Despite being a member of royal family Solstice, you were never destined for greatness. Instead, that honor was given to the next in line for the throne: your brother, Atlas. Feelings of jealously, inferiority, and anxiety grew as years past, until they became too much to bear. Wanting to prove yourself, you aim to become a knight in the Dominion of Solis' capital city's army.
However, with no prior combat experience, your Father assigns the best knight to train you: Grand Knight Ramon Dayore. He's a stoic man who's scratched and clawed his way to the top. However, his experiences have made him close off his heart.
Will you be able to open the door to his heart, and help him love again?
Content Warning
Due to the sexual content featured in this title, Your Blade, My Heart is meant for players 18 years or older.
This game also contains the following content...
Anxiety and panic attacks
Mentions of death
Grief
Features
💜 40k words
💜 Option to self-insert or play as the canon protagonist, Princess Lysandra Solstice (She/Her)
💜 Name input, pronoun selection, select body type, select everyday attire (feminine, masculine, gender ambiguous) and the history behind that
💜 A lot of flavor choices! Seriously, this is what happens when you're a writer hopped up on Dr Pepper...
💜 Determine the intimacy scene you have with Ramon! Spicy fade to black where you're on top or bottom, or a fluffy cuddle session~
💜 6 CGs (+2 cut-ins) with the option to unlock the spicy intimacy CGs if you decide to choose the cuddle/fluff intimacy scene first! This is for anyone who may be sex-repulsed or is just uncomfortable with those kinds of scenes!
💜 A very handsome demisexual knight and a cute slowburn romance story written by an asexual woman :3
You can download the game right now on PC, Linux, Mac, and Android from itchio!
Just a PSA that I wrote this little fic over the summer and it means a lot to me sooo if you’re looking for something sappy, maybe give her a read. I’ll be forever grateful 💗
The only thing Alani has wanted since she was old enough to read Rolling Stone was to travel the world and write about the music that she loved so dearly. But just when it seemed like it was time to set her course on a new dream, golden boy on the rise Harry Styles—freshly split from his world-famous boyband—washes up in her family café to change life as she knows it. Will Alani let old dreams overshadow new flames, or can some mistakes be re-written? A story about love, loss, and looking to belong.
loosely inspired by this song (and all of hs1 in general) ♡
Part 19 of You Bring Me Home, a Harry Styles series. Parts will not be uploaded in chronological order, but all belong to the same storyline. You can find all the Chapter Names and any previous content to the plot here.
chapter xix. “you can tell her now”
The radio had been playing softly in the car as he remained quiet, your nervous rambling complementing his listening ears, keeping his own giddiness at bay since he knew how nervous you were for the sudden eruption of reactions you were sure to receive from his family that night. They had previously welcomed you in with open arms, and immediately made you feel at home in their company. But now, rather than your kindness, love for their harry, and a wicked sense of humour and compassion, you had something else to bring to the family - a new member, nestled between your hips and growing more and more each day. The reason for yours and harry’s sublime happiness over the past months.
The car was still heading down the street as you continued to ramble on.
“Your mum w-”
“will be over the moon”
“And Gemma-”
“will try and kidnap them the moment they’re born. They love you, I love you.” he’d smiled, putting his hand on your tummy, covering the whole thing. “We love you”.
The cold december breeze had been somewhat welcome after a much too humid autumn. However now, as it swept through the pathway leading to a kind, friendly home which you and Harry knew so fondly, it was pushing into your lungs a new type of air, mixing with excitement, nerves, and anticipation all at once.
Harry rings the bell, his sleeve rolling up inside his coat. You’re wearing a sweater too - it had come to be the perfect climate to keep the gradual swell of your stomach hidden and safely warm, tucked away from the heavy wind and rain which had been storming down in London the past week. You smile and tear up, something which Harry quickly has to address, otherwise the game will be up from the moment you set foot into his mother’s home.
“Darling,” Harry smiles “Theres nothing to be worried about, especially with Mum. You said it yourself, we can definitely tell her now. We’re past any possible complications, and it’s not like they’re going to view you differently just because they’ll now know that we’ve...yeh know...”. He smirks as you hear shuffling behind the door coming from inside the house.
“Harry! You can’t tell me they don’t know anything of the kind when your own sister caught us in your room last easter! We were meant to be at church, and instead we were-”
“Sinning, hmmm yes, tut tut. Shame we can’t be that way with this one on the way” he grins and you roll your eyes “I suppose after tonight we’ll have to try our best to be sensible. Set a good example an’ that. ”
“Don’t make me laugh, Styles”
“Don’t be so nervous, Mrs Styles. it won’t be doing the baby any good.”
You’re about to kiss him for calling you out by your married name - his name - when the door opens briskly.
“Harry, y/n! you’re early! Oh- and you brought wine! You can definitely come in now!”
Coats are shrugged off, and Harry helps you out of yours, squeezing your hand in reassurance. The house is lit with a soft warm lighting, candles at various points of the living areas, and the smell of a delicious roast cooking in the oven, browning and crisping up nicely for all of you to eat.
Anne hugs you first, thanking you for the wine, and embraces harry afterwards with a sweet kiss planted on the cheek of her sweet boy, who is still just as smitten with his girl, she notes. Even after 7 years, the two of you were just as in love as ever before.
The dinner is announced to be ready soon, and there’s discussion about plans and anniversaries. Harry is quick to pipe up there; “well if we can make it to 4 we’ll be doing well- heyyy!” He stops his jokes as you’d given him a rightful but teasing slap across the chest.
Dinner is served, and the inevitable occurs. Gemma’s suggestion of; “Hey we should open the wine!” makes you look at Harry with evil eyes. You knew this was going to happen and yet he had insisted that it wouldn’t and that he’d be able to divert the conversation onto something that wouldn't give your secret entirely away before the end of the night. After all, you've been keeping it for over a 6 weeks now - to spoil the last hour or so would just not be right.
And yet here he is, watching Gemma pour you a glass of red wine since you’d had to choke down a “no, i really can’t” to replace it with a weakly worded “yeah, sure”, as he pulls a face, knowing that he regrets his feeble if not lack of attempt in stopping the situation.
You both quickly focus back to the reality of your conversations, chatting away about music and your new home and the possibility of having New Years Eve at yours’ and Harry’s, since christmas was to be at Gemma’s. You don’t dare touch your wine, feigning sips to make it look as though nothing is suspicious. Harry watches these sips like a hawk, wondering what you’re doing - praying you’re not actually drinking.
it’s when he’s watching you around his family that he smiles, and remember that now is a happy time. He should’t need to worry. He’s going to be a dad. Come this summer he’s going to be a daddy and he hasn't told a single soul, not even his own mother.
And now he could.
“I’m sorry, i...i can’t do this anymore”. Harry shakes his head and stands from his place at the table.
“Whats wrong H? What can’t you do?” the murmurs from the table conversations have stopped as Gemma asks the questions now on everyone’s lips.
“Everything okay Harry? Has something happened?” Anne questions sincerely.
He looks over and you, and immediately, you know.
“Harry, you’re saying this now?” you whisper through your teeth because you’d both established a plan, late one night among organising other things baby related, to make sure that both you and him were going to be comfortable with the announcement of the impending Baby Styles.
The table remains silent, bar Anne’s friend Susanne, who had joined you all for the evening. Notably a hardly subtle woman who quickly rushes out her first thought, she has no intention of holding back in this situation.
“You’re not divorcing are you?!”
Everything stops. Even Gemma puts down her wine. Anne looks as though she’s about to faint. They’re all giving you both a look, shock being the first one you register, right after you realise that your lives are now officially going to change forever, and you’re going to change the lives of everyone in the room too.
“Eh, we’d like to hope not. Actually let’s not even joke about that. Come here love” Harry tries a laugh but the nerves in his throat have come back to haunt him and as he asks you to stand with him, you can see his hands shaking.
You stand and he shuffles next to you so that you’re both facing a captive audience, only minutes ago dipping into snacks and enjoying merry banter with each other. A stoney silence fills the room, somewhat in a claustrophobic manner. You feel his hand sneak round your back and hold onto your hip.
Someone gasps.
“I...I could barely wait until Christmas, so we decided to tell you tonight, although it was meant to be after dinner...i just....we can’t put this off anymore, i’m sorry love.” He turns to you and smiles apologetically, but he knows that you would never be mad at him for being this excited. His other hand moves across both your bodies, to land on your stomach. The slight swell warms at his touch.
He stops, almost as if he’s waiting for your approval, or you to speak first. His attention is on you, yet his eyes quickly dart to his mum every few seconds. it feels like hours and the attention is making your cheeks blush a pinky red.
“You can tell her now, H” you smile, more confidently as you find yourself looking at Anne too, and wondering why you had ever been nervous in the first place once you realised that this woman meant so much to you, and loved you as if you were one of her own.
“Well then” he begins his announcement, “My beautiful wife here, is expecting our first child in the summertime. We’re having a baby!” His hand reaches for your stomach once more as he smiles and pulls you in to give you a kiss as the reactions of your closest family and friends raise the roof in the form of shrieks of excitement and tears of joy. You pull away from his soft, sweet, thankful kiss and notice tears of your own, mirrored in his eyes, glazed with their own happiness.
‘Oh my god! You’re pregnant?!” Gemma stands up and shakes off the relief she felt after learning of the not-terrible news they were expecting to hear. Everyone gathers around you to hug, Harry being mindful that no one goes touching you on the stomach, as anyone but him doing so makes you feel uncomfortable.
Anne is still sitting in her place, watching the exchanges of laughter, as happy tears trickle down her face. Her son catches sight and stops in his tracks to quickly tend to her, pulling her into a tight embrace and feeling her smile wrap around him as she presses a quick kiss to his cheek.
The murmur of “so proud” is something he picks up and he faces her again, looking into her eyes. “Yeh gonna be a granny, Nana Anne, if yeh want.”
“And you- I mean, the baby...you’re at a safe time to tell people? I’m so happy for you both, I’m so glad you kept trying.” She hugs him again and again, so happy that she soon becomes speechless. You fumble out of the mass cuddles to embrace her too.
“But you brought wine!” she exclaims, still overwhelmed about the fact that her baby is going to have a baby. “I never- I mean I hoped it would be soon but- may i?” she asks, gesturing to your tummy. Harry is about to butt in with his usual warning that; “eh she’s not that comfy with that” until he hears you reply with a quick yes, not holding back at all as Anne reaches out for the swell that holds her first grandchild.
“Oh yes i can feel that little bump...how far along are you?”
Harry knows this answer like the back of his hand. He only makes a note of it every single day since you found out.
“12 weeks and 2 days. Due in July...” Harry’s hand reaches out to the small of her back and she feels the added support around the bump and relaxes into his touch.
“Well i am so proud and happy for you both, i think this might be the longest and biggest secret Harry’s ever kept from me.” He feels a bit embarrassed as you laugh, but as he looks down at you glowing, the happiest he’s seen you in a long time, he decides that he really, really doesn’t care.
You sleep on the way home, a soft comforter given to you from Anne that was Harry’s first baby blanket and it makes you smile that already your baby is so loved by their family. The blanket is wrapped around your middle and pulled up to allow the softness to rub against your face, easing your tired soul.
Harry looks at you wrapped up in the blanket he remembers fondly from his childhood, driving carefully, careful to avoid potholes and noisy areas on the 10 mile trip home. The moon washes over your good side, and the blanket is doing a good job keeping you and the baby warm. He places a hand on yours which is clinging to his blanket and protecting your tummy. With a light, quiet and soft squeeze of reassurance, he holds your hand if but for a moment, as he reels with joy, overwhelmed once more, by the exhilarating reality that he’s going to be a father.
Alex being so afraid to hold Emily’s niece, because she’s so tiny and fragile and oh god why had he agreed to help Emily babysit her tonight?
And Emily is so sweet. She’s already so maternal and lovely, and watching her with this baby does something to Alex that he can’t quite explain. Especially when she looks up at him from her spot on the couch and smiles. “Want to hold her?”
Alex instinctively takes a step back and shakes his head. “S’okay.”
And Emily only giggles. “Alex she’s not a bomb. She’s a baby. And she loves cuddles.”
Alex nods his head towards Emily. “Well you seem to be handling the cuddling aspect pretty well.”
Emily rolls her eyes. “Oh honestly.” She sighs and looks down at her niece again. “Uncle Alex is a bit of a crab sometimes but I promise you’ll learn to love him.”
The words ring in Alex’s ears over and over and over. Uncle Alex. He steps forward slowly. “Em…” But he doesn’t even know what he wants to say. Maybe he just wanted to say her name in that moment.
“Why don’t you hold her, Alex? She doesn’t bite. She hardly even has teeth yet.”
Alex swears that Emily could get him to do just about anything with that smile, and this instance is no different. So he sighs and gives in, walking over to sit beside her.
It’s been ages since Alex has held a baby, and he feels awkward while Emily transfers the little bug from her own arms into his. “Now careful with her head,” Emily instructs, and Alex raises his elbow a bit to give the baby a bit more of a cushion.
Emily allows her hands to linger for a bit more support once the baby is in his arms, but then she pulls away. “Good! Look at you, Alex!”
Alex can’t take his eyes off of this beautiful little thing in his arms, and he suddenly feels such an indescribable pull towards Emily. He wants one of these. One of his own. And he wants it with her.
“You should give yourself more credit,” Emily says. “You’re a good cuddler, too.”
Alex smirks. “Yeah well. This is just like holdin’ you.”
Emily’s jaw drops at that. “What’s THAT supposed to mean?”
The dimple in Alex’s cheek is on full display. “Well, you’re small. And you’re adorable. And you’re sleepy 90% of the time.”
Alex notes the redness in Emily’s cheeks and it makes him smile. “You’re a baby, Emy.”
“Am not,” she mumbles. “Be quiet.”
Alex chuckles and turns back to the little thing in his arms. “Hi there,” he coos. “You like me, don’t ya? You’re nice and cozy, huh?”
The baby reaches up to grab Alex’s dog tag that hangs— still— around his neck. He blames the fact that he still wears it on pure laziness, but he and Emily both know he wears it for the memories and because, slowly but surely, he is learning to be proud of himself. To wear it like a Medal of Honor. He survived.
And seeing it now in this baby’s dimpled hands has his eyes welling up with tears. He doesn’t know why, but he thinks he may just be overwhelmed. He swallows what feels like a brick in his throat. “Like that?” He says, pretending like his voice isn’t cracking. The baby goes to put it in its mouth, and he chuckles. He reaches for it and pulls it away, tucking it into his shirt. “No, lovey, we don’t chew on that.” He pokes at the baby’s lower lip and gasps at the two little white teeth that are coming in. “Emy, she’s teething.”
“Ooh, yeah, my sister mentioned that,” Emily says, nodding. “Might be why she was so fussy earlier. She needs something to chew on.”
“Here.” Alex wiggles his finger between the baby’s parted lips, and she chomps down. It doesn’t hurt, of course, but Alex still lets out a little wince. “Sharp little things aren’t they? Poor little bugger.”
Emily giggles, watching Alex completely melt over this baby. Little by little, he is coming back. Her Alex, who he used to be before. And she loves being here for it all. She loves watching him soften, and she loves cracking away at the walls he’s built around himself.
“Looks like you’ve got the cuddling aspect down as well,” she says quietly.
“Hmm? Oh… yeah.” Alex’s cheeks turn the lightest shade of red, and Emily wants to kiss them and feel their heat against her lips. “S’not really that hard is it? Common sense and that.”
Emily knows she wants to spend her life with this man. She knows it’s not going to be easy by any means, but they belong together. Looking at him feels like home. Familiarity. Like she’s looking at something she’s known all her life. She smiles. “Yeah. Common sense.”
A/N: Here y'all are!!! Totally enjoying writing this. This chapter focuses on reader now. Next one will maybe see our lovers reunited….we shall see ;)
****
The walls shook, the old dust of the ceiling crumbling softly as bombs set off outside. The noise was something you grew accustomed to, and while you heard some screams coming down the hall, you merely reached for the cup next to you, holding it steady while the earth shifted around you. You slowly glanced around the makeshift room, frowning deeply at the sounds of bombs and gunshots going by. It was almost like clock work sometimes, the silent reverie you built up, now once again disturbed by the violence of war. With a agitated movement, you dropped the newspaper you were reading down and slowly let the cup go as the shaking began to subside. You waited a moment, thinking maybe someone would come running down the hall, screaming for help with this or that. But, when no other noises came you went back to reading, trying to distract yourself from the dark thoughts invading your mind.
With a flip of the page your features hardened, the numbers of deaths coming off the paper making you grit your teeth in anger and pain. It was clear to you, that any one of those numbers could be Newt. After all, weeks had gone by and no word from the soldier had come to you. You tried to stay positive, tried to tell yourself that he was simply lost, or injured somewhere with no way to reach you. But, those thoughts always led to dangerous territory, and you found yourself hurting all the more by the end of it.
A deep sigh escaped you, and you pushed the newspaper away in your moment of weakness as your throat began to tighten. The all too familiar feeling of grief coming over you, but you rose from your chair, quickly wiping at the tears that threatened to fall. Now was hardly the time for mourning. You walked over to the tint sink in the building, turning the knob and letting out an annoyed breath as the pipes shrieked and shook with overuse. The handles began to leak, a loud pop coming from the faucet as murky brown water sprayed out. It wasn’t an ideal situation, yet in this day and age it was all you could hope for. With little care for the color, you placed your hands under the weak stream of water splashing some of it on your face and washing away the tears. It served to ease your stress, if only for a moment because as you leaned back up footsteps came down the hallway.
You turned around, wiping your hands along your smock and smiling at Meredith as she leaned against the doorway. The nurse had a somber expression, but she tried her best to maintain her usual optimism.
“Thought you’d be sleeping.”
“Amidst all this chaos? Not a chance.”
She hummed in agreement, crossing her arms and picking at the dirt in her nails as she spoke. “Afraid I have some more bad news then.”
“More injured?”
Meredith smiled weakly at you, licking her chapped lips and nodding gently. “More injured.”
You lost count the number of times she had said this to you, but this was what you signed up for. Complaining was not something you could do, nor waste the time for.
“I’ll be right there.”
Meredith offered you a sympathetic look, and you could tell there was a hint of curiosity in her eyes. No doubt wondering about your sweetheart currently lost to you. She was the only person you had confided in, despite your usual private nature, this situation was something you couldn’t handle on your own. But, she didn’t press for details and certainly didn’t initiate any of the conversations about him. She let you take your time and come to her when needed. Just like now. She nodded and turned away, pace picking up as another boom resounded down the hall.
You collected yourself, took a deep breath, and hurried towards the outside where all the chaos ensued. As you edged down the hall the screams got louder, bullets now ricocheting off the equipment and vehicles parked outside. It was hell, and as you turned the corner of the broken down wall your eyes widened, an unbearable heat hitting your body. You squinted against the orange glow, gasping at the huge wall of fire that overtook the forest in the distance. Despite the fact that it was miles away, the heat was unlike anything you felt before.
“What weapon could do that…?” You muttered out, in awe of the actual hell that seemed to ascend to the earth.
“Y/N!”
The medical director’s voice caught your attention, and you turned to look the doctor in the eye as he beckoned you over to him. He was in the midst of treating a young soldier, struggling to keep the boy still as he attempted to give him morphine. But, the young man on the gurney was screaming and crying out, seemingly in shock from his extensive wounds and burns. Now in the heat of war, your adrenaline kicked in, and you rushed to his side, grabbing the soldier’s leg and pushing it down with all your strength so he couldn’t kick about. You had never seen injuries like his, he was burned badly, skin nearly melted into his uniform and a heat still radiating from his flesh. But, you tried your hardest not to show your shock, not wanting to upset the young boy further.
“Hell beasts! Large hell beasts!”
The doctor ignored his cries, biting off the cap to the needle and sticking the soldier on the side of his abdomen as he tried desperately to ease the suffering. And while you nursed his superficial wounds he continued to yell, sometimes incoherently, other times going on about demons and dragons. None of it made sense to you, but you did your best to ignore him, trying to help him instead of giving in to his shock laden words.
As you cleaned one wound, his hand reached out gripping your arm tightly, screams getting louder. You stiffened at the sudden contact, heart beginning to race as the boy looked you deep in the eyes and yelled. His eyes were wild, lips quivering in fear as he relayed the events that led to his injuries.
“Dragons…there’s bloody dragons!”
In comfort, you placed your hand over his own, shushing him as best you could.
“Settle down, you’re safe here. I promise.”
“The Germans! They sent dragons…”
It was utter nonsense to you, and as confused as you were, you simply brushed your thumb over his hand trying to ease his worry.
“Shh. Rest, there are no dragons here.”
You figured he was referring to the Germans, calling them dragons for the fire they may have unleashed upon his camp. But, he didn’t seem convinced with your calming words, and merely began to struggle more, almost injuring the doctor in the process.
“I saw them….they came from above, fire in their mouths, ate some up….” He cried, an insane form of laughter leaving him as he tried to explain to you both. “Almost got me!”
“That’s enough, please you must-” You placed your hand upon his chest, pushing him down and giving all your weight to your palm. But, he continued on, until his next words left you frozen.
“Scamander saved me…”
To say your heart nearly stopped would be an understatement, and slowly your hand slipped from his own in your shock. You stared down at him in mild disbelief, eyes stinging with angry tears. You couldn’t describe the emotions that came to you, but the awful side of your heartache came out in a rage that was directed at this poor young man. Fearing he was simply fooling you into a false sense of security on the livelihood of your heart’s desires.
In the background, you could hear the sound of the doctor’s voice, shouting out orders to you, but you were already gone. You leaned forward, whispering to the soldier and trying to gain whatever information you could.
“Scamander? Which one?! Tell me, please!”
The doctor pushed you away, obviously done trying to get you to listen to him, and with an angry shout he urged you to retrieve Meredith for him.
“Go get Meredith!!! Now!”
But, you ignored his demands, the selfish half of you urging this injured soldier to help you in any way.
“Tell me!!! What’s the soldier’s name?!”
Meredith came rushing over, gently tugging you away from the soldier and pushing you back.
“Y/N.”
She whispered words of comfort to you, but you paid them no mind, pulling free from her grasp and going back to the boy.
“Newt? Or Theseus? Please! You must tell me!”
She grabbed you harder this time, giving you a sympathetic yet serious look that urged you to stop this now. “Y/N! That’s enough!” She cupped your cheeks momentarily, before moving back to the soldier and helping the doctor pull him along into one of the nearby tents.
You stood back, trying hard to control your breathing, but your anxiety kicked in and you let out a violent cry of frustration. With a sharp turn of your body you cried, covering your sobs with your hands as the tears began to fall.
“Oh, Newt….Newt….” His name left your lips in pathetic squeaks, and as you glanced around silence fell over the turmoil that had taken over the fields. The fire in the distance continued to rage on, burning the grass and trees into ash so quickly there’d be no forest by the end of the hour. And as you watched the flames reach high levels a loud roar rang out, waking you from your grief and causing you to back away. The sound vibrated along the trees, a heavy wind brushing down the fields and flattening the grass. In your terror you stood wide eyed, your heart going out to the young soldier because now you could understand why he’d believe dragons caused this, because in all this disarray it’d be easy to confuse the roar of bombs and guns as a beast. And with this fire…there’s no telling what started it.
“God have mercy on us all…”
You wiped the sweat from your brow, hands sweeping along your cheeks and ridding yourself of the tears you shed. The unknown was something you couldn’t live with, and it hardly served you well in your job. The guilt of your lack of care for the young soldier was enough to deal with, and as far as you were concerned the only option now was to find out the truth for yourself. You were not permitted to be on the actual front lines, but it was worth it in your mind. Not only to find out which brother had saved that poor boy, but also aid those who may need it most right now.
You looked around the field, seeing one soldier getting atop a motorcycle. Before he could leave you called out to him and grabbed a bag of some supplies as you met him behind a tent.
“I need a ride.”
“Not likely.”
“Please!”
The soldier scoffed, clearly not pleased with the position you were placing him in. He was American, his face hardened with stress and years of dealing with this war. You guessed he was the medic for his company, though the patches that would give that away were covered up. No doubt shielding him from nearby snipers who would seek to take out the source of health for their enemies.
“Please…I can help.”
“I’m not about to put a woman on the front lines. Do you have a death wish? Have you even seen what it’s like out there?!”
The horrors you had witnessed never left your mind, and yet you ached for this poor man. Who had, without a doubt, seen far worse than you ever did. But, your mission, at least in your mind was an important one.
“I beg you…I can help.”
He looked into your eyes, lips pursed in equal amounts of concern and annoyance. And while he didn’t care for charity missions, there was something in you that made him relent.
“You’re asking a lot of me.”
“I know. Here…” You handed him the bag of supplies, meager as it was, and hoped it’d help him in some way with his own injured men out there. But, he sighed, pushing it back into your chest and climbing atop the motorcycle.
“Keep it. You’ll need it.”
With a grateful look, you climbed on behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and tucking the bag of supplies safely between your bodies.
****
A/N: Feedback more than welcomed and appreciated. ❤️
hi friends!! I saw this really cute trend started by @oh-honey-styles and I wanted to join the fun so without further ado, here’s Christmas—Halani—edition from our girl Alani herself ♡
• How do you plan to spend the holidays?
Sooo since Harry and I both have very low tolerances for snow, we’ve decided to spend Christmas with my family in Hawai’i! H actually hasn’t been back to the island since he started recording his first album and he’s excited to catch some much needed sun and waves. We’ve talked about maybe getting a place of our own in Kona some day, but New York City has grown on me quite a bit and Harry says he’s home wherever I am, so for now we’ll just visit. We also plan to stop in London for a few days and see his family before heading back to NYC for New Years. Anne sent me a photo of my very own stocking above her fireplace the other day and I nearly dissolved into a puddle of tears on the floor. Needless to say, I think it’s going to be the best Christmas yet ♡
• What’s your favorite holiday tradition?
Christmas parades are kind of a big deal in Hawai’i. Every year, the café serves as the staging area for all the carolers, dancers, and workers who put on our local parade, so it’s kind of like one big neighborhood party. It’s a little too warm for hot chocolate, so we usually serve what Pua has nicknamed “Santa Smoothies,” which are basically just watermelon slushees with a bit of whipped cream on top. Afterwards, my family usually heads down to the beach and has a little campfire with kalua pork sandwiches. I can’t wait for Harry to experience it.
• Will you be kissing someone under the mistletoe this year?
Hmmm, good question. I asked Harry if he thinks James Marsden will kiss me under the mistletoe this year and this was his reaction:
• What is the best thing that happened to you this year?
Reuniting with Harry was definitely the best thing that happened to me this year. We both grew a lot in our time apart, and in many ways I think that made our relationship stronger, but it also made me realize how much I never want to spend another second without him. Harry is my best friend, and we understand each other in ways that no one else quite can. When we were broken up, I kept finding myself thinking about him in the most mundane situations. There’s a little record shop near my apartment and I’d sometimes imagine what songs he’d pick out for me. Even the sunrise itself seemed to bring back fond memories of the one person I wanted to be with the most. It didn’t help that his face was plastered on every goddamn skyscraper in Times Square, but I digress. Anyways, we’ve been back together now for almost a whole year, and it feels as though we never missed a beat. Harry still looks at me like I’m made of gold, kisses me like I’m his only source of air, and holds me like he doesn’t ever want to let go. And he won’t, neither will I. So to offer a more serious answer to your previous question, Harry is the person I will kiss under the mistletoe this year and every year for the rest our lives.
You Bring Me Home — Chapter One: Flightless Bird, American Mouth
a/n: I've been working on this story for mooonths now and I'm so excited to finally share it with the world! It's heavily inspired by Harry's Behind the Album mini doc, except I changed the setting to Hawai'i because I've personally spent some time there and as they say, write what you know! YBMH takes place in the period between One Direction's hiatus and Harry's first album/tour, but with that being said, this is entirely a work of fiction and some events don't follow the true timeline. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my little story, I hope you love it as much as I do! It will be updated every Friday at 5 PM PST. My inbox is open, so feel free to talk to me once you've finished reading! I'd love to hear from you :) Much love, Mel <3
Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character
Warnings: swearing
Word Count: 5.5k
May, 2016
Harry watches LAX get smaller through the airplane window and visualizes all of his worries stuck at the terminal gate, their magnitude also diminishing as he takes flight. He sinks lower in his seat and skims through playlists on his phone when a nagging feeling at the back of his mind pulls his attention away from the screen. Looking up from the song choices, he spots a cell phone quickly lowered from his line of vision and a girl with flushed cheeks who quickly averts her gaze. Harry shoots a tight-lipped smile in her direction and goes back to his phone with a sigh. The days when he could roam the streets freely without fear of recognition—or worse, harassment—feel like an entirely different lifetime. He sometimes imagines that he’ll wake up back in his childhood bed as if the past five years had all been a dream, but he never does. In fact, his privacy and anonymity seem to dwindle with each minute of radio play that One Direction receives. It’s a bittersweet pill to swallow, but one he hopes will go down easier with some time in the Hawaiian sun.
His close friend and new manager, Jeff Azoff, had suggested the vacation as soon as the band privately agreed to take a hiatus.
“You’ll go home for a few weeks,” his voice had crackled through the speakers of Harry’s phone. “Visit your mom and Gem, lay low for a while until the smoke blows over,”
Harry mulled it over in his mind, eyes flickering over the rolling landscape outside of the tour bus window.
“Then what?”
“Then you go for a little vacation. The label offered to cover a house in Hawaii so you can start working on the album,”
“Alone?”
Jeff chuckled lightly on the other end before responding. “I mean, if that’s what you want,”
“No,” Harry corrected. “You and Tom should come. Mitch and Bhasker, too,”
“The dream team,”
“And there’ll be a studio there?”
“Yes,” Jeff started, almost hesitant. “But I don’t want you to think about that too much,”
“But you said the label—"
“I also said vacation. Look, Rob said ‘it will all happen in due time,' did he not?”
Harry twisted the rose ring around his finger, tracing over the silver petals and thinking back to his conversation with the CEO of Sony Music, Rob Stringer. Upon the proposal of his debut solo album, Rob had told him that the most important ingredient for a successful debut would be patience. The singer had agreed in the moment, but every day not spent in the studio felt like a test he hadn’t studied hard enough for.
“Yeah.”
“So you take the free vacation,” Jeff suggested. “You go out, live, get some writing material. Maybe mess around with some tunes. And then we come back to L.A. and get to work. But until then, I just want you to focus on taking it easy.”
So take it easy he had. Or at least he had tried to when he was back home in England. Harry quickly grew restless after what felt like the millionth awkward conversation with past friends and acquaintances, all of which eventually led to the topic of One Direction and it’s unexpected hiatus. After one month at home, his mind and journal were full of ideas for songs, things that he wanted to say before he lost his nerve. One night as he tossed and turned in bed, he shot Jeff a text, just two words that would kick off a three month getaway to the Big Island of Hawai'i:
I’m ready.
********
“Sounds great, I'll go put in your order.” Alani offers sweetly, trying not to overdo it with the customer service voice. After waiting on the family at her designated table, she heads back to the kitchen and finds her younger sister, Pua, crouched in the corner taking what appears to be a serious phone call.
“I don’t know, I just saw it!” Her sister cries in a hushed tone. “Where do you think he’s going?”
“Is everything okay?” Alani cuts in with concern.
Pua whispers into the speaker before bringing the phone to her shoulder.
“Harry Styles was just spotted on a plane this morning,”
“Who?”
“The guy from One Direction,” her sister explains with a hint of irritation in her voice. “The band who sings that song you secretly like, ‘Fireproof,'”
Alani vaguely recalls the melody, but she waits expectantly for Pua to elaborate. “And this is news because…”
“Because the band just broke up, so where could he possibly be going?”
"The unemployment office?”
Pua rolls her eyes and returns to her phone call while Alani envelops her in a tight hug.
“I’m just kidding!” Alani apologizes, squeezing tighter despite her sister’s attempts to break free. “I’m sure he’ll be living off of royalty checks until he’s, like, eighty,”
“Get off me, freak!” Pua cries out, finally breaking the embrace.
Alani clutches her chest and pulls out an invisible knife. “Ouch. I’m telling Harry you said that,”
“This is exactly why I don’t tell you things.” the younger sister huffs, storming out of the kitchen through the employee entrance where Alani’s best friend, Maleah, has just arrived.
“Looks like someone forgot to eat their Cheerios today,” she remarks, tying her curls into a high ponytail.
Alani shrugs and leans against the counter. “She’s going through something. Just discovered that boys in pop bands are, in fact, just regular boys.”
“Poor thing,” Maleah frowns. “We all have to learn eventually.”
********
The sky is a blend of cotton candy pink and burnt orange when Alani returns home from the café with a strawberry smoothie in tow. She empties the mailbox and sorts through the various bills and advertisements, but her stomach drops when she sees a familiar return address label. After a quick greeting to her excited dog who waits at the door, Alani bolts up the stairs and quietly shuts the bedroom door behind her. Breathe, she reminds herself before tearing into the envelope and discarding it onto the wooden floor.
Dear Ms. Hale,
We are very grateful to have received your submission to Rolling Stone magazine. However, we regret to inform you—
She doesn’t read the rest, slumping to the floor in defeat. The sixth rejection letter from Rolling Stone lies crumpled at Alani’s feet and she kicks it across the room with a frustrated grunt. She had worked for over two months perfecting her analysis of Joni Mitchell’s Big Yellow Taxi and its allusions to the environmental impact of urban development in Hawaii. As part of her initial research, Alani had even traveled to both the Royal Hawaiian hotel in Honolulu, which is the famous Pink Hotel mentioned in the song, and Foster Botanical Garden that Mitchell referred to as “the tree museum.” She was certain that her effort and persistence would result in at least a consideration. The second third time's the charm! Maleah had joked watching Alani submit the piece. Six articles in the span of two years, each one facing the same rejection despite the increased effort Alani had put in over time. The fact that the rejection letter hadn’t changed over the course of the two years brings an incredulous smile to her face, and her stomach turns when she considers that the editors probably hadn’t even read her work, anyway. All that effort, she thinks to herself, all that time, for nothing.
“It will take time,” her favorite professor, Dr. Hudson, had reassured her three months after the Joni Mitchell article was submitted. “Every great writer faced countless rejection until that one piece. Yours will come. Keep your eyes open and your pen ready.”
Alani sighs and lifts herself off the floor, choosing to crawl into her unmade bed instead of slumping onto the hardwood. She hears a soft scratching at the door before her King Charles Spaniel, Freddie, pads into the room.
“Come here, bubs,” Alani whispers. He obeys and burrows into the duvet, giving her temple a gentle lick before nuzzling into the nape of her neck.
“You still love me, right?” she asks, voice cracking. “Even if I’m a failure?”
Freddie sniffs her ear in response.
********
“Right,” Harry says, his tongue peeking from the corner of his mouth as he reads the map. “No, left, sorry,”
“Do you actually know how to read a map?” Jeff teases, correcting the turn.
Harry pouts in response, his brows furrowing. “In my defense, we’re literally in the middle of fucking nowhere,”
“There are worse places to be,” Mitch pipes up from the back seat. “England, for example, where they say things like ‘litchrally’,”
“Very well said, Mitchell,” Jeff Bhasker adds with a fake British accent of his own.
Harry turns to his friends in the back seat with a finger pointed like an agitated mother. “If you lot don’t shut up, I’m gonna lead us to a volcano and push you in,”
“Where are we even going? I forgot,” Tom complains.
“To get food,” his manager responds from the driver’s seat. “I think,”
“Why can’t we just stop there?” Mitch asks pointing to a café pulling up on their right.
Jeff merges into the turning lane quickly without a second thought. “Good enough for me, I’m starving.”
“Sorry, H.” Mitch pats his friend on the shoulder.
Harry scoffs. “You’re the one who wanted poke.”
The Aloha Nui Loa Café is much more spacious than the exterior suggests, yet it still feels cozy. The walls are painted sage green and adorned with various local art pieces, as described by the plaques that accompany them. A skylight fills the center of the room with plenty of warm lighting, leaving the space along the walls in a bit more shade for an intimate feel. In one corner, a hanging disco ball leaves freckles of sparkling light along the walls where the sunlight hits, making the whole image very idyllic in Harry’s mind. As if he couldn’t enjoy the setting more, he hears the beginning of an Otis Redding song that he’s had stuck in his head drift through the restaurant speakers.
“Welcome in!” a voice calls, which pulls him from his survey of the room. His head whips to the source—a girl around his age with wavy, dark hair and honey skin. “For here or to go?”
Harry takes a hesitant step up to the counter. “For here,”
She smiles warmly and pulls some menus from under the counter. “How many in your party?”
“Five.”
“Great, follow me.”
Harry and his friends follow the waitress to the corner of the room under the disco ball and take their seats at the round table.
“My name is Alani,” she introduces herself, setting the menus down. “I’ll be serving you today. Can I get you started with some drinks?”
Harry continues scanning the restaurant while his group orders. His eyes land on the shirt that Alani is wearing, a white tee with the words “Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey” in blue lettering that surrounds a picture of a cartoon bee.
“Harry,” Jeff says gently, catching his drifting attention.
The singer turns to his manager, who nods to Alani waiting with a pen pressed to her notepad. Harry feels a rush of embarrassment creep across his cheeks and he clears his throat to cover it.
“Just water,” he says, eyes glued to the menu. “Thanks.”
“You got it.” Alani nods, flashing a toothy grin at the rest of the group before turning back to the kitchen. Harry. Her mind repeats, finding a hint of familiarity, though she doesn’t know why.
When Alani arrives at the drink station, she finds her sister staring at her, mouth agape, while Maleah unsuccessfully conceals her laughter.
“What?” she questions, checking herself for any embarrassing stains or smells.
“You were—and he—” Pua stammers. “He was—and then he—”
“That’s Harry Styles,” Maleah translates, her voice hushed as she peers over her friend's shoulder.
Alani turns to steal a glance at the table she just seated, but Pua and Maleah latch onto her and shake their heads frantically.
“Don’t look!” her sister hisses.
Alani smirks, amused at their reactions. “No shit. That’s One Direction?”
Maleah snorts, clasping a hand over her mouth as Pua huffs. “No, dumbass! It’s just Harry. I don’t know who the other guys are,”
“But the blonde guy? That’s not—?”
“No!” Pua and Maleah giggle in unison.
“Okay, geez,” Alani relents. She manages to steal a quick glance at the table over her shoulder, immediately searching for Harry. Her eyes scan over the long, curly hair kept out of his face by a pair of white sunglasses that she had seen on Kurt Cobain once. All of his features are sharp and striking, from his pointed nose and defined jawline to the bright blue eyes. Or maybe they were grey? Alani wonders, trying to remember the exact shade. He doesn’t look anything like the fresh-faced teeny bopper she’d had in mind, the one from a music video her sister had shown her a long time ago. She would have never guessed that the What Makes You Beautiful singer had so much dark ink trailing down his bicep and forearm, though her knowledge of One Direction was very limited.
“What did he order?” Pua questions, her eyes wide.
Alani quickly snaps back to reality and resumes filling the drinks. “A water,”
“Oh my god,” Maleah swoons. “I’m never drinking anything else ever again,”
“I didn’t even know you liked him,” Alani teases with an eyebrow raised.
Maleah sneaks another peek at the table and catches her lower lip between her teeth. “I mean, I didn’t really think so either but look at him. What a fucking dream,”
Harry was objectively handsome, this Alani could admit, but she personally didn’t see the appeal and had a strong feeling that he was just like every other male celebrity. The fact that he hadn’t even bothered to make eye contact with her only served as further proof of what she knew to be true.
“Okay, well, your dreamboat is waiting for his water. So excuse me,” Alani winks, making her way back to the table.
The singer spots Alani returning out of the corner of his eye and the sight of her causes a strange flutter in the pit of his stomach that makes him want to duck for cover. Instead, he pulls his phone from his back pocket and pretends to be occupied with something on the screen.
“Okay,” she greets, setting the drink tray down. “I have a Blue Hawaii, a Mango Mama, two Loco Cocos, and a water,”
The group graciously accepts their drinks with a chorus of “thank you," but the only one under Alani’s scrutiny is Harry. He still doesn’t meet her almond eyes, and though she figured he wouldn’t, she can’t help the inkling of disappointment that washes over her. After taking their meal orders, Alani heads back to the kitchen, checking on her other customers along the way. Harry’s eyes follow her and he observes the way customers light up at her presence, indulging her conversation with laughter. He watches as she lingers by the jukebox in one corner of the room, a detail he had missed in his initial scan, and waits anxiously to see what song she chooses. Baby I’m-a Want You begins softly and Harry feels the corner of his lip curl ever so slightly. Good choice, he thinks.
********
“He’s still here,” Pua muses, peering through the tiny window in the kitchen door. It had been nearly two hours and the five men were still seated around their table cracking jokes and doing a lot of talking with their hands.
Alani doesn’t look up from her bowl of sliced kiwis, offering a hum in response. “And what do you want me to do about that?”
“Nothing,” Pua shoots back. “Don’t bother him,”
“What kind of girls do you think he’s into?” Maleah asks, attempting to peek through the window.
Alani shrugs, bored of the conversation and of thinking about Harry. “I don’t know, but I’ll bet he’s a real sucker for the ones who stalk him while he’s eating,”
“How does he make eating a salad look hot?”
“Can we talk about something else now?” Alani whines, poking holes in a lone kiwi with her fork.
Pua tosses a wet dish rag in her sister’s direction and cheers when it lands in her face. “Go see if he wants more water, he looks thirsty.”
“I already refilled it,” Alani defends. “Twenty minutes ago. I’ve refilled it a hundred times, I’m surprised he hasn’t peed his pants.”
I’m gonna piss myself. Harry thinks, his right leg bouncing to distract himself. He really wasn’t all that thirsty, but he couldn’t stop himself from finishing each glass of water that Alani placed in front of him. He really wasn’t all that thirsty, but he couldn’t stop himself from finishing each glass of water that Alani placed in front of him. Like clockwork, she would return to fill his glass almost as soon as the last drop had been drained, and so what began as a little experiment slowly turned into a bladder hazard. But if the trend was to be trusted, she would be back any minute and he wasn’t going to miss it; afterall, there were only so many ways to casually linger in a small café without making it weird. Unable to bear it any longer, he heads to the restroom and hopes that Alani doesn’t clear their table before he has a chance to see her again.
Harry pads down the back hallway with his eyes cast down at the floor, which proves to be a mistake when he walks directly into another person.
“Sorry!” they both apologize quickly, Harry’s palm taking purchase on the other person’s upper arm.
“I wasn’t paying attention,” he offers, finally meeting the dark, mocha eyes already looking back at him.
Alani presses her lips into a tight smile. “Me either,”
Harry’s heartbeat picks up when he realizes it’s her, and he isn’t aware of how close they’re standing until he detects the faint scent of kiwi on her breath. He takes a step back and rakes a hand through his hair.
“So I guess I’ll just—”
“Yeah, sure.”
Green. Alani notes to herself. His eyes are green.
********
Shortly after Harry returned from the restroom, him and his friends settled their bill and headed out. Alani cleared their table and her eyes nearly fell out of her head when she saw the hefty tip left behind. The word mahalo was also left behind on the receipt, underlined twice, and she wondered if it was his handwriting.
Later that night, she settled into bed with her laptop and hesitantly typed his name into Google. As she expected, countless articles about the split of One Direction emerged, most of them speculating what was next for each member. To her surprise, however, Harry’s name seemed to be mentioned more than his fellow bandmates as various sources labeled him “the next Justin Timberlake” and rising star of the group. Upon further investigation, she learned that the demand for information about the elusive Harry Styles was high, especially concerning any possible solo music. No news had yet been confirmed by Styles himself, nor anyone claiming to represent him, but she still wondered if his presence in Hawaii had anything to do with a possible solo project. Almost as soon as she thought it, Alani dismissed the theory in favor of the idea that he was most likely just taking a vacation. And from the buzz that she saw surrounding the news about One Direction, she couldn’t blame him.
The more Alani read, the more she wanted to know, and something deep down told her that his was a story worth telling. Of course, the only problem was that she had hardly talked to him, and there were only so many things she could say about the fifteen glasses of water he downed. There was no way of knowing if she would ever see him again, either, or if he was merely stopping in Hilo on his way to another island or somewhere else entirely. Alani sighed, thinking back to her most recent rejection from Rolling Stone. She knew that there was no possible way she would ever see or talk to Harry ever again, and even if she did, why would he bare his entire soul to a stranger? Still, she let her mind wander through the possibility.
Dear Ms. Hale, the letter would read, we are very grateful to have received your submission to Rolling Stone magazine and are pleased to inform you that your piece on Harry Styles will be featured in next month’s issue. Additionally, we would be honored to have you on staff, effective immediately.
It was far-fetched, Alani knew this, but she dozed off that night with endless ideas swimming in her head.
********
By the third day after his visit, the only trace of Harry is in Alani’s search history. She would have completely forgotten about him if it weren’t for her sister’s constant reminiscing and multiple attempts to rename the house salad to the “Harry Special.” As a result, a part of Alani’s thoughts periodically linger back to that day and the subsequent hours spent on Google that she’d rationalized as research instead of stalking. Somehow the knowledge that she’ll never see him again only adds fuel to the questions still burning in her mind, but a customer clearing their throat while she sorts menus below the hostess podium interrupts her thoughts.
“Welcome in!” She calls, standing. “What can I—”
She stops in her tracks, unable to believe her eyes. Harry blinks and waits for her to continue.
“What can I get started for you?” Alani tries again, hoping that he hadn’t noticed her shock. Luckily for her, Harry had been too focused on choosing his next words to register her mistake.
“What’s in the Honu smoothie?” he asks, mentally kicking himself for asking such a stupid question when the menu just inches above her head clearly spells it out.
Alani hums, thinking back to the times she had made the smoothie herself. “Kiwis, spinach, mango, avocado, and a hint of lime,”
“I’ll take one of those,” Harry says, reaching for his wallet.
Alani punches in the order with trembling fingers and nods. “For here or to go?”
“To go,”
Disappointment fills her chest. Sure, she hadn’t planned on seeing him ever again, but the fact that she did felt like a sign. If she wanted to take the chance, she’d have to do it fast.
“Anything else?” she asks, weighing her options while he skims the menu.
“No thanks.”
Alani makes the smoothie quickly, head spinning. She had spent most of the night after their initial meeting planning out exactly the type of questions she hoped to ask him and what kind of article she would write. She was used to writing about what she knew—artists and music she’d admired for years— but she figured that starting fresh with someone she hardly knew would be a good challenge. Not to mention that it seemed like just the thing Rolling Stone would jump for. Alani finally works up the courage as she finishes his smoothie, but when she returns to hand it to him and hopefully strike up a conversation, his ear is pressed to his cell phone. She holds out the drink and he graciously accepts, giving her a small nod as a “thank you” and rushing out of the restaurant.
Two days later he returns and is seated at the counter, typing away on his phone. Alani feels both a rush of optimism and annoyance at the universe for dangling his presence so unexpectedly. She starts heading over to him, but Maleah cuts in.
“Trade me?” she proposes, eyes wide.
Alani blinks. “Oh, I would but I—”
“Please,” her best friend pouts. “I’m leaving to see my grandparents in stupid California for two months. Who knows when I’ll get the chance to see him again?”
Alani sighs, but gives in, reluctantly exchanging Harry for the family of four seated by the window. A strange feeling settles into the pit of his stomach when he sees that she heads in the opposite direction after a hushed conversation with another waitress. He doesn’t know why she traded him for a different customer, but he takes the hint.
A week goes by without another sighting of Harry and Alani has permanently taken on the role of greeting hostess in hopes of seeing him again. Her heartbeat temporarily speeds up when she sees a long haired customer approach the door, but her spirits quickly fall when the face doesn’t match his.
Another week brings another disappointing realization that Harry might be gone for good. One rainy morning when the restaurant is quiet and only two customers huddle together in a booth near the back, Alani hunches over the hostess podium and doodles on a stray receipt— a sunflower, a crescent moon, and two hearts. The bell above the door jingles but she doesn’t look up, too absorbed in her scribbles.
“Do you serve coffee?”
The familiar accented voice stops Alani’s pen dead in its tracks. She lifts her eyes first to confirm, and then straightens up when she sees that her ears haven’t deceived her.
“Yes,” she swallows.
“Great. I’ll take it to go,”
She slightly deflates, but Harry thinks he’s reading too much into it.
“Actually,” he corrects anyway, just in case he isn’t. “I think I’ll stay for a while,”
Alani flashes a warm smile and nods in the direction of the counter. “Right this way,”
Harry sheds his windbreaker onto the back of the seat, revealing a black and white Rolling Stones t-shirt that makes Alani’s blood pressure rise. A sign, she thinks.
“What do you want in your coffee?” she questions carefully.
“Nothing,” he responds, shaking out his damp hair gently. “Or actually, uh, butter...if you have some,”
Alani blinks, not sure if she’d heard correctly or if there had been some transatlantic miscommunication.
“Butter?”
“Yeah,”
“Like the—”
“Spread, yeah,” Harry confirms. “It’s weird, I know,”
She lets out a light-hearted laugh and nods. “It’s a...unique request,”
“I thought the same thing at first,” Harry confides. “It’s not bad, actually. But maybe I’ve just been in L.A. for too long.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
She offers a polite smile and heads to the kitchen where the cook and two other waiters talk amongst each other. Alani is grateful that the restaurant is slow this morning because she knows that it means minimal interruptions to her time with Harry. To ensure this, though, she asks one of the other waiters to cover the podium and returns to Harry with his coffee.
“One butter coffee, free of judgement,” the waitress announces, setting it down.
Harry grins softly, stirring the drink with the spoon Alani provided. “You can judge, it’s alright,”
“I just wanna know why,”
The coffee had been part of a fad diet while on tour in order to boost Harry’s energy on stage and stay trim for the hundreds of photo-ops he would be a part of. He doesn’t know how to communicate all of this to Alani, however, not sure how much she knows about that part of him, so he shrugs and tells a simplified version of the truth.
“I read about this trend a while back, it's called bulletproof coffee. Supposed to get your energy up and I needed it for my job,”
“Which is…” Alani trails off, downplaying the knowledge that she had acquired from Google.
“I make music,” is all Harry says and he takes a sip of the drink to avoid elaborating.
“Anything I would have heard?”
He swallows hard and listens to the faint rumbling of thunder outside before replying. “Possibly,”
“Try me,” Alani challenges.
He narrows his eyes and takes another sip of coffee. “Why don’t you tell me something about yourself first?”
“What do you wanna know?”
Everything, Harry responds internally, though he reigns it in. “How you got into waitressing,”
Alani sighs, resting her elbows on the counter across from him. “There’s not much to tell, it’s a family business. What I really wanna do is write,”
“Music?”
“Articles. I’m studying Journalism at UH,”
Harry hums in response, filing the detail away in the back of his mind. “Sounds interesting. You ever publish anything?”
“Not yet,” Alani shakes her head gently, toying with the sleeves of her green University of Hawaii crewneck. “Hopefully soon, though,”
Harry racks his brain for something else to say, but before he can, Alani speaks up again.
“Is it my turn to ask something now?”
He offers a curt nod and stirs his coffee.
“What kind of music do you write?”
Harry chooses to be vague again. “Different stuff. Pop, usually. Been messing with some classic rock, though,”
“Explains the shirt,”
He peers down at the design on his tee and agrees. “Yeah, I guess so,”
“Do you like it?” Alani asks, her eyes begging to make contact with his again. “Writing music, I mean,”
“Yeah,” Harry confirms, tapping his spoon against the rim of the mug. “I really do,”
Alani’s heart pounds. This is her chance, a moment to finally secure her breakthrough piece. She doesn’t know how to approach it, so she opts to dive right in without looking back. The worst he can say is no.
“Can I ask you something else?”
“That’s cheating,” Harry teases lightly. “It's my turn,”
She pouts playfully, but obliges. “Fire away,”
Harry doesn’t know which question to ask first, but when he glances down at the crescent moon inked on her wrist, he decides to start there.
“What’s with the moon tattoo?”
Alani isn’t sure what she expected him to ask and wonders what purpose such a detail could possibly serve him, but she answers anyway.
“Oh, well,” she begins, tracing her index finger over the outline. “It’s kinda the meaning of my full name. It’s Mahealani, Hawaiian for ‘heavenly moon,'”
Fitting, Harry comments to himself. Every detail he learns about her makes him want to learn that much more, from her favorite foods to the last thing she thinks about before falling asleep. Studying her expectant eyes, he suddenly remembers that it’s his turn to respond.
“That’s cool,” is all he says.
Alani doesn’t know what to make of the faraway look in his eye, but she decides to pose her most burning question while he appears to be in good spirits.
“I know this is gonna sound totally out of the blue,” she starts, working past the lump in her throat. “But when you mentioned how you write music, I was just reminded of this assignment I’m working on in my class,”
Harry waits for her to continue, nursing his now lukewarm coffee.
“I’m supposed to write a piece about someone who I don’t know that well,” she continues. “You know, to practice our interviewing skills. And, well, I was just kind of wondering if you might be interested in helping me out—being the subject, I mean,”
Alani had every intention of telling Harry the truth, about how she really planned to submit the article to Rolling Stone in hopes of securing an internship before her college graduation next Spring. But as she started speaking, she quickly realized how it would come off: a complete stranger asking for personal information to submit to a well-known publication. She knew that there was a chance he would shut down and never return, so she lowered the stakes and hoped that this route would be less risky. Was it ethical? Alani hadn’t decided yet, but she would work out the details later. After six failed articles and two years of rejection, she saw a ray of hope and wasn’t going to let it slip away.
Harry ponders her offer for a moment, which confirms that she had recognized him. Normally he would be off-put by such a request, and to a certain extent he is, but there is something sincere in her voice that he trusts deep down. Before he agrees, however, he decides to fish around a bit to test her reaction.
“You know who I am,” he says gently. “Don’t you?”
Alani’s heart drops into the pit of her stomach, not sure what to say next. She hopes with every fiber of her being that she hasn’t upset him, or worse, ruined her chances, so she decides to offer some truth to throw him off her scent.
“My sister recognized you,” she explains. “That day you came in with your friends. I thought they were your bandmates at first,”
This lets Harry know that she isn’t a total stalker, which is comforting, but he wouldn’t have been minded if she were a fan simply engaging in conversation.
“Oh,” he laughs weakly.
“I totally understand if you say no,” Alani offers quickly, trying to smooth things over. “I just thought it was worth a shot. And that it might be more interesting than interviewing our produce guy,”
Harry decides to give her one last scan for any sign of insincerity. He’d always felt that his gut instinct was strong and it hadn’t led him astray thus far.
“An interview?” he clarifies.
“Just one,” Alani promises. “An hour, tops. And you can proofread all of it once I’ve finished, too.”
Harry waits a beat, already knowing his reply, but he wants to see how she will react to his silence. She doesn’t budge, almond eyes set and determined.
a/n: surprise lovies!!! I’ve really been missing Halani these days, so I decided to write a short blurb and give you a peek of what our faves have been up to since we last saw them. I had so much fun writing them again and I hope you enjoy this little weekend treat! Much love, Mel <3
Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character
Word Count: 1.2k
Revisit You Bring Me Home here
“That one over there kinda looks like a pineapple,”
“Oh, sure. I see it now,”
“Do you really?”
“No,” Harry admits with a soft chuckle. “Not really, sweets,”
The corners of Alani’s mouth ease into a fond smile as she curls deeper into his side. “Yeah, me either. Constellation gazing is way harder than cloud gazing,”
“Nah. Just have to know what you’re looking for,” Harry offers matter-of-factly. He runs the pad of his left thumb over Alani’s knuckles while the right one lines up beneath the northern star.
“Since when did you add ‘astronomer’ to your already impressive repertoire?”
“Since I kinda discovered I have a knack for it,”
“Is that so?” Alani presses, turning her head to scrutinize the boy lounging beside her. “Do tell how you came to this revelation,”
Harry’s throat tightens ever so slightly as he considers the backstory already playing in his head. He reminisces on the long, solitary nights spent on hotel balconies as his way of unwinding after a high energy performance. After leaving everything on stage, he liked having a moment just for himself, the stars, and the silvery moon shining overhead—the only moon present in his life those days, albeit not the one he was truly searching for. It hardly seems like a story worth telling after all the time that had passed and the healing that had taken place between them. The six months following Harry and Alani’s reunion in New York were full of immense efforts to rebuild trust, and it was worth every second to be able to return to the very same island where it all began, feeling as blissful as ever. But despite that growth, there were still moments just like this one where the pair had to face the uncomfortable reality of their falling out and the effects it had on them as individuals.
“I used to do a lot of stargazing,” Harry admits shyly. “On tour,”
Tour. Synonymous for ‘our breakup’ and less emotionally charged, though it still makes Alani’s stomach turn.
“Oh,” she swallows, eyes glued to the constellations above.
“It brought me a sort of comfort,” Harry elaborates. “Cause no matter where you are, you’re always looking at the same stars. In London. In New York. Hawai’i. I used to imagine you doing the same thing, and even though we weren’t on good terms back then, I figured that at least we had the stars,”
Alani’s heart nearly crumbles at his admission and she props herself up on one elbow to search his face. The tension in his muscles instantly relaxes under the gentle touch of her fingers combing through the curls at the nape of his neck. While they both acknowledge that neither of them were entirely at fault for the temporary break in their relationship, it still stings every time that period of their life is mentioned. Thankfully, they knew it was just that: a period. A blip. A minor smudge on the bigger picture. What truly matters to them in this moment is finally being together again under the endless expanse of shimmering stars. The same stars of the exact same night sky without a single mile of distance between them.
“You know that is...kind of depressing,” Alani jokes lightly. “But also incredibly sweet. And romantic. And such a you thing to do, sunshine,”
Harry laughs softly before leaning in closer so that his dimpled grin hovers inches away from Alani’s mouth. As she slots her lips between his and her lungs fill with the scent of his vanilla cologne, she marvels over the fact that every kiss they share feels just as euphoric as the very first one.
“Speaking of romantic gestures,” Harry adds with his index finger extended to the sky above. “See that curved constellation right there?”
“The one that kinda looks like a smiley face?”
“Yeah, that one,”
“What about it?” Alani questions, already nestling under Harry’s arm draped over her shoulder.
“That’s Corona Borealis,” he explains. “The legend goes that the Greek god Dionysus presented this really beautiful crown to Ariadne, the daughter of the second king of Crete, when they fell in love. After Ariadne died, the crown was placed in the heavens so she would live on forever and it became, you know, a symbol of Dionysus’ devotion to her,”
“That is romantic,” Alani hums.
Harry carefully reaches into his back pocket for a folded slip of paper as he continues his memorized astronomy lesson. “And do you see that star juuust beneath the apex of the crown?”
“Yeah,”
“Well that is the star now known as ‘Halani,’”
“Halani? As in—?”
“—Our names put together,” Harry confirms with a rosy tint in his cheeks. “It’s cheesy, I know,”
Alani giggles, but her eyes sting as the realization of his gesture sets in. “Oh my god, it’s perfect. You really bought us a star?”
“We’ve already got the sun and the moon. What’s another celestial body?”
“I can’t believe you sometimes,” Alani murmurs with her forehead pressed gently against his. “And here I thought I was slick for throwing a couple of pillows and blankets into the back of Stevie,”
Harry chuckles lightly, feigning offense as he sticks out a hand to pat the side of the Bronco. “Hey, I love this date idea. And I know how much effort must’ve gone into taking her top off. Stevie’s a real lady,”
“You are such a dork,”
“Hope you wined and dined her first,”
“I think we should end this bit,” Alani rolls her eyes playfully. “It feels weird now that the actual Stevie and I are on a first name basis,”
“And you have yet to tell her about her vehicular namesake. Honestly if you don’t, I will,” Harry threatens with the most serious expression he can muster.
Alani giggles and buries her face back into the side of his neck. A shiver runs through her spine from both the light graze of her boyfriend’s fingertips and the soft breeze picking up. Harry presses a soothing kiss to her hairline and checks the time on his phone. He can hardly believe that it’s already a few minutes past midnight, though time had always seemed to elude the pair when they were together.
“Should we head back now?”
“Do we have to?” Alani yawns. “Sleeping on the side of the road under the moonlight is romantic, right?”
Harry grins as he pulls her closer with an arm slung over her shoulders. “It would be a nice view to wake up to. And we practically have a monopoly over this lookout, anyway,”
“Exactly. Plus I don’t think I’m ready to part with our star just yet,”
“But that’s the great thing about it,” Harry counters. “It’ll always be there no matter where we go. All you have to do is look up,”
Alani tilts her chin to the sky, but it isn’t their star that she’s admiring in this moment. She studies the slope of Harry’s nose and the contours of his lips under the light of the waning moon and her heart fills with so much affection, she worries it’ll burst.
“I still can’t believe you bought us a star,” she muses incredulously. “How did I get so lucky?”
