning.”
“Jesus Christ, we’ll kill each other,” you said with a grin.
“And live happily ever after as ghosts.”
“Whoever takes over the cafe will be haunted out of their minds.”
Harry smirked. “Damn right.”
***
Harry pouted, leaning into you. “One more.”
“You said that ten minutes ago.”
“But it’s so… hard,” Harry whined, kissing you again.
You smirked. “Hard, huh?”
“You’re not making this any easier,” Harry mumbled, glaring at your outstretched hand but then groaning and pulling himself up when you just walked away. “You’re a bloody tease,” he complained, following you down the steps.
“And you’re bloody lazy.”
“Maybe we should camp out in the cafe,” Harry said. “‘s empty anyway.”
“Yeah, right,” you replied as you reached your car. “Neither of us could handle that - you look like you helped Frankenstein reanimate his monster with that posture, and sleeping on the ground would not help.”
Harry scoffed, swatting at your shoulder as you grabbed a box. “If my back’s that bad, maybe I shouldn’t be carrying your entire apartment in a box, hm? Ever think about that?” He grabbed a box anyway, and you laughed, kicking the door open for him with your foot.
“It’s a sign of how much you love, me, H, and it is not my entire apartment.”
“Might as well be,” Harry grumbled, huffing exaggeratedly as you reached the top of the stairs. Living directly above the cafe was incredibly convenient, you were learning, in all times except moving. Then the two flights of stairs were just torturous.
Despite that, you’d made your way through almost all of your belongings - which really wasn’t that much, Harry was just being dramatic - and only had a few more boxes to go. If you’d keep moving, it’d probably take less than an hour, but…
“We deserve a break,” Harry declared, plopping down on the sofa again.
“H, we just -”
“Pretty please?” Harry said, giving you puppy dog eyes.
“It’s gonna take -”
“Pleeasse?”
Finally you sighed, curling up next to him. “I can’t believe this is happening,” you murmured after a second, and he shrugged, kissing your forehead. “I can.” You smiled, looking up at him, and said, “Yeah.”
“Yeah,” Harry agreed, and he kissed you. You sighed, leaning into him. “Maybe we can get the rest of them tomorrow,” you mumbled, kissing him back. You shifted around to settle on his lap, and you felt him grin against your lips.
“Your first good idea of the day,” he said happily.
***
It only took a few days to fall into a routine.
It wasn’t a very productive routine, but it was a routine nonetheless.
Mornings were leisurely, spent in bed whispering nonsense under the covers or sharing lazy kisses. Lunches were ordered or made in the kitchen, fumbling over recipes and making a mess. Nights were the most action of the day, which was mostly just popcorn fights and giggly somersault competitions around the floor in front of the TV.
You probably made it through every single show of interest on Netflix, plus every single romantic comedy on the face of the earth. TV show reactions varied. Sometimes they’d keep you quiet, entranced in the worlds they created, and other times they were too ridiculous and far fetched to be believed and the dialogue would get lost in your laughter. Rom-coms tended to be a mix of gushing tears and snickered comments under your breaths.
You made competitions out of memorization, attempting to recreate the sword fights in the Princess Bride with chopsticks as you danced around his apartment and singing over each other as you rapped lines from Hamilton.
So really, you thought, listening to Harry snore with a smile, overall, not too bad.
***
“Pink walls,” you said, “with green trim and orange polka dots.”
Harry shook his head. “All green. Plus mustard yellow.”
“And orange polka dots.”
“Pink polka dots.”
“Fine. And blue stripes.”
Harry snickered, leaning forward off the back wall of the cafe and propping his chin on his fist. “We’ll give them a headache so they’ll get coffee just to stop the pain.” You nodded. “That’s the plan,” you agreed, and Harry raised a brow, turning his head to look at you. “The plan, hm? I thought that was just your atrocious eye for color.”
You scoffed. “You’re one to talk, mister neon green crocs.”
“That was one time.”
“One time too many.”
Harry sighed, shaking his head. “I’d paint the whole place that same shade of neon green just for something to do.” You bit your lip, then stood up, dusting your hands on your pants. “Let’s… let’s dance.”
Harry just stared at you.
“C’mon,” you said, a smile growing on your lips as you held out your hand.
More staring.
“Harry,” you whined, giving him puppy dog eyes. “Please?”
“We don’t have music,” he said.
“We have our phones!”
“Mine’s dead.”
You grinned, pulling yours out of your pocket. “Mine’s not. We can slow dance to… uhhh… to Etta James.” Harry groaned, leaning back against the wall. “I have no energy. We should sleep.”
“It’s eleven.”
Harry laughed. “Yeah,” he said, “it’s eleven.”
“C’mon, old man,” you replied, plugging your phone in and starting a song.
I Wanna Dance with Somebody started playing, and you held out your hands as you sang to him, “Clock strikes… upon the hour… and the sun begins to fade!” Harry laughed again, sliding down to the floor and watching as you pranced around the empty cafe.
“This is hardly Etta James, love.”
“Well, I’m hardly slow dancing by myself…” You raised a brow, holding out your hand again. “Unless…?” Harry grinned, shaking his head. “Oh, no,” he said, “I’m quite enjoying the show. I’d hate for you to stop on my account…”
He finally got up when the chorus hit, and you squealed in excitement. You pulled him around with you, laughing when he attempted a few moves and then encouraging him when he pouted at your mockery.
You saw him biting back a smile, and you couldn’t help but kiss him when he spun you around and dipped you low as the song ended. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” Harry said, grinning against your lips.
You grinned right back, pressing closer. “And what a wonderful way to go.”
“You know,” Harry began after a beat, “after all that dancing -”
“- it was one song -”
“- I don’t know if I can walk back up all those steps.”
You smirked, leaning into him and sliding kisses against his jawline. “You know… the one place we haven’t quite broken in yet…” Harry laughed. “Hardly sanitary, what you’re implying, you know…”
“We’re good cleaners,” you murmured.
His fingers slid your sleeve off your shoulder. “And we do need something to do…”
“Really doesn’t make any sense to go back upstairs,” you whispered.
“No sense,” Harry agreed with a grin. “None at all.”
***
“What if,” Harry mumbled the next morning, waking you up with soft kisses against your cheeks, “I left you… to go be a part… of the next Frankenstein remake...” You giggled, nosing into his shoulder. “Is it really that bad?” He pouted at you miserably. “Worse.”
You grinned, rolling over. “What’s the assistant guy’s name?” you asked. “Igor?”
“No idea,” Harry sighed. “We gotta watch that movie again.”
“Maybe you’ll find out when you audition for the part.”
There was a beat of silence, and then Harry groaned as he sat up and cracked his back.
“You sound like an eighty year old,” you laughed.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you very much.”
“At least there’s coffee right there,” you said, sitting up and grabbing Harry’s discarded shirt as he pulled on his boxers. “And food…” Harry yawned, stretching his arms towards the ceiling. “We should learn French,” he said as he opened the mini fridge under the counter.
“French, huh?”
“Or Italian.”
You shrugged. “Or Spanish.”
“Or Spanish,” Harry agreed, cracking an egg into a bowl. “Or Arabic.”
“Mandarin.”
“Gaelic.”
“Czech.”
“Russian.”
“Urdu.”
Harry smiled, whisking the eggs. “All of ‘em.”
“We’ve got time.”
“Wanna help out, lazy bum?” Harry asked, spraying a pan with oil with a teasing smile on his lips. “Or should I do all of this myself?” You grinned, replying, “It’s good practice for your role as an assistant,” but standing up and popping bread in the toaster anyway.
“Think Frankenstein ate eggs?”
“Wonder if he had chickens,” you said.
Harry grimaced. “Probably had a few zombie ones.”
“Think their eggs taste better or worse?”
“Oh, better, definitely - they’re just green,” Harry said seriously, and you laughed as you slid the toast out of the toaster and onto a plate “Want some zombie eggs and ham, Sir Sam?” you asked, grabbing utensils.
“But I don’t like zombie eggs and ham,” Harry said with a pout, coming around to sit next to you at the counter. You raised a brow, crunching on some toast. “What happened to ‘better,’ huh?”
“Right, well, that’s my opinion,” Harry replied as he scooped some eggs. “I’m sure Sir Sam -” He frowned, pausing. “Wait, ‘sir’? He’s not a… he’s a knight?” You snorted, shaking your head. “I have no idea, babe.”
Harry tsked, giving you a disappointed look. “You should really be more knowledgeable about the classics,” he chastised. You raised a brow. “Classics, huh?” Harry grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “Absolutely.”
You smiled despite yourself, nudging his shoulder. “Okay, Dr. Seuss, whatever you say.”
***
You woke up in front of the TV, yawning as you sat up.
The end credits of some movie were rolling on screen. It was a film, all in French, that you had, apparently, fallen asleep in front of. Harry was asleep too, curled behind you on the couch.
The two of you had been going through movies in foreign languages for the past few weeks, and they hadn’t actually been that bad. A few of them were mildly interesting, a few downright boring, and a few, like this one, so tiresome that you’d both fallen asleep about halfway through.
You started cleaning up, grabbing the empty popcorn bowl from the coffee table and walking into the kitchen to slide it onto the counter. When you walked back in, remote in hand to shut off the TV, Harry was awake and yawning.
“Riveting film, hm?” he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes.
“Oui, oui,” you agreed, sitting down next to him again. “What time is it?” Harry asked, fumbling for his phone. You glanced at the clock, beating him to it, and said, “Ten. We should do something.”
“Let’s go to France,” Harry suggested, stretching out on the couch. “Buy some wine.”
“Or a vineyard.”
“Or both.”
You sighed, laying back against him and watching the ceiling fan. “Imagine quarantining in France. Or Italy, or something. On a vineyard.” Harry nodded. “Would certainly be easier to learn another language, yeah?”
“We’d be drunk half the time,” you mused.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
You smiled, and you turned to look at him in the dim lighting. “Can you imagine? Frolicking around all day in our two hundred acres, half drunk?” Harry smiled back, shifting you slightly so he could sit up next to you. “Sounds like heaven.”
“I don’t know about the two hundred acres part,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss him, “but we could certainly do the half drunk part…” Harry shook his head, grinning against your lips. “Sorry, love, I don’t do anything half arsed.”
“Oh, my mistake,” you giggled, kissing him once more before standing up.
“Don’t bother with the glasses,” Harry called once you were in the kitchen.
“What are we, barbarians?” you laughed, and Harry shook his head. “No, darling, just incredibly lazy. Don’t feel like washing dishes…” You came back in, handing him the bottle of wine, and then looked around, biting your lip.
Harry took a sip, watching you, and then grumbled, “Oh, no.” You smiled, glancing at him inquisitively. “What’s wrong?” Harry sighed, looking at the wine mournfully. “You have your thinking face on,” he sighed, “which means we’re going to do something, and this bottle will be woefully full by the end of the night.”
“You’re too dramatic for your own good,” you laughed.
Harry looked up, smiling again. “And you’re not nearly dramatic enough.”
“We make a good pair.”
“That we do,” Harry agreed, standing up as he stretched his arms towards the ceiling. There was a beat of silence, and then Harry raised a brow, nudging your leg. “C’mon, then, out with it, what’s the idea?”
You grinned at him. “Cookies,” you declared.
“Cookies?” Harry echoed skeptically.
“Cookies.”
“Too far away,” Harry said conclusively, plopping back onto the couch.
“On the contrary!” you exclaimed, pulling him back up. “We’ll make them ourselves,” you said, and then laughed at the expression of horror on Harry’s face. “My dear rose petal,” he said, holding your hand gently in his, “my gorgeous honey pot. We are not making cookies.”
You scoffed. “Why not?”
Harry pouted, holding up the wine. “Because relaxation.”
“How about… relaxation… and cookies?” you asked, taking the wine bottle from him. He gasped indignantly and reached for it, and you giggled, backing up into the kitchen as he followed you.
“You clever minx,” Harry mumbled once you finally stopped, leaning into you and pressing kisses against your lips with a grin. After a second, you pulled away, smiling when he chased after you. “Cookies?” you asked, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.
Harry sighed dramatically. “Cookies,” he relented.
You shouted in victory and started rooting through the cabinets. Your favorite song came on after a moment, and Harry winked at you, coming around to help grab supplies. The two of you shouted along to the lyrics, spilling things as you measured and poured and scooped.
It was a game of theft once the dough was mixed, stealing pinches while his back was turned and playfully slapping his hand when you caught him doing the same. Thankfully, you still had a decent sized batch when you slid the tray into the oven.
Then you both stumbled back into the other room, and collapsed onto the couch. “We should have put wine in the cookies,” you murmured into Harry’s shoulder. Harry snickered, and then said, “That’s a grape idea…”
You blinked. “What?”
Harry giggled, nudging you. “Grape? Like, great? Because - wine?”
“Jesus fucking -”
Harry cut you off with a kiss, and you laughed despite yourself, leaning into him and letting yourself get carried away. His hands drifted, shifting you onto his lap, and your hands slid into his hair, messing with the curls at the nape of his neck.
It could have been seconds, or maybe hours, before you came up for air, breathless and red cheeked and way too hot and bothered for just a simple make out session. “You’re being a bit mean,” Harry whispered, and you raised a brow. “Am I, now?”
Harry nodded, feathering kisses down your jawline and behind your ear. “Too many clothes. ‘s quite rude, actually.” You giggled, leaning into him, slipping your hands out of your sweater, and then frowned.
Was something… burning?
“Shit!” you exclaimed, jumping off of him, and Harry gasped, reaching after you. You pulled yourself together, sprinting to the kitchen, shouting, “The fucking - the cookies!” Harry groaned, walking in after you.
They were burnt.
Well and truly burnt.
Harry came and stood next to you, gazing at the charred lumps of dough with a deep frown. “Fucking cock block,” he muttered, and you looked up at him, and then burst out laughing.
After a second, he sighed, wrapping his arms around you. “This went well, didn’t it?” he said. “Oh, wonderfully,” you agreed, and you shut the oven door. “Say, Styles,” you said, turning to face him, “ever heard of Postmates?”
“Why, no, I haven’t!” Harry replied with a grin. “You’ll have to show me!”
You nodded, pulling out your phone. “I guess I will!”
***
Between a few more cookie-baking-attempts, even more cookie deliveries, a couple more foreign-language films, twice that amount of romantic comedies, and even one or two morning jogs, quarantine dragged on as quickly as it probably could. Neither of you were sure how long it was going to last, nobody was, but you were constantly reminded of how happy you were Harry had asked you to quarantine with you all those months ago.
In fact, you were being reminded of it at this very instant, because you’d woken up to an empty bed and a sticky note signed by Harry with only the words, In the cafe, scrawled in green ink. A bit nervous, you got up, and got ready, and then headed down the steps.
The deja vu was unreal - he was sitting on the counter, hunched over his phone, swinging his legs. “H?” you said softly, and the deja vu continued. He jumped up, hands shoving into his pockets, a stupid grin on his face. “Hey,” he said.
“Hi,” you said back. “What’s up?”
“I, er - I wanted to ask you something,” he said, and you grinned, coming around to stand in front of him. “You’re making me nervous,” you replied, and he bit his lip, fiddling with his pocket again.
“Right,” he said, holding back a smile. “Right, well, quarantine has been fun, yeah?”
You raised a brow. Slowly, you agreed, “Yeah…”
“Well, I, erm - I was just thinking…” He ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat. “I was just thinking that I wouldn’t mind quarantining with you my entire life.” You laughed a bit. “I dunno about that,” you joked, and he flushed, shaking his head.
“I mean - I mean, of course not - obviously, the pandemic, I just - I meant -”
“Harry,” you interrupted softly.
“Sorry,” he murmured, smiling again. “Well, I have a question.”
“So you keep saying.”
He laughed, finally pulling his hand out of his pocket. But somehow, you almost weren’t surprised when it was a ring box. You grinned, glancing at it and then back at Harry but keeping quiet as he knelt down on one knee.
“You know,” he said, and all you could think was how much he was dragging this out, “they say you’re supposed to get down on one knee because of some old Norse tradition. Apparently, getting married is like taking an arrow to the knee and, erm - and, well, you know, falling onto one knee...” He dropped down to both knees, and you raised an eyebrow. “... but I’m getting down on both, because I’ve fallen… completely… for you.”
Before you could roll your eyes, he opened the box.
And this time, there was a ring inside.
“Oh my god,” you breathed.
“Well?”
“I thought - I don’t - this is like - but I thought -”
Harry laughed, leaning forward. “Christ, the suspense is killing me, woman!”
“Yes!” you gasped, letting him slide the ring onto your finger. “Shit, Harry, yes! Yes, of course!” He stood up, kissing you deeply, and you laughed against his lips. “Jesus, I thought… I don’t know what I thought - I just -”
Harry cut you off with a grin. “Shush,” he murmured.
You giggled, kissing him again, and then pulled back, letting your forehead rest against his. “Harry?” you said softly. He smiled, stealing one more kiss, and then said, “Yeah?” You grinned. “That Norse mythology thing isn’t true,” you whispered.
“Bloody hell,” Harry groaned, laughing as he stepped away and shook his head.
“Hey,” you said, pulling his back. “Hey, hey…”
He shook his head again, still grinning. “Yeah?”
“I love you,” you said.
Harry sighed, rolling his eyes and mocking nonchalance. He nudged your shoulder, kissed you, smiled. “I mean… I guess I love you, too… Even if the legend isn’t true… I don’t know if I’ve fallen completely for you, though…”
“Oh, shut up!”
Harry smiled, and kissed you. “If you insist.”
***
and there you have it!!! really hope you enjoyed! and if you did, a reblog or some feedback would be very much appreciated. thanks for reading!
I still have requests to do, but I had this idea come to mind and I wanted to get it out there. This is calm compared to the last Harry pieces I’ve written.
WARNINGS: 1.2k+ words. fluff. Alludes to smut, but none really.
You and Harry have been dating for about 6 months now. He has been a complete gentleman the whole time and you loved him for it, but something was missing.
You two had met by chance, at a party, you both didn’t want to be at. Harry came over to you and made a dad joke and complimented your outfit. You two hit it off, exchanged numbers, and are now completely head over heels for each other. You are still in the honeymoon phase and you almost never argue.
However, you haven’t had sex yet, like not once, not even oral, phone, nothing. The topic has never come up and, honestly, you were getting very horny and impatient. You could only look at Harry for a little bit now and not want to just jump on top of him and start riding him. He was absolutely stunning. From his brown hair to his beautiful green eyes to every tattoo on his body, the man was perfect.
You knew he was a ladies man. Harry has had his fair share of girlfriends and hook-ups but seemed totally uninterested in that part with you. It’s not like you weren’t touchy with each other. Your make-out sessions got you all hot and bothered. Harry would leave his hand on your inner thigh when he was driving. You’d always cuddle and he would hold on to your legs when you put them on his lap while sitting on the couch. But the sex part, non-existent, like you were just two friends who like making out.
Harry came over to your apartment tonight and you two planned on watching movies and pigging out all night long, but you also wanted to confront him about your situation.
When he entered he placed a passionate kiss on your lips and set down the food he brought over for your date night.
You admired him, unpacking all the food and talking about the people at the restaurant and how they threw in extra fries because he had to wait long and you just love him so much. Wow. Love. You hadn’t said it to each other yet, but you knew you did love him.
“And I made sure to get extra ketchup for yeh cause I know yeh love ketchup…” He looked up at you staring at him and his cheeks turned a rosy pink. “Why yeh staring at me like dat, (Y/N)?”
You smiled and looked down at the floor. “You’re just an amazing boyfriend, that’s all.”
You walked over to the table and helped him unpack the food, then sat down to eat. He ordered take-out and you were starving, you devoured the food in seconds.
After your lovely dinner, you took the handfuls of snacks and laid them out on the table in the living room. You had a collection of movies, but usually you two decided on watching something on Netflix.
Harry picked some sappy rom-com about a boy and girl who were best friends their whole life and then fell in love.
When the movie was over and the credits were rolling, you decided now was a good time to bring the topic up.
“Hey, Har…” you start.
“Yes, babe?”
“Um… do you find me attractive or what?” you asked, biting your lip.
“(Y/N), where did dat come from? Of course, I find yeh attractive. Yeh’re my girlfriend, for heaven’s sake,” he took your face in his hands and kissed you.
“Well then, how come you haven’t banged me against the headboard yet?” you blurted out.
That was the moment Harry decided to pick up a Twizzler and eat it and he nearly choked on it. “What?!?!”
“I know you’re not a virgin and actually quite the ladies man. So why haven’t we had sex yet?” you asked again.
“(Y/N)...” Harry let out a heavy breath. “We ‘aven’t even said the L-word yet. Er lot of my past relationships were with me because I’m Harry Styles, international pop star or because they wanted ta get in my pants. When we met, yeh weren’t like dat. Yeh listened ta me and actually like me fo’ me instead of just meh body and that is more special ta me than yeh know. Of course, I wanna make love ta yeh and kiss every inch of yehr body, but I didn’t wanta rush yeh either. Consent always,” he rambled.
You took his hand in yours and smiled at him. “I love you Harry, I do. And I’m not just saying that. I realized it tonight when you were unpacking the food. The way your care and remember the little things, that’s special. You are a beautiful person inside AND out and I won’t rush us.”
“I love you too, (Y/N), so much,” Harry now had tears in his eyes and he kissed you once again. “Thank you for lovin’ me, the real me.”
You now sat on his lap, legs on either side of his and your tongue slipped in between his lips. Your hands slipped to the back of his head and tangled in his hair. His hands were now placed on your hips. You felt his bulge hit your clothed core and you let out a moan. You pulled away from the his lips for a second.
“How have you lasted this long without any, you know, action?” You asked curiously.
Harry’s head hung low with a cheeky smile on it. “I get by. Wankin’ off and then your name leaving my lips when I cum helps.”
Your core was on fire. “Shit. That’s hot.”
Harry chuckled. “‘Bout yeh?”
“Me?”
“Yeah. How’ve yeh been handling yourself not gettin’ a piece of all this,” he gestured to himself with a huge smirk on his face.
“Well, my other boyfriend is a big help,” you joked.
“That’s not funny, (Y/N),” Harry scowled.
You laughed. “I honestly don’t know. You’re literally like a Greek god from head to toe. I don’t know how I haven’t just jumped your bones yet.”
“‘M not a Greek god, babe. Far from it,” Harry said.
“Mmm, I don’t know. I haven’t seen all of you yet,” you raised an eyebrow, “but I think you’re pretty close.” You moved your hips on his crotch, causing him to let out a moan.
“Yeh wanna do this now, love? Yeh sure?” he asked.
You nodded fast. “Please. I might combust if we don’t.”
Harry let out a hearty laugh and moved his hand down to your core, feeling your wetness. “Bloody soaked fo’ me. Shit.”
You were riding his hand, getting lost in the moment, this was the most intimate he’s ever been with you and you could’ve cum right then and there. “How-how big are, Har?”
“‘M six foot, yeh know that.”
“No, Har,” your hand snaked down to his bulge. “How BIG are you?”
“Oh,” his eyes got wide and his voice low. “‘Bout 8.8.” His cheeks got red again.
“Seriously?” you asked. He nodded. Looking up at the ceiling gesturing towards heaven, you put your hands together in a prayer-like motion. “Thank you.”
Harry laughed so hard his body shook. “Come on, love.” He gestured to get up. “I’ll show yeh just how attracted I am ta yeh.” He walked you to your bedroom.
It’s a shitty November day—most days in November were shitty. It’s like the month had given up on being anything, knowing it was after October’s foliage and before Christmas’ spirit. The trees are naked, the sky is consistently gray, and every class refuses to let up. Between assignments and mid-terms I’m struggling.
And for some godforsaken reason the one time I really need peace and quiet there’s chanting going on somewhere close enough on campus that I can’t concentrate in study hall.
Anger brews inside of me as I slam everything shut and stuff it into my tote. I would just go home and make myself a cup, change into something cozy, and get everything done there. Away from whatever craziness had descended this stupid campus.
I soon find out; the cheering is for team spirit—apparently for the first time our school’s football team was doing well enough to advance into something. Finals, semi-finals maybe? I didn’t know enough about this sport to know. And I was too stressed to care.
And of course it was a home game. Just my luck.
I’m stumbling my way through the crowd trying to move against the flow to get around the bend. When I finally get to where I can breakawag I stand on the patch of grass catching my breath while tears pool in my eyes. I blamed it on being tired and overstimulated and pms-ing.
I should sit, I think as I spy an empty bench. I’ll sit and let myself take a moment. Yes.
As soon as I drop the tote off my shoulder and take deep breaths, despite the buzzing crowd, I feel better. Marginally. Until I feel someone’s presence in front of me.
“Fancy seeing you in the flesh—you breaking any hearts lately?” The person asks. The person whose voice I would know anywhere. The person who could not be here.
I open my eyes and see him. Here indeed. The corners of his mouth tug up into that grin.
So we were playing it casual.
If that was the case, I take all those feelings—those things I could never actually say to him because what was the point—and stuff them into a box, locking it tight.
“Not exactly.” I return a small and hopefully casual smile and pray it doesn’t waver.
Leave it up to him to make a joke after all the baggage between us. A joke about my love life nonetheless.
The last time I heard from him was a drunken text earlier this month. We’d sort of drifted—no, that’s a lie. I’d slowly stopped texting him after one particular exchange where he thought he was in any position to make judgements about my dating life. Where he thought it was okay to act jealous and possessive over text when in person he hadn’t even tried fighting for us.
I could have handled it more maturely but knowing I wasn’t going back to our hometown in a while and my chances of actually bumping into him would be slim I’d let my anger get the better of me and just slowly stopped responding.
Oh he sure knew how to get under my skin, and it was already puckered after the day I’d been having.
But my body reacts to him physically in a way I wish I could control-lightheaded, heart pounding, sweaty, and like I just found out I had an exam tomorrow I never studied for.
He tilts his head to the side and asks, “Not exactly?”
“What exactly are you doing here?” I just notice he’s m wearing his school’s jumper.
“Really?” He motions to the crowd. “That’s not obvious.”
“Oh! We’re playing you?”
His face falls ever so slightly, “Yeah? You don’t…”
“Tune into that? Not particularly no. I have a friend who’s really into it so in first year I was going to games with her a lot. But I’m just…way too busy right now with work.”
I blab more than I need to, for some reason I feel guilty for letting him down. But then I feel angry that I feel guilty. Who was he to me? And if he could drunk text me he could have given me a heads up he would be here. That I could watch him play.
“Right on,” he nods. “That’s very you.”
“I was never a sports girlie.” I agree, refusing to play his game.
A spot of silence spreads out between us.
“So,” he finally sits and I stop craning my neck. “You said not really?”
“Huh?” I recall the conversation. Oh of course he was curious. “Well I’ve been avoiding this one guy I went on a date with a couple weeks ago.”
“Avoiding?” He perks up at the word.
“Yeah,” I say, dampening the flare in my chest. “I’ve just been so busy. Plus he kept talking about his secondary school girlfriend and how I was like her—I liked the free meal. I don’t know if I have time to like, date right now right now though?”
I force the words out and they feel prickly. I try to soften my tone again.
“And you?” I ask, like there weren’t unanswered texts burning a hole in my phone right now. “Carelessly handling any hearts lately?”
He laughs and I hate the way my heart stutters at the sound. “You think I still do that?”
The moment those words leave his mouth, we lock eyes. There’s something about the way he says it that hits a nerve. Maybe the fact that he continued to be a living heartbreak I’ve had to bury alive.
It feels like we’re lightyears away again. That vulnerability we built that summer feels nonexistent like he’s hiding behind a facade again.
I raise a questioning brow, suddenly not as amused.
He gets the hint, “Ah, not really. Recently uh…ended things with someone. There is a girl from my business class. But I don’t know if she’s even into me like that, plus I’m thinking of quitting football—”
“What? Why?” I cut him off, my voice sharper than I intended. “Y-your team made it to the finals or whatever yeah? And you love it.”
“Yeah,” he says, shrugging, his eyes avoiding mine for a second. “Well I’d be quitting after this season. I barely made it out now. They want me to change positions, and—”
“Are you still playing defense?” I ask, genuinely confused, trying to steer the conversation back to something I can break down. “Har, you’re a phenomenal forward. You’ve always been.”
“Yeah but with all my work, and it being third year, and being moved to play forward has this pressure—”
I scoff, the sound loud and abrupt. I can’t help it though! The frustration bubbles up in me like a pot about to boil over; there’s no stopping it.
“What!?” He snaps.
And there it is, I think. The facade is cracking.
“You always do this.” My voice comes out hard just like his facade cracking, my anger crackles.
“What? Quit football?!”
“Don’t play dumb,” I kiss my teeth. “You never—you never commit to anything!”
“This is about football?” He folds his arms.
“Yes! You’re always so…so scared of setting expectations, or disappointing people. Like look at you—you can’t even try this about football which is something you love, and you’re very good at, just because there’s a new expectation. I just…ugh! Nevermind!”
The words hang in the air between us, hanging heavier with each passing second. He stares at me, caught off guard by my sudden outburst. I’m angry, sure, but the hurt is more present now. The frustration doesn’t just come from football—it’s everything. It’s him, it’s how I feel shut out. It’s how we came close to something deep but we always stay at arm’s length.
He stands and shakes his head, almost laughing, but it’s not amused. “Are you seriously yelling at me about football right now?” His voice is incredulous, but I see something else flicker in his eyes. “That’s what this is about? You’re pissed off about me not wanting to play forward?”
With all the emotions coursing through my body I stand up too. Suddenly exhausted, my chest tightens with everything I’ve been holding back, everything I haven’t said since that summer, since the goodbye that we didn’t really say.
“Fine. You think I care this much about football?” I bite back, my voice too loud, too sharp. A part of me is aware there are people walking by—people I probably go to class with, but I’m too fired up. “I care that you keep running. You never commit to anything when you get too close. You can’t even make a decision about your life, your future! So no, it’s not just about football. It’s about everything. You joke, you back off, then you leave. Like—like with us-“
My momentum carries me into somewhere I didn’t intend to go.
He stops. The tension in his face shifts, his usual cool-and-casual demeanor faltering as he processes my words. He opens his mouth to speak, but then pauses, like he’s weighing the response carefully.
“You think I don’t want to commit to anything? Or to…us?” His voice is quieter now, less defensive. “What gave you that impression YN? I kept reaching out, you stopped! And I only gave you what you asked that summer—you really think-“
I look away, not wanting him to see how much that cuts. Because I know that if it’s not about commitment it’s about timing. And what the hell could I do about timing if it’s too late for us now?
“I’m just saying you don’t commit to anything. To anyone.” I soften my voice but its still laced with hurt. “You’re still the same Harry you were in high school, avoiding anything that feels like it matters.”
The words sting as they leave my mouth because I know I’m hurt and being a dick and I want his reassurance or something so that I didn’t feel so helpless. Like time was slipping away and something was trying to climb out of me.
The silence after my words is thick. For a long moment, neither of us speaks. I can see him processing everything, and there’s no usual deflection or joke. It’s a raw silence I’m not ready for.
He looks down, jaw clenched, his fingers rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t know you still felt that way. Still saw me like that.”
The words hang there and for the first time, I see the weight of the years between us in his eyes. There’s no humour as a shield; he’s not deflecting with jokes. I see the vulnerability—the fear of saying something that might hurt too much. Because we had that ability—to hurt each other deeply, to leave scars.
I take a deep breath and for a moment, I almost wish I could take it all back. But it’s out now, and there’s nothing left to do but wait for the next move.
“Well. Maybe that’s the problem,” I murmur. “Maybe we’re just not ready for moving away from all that. Or to be what we need.”
“Y’know what? I don’t—I don’t get you.” He turns abruptly and walks a few paces away, frustration practically radiating from him. When he turns his face is anguished. “I-I don’t know if I ever will.”
“What?” I snap. “What about me don’t you get?”
“You’re the one that said we wouldn’t end well—that it couldn’t work beyond the summer!”
“I know! And I meant it but it’s not like you tried to fight me on it! You just accepted it! Because it worked out for you and your commitment issues!”
“And you would’ve done what, if I fought for it?” He doesn’t hesitate, locking eyes with me as he takes a step closer. “You fucking pulled away too! You keep blaming me but I was there—you pulled away too!”
“I did it because it’s you.”
“Because it’s me?” His voice breaks.
“Yeah.” Shut up shut up shut up. “I knew what kind of expectations to have when it comes to you.”
I see what my words do to him and I feel self-loathing creep in.
It takes him a second to respond and when he does his voice is low, controlled. there’s no trace of the usual playfulness I expect from him when he asks, “What do you want YN?”
A question I wasn’t prepared for, one I hadn’t even fully asked myself until now. His eyes pierce into me with that intensity I’ve only seen in rare, unguarded moments. There’s no hint of humour or that cheeky grin; it’s Harry as he is.
The air grows thick, and my heart races, a sudden pressure building in my chest. “What?” I manage, struggling to keep my voice steady. “W-we’re not talking about me.”
“We’re talking about me,” he says, his tone quiet but cutting. “So what do you want from me?”
For the first time, I’m not sure if I want to answer. He’s so serious now and it makes me feel small, like I’m standing in front of a stranger who somehow knows me better than I’d like. I want to fight the feeling, want to push away, but I’m tired of fighting against the pull between us.
And I don’t know how to answer.
I want something from him, but I can’t say it. Not now. Not when the bitterness of our words is so fresh, clouding everything. There’s no room for honesty in this conversation anymore.
So I do what I always do when the truth feels too close and the hurt too fresh.
I push him away.
“Nothing,” I say, the words flat. I hate myself the moment the word leaves my mouth. It’s a lie—a cheap shot, a desperate attempt to make this moment hurt him back. And I know it’s the cruelest thing I could say.
I watch his face fall. His eyes, once so full of that playful spark, are now darker. The smile he wore so easily is gone. His jaw tightens, a flicker of hurt, frustration, and confusion.
It makes something twist inside me, the tension making it hard to breathe, but it’s too late now. The words are out, and I can’t take them back no matter how many nights I’ll spend wishing I could.
With his eyes still locked onto me he asks in such a vulnerable tone, I almost go back on my word, “You really don’t want anything from me.”
There’s a finality in the way he looks—like we’re both staring at the rubble of something we never quite figured out how to build in the first place. I find I can’t speak at all.
He laughs, but it’s hollow. A quick, frustrated sound that breaks the silence.
“I get it,” he says, more to himself than to me. “I guess that’s the way things always go, right? We always end up like this—fighting, avoiding, ego and pride, pushing away just so we can convince ourselves it’s all…nothing.”
I flinch at his words, at the accusation, at the truth I’ve been avoiding. I don’t know how to answer him, how to fix this, how to make things right. The fact that he’s here saying these things back to me with the hurt so open on his face should be enough proof that he’s not the same Harry I’m accusing him of being but I don’t know how to back away.
“Yep,” I double down, even though my heart is screaming at me to stop. “Maybe we should just take the hint. That summer was just…”
It was the truest most tender thing but I think I was delusional that summer without my friends around, thinking the timing meant something.
“Yeah it was just a mistake. An anomaly—we were just bored or lost enough for it to work then.”
Manslaughter. Right in front of me. It hits harder than anything else he's said, and I can feel the weight of it press into me. But my pride keeps my chest from caving in.
“We don’t owe each other shit, Harry,” I spit, the words tasting bitter as they leave my mouth. “Forget I said anything! Quit football. Date as many girls as you want and leave broken hearts behind. Break your own heart! Figure your life out—it’s not like I’ll be around to hear any of it anyway.”
I expect him to lash out, to throw a joke or a snarky comment in my face. But he doesn’t. He just stands there and I hate the way he’s looking at me, like I’m the one who just broke the final string that held us together.Like I’ve become something unrecognizable.
And the worst part is somewhere deep down, I think I still want him to fight for us despite all the icy jabs and unforgivable accusations. Just once. I wanted him to prove me wrong.
But he doesn’t.
He just takes a slow breath in and out. His shoulders slump, and for the first time, he looks smaller than I’ve ever seen him. The cocky, untouchable Harry Styles—the guy who could charm anyone—just feels so human in that moment. And it’s almost worse than anything he could have said.
“Fine,” he says, his voice low, but not with anger. Something sadder. “Whatever you want, I guess.”
I watch him turn and walk away, into the weaning crowd heading towards the sports centre. Every step away is another lightyear between us. My chest aches. Every instinct in me wants to chase after him, to fix this, to make it stop. But my feet stay rooted to the ground.
The echo of our past hangs in the air like the quiet after a storm. There’s a finality that rings out and I know this is something I’ll always have to live with.
Maybe I had become unrecognizable.
•••
1.5 years later
•••
It was mum’s idea to have a graduation party. Which was surprising because growing up she wasn’t one for celebrating my wins in such a big way. Those kinds of celebrations were normally done at my grandparents’ home.
But she had recruited some of my friends’ parents and with Nan’s old home being empty between rentals they decided to host it there.
What’s meant to be surprise is spoiled when I overhear mum talking the week I’m back home, all of my uni junk in tow.
Mum never did know how to talk quietly.
I hadn’t been back home since Christmas where I’d only spent a few days before going with Rhia’s family on holiday for the New Year.
And even now, I would only spend part of the summer here before I moved on to the next chapter of my life: a job I’d landed in London.
“It starts at 2,” I hear mum telling dad over the phone. He was supposed to leave early today and join us for a late lunch with Nan. She was in town clearing out more of her storage. It was strange feeling sad about it but I did. Because it meant she really had no plans of coming back, but I also didn’t either. Not with a new life waiting for me in London.
My phone buzzes with a text.
Rhia: is there enough drinks? Mum’s actually being so chill about going for a drinks run rn
Y: i think so. We did say byob optional
R: and you think ppl will?
Y: we can run out if we need. think we’re alright
Juni: who is getting blackout first
I put my phone down and head to my room where my outfit hangs on my door. It’s a cherry red cotton dress because the summer meant bright colours. It’s simple going down to below my knees with a square neckline and thick straps, my favourite detail was the overlapping panels in the front creating butterfly-like wings that split open halfway so even though it went quite long it was still plenty airy. And it was a warm day so I’d need it.
I have a nervous excitement about who would be at the party, so many faces from so many eras of my life. And technically it was the first party that’s ever been thrown by me—at least in my hometown.
I also think of the person who wouldn’t be there. I didn’t even know if he was in town. Last I heard—or saw, from him was last summer. I’d passed by the town square and saw him having lunch with a girl. It wasn’t his sister and it looked intimate. Other than that I refused to know anything.
It was stupid because it wasn’t like we were in each other’s lives very long. But that final fight had felt like something was ripped from me. And mostly, in retrospect, knowing I was also the problem made me feel angry at myself.
In the end I was just as closed off as he could be.i demanded so much without saying any of it, without being vulnerable myself. And what’s worse is when he was being open it had scared me right back and I’d shut it down on just as many occasions as him.
It had been a hard pill to swallow—a lesson that came from a couple failed relationships the last few years. A part of me wonders if I set them up to fail because despite all this time Harry would always be in my system.
My phone buzzes again.
Rhia: Y if she sees someone from her past.
Juni: ded is he even in town
R: i know nothing about him
J: I should ask Dan
Y: I do NOT want to crash out at my own party.
Y: Not that he would make me crash out…
Y: can we not pursue this
J: babe we know u too well
R: juni let’s keep it on the dl
J: 😈
Y: i’m serious bitches!!!!!
I throw my phone down, my heart crawling up my chest at the idea of Harry being in town. Of bumping into him. Maybe I just hide at home the rest of summer.
What if he also moves to London—he went to school there after all. Odds are I could bump into him there too. The odds could be anywhere.
“I’m so not spiralling,” I tell myself. “Pull it together.”
***
Lunch with my family is a bit awkward but I fill the silence as Nan talks about my London plans and dad uses his phone to continue working. I can tell Mum’s fed up with him—since coming home this summer I’ve noticed a weird vibe with them but I choose not to poke the bear. I had enough on my plate.
“What do you think?” Nan asks dad.
“Hm?” He drags his eyes off his phone. “About?”
“What your daughter’s talking about? At her lunch, celebrating her graduation that you attended two weeks ago.”
“Mum,” dad sighs. “She was talking to you. YN what is it?”
“It’s nothing,” I didn’t want a family fight in public right now.
“It’s not.” Nan lowers her fork. “I don’t understand why you agreed to come if-“
“It’s alright,” Mum steps in. “Honey, can you just focus the rest of lunch?”
“Alright alright I’m putting this away,” dad tucks his phone off to the side.
Tense silence settles on the table.
“So what’s that about?” I decide to ask. “Busy at work?”
“Yeah just a client—you don’t want to hear the boring details. What were you telling Nan?”
I push through to fake enthusiasm as I retell my story. To do that I have to ignore Nan no longer eating and mum and her sharing a look. Something was going on for sure.
I ask Nan about it later.
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“I’m not worrying I just want to know.” I ask. I was driving us back home.
“Your dad’s just working a lot. More than usual. He’s been half himself, makes it more annoying than normal to be around.”
“That’s it?” I push.
“Yeah. Don’t fret about it love.”
She pats my arm and I stay focused on the road.
“I’m glad you’re here again.” I tell her for the hundredth time.
“Me too.” She sighs and it carries all the memories we’ve been reliving since she’s been back. “As hard as it’s been. I’m so glad to be here before you head away. Your life is going to get so much bigger.”
“Thanks Nan,” I park in front of her hotel. “Why don’t you show up even for a bit? At the party?”
“Oh no. I’m too old for that crowd.”
“Nonsense.” I tease. “You don’t look a day over 50.”
“Well!” She exclaims. “You’ll make a cougar out of me.”
We laugh and I kiss her goodbye.
“Your gramps,” she clutches my hand before letting go. “Would be so incredibly proud.“
“I know,” I smile although my vision grows blurry. “I wish he could have seen me grown up.”
“He knows. Where he is.”
We hug again, but it’s the kind of hug that holds each other up. When we get our strength again we pull back.
“Now go have some fun. Some youthful drunken fun. But be safe.”
“I’m celebrating in your old place,” I laugh. “It’s gonna be weird but it’s the safest place I know.”
She flashes a watery smile, and with one last pat she’s turning to go back into the hotel. I watch the concierge hold the door open for her, watch as she walks to the lifts. Then I get back in the car and drive home.
***
Mum’s grinning when I gasp at what she’s done to the backyard.
“Mum!” I turn to her. “When did you do all this?”
“Last week,” her smile is proud and something else. It’s her eyes, they look a little sad. “I’m good aren’t I?”
“Yeah I-“ i look at the fairy lights running over the expanse of the backyard. There are seats and pillows littered everywhere, a table of drinks and bites. The inside of the house is lit with warm lighting and stocked with even more. It looks nothing like my grandparents’ house and for that I’m kind of happy. “I can’t believe this. You didn’t have to go all out.”
“Oh of course I did,” she puts an arm around my waist. It was strange her being so touchy-feely lately. “For my baby of course I did.”
“Aw mum,” I put my arm around her. “What’s gotten you so soft?”
“Oh I dunno,” she dabs at her eyes. “This wee baby I held in my hands is now taller than me and all graduated and moving to the big city! She’s a woman. I don’t know when that happened.”
“And?” I push. “That’s all?”
“Yeah!” She looks around the backyard.
“You’re a shite liar mum.”
“Hey!” She turns back to me. “Excuse your language!”
“I thought I was a woman!”
“You’re still my baby.” She crosses her arms. I see myself reflected in her and a weird leaky feeling guts me.
“Mum.”
“What?! I had free time okay?”
“Mum.”
“Okay! I didn’t tell you this but I was laid off a few weeks ago. I have too much time to spare. Your dad told me I could just retire now—he’s working enough to support us a few times over but…I don’t know!”
“I’m sorry I wish you told me!” Suddenly everything makes sense.
“Not during your happy time. Plus we’re fine, nothing is wrong. It’s just the life crisis of an old woman.”
“Still. I want to hear it.”
“What’s the point.”
“Well I’ll be an old woman one day—I want to know these things before I get there.”
Mum gazes at me like she’s trying to find something, and when she sighs I can’t tell if she did or didn’t but it’s a sigh full of unspoken things. “You’re a good kid. I…”
She bites her lip. Oh god, I think as my eyes instantly prickle with tears, this was getting very emotional and so unlike us.
“Look,” I pivot. “Find a new job if you want. Even if it’s part time. Who cares if you don’t need it. If it’s what you want…”
“Yep,” mum rubs her arms and nods. “Yeah. I’ll think on it. Anyway let’s take the ice out the freezer and finish this up.”
I let her go knowing that was the end of her opening up, but the emotions sit heavy on my mind until Juni and Rhia trickle through the door and start talking a mile a minute. They distract me until mum leaves and even more friends join.
Dana comes with all sorts of mixers and sets up a station by the drinks, telling me she would make me a special cocktail. I tell her I’d be honoured—her latest summer job was at a pub one town over and she’s been more showy about her skills. I loved the confidence.
As the party descends into full swing it’s a really fun time. People bring plus ones and twos so after a while I don’t even bother checking in on them because I couldn’t tell who I knew or maybe forgotten.
I catch sight of Jusuf from the cinemas and we catch up on what we were doing after graduation. There’s so many people I know here tonight and it makes my heart full that they all showed up. Although in a town like this, I also know they’d show up for any excuse to party.
At one point I spot Rhia and Juni in an intense conversation and when I approach they quiet down and Juni changes the subject before I can ask.
I find out later why.
I’m putting a shovel away after needing it because someone accidentally got their hat stuck in a tree doing a fake graduation-toss and I feel someone walk up to me.
“Long time no see.”
I know who it is. I know it with my whole being. But my body can’t compute that he’s here. That after a million scene re-writes of our final time in my head, and a million more what-ifs if I saw him again, he’s here.
His voice is low, not the typical teasing tone as if he’s hesitant about where we stand.
“Hi.” I manage to make out lamely once I turn around. I wasn’t expecting this when I’d packed everything away neatly and he was just a character in my head.
“Hi,” this cracks a smile on his side which warms me to one.
I suddenly remember the time he surprised me that first summer at the cinemas, showing up in my line. He somehow always had the drop on me—tonight feels a little like that now except older and full of more regret.
“Guess we’re both still alive, huh?” I ask.
A chuckle slips out of him—awkward, like he's not sure how to be, if he should laugh. How did we get to this?
“Just barely on my end.”
I force a smile; I feel too much. But then again that was standard around him. “After getting that degree, yeah. Barely made it across the finish line.”
An itchy silence descends, neither of us knowing what to do. I had thought of so many things I’d say to him if I ever saw him again but none of them fit into this moment. That was life—you couldn’t really plan moments like these.
Yet every scene in my head started with me finally being the vulnerable one. So I try it.
“I didn’t think I’d see you. Here today.”
It catches his attention, he searches my face for my reaction as he asks, “Why’s that?”
I pause but the truth comes up too fast. “I thought you wouldn’t want to be here. Or come to a party I threw, see me. Basically I thought you moved on…from everything. Wouldn’t blame you.”
The words hang between us, going in deeper than I intended to but the words just kept coming out. My usual old defensiveness rises up to shield me but I don’t pick it up. Which is harder than it sounds.
Harry’s only proof of hearing me is a tight shrug. Maybe he didn’t want to go deep. Bollocks.
“Well, I wasn’t planning on this,” he says and something flickers in his eyes like it’s been turned on. “But I got an invite, and I wanted to just see…everyone.”
“Right,” I nod. Everyone.
It grows quiet again and I’m forced to acknowledge that he probably wasn’t hung up over all this like I was. He’d moved on—it would be easy for someone like him.
I was trying to dive deep but we had been reduced to a shallow creek. This was our fate, I guess. I’d have to rid myself of this soon and really move on after tonight.
“Well I gotta do the rounds so,” I point to the drinks. “Grab whatever. Dana made drinks earlier I dunno if there’s any left.”
“Probably not,” he’s already looking away. “I’ll go say hy to her though.”
I want to grab the shovel I just put away and dig myself a grave right here. That’s how shitty it feels to be the one to be hung over Him. It’s not even the rejection more than the crush of hope that makes me feel so shitty.
In a daze I find Rhia and Juni.
“Who the hell invited him?” I demand because it had to be them.
Rhia eyes Juni who is texting furiously on her phone.
“Well?” I demand. “Juni!?”
“Huh?” She finally looks up. “Oh…heh yeah did you see him? Your grad gift?”
“Juni this isn’t funny! Why the hell did you invite him?”
“You’re gonna bump into him sooner or later!” She shoves her phone away. “May as well hash it out in case there’s something there. You’ll be in town for the next month…”
“There’s nothing. There.” I don’t mean to sound so bitter over it but my friends hear right through me. Both their faces fall.
“Is he dating someone?” They ask.
“I…” maybe that made sense. Why he seemed so over us. “I have no idea! If you don’t even know why the hell did you-“
I cut myself off. I didn’t want to fight with my friends over this. It was a happy occasion what the hell was I doing!
“That son of a bitch,” Juni says. “Did he say something to you, like?”
“What? No! Juni we’re…it’s obvious from his end we’re just history-“
“Yeah right!” Rhia interrupts. “He was more than happy to show up-“
“To a party. Of course he would be happy to be at a party with old friends and free drinks. It has nothing to do with me.”
Juni’s phone starts buzzing and she swears. “I have to take this one sec.”
She leaves and I look at Rhia with a question.
“Boyfriend troubles.” She shakes her head. “She’ll probably fill you in later. I barely know what it’s about.”
“What about you?” I pivot, realizing I was just talking about me. “How’s dating for you?”
“Pile of cow shite. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Convenient.” I cross my arms.
“Look, we’ll all catch up on our love lives later. It’s so bloody obvious what’s going on with you two, you guys are as frustrating as my own love life. Now let me just chat with that one.”
She’s off before I can ask who but she’s making a bee line to Harry. I bury myself in the crowd so he doesn’t know she came from my charging station.
I didn’t want my friends to talk to him. I didn’t want him here at all if he was just here as a formality. Or I did and I wanted to stare at him all night and mourn the fact that my emotionally absent parents had turned me into a fucking mess that couldn’t just tell a guy she really liked him and wanted to be something more than friends.
I get a drink and then another before I find other friends dancing to join. This was my party and I was going to have fun.
***
I knew I couldn’t avoid him forever; the party itself was in a small space and if he sought me out once he could do it again. And he does.
This time I’m biting on a gummy worm and stretching it out waiting for it to snap. I’ve had enough drink in me to have a buzz but I’ve just been having fun. And now that the sun was going down things felt like it was just getting started. The night was young.
Harry comes up to me just as the worm snaps in two. I straighten up when I see him.
“What did that poor worm do to you?” He asks
“Oh,” I laugh out of awkwardness. I wasn’t ready for teasing from Harry yet. “Wrong place wrong time?”
“Been there,” he jokes again but it’s not right enough to break the ice. He tries another angle, “Didn’t get a chance to say congrats yet.”
“Hm.” I nod. “Maybe because you were too busy avoiding me.”
“Maybe?” He tries not to laugh. God, we were so awkward.
“Impressive commitment that, actually.” I tease.
He sighs at my jab but there’s a smile on his face.
Who was I kidding, half our relationship was bantering—if I wanted to see if things could be normal, not responding to the teasing was the first thing not to do.
“And congrats back to you.” I finish lamely.
“Thanks. I thought you’d want me to avoid you.” he confesses, hand scratching the back of his head.
“Maybe.” I keep it vague. “Could be better that way.”
He’s quiet for a moment before he replies, “I disagree.”
The sure way he says it makes my stomach flip.
“Noted.” I look up into his face, I feel like I know it like the back of my mind but seeing it like this I can see all the ways it’s changed. All subtle, but I’d spent enough time studying it to know.
“You look good by the way.” He motions to me. “Really good. Like, grown up. In a good way.”
“Yeah uh thanks. I’m grown up alright—got a big city job and everything. How about you?”
“I’m sorry.” He says as if he hadn’t heard anything I just said and was continuing a conversation in his head.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“I’m sorry. For earlier. I…I came up to you and acted a bit mental. Your friend, Rhia…”
“Oh god.” I forgot to ask her what happened after avoiding it. “What did she say? I didn’t tell her to-“
“No she just…she didn’t really say anything? She just asked me ‘what’s your damage’ and then told me I should ‘figure out why the fuck you showed up here’ and then…left?”
I cover my face, feeling it flush with the heat of an oven. “Sorry.”
“No. I’m sorry. You were being all nice and open and it threw me off and then I just…assumed you weren’t that pleased to see me. So I was gonna avoid you.”
“Hm.” I uncover my face. “Well I’m not not pleased.”
He nods tightly.
“But did you? Figure out why the fuck you showed up here?” I ask.
It earns me a chuckle and relaxes his shoulders.
He leans against the table littered with more snacks than I had during exam season. People had really brought a lot. That was small towns for you.
His eyes grow a little more serious, “you know I’ve been thinking about what you said.”
“When? I’ve said many things.”
“Last time. About committing to things. About trying.”
I blink, surprised. I don’t know why. That summer together was full of me telling him to take responsibility—with Dana, his life, hell I was heavily hinting with me. But hearing him say it outright so vulnerably is a side of him I thought I’d lost the privilege to.
“I, uh…I signed up for this internship. Last summer? A local sports company. I was trying to get some work experience and they really liked me so they kept me on throughout the year? And uhm, they want me to join their youth management program.”
I feel my throat thicken with an emotion that feels like pride but also sadness. “That’s amazing congrats Har.”
“Yeah thanks. But like, initially I thought, no way I don’t want to be tied down. Y’know? What if there’s another better job out there.”
I make a sound, a laugh but it also sounds like a scoff. He smiles like he knows what I’m thinking. And I’m sure he does.
“I could’ve taken a step back like I wanted, but…I didn’t. I thought about what you said—I had been thinking about it since you said it actually. I don’t know, it felt like I needed to show up.”
For a second, all the memories of our time together flood my mind—the summer days, our late night talks, all the scolding and the confessions and the banter. He’s doing it now, doing what I had been after him for. Hearing him say this makes me feel a twist in my chest; he was growing up too.
I swallow and look away, the unexpected emotions making it hard to talk. “I didn’t expect you to take it seriously,” I finally say, kind of cringing. “I kinda went off on you that last time. About your commitment to…stuff.”
He chuckles softly, the sound feels like a balm to my embarrassment. “I needed to hear it. Honestly, I did! And I’m finally starting to really figure it out—stepping up and going after something even though it scares me.”
He says it so sure of himself, I believe him. And part of me feels proud. Of him and of us. Maybe we both inadvertently pushed each other in ways we couldn’t even see at the time.
My voice catches a little when I look at him next. “I’m sorry, though. For…how I said it. I wasn’t exactly gentle. And in all honesty I was pushing a lot of the fault on you. I could’ve also been the one to step up and say something but I was scared.”
He shakes his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “No. Don’t ever apologize for that. You were right to push me. I needed it. You always knew what I could be before I did.”
His sincerity makes my heart ache. Everything’s different now. But maybe that’s okay.
I catch his eye and hold it a beat longer than before, letting the silence between us say what we can’t.
“So long story short that’s why the fuck I’m here,” he says to break the seriousness—something he was good at. This time I laugh too.
“Thanks for letting me know.” I joke.
“No thank you,” he direct his soft smile at me and I hate that I can’t grab his face and just kiss him. “I don’t want to avoid you. So I’ve laid this all out to you; I’m sorry a-and thank you.”
“I feel like school you would absolutely fucking lose it hearing you say all those words just now.”
“He was a dickhead. Thought about himself too much.”
“So we agree.” I smirk.
“I guess so,” he looks out into the party. “He didn’t know a good thing even if it ran him over. He was scared.”
“We all were, in a way.” I say. “It’s nice feeling grown up huh?”
“Yeah, feels good to look down on him.”
I laugh, pushing him playfully out of habit. His laughter dies down after that and I feel the awkward bit creep in.
“I don’t want to keep you. Your friends might try something else.” He jokes but it doesn’t quite hit.
“Yeah. I gotta go back to dancing.” I grab another can from the melted bucket of ice. “You should join the fun!”
If he was just around to talk it out but not dance or even feel comfortable when I touch him…i shouldn’t be around him. Because all I wanted to do was burrow into him.
Maybe he did have a girlfriend and this was just closure. What would I know.
Maybe I should ask Dana.
Except Dana is locked in something when I spot her and when I try to find my other friends I find Rhia consoling Juni inside in the kitchen.
“Why are we sad?” I demand, knowing i was sad myself. It was probably the fucking house.
“Boyfriend troubles,” Rhia repeats.
“Fuck him,” Juni sniffles. “He’s…he’s…”
“We need to dance.” I demand. “Why the hell are we here celebrating grad and being sad about boys? Let’s have fun!”
So I drag my best friends out to the garden where we can dance in the cooling night air. I try not to look for Harry but it’s hard not to be magnetized to him after all this time. When I see him on his phone, maybe with his girlfriend, I bat the sadness away like a cricket ball. I would deal with it later. Now wasn’t the time.
***
The night slowly fades, so do most people from the party, but the hum of music is still in the air despite it being midnight. And then, almost as if the universe was pulling the strings like usual, White Ferrari begins to play.
The song was coded into my memories now and it always strikes me like lightening when it comes on.
It’s bad luck to talk on these rides...
It’s like I can feel the weight of shared moments: the soft goodbye we never said, the feeling that we both knew it wasn’t going to work—not then. All the aching potential we ever had.
I didn’t care, to state the plain. Kept my mouth closed, we’re both so familiar…
The last time we were actually together—quiet, bittersweet, right before we went our separate ways thinking it wasn’t the right time for us. Before the actual fight.
I shouldn’t but I can’t help it, I look for him.
And there he is across the yard, leaning against the brick wall. His arms crossed and eyes already on me. I freeze under his intense gaze but it grows soft as he realizes I’m looking at him.
For that second, it feels like time stops. All traces of humour are gone. He’s looking at me like he’s known all along that moment in the car was his too.
The ache in my chest is sharp and real, but it’s enveloped in a quiet kind of understanding: I see you, the real you, not who you used to be. I turn away and it hits me—he is’t running, he isn’t afraid anymore.
Shit. It makes my heart pound and mind race.
The song lingers, its final haunting lines filling the space between us, and when it finally fades into another, I turn back to him. Couldn’t help it.
For a second, it feels like we’re right back to when we started; with gazes clashing across a room at a party. And again now. Only this time, grief stems from between us and there’s no pretending there wasn’t a story of us.
I had convinced myself I was fine, learned to build this version of myself where he was just a memory, so I wouldn’t have to deal with how much I still wanted him. But here he is, looking at me like he hasn’t moved on either.
His gaze is steady and searching, it makes me feel seen in a way that I wasn’t prepared for.
My pulse picks up and it’s hard to take a deep breath in. I’m afraid—I want to look away and pretend this isn’t happening. But I can’t stop bloody looking at him! And neither can he; I feel like I’m getting all of him, more than I expected or prepared for.
I imagine myself running from it. Cutting this away, leaving for London and burying myself in a new life.
Not this time. Even though my chest is tight, my mind is screaming at me to protect myself, it’s telling me I’ll get attached and get hurt. But no. Not this time. You owed it to both of you not to keep running.
And just like that, he’s in front of me. The unsaid words between us are so obvious that we don’t speak. He brushes my hair back behind my ear and I close my eyes so I can soak in this feeling. On the cusp, before we decide what we’re doing.
“I always loved that song,” he says to me.
“It’s gotten really special over the years,” I look up at him. “But it’s lowkey heartbreaking.”
“Hopeful too though.”
“Hopeful?”
“Yeah,” his hand’s dropped by now but he holds it out. “Like this is a shite place we found ourselves in. But maybe somewhere else…somewhere out there, we find ourselves in a better one—a-a brighter one.”
I clasp his hand, his interpretation evoking tears I try very hard to suppress.
“Mhm,” I collect myself. “I guess I believe in this life—the one we’ve found ourselves in. And making the best of that.”
“Always the realist,” he smiles. A smile that I know so well—a smile that says it knows me so well.
I let out a shaky breath. “Someone has to be.”
The humour slowly leaks away and he looks at me like he has a confession, something weighing on him. I stay still in anticipation until we’re interrupted.
“Harry I thought that was you!”
Dana’s cousin, Ray, clearly didn’t read the room.
“Ray, mate!” Harry’s face goes back to the usual as he greets his friend.
Ray looks at me and realizes who Harry was talking to, he apologizes, excusing himself for just arriving. That he brought leftover pastries, from closing at his now part-time gig at the cafe.
I take them from him and leave the two friends alone, already seeing other friends of his orbit towards the two as they enter the garden.
***
In the end, it’s me, my best friends, him, and Dana. By the time it’s too obvious that I might be avoiding him I find Dana talking to Harry, her laugh loud as she says something I can’t quite catch. She gives me a final hug and a word of advice in my ear before stepping away, leaving us alone. Don’t get hurt.
I’m sure my friends are watching from the sidelines with the excuse of cleaning up, thinking the same thing. I approach him, my heart picking up speed like it always does with him.
“Hey,” he says softly, like this is the first time we’re meeting tonight.
“Hey,” I reply, feeling that familiar flutter of nerves, like my stomach’s full of bees.
“Was a great party,” his voice is warm. “I can’t believe I went to a party thrown by YN.”
“It’s not as impressive when it’s basically planned by parents and we’re in our 20s.”
“Yeah maybe 16 year old YN would have been more impressive.”
“I just can’t believe we have our whole lives ahead of us now. No syllabus or rubric to dictate it.” I say, trying to fill the space between us, to ignore how much my heart is pounding in my chest.
“Thank fuck,” he says, and I can’t help but laugh at the unexpected language, relieving some of the nerves.
I sense him watching me laugh, and my chest tightens—this quiet weight pulling me back into the moment, into us.
His gaze doesn’t shift, doesn’t falter. He’s taking me in like he wants to remember every detail of this: the way I laugh, the way I’m standing in front of him. Between what was and what’s to come.
“We’re not kids anymore.“
“Nope.” I agree. I let the silence hang there for a moment. And then, I give him a small smile, words slipping out, “I’m glad you came tonight.”
“Me too, I almost didn’t though. I thought you would kick me out on sight. Have our old class boo me out.” he says, the lightest attempt at humor.
“Psh that wouldn’t happen,” I look out to the empty garden. “You were always more likeable than me.”
“Never thought I’d be likeable to the likes of someone like you though.”
“Well I was at rock bottom when we hooked up.”
His eyes flash and I bite back a grin. We were getting warmer.
But slowly as we look at each other, and for the first time, I see that familiar intensity from when we were younger. But it’s less nervous, more confident—like he’s finally ready to face everything we’ve been dancing around for years.
“I just um,” there’s a boulder in my throat but I try to talk through it. There was something I’d wanted to say to him and now was the chance at the end of the night. Now or never. “I wanted to seriously apologize—I know you said not to. But I said some hurtful things the last time we spoke. Unnecessarily. Um, I’m sorry about that. Really sorry. I didn’t mean it. I was just hurting.”
Words I had regretted deeply since. I wanted to come clean.
“Do you have a ride home?” he asks, suddenly like he didn’t hear anything I said.
I glance over at my best friends, who are in the midst of cleaning up. They catch my eye and freeze, but I can’t give them any more than a quick glance before I turn back to him.
“I…uhm,” I hesitate, trying to push through the fear. “I was just gonna walk home.”
“Can I drive you home tonight?”
I don’t even pause. “Sure!” My voice comes out higher than I mean, and I immediately feel like I’ve given my nerves away. I clear my throat, trying to compose myself. “Let me just…grab my stuff.”
I point over at my friends, who are now not even trying to pretend they’re not staring. He nods and gives me a small, almost secretive smile full of all the unspoken things.
“Take your time. I’ll be in the lot,” he says and I nod. “And it’s fine YN. By the way. The apology. Thank you…and for what it’s worth I’m sorry too. I wasn’t my best.”
My nod is jerky, I can’t respond because he’s being so formal and nice and we weren’t normally like this. But I’m glad I said it even though my mind continues to spin with all the unspoken things.
I take a deep breath and rush back to my best friends, who immediately grab my arm, practically vibrating with curiosity.
“What’s going on? What did he say?” They’re asking at once, and I try to keep my cool.
“I don’t have enough time to go over it,” I insist, though I can’t stop the small grin forming. “I’ve gotta go but don’t worry about this place. I’ll do cleanup tomorrow. Thank you guys for, well for everything.”
“What! Don’t thank us—Go, go!” Rhia urges, practically shoving me towards the house. “We’ve got this covered, go get some.”
I take one last glance at them, love for my friends overflowing. And with a kiss blown in their direction, I head out.
I step outside and spot his car in the street. It's the same one from high school, the one I thought I’d never see again. The sight of it brings back memories and I can’t help the blush that rises on my cheeks.
He's leaning against the car, arms crossed, watching me approach. And in that moment, everything feels different but also so, so familiar.
I realize he was pretty sober tonight—that he was serious about whatever he was doing tonight with me. The things he said about growing up and showing up. He hadn’t turned to drinks or drugs to make any grand gestures or confessions tonight, this was all just him.
“Ready?” he asks when I reach him.
I nod, but I keep my mouth shut, not trusting myself to speak without revealing more than I’m ready to.
He opens the door for me, and I slide into the passenger seat, trying to act normal. But the moment I settle in, the familiar smell of him fills the space. I don’t know if it’s the combination of his cologne or the faint remnants of memories, but it feels like home and strange all at once.
The drive starts quietly, like this was all too big for small talk.
“Want to go somewhere else? Before home?” he asks, glancing at me.
A part of me wants to decline—wants to say we should just go to my place, keep it simple. But another part of me doesn’t want this night to end yet. It feels like we still needed the rest of it to figure out what was going on.
I take a breath, my voice barely above a whisper. “Ok.”
It doesn’t take long before we’re driving down the familiar path to the beach, the one where I fell apart in high school. My heart stutters in my chest at the sight of it, the soft sound of waves meeting the shore.
“It’s finally weather appropriate,” he says, pulling into the lot.
My heart bursts at his words, and let out a small laugh. “Yeah! You timed it better.“
We climb out of the car, the night air wrapping around us with salt, sand, and the static of what’s to come. He circles to the back, popping the boot and I can’t help watching the way he moves—his body part of my own muscle memory. I knew him like the back of my hand, I realize with a start.
“You didn’t bring wine too, did you?” I ask, half teasing.
He straightens, a bottle already in hand, grin flashing in the dim light. “Actually…” he brandises it like a magic trick. “Came prepared.”
I’m both surprised and a little touched; he came to my event tonight, not knowing how it would go, and yet he thought ahead about this. About us. He’d held onto hope.
“No glasses?” I ask.
“Oh my-,” he says, his face annoyed. “YN. I forgot. Again.”
I roll my eyes and laugh, taking the bottle from him. “It’s perfect. I’ll live without the glasses.”
We start down the beach, sand making an uneven surface to walk on, the sound of the waves crashing in the background, and I take a deep breath. The salty air feels like it’s reclaiming something I’d thought was gone forever.
“Are we going skinny dipping?” I ask.
“Not unless you want to?” He raises a brow.
“I am a good swimmer,” I used to go with Nan to the park as a kid and swim at school. It had been a while. “But next time.”
“I will hold you to that.”
“Oh I’m sure you will, Harry Styles.” I squint my eyes at him. He grins.
We walk until we’ve gone far enough, it was somewhere after 2am so the place was free of anybody.
“Wow,” he sighs as we sit down into the sand, the fine grains settling around us. “I can’t believe we’re here. Together.”
“I know.” I hand him back the bottle and watch him work to unwrap it, suddenly realizing. “And you forgot a corkscrew genius.”
“Ah, bollocks.” He bumps the bottle against his forehead with a dull thunk, and the sound makes me laugh.
“Maybe…” He digs out his keys and picks one, wedging it into the cork with the kind of stubborn focus that couldn’t end in success. I watch, fully engrossed in this attempt, as it raises the cork up a quarter of the way.
“Wow!” I exclaim. “That sort of worked?!”
“Not well enough.” He grumbles and puts the bottle beside us.
I pat his shoulder. “You’ll get it perfect one day.”
“One day?” He turns, one corner of his mouth lifting giving me that same dimpled grin I’ve thought about more than I’d like to admit.
“Yeah y’know…next time you come to the beach like, with a bottle.”
“With you.”
My stomach somersaults.
“Maybe. Whatever.” I stare out at the dark waters, meanwhile my face splits into a smile. I know he’s watching it happen.
“I could go and read your mind.” He tells me.
“If you could it wouldn’t have taken us this long to come back to this beach Har.”
“No no,” he pats the sand. “I could go and read your mind. I just doubted it all the bloody time.”
I look over at him, pulling my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. “I guess I didn’t make it any easier.”
“That’s right.” He nudges my shoulder with his. “Bloody hell. I’ve missed you so much…but you know that.”
“I didn’t.” It was nice to hear. Really nice. “And…I missed you too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I um, thought about your dumb face all the time.”
The confession feels fragile so I bury my face into my knee so it can stop spilling my heart out.
He laughs, boyish and smug, but his cheeks take on colour. “You know what’s stupid?” he says once the grin fades. “I used to think I wanted to be with anyone who was cool. Then you showed up and ruined that.”
“Really? Ruined it?” I ask, my mouth still half-covered but a flock of birds taking off in my stomach.
“Yep,” he picks up a handful of sand and lets it fall out of his fingers like time itself. Like all the time we’d spent circling each other. “You made me want something that actually mattered. Took me way too long to figure out the one who made me see things differently was the only one I needed.”
“Yeah. That’s so true,” I respond.
I want to say something more. Something that fills in the gaps of all the years between us and makes sense of it. But all I can do is look at him, really look at him, the person I’m just starting to understand again.
“Do you think it’s too late?” I finally voice my fear, barely above a whisper.
He frowns a little. “Too late for what?”
My heart thuds. “For figuring out what this is.”
He doesn’t speak right away. His fingers worry at the neck of the bottle, and for a second all I can hear is the sea.
“I don’t know,” he admits after a beat, his voice quieter more vulnerable than I’ve heard it in a long time. “But I think it’s worth trying. Or f-for me, it is.“
My sigh of relief comes out shaky he was finally saying the words of my dreams—that he wants to try. That he’d fight for this.
“Good. Me too.”
He holds a hand out between us. When I take it, he tugs gently, pulling me off balance so I fall against him. His arm catches me like they were always meant to.
I bury my face into his shirt, suddenly feeling shy in the face of all these naked emotions. No longer wearing coolness or fear—they’re as fierce and unrelenting as the waves on the beach. And he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.
He presses a kiss to the top of my head, and I breathe him in: salt, soap, warmth. I want to remember every single atom of this moment.
“Hey,” I murmur, tilting my head up. My cheek brushes his.
“Hm?” he says, voice rough, eyes already on mine.
My lips curl into a smile, challenging him to make the first move. But he was up for a challenge, he always was.
He cups my cheek, his hand warm and sure as our lips touch. He kisses me like recognition—like he knows exactly who I am, and he does. I know who he is too but I’m also uncovering him. Trying to accept that he was solid and not going anywhere.
His thumb brushes my cheek as he deepens the kiss, as he handles me in the exact way I’ve always craved.
Happiness hits me so sharply it almost hurts. It’s been so long since I’ve let myself feel this much. I know there is just as much sorrow and heartache to make up for it. But I had to stop thinking like that.
“Mmm,” I murmur into the kiss and I feel him pause.
He breaks away, untangling our limbs to look at me with a bemused expression before laughing.
“What?” I ask, now feeling very shy and colder without his arm around me. “Why are you laughing?”
I notice my minty gloss smeared on his lips, transferred in our kiss, and the blood roars in my ears as I anticipate what’s to come.
“Nothing. It’s just…I’m an idiot,” he reaches for me again with a look of awe. “World’s biggest.”
“I could have told you that. At any point we’ve known each other.”
He presses a grinning kiss against my mouth, “yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“So is that what you’re into?”
“What?”
“Idiots.” He balances on his knees in front of me and leans closer. I fall back into the sand, laughing as he catches himself above me.
“Ummm,” I reach out to brush his hair. “It seems so!”
“Well just my luck then.” He dips down, tracing kisses along my neck, light and teasing and sticky. Heat blooms where his lips were, and my head feels cloudy.
“But—but only the world’s biggest,” I manage to still get out.
“How perfect a pair we are,” he murmurs against my skin. And I couldn’t agree more. It always was him.
For a second everything blurs. I feel like I’m laying on the grains of sand—of every second we were together and every second between that and it surrounds me and spills over me and holds me right where I am.
His cold hand inches below my dress and finds my ribs, I jolt in surprise which gets both of us laughing again. I use the moment to push him to the side so I can turn us, straddling him with my knees instead.
“Ooh, I like the view from here,” he says, hands behind his head like the idiot he was.
“You better Styles,” I plant my elbows on either side of him and make a map of his face using my fingers. I want to memorize everything, this moment and him and the giddy feeling that bubbles up inside of me like champagne.
Out of nowhere he widens his legs, hitting my knees on either side of him so that I collapse flush against his body. I only just catching my nose from smashing into his chest.
I prop my head up. “What the hell!”
His eyes rake down my face and into my spilling neckline, “Even better view.”
He laughs, but by then I’m sat up on him again. His breath catches when I drag my hand down his exposed chest to his abdomen, putting pressure as I lean forward.
“View’s all you care about?”
HIs throat bobs. “Definitely not.”
“Thought you had more substance now.”
His hand circles my wrist, stopping it from travelling further. “Thought I made myself clear about calling me Styles.”
“I’m pretty sure you can’t tell me what to do.” I go to kiss him waiting for his lids to flutter close before I ghost his lips and peck the corner instead.
He gasps and pulls me down in response, moving us so I’m below again. Sand flies out around us—I just know I’ll find it everywhere tomorrow.
He sits up and both of our chests heave as we catch our breaths, grinning. I feel a chill creep in as the sand presses against my bare back but his gaze burns hot enough to chase the chill away.
“Hey, good thing I never did meet Gary. Maybe you and I wouldn’t have happened—maybe I’d be here with him.”
“Gary?” His brows scrunch.
“Have you forgotten?” I couldn’t believe he’s forgotten our first ever conversation. “Your twin brother-“
“Oh fuck!” He shouts out a laugh into the deserted beach. “Fuck Gary! He had no game. He wouldn’t have known what to do with you.”
“You barely did,” I remind him.
“But I’ve grown. Gary’s still a twat. Now he lives under the stairs.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.” He says, leaning closer with a sudden possessiveness. “And I know what you want, woman. What you need.”
“Harry,” I stop him with a hand to his chest and prop myself up, suddenly needing to say. “You better not break my heart.”
His face grows serious as he shakes his head. “Never. I’m going to take care of your heart. Protect it more than my own—I promise you YN. I promise.”
His words ease the knot that was forming, the perfect hook to untangle it. And instead of getting gushy I tackle him, our legs tangling together as he goes down in the sand again. I love how it felt like the entire beach was our playground and we could find ourselves here again.
I leave open-mouthed kisses along the column of his throat and back up to his mouth that leave me dizzy with desire. HIs hands come down to knead my body like he’s relearning every curve and I feel comets blaze through my brain. On each of then I make a wish, never let go, never let go, never let go.
When he takes my mouth in his, deep and warm, tongue coaxing, his hands work my dress up my thighs until every thought disappears in a meteor shower and my body is all nerve endings. The sea air caresses the blaze of heat he leaves behind.
“You’re all I ever wanted,” he whispers as he plants a kiss into my neck. Into my hair. “I’m never letting you go.”
“I wanted,” my pulse stutters. “This. You.”
He laughs at my inability to form a sentence, rolling us again until he’s above, eyes dark and amused. His kisses scatter—cheek, jaw, corner of my mouth, teeth scraping along a spot right above my collarbone only he knew.
His fingers press into the back of my thigh urging them higher so I clasp them behind him. We reacquaint each other to all the places we’ve loved on before.
My breath catches when his palm settles at the curve of my hip, move agonizingly slow to cup my heat, moving aside fabric to stroke once, slow and sure. Heat unspools under my skin, a single slow pulse that ripples outward, until I’m aware of nothing but the rhythm he creates and the tide moving in tandem around us.
“That’s my girl,” he urges as he senses how close I am before his head disappears in the tent of my dress. I don’t even have time to ask a single question as his lips kiss up my thigh, don’t even have time to relish in how my pulse reacts. My girl.
He mouth finishes what he started; a slow pulse builds and spreads until I’m aware of nothing but the pace he draws from me. He seems to sense exactly where I am—of course he does; when to push and when to linger. The world narrows to touch and sound. My hands dig into the sand, trying to anchor myself, but it slides past me. I come apart in waves, the sea keeping count.
When I can focus again, he’s above me, grinning like he’s just stolen the moon from above us. My patience for teasing slips; all I can think about is him—having him after all these years.
“Enough of this,” I reach for him, breathing heavy. “Just want you.”
I slide my hand beneath the edge of his shirt, not even hearing what he says next. His skin is hot and tense, the steady ridge of his ribs grounding me. I help him out of the rest of his things, fingertips skimming back to his collarbone, a tremor going through him that betrays his own undoing.
He was mine, I was his. Nobody else felt like this.
I don’t realize I whisper it to him, “Mine.”
He groans against my neck, and the sound of it—low, rough—pulls a quiet sound from me. He moves closer until his chest presses to mine, sweat and sand clinging to each of us, and suddenly there’s no careful distance left.
We adjust by instinct, finding each other until it feels right. His hand slides behind my back as I arch, fingertips splaying between my shoulder blades, drawing me forward into another kiss, another caress, into him.
What starts as memory turns into something slower, deeper. His our bodies are in sync, sure now, like we’ve reacquainted ourselves with a language we once knew. The air fogs between us. I can’t help the string of swearing that escapes me as he moves against me, as I feel so right and full and here.
His forehead finds mine. “Still okay?” he asks, voice hoarse.
I nod, catching his lower lip with mine before whispering, “Don’t stop. Like, ever.”
“Don’t tempt me. I might actually never stop.”
I want to tell him he didn’t need to. That we could stay like this forever but the words evaporate as he changes his rhythm, neither of us able to handle slow anymore.
His hands inch between us and the world tilts off axis for a moment. Every brush of skin feels like something being rewritten and we move with the tide, playful and sure, the years of hesitation lost out to sea.
Just the two of us together, light-headed with the relief of finally giving in, cards on the table. Soul and body bare to the other.
Outside us the sea roars on and hushes the rest of the words we didn’t need to say, our bodies finally doing all the talking instead; unravelling into each other.
***
***
The night is much quieter now.
The moon’s having it’s final moments alone in the dark before it begins its brief sharing of the sky with the sun. It’s pale light glints off the car in the distance and the horizon brings the rest of the light.
My dress is basically sand now and Harry’s shirt hangs wrinkled and unbuttoned on his frame—evidence of being put back together again. We don’t hurry back across the beach—every second was precious to us.
Our fingers stay laced, and every few steps he swings our hands between us. My smile stays on my face, it’s a soft feeling pulsing out of somewhere in my chest.
He catches my expression and grins. Both of us replaying everything tonight that led up to now.
I bump his shoulder. Wanting to say something—i’m happy or thank you or I’m pretty sure I love you. But I can’t even get my mouth to form any words.
His grin softens into something almost shy in my gaze. “Whatever you’re thinking, me too.”
I bite my lip, breath shaky but feelings sure.
The sand gives way to pavement and a faint whiff of petrol. He opens the passenger door for me, but I linger, eyes on the foamy edge of the sea so I don’t forget. When he leans in, crowding my periphery, I turn to meet him halfway. His lips taste faintly of sand and joy.
How did I ever convince myself anybody else could compare?
I tilt closer, arms looping around his neck, chasing the warmth of him. His hands follows the curve of my spine into my hair. I melt against him, half-laugh half-sigh.
His knee slides upward between mine, teasing, and my breath falters. For a moment, all I can think is recreating tonight, taking him home with me—until I say it out loud.
“Come back to mine,” I manage, the words breaking against his mouth. “I want to wake up to you.”
He stills to look at me, eyes wide like he’s making sure. “Really?”
“Yes.” I rock forward against him, urgent like a part of me is unspooling again. “Yes! We’ve spent enough time apart. I want—this. You.”
He presses his forehead to mine, a shaky laugh on hips lips. “I like this honest you.”
“I’ve always been honest,” I say, kissing his chin.
“True,” he murmurs. “Vulnerable, then.”
The word makes my heart skip a beat. It used to sound like weakness; but I tell myself tonight it sounded like trust. My pulse evens out beneath his touch.
He squeezes me once, a quiet promise, before widening the door, letting me go and I make a frustrated noise at having to let him go. But I slide in. The night air curls through the window, still carrying the beach and sitting there I realize how tired I was, I hadn’t slept all night.
As he rounds the car, I watch him through the windshield, the shape of him half-lit in the parking lights. We were actually doing this.
The car hums softly as we pull onto the road, tires crunching over stray sand. The moon slants through the windshield, our way home slowly being lit up by the rising sun.
I glance over at him. “We probably look insane right now.”
He grins without taking his eyes off the road. “Maybe a little, I think we took half the sand with us.”
“Yeah your car will definitely need a hoover.”
“Pretty sure I ate a bunch of sand too,” he laughs as he thinks about it.
I laugh as I realize. “That is very much a possibility. Worth it though.”
“You think?”
“Yeah. Finally worth it. 10/10 would do it again.” I tip my head back and look at him.
“10/10 would do you again.” He glances with a tease.
“Just get us home.” I laugh.
We fall quiet for a beat, letting the car and the sea beyond it fill the space between words. I feel his hand find mine on the center console. Warm, soft, grounding. I return with a small squeeze.
At a red light, I lean my head onto his shoulder. He presses a quick, soft kiss to the back of my hand where it’s still laced with his. I close my eyes for a moment, letting the moment sink in. This was real. This was my life.
I catch a glimpse of the backseat when I move back again, and my chest tightens with a pang of memory. Teenagers once, fragile and fumbling—him holding me when I had fallen apart, sheltering me without a word. And now here we were years later, sand still on our clothes, both of us able to laugh—stronger, steadier.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” He asks as he drives again.
“Not a whole lot,” the streetlights continue to flicker by as he starts driving again. “I figured I’d wake up to you and go from there.”
“Ugh don’t say shit like that,” he grips the wheel. “That sounds like my dreams.”
I laugh. “I will have to leave you to drop my Nan at the airport in the afternoon.”
“What time?” He asks and I tell him. “Wo-could I drop her? Like, could I drive you guys?”
I turn to really look at him—was he serious?
“Really? You’d want to?”
“Yeah?” He glances at me. “She’s one of the most important people in your lives. A drive together shouldn’t be too bad right?”
“No!” I laugh. “I’m just—shocked. I guess? I thought you’d be terrified.”
“Oh I am.” He taps the wheel. “But I’m pushing through all that. I’m here for you remember. I want…all of it.”
“Yeah…” My eyes flicker to the backseat—he’d been there for me even when he was scared. Even when we barely knew each other. Beneath all the ego, fear, and bad habits he’d always lingered.
He notices me staring and chuckles. “Thinking about the past?”
“Yeah,” I murmur, leaning back just enough to glance at him. “Just remembering when a wise idiot—oxymoron I know, told me back there ‘You’re hurting right now but life will change for you.’ And he was right actually.”
“Yeah? I said that? That’s good.”
All I feel is affection, “I know. You should say stuff like that to me again.”
“I-I am sorry for being part of that hurt.”
“Oh Har,” I reach over to stroke the back of his hair. “Life changed—is changing. For us. I made it out alive, remember?”
He nods, his slight frown disappearing as he thinks of a way to lighten the mood. “What about—life’s better with love?”
I groan, “so cheesy. Too forced. You had better things to say before.”
But I don’t point out that he’d said the L word. Not directly but it was there.
“We’ve got quite a complicated story haven’t we.” He takes my hand back into his at another red.
“You can say that again.” I agree. “It’s a lot. I can’t believe we’re back in this car again. Or that I’m leaving all this.”
It really hits me, strange and bittersweet, that I’m leaving soon. Streets that have seen everything: the echoes of grandparents’ voices, friends shouting across yards, first loves, first drunken nights, first heartbreaks; the quiet and loud moments of growing up and all it’s aches. I was leaving the place that raised me; a patchwork of memory stitched into every corner. Finding a new home again.
“London’s going to be lucky to have you YN,” Harry says, soft but certain.
I squeeze his hand. “I guess I already am lucky. For this,” I gesture vaguely between us, sand and warmth and laughter and promises.
He smiles, the kind that makes my heart lift, and the light turns green. We drive on, fingers still tangled, the hum of the engine and our small town slowly waking up filling the rest of the silence.
And I let myself sink into it, leaning just a little closer, watching the streets slip by, thinking of what’s behind and what’s ahead. If one thing was true, it was knowing that whatever comes next, we’d face it together. This time the only true thing was that nothing would break us. We were going to make it and we were going to be fine.
I sit in the caf replaying the last few interactions I’d had with Leon because he had been really weird today.
Leon, I’d been crushing on him for months now. Ever since we sat in the same row during our first lecture of ecology my heart has never recovered. He was cool—so much cooler than me, but he always had a teasing something for me. Once last month he even let me yap his ear off about how stressed one of the assignments was making me. After that he invited me to a study group doubling my time with him weekly.
The rest was flirtatious history.
All my friends have been privy of every single detail up until today.
Today I’d spotted him getting a coffee in the caf so I’d gone up to him but he was distant. I’d tried talking like usual but he would look over my head when he looked at me. It had made me feel kinda dismissed and mostly lame.
I don’t understand what happened. Or maybe it was inevitable.
“Probably inevitable,” I mutter. “It was about time right? That he figured out what a dork I was.”
Gia, my best friend, just stares at me with an eyebrow raised.
“He would! We both knew he would!” I whisper. “I just want to know what it was that made him so…he was so dismissive! I hate that!”
Just then I spot a familiar green coat and wave at the group forming by checkout. Pretty soon friendly bodies descend around us, jostling the seats in our usual corner of the caf.
“That’s all you’re eating?” Matty points to my apple and pastry.
“Not hungry.” I reply.
“Bullshit!” Saba says from beside me. “I know you didn’t have breakfast either. You bitched about over text.”
“Yeah you love their fried rice,” Jackie points to Matty’s plate. It was true, the caf did do a decent fried rice.
I shrug. “Maybe later.”
“Oh she’s moping.” Saba points to my face. “What’s going on now?”
“What’s what’s going on?” Chai slides into the final seat of the table.
“We’re about to find out.”
All eyes turn on me. “You guys don’t want to hear it…it’s about Leon.”
I see all their faces twitch with either apprehension or fatigue.
Unlike me, they were all over my crush—at first the support had poured in, after all I was the only one of my friends who hadn’t dates in the two years we’ve been at uni. But when the crush kept stretching out with problems after problems to present to them (meanwhile it stayed a crush) well, they got tired of it pretty quickly.
The rest was dashed when we all bumped into Leon in the caf one time and they met him. Nobody was particularly fond of him. They all agreed he was giving hot but repressed & full of ego.
That hadn’t stopped me.
“Go on.” Jackie nods. She was the mother of the group and would listen to me even if her ears were bleeding.
“You’re going to say it either way, don’t be coy,” Gia adds.
“Or don’t,” I hear Chai whisper. I glance at him and he throws a fake smile my way. I roll my eyes in return.
I dive into the interaction anyway because I was helpless with these things without my friends. Their questions pry at what happened the time before that—study group when I arrived late and barely had time to talk to him. And the time before that?
“When he asked if I was going to the Halloween after-party?”
Jackie leans in, “and?”
“And I said yeah! And he asked if I wanted a ride and I said I was going with friends.”
“Oh my god!” Jackie and Saba both groan, Saba even slapping the table.
“What!” I ask.
“Seriously YN?” Matty says over a mouthful of rice. “Seriously?”
“No what did I do wrong?”
“He asked you out!” Saba exclaims. “And you totally shut him down!”
I look at Gia who looks like she agrees with her lips twisted like idiot you screwed this up; quietly judgey with a lot to say was Gia in a nutshell and this time is no different.
“Guys. Guys okay okay. Hold on. How would I know asking me about a ride was asking me out!?”
“That’s basic,” Matty fills in. “He’s asking you for a ride so basically he’s asking if you’re going. He only cares if you’re going because he is asking you to go with him. If you say yes to the ride you say yes to going with him. If you say no-“
“Okay but why couldn’t he just ask me point blank?”
“Cuz he’s hot stuff with an ego remember?” Gia reminds me.
My friends exchange glances.
It hits me. “I…shit! Shit! Maybe I should—well I think I should explain to him how-“
“Noooo!!” The cries come from the group. “Do not!”
“See…if he was rejected but he took it well you could have,” Saba explains. “But the asshole—and I always knew he was one, is now actively rejecting you because his ego was hurt. So he doesn’t care why you said no. Just that you said it. And so you’re dead to him.”
“And dead folk don’t talk,” Gia adds. “So that’s now officially over.”
“No fair,” I pout.
“Screwed the pooch man,” Chai adds.
“Ew?” I stare.
“It’s a saying?” He stares back.
“Anyway,” Jackie waves her hand. “Get over him. Fast. Luckily it was just a crush anyway.”
“A flirtationship.” Saba adds.
“A what now?” Matty tilts his head.
“But guys he’s nice! Maybe I just hurt him but he’s so nice to me otherwise!? And I—honestly I think he would understand.”
“Okay babe,” Saba’s hand lands on my shoulder, gearing up to launch into an explanation. I was usually on the receiving end of these because apparently all my friends were better at socializing than I was. “He was nice because you’re hot. Hotter than you realize you are because you can’t see past your own…baggage. And he thought it was going for him because hot girls who don’t know they’re hot is easy work for guys like him. And until you rejected him he thought he had it in the bag! But, he’s not the kind of guy that keeps girls around as friends. He either wants to screw them or…”
“Screw them.” Chay laughs at his joke.
“Yep.” Saba nods sagely.
“Noo,” I cover my face with my hands. This has been months of setting this all up. How could I fuck it up so quickly? Leon was different, he wasn’t that big of an ass. He had to be different.
Maybe if I find him at the party we could pick things up again. Maybe…
“Better not be scheming there.” Matty flicks my forehead from across the table.
“Ow!” I rub my temples. Gia snickers and I throw her a dirty look.
“Okay guys so Halloween party. Are we ready?” Someone changes the subject.
“No,” I groan as everyone gives an enthusiastic yes.
The rest of the meal is spent discussing costumes. Three of them were doing a group costume they hoped would win them best group. It did come with a prize of 500 so I didn’t blame them for trying so hard.
In my head I continue scheming.
***
“I think I can win him back,” I mutter to Gia as we walk out of the library. I’d just spent 3 hours typing up an assignment and desperately needed to be out of my head and in fresh air. “Because he likes me right? That’s why we flirted so long and he asked me out—oh my god I can’t believe I didn’t get it. It’s so obvious now! But—oof!”
My conversation is cut short as I bump into somebody carting around their bike. And as my luck has it his chest has no cushion to brace off of.
“Woah!” The bike goes crashing down as two hands clutch my shoulders to stabilize me. “Are you alright?”
I stare up at who I just rushed into and it takes me a second before I place him.
Oh. Fit Dude.
First year, at some pretentious party with flickering LED lights and punch in buckets—which I’d avoided but he clearly hadn’t, he’d hovered near the table like he wasn’t sure how to act around me once we were the only two left.
We’d been part of a conversation circle earlier which I’d gone a bit too passionate about when they started discussing Brokeback Mountain. Since then we had been within vicinity. On one particular shared eye contact he’d blurted, “You look uhm, really fit.”
He may have said more but that’s all I remember before the flush crawled up my neck and my ears buzzed, that split-second of wanting to disappear.
I’d just said “what the fuck?” and walked off.
Gia had laughed about it later saying be was dorky. But she agreed, who the hell comments on a girl’s body like that? She said I should’ve cussed him out and gave me a few choice examples.
But I hadn’t been mad—just really uncomfortable. He’d crossed a line without realizing it but I know deep down he wasn’t trying to be an asshole.
The little I gathered about him made him out to be an awkward but nice guy with a British sense of humour. But I didn’t believe in excusing behaviour just because he was socially oblivious. So I made a point to avoid him since, even if my friends chatted him up at parties.
Now he’s in front of me again, same accent and awkward air about him, picking up his bike with an embarrassed half-smile.
“Sorry about that,” he says, his accent clips the ends of his words and they come out a bit like one word. “Didn’t see you there.”
“Yeah…that’s okay.” I take a step away from his chest.
Today he has on a black tee and jeans with a slight flare—if he was anyone else I would find them a bit tacky but with his accent and mop of hair I just chalk it up to something British I don’t understand. Like the Beatles, pretty sure they were British.
“I just have to find a place for this.” He says about his bike.
“Mhm…You and your bike seem pretty attached.“
Since last year (probably when he got it) I’d see him riding around campus all the time. Once walking home after a party with Gia we had spotted him pushing it alone. Probably also going home. Gia thought it was a little pathetic and thought we should walk together but I’d been firmly against it knowing I’d bear the brunt of his conversation.
“Gets me places,” he says about his bike. He sounds like he’s trying to be casual, but he looks like he’s not sure if I’ll cuss him out or bolt away.
I glance at Gia, who’s made herself scarce in the corner, mouth in a grimace with her arms crossed. Poor guy, she mouths.
She wasn’t the one he harassed—how easily she’s forgotten.
Harry glances to where I’m looking, to Gia, but I decide I was done talking to him.
“Anyway. We’re good. No harm done.”
I walk off before he can say anything else, feeling his gaze linger at my abrupt departure.
Gia rejoins me, bumping my shoulder as we walk off.
“Traitor.” I call her out.
“Are those a rosy pair of cheeks I see?”
“This is a rosy face because I had a collision and nearly took a handlebar to my gut. I nearly died?”
“Mhm sure.” Gia rolls her eyes. “You nearly died.”
“You would like that,” I say darkly. I can hear her smirk.
I tighten my grip on my tote and keep walking. By tomorrow, Fit Dude will be a forgotten memory. Probably.
***
The school’s social committee goes all out for a themed party. After all, we were a school known for partying and completely unashamed about that. My friends agree to meet at mine since I still lived closest to campus this year but I’m still finishing my hair when their frantic knocking sounds.
“Open!!” I hear their shouts. They were so dramatic.
“You’re not getting that are you?” I ask Gia.
“Nope.” She says and I just know she’s grinning behind her usual homemade bedsheet-ghost costume.
I roll my eyes, having to stop mid-pinning my hair to open the door. The rest of my friends spill into the room.
“Ready?!” Jackie asks.
“Almost!” I clip in a few more fake white streaks and let them take my costume in. I was the Ghosted to Gia’s basic Ghost.
“Ah!” Jackie points to the blue text bubble with the “delivered” symbol on it. “I get yours now! Clever!”
“It was a group effort.” I look back at myself in the mirror, white off-shoulder dress and to accessorize clip-on white streaks of hair, a black smokey eye, and chunky boots. I’d taped text bubbles all over me that were either “delivered” or “read at” to be Ghosted. I look behind me in the mirror reflection to where Gia sits in her unscary ghost costume and crack a smile. I can’t tell if she smiles back under the fabric.
“This is fun guys!” I turn to everyone. “Your costumes look epic!”
“Thank you,” Chai flexes.
“Oh I meant the group costume.” I stare at his bare chest under a khaki vest and shorts. Rope circles his body like a sash. Then I spot the hat in his hands. “Oh! Cowboy!?”
“Sexy cowboy.” He puts the hat on like they do in the movies.
“Sexy to people who forgot their glasses at home.” Saba mutters.
Saba’s dressed as Wednesday Adams, I know that one. And Jackie as another Adams character—it was probably her mother.
Finally I look at Matty, tall and a little stiff and dusty looking. “Frankenstein?”
My friends groan. “YN!”
“What!?” I hold my hands up. “He looks like him!”
I was helpless when it came to pop culture. I don’t know what it was—no matter how often friends sat me down and explained concepts or forced a movie down me, I always forgot. Luckily I wasn’t completely like that when it came to school. But I’m pretty sure I was hit by one of my brother’s footballs in the head growing up.
“Firstly,” Matty clears his throat. “You’re thinking of Frankenstein’s monster. Secondly, this is literally a group costume. I’m Lurch.”
“If you say so?” I grab my phone from my bed to take pictures. “Hey why didn’t Chai dress up for your group costume?”
“Why didn’t you?” He shoots back.
“Because I don’t know the characters clearly?”
“He would’ve wanted to be someone sexy and my character is already the sexiest,” Jackie says. I notice Matty eyeing her but I don’t blame him—she looked sexy in a black dress with a plunging neckline.
“Ooh. Sexy Gomez?” Saba says and they burst into laughter.
I don’t know what they mean but it turns into a fight with Chai. Which was never a hard thing to get into. He was always slightly defensive and slightly obsessed with himself.
Once we make it to the party, it’s easy to let loose with my friends. We only get two drink tickets so flasks are passed around like candy at Halloween. Matty makes us all laugh with his hilariously made up Lurch dance moves and I continue to annoy him by shouting “Go frankie, go frankie.”
In between the dancing and the banter amongst friends I try to look out for Leon. I know he was coming as Spiderman and every guy who brushes against me in a superhero costume is a reason for my heart to set off. But I don’t see him.
I do see other friends and we all comment on each other’s costumes. Mine is a hit, many friends with real looks of emotions on their face at the mention of being Ghosted.
Gia flits in and out from the crowd, she was always a shy dancer but I’m tipsy as I pull her into our group and force her to really use the eye cutouts on her sheet to keep up. We twirl around each other, Ghost and Ghosted, until Chai lifts me up away from her and twirls me drunkenly.
“Okay Mr. Abs.” I laugh when he puts me down. “You’ve got core strength we get it.”
“This is my fucking song!” He shouts out to Gia and me when Beyonce’s Single Ladies comes on. “Dance with me? You know the moves.”
Gia and I eye each other and shake our heads, ditching him. He finds another of his friends and forces him to play along.
“He’s drunk,” Gia comments.
“He is or he wouldn’t be that nice!” I laugh.
“Wish I could be,” I hear her say.
I swallow the lump in my throat, “Well I’m not drunk either. So that makes two of us.”
“Who’s not drunk?” A random guy beside me asks. “Let me get you a drink!”
“Spending one of your 2 precious tickets on me?” I gasp—okay maybe I was tipsy. “I can’t let you do that.”
He laughs at my sarcasm but his eyes don’t join. He’s annoyed. “Well show up at the Greek after party. Drinks on tap and find me there.”
“Oh I will.” I nod. Gia and I giggle as we walk away.
This was the school’s party but everyone knew the 3 Greek houses left on campus always threw the afterparty that most people headed to after a few hours here. That’s where my friends were going after this too—where Leon had invited me and I’d rejected him.
Ugh, fuck me.
“You’re thinking about Leon?” Gia shouts.
“No!”
“Liar!”
“Am not!”
“You should be thinking about bike boy,” she gives her shy smile.
“You like him!” I gasp.
“No!? But. He’s kind of sweet.”
“Do you not remember when he said I was fit?! He’s a total ass.”
“That was ages ago,” she says. “He’s been nice to you since.”
“Since? I’ve barely spoken to him.”
“There was that time last year when he listened to your story when everyone else stopped listening. About anemics remember? Or when he made fun of that prof who always picked on you and got kicked out of lecture? And he dropped Matty off that one time he got too drunk. Matty thinks he’s nice.”
“H-how do you know all this?” I glare. “He’s a weirdo! Stay out of it!”
I barely knew him.
“Matty?” She asks. “He’s loads better than Leon.”
“Ew! Gia! He’s our best friend. Plus, Jackie has a massive crush on him.”
“Fine. Chai?”
“Pretty sure he isn’t into women.”
“He might be.” She shrugs. “I’ve caught him checking some girls out from behind before.”
I stare at her in shock. She was more observant than I gave her credit for.
“Ew!” I shake my head of the image. “Can we not?”
She shrugs and says something about a drink before disappearing into the crowd. I’m alone so I go back to find the group again.
***
My friends and I walk to the after-party. The outside air brings me down from the high from earlier and reminds me I had a plan tonight. Operation get Leon Back.
The house is decorated like a five year old on a sugar high got loose—fake spiderwebs and jack-o-lanterns, even neon toxic waste? It’s like a halloween fever dream.
“I guess this is to be expected.” Jackie says about the decor.
I notice she’s walked with Matty the whole time here, both of them sharing whispers the rest of the group was too far to hear. Saba and I share a look when Chai complains about being stuck listening to us talk about our latest food find on campus. Both of us knew to hold him back from interrupting the budding romance with our friends.
We walk up the steps, already littered with empty drinks and people chatting around. The front door creaks open in true Halloween fashion and I’m hit with the smell of pumpkin spice candles, sweaty bodies, booze, and something burnt.
“This is going to give me a headache,” Jackie complains.
“We can go out back?” Matty suggests to her. “For fresh air.”
Saba and I glance again, hiding a laugh.
Gia skipped the after-party—said drunk crowds made her nervous. Really, I think she just didn’t like seeing me drink too much. She’d always been that way.
“Alright, crew,” I announce to my friends, adjusting my Ghosted costume, “I think I should find him. Leon. He’s here and I know it.”
“Your funeral,” Chai shrugs, heading off, “I will not be listening to you crying at tomorrow’s brunch.”
“Aw you’re joining brunch!?” Saba shouts after him. After big parties like this on campus it was our ritual to do brunch the day after. We debriefed and got over our hangovers. Chai rarely joined us but had been more often.
I look back at my friends.
Jackie’s Morticia dress (she told me the name later) swishes behind her, Saba’s Wednesday braid bounce as she moves, and Matty towers above everyone. I’m about to say something to convince them but I’m distracted when I see him.
Red and black webbing. Mask pulled up on his head so when he turns to look at the friend beside him I know it’s him. My own spider-sense tingling, heart doing stupid cartwheels.
Oh this was going to happen! A second chance!
“Oh my god,” I whisper. “Spiderman alert!”
And just like in a movie, his eyes land on me. I grin and wave, but he nods coolly in my direction before turning back to his friend dressed as Captain America.
“Asshole!” Jackie hisses in my ear.
“See,” Saba crosses her arms. “It’s not him. He is not the one. Promise.”
“You guys are being judgey now because he’s acting that way but he’s only acting that way because of a miscommunication.”
“He’s not. He’s just like that. We’ve been trying to tell you.”
“There’s so many costumed fish in the sea tonight. Forget him.” Jackie agrees.
“Yeah. Except don’t go for that fish,” Matty eyes some guy in a banana suit wearing PJs.
“Oh! Bananas in pyjamas!” I feel a flood of memories wash past me, watching the show as a kid with Gia and us play-acting the two. I forgot until now that we used to love them—we really have known each other since birth.
“Knows them but not Lurch.” I barely hear Matty say because my head feels full. Emotions and memories and bottled up secrets.
But I was good at compartmentalizing. I was good at putting the mess away. So I try to do just that.
Jackie’s hand lands on my elbow, her eyebrows up in worry. “YN?”
“We need to get her drunk,” Saba decides.
I snap out of it as their hands come down on my shoulders and force me to walk to where the drinks await.
We do some shots and then Jackie complains about the candles so Matty can be her saviour.
Which leaves Saba and I alone.
“You don’t have to babysit me b-t-dubs,” I say around a mouthful of jellybeans.
“It’s not like I’ve got somewhere to be!” She takes some of the jellybeans from my hand. “Anyway, Jackie and Matty hey? D’you think it’s happening tonight?”
We grin as conspirators and bump shoulders.
“Chai’s been acting funny too don’t you think?” I ask with loose lips. I purse them because this wasn’t me. I wasn’t the friend that pried and talked behind backs—people talked about their lives when they were ready.
“I thought the same thing!” Saba agrees. She’s oblivious to my regret. “Maybe he’d realizing we’re his only friends.”
“Wasn’t he dating someone?” Damn. I press my lips together again. What was in those shots?
“He was…very cagey about it. Maybe that’s why he’s hanging out again. They broke up? Maybe we’re just his rebound friends between people. Asshole.”
“Mhm,” I say because my lips were officially glued shut.
“Oh my parents got me on a facetime yesterday,” she turns to me. “Remember the potential divorce?”
“What!? Oh yeah!” I turn to her and tune into the story she tells. But every time I catch sight of Spiderman my heart stutters. I want to go to him—but Saba keeps refilling my drink, feeding me candy. We end up half an hour later, tipsy and sugar-high, swapping lore and gossip.
“Saba!?” Someone interrupts us on a particularly juicy detail about an affair.
“Huh!” She looks up, and then up again. An insanely tall dude stands beside us. When he notices both of us staring he blushes.
“Sorry! Didn’t mean to interrupt the girl talk…uhm. Saba. You got a minute?”
I look at my friend with a question on my face. She mouths, Basketball Guy.
Ah. The guy she went on a few dates with before summer but she stopped when he kept ditching her for his practices. We all said he was hot enough to forgive—at least his ditching was showing his dedication to his sport. But Saba could be stubborn and she’d thrown out the roses he’d bought her to apologize.
“I support it,” I blurt. What was wrong with me? This is why Gia needed to come with me to this party. One look from her and I behaved.
Basketball guy chuckles and Saba glares.
“I’ll be a sec.”
“No take all the time you two need.” I push her butt forward towards him. “Seriously. I’m gonna go see what our other friends are up to.”
“Just don’t go looking behind closed doors,” she whispers and we laugh. I doubted Jackie and Matty would make it there tonight but we were just happy they were finally making excuses to be alone. “And don’t do anything stupid.”
Another drink later and the edges of the room blur just a little, the bass thumping in my chest like a drum. Courage—the kind you only get from cheap drinks and being alone, starts to wind up.
“Alright, Ghosted,” I murmur to myself, adjusting my hair and hoping my makeup still looks good. “Time to face your fear. Time to confess.”
I imagine Gia humming in approval even though my sober brain knows she thinks Leon is a hot piece with no substance. She was always picky with her crushes.
I weave through the crowd, dodging a drunk zombie who almost uses me as a prop and Chai, who’s using his rope to flirt and doesn’t see me slip past at all.
Then I see him in his red and black mask looking out the window while someone dressed as a Squid Game character speaks to him. After pointing to his watch Squid person leaves but the room shifts and I have to hold on to the wall to keep upright. Oh god.
I squint back at my target. I could do this. I would go up there and confess it all and finally have a college boyfriend.
My stomach flops. My fingers tingle. This was it.
I tap him on the shoulder.
“Hey,” I start, voice cracking slightly from nerves and alcohol. “Hi. I—uh, I need to say something? And please don’t interrupt because I will literally chicken out.”
He turns, I kind of wish his mask was pulled up again so I can read his expression but maybe this was also good. Talking to him without seeing feelings or reactions. I would only know at the end.
I just wish Gia was here so she can watch from afar and we can compare notes.
My mouth opens and words tumble out like a broken faucet, faster than I can stop them.
“I—okay, so I know this is probably weird, but firstly I did not mean to reject you the other day? I just didn’t expect it and…I’m really bad? At this stuff? I’ve gotten a lot better with the help of my friends but I’m a bit awkward and I guess some might say I can be socially stunted which I don’t think I am. It just…well it’s not really my fault even if I was—according to my therapist. Who I don’t see because I’m crazy or anything! Or maybe I am? Maybe I am…”
Even through the mask I can tell his eyebrows are doing a lot. Eventually he just gives me a slow nod—attentively. It feel encouraging. Supportive. He’s listening perfectly just like I imagined he would.
My words trip over themselves, “Well I say that because…my best friend. In the whole wide world. Who I love so much like even now I love her insanely and well—she died? Yep. She died when we were like 13, and I never really got over it.”
His hand flexes on his…it might be swords. Spiderman had swords? But the thoughts are absorbed by my verbal diarrhea.
“I never really made friends after that. Until now in college that is…it was probably something about getting out of my hometown, but I still talk to her y’know—Gia? And I see her all the time. She was the best, she was so smart beyond her years and observant as hell. She could walk into any room and like read it and crack a joke to make everyone laugh? She was good at that even though we were like, awkward budding teens and…”
I gulp in more breath because now that it’s out it’s really pouring out.
“I guess she’ll always be a teen. I’m really fucking scared about turning 20 next year now that I mention it because I feel like I’ll be leaving her behind? So I take her with me all the time. I talk to her constantly. She’s…she’s still my best friend. And so all of that to say I’m a little fucked up? And I don’t always know the right thing to say? Clearly. And sometimes I don’t read situations right so when you asked if you should drive me to this party I like, I thought you were just offering a ride? And…”
He straightens as I continue, his hand scratching his head. Maybe I’m saying too much. Reel it in. Wrap it up!
“I wasn’t saying no to you, per se. I just didn’t know you were asking me out? So I would love to. Go out sometime if you wanted? If you’re not totally scared of me now. Lol….anyway yeah, I’ve had so much fun getting to know you in study group and you’re funny and I like the way you make me feel. Um…yeah!”
I expect him to take off the mask and say something. After all I had just unloaded a ton of shit. Oh—
“You can talk now by the way. Permission granted—no chance of me chickening out now!”
“Umm,” is all he says. His voice sounds rougher, not as deep. Maybe it’s the drinks? I-
At that moment, someone comes up to us dressed as another superhero probably—full suit in yellow with claws on his knuckles. “Yo, Wade! We’ve been waiting for you at the pool table are you not playing?”
I look at this new superhero and Leon—no, Wade?
I didn’t know a lot but I at least knew Spiderman’s name was Peter Parker. Well I knew this after Leon told me who he was coming as and I looked it up.
“Wade?” I ask the new guy. He looks at me like I’m an idiot.
“Yeah? Deadpool?” He points to…Deadpool.
“What the fuck? I thought th-that was Peter Parker?” I ask.
“What the fuck?” New guy asks Deadpool. “Forget it just play the next round, fuck this.”
He stalks off and I just stare at this complete stranger I’ve told my deepest secrets to. Not even all my friends knew all of this. Oh my god.
I feel the panic flood up into my chest, my lungs collapsing on themselves. Everything about me laid bare here and I-I-
“Breathe,” Deadpool’s arms come around me and I want to shove him off but I can’t. I already know to fold over, concentrate on something and breathe. I end up staring at a piece of confetti stuck to my shoes and slowly I lower myself against the side of the sofa while I catch my breath.
I touch my throat with my fingers, slipping down to the necklace I always wore. The one I had shared with Gia when we were 12–two halves of a heart. Hers was somewhere underground in the town we called home. That she still called home.
Holy fuck.
I remember where I am. The person—Deadpool, had settled on the small slice of floor with me. Probably feeling responsible. I squeeze my eyes shut before looking up at who I’d just fucked myself over with.
Oh my god. Of course it’s him.
“Look I’m sorry but for a lot of that I genuinely thought you were talking to me,” he says in his stupid fucking British accent. His mask is pulled up just like Leon’s had been and I want to yank it off entirely and tear it to shreds.
“Why didn’t you—“ I break off. How did he think—“Why the hell would I be telling you those things!?”
“I don’t know! You told me not to talk! I thought it was going somewhere else-“
“Why would I be telling you about my dead best friend!” I shout. “What the fuck!”
“I-I’m sorry!” He holds his hands up. “I’m truly sorry! I’m obviously not spiderman though I don’t even have the-the spider on my-“
I impulsively snatch the mask off his head when he bows down to point at his shirt, accidentally grabbing a fistful of hair.
“Ow!” He yanks forward.
“Sorry!” I blurt but the mask is finally in my hands.
He rubs the top of his head with a weary look towards me, and I remember all the times he watched me like this—like I would punch him for saying something stupid. I guess I just confirmed that I could even though I didn’t mean to.
I stare at the mask in my hands. It’s different, I guess. Both red with white and black eyes but I guess if I knew what a Deadpool was I’d know. I wish my friends were here they would know.
No, I realize. They wouldn’t have let me have this whole confession thing happen in the first place. Maybe I should’ve listened to them.
“You were saying things you probably needed to say.” Fit Guy says more to himself than me, and my attention goes back to him. “Didn't think it mattered who was behind the mask."
I look down at the stupid mask that ruined everything. I hated Deadpool, I decide.
“Plus, you were on a roll. Would've been rude to interrupt your TED Talk.”
I stare at him in surprise, the nerve he had. But his face is so earnest, like an open book who would just as well receive me cussing hime out just to say what he wanted to say. It reminds me a little of myself. Of Gia. Of the ways my inner thoughts always come out from Gia.
Gia, I clench my jaw so I don’t randomly start crying. It would be 6 years in November and I don’t know how time flew by like this. How I kept getting older and she kept getting left behind.
“You’re not Spiderman.” Is the thing that comes out of my mouth.
He laughs softly, somehow hearing my words despite the chaos around us. Actually, in this corner of the living room between the couch and lamp it’s quite tucked away. It’s a good place to nearly have a panic attack I guess.
“Wrong masked idiot.” He says.
I look at him, take in his eyes that are a few shades of green like moss and seaglass and his cheekbones that jump out in the Halloween lighting. The scruff on his face is uneven like it just started growing back in tonight, and his hair’s a flattened mess from being in the mask. His face isn’t perfect, a little uneven like he grew into it too fast but the longer you look at it the more it grows on you.
I shouldn’t look at it too long.
And, I realize, for someone who now knows the words I keep trapped in the basement of my heart, I still didn’t know his name.
“Named?”
“Huh?” He snaps out of whatever daze he was in.
“A masked idiot named…?”
“Deadpool? Oh—Wade.”
My brows scrunch, was he really that daft?
“Oh! My name? H-Harry? Did you not know that?”
“No you were just Fit Dude to me.” I say without thinking. My eyes widen and snap to his. He smirks.
“Like…you think I’m fit?”
“What?!” I throw his mask at him—whip it actually. “Why would I—what is your obsession with bodies a-and fitness?!”
“Huh? Fitness?” He asks before something dawns on him. He throws his head back and lets out a laugh I didn’t even think he would be capable of. It’s loud and authentic and not awkward at all as he tips back into the wall. His mask slides off his lap and I reach for it again just to have something in my hands.
“What!?” I say but his laugh is contagious and I chuckle, watching him lose it. “Why are you laughing!?”
“Oh my god,” he wipes tears out of his eyes. His dark forest-y eyes. “Oh no. You misunderstood. Fit means like…attractive? I think? Like you say someone’s fit like they look good, they look oh—fine! Yeah. Hot?”
Oh my god, I blush. He was calling me good looking (hot!?) that day and I totally flipped out. Had written him off since.
I imagine the look Gia would give me. Something like I told you he wasn’t a bad guy, and you judge too quickly.
“Jeez,” I swear.
“So why do you call me…Fit?” He asks.
“Well,” I cover my face. This was embarrassing. But not as embarrassing as everything I just told him—what was there to lose. “Well you called me fit once in like first year and I thought you were commenting on my body? And I…”
A giggle escapes me. The ridiculousness of it all just hits me right then and I hunch in laughing until tears stream down my cheeks. He joins in and we laugh until our stomachs hurt and I’m pretty sure all the alcohol has run out of my eyes.
“This is so fucking ridiculous,” I say when I finally calm down. “I’m—look, I’m sorry. I’ve probably been an ass to you. I thought you were an ass.”
“Who said I wasn’t?” He raises his brows.
I study him again, he could be. But he’d also completely dashed any reaction I thought someone might have to me spilling my deepest darkest secrets and turned this into something to laugh about. It’s like Gia kept trying to insist—I knew deep down somewhere he was a nice person. I didn’t think he would ever hold this against me. I was just holding onto my biases for far too long.
“Somehow,” I twist my mouth. “I don’t know if you are?”
“Oh I am,” he insists. “Always say the wrong things at the wrong times. Don’t always read the room. Get awkward around pretty girls and say shite like they’re fit without thinking of how it might sound. Oh, and crash my bike into said girls. Total total ass.”
He says it like arse which I giggle at again. Stop laughing, you’re going to look certifiable.
But he’s smiling softly at me, like I could be certifiable and he would just think it was cute.
Damn. I should go.
“Well, my friends are probably looking for me,” I try to stand but sway instead. He’s there—Harry, to keep me steady.
“Maybe get some water down?”
I wave his suggestion down. “Don’t go being all helpful now.”
“Right. Arse behaviour only.”
Another giggle escapes me and I slap my hand to my mouth.
“You can laugh,” he grins. “If it’s funny.”
“Nope,” I uncover my mouth. “No man is this funny. I’m just drunk. And I have to go.”
He looks like he wants to say something but he stops himself.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “Are you supposed to be uh, being ghosted?”
“Yeah!” I nod. “And the dress actually is off the shoulder which is also known as cold shoulder so I thought it was a clever double…”
I trail off. Why was I suddenly so loose lipped!
“That’s cool. You reckon Gia would have dressed up the same?”
My heart stutters—it’s strange hearing her name coming out of a stranger’s mouth. But the way he asks, it feels like she’s here again. Like he knew her.
His face drops as he realizes, “Shit sorry if that-“
“She would.” I say. “Actually every Halloweens she dresses up as a ghost. White bedsheet and all.”
It was the last thing she dressed up as at 13. Like she knew that would be her legacy.
I know I sound crazy. Certifiable. But just like I thought, his eyes stay steady on me, a small smile on his lips. My stomach does a strange flip, and I feel unfamiliar in my body suddenly. I feel expansive and like everything is overflowing and shy that maybe others can see all this happening.
But it’s dimly lit and everyone’s busy with their own Halloween business. The only person looking is him. Harry.
His lips part, “Ghost and Ghosted.”
I press my lips together and smile. He got it.
“H-how did she? Die?”
I swallow the lump, always finding the moment hard to talk about. “Uhm, car. It was a…car.”
“Well.” He nods like he can see I was on the verge of falling apart again. “She sounds like someone I’d get along with. Sounds very cool.”
“She would like you,” I say without thinking. Gia did like him.
We both blush.
“I should go.” I say again. I take a few steps out so that I’m no longer in the corner with him. I miss it as someone’s elbow jostles into me from the side. “But hey next time a stranger starts confessing to you in the dark, take the mask off?”
“Next time,” he inches closer so we don’t have to shout. “You should check under the mask before you start confessing.”
“Good point.”
“A-and maybe you should talk about your friend more often. In general. So it doesn’t all come vomiting out to a stranger like that?”
My mouth falls open and he bites back a laugh.
“You really are an ass.” I say even though I know what he was trying to say. And it’s oddly touching. Fit Dude was growing on me.
“Arse behaviour only.” He grins because he knows me enough now to know it makes me laugh.
But I don’t give him the point, smiling instead because I can’t help it.
I take the point instead when I take the mask I’d picked up from the ground and get close to him, so close that the smile drops from his face. I raise my hands above his head and then slip the mask back on, and it’s a little crooked but it’s just like before. Like all of this never happened. With the mask on I don’t see what his mossy eyes look at me with or how his cheeks flush when I pat his face twice and walk away back into the crowd.
I’d find my friends, and head home. Home to Gia to tell her all about this and how she was right. She was usually right.
I catch Matty’s tall Lurch frame in the back of a room and head towards it. I brush against Spiderman at the door and hesitate, heart pumping. But when he looks at me I feel small. Like I’m trying to measure up. I realize that’s how I’ve been feeling ever since we started studying together. That’s how I’ve felt with most guys I’ve crushed on.
“Nice costume,” I say to him and continue pushing past.
“Hey, wait!” I hear him calling after me.
I turn out of surprise, maybe I’d gotten the wrong person again—Leon would never call me back.
But it’s him alright.
“What are you doing?” He asks. “Now.”
“Oh,” I turn back to Lurch. “Just going back to my friends. Heading home soon.”
His eyes travel to where I point and something hard takes over his features.
“You’re just sticking with your friends all night? No…date or anything?”
“Sort of and…nope.”
His jaw ticks. “You know YN you’re hot but…not that hot.”
I’m so shocked by the words coming out of his mouth that I don’t say anything at first. But as I get over my shock I see how pathetic Leon is—hot but no substance.
“Well that’s fine,” I shout as I start moving back to my friends. “I’d rather be fit than just hot.”
I turn away from Leon’s confused disgust with a grin and leave him behind. My friends were right, and so was Gia. What was I thinking?
I just thank whatever was out there for my cursed memory when it came to pop culture. Thankful that my confession had landed on Deadpool’s ears rather than Spiderman’s. Thankful for do-overs and second chances and British boys who might be asses but were asses with a good heart.
“You look like you’ve got a story to tell,” Jackie welcomes me with an open arm when I reach them. I spy a bruise on her neck and flick her on it.
“You too.”
“Ow!”
“Hey!” Chai leans in, slurring his words. “Leave the scoop for brunch guys. I’m too drunk right now.”
We laugh at our strange friend but agree to leave then like we came, together. I catch Harry’s eye as we go—he’s at the pool table bending down to assess his move. He stands up when he catches sight of me and I don’t know what comes over me as I make an “o” with my fingers and mouth one word to him,
Fit.
I swear I hear his infectious laugh even outside the door. It lingers in a soft corner of my heart.
A/N: I wanted to play with the idea of 2 characters falling in love at different points in a story and what that would be like on each side. Idk if I fully captured what I wanted but I liked writing from harry/reader pov like this even though I kept switching partways lol.
Would love to know for inspo purposes—how do you know you’re falling?
———————————————
This is a first, you thought as you and Claire walked into the art gallery—one of your friends had a show of their unique pieces, mixing tech with traditional art. All of it was inspired by their partner, the lead in an indie pop band so to tie it all together they were playing at the gallery while the pieces hung on the walls, rippling with their programmed light and movement.
Take a posh gallery and stitch it with a rave. That’s kind of what it looked like in there.
“Guess I didn’t need to look so fancy,” Claire says in your ear. You two had spent the last half hour sorting your closets to figure out what was art-show appropriate.
“Let’s find Mimi,” you shout back.
You weave through the crowds, staying on the outskirts and spot her all the way up the front by the stage. You both agree to find her later and opt for a drink instead.
“Maybe I’ll get lucky tonight,” Claire comments as a tall guy brushes by, eyeing the length of her with a smirk before walking away. “Maybe you will.”
“That’d be nice,” you sigh. You hated being the chronically single one of your friends but that’s just how it went. Well it went beyond that—you felt unlucky in love.
Every relationship you poured yourself into and every relationship failed, just like that.
You were unloveable, maybe. You were lonely, definitely. So you’d take the warmth of a stranger where you could get it.
“I have an idea,” Claire says. “We dance our way through the crowd, I’ll be your wingwoman and we can make our way through towards Mimi. You’re so going home with someone tonight.”
You hold your glass up in agreement, you’d learned to just go with Claire’s ideas. Somehow they never worked in your favour, but that’s what you got for having a best friend that was a smokeshow. It used to bother you, but now in your late 20s after seeing Claire go through men like she went through shoes, it didn’t matter. The guys she went for also wanted a fun time like her. You wanted someone in it for the long run.
The men who felt the pull of her magnet were never meant for you anyway.
It felt mature, to think like that.
As Claire pulls you in, you find yourself dancing with male body after male body, hands on parts of you you barely touched yourself. You feel the familiar hollowness of loneliness. It was a constant companion, and yet never made you feel any less lonely.
Across the room stand two guys, they both watch Claire throw her head back and laugh. The purple and blue lights from above dance over her skin, she looked like a muse come to life. Like she was born from this art gallery.
“Mate. She’s beautiful,” Harry, the taller of the two, comments.
“You gonna talk to her?” Dylan asks. “Because if you’re not…”
“Give me a sec,” Harry got stupidly nervous around beautiful women. Which was stupid because he interacted with them on a daily basis, but that’s probably why he was considered a bit shy by people who met him. Shy was the nice way of saying awkward.
The thing with Harry is that he grew up as a wallflower. But in his mid 20s he started earning the attention of women. Pretty women. He felt like his pot of luck had been filled and then some, and yet he only got lucky on occasion. The problem was he just didn’t know what to do with his newfound attractiveness. Even 5 years on.
“There she goes,” Dylan comments as their muse moves to the bar. “Go on.”
Harry swears under his breath but makes his beeline towards her before anyone else could swoop in.
“Hiya,” Harry slides in beside her and then curses. He should have gone for something more suave. “Can I get you something-“
“I already ordered,” she smiles and Harry confirms she’s more beautiful than any of the crazy art in this room.
“Well it’s on me.”
“Thanks,” she takes him in. He tries not to squirm or think about what impression he was making. “I’m Claire.”
“Right. I’m Harry.”
“Nice to meet you Harry.”
“Likewise…So, erhm, you like dancing?”
She tilts her head, “I do. I was just down there.”
“I know.” Harry says. She raises a brow. Shite. “I mean like I saw you dancing. In the middle. You made it look like a fun time.”
“It is. Is dancing not fun for you?” She laughs. Her drink arrives and Harry pays for it orders for himself.
“I don’t do it a lot.” Harry taps his fingers on the bar. “I like the music part. That make you want to dance.”
She gives him that look. The look that told him he’d tipped the scales too far off to recover. Why couldn’t he just explain he made music? And dancing and making music went hand in hand. Why was that so hard to say??
“Well I’m going back in,” she announces. “Feel free to join.”
And of course he doesn’t. Because she would probably inch away from him if he did until the crowd swallowed her away.
“How’d it go? Make a good impression?” Dylan asks but Harry just downs half his drink and hopes that answers Dylan’s question. He’d made an impression alright.
Meanwhile, in the middle of the dancefloor you move to the heavy drums. This was one of your favourite songs by this group; it was on replay on your Spotify. The girl beside you grins at you and you both move in sync, shouting the lyrics. It’s more fun than you’d had with any guy here tonight.
When the band takes their break and a playlist replaces the live music, you try to find Claire. It’s surprising she doesn’t have a bloke already wrapped around her this late into the night.
“The line to the toilet is stupidly long,” she complains. “I don’t feel so good. Can we get air?”
“Of course,” you grip her arm and help her out. The night air is crisp compared to the recycled air inside. You take in a lungful.
“Hey,” Claire spots someone she knows and she moves towards them. You trail behind her as she walks up to two blokes smoking off to the side. “I never saw you dancing in there!”
The guy she’s talking to shrugs, his cheeks taking on a pinkish colour. He’s cute in a boyish way, but you reckon if he trimmed his hair and grew some scruff, he could be a lot more interesting to gaze at. A face that could hang in this art gallery, a soft pink light shimmering on the highs of his cheekbones.
His eyes clash with yours and you throw a friendly smile and make a conscious effort to join the group. You hadn’t heard what was said in the time you were admiring his face.
“I would if I hadn’t broken my foot a month ago,” the other guy says. He was a cold good-looking. Sharp features accentuated by a buzzcut. You could imagine him in an avant-garde spread of a magazine.
“Excuses!” Claire teases. She was good at this. “I was telling your friend here how fun dancing was, that he should join.”
“And he didn’t?! Harry, mate, we all know you dance.”
“Not the right setting.” He replies. Almost mumbles.
“Any setting is the right setting for dancing,” his friend says.
“Right!” Claire latches onto him, you knew her well enough she’d chosen her prey for tonight. “I feel like dancing is such a good release, any time music comes on my foot just-“
“Can’t hold it in right?” The other friend laughs. “Me too. When I’m on the tube I’m like how do I get into this without looking like a weirdo.”
Claire’s laugh crackles into the air. You smile, she was going home with him for sure.
You glance at Harry, he’s looking after her like a sad puppy. You’d seen that look too many times—dejected.
“I bet you wished you liked dancing more huh?” You tease, quiet so it doesn’t travel to the couple.
“Huh?” He looks at you like he just noticed you were standing beside him. “Oh. No?”
“Right.” Well this was awkward. “So you’re Harry. I’m y/n.”
“Oh sorry,” Claire says when she hears your name. “We’re so rude we just closed ourselves off to these two. This is y/n. and I just learned that this is Dylan.”
“Nice to meet you,” Dylan smiles at you. “Harry are you okay if we split?”
Claire looks at you, asking the same question with her eyes. You nod, and she smiles at you gratefully. Her eyes widen and she motions subtly with her head to Harry. You smile like it was a good idea but you know he wasn’t an option; he was one of Claire’s castaways. But she was too oblivious for that.
“Then there were two,” you joke, reaching for the familiar line. “Are you going back in?”
“In there?” He shakes his head. “We already said our goodbyes. I might just head home.”
“Oh okay. Did you know the artist?”
“I don’t. Dylan’s cousin is the lead singer in the band? We came by to support the show.”
“That’s nice.” You respond back even though he didn’t return the question. “I’ve worked with the artist actually—Jemima.”
“Cool. I take it you’re an artist yourself?” He asks, finally looking at you instead of around you.
“Yep. I do photography.”
A group of people exit the show and their noise drowns out whatever Harry was about to say. Without warning, like a valve opened, your chest fills with the ache of a feeling.
What am I doing here, you ask yourself. You’d come by to support Mimi, but you didn’t owe this guy anything. You should go home, do your usual routine of staring at the ceiling, hearing Claire come in late, try to drift to sleep, and then finally doing so.
Sometimes being with others felt more lonely than being alone.
“Anyway, it was nice meeting you Harry. I’m gonna head home.”
“Oh.” He seems surprised. “You’re leaving for home?”
“Well, yeah?” You shrug. “I’ve made my rounds, danced enough to need a gallon of water. My feet are telling me to go home.”
“You ladies talk about dancing and I feel like I missed out,” he laughs but it comes off kind of awkward and shy. It’s endearing.
You change your mind then—you imagine posing him at 3/4 angle and snapping him from below. Maybe a shot looking through his lashes. Something mysterious yet welcoming. The longer you got to know him, the more he shifted.
“Does that mean you want to go back in again?” You ask.
“Fuck it sure. If you come too. I don’t want to dance alone.”
“Why not? Have you never?”
“Danced alone?” He holds the door open for you and you go in. His energy seems to have shifted. He’s less awkward, more relaxed, but it still feels like you don’t have his full attention. Or maybe that was just your insecurities projected onto a beautiful man.
“I dare you,” you have to tip toe for him to hear you once you’re back in. You use both your hands on his back and guide/push him through the crowd. When you let go you open your arms wide.
He shakes his head and tries to grab your hands but you back away. “Dance!” You shout. “Let’s see.”
He laughs, his head weighing backwards like the ceiling could grant him some confidence, the length of his neck glistening with something you wanted to taste.
When he looks at you again you chant to dance and he shrugs away his shyness. Before you know it he’s moving until he’s actually in sync with the beat. You try not to be a creep, sneaking your phone out. He was a complete stranger but god the photo opportunity was perfect.
You manage two before he turns and finds you in the crowd again. He pulls you closer to him, nearly chest to chest.
“I should be a lot more drunk to be doing this.” He says in your ear. Goosebumps erupt down your arms.
Take it easy.
The two of you end up dancing for a few songs, laughing at new moves you put on. It becomes a contest to do a silly but serious move and you’re in stitches by the time the two of you stumble out.
“Jeez that was fun,” you lean against the brick fence a few buildings down. You were sweaty and out of breath, your body demanding hydration now.
“I have not done something like that in years. It was nice.” He grins. It feels like a secret. “Thank you for pushing me in.”
You felt like you should be thanking him, for the fun and for making you feel included tonight. But of course he ruins it when he opens his mouth next.
“You can tell your friend Claire I ended up dancing. It was a proper good time.”
“Yeah,” you fake a smile, the aching wound reawakening in your chest. “Maybe I will. I’m headed that way though, I’ll see you around Harry.”
His face falls for a moment, you can see him try to figure out asking you to stay but wondering why you’d gone so cold. You hated how a good looking man could fool you into thinking he could be smart. But this one was as daft as they came.
You wave and turn towards the direction of your station, feeling a bitter chill that wasn’t coming from the weather.
***
The next time you see Harry is about a month later. Claire had been seeing Dylan—they hadn’t labelled it according to her so it was still casual. But she felt good about it because he was having a thing at his flat and he’d invited her. So you join Claire since he’d extended the invitation.
“Maybe you’ll see his friend Harry.” She sings as you turn the corner to his street.
“I already told you nothing happened that night.”
“Maybe because you went home after having a marvellous dance-off with him!”
“He kinda got like soggy bread!” You complain. “If it weren’t for me the conversation would have gone stale.”
“Same here. When he spoke to me I mean,” Claire laughs. “Dylan did say he’s a bit shy. Just give him another chance.”
“He’s not interested-“
“You’re so harsh on yourself. Of course he would be! He’d be lucky to be with you…”
You let Claire launch into her tirade. Although you appreciated it, it ignored the fact that someone could just not be interested in you. Especially after fancying your friend first.
Dylan’s flat ends up being nicer than you thought, a lot of windows and fancy tech things around.
“Just call her,” you and Claire walk up to Dylan, Harry, and another guy. Dylan seems to be lecturing Harry on something.
“Call who?” Claire asks.
“Hey,” Dylan kisses her hello. “This girl Harry went to uni with. He bumped into her when she was walking her dog. Harry thinks they hit it off, but he refuses to call her!”
“Why not?!” You and Claire ask. Further proof he wasn’t into you.
“Well I friended her on Instagram and she’s just ignored it!” Harry explains.
“So? Maybe she doesn’t use instagram.” Claire offers.
“She does. I had Dylan request too and she accepted his.”
“Oh?” You notice the pitch change in Claire but nobody else does of course.
“I unfollowed her after,” Dylan says. Or maybe he did hear the change. Smart man.
The friends gathered in the room shift and flow around each other, you lose Claire pretty quickly after the hour mark like you usually did. Eventually it’s you and Harry again, sitting on the couch.
Just like soggy bread, he’s mostly silent with beer in his hand. You get tired of the silence so eventually you slide closer to him.
“So what’s with the girl from uni? Do you have history?”
“Huh?” He seems startled out of his thoughts. “Oh. Her. No we had a few classes, saw her at parties that sort of thing.”
“But it seemed promising when you saw her recently?”
“I think so?”
Poor Harry, he couldn’t even tell the difference.
“What about her number? Or try DM-ing her.”
“I don’t wanna be desperate.”
“Fine,” you think. “Nevermind. She’s probably not into you.”
“But she kept touching my arm,” Harry recalls. “Why would she touch me if she wasn’t interested?”
You look at his physique. It wasn’t anything extraordinary but you can see the temptation to touch his arms.
Meanwhile Harry watches you eye him. It was kind of funny to him. He didn’t know why Claire’s best friend always remained at the end of the night but she was easy to talk to so he didn’t mind. Better than pretending to be interested in whatever Dylan’s tech-bros were talking about.
He hadn’t actually seen Dylan in a while. Probably off with Claire, he thinks with a sigh.
“Yeah nevermind.” Harry hears you say. It’s then he realized he’d tuned you out while his brain had been running. And you had taken his sigh as a response to what you were explaining.
The conversation falls flat after that. And when Harry goes for another drink you decline, deciding it was time to head home.
Surprisingly, Harry says he could use the time away and walks you to the station. Claire was spending the night but mostly he just wanted out of the flat. Walking you a few blocks away was a good enough excuse.
***
A few weeks go by before you find yourself alone with Harry again. It was someone’s birthday, or two people’s. You forgot what exactly was the excuse you took to get out of the house. All you had to know was there were people and an open bar.
Again, you started off in a group but couples drifted away until the two of you remained. You had been standing in Harry’s blind spot so when the last couple leaves, he notices it was you.
“Hey.” Harry says to you but his eyes look out into the room, even his body faces the crowd’s direction. He should have known you were here after seeing Claire cozy up with Dylan.
It should make you feel shittier but you’re almost used to it. After a week of working from home hunched over your table editing photos for yesterday’s deadline you would take any social interaction. No matter how stale. Or soggy.
“Hey!” You elbow him so he looks at you at least. “It's been a while hasn’t it? How’s life treating you these days?”
“Yeah, it's fine.”
“Cool, yeah. Any exciting projects keeping you busy lately or…?”
“Not really. Just the usual keeping me busy right now. Same old routine y’know.”
“Right, right.” You could feel him slip away again. “Yeah. Work can be a drag. I’m pretty sure I gave myself scoliosis being hunched over for 10 hours a day this week. I’d rather fold laundry than do that again, and you probably don’t know this, but I absolute hate folding laundry. But yeah that’s my thrilling life. Anything you've been doing in your free time?”
“Nah. Just trying to stay on top of work.”
“Right.” He was the busiest man on earth apparently. “So everyone at the party’s talking about the new Love Island season. You watch it?”
“Not really into TV these days. Busy with work and all that?”
“Right. You mentioned. I did too.” You nod. “I had a lot of deadlines this week so very busy too. Busy busy. I actually got so stir-crazy I started talking to my plants? It felt silly, but my nan was saying it does help them grow so…it’s a win-win. Or maybe it’s the isolation makes you appreciate the little things…”
“Right.” Harry nods along. He’s looked at you twice this whole time. Well, glanced was more like it. And suddenly you want to scream because it was utterly unfair that you only knew him at any of these godforsaken parties. And he never wanted to talk to you, or cared to.
You’d seen him with Dylan, even with Claire! He was more animated and interested then, even though he stammered through half of it. Was there something wrong with you that put you in gray-scale in this crowd of colourful people?
You’re not Claire, the stupid voice in your head reminds you.
I didn’t need to be Claire, you remind yourself.
“So what about that girl you fancied?” You try to ask him something he might be interested in; you hated how desperate you were getting for company. “From uni? Anything come of that?”
“What?” He finally looks at you. “Oh her. No she uhm. Well embarrassing but she has a bloke. I misread the whole thing-“
“You said she was all touchy!”
“Yeah she was wasn’t she?” He scratches his head. “I dunno, i suppose she’s always been like that. So yeah, nothing happened there.”
He chuckles like he’s embarrassed, yet the smile brightens his face. It makes you a little more upset and you don’t know why.
“Maybe you dodged a bullet. Anyway. I’m gonna make some rounds. I’ll catch you around-“
“What?” He actually turns to you now. “Why?”
“What?!”
“Why you leaving?”
“I’m not leaving. I’m just doing a circle. And getting another drink.”
“Oh,” his shoulders drop a little. You’re confused, because he didn’t seem interested in having you around at all until you were leaving. “Good.”
“I didn’t think you’d miss me if I was gone with your half-ass answers.” You say before you can think. He looks a little stupefied.
“Half-ass?”
“Or were you just being a whole ass?”
“Huh?” He closes the gap between you again. “I was listening to what you were talking about.”
“Yeah. Just listening. It felt like having a conversation with paint while it dried.”
“I’d think that’s better than houseplants?”
You’re a bit stunned—he had been listening. But still. He wasn’t keeping up conversation.
“Now see if you made a joke about it back then it would have been funny. A back-and-forth conversation? Now it’s just a desperate attempt to keep me around. I don’t know what for.”
“It’s not desperate,” he argues. “I didn’t realize you’re so needy.”
You raise a brow, “I am not needy.”
“I think you are,” he grins and with his full attention on you and that stupidly smarmy grin you feel that pull again. Too bad it was just one-sided.
“I’m not. I’ll prove it by leaving your presence for good tonight. See you next time Harry.”
“Don’t be like that,” he calls after you. “And I like to keep you around because I thought we were friends!”
Your stride falters as you’re walking away. You weren’t expecting him to say that.
But wasn’t he just friends because both your friends were dating each other?
What are you even doing here with these people, the thought comes back to you again. The same one that always floated through your mind being in these sorts of places.
If Claire wasn’t dating Dylan you wouldn’t even be here. God, you needed to hang out with friends other than Claire.
***
You unwrap the belt that ties your coat closed and drop it all to the floor. Well not all, your cameras get let down gently.
Your shoulders ached. And your back and your head and your arms. Jeez.
You had a wedding gig that was paying most of this month’s rent, so you had to take it. The only thing is your job started at 6am and ended at 8pm. That was more than half a day and you were spent.
“Hey you’re home!” Claire waves at you as you pass her. She has her phone held out in front of her face, you hear Dylan’s voice on the other end.
“Is that yn? Hii!”
“Hi,” you croak to Dylan. Claire juts her lip out at the sight of you.
“I’ve already done dinner,” she says over the top of the screen. “I’m going out with Dylan and some friends later you wanna come?”
You shake your head. She knows what a low battery yn looked like.
“Okay fine. Leftovers are in the fridge for you.”
“God I love you,” you tell her as you close your bedroom door behind you and collapse into bed.
You liked it when Claire was happy in a relationship, or whatever she called them, but when she wasn’t these were the nights she’d follow you into your room after a big shoot and ask about the details. And you’d complain about the pushy customers eventually moving to how beautiful everything was. She was usually the first person to see your raw images.
But tonight while she talks to Dylan you turn on your humidifier and let the low hushing noise lull you into a relaxing trance. You remember that you only had yourself. That you had to learn to be happy with that, lonely or not.
***
Claire promised to do kitchen duty for the whole week if you came out to Jemima’s partner’s gig. And you couldn’t deny a week of no dishes or meal prep, so you drag your ass out the door despite riding on 4 hours of sleep for the last few nights. But you met your deadline this afternoon so this was as good of a celebration as any. Even if it was a Thursday night.
“So you and Dylan are getting serious huh?” You ask Claire on the tube over.
“Kinda?”
“It’s been over 3 months. Half the time you were with you know who.”
You-know-who, her one relationship that actually meant something to her. Crashed and burned two years ago.
“No,” she blushes. “It’s just, he’s pretty great but we don’t really talk about labels.”
“Maybe you should.”
“Guys always run when you do.”
Do you want that sort of guy, you want to ask. Instead you shrug, “let them.”
She rolls her eyes, accustomed to your biting remarks around men.
The gig is electrifying as soon as you arrive. It gets you moving and your sedentary body remembers it has more flex in it than just your wrist. You’re alive and sweaty a few hours later, happy that you went.
“Hey,” Claire says when you drift back to her. “Dylan said the drummer’s inviting some friends to the place she’s staying at. Wanna come?”
“Yeah! Let’s go!” You were high on just being out and around people, the loneliness had been kept at bay, and you didn’t want to ruin that by going home just yet.
The drummer’s place is the bottom floor of a quaint house near Portobello. Most people are already there by the time you trail in behind Claire and Dylan.
“Look there’s Harry!” Claire shouts, pointing to the figure that was become too familiar to you. He’s listening intently to the couple in front of him. Nice to know he could do that.
You flash her a thumbs up. But her and Dylan start walking towards them. Ugh!
You eye the room, thinking you could make a run-in with alcohol instead of Harry but he looks up at the approaching couple and catches your eye. He waves.
Whatever.
The four of you eventually find a quieter room, mostly because there was a hookah circle going on and everyone there was talking in hushed voices. A stark contrast to the volume in the den.
“Hey, I wasn’t expecting you here.” Harry says when the two of you find yourselves alone again.
“Why not?”
“You didn’t show the last couple times we all hung out. I thought you were tired of us.”
“Maybe I am.” You raise your brow. “Did you miss me?”
“Hey!” Dylan appears in front of you two again before he could answer. “Nish is here, I heard.”
“Nish?” Harry becomes all fidgety.
“Who’s Nish?” You have to ask.
“Someone we know,” Dylan says. You look for Claire and she’s making her way to you. But before she gets there another body steps towards your group.
“Hi! Harry look at you—and Dylan, is it just me or you look more hideous than last time?” The girl cuts in and you take a step back instinctively. The group felt overcrowded.
You watch the two boys hug the new girl, Nish you assume, in greeting.
Claire approaches the group with curiosity.
Introductions are made and Dylan offers to show Nish the drinks.
Then there were three.
“She’s pretty,” you comment. You know Harry agrees what with how much he resembled a ruler.
“Yeah,” he nods stiffly.
“So were you at the gig Harry?” Claire changes the subject. “It was amazing.”
“Yeah! I was there with Dylan and some friends. Surprised I didn’t see you two.”
“Were you dancing?” Claire teases.
“I was,” he blushes. He glances at you. You recall that first night when the two of you had a lot of fun just dancing. “Maybe that’s why I missed you guys.”
You give a small smile at the in-joke. He looks back to Claire.
You all talk about the gig, and then a little about someone similar Harry was working with.
Eventually Claire wonders aloud where Dylan had gotten to and leaves.
And then there were two.
“I get this feeling something’s going to happen,” you say.
“What do you mean?” Harry asks.
You shrug, you didn’t quite know. The whole night was moving so fast, especially after the gig. You just had a sense you missed something and it was bothering you.
“Have you got a drink yet?” Harry asks.
“No, maybe I should.”
“Me too. I’m done mine. I think I want another.”
As you walk down the hall to where it might logically be, you hear a shout. Your stomach drops. Was this it?
“I’m sorry wait!” Someone shouts over the noise. The overall noise dies down a bit quieter. “It’s not what it-“
“Fuck off! I’m done!”
“Shite,” you recognized Claire’s voice anywhere. You rush past Harry and towards the voices.
You find Dylan shirtless and holding it against his chest. Nish is a little ways behind him, hair a lot messier than when you last saw her. Buttons undone on her dress.
You notice the lipstick on Dylan’s neck. A colour Claire would never wear.
Everything snaps into place.
You rush to Claire and try to comfort her but she hurls more insults towards Dylan over your shoulder. You manage to get her out of his sight and she fights you too, she was seething with anger.
“He’s a dick!” She screams. “Why did I think he was going to be any different oh my god! I shouldn’t have let him go alone with her, what was I thinking? Yn! Why didn’t you stop me!”
You knew it was all rhetorical. Claire rarely took romantic advice from you.
“He tried to say we weren’t even a couple I-“ her voice catches and then comes the tears. You pull her in, familiar with the routine. Next would be feeling sorry for herself, then the anger again, then telling you she needed to be alone. Then a few hours would pass before she crawled back to needing comfort again.
And it happens just so.
“I don’t need a mother right now!” Claire says as you convince her to stay with you. To head home. “I just need to clear my head! I’m sorry okay I just want to be alone!”
And you let her go.
And now you had to kill time.
You find a beer and down it. Someone nearby asks you what the drama was about and you strike up a conversation that ends in them trying to kiss you. Ew.
You wander until you find Harry again. He’s surprised you’re still here. Asks where Claire was but as you respond one of the girls from the band recognizes Harry—you’re pretty sure her name is Kate. Soon enough you’re sidelined while they talk about something you knew nothing about.
Well fuck him too, you think miserably.
You grab one of the few remaining cans and head to the back of the house. Past open doors and closed doors. The closed door intrigues you at the end of the hall.
The doorknob is stuck so you wiggle it. Probably locked.
You were tired. God, you were tired of it all.
In a moment of anger you bang your shoulder against the door and magically it opens.
It wasn’t locked, just stuck due to age.
Same, you think.
Inside is the smallest room you’ve ever seen. The size of 1.5 closets. There looks like a childs bed, the walls are covered in posters, and there’s a small set of drawers with a guitar resting on top. It’s cramped but cozy, something about it feels familiar.
You step inside and close the door.
Down goes another beer.
You hope the person who owned the room didn’t mind you crashing it. You lay in bed and let out a big sigh. And then another. It felt good. Cleansing.
You listen to the noises outside, people laughing and talking. You think about Claire. About yourself. All of your several issues combined. The dull ache of loneliness starts in your ribcage and spreads out.
The door handle rattles a few times but eventually you realize nobody’s angry enough to smash it open like you. Most people assumed it’s locked and leave.
You’re taken by surprise then the door does creak open a smidge.
Distant light travels through to paint a multi-coloured line across the floor and over the bed. You lift your fingers to touch it but it feels like everything else.
“Of course you’re in here; I wondered where you went to.” Harry reveals his face by opening the door wider, poking his head in. It looks like it’s floating and the image almost makes you laugh. Almost.
“Why?” You ask in your most disinterested voice.
He takes the question, despite it dripping with apathy, as an invitation. The door remains opened a crack, now just with Harry on the inside.
“Because you disappeared.”
“You started talking to Kate so I made my exit. Did she go home?”
“No.” He inches closer after closing the door. You have no idea how he knew exactly where you were and how to get in. With the door closed it’s not so dark that you can’t make out his figure. But he’s a shadow in the dark.
“Can you sit or something? It’s kind of creepy having you hover like that in the dark.”
“Sorry,” he laughs and again, he overextends the invitation and lays parallel to you. He’s close, with the bed being so small. Your ache spreads. “Kate’s dancing with another bloke.”
“Poor Harry.” You mock. “Every pretty lady wants to dance with someone else.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I have this special ability to read between the lines.”
“Well my specialty is reading between the sheets.”
The comment lands like a third person on the bed. It’s a withering creature a cross between a baby and a calf. He scoops it off with, “sorry. I really don’t know where that came from.”
You laugh. It was so silly for something so bold to come out of his mouth.
“It’s fine. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you be that bold before. Usually I just watch you fumble around and finish up thoughts inside your head instead of out loud-“
“I do do that don’t I?”
“You said do do,” you giggle.
“Very mature.”
“Very manure.” Your giggles turn into a laugh, something’s cracked inside of you and it feels funnier than it probably is.
Harry nudges you with his elbow and it silences your laugh. It’s abrupt, and he notices. “Why’d you come in here anyway?” He asks. “I thought you’d be with Claire.”
“Were you looking for her? You could be with Claire now y’know,” you say. Some part of you knew you’re tipsy and you should shut up but in the darkness your cutting words feel blunted.
“What’s that mean?”
“Dylan the dick—that’s his new nickname just fyi. He fumbled the bag. She’s free for the taking now.”
“I feel like this violates some sort of girl-code. Shouldn’t you be warning me away?”
You scoff, “Harry don’t be coy. Everyone knows you tried to get together that first night we all met. You always look at her like a lost puppy.”
“I don’t.”
“Do so.”
“What’s it to you?“
You shrug. He’s close enough to feel it.
You were upset tonight. Angry. Angry at Dylan for being another a-hole. Angry at Claire for putting yet another man on a pedestal with all his potential he could never reach. They hadn’t labelled themselves for 3 months, what did she expect would happen?
Mostly you were upset at yourself. Because a part of you watched Claire put herself out there over and over, and you were upset that you couldn’t do the same. That your shallow bruises compares to Claire’s gashes had kept you locked up in your bedroom.
You admit it to yourself then: you kind of liked Harry. And you totally and absolutely hated it.
Because you watched him watch Claire, fumble his words with every woman you catch him with, push him away just so you don’t potentially get hurt. A part of you knows he wouldn’t like you like that. He treats you like you’re part of the furniture half the time. He’s given no indication of the sort. And you just weren’t the kind of girl to leave a confession like that hanging. You didn’t want a public unrequited crush.
It comes again. The wave of loneliness, the feeling that nobody ever has or ever will understand you. That you were an island with no dock, a house with no door. You were unknowable, and unforgettable.
“Why don’t I ever hear about your relationship exploits?” Harry suddenly asks. You forgot he was there and you startle. “Sorry were you falling asleep?”
“No.” You answer. “And because…because I’m not showy about that sort of thing. And it also doesn’t happen as often as you or Claire or Dylan the dick.”
“Wow the name’s really gonna stay.”
“Mhm.”
“Do you have a boyfriend now?”
“Nope.”
“What’s your last actual relationship?”
“A long time ago.”
“Me too.” He sighs. “My last proper girlfriend was in my early 20s. She moved city. We broke up after that, long-distance is hard. I feel like every year I age, I get worse at talking to women.”
“I can confirm.”
“Well not you. You’re easy to talk to.”
“Thanks,” you say dryly.
“Not like that.” He backtracks, sitting up as if you could see his face. “No not like that. You’re…nice. To look at. I don’t mean that I don’t see you as a women—because you are. I see that I uhm-“
“I think you’ll have to take back your previous statement.”
His head falls back on his pillow and he laughs, it sounds like he’s choking on air a little.
“Jeez, what was that?” He asks once he pulls himself together.
“Beats me,” you say with a smirk.
“It gets pretty lonely though right.”
You let his statement sit in the dark. You don’t agree or disagree. Doing so felt like admitting something vulnerable.
“Or maybe that’s just me.” He says after a while. “Maybe you have a great life and don’t fall in love with every other person you meet.”
“Do you actually?” Your interest was piqued.
“I can’t help it. I’m a musician, I just notice something small about them and suddenly a song is being written about them in my head without even realizing. So I just fall in love with a lot of random people. And I uhm, I don’t think I’ve ever admitted that to anyone!”
It was the dark. It was easier to be honest in it. No wonder churches kept their confessions in darkened corners.
You think about all the regular people you fall in love with every time you lift your camera to your face. How every person made you ache; there were whole worlds going on inside of them and you saw it all through the lens.
You wonder briefly if Harry ever wrote a song about you in his head but squash it. He barely took the time to look at you, definitely not long enough to notice you like you did him.
“Here’s my confession—same.” You try for the confession-in-the-dark thing. To make him feel better. “At least when I’m taking photos or making videos. Some people get camera shy but after talking to them they loosen up and getting to capture their whole essence in a picture or a video I just…makes me fall in love too. I like to imagine what everyone would be like in front of a camera. I dunno.”
“What a pair we make.” Harry reaches out and his hand brushes yours. You pull away, hating yourself while you do.
He clears his throat when you reject his bid to be closer, you feel his hand slide back to himself.
Harry didn’t know why sometimes it felt like you hated him and other times like you were friends. He just figured he didn’t understand women. On any spectrum.
“Y/n,” your name is loaded in the dark. You wait for him to continue but the silence stretches out.
“What?” You finally ask.
You feel the bed shift and move under you. He was turning. You feel his gaze on you. You turn your head to look back and he’s inches away. Alarms blare in your head, abort abort! But even in the darkness his eyes find some light to reflect.
Harry’s thinking the same thing about you. Somehow it’s dark but when you turn your head to look at him, your eyes twinkle with what little moonlight streams in from the window. Or maybe that was the streetlights. Either way, Harry wonders why it felt like this was the first time he’s ever seen you. How ironic that it’s in the dark too.
It happens without realizing, his mind starts to string together something about the girl laying in his bed shrouded in darkness, with light in her eyes. A girl with secrets-
The bed vibrates.
“Oh,” you turn away and take the intimate moment with you. You feel around and find your phone beside you. Claire’s face lights up the screen.
“Claire,” you sit up.
“I’m ready to go home,” Claire sniffles on the other end. “Where are you?”
“At the party. You’re still at the party right?”
“I’m just outside. I got some chips but I couldn’t find you so I finished them all.”
You laugh, “Lie. I know how you feel about sharing chips don’t worry.”
Harry watches you have this conversation. Your laugh finds its way right into his chest. He feels warm.
You look at him and hold your finger up, shimming off the foot of the bed.
“You bought two!?” You ask after Claire sniffles about how much she emotionally ate tonight.
“It’s your fault! I ate two because I couldn’t find you and they were getting cold.”
“Well I’m coming outside to save you now.”
You put the phone down and look back at Harry. He’s sat up in the bed and staring at you.
“I gotta go weirdo.”
“Yeah,” he says.
“Well…I dunno if we’ll see each other as much now that-“
“Yeah,” he agrees.
“So good luck? Until next time?” You laugh, but an awkwardness starts to creep in as Harry stays unresponsive and staring on the bed. “Uhm. Okay?? Bye…”
You leave Harry as he is. Did he get all weird because Claire was on the phone? Ugh. What a liar, you think. He was still just as obsessed with her.
You feel a little bad for goading him about it earlier but it doesn’t linger long. When you see Claire you gather her up in your arms and then the two of you set off arm-in-arm back to your small flat together.
***
“So what’s happening with Kate?” Dylan asks. Harry and him are sat at the pub a few weeks later, he’s already moved on from Claire to the girl on his arm. He didn’t know how his friend did it, if Harry had a girl like Claire he wouldn’t treat her like she was disposable.
But thinking of Claire didn’t have that same spark anymore. When he thought about it, she was beautiful and spirited, the kind of woman musicians like him write songs about. But there was someone else on his mind, the kind of woman someone could spend their whole career trying to compartmentalize into songs. Songs turning into albums. Only to find nothing beats her living spirit.
How could he be so dumb, he’d been beating himself up since that night in the dark. He’d had 3 months of being around her and he never actually looked at her. Always took her for granted. God, even that first night together had been the most fun Harry had had in ages. But he’d just turned her into a friend by proximity.
But weeks gone without her, knowing there was only pure chance of bumping into her, had made Harry a regretful heart.
“Hello? Did you scare her off?” Dylan asks.
“Nah. She’s not my type.” Harry responds.
“Harry I should set you up with one of my mates. She’d be perfect for you. She’s a teacher and…”
Harry listens to Dylan’s new girl describe a friend Harry couldn’t be arsed to go out with. All because he wanted something he couldn’t have anymore.
***
Harry runs into Claire at a pub a week later. His hopes soar as high as the sky when he thinks y/n might be here.
“Hi! Claire!” Harry awkwardly stops her as she walks past the bar where he sits. He was waiting for a few of his mates to watch the football match with. Dylan was luckily out of town today, otherwise this pub would have it’s roof blown off.
“Oh Harry hi,” she’s friendly. Harry didn’t think she’d be friendly towards him. She leans in for a hug. “How’ve you been?”
“Good! Ehm good yeah just making more music and stuff. You?”
“Better,” she rolls her eyes. “How’s Dylan the-“
“I’d rather not be in the middle. If that’s alright.” Harry says before he can think. He knew what his friend was, he didn’t want to talk about him.
“Fine.” She crosses her arms. “Yeah. I’m good.”
“Watching the game?”
“Sorta. My family’s down and I know y/n hates the ruckus my brothers make watching the game at home so I’m sticking them here.”
“Oh y/n’s not here?” Harry feels his hope evaporating.
“No. What’s the deal with you and her anyway? Why didn’t you ever…?”
“Y/n?”
“Yeah!”
“She’s not interested in me,” Harry laughs. He was also blind but he doesn’t say that.
“I mean, maybe not crazily but if you asked she would have said yes. She didn’t hate you.”
“Is that the standard now?” Harry jokes.
“It is with her,” she smiles with a look in her eye like there was more there. But of course, Harry doesn’t push.
“I…I dunno. I never thought she would be interested. It never occurred to me.”
“You’re such a guy,” she scolds. “You have anyone now or you’re still regularly putting your foot in your mouth?”
Harry flushes. “I don’t. And I don’t put my foot in my mouth.”
She rolls her eyes but the smile stays on her face. “Anyway, I’m grabbing the beers. I’ll talk to you later?”
Harry nods, suddenly unable to just ask for y/n’s number. Anything.
But as she walks away he realizes he’d had a whole conversation with Claire without overthinking or being a fumbling idiot once.
He thinks back, to the last couple weeks. He realizes it’s been a while since he’s done it.
Was I finally turning a corner, Harry thinks.
***
You had a gig today filming at a studio. Some indie duo but they were gaining popularity on Tiktok and wanted some bts footage of working in the studio for an upcoming music video. You weren’t going to ask questions. It paid decent money so you said yes.
You pull into the parking lot, grateful that Claire had a car you could borrow. It helped lugging around your equipment for videoshoots. Today it was just you as your PA was out sick. It wasn’t supposed to be a lot of angles so you figured it would be okay.
You consider the day a win by the time you pack up. The group were much younger than you but very outgoing and it made for a lot of funny and sweet footage. They also had amazing voices, you told them they were going on your playlists once you got home.
Your right hand goes weightless as you walk with your bags down the hall. You turn just as the helper speaks up.
“Looked like you could use a hand.”
“Harry I…what a surprise hi!” Your mood brightens at the sight of him, despite everything.
“Hi,” he shifts the bag in his hand to return your hug. His body is solid and warm. It made no sense but you missed something about him. “How was your shoot?”
“Really good! I was shooting a…wait how did you know?”
“I saw you in there?”
“I didn’t see you.”
“Yeah I um-“
“You had nothing to do with this right?”
“And if I did?” He meets your eye and you feel out of breath with whatever speaks through them. What was up with that?
“Uhmm I owe you a thank you!?!”
Harry offers a small smile, “I was looking at your work a couple weeks back. You’re really good. I just threw your name out to a few managers if they were looking for someone…”
Harry looks different with this new information. Or maybe this was a Harry that was actually paying attention to you, it was both intimidating and touching.
“Did I do something wrong?” He asks.
“No! No, thank you I…that’s…I’m grateful. Thank you. Can I get you a drink to say thanks?”
“Okay cuz your face was all scrunched up. I thought you were pissed.” He laughs. “And I have some things to finish up-“
“Oh right, you’re probably busy-“
“No no I would love to. Get drinks. With you.” Harry grows more awkward as the air between you crackles with something electric. Maybe, he thought, this is what happens when two people are on the same wavelength.
“Ok. Well when do you finish?”
Harry doesn’t quite hear your question. His head feels flooded with sand and he can’t stop looking at you, right in front of him finally. Why did he never notice your eyes and the way they take him in, your sweetness, the easygoing tilt of your head, or how how disarming your smile was. He chalked it up to being an idiot.
“Wait what-“ he laughs, feeling the blood flush his face. He was doing that thing again, where his brain stopped thinking in the attention of a pretty girl. “What’d you ask?”
“When you finish?” You ask, suddenly feeling shy yourself. You can feel the element of nervousness from him and it made this casual moment feel more intense.
“Maybe half hour?” Harry scratches his nose. “Are you heading somewhere now? You can hang out with me and we can go together?”
You thought about getting to see him work, it sounded promising. “Sure!”
Harry wipes his palm on his jeans and walks ahead, leading you down the hall and to the right. He opens it to a recording studio, gesturing to the chairs and taking the seat behind all the buttons. You set your things down and stand by the panel, curious what each of the controls did.
Harry glances up at you and you shoot a smile, about to ask if it was okay you watch, but he goes back to work just as quickly.
He was working on something that sounded like a pop song. You try to make out all the layers on the software he was using, it kind of looked the same when you edited a video. But there’s too many layers to distinguish.
Eventually you sit back down, admiring Harry in his element. Your mind drifts, and you wonder if everything that happened out in the hallway was a figment of your imagination or Harry was being weird with you. Because the thing about Harry being weird meant he was in his head about one thing.
You wonder, like you did every so often, what could have happened that night in the dark the last time you saw him if Claire hadn’t called. Harry had looked at you like he had just met you—with a good curiosity.
But then again, this was the same Harry that probably looked at Claire with the same look.
“Done.” Harry turns in his swivel chair with a grin an hour or so later.
“Great!” You shake off your thoughts and set your laptop down.
“Did you want to leave your things here?”
“I have a car I can put them in?”
“The place I was gonna take you to isn’t that far from here.”
So you agree, and leave your equipment in the studio. The two of you walk out, talking about what he was working on. He asks you about your shoot today and the conversation carries you to the pub he had picked out.
Conversation starts to fizzle out as you tuck into your booth seat.
“What you guys getting today?” The waitress appears almost instantly, it startles you.
You look at the menu and to her. She’s got a beautiful face, round cheeks framed by micro bangs and night-black eyebrows that made her look permanently unimpressed. And yet her rosy cheeks and button nose were a friendly addition to the severity of the rest of her.
You glance at Harry, ready for him to be a bumbling idiot around her. He glances at you from the menu when he senses you looking over and for a second you feel the loneliness creep in. Despite the warm smile he sends your way.
“Can we get a few more minutes?” Harry asks her. She pockets her things without another word and walks away.
“What’s good here?” You ask to fill the silence.
The two of you go over the menu and by the time the waitress returns you’re ready. You watch Harry ask her questions and place the order, confident and direct. His eyes slide to yours every so often and each time they do you feel your resolve slip a little more.
“What’s changed then Harry?” You tease when she leaves. You tease, but you seriously want to know. “I thought you’d be a puddle of words around a woman that gorgeous.”
“Her?” Harry glances back. “I guess. I’m not such a mess.”
“Oh you so are.” You laugh. “You’re all ums and uhs.”
“I’m…fine. I’m not so bad anymore!”
“Yeah so? What happened?”
He looks at you with such a serious look that your smile dies down.
“Drinks,” the waitress places them down on the table, saving the both of you from whatever would have come next.
“Thanks,” you tell her and pull the distraction towards you.
“Let’s just say,” Harry says after she leaves. “I gained some perspective.”
You raise an eyebrow, not wanting to push it any more. “Okay.”
For the first time in a while, your nerves overtake the anxious discomfort you usually lived with. Something was definitely happening here—you weren’t hallucinating. But you weren’t sure where it was going, and if you wanted it.
Of course you want it, stop convincing yourself otherwise, you tell yourself.
Why did vulnerability feel like facing mount everest in just your pjs.
“I bumped into Claire a few weeks ago, she seems to be doing well.” Harry says and you can’t help but overanalyze for a heartbeat. He’d brought Claire up after all.
“Oh she didn’t mention,” you reply.
“She was with her family? Said you kicked them out of the flat-“
“Oh!” You laugh. “Yeah her brothers get stupidly rowdy when the football’s on. This one time I had an interview early the next morning and—this was before I knew how loud they could get. And I was up. Until 2am nearly to tears! Finally I snapped, they call it the y/n-geddon. Then of course I felt so bad I couldn’t sleep for another two hours. Now we just draw boundaries.”
Harry laughs at your story. “Sounds scary. Now it makes sense though.”
“Better for everyone,” you laugh. “But yeah. Claire’s been good, it was nice her family was down she’s always more herself when they do.”
Your food arrives and you put the conversation on pause as you tuck in.
“How about you?” Harry asks. “Your family?”
You tell him about your family and the conversation moves on to moving out, living in the city. It branches out naturally like a tree, and both of you relax into each other’s company.
It was really nice, you admit to yourself. It felt like talking to an actual person rather than the shell of someone. Which is how it felt like talking to Harry in the past. The only soggy bread was the butty dipped in your soup.
You pay, as you insist it was to thank him for the help. It’s cooler out when you had back to the studio for your things and there’s more people out; those free of their office jobs and roaming for a drink to relax into.
The studio’s empty and you head towards your bags, asking Harry if he was heading home too.
“Yeah, I’ve been here since 6 so I think I’m ready to go home.”
“Shite that’s early!”
“Deadlines!” He sighs. “What can ya do.”
“Can I give you a ride somewhere at least?”
“If you’re going in the direction of the station I’ll hop in.”
“Yeah sure!”
“Good thing you have a car with all that equipment.”
“Yeah my thoughts this morning. But that reminds me of all the footage I have to edit.” You say. “Thanks to you.”
“Anytime. Anytime y/n. I’m gonna keep whispering your name around. You’ll be fully booked soon just watch and see.”
“You don’t have to,” you set your things back on the ground. It didn’t seem like Harry was in a hurry to get out.
“I want to,” he replies seriously. The room feels smaller than it did seconds ago, or maybe the awareness of Harry’s proximity tightened the space between you.
“Thanks,” you try to meet his eye as you say it but it’s hard to. His gaze strips away any doubt you had; his feelings are written all over his face. All you could think was: Holy Fuck what is this
“It’s my pleasure,” he says which just sucks any remaining oxygen out of the room.
When you’re on autopilot you don’t even think, you just go through the motions. That’s what it felt like, one second you’re standing opposite Harry. The next you’re standing right in front of him and his lips are on yours.
Maybe you just imagined this scene so much it became repetitive and now this—kissing him, felt so familiar.
He’s nothing like the timid and awkward Harry you watch at parties and pubs. He’s sure of himself, kissing you in the exact way to soothe your past aches; your loneliness is washed away like ocean tides over words etched in the sand. You get lost in it. In him.
You don’t know when his hands slide around your waist and pull you in. His lips are soft and gentle. Your mind blanks as the sensation of being held, of his touch, spreads. You don’t realize you stop kissing back, just for a second, until he pulls away.
Harry takes a deep breath, face pink and brows furrowed. This felt right, but was he reading it wrong? He did that often.
You take a small step back, needing the space to process. It felt right, better than your imagination, and you couldn’t deny the pull you felt to him.
“So um,” you bite your lip. “You still want that ride?”
“Where is it going?” He asks, the tightness in his chest easing a little when you look up at him, head tilted and a nervous expression on. He wasn’t reading it wrong. Both of you were just a little overwhelmed.
“Anywhere you want it to. I was thinking it could go home.”
“Mmm,” he nods. “Home sounds nice.”
With a smile exchanged, he lifts most of your equipment to the car. You have to take a beat outside the car just to force your brain to go from scrambled to whole so you can manage the drive home. It took every ounce of concentration.
Claire’s not home when you get there and you’re so grateful for that. Firstly, you just wanted to get him back into your bedroom. Secondly, you wanted this just between the two of you. At least for today.
You drop her a text in case, like you two usually did. You tell her you had company over.
The rest of the night can be spent uninterrupted.
You set everything in the living room and take Harry back to your bedroom.
He looks around curiously, taking in the photos on the walls and the things on the dresser.
You watch him, feeling a little exposed. he was looking. Seeing. You. It was different. Good different.
Harry looks at you with a question and you answer by closing the space between you; he reaches his arms out and your body is engulfed by him. Your lips meet, this time less hesitant.
It’s not long before Harry pulls you towards the bed, falling backwards with you on top of him. You straddle his hips and kiss him like a teenager. You feel his fingers brush your waist and tug at the bottom of your top.
It’s off in an instant and you try to hide the smile as Harry takes in the sight of you, his eyes filling with awe. He was such a dork. But it made you feel empowered, and seen. You reach for his shirt and he lets you take it off.
When you lean forward again, chests pressed together, his hands find the small of your back. They trace circles there, sending shivers up your spine.
You take the cue and kiss him slowly, rocking your hips against him. He gasps, his hands tightening as you trail kisses along his neck.
The sounds he makes go straight to your core and you feel the familiar flutter that tells you to hurry. You move back, undoing his jeans and helping him slide them off.
“You’re alright with this?” He breathes into your skin.
Your heart thuds in your ribcage, but mostly from anticipation; you never realized how long you wanted this for. Wanted him.
“Of course,” you pause and so does he. “Took you long enough.”
With a wry smile he covers your mouth with his and soon the two of you find a rhythm that no song could compete with. You find company in someone you’d sworn could never be yours.
It’s bliss.
***
The sun filters through the window and casts a warm light across your floor.
You were in your own bed, and in the middle of the mattress with a leg thrown over the edge was Harry, sound asleep. Tbe weight of his arm over your waist and the steady sound of his breathing is the proof you needed that this was real. He was real.
The two of you hadn't bothered to get dressed last night. It was an unspoken understanding that this wasn’t the end.
You turn onto your side; it was a nice view.
It was a nice morning, actually. The first morning in a while where you not only woke to a warm body, but one that felt like it belonged. That wasn’t going anywhere
Claire must be somewhere in the flat, you realize. You hadn’t heard her come in.
Harry starts to stir as light fills the room. His eyes squint open and his left hand comes up to cover his face.
You reach over to run your fingers through his hair and he sighs, his face relaxing into a smile.
Harry turns to you, eyes finally open and alert and your heart thumps happily.
There was no need for words.
You snuggle closer and he wraps an arm around you. You bury your face into his neck and breathe in his scent.
He laughs quietly, his chest rumbling under you. You kiss him and he responds in kind.
This time there was no rush.
The morning was warm, and so were you.
5 months later
You get there early, you wanted a moment before the guests to take in your accomplishment. Sure you’d been published on websites and magazines before. Your dream has always been to live forever on an album cover. And you’d finally done it.
The venue was a sparkly room thanks to all the disco balls. They contrasted against the rich fabric and wood beams all over the space.
You take a ton of pictures to send to your friends and family.
You mingle with guests as they come in, trying not to give in too much to the hollowed out feeling that came with a string of strangers and the tiresome small talk. You smile and introduce yourself, you know this was how connections were made. In rooms like this.
You feel him come in as you give in to a second drink. You’re at the bar, and your eyes lift up to the entrance and there’s Harry. Your Harry.
Harry’s eyes skim the crowd looking for someone. His someone. No other person mattered until he could locate her. That’s how it felt these days. A million faces could blur by but hers was the one he looked for every time.
He sees her. Looking at him. Of course she’s already spotted him.
You watch as his face splits into an eager smile, his hand raising above his head.
Harry was like fresh lemonade poured into a cup of ice, all of the tiring talks and fake smiles from before vanish as you drink him in. He’s looking at you, only you. You’re looking at only him.
“Sorry I’m late,” he says as a greeting.
“That’s alright,” you peck his lips. “I was just taking a breather.”
“Is the band here? My phone died on the ride so I couldn’t check in.”
“I thought I saw one of them somewhere in that crowd,” you point to the right.
Harry had gotten you this gig. It was the third thing he’d helped you get and slowly you were able to take on less and less wedding and marketing jobs and focus on the music industry. It filled your days and nights with passion-fuelled hard work. You loved every second of it.
And when you weren’t working, you spent time with Harry. It had been 5 months since you started dating. Neither of you questioned what your labels were. You just knew there was nothing else you two could be.
You teased him a lot, how he took the long way to finally recognize the truth. But he made up for it all the time. He made sure you knew how you were the only one for him.
“That is one perfect album,” Harry slips his hand around your waist. Your photograph is blown out to a tapestry and hangs in the middle of the space. It was a sophomore album for the band and with their debut a hit, this tapestry was going to be signed and auctioned. Eventually it would sit somewhere, your photograph, coveted as a piece of music history.
“This is unreal,” you squeeze Harry. “How amazing is it that we both got to work on this album in our own specialties?”
“A perfect match I’d say,” he kisses you.
“What a pair we make,” you grin.
“I see many more shared projects in our future,” Harry promises.
“I’d like that.” It was one of the things you loved about being with Harry, your creativity and how both of you shared a similar industry at times. It brought you closer together, swapping ideas and stories.
“One day I’m going to need album art for the EP I release.”
“Ooh yes,” you clutch his arm. Lately Harry has been spending some times with his head in a brand new notebook, he said he was working on his personal project. “I can’t wait for that day. I have so many ideas of styling you.”
You had a particular image that sat on your phone from the very first night you met. One where he’s dancing alone in a crowd, red lighting casting half his face in shadow and the other in a vibrant scarlet. His eyes are closed and his brows scrunched as his body flows with movement, even in a still picture. You adored it. It was one of the best photos you ever took.
“Me?” Harry looks down at you. He knew whatever songs he pulled together for an EP would be about you. His rush to write recently were from all the time spent being in your presence. It was intense, it had only been 5 months of dating, but somehow he thought you might understand. “I was thinking the cover art could be the subject of my songs.”
“Oh?” You tilt your head.
“Yeah,” he smiles. “How do you feel about self-portraits?”
Your face grows slack as it dawns on you. He had a whole EP in mind, about you.
“Well?” He twitches his hand on your waist, tugging you a little closer.
“Self-portraits sound a bit lonely,” you will your eyes not to tear up.
“But you won’t be,” Harry tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You have me. You won’t ever be lonely.”
“I know,” you feel the emotion catch in your throat as you gaze up into his photographic eyes. You can’t explain it but your body feels grounded—more grounded than it’s ever been. Here in his arms you felt together, like you were a book finally finding a shelf to lean on.
The two of you stand side by side and look at the people this collaborative masterpiece brought together. The room fills with the energy of the music. It was special.
"I love you," Harry reminds you.
"I love you too," you respond.
Your life hadn’t change all at once, not really. The biggest thing that changed was Harry. His presence, his attitude, his attention—it shifted. He wasn’t just a guy on the periphery, in proximity. He had you in his sights and he in yours.
You noticed small new things about him, and you wondered if everyone did. He was more confident and present, rooted to and with you. Both of you had bloomed, like caterpillars into butterflies. A pair of butterflies—you should tell him that.
Sometimes you thought you were just born lonely, it’s how it always was and has been. With Harry, you felt less lonely. You felt like things could really change for you.
You extend your hand to him and motion to the dance floor. It was a tradition now—no dance floor would go unmarked by the two of you.
He takes your hand and you lead him there. And with you in his arms he feels set free, like always.
Out of the cocoon and into the embrace of belonging, two butterflies dance in plain sight.
A/N: this has been an idea sitting in my drafts for a while. You and Harry had a brief but intense relationship as teenagers, were forced to make a serious decision then, and it’s aftereffects have lingered for the rest of your lives. It deals with some heavier topics so read with caution (alcoholism, depression, unwanted pregnancy etc). I’d describe it as sad but hopeful.
Part 2
—————————————
Age 17.
It started in secret. We’d found each other on the roof of a house party. Truth be told, I saw him sneak out of the window where people were crowded around the TV watching some controversial music video I hadn’t heard about. And I’d followed.
I knew who Harry was. Had him in English, Maths, and Biology last year. He was well spoken, thoughtful, and silly. I never spoke to him once though. Only admired him from afar.
Tonight I had my first drink and then another. I was feeling buzzed and despite being painfully shy for most of the time I’d known everyone here, I was suddenly gripped by the realization that we were approaching the last year we would all be together. Why had I waited this long to pursue someone I thought was cute?
I snuck out after him, when my friends weren’t looking. I even tilted the window more closed than usual so no one would suspect anything; I had the attic room at home so I knew how to maneuver the angled roof to get comfortable.
“You need any help?” Harry’s voice is clear in the silence.
“I’m alright.” I stand up to peer at him. He’s climbed near the top.
“Sure? You don’t seem steady.”
“Oh I’m steady,” I prove it to him by climbing up to where he was. “See?”
“I’m mistaken. My bad.” He holds out a hand to help me sit beside him and the night sky flashes brighter for an instant when I grasp his hand. My stomach is in knots.
“Harry. Styles.” I don’t know why I say his full name but I was nervous.
He repeats my full name back to me. I don’t know why I’m surprised he knows it. It’s not like we went to a big school.
“What brings you out here?”
I try to be bold about it, “You?”
“Party was getting too much.” He says. I stare at him in confusion while he complains about something his friends had gotten up to.
I replay my answer and realized it sounded like I’d skipped answering his question and asked the question back. Bugger.
“You know my name.” I interrupt him, forgetting he was telling me a story. Awkward.
“Yeah? Of course I do.”
“We’ve never talked.”
“We talked. Once in Maths. We had to grade each other’s answers.”
Oh yeah. I burn when I remember the 4/10 he’d given me with a smiley face saying that maths was masochistic.
“Barely.”
“I know you though,” he says with a softness that makes my heart stutter.
“Do you?” I look to him, resting my chin on my shoulder. He gazes down at me and I swear I could taste the colours around us.
His eyes draw me deeper as he inches closer. Was he going to kiss me? Oh my god.
I look back out to the roof and he jerks away. Omg.
“I do.”
“Oh,” I don’t know what to do after that awkward moment.
“I know you’re really quiet and shy but your smile is so loud you can see it from across the room.” He says and my breath catches as he continues. “You’re yourself with your friends, you really like Harry Potter and field hockey. You would kill Mal Adams if you could get away with it and you hate Maths just as much as you love art. You’re dating Oli Graves but your smile is only ever shining half as bright when you’re around him. Can I go on?”
I stop breathing completely halfway through his declaration of knowing me. All this time I had my eye on him, I didn’t know he was watching me too.
“I didn’t ask you for your opinion on my relationship.”
“You didn’t. I didn’t give you one either.”
I glare at him. He was right. He smiles knowing he was. I’m mad that I’m not mad at him. That he was right.
“What are you doing with a guy like that?”
Oli and I had been dating for 7 months now. He was loud and fun in a way I wish I could be. That’s why I liked him so much. That’s why I was at a party like this to begin with.
“He’s a good guy.”
“That’s all?” He asks. I look over but he’s looking up at the sky. I follow his gaze and get lost in the great expanse of nighttime.
“I think you deserve someone who sees you. Don’t you?”
“Did Ally see you?” I ask with a hint of aggression I didn’t mean to have.
“Ally and I broke up during Easter. So there’s your answer.” He’s unbothered.
“Well what do you want?” I ask.
“Right now? Or in life?”
I shrug. “Both?”
“I want to explore the world and meet all kinds of people. I wanna make the world a better place by being in it. It’s cheesy as shit so if you ever said I said this I’ll deny it and you’ll look like-“
“My lips are sealed.” I turn his way to promise him that. It makes me laugh at how serious he looks saying it all and when I do his face relaxes.
“You laugh is nice too. I forgot to mention that.”
That quiets me very quickly.
“And right now,” he continues. “I’d really like to kiss you.”
My ears ring. Did I hear him right? Could you get so drunk you hallucinate? I swear the cold air had sobered me-
“Did you hear what I said?” Harry’s moved in closer to me. Did I? I don’t know.
“What d-“
“I’d like to kiss you.”
I nod, afraid to talk and realize I’d hallucinated him saying that.
The world melts away when he kisses me. It’s tender, nothing like Oli and his jagged pushy kissing. In the nighttime air it’s warm, and soft, and easy.
“I know you,” Harry says when we part. I’d nearly climbed into his lap and I try to edge away, embarrassed, but he keeps a hand firm on my thigh.
“I know you too Harry,” I breathe. He smiles and it crinkles his luscious eyes.
I think I was falling.
***
We keep it a secret after I break up with Oli. For months, until mid-August when I invite him over for dinner after my mom insists on meeting “the boy I was all doe-eyed over”. The night with my family goes so well—Harry is the picture of a courteous gentleman that even my sister is swayed by him despite saying boys were gross. I ask him to hang out, in public, the next day. He doesn’t hesitate to say yes.
That’s what I love about Harry—yes love. He’s not pushy, he lets me go at my own pace. He respects me and sees me for everything I am and loves me anyway. I wanted to spend my whole life with him.
It was so intense and relaxed at the same time. It felt like no relationship I’d been in before. I felt different being with him, even my friends noticed.
When final year started, Harry and I were official but we didn’t flaunt it. We didn’t need to. My friends knew about us and they were happy for us, they told me I was more me. Whatever that meant.
Life was phenomenal and I was living in a dusky haze. Nothing could touch us.
Until one day in February. I was out with my sister, mum didn’t want to take her out and since I recently got my driver’s license with plenty of lessons from Harry, I was driving her to the mall. She needed Valentine’s Day cards.
“I thought you said love is stupid.” I remind her on the way.
“It is.”
“So why the hell am I driving you to buy cards for a made up holiday?”
“Because!” She crosses her arms and stares out the window. I flick her arm at a red light.
“You have a crush.”
“I do not!”
“Do too. Who is it? James? Mattie? Hamid?”
“Ew! They’re freaks.” My sister continues staring out the window.
“Why do you want to buy cards so bad!?”
“I just want them! For my friends!”
“Okay then,” I didn’t believe her. But I couldn’t bring her home crying or mum would ground me.
A lot of places have slim pickings. Wandering the aisle of Waterstones I catch sight of a family friend. She was my dad’s uni friend’s daughter, a few years older than me but by the time I got to secondary she had dropped out after getting pregnant. I remember the buzz when everyone found out.
I avoid her and find an aisle to occupy myself.
Harry and I were always careful, mum had already given me the talk and he never pressured me to do anything I didn’t. I imagine Harry as a dad. He would make a good one I think.
As one thought leads to another I go cold as I realize something. My last period was during the holidays.
I feel like I’m walking in a swarm of locusts as I walk to the edge of the aisle, scanning for my sister. Maybe I can pop into a pharmacy before she’s done. Maybe…
This was crazy. It was probably just a missed period.
But if it isn’t, another voice asks. I felt it in my gut. I had to do this.
I don’t remember getting home. I don’t remember anything about the rest of that day except two faint lines, and then two faint lines again, and a third time. I fall asleep before dinner that night and shut the world out.
***
“I know something’s wrong.” Harry’s walking me home after school. It’s Valentine’s Day and he’d been nothing but sweet. He bought me chocolates, flowers, and we planned to cook dinner together after school. I had bought him chocolates too, and had written him a heartfelt note with a bunch of photos of us weeks ago. The box was in my room, waiting for tonight. “Do you not like the flowers? Or is it dinner? We can go out somewhere instead?”
“No everything’s lovely.” I’d never heard Harry this desperate before. It gets under my skin even though part of me knows that’s not really it. But having him hover over me all week trying to figure out what was wrong was too much.
I’d spent every night this week with a hand over my belly. Thinking about it. I hadn’t told anyone. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. All I can think of was Jenny and I didn’t want that life. I couldn’t. I couldn’t be a mother.
“Please. What’s the matter.” Harry asks again, tugging at my hands but I pull them away.
“I just need some space!” I shout and he flinches. “I’m sorry Harry. I just need space right now.”
“Right now like…” he scratches his head. “I don’t get you. It’s Valentine’s Day, we’ve been talking about this day for weeks what do you mean you want space?”
“I can’t do this right now. Please.”
“Are you-are we…”
“I’m not breaking up with you.” I look at Harry with tears in my eyes, I didn’t want to cry out here. But every time I look at him I remember the reality. What’s growing inside me. I can’t take it. “I just can’t do today.”
I go inside my house. Leave him without further explanation. I feel awful, I can’t hold the tears in long enough to get to my room.
***
“Hey love?” My mum and dad knock on my door at half past 5. I lay in the dark, having cried myself dry. “We’re worried about you. Can we talk.”
“I can’t.” I say, voice stuffy.
“I thought you and that boyfriend of yours had plans,” dad says. He liked Harry but he rarely called him by his name. “Did something happen?”
“No!” I wanted them to leave me alone. “I just. I had to cancel. I’m fine.”
“Don’t sound fine to me love,” I feel the mattress dip as mum sits down. Dad strokes my hair. They whisper something I can’t hear and a pair of footsteps pad out of my room.
“Mum just leave me alone.” I try again.
“I’m not.” She pushes me further into my bed and leans down, tugging my blanket down. When I finally look at her she smiles kindly and kisses my forehead. That fills me up enough to start wailing again. “Oh love, what’s wrong?”
“Everything!” I sob into my blanket. Mom lays down beside me and I let myself be cradled like a child. God, I had a child. This was so fucked.
“Talk to me. We can figure it out together.”
I don’t know how my parents would react. They were never particularly strict, especially after what happened with Jenny I remember them always being sympathetic. We even visited her in hospital with a gift.
Mum strokes my hair and whispers that it’ll be okay. Slowly my sobbing eases into light sniffles. I had to tell her. She would know what to do. And if she hated me for it, I would just have to deal with it.
“Mum don’t be mad-“
“I won’t honey I-“
“No. Mum.” I cut her off. She moves back on the pillow so she can see my whole face, moving a strand of hair so I couldn’t hide. “Something…messed up. Happened. And…I was careful. We were always careful I don’t know what happened but I-“
I watch her face changed. Like she knew. She knew what was coming but she waits patiently as I muster up the courage to say the words that felt too real once I said them.
“Mum I’m…I’m pregnant.”
Her eyes fill with tears and she bites her lip. What was she thinking? Was she crying for me or with me? Why wasn’t she saying anything!?
“Mum-“
“C’mere.” She wraps me in her embrace again and kisses the top of my head. My body feels drained and limp. I finally told somebody. It was real. This living thing inside of me was real.
“What happened?” She asks next. And I tell her what I think happened. When. How I found out. She listens, holding my hand in hers. When I’m done and it’s poured out of me she smiles supportively. “This isn’t a bad thing okay? It’s okay. Any decision you make is up to you. I’ll talk to your dad but just know you call the shots okay? I love you.”
This is what carries me. The love.
She asks me it I told Harry yet and I tell her the truth. She urges me to tell him. I tell her I wanted to so bad but I was scared.
She leaves shortly after that, I hear her talking softly outside my room. Nobody calls me for dinner until 7, a soft knock on my door. My sister would never be so soft, I assume it’s dad so I tell him to come in. I was scared to face him.
It’s Harry instead.
“Harry!” I cover my splotchy face with my blanket, why was he here? Did mum invite him? This was soo embarrassing.
My heart pounds and Harry is silent until he takes a seat where mum had previously been.
“I came over, your mum invited me. She explained.”
She did what? For a moment I feel betrayed.
“She said you weren’t doing so well. Stressed? I could make you some tea if you’d like. But I told you y/n, you’ll get into unis. You don’t have to worry so…”
I sigh. Mum had told him a half-truth. But he had come. Of course he had.
I couldn’t even think about uni right now because that lead me down a road of what if I couldn’t go because I had a baby. And that life felt so bleak it made me depressed.
“Harry.” I inch my blanket down a little and his eyes go round when he looks at me.
“You look…awful.”
“I know.” I cover my face with my hair but he brushes it away and kisses my forehead.
“No. I’m worried about you. I brought dinner-“
“Oh Harry.” I spot the bag he brought with him.
“I made it all for us. With my mum’s help but mostly me. I packed it to bring to you.”
I didn’t deserve him. And I had to tell him. And he was going to break up with me. What high school boy wanted a child?
“Harry it’s not uni.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I was carrying another living thing. It was the size of a seed but I was carrying it inside me. Like a living breathing pot. I was a potted plant.
“Then what is it?” His brows crinkle. “Is it us?”
“No!” I rush to tell him. “I…I don’t know how to say this. And I don’t know how you’re going to react but it’s okay either way.”
“What are you talking about?” His hands slide up my lap. “What is it?”
“Harry. I’m um, I’m pregnant.”
I watch him freeze and stay exactly how he is, his brows pinch ever so slightly. I knew this look. He looked still on the outside but his mind was racing. And I was scared what was racing through it.
“Pregnant?”
“Yeah. From…the holidays.”
“How did-I thought we-“
“I guess it’s not foolproof.” I whisper. Mum had told me to go on the pill, and I hadn’t listened because all my friends told me it made them gain weight. If only I had listened. Now I was gaining weight anyway.
“What are we going to do?” He asks next. And I never realized six little words could weigh the world. If I could cut those words out and surgically implant them into my heart I would. Just to remind me the equal parts relieved and comforted they made me.
I hold his face in my hands, new tears springing to my eyes. He was in this. With me.
He kisses me and pulls me into a hug. I cry into his shirt again and he holds me so tight I swear I could break.
“I don’t know if I can keep it Harry,” I finally whisper to him.
His hands fist in my shirt, he holds his breath and after a long minute he lets me go with it.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Was he really okay with all this?
“It’s…I can’t make you keep it.”
“You’d want to keep it?” I couldn’t believe it.
“It’s…” he swallows his sentence and keeps his gaze on my stomach. I tug his hand and lay it over it. When his eyes meet mine I see a hint of heartbreak. We were going to break our hearts either way I think.
Not once did I think he might want to keep it.
“It’s okay.” Harry finally says. “We’re so young right? How would we keep a baby and go to school, and do everything we always talk about?”
“Yeah I don’t…I don’t know.”
“I love you.” He says with such a sudden passion. I wrap my arms around his and return the sentiment.
Eventually we lay down and just talk about everything. Truthfully, my head was telling me not to keep the baby but everything else felt dead thinking about it.
Maybe that’s why it took me until April to finally make a decision. It was the size of a plum by then, and a tiny bump was starting to show but only when I stood naked in front of the mirror. With clothes on, nobody was the wiser. But the longer I kept it, I think the more Harry fell in love with it. The idea of it.
We have a long talk during our Easter holiday. We talked in my bedroom until the sun comes up. I tell him I was sure of my decision.
I’d gotten accepted to Cambridge by then. Harry was staying in London. We knew it wasn’t feasible. To live the life we always wanted, we had to get rid of this new life we never knew could happen.
I don’t know why but I don’t tell him the day I go to do it. I go with my mum. Mum drops my sister off at school—she didn’t know. Mum said she had a big mouth.
We drive in silence. When we park mum asks how I feel.
“Sad.” It was the truth. I knew this was right. But it felt like shite.
“Yeah.” She rubs my hands. “Want to go in?”
“I just want to sit here for a bit.” I tell her.
“Okay. I’ll go sign you in.”
She takes my purse and hers and leaves me there. I take the moment to ground myself. Say goodbye to the other future.
When mum knocks on my window I jump.
“Yn? Is everything alright?”
“Yeah yeah I’m coming in.” I open the door.
“You know you’ve been sitting here half hour?”
I pause, one leg out the door and one still in. “I…I must have got lost in my head. Sorry mum-“
“Look. Do you want to do this?”
“I don’t know…I have to.”
“There are other options love-“
“But how can I give it up and live my whole life like that?”
“We can help raise her. You can go on and live your life-“
“I’d be a horrible mother.” Mum and I had this row so many times before. It always ended in me storming away but I couldn’t here.
“You don’t need to make the decision today.”
“But I do.” I tell her. “Otherwise it’ll drive me insane.”
I tuck both feet back into the car and rest my hand on my belly. I’d allowed myself to do that only in my room, when I was alone. Doing it out here made it feel even more real. Suddenly I couldn’t imagine going through with the decision.
“I can’t do this.” I tell my mum.
She smooths my hair down and kisses my temple. My door closes and a few seconds later she climbs in beside me.
“Think about it.”
“I can’t. But I can’t keep it either.”
“Okay.” Mum pulls me into her and I think I should cry but I can’t. I’m calm, maybe I know I’d made the right decision. Or just a decision. I was going to stick to this.
“I can’t raise it. I’m just a child I…maybe someone out there wants a baby and can’t have one maybe-“
“I’ll look into it for you.” Mum promises. “You set the rules remember?”
And that’s how it goes. Mum looks into it, we decide to go for adoption. We go to the hospital on the first warm day of the year. By then I’d taken to wearing jumpers over flowy dresses and been thankful for the first time in my life that I wasn’t skinny like other girls. At most angles you couldn’t tell my belly was so perfectly round.
By then too, Harry had accepted the decision. He seemed relieved. Thinking aloud he’d said maybe he could raise it, but quickly turned around when I asked him what he’d do about uni.
“Someone out there can take care of it better than us. Someone will love the baby like we do.”
During the summer, I tell all my friends I was staying with family in midlands. And I do go up there, that’s where the couple who was adopting lived. Harry and I meet them with my mum and his. It’s awkward, we run out of conversation fast. But their house is big and they already have a 2 year old from an adoption last year. My baby was going to be loved here. And have a sibling.
“We did want to discuss one last thing,” they’d said before we left. We all listen intently. “We…find it best when it’s a no contact adoption. We’ve had a lot of friends who keep contact open and it gets messy-“
“What?” I hadn’t really thought about this until now. Hearing I’d have to give the baby up and go on like it didn’t exist felt wrong. Harry’s hand slips into mine.
“This is typical,” Harry’s mum says from his side. “Let’s hear it out.”
“Right. So just to prevent future complications, we do no contact. Of course when baby’s older and wants to seek out the real parents we can’t stop them. But until then…”
“Thank you.” My mum steps in when it goes silent. I could hardly wrap my head around what they were saying. When it gets older?
Pretty soon mum is ushering me out and Harry’s hand is still clutching mine. We don’t let go until we reach my Uncle’s where we were staying until August. The baby was due in September. I was going to miss the first week of class.
“I can’t do this.” I tell them later. “How can we just have no contact.”
“I thought you knew.” Mum says. “I explained that some parents want this when they adopt.”
She might have. Ever since I hit the third trimester like my doctor said, I’ve had a hard time listening and understanding what someone was saying after they spoke too long. I was glad school was done—for obvious reasons, but also for not having to sit in a class and learn.
“We have no other choice.” Harry says from beside me. He rubs my back and slowly, I zone back into the conversation. “We can find another family but they might want the same thing.”
“What if the baby never looks for us?” I turn to him, our heads press against the other’s. “What if we go our whole lives just wondering?”
“What’s the other option?” Harry whispers. He was right. I just didn’t want to get it.
Acceptance slowly creeps into me over the course of the summer. It was always hot carrying another person around, I was always hungry and thirsty, and very cranky. Harry came up to see me every other weekend when he could, mum stayed with me and that summer was one I could never forget.
It was September 1st, a particularly hot day. Rain fell in the afternoon and by the time the unforgiving sun set, the cool air was heavenly.
I sat by the bedroom window, moisturizing my belly like mum had shown me, talking to the baby. I wrote it a letter last week all about me, that I loved them and hoped the best for them. I told the baby about my family, how Harry and I met, and then I sealed it in an envelope with a picture of Harry and me. It was taken last Halloween when we’d both dressed up as each other. I tell mum to give it to the new parents. In case the day came the baby wondered about who we were.
As I spoke softly, I felt a gush of something wet down my leg.
“What?” I stand up, confused. “I…”
It takes me a second. I was going into labour.
“Mum!” I shout. “Mum! Come here!”
She rushes in and confirms it. It was happening.
“But it’s supposed to be next week!” I try not to panic but that’s all I can do as mum grabs our things and my aunt rushes to the car. “Does this mean something’s wrong? Is the baby o-“
I freeze as a contraction forces me to fold. I’d felt the kicking and the nausea and everything in between but these. These were a bitch.
Somehow we make it to hospital. Somehow I lay on a bed and push when the doctor tells me to. I nearly pass out. I just wanted Harry here with me. He didn’t know his kid was being born.
With a final push that felt like I was ascending my body and leaving it behind, I hear a wail and I cry. The baby was out, they cried and everything was okay.
“Okay congratulations mummy,” a nurse crouches down to me. “We’re going to clean you and baby up. She’s healthy and looks okay.”
“What?” I can barely see with my hair in my face and the nurses around me. It was a she? I had a baby girl?
We were never told the gender, so we wouldn’t get attached. But I had a baby girl. The nurse just called me mum.
I feel the tears on my cheeks, I was crying too. I try to look around me but a new nurse is talking in hushed voices to the doctor.
“…outside…call…adoption…shouldn’t or….contact-“
“What’s going on?” I can barely get the words out. “What?”
“Oh my love,” suddenly mum’s in the room and things are a bit better. A bit better.
“Mum what’s going on?”
“The baby’s born. The parents are outside they’re going to meet her soon.”
“What?” I look at mum’s face and it’s shining with tears. Why was she crying?
“Oh she’s beautiful love, she’s perfect. But your job’s done now. You should rest.”
“Mum,” I cry. “Where is she? Can’t I hold her?”
“No love,” mum moves my hair out of my face. I feel something break in half inside of me. I couldn’t even hold the baby? The baby girl? Mine and Harry’s baby girl?
“Why? Mum why? I just want to see her-“
“I’m sorry,” mum says through tears. “It’s just the way it is. She’s going to a loving home okay? She’s good. You’re okay.”
I can’t stop crying. I was going to lose her last April and I stopped that but I lost her anyway. My baby, I was never going to see her.
I remember when my sister was born. I was 5 and I was angry she’d taken the attention away. But when I saw her with her perfect toes and angel face I was obsessed with her. I even remember her first steps, she’d taken them at a park with mum and dad and me together. I was never going to know these things about my own baby. I was never going to know her.
I must pass out soon after. I remember waking up to the nurses instructing me about something. I’m half asleep and barely remember what I did when I get up. When I do wake it’s morning and there’s a figure on the chair beside me.
“You’re up.”
Harry. Relief washes over me knowing he’s here.
“Harry they took her,” I tell him.
“I know. I know yn.”
I move aside and he crawls into bed with me. I must look disgusting but he watches me with love brimming in his eyes. I can tell he’s been crying.
“I feel empty,” I whisper. Like someone had carved me out like a pumpkin. Something I’d had with me all year was gone. “How can I just move on? Start uni and all that when I…they just took her.”
“I keep thinking that.” Harry says. “Khalil invited me to a party to meet some blokes from uni and I just sat in my car the whole time. I couldn’t even go in. She…she was never going to be ours.”
“I feel awful.” I burrow into his neck as he strokes my hair. “A baby girl.”
“A baby girl,” Harry echoes.
***
I head to uni a week later. My body still feels like it fought a war and lost. It’s like it still thinks there’s a baby there. I produce milk for a few days, continue to have contractions, my belly is saggier than usual and I can’t stop crying about everything.
My dad drops me off to uni. He tells me he was proud of me, that I was always his baby girl. I cry then just like I cried at home when I said bye to mum, or when my sister hugged me which she never does. I can’t stop crying.
When I move into my dorm I feel like a completely different person than I thought I was going to be. My dormmate fills me in on everything she’s learned, complains about a boy and a party and it just feels so irrelevant to me. Did I used to care about those things? I had a baby. And now I didn’t.
By October, Harry and I are in different worlds. We hadn’t broken up but we talk weekly. Each week there’s less to talk about. When I visit home in October, being around him just makes me sad. He tries to cheer me up, make it like old times, but I know he’s hurting inside too.
I decide to do the breaking up. And at first he’s angry, insisting we could make it work. He actually refuses and walks away. We don’t talk for a whole day.
But at a house party in South where his uni mates were from, he accepts the end.
Through tears we kiss each other one final time, we whisper sweet nothings, we pour into each other all the hopes and wishes we had for each other.
When he hugs me for the last time I leave something behind. It’s similar to waking up the morning after my delivery and knowing something was gone. I really feel the shape of the loss. It sits in my sternum, a hole that grows smaller with time, but not just yet.
I fall into a depressed state for most of my first semester but my dormmate doesn’t give up on me and eventually I go to my first uni party. Eventually my brain fog clears and I actually go to all my classes. Eventually my life, on the outside, looks like it could be back to normal but inside I ache with the loss. So much that it becomes part of me. I don’t know where it ends, and I begin. It lives in me.
Age 23.
“The first of many hey?” Mal clinks his bottle to mine. I barely knew Mal but we were both friends with Khalil and therefore both at his stag.
“Before you know it we’re all going down,” one of Khalil’s friends joins in. “Stag after stag, suit after suit, it’s gonna be a blur man.”
“Let’s enjoy it while we can!” Someone cheers and everyone raises their beers. I toast with a smile; blokes loved to act like being in a relationship was the last thing they wanted when I knew most of them were mush in their girlfriend’s hands.
I also smile knowing I bought an engagement ring a few weeks back. I wanted to propose to Shannon, we met on her 22 when a friend invited me along. I couldn’t keep my eyes off the birthday girl. We’d been together since.
“Who do you think’s next?” The bets start going and nobody bets on me. Everyone always thought Shan was too good for me, they were counting on us breaking up. I was going to prove them all wrong.
The night gets sloppier until we all head back to the air bnb we’d rented for this. Tomorrow we were all supposed to go play golf like we were cosplaying old money bastards when we all knew we were just broke blokes from East. But I guaranteed they’d all be too hungover. We would get to the club and just drink the hangovers away.
And I’m right. I update Shan that I’m right when the boys stay in the dining area of the club. They decide on lunch and I step out to talk to my girlfriend.
“No birds allowed this weekend,” someone pipes in when I excuse myself.
“That’s just cuz you’re miserable Eli.” I brush past as the boys laugh. At me. And him.
I catch up with Shan. It was a bright day for September and I stay a little longer after the phone ends. Shan was in med school, she was always stressed or sleep deprived. I tried to support her the best I could—right now she needed moral support that she was going to get an internship she was applying for.
“Mummy doesn’t like when I have sweets,” a small voice says to my left. I look at a father with his daughter. He’s crouched down zipping her sweater up while she rambles on.
“Well it’s going to be our secret.” The dad says. “Sundays are for sweets aren’t they?”
“I love sweets.” She responds.
The father catches my eye and I shoot him a smile.
“Her mum’s going to hear every detail when we get home,” he says as he stands. “Can’t keep a secret to save her life.”
I laugh. The way she was rambling on, I didn’t think so. “How old’s she?”
“6.” He says, smiling down at her fondly. My heart aches.
“Almost 7.” She corrects her dad.
“Birthday’s in the spring.” He says more to me. “But almost 7 sure.”
I see them leave with one more shared smile, like we’re in on something. I imagine that’s how it would feel to be a parent. Always knowing something your kid doesn’t.
My daughter was 6. Wherever she was.
Thinking about the daughter I never had, the girl I lost always leaves me a little winded. Today’s no different.
Yn and I both made an agreement and it had been the hardest thing I’d done. Letting her go. It took me a proper year to even think about moving on.
I liked to think about yn, doing everything she wanted to do. But when I thought about the baby I spiralled into a dark pit. Sometimes when I drank too much, it pulled me in too deep to get out of. That’s what Shan liked to call my depressive drinking. She’s limited me to 3 drinks since.
Before I go in I take a minute to think about yn, where she might be. I hear from friends in high school random facts about her life. But I wonder how she’s doing. If she thinks about our baby like I do. How life would have been if I’d been here, calling her on the phone instead, asking if our baby girl was doing alright.
Age 29.
I stare at the nape of the man in front of me. It couldn’t be, but I’d memorized the back of his head—amongst other things, nearly 2 decades ago and I would bet £1000 I knew who this was. But I continue staring until the cashier rings him up.
In the same voice I remember, the one from my memories and my fantasies, I hear him say: “debit.”
I wait for him to pay before saying, “Harry?”
He turns so quickly he drops his card, wallet, and keys.
“Hi!” I laugh awkwardly and crouch down to help him pick his things up. There’s an awareness that the people in the queue behind me are witness to a moment that feels more intimate than a grocery store chat and it makes me shrink a little in my shell like a spooked turtle.
“Hi I-uh,” Harry short-circuits in front of me as the bored cashier holds his receipt out and stares at him with eyes that have worked one shift too many.
“I’ll just bag-“
“Yeah we can talk later.” I give him what I hope is a reassuring smile but it feels watery. I couldn’t believe of all the places I’d run into him, it was a grocery queue. How intense in such a mundane place.
As I watch my total rise on screen I risk a glance at Harry. His hand hovers over a white reusable bag, I wonder if that was his. Or his wife’s. If they did their weekly shop in a mismatch of bags that looked like that or they were the type of couple to have a set.
His eyes are on me though, somehow here and not here. I feel the same way.
I look back to the cashier asking me how I was paying. She glances between Harry and I. I don’t look back at him. Or the growing queue a few feet away.
I take my groceries—just some items my mum asked me to pick up, and stuff them into the tote I’m wearing. Harry waits for me by the exit.
“Hi.” He says as his eyes scan my face. I do the same, taking in all the ways time had spent with him. It must have been good—he looked good. “I can’t believe-“
“A Whole Foods of all places.” I laugh. A grin splits his face but his eyes stay on me.
“That smile, that laugh. God I’ve missed you.”
“I…missed you too.” How I could miss someone I’d known for one year and then never again for nearly two decades…I didn’t realize it was possible until now.
“Are you busy?” He asks. “Maybe we can grab a drink or?”
“I don’t…drink.” I hated that I had to announce it to people. I was still at the stage where I was figuring out how to say it confidently, or find a way around saying it.
“Oh.” Harry glances down at my belly and I realize he’d misunderstood but it’s too unspoken to correct him. “Cafe?”
“Yeah. That sounds lovely.” Honestly going anywhere with him sounded lovely right now. I wanted to cancel all my plans for the day and just sit with him. Stare at him and catch up. I couldn’t believe he was here.
We walk in a comfortable but waiting silence, like taking a cold drink out to a park with the anticipation it’s going to be good , and no desperation to open it as soon as you get it.
“Usual? Tea?” Harry asks when we step into a nearby cafe. It’s big for a cafe but has enough students working on laptops to not feel empty. I nod, unsure how to feel that Harry still knows what I order at a cafe. Or that my order hasn’t changed since 17.
I find us a booth and pretty soon he’s sliding into the seat across from me. The two of us can’t stop smiling.
“Hi,” he says again.
“Hi…”
“You look good, the same but better.”
“I was going to say the same thing about you!” I exclaim. More smiling.
“How’s…I mean, how are you? How is everything? What-“
“There’s so much to ask-“
“I don’t even know how to ask what I want to know!” Harry laughs and I’m warmed from the inside out at the sound of it.
“This shouldn’t be hard!”
“No.” He scrubs his face. “I’m really buzzing that we’ve run into each other.”
“Me too. It’s a bit unbelievable.”
“I know.” He continues gripping his cup and not taking his eyes off of me. It’s the exact way he used to look at me when we were teenagers. It nearly takes my breath away. “You look good—but I already said that. Sorry.”
“No,” I laugh. “That’s all that’s running through my head.”
“Oh—I remember hearing you were engaged a few years ago-“
“Yeah.” I turn my hand so he can see the ring. “Married now. You?”
“Yeah,” he looks down at his own hand. He had so many rings on I couldn’t tell from a glance. “Coming up to 5 years now.”
“Wow. It’s only 1.5 for me but Tatum and I—my husband, we’d been since uni.”
“Took him a while.”
“Mhm,” it had been a sore subject way back then. Harry says it casually but he studies my face. I know he wants to ask more but he’ll politely maneuver around it.
“Are you happy?”
I let out a breath. “That’s more complicated than anything else you could ask!”
“Is it?”
“Yeah I-“ I shrug. “I don’t know if I am. But I also have no idea what I could do about it. So. There’s that.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” My stomach curdles with his words. I didn’t want pity, least of all from Harry. Harry. I can’t believe he was here. “I get it though. Everyone says your 30s are even more glorious than your 20s. We’ll see soon enough if they’re right.”
I meet his eye, they always intimidated me to look too long into. Even now, I glance back down at my drink. When I look up again he has a wry smile twisting his lips. He knew.
I was sorry to hear life hadn’t been as good for him. And then I understand, it wasn’t pity he was giving me. He truly was sorry like I.
I thought about Harry often. Of course I did. I liked to imagine him living out his dreams like he always talked about. I liked to imagine him happy and thriving.
“Do you ever think about us?” I have to ask. “If we did it all differently?”
“We would have had a 12 year old with us.”
Hearing him say it feels like someone had taken a screwdriver and opened me up. Raw and exposed. But looking at him I know he thought about her as much as I had. Both of us were apparently mourning a future neither of us had fought for.
“Yeah,” I breathe but I just sound winded.
“We were trying, at one point—Shan and I.” Harry fiddles with his ring. “Did all the tests and the trials and the shite. But no kids. It put a real strain on my relationship. I think we cracked instead of bending. And I don’t think either of us know how to make it right again.”
I grasp his hand and squeeze. “I know what that’s like. It’s hard. I…a couple years ago. I lost a baby. A baby boy. I felt like it was a punishment for-“
“Don’t.”
We hold onto each other, our drinks long forgotten. He holds my hand and it feels like being known again, like I wasn’t such an awful person. That someone could see everything I’ve done and still choose to have love for me.
“I’m sorry.” He tells me.
“Me too.” I bite my lip. With a sigh I let him go and lean back. Here we’d been so excited to bump into each other but we’d both been carrying sorrow and grief. It wasn’t very hopeful.
“So I guess you’re not drinking because you’re-“
“No.” I say, surprisingly without feeling awkward. “I’m just sober right now. Trying to figure out life without a drink.”
“Sounds like torture but I respect that. Sounds hard.”
“It was at first. I like the feeling now of thinking clearly. But I miss a glass of wine I do sometimes.”
We smile at each other.
“So do you live around here?” Harry broaches talking again after both of us had lapsed into silence for a while. I blink away the fog of the past.
“Yeah. You?”
“Nah. Shan’s out of town and I was feeling lonely. Came over to visit my sister. I’m just staying with her for the week.”
“Lucky me then.” I smile.
“Lucky me too.” He smiles back. It’s soft. We’re soft. It felt impossible to me after all this time the tenderness was still the strongest thing between us.
We chat a bit more, much about nothing. What we did for a job, anyone we still kept in touch with from school. Nothing that meant a lot.
“I need to head off now,” I say when my phone buzzes for a second time. “I was on my way to my mum’s. She keeps calling me.”
“Yeah. Don’t want to keep you.” Harry says but he stays seated. So do I.
We continue just studying the other until my phone rings again and I laugh. “It was…I really loved seeing you.”
I slide out and Harry mirrors me. I still come to his chest, he still smells the same and stands the same and looks just as handsome.
“How about uhm, how about dinner some time?” Harry asks. I knew it was coming, it’s still painful saying no.
“I…can’t. I…we can’t just do dinner, can we?”
“No,” Harry bows his head. We had too much history to just do dinner. From what he said—and I knew, both our lives were too complicated to add the allure of each other into the mix. I couldn’t do that to my life as tempted as I was. Especially not sober.
“Yeah.” He stands straight again and gives me space to head to the door. “Good seeing you. Give your mum my best if she doesn’t hate me.”
“She doesn’t.” I assure him. We stand awkwardly not sure if a kiss, a hug, or a wave was appropriate. We settle for a hug.
I remember the last time I was enveloped in his arms, tucked away into his tall frame. When we said goodbye forever, agreed to live our best lives separately. We’d both been too scarred to be anything together. Too much grief.
“Maybe we’ll run into each other again.” Harry smiles at me when we part.
“Maybe,” I say knowing full well I wouldn’t do groceries on the weekend anymore.
With a final wave we both part ways again, this time it doesn’t feel as much like closure.
Age 35.
“Graduation’s graduating, what a mouthful.” I say to Andie. We sit in the parking lot of a local pub back home. Both of us had avoided reunions after going to the first one 10 years ago and being reminded of how much people liked to remind you of who you used to be. But this year Andie found out an old flame was going and single. And this is the first year I saw that Harry had checked off going. So we’d decided to go together.
I could have easily reached out to him. Asked him about meeting up there. But I didn’t want to come across any way. I remember our run-in 6 years ago. We felt the same way—we would do anything for each other, and I didn’t want any affect over him coming. Last I heard he was still in a relationship. Just cuz I was didn’t mean I had to ruin another.
“Okay. We going in?” Andie passes me her flask.
I’d taken to drinking again. Originally I stopped after a particularly bad night when I was 28. It nearly cost me my wedding back then.
I stopped to get sober. To feel what it felt like not to rely on alcohol to keep from feeling my emotions. I had a lot of grief I never processed. And unfortunately being sober, and processing the grief and depression, had ultimately cost me my marriage. But I was better for it. I knew what unconditional love and support was. I didn’t want to settle for someone who only loved me at my best.
Now I felt in control when I drank. I knew when to stop.
“Let’s go!”
“Do you think he’ll remember me?” Andie asks as we walk up to the place.
“You comment on so many of his posts. I think he does.” I tease.
“Gah. It would have saved me so much heartbreak if I just told him back 18 years ago how I felt.”
“Maybe,” I think about my confessed love 18 years ago and the heartbreak that ensued.
“Well at least I would have gotten him outta my system. Oh god I see him-“
“Hi ladies,” we’re stopped near the front and given name tags, making small talk with the girls working the booth. I vaguely remember them from a club but I have to read their name tags to pretend I remembered them at all.
Andie ditches me pretty quickly but I don’t mind. I find some friends I saw a couple times a year. Guess this was the couple time this year.
The whole time my eyes scan the room. People had brought their partners and I wondered if Harry would do the same. Deep down, I prayed he didn’t. I just wanted to see him.
I spot him halfway through the night. He’s leaning against the bar talking to Khalil. I remembered they used to be friends, he was always nice to me while Harry and I dated.
I watch him talk and drink. I lose him for a bit and then catch him leaving. Shite.
I excuse myself and rush out but nearly trip over myself slowing down. He was just outside for a smoke break.
“When did that habit start?” I ask. He nearly jumps out of his skin.
“Fu-y/n you scared me.” He shakes his face dramatically, like he’s getting something off of it. I bite back a smile, he was pretty drunk. “When did you get here? I didn’t know you came to these things?”
“I don’t.” I correct him. I couldn’t tell him I came for him. “It was just the name of this reunion, Graduation’s graduating. How could I pass it up?”
This earns a laugh. Eases the air between us. “Did you see Oli in there? He’s gotten bald.”
“He looks like his dad actually,” I remember his dad was always coming to Oli’s football matches, screaming at his son to run faster.
“Glad you didn’t end up with him?” Harry smirks.
“Oh yeah. I heard last reunion he just kept going up for the karaoke sober. If I want my bloke to embarrass me, at least give him the excuse of being drunk.”
“Shit,” Harry laughs. “I remember that! I remember! Wish I could forget!”
I laugh with him. “Harry you’re getting pretty close to drunk yourself.”
“Ah yeah. More than 3 drinks that, I’m being naughty tonight.”
I scrunch my nose, no idea what he’s talking about.
“I can’t believe you’re here tonight,” Harry says again. “I thought I wasn’t going to see you again for another 12 years after our last time.”
“Thought I’d halve the time.” I watch Harry squash out the butt.
“Glad you did.” He looks at me and I’m 17 again. Why couldn’t we both be single? Why did I come here knowing I couldn’t have him.
Maybe I was as masochistic as the person who invented maths.
“Yn?” A voice calls out to me. “Oi! It is you I thought I was dreaming you up! What a sight!”
I’d been avoiding Oli all night. Not anymore.
I glance at Harry and he hides a smirk. Oli notices Harry then and his face hardens a little.
“Oli! Long time!” I go in for the hug he’s reaching for, unsure why he was so sweaty on an autumn night. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” he grins at me. “You look good! Not a day over 25.”
“Don’t flatter me Oli,” I roll my eyes. “It’s not going to get you anything.”
“I’m not looking! I swear it!” He says earnestly. “I’m just paying you a compliment. It’s good to see you. Hey, I’m actually in a good relationship. Gonna propose to her.”
“Are you? What’s she like?”
I stand in the brisk evening as Oli tells me about his girlfriend. I’m happy for him, what we had in high school wasn’t really a relationship but I never wished him bad. He was a good guy, I was glad he found his person.
I change the subject when he asks about my love life, tell him I was getting cold. We head back in and I tell him I’d catch up to him later. I’d lost Harry and wanted to find him again. I had more I wanted to talk about.
“Khalil,” I interrupt him playing pool. He goes in for a hug and I engage in polite small talk until I tire of it. “I’m looking for Harry.”
“Of course you are,” he wags a finger at me. “I saw him leaving ten minutes ago?”
“Jeez really?” I couldn’t believe I missed him! After coming here just for him. Maybe he had to get home, maybe he had a kid by now. Had to tuck him in.
“He’s not doing so well since the divorce-“
“What?” I stare at Khalil like he’s spoken gibberish. Why hadn’t I heard about that?
“Ehm yeah. He’s pretty private about it.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Yeah. He’s been separated a few years now but he just signed the papers a couple weeks ago. I dunno. He gets kinda depressed around this time of year. Probably the weather.”
It was September. It wasn’t the weather.
I had to find him.
I brush past the people I went to school with. I followed Harry outside to a roof 17 years ago and today I follow him out to find him again. We needed to talk.
I look both ways, hoping for a miracle.
I spot a figure slumped on the far end of the road. I recognize the church, it was where we went every Easter and Christmas growing up.
I walk towards the figure until I can make out the hair. It was Harry. Thank god.
“Why’d you leave?” I ask him when he looks up to my approaching footsteps.
“I drank too much,” he hangs his head again. I sit beside him.
“I heard about the divorce. I’m sorry.”
Harry shrugs. “We separated a while ago. It was coming for a long time.”
“Yeah. Still.” I say.
We sit in silence, the only sound is our breathing and the faint noises from the pub down the road.
“She’s in her last year by now.” I say without further explanation. I know he’d know.
“Our baby’s 17.”
Our baby? I feel choked up. All these years we’d been apart, built our own lives, and there was still an our even when there hadn’t been.
“It’s always been us hasn’t it?” Harry says. “Nobody understands.”
“They couldn’t. We were so young, making such a big decision.”
“Oh y/n.” He leans into me and I wrap my arm around his shoulder. He’s cold, his jacket pooled on the steps around him. I gather it to spread over his shoulder but he stops me. “How much heartbreak can you have in one lifetime?”
I sit, aching for the pain Harry was going through. Knowing it was mirrored in me.
“I’ve had enough for a lifetime. I know that.”
“Me too.” Harry sighs. “I miss you.”
“I’m right here.” I intertwine our hands. They still fit the exact same, all these years later. I examine them, but they looked the same too. I wonder if our baby girl ever looked at her hands, wondered who she inherited them from.
“D’you think she thinks about us?” Harry asks what I’m thinking.
“Maybe.” I say. “I like to think so. I just hope she doesn’t hate us for giving her up.”
“Yeah me too I think…” he hangs his head. I hear him sniffle. Seems like Harry hit the point of drinking where all you could feel is regret. I remember those days. I knew where he was.
When he doesn’t finish his sentence I fill the silence; “Me and Tatum split uh…four years ago now.” I update him. “You probably heard something about it. I remember my mum saying she ran into yours when it was happening. They probably talked all about it.”
I wait for Harry to give confirmation but he stays the way he is.
“I went sober a few years before then. Almost ruined our wedding cuz I was exactly where you were. Unprocessed grief and all I could do was drink about it. I’d given up a baby at 18, then lost a baby a decade later. It feels silly to say out loud, that something that never really came into this world—something the size of a fruit could act like the rock you push up the hill every morning. The grief you fight at your darkest times. How could we be haunted by something that didn’t even exist—not technically. But that’s just the way it was. And that’s the way it had to be when we were 18. I’m not always sure I made the right decision overall but I know it was a decision we had to make at the time. I’ve had to find my peace. So do you Harry.”
“Yeah. I-I have to. Y’know? Sometimes I wonder if I would have made her proud.” Harry sniffles. I had similar thoughts. My throat feels tight remembering. “I don’t think, right now, I would be.”
“She’s so loved. She is so loved Harry. Whatever…wherever she is.”
“I love you.” Harry turns to me. His face is raw with grief and emotion. “Never stopped loving you. But I don’t want to give you this version of me.”
“I’ll take any version of you Harry.” I reassure him. “I think we’ve seen too much of each other to be able to hide anything away.”
He tips forward slowly until his head rests on my chest. I hold him there, just like he’d done for me so many years ago. I tell him the type of thing that meant everything to me back then and I hope it helps him to hear it: “We’ll get through this Harry.”
***
“I don’t remember getting here.”
I look up from my book, Harry stands in my kitchen with a confused look on his face. It was weird seeing him here in my flat. But it was so right too.
“We walked home. I thought you sobered up.”
“Nuh-uh.” He takes a few steps towards me, hesitant.
“Coffee?”
“Maybe I’ll take a shower first?”
“First door on your right. Extra towels in the cupboard.”
“Thanks.”
We look at one another for a beat before he moves back. I make another pot of coffee and clean up from breakfast while he showers.
Next time he walks back in he looks a lot better. Smells nice too.
“Black please.” He says when I hold the coffee up.
I pour him a cup and watch him sip it.
“Thank you for last night.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” I tell him.
“I remember what you said to me. You’re right of course. I think I knew it, I just didn’t have anyone to talk to about it with. Nobody knew about us…”
“You didn’t have to keep it a secret ‘til this day Harry.” I was surprised he had. “You didn’t even tell any of your friends?”
“The only people who knew were my family, a-and Shan. But. Year after year it didn’t mean the same thing to her. I stopped talking to her about it pretty quickly. Think it made it worse because her and I couldn’t actually…”
“Yeah.” I understood.
“But I realized. I think it was losing both of you. I feel like you were taken away too. We just went from being around each other all the time to cold turkey. That was a loss too so…”
“Yeah.” Again, I understood.
“I’m 35. I’ve gotta…get my head on straight.”
I examine him. “Looks okay to me?”
He smiles and puts his cup down.
“I’m sorry to hear about your divorce.”
“Meh that was years ago. Hard then. Fine now. For the best.”
“I agree,” Harry moves around the table to stand where I am. My heart pulses just like it always does around him. He rests a hand on my hip, dragging it up to wrap around my waist. He must feel how hard my heart’s beating. “Did I tell you? That I love you?”
“Maybe?” I feel myself growing more present. The hole that always lived inside of me growing even smaller in this moment. It allows me to settle on the floor better; less air, more weight.
“Well I do. I love you. At 17, or at 35.” He says this with a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth.
“Well. I love you.” I return the kiss, relish in the way his hand grips my tank. “At 17, or 35.”
“Sometimes I wish I held on tighter at 17. But I look at you now and I’m excited to get to know you again.”
His words pour over me like honey. It was sweet we were still on the same page.
“I’m not letting you go this time.” Harry whispers in my ear. He pulls me in tight, swaying from side to side. “I want to spend 41 and 50 with you. I want all of you, every side.”
“Perfect,” I peer up at him. “That’s exactly what I want too.”
“And maybe one day,” he continues in a hush voice. “We’ll get a call from a young girl. She’ll tell us all about her life in a town up north. About a picture she has of her mother dressed like her father and her father dressed like her mother.”
“She’ll tell us she’s had a good life, and she’s thought about the people in the picture. She’d tell us she wants to meet them.”
“We would be able to show her the love we kept for her. Our love’s like a venn diagram, the bit in the middle is just for her. She’d know why she was born in the first place.”
“Closure,” I whisper to him. “We would know closure.”
I remember the day she was taken, how the loss of not even being able to see her felt bigger than the loss of her itself back then.
I think of a 17 year old girl, with green eyes and brown hair. With my smile and Harry’s dimples. My hands, and Harry’s height. She was loved by people, families, that she didn’t even know existed yet.
They say if you love something, let it go. If it’s meant to be it’ll come back.
As Harry and I stay intertwined in the kitchen of my flat, I send out a wish into the universe for her like I did most days. That she was healthy, happy, and one day curious enough to seek us out. That one day, she would come back.
Right now I focus on the man in my arms. The one I never thought I’d get to hold again. For now this was all I needed. I’d loved him, let him go, and after so many years apart, we were back.
