"Kinda feeling an angsty, lengthy piece, where Harry is super stressed from jumping between meetings and calls. He’s pissed at the people he works with, more than usual, and when Y/N keeps occasionally talking to him, that frustration builds, until he kinda just snaps and tells her to shut the fuck up🥲 “God, I hate it when you can’t stop rambling!” Kind of vibes.
And he instantly goes “oh shit” mentally because he just yelled at her? His girl? Over something that he’s actually always found very endearing about her?"
tw: shouting, swearing ; word count: ~2.1k
Back and forth. Forth to back. On and on and on about things he could quite frankly not care less about. God, these meetings seemed never-ending, Harry huffed. He brushed his fingers through his cropped hair that still held the small remains of the once tight, long, bouncy curls. They would have just got in his way now, he thought, rubbing his forehead in an attempt at dissolving the headache forming. To no avail.
He sighed, moving spreadsheets across tabs as he prepared for another gruelling hour-long meeting with people who he had no patience for. He believed that his office was solely chosen to hold some of the most difficult people on planet Earth, whether it be due to their lateness, (and lack of care for), rudeness, laziness...the list went on. It deeply frustrated him, and he wondered what he had done to deserve these excuse for colleagues.
He's not usually like this. Harry knows he is normally the kindest he can be, and does his best to treat everyone with respect and love. It comes naturally to him, but with these people, it feels so forced it physically pains him. These people have no respect to give, let alone receive.
He rubbed his eyes and clicked on to the day's third meeting with an exaggerated release of air. He plastered a broad smile as he noticed his face appearing on the bottom right corner of the screen, as around 6 others surrounded him on the top bar.
"Hey, everyone." He forced out in the most joyous tone he possibly could, waving briefly before preparing his notes at his side.
"Harry, thanks for joining us. We thought you wouldn't make it on here." The director of the project snorted smugly.
Harry looked puzzled. "I'm sorry?"
The director, whose name was Keith, Harry recalled, laughed abruptly. "Well, uh...you are 15 minutes late."
Harry paused. He looked at the glaring faces on the screen before him, awkwardly rubbing their necks or looking elsewhere. Shit.
"Oh, I-I'm so sorry- I must have had the time as 2.45, not 2.30. My apologies, everyone." He mustered, through gritted teeth. He swore on his life the email said 2.45, making a mental note to check this.
"Oh, well it did. Last minute change 'cause I've got to meet with someone at 3.30. Personal business, hoped you'd understand."
Fucking dick. After all he's been doing today, he's meant to check an email, what, every five mnutes just because Keith The Prick wants to conduct some "Personal business" instead of doing his job? Bullshit.
Harry paused for a moment, nodding to pretend he was offering respect. "Of course. Terribly sor-" He was abruptly cut off by the sound of singing coming from another room. It was you.
You were singing at the top of your lungs, some song from The 1975, Harry realised. Any other time, this would make his day, now he's too frustrated to like it. The noise was overpowering whatever he needed to say, and the music was blasting from your Amazon Alexa. Harry closed his eyes, trying to retain composure.
"One moment, sorry." He muted himself promptly.
He yelled your name, leavig no attempt to care for how loud he was being, he was muted after all. "I'm on a call!" The music ceased, and he heard a muffled sorry from the other room.
You instantly paused your movements, not wanting upset your boyfriend further. He was probably having a busy day, you thought, collecting the washing and separating it into its piles. You'd chat to him in 15, maybe that would make him feel better.
He resumed the call, sighing and hoping to get this over with as soon as physically possible.
When it ended, Harry clicked that red phone button as fast as his fingers could move, not wanting to lose momentum and quickly moving to the next task. He glanced over his notes from the meeting and opened a Word document, getting straight to typing.
Suddenly, his office door swung open as you came in, all smiles. "Harry! Sorry for the singing! You know I love that song. You know they're playing Reading this year? I wonder if we could go, I never got to go when my exams finished, ugh it was so horrible seeing all my friends go without me! Anywho, we could probably do that payment plan they offer, wouldn't that be great?" You beamed, laying out your stack of hoodies on the small sofa adjacent to his desk.
"Sounds great." he quipped, eyes still fixed on the screen. He really did not have time for this conversation after today, and felt an impending sense of guilt in his stomach for doing so, but sometimes you're allowed to be in a mood. He wished you would leave soon to avoid any issues.
You frowned briefly, shrugging off his tone. It couldn't be anything you've done, after all.
"Doesn't it just! I love camping, but it's okay if you dont we could even book one of those VIP tents! That would be wicked, imagine that! Hopefully it wouldn't be too hot, I mean look at the weather last year for that festival! It was on the news given how bloody hot it was! I don't know if I could handle that, but I'm sure we'd be all good f we just prepared right. Oh, and I'd need to get merch..." Your voice spun round in is head, drawing his mind away from the task at hand. This was going to be very difficult. His frustration was only building more and more and he could feel his headache worsening by the minute.
"Have you seen the video of them at Glastonbury? My god, they looked amazing, especially that lead singer, isn't he just so cool! That rockstar life must be so crazy, I mean imagine you never had a normal job like you're stuck in an office and INSTEAD you just toured and toured-"
"God, I hate it when you can't stop rambling! Can't you see I'm trying to work?" Harry spun around in his chair out of nowhere, cutting you off immediately. His eyes were harsh and cold, his fists clenched by his sides, sitting on the armrests. His eyes bore into your soul, stopping you in your tracks in a way you hadn't even experienced before. He'd never said anything like that to you.
Your jaw sat agape, unsure how to form words.
His, also, loosened, eyes widening as he took into account what he'd said.
"Sweetheart, I didn't mea-"
You ended his sentence for him. "No, that's okay. I'll get out of your way." You took a deep breath, turning around, getting ready to close the door behind you.
"No, it's not okay, please-" He stood up sharply and put his hand between the gap in the door.
"Don't. Drop it. Please don't follow me, Harry." You don't face him as you feel the tears welling up in your eyes. You hadn't meant to upset him, but now he's upset you.
He stopped short, dropping his hand and taking a step back. Shit.
He ran his hands through his hair, collecting his thoughts at an incredibly fast rate. How could be have just said that? What a horrible, unkind thing to say to you, his beautiful, loving girl, who he would never let anything bad happen to? The guilt settled in his chest and stomach, a completely uncomfortable and unwelcome feeling.
But he loves it when you talk. He could listen to you talk all day. About anything you liked. He knows he already has spent days doing so, and he hopes to do so endlessly. What if this damages your freedom to feel like you can do so? He gulped, the anxiety of his words settling in further and further.
Despite this, you told him not to follow you. He knows he should respect your wishes, though it pains him to do so. Meeting you halfway, he let you leave, and turned on his Out Of Office.
A gear switched in Harry's brain, causing him to hastily push all of his work to the side, and get set on fixing this.
He preheated the oven, preparing ingredients on the countertop and putting on an apron.
His brows furrowed as he studied the instructions for your favourite dessert, ring-brandished fingers pressing into the pages as he analysed every word with precision.
After some time, it was ready. Laid out neatly on the kitchen side as neatly as he possibly could, a singular silver spoon sat readily beside the food. Just the one. He knew this should only be only meant for you.
He stepped back and took in the display. Something was missing.
He scanned the room for a notepad and pen, locating a floral to do list. Harry's handwriting wasn't always the best, but he made a very strong attempt at perfecting this. He planted it softly next to the spoon.
'Please never stop talking. I love to hear your voice. I love YOU. -H'
It wasn't enough, but it was all he thought to be acceptable for the moment. He left the scene, deciding to sit on the balcony until you returned.
Your keys clicked into the door and you shrugged off your jacket with a silent sadness. You had certainly calmed down, but unpleasant thoughts still lingered in the back of your mind.
What if you did talk too much? Were you that much of a burden to him? Maybe he deserved some peace and quiet. Maybe you should stay somewhere else tonight, let him have that. It was unfair, if you were overbearing, one voice said. It overpowered any other in your head that was set on defending you.
You hooked your tote bag in its usual place, next to Harry's David Hockney one, and made your way slowly to the kitchen to make a much needed cup of tea. You decided you'd only make one before you even entered the room.
The dessert was laid out before you, and your eyes didn't allow your brain time to register it. You simply travelled straight towards it, exhaustion and hunger taking over.
You glanced at the scene, catching sight of the note beside the tiny spoon. As you read over it, your vision blurred yet again. A brief sense of relief washed over you.
This was until you began to look around the room and allow yourself to search for any sight of sound of Harry. What if he had left for the night? You weren't sure if you wanted to be alone tonight. But maybe that's what he wanted.
You finished making your tea and picked up your dessert, stepping lightly towards the balcony for some fresh air. And that's where he was.
Harry was standing, leaning against the balcony rail and gazing into the London skyline. His breath was shallow and short, his fingers tapped uneasily on the glass in front of him. When he heard the door open behind him, he shot up from his slumped position.
You set your tea and bowl down on the small table beside you, noticing how he was watching your every move.
You straightened up, looking at him briefly before you both opened your mouth to speak.
"Thank you-"
"I'm sorry-"
You both paused, letting out a short, genuine laugh. Harry smiled softly.
"I'm sorry." He took a single step towards you. "I would never in a million years have meant that. I need you to know that." He stopped for reassurance, tilting his head towards you. You nodded softly.
"I could never hate anything about you. Especially not that. I could talk to you and listen to you talk all day, all year, for the rest of my life. Nothing should come between that. Nothing else should come first. You should always come first. You always come first." He rubbed his eyes, reflecting on his shame.
He doesn't then reopen his eyes to look at you, so you begin to take careful steps towards him, so softly he can't hear you. But then he felt your arms snake around his neck, pulling him into you.
"We say stupid things when we're angry." You muttered into the side of his neck as he responds by hooking his arms around your sides. "Doesn't make it okay, but we're not perfect."
"You're perfect, though." He added, leaning his head into yours.
"Far from it." You laughed.
He sighed, releasing you to plant a kiss on your forehead. "I'm sorry. I will never do something like that again. You'd never deserve that, and I don't expect you to forgive-"
His sentence is left unfinished as you took him in a kiss.
"Let that be the only way you shut me up." You pointed at him sternly. He nods, dazed.
"I love you." Harry said softly, gazing at you through his eyelashes.
"I love you too." You replied with a smile, running your fingers through the back of his hair.
And here, you thought,
We'll be alright.
HELLOOOO this is officially my first Harry fic hooray!!! I've come such a long way from reading duplicity at the ripe age of 13...Thank you to @whoopsieismelldaisies for this amazing prompt! I'll most likely edit this later to lengthen it or sonething, I literally wrote this in a whole day lol i really hope I did it justice :) plz be sure to like, reblog and follow, and let me know if you would like to be added to my taglist for any/all fics!
We’ve heard concerns from some fans regarding sightline obstructions on the floor. We want every person in the room to have the best experience possible, and we are actively working on making adjustments to improve visibility, while keeping everyone’s safety a priority.
Beginning Friday, the front bridges will be altered in Amsterdam and London. For future venues we are working as quickly as possible to make adjustments that also fit within safety code & local compliance. In the meantime, temporary barricade adjustments have been made to the left & right front GA pits for tonight’s show to improve stage visibility.
Thank you for your patience, understanding, and being part of Together, Together with us.
