Hucklerobby who became official just before Robby went on his sabbatical (which he had offered to cancel and Dennis firmly told him absolutely not and then he offered for Dennis to come along to which the entire emergency department said absolutely fucking not).
Dennis still hanging around Robby’s house taking in his mail, watering his flowers, drinking all of his wine.. he’s having a great time, honestly.
Robby’s used to Dennis’ late night phone calls since he’s left. They talk about anything and everything, sometimes even just falling asleep to the sound of each other’s breath.
It was basically a routine, so, of course when Robby gets the phone call while he’s halfway to Canada, he picks up it with no hesitation.
“Hey, Den,” he says as he sorts through his bag. He found a cheap motel to cozy up in for the night, planning to rest himself before continuing his trip tomorrow. “How’s it going?”
He can hear small breaths on the other line and something like the sounds of pages shuffling. “Den?” He tried. He goes to speak again, but is cut off by the sound of a loud sob.
His heart drops and he releases the shirt he had in his hand, body stiffen at the noise. “Dennis, what’s wrong? Is everything alright?”
Robby is nearly ready to put all his stuff back into his duffle bag and ride himself back to Pittsburgh. He hears Dennis cough out another sob, unintelligible words mixing with the cry.
“What’d you say, baby?” Robby tried coaxing the words out of him, the sounds of his hiccuping boyfriend making his heart break.
Robby hears Dennis sniffle a coupe of times as he collects himself. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Dennis finally gives voice weak and slurred.
“Tell you what, sweetheart?” Robby wracks his mind, trying to figure out what Dennis could possible be talking about. Did Jack tell him something? Did Dana tell him something? God forbid any of his miscellaneous exes tried to weasel their way back into Robby’s life.
Dennis sniffled a few more times on the other line and robby could hear the bit of phlegm getting stuck in the back of his throat.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were so cute?”
Robby stopped in his tracks, eyebrows furrowing in intense confusion. “What?”
“You were so little, *sniff*, nothing had hurt you, just a little boy,” the end of his sentence got caught in his throat as Dennis started crying again.
“Den, what are you talking about?” Robby couldn’t be more confused to what was happening. His body was still shuffling between fight and flight, unsure of where his brain needed to go in this moment.
“All of your baby pictures, I found them. Under the table in the office. You were so, so, so cute. You still are so cute. So hot. But you’re just a baby, and is this your Bubbe? Oh, god, I can’t stop it,”
As the picture started forming in his mind, slowly pieceing together his words and the picture of the 14% Cabernet Dennis sent a picture of earlier, Robby relaxed a bit and a small smile started forming on his face.
“You found all my old picture albums?” Robby moved over to lay on the bed, relaxing as he prepped to talk Dennis through his breakdown.
“Mhmm,” the boy murmured. Robby heard a few more pages shuffling. “I’ve never seen these before. I’m starting at the beginning, I’m gonna watch you live,”
Robby barked out a laugh. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah,” the gurgle in his voice made his chest squeeze tight. “I saw a sneak peak of you in med school. You were so fine, fuck, so was Doctor Abbot,”
“Hey, I thought this was about me?”
“Oh, Robby it’s always about you,” Dennis whispered on the other line. “Always,”
“You’re a sweet boy, Dennis,” he told him, smiling into his phone. “How much wine have you had?”
Suddenly the noise on the other line stopped and Robby would’ve thought he got hung up on if it wasn’t for the heavy breathing. “Um, none?”
“You don’t sound so sure of that, sweetheart,”
“Okay, maybe like… the whole thing?”
“Sheesh, baby boy, you’re gonna be cursing yourself tomorrow,” Robby said with a sharp inhale.
“Maybe I’ll cry it all out, then I’ll be fine,” Dennis said.
“Yeah, maybe,” Robby shook his head with a smile, rubbing his hand over his face. “You gonna be alright by yourself tonight?”
“Yeah,” he muttered out, weak and tearful.
“You sure? You want me to give Trinity a call?”
“God, no! She’d never let me live this down. I promise I’m okay, Robby,”
Robby didn’t respond for a second and let them sit in silence, the sound of turning pages and small sniffles almost luring him into a sleep.
“Alright, you have fun looking at all your pictures, yeah? Don’t forget to drink some water and not vomit all over my office,”
“Okay, promise,”
“Thanks, angel. Call me tomorrow?”
“Mhm,”
“Good, have a good night, baby,”
“You too, Robby,”
Robby sighed as he hung up the phone, laughing to himself at his charming boyfriend. He wasn’t surprised at all to wake up to a plethora of message both from last night and this morning.
12:24 AM
robby SHUT UP!!
*image*
you were the cutest thing ever, I’m literally gonna die
1:53 AM
omg awkward middle school phase robby im dying
*image*
2:23 AM
wait, you guys knew dana too????!!!! i think i need to be sandwiched between u three oh goddddddd
*4 images*
2:40 AM
taking this picture of you and jack with me btw. lowkey in love
did the "eyes of our headmates" thing we saw somewhere around here!! sorry for not being able to credit anyone rn, i genuinely cannot remember when i saw this concept, where, by who, or how long its even been. excuse me 🫡
hello my lovies! THANK YOU for all the love on promises (which is part one to this story). i'm so happy you love it as much as i do - it is all for you to enjoy. here is the highly, highly requested part two. highly recommend listening to sweet creature while you read. enjoy x
pairing: harry x reader
word count: ~2,200
warnings: all fluff... + some mention of sex
ps. sorry in advance to all of you named emily, it's not personal ;)
Groggy and blinking away the sleep from your eyes, your arm instinctively pats the area to your right in search of his warmth - hoping to feel his firm chest, or if you missed it, his face, mouth agape in a state of slumber. You got neither of it though. The sheets were awfully cold, not even a dip in the bed to tell you he’d just gotten up ahead of you. That’s when you recalled the events that transpired last night, eyes squeezing shut in agony as they replayed in your head.
You hadn’t slept well, of course. What you said last night wasn’t just in the heat of the moment - the last time he released an album, you hadn’t settled down in your work and weren’t tied down to anything. Wherever he went, you followed. This time was different though, you had your own dreams to chase. Unlike what most of the media thinks, your goal in life isn’t just to watch him succeed. You wanted to, too.
Reaching over to pick your phone up, your heart sunk a little seeing a message from Harry. He wasn’t much of a texting guy, he much preferred short phone calls where he’d get to hear your voice loving on him and tell you just how much he loved you straight from his mouth. Your finger hovered over the play button. The message could’ve been anything, you thought. He could’ve broken up with you right there in that message, and you grappled with the idea of that being a possibility. But he’d never do that to you – and if there was one thing you were confident about, it was that Harry Styles would never break up with you over text.
H ♥
🎵 Audio message
“I say we just go with what we have right now, H - it sounds good,” you heard Mitch’s voice speak softly in the background. “No, has to be perfect, Mitch… S’ just missing something,” there he was, and you could just imagine him shaking his head, the almost inaudible sound of his pen tapping against his notebook a telling sign that they were in the studio.
“… You bring me home. Wherever I go – and I want the next one t’ be something like,” he hums to the chorus of Sweet Creature - one of your favourite songs. “When I– when I run out of road…” he croons quietly, as if slowly putting the pieces together. “You bring me home.”
“Fuck, man – that’s the one,” he breathes out, and you can picture him smiling, dimple on full display, quickly scribbling the lyrics down. “She’ll love it H, don’t you worry. Y/N adores anything you make, even if you write about anything or anyone else.”
“No, I know. Just want it t’ be good, you know how much she means to me… Never been able to put it into words before this.”
Tears pooled in your eyes, threatening to spill as you reached the end of the recording. You never assumed the song was about you, and strangely enough, you’d never asked. He thought you did, considering how much you loved it, and you just never discussed it. Putting your phone down, you made your way to your shared bedroom, the door slightly ajar so you could peek in. He wasn’t there.
The lack of any music in the home reaffirmed that it was just you around. Walking over to the living room, you almost burst into tears seeing an all-too-familiar banana walnut muffin on the coffee table, sat perfectly next to a bright pink sticky note. It was your favourite from the little coffee shop down the road where the old ladies loved greeting Harry and yourself by mimicking the sound of wedding bells.
‘Put on a warm coat. You know where to find me. x H’
You used to do this all the time on lazy Saturday mornings together. Pop by that coffee shop, buy banana walnut muffins and your morning coffee - a little sweeter on the weekends, just because. He’d already have his juice in hand, made fresh himself. You’d then sit on your beloved park bench, the one with flowers growing out the cracks in the stone, and watch the world go by for an hour or two. Of course you knew where to find him. It was the place where you talked about falling in love, dreamt of the future and pondered over what names your kids would have. He hoped meeting you there would remind you of everything you’d envisioned together.
Bundled up in a blue coat and that mohair sweater he loved to death, you spotted him instantly. He looked tense, fingers grabbing onto the seat of the bench, eyes scanning the entrances of the park to make sure he didn’t miss you. You could see him relax a little once he saw you, his right hand lifting into the air to wave you over. He even offered you a small, timid smile. Didn’t seem like he got much sleep either, his eyes a little droopy and tired, skin looking more dull than usual.
“Hi, my love,” he greeted you, getting up to press a gentle kiss to your cheek. You gave him a small hello, cheeks rosy from his kiss. For once, you were grateful that the cold nipped at your skin and concealed the fact that you blushed at the contact. “Sit, please.”
“So, let me start – questions at the end, okay?” he took your hands in his once you were both sat down, his left leg bent so he could sit facing you. You were cross-legged, like you always were. “I disappointed you, and I know that’s one of the worst feelings in the world. Thought ‘bout what you said last night a whole lot… It’s been hard on you and I can’t change what’s happened. In a couple months I’ll be away again and it’s different now - you love what you do, and I can’t just have you up and leave for me.”
“As much as we’re in this together, you have your own life that I won’t ask you to put on hold for me. It really all boils down to me, my love… I have to do better. Like you said, promises aren’t any good if I can’t keep them, but I’m not promising this time. M’ swearing on my life, this is all I’ve ever wanted. No matter what I do, as long as I come home to you - so I swear, m’ love, whatever it takes. I know it’s hard to trust me, and I don’t deserve it, but I will do everything in my power to make this work.”
“I– I don’t know what to say, H… I see all of it with you too, everything we’ve spoken about. It’s just so much harder when I have to keep reminding myself that you’re in this with me when you’re never around. This morning, that recording… You never told me about that,” you began, looking down at your hands wrapped perfectly in his. He wore none of his rings, his fingers bare and warming up your own. “It was awfully sweet, H… I just wish you felt like that every single day.”
His eyebrows furrowed upon hearing that and he felt like he could throw up from how terrible that made him feel, almost like his insides were being stirred and knotted up. He’d made you question if he even loved you in the first place, and he couldn’t believe it.
“My love, y’ know, that song… Spent so many nights trying to figure it out. I’d decided that run in the studio would be the last time I tried to work that one out because I loved the melody so much, but it was just so hard to get it just how I wanted it. And I knew you’d love it too – you’re always listening to these mellow types of tunes at home,” he explained, his thumbs rubbing little circles on the back of your hands. “Don’t know if you remember this, but we were in Malibu and we’d decided to take a leisurely drive to nowhere the day before this studio session. Drove down to a random spot along the beach and jus’ sat there talking about anything and everything for a good three hours.”
“Remember m’ friend from home called to tell me ‘bout one of my favourite teachers growing up who’d gotten sick that morning? I was jus’ a proper mess… Felt so disconnected from everything then, and so afraid that people back home would think I’d forgotten about them. You jus’ sat there and listened t’ me talk about all of my worries, held my hand and all that… Reminded me I can’t boil the ocean, or one of those quotes you always like to use on doing stuff within your limits. And we got to talking ‘bout the future, what that looked like for us – never felt more sure that I wanted to make all of that come true with anyone else.”
“You always have this way of breaking things down and making everything so much clearer, even when it comes to the big, scary things… Like reconciling with the past, stressing about the future, or thinking about what comes after. You keep my feet on the ground through it all, m’ love. When we went into the studio the next day, it just fell into place. I’d always wanted the song to be ‘bout you and I could never put everything I wanted to say to you in just a couple of lines. Just thinking about what you said, how you broke it all apart so easily – you said something about not having t’ do everything all at once, and I realised I didn’t have to do that with this song. It was still, of course, for you, but I didn’t have to say everything just then, just what I wanted to in that moment. I think about you every moment of each day, my love… I don’t think I could ever love someone more. M’ sorry I’ve ever made you think otherwise, I really am, and I’ll spend my whole life making up for it.”
You felt your nose get runny and it was suddenly a little hard to breathe. He’d always been such a sweet man, you had a hard time believing it was difficult for him to pen down love songs when he expressed his admiration for you so eloquently. “You don’t have to, H. Trust me, I believe you,” you sighed, feeling his hands cup your face to wipe at the tears brimming in your eyes. “We just need to work on this together, okay? You have to make an effort to call, or just send a text, no matter how busy you are. Just let me know you’re okay, and that we can talk later. That’s all I ask, especially when you’re away. I can’t have you disappear on me, when a text or call is all I have. Not to mention you're awful at video calls, I always feel like I'm talking to a grandpa.”
He nods, stretching his arms out and pulling you in gently. Adjusting yourself, you let your back rest against him, almost lying in his lap. “If you vanish, what’s gonna happen to our kids?”
He lets out a little chuckle at your stupid joke. Only you could say something like this in a moment of vulnerability to make it go over easier. “I know, baby. Emmie and Ezzie can’t grow up without a dad.”
“Emily is a terrible name, babe,” you spat back, rolling your eyes at the thought of the last conversation you had on this bench when he’d decided that Emily was definitely going in his top five favourite baby names. “It’s beautiful, Y/N – I can’t believe we disagree on this.”
“Beautifully boring, you mean,” you couldn’t help but smile at this stupid conversation as his fingers combed through your hair. “Can you please not forget how much you hated Emily in Paris?” All the nights you spent together watching that trashy Netflix series made you grow disdainful towards Lily Collins’ character, though you both loved just how much you hated that show. It was terrible in all the best ways.
“Well, I want it to have a nice ring to it, my love… Has to sound good.”
“Well then, I want to have a nice ring,” you raised your left hand, wiggling your fingers in his face. “Don’t forget who decides whether your kids are eaten or given the chance to live.”
He almost chokes hearing you speak, his mind slowly slipping away to relive moments where you sat in front of him with a little of his load dribbling down your chin… You had him wrapped tightly around your finger, and you didn’t even know it.
“I’ll take my chances,” He shrugs, looking down at you with the goofiest grin you’d ever seen on his face. “Something tells me make-up sex is on the cards.”
You hit his face playfully - and gently, lest there were cameras lurking - feeling unbelievably blissful in that moment with a renewed sense of determination to make things work out between the two of you. You couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else, either.
