Living In A Daydream

i.

Y/N can see the breath in front of her mouth. 

That’s all she can see right now, really. That’s all she can focus on, beyond the loud, almost obnoxious thudding that her heart echoes through her ears, bouncing off the membranes inside like a kettle drum. She hears that, her own staggered breathing, and then the resounding silence that can only manifest in times of pure panic. Like that time she honest to god thought a bear was in the backyard of their rented cabin (with a very unreliable door, that even a raccoon had managed to open with a little shove of its body – it turned out that it wasn’t a bear, but someone’s dog from a spot rented nearby, thankfully), or when she was driving in a thunderstorm so horrible that she could barely see the car in front of her beyond the sheets of rain (she was alone, of course, on her way to Niall’s and thinking that she could beat out the storm, but it turns out that when the weather app says rain in 20 minutes, it actually means 5). 

Well, it just so happens that when an unknown assailant has her pinned against bricks with something sharp at her throat, her body has the same response. Her sympathetic nervous system is consistent, to say the least, and maybe a little confused about the difference between a thunderstorm and being kidnapped and potentially killed. 

Her day had started like any other day. Y/N had woken up ten minutes before her first alarm, then rolled around beneath her covers until her second. She did her morning stretches, a New Year’s resolution imposed by Niall, who was convinced they could hold each other accountable (he stopped doing them a week in), then forced herself into a shower where the water was too on the side of too hot. The way it pelted at her skin felt like little pieces of lava raining from the sky – or what she assumed that felt like. She made half of breakfast because she was already running a bit late and wanted to stop by her favorite cafe on the way to work. The barista, whose name she did not know despite seeing him at least 2-3 times a week, already had her typed in, so she swiped her card and loitered around the pick-up counter until it was ready. She took the subway further into the city, which let her off just a block away from her office building. 

Once she got to work, it was much the same as well. She clocked in, and her coworker Aki was usually around the time clock at the same point she was in the morning, so they’d walk in together. Y/N would get to her desk, and she’d set her coffee down on the table, and while she was organizing her stuff to set up shop for the day, Niall would pop his head over the top of her and Aki’s shared space. Only Y/N’s coffee is the only one that Niall plucks up from the desk and steals a drink from without asking (something that would typically send her over the edge, but she and Niall had been friends since UNI, had even lived together for a couple of semesters before he moved in with his boyfriend at the time, and what was hers, was his, and vice versa – he’d beaten that into her within the first month of knowing him). 

She’s a part of the marketing team for a music company, and with an album release around the corner, their days were pretty busy. Enough so that when Niall grinned, asking her what she was wearing to her date tonight, she barely looked away from the screen to say, “What date?” And promptly get swatted in the shoulder for it, by Aki though, not Niall (he knew Y/N would hit him back 10x harder) “Hey –” 

“You seriously did not forget your date!” Aki’s voice is relatively deep for how girly she looks with pink hair and an even pinker cardigan on, but it can get pretty shrill when she’s upset. “With the handsome guy Niall set you up with? The CEO of –” 

“Oh, yeah, yeah, the pet food guy.” Y/N filled in. 

“The CEO of the pet food brand,” Niall corrects, “You could be Miss. Yummy Bites Meow-edition, but tell me you brought something different to wear.” 

Y/N pouted and looked down at her outfit – sure, maybe it wasn’t the best thing in the world, but it wasn’t horrible, “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” 

“Are you planning on seducing a CEO in a sweater?” Aki inquired. 

Her pout deepened, “It’s cashmere!” She told them, “Besides, I’m not looking to seduce anyone. This is more of a courtesy date since he’s Ni’s friend of a friend, or however this got set up. Bestie's rules say that I can’t make him look bad.” 

“That is true,” Niall wrapped around the cubicle half wall, instead of leaning over it as he was, and pulling the stool Y/N used to set her feet up on from beneath her desk to sit, “Sweater or not, I want you to give him a chance, yeah? You were just complaining about not having anyone to cuddle during the winter.” 

Y/N sighed and finally spun around from her computer, “I was drunk when I was whining about that, you know you’re supposed to take that with a grain of salt.” 

“Drunk mind, sober truth,” Aki quoted, and Niall nodded his assent. 

“So when Ni said he was open to tentacle porn after four tequila shots, he was telling the truth?” 

“Hey, I was drunk, you can’t trust a thing I say.” 

Y/N scoffed, then rumpled her lips, she sagged her shoulders, “Listen, I promise to give the pet store guy a chance, yeah? We’ll fall in love discussing kibble marketing tactics.” 

“That’s the spirit!” Aki chirped, squeezing her knee, “There’s love in the air – I’m sensing your soulmate nearby!” 

Even with the proposed date, the rest of Y/N’s day went by as it usually does. She went to meetings, she ate lunch with Niall and Aki, then got into an intense discussion regarding a Korean drama that Niall had never watched but liked to have invested opinions on. Y/N almost spilled the pasta she had on the cashmere sweater, but thankfully, it just hit her pants instead, and a stain remover pen works far better on wool-blended pants. The second half of the day is relatively quick, and Aki, who kept a mini flat iron in her purse at all times for her bangs, re-did Y/N’s hair in the bathroom. 

By 6 PM, she was sitting in a restaurant with a glass of red wine in front of her. Every sip she took, her face pinched, because she hates wine, actually, but Niall said it would make her look more affluent and cultured or whatever. She thought it’d be better to try and get used to the taste now, while she waited for him to show, rather than trying to police her face in front of a stranger whom she was meant to be “wooing”. 

They were supposed to meet at 6:15 PM, but Y/N showed up a bit earlier because she was closer. Y/N had tapped into the two-week-old message thread during lunch break to confirm dinner, because if she forgot, and she wasn’t a CEO, then she’s assuming he most likely forgot too. Surprisingly enough, he confirmed the time and the place, and said he was excited to meet her. She wondered if it was his secretary or personal assistant responding instead of him, because the exclamation points and general excitement seemed not that of a CEO. Maybe she was casting judgment before giving him a chance, though – maybe he would be a quirky guy. He runs a pet food company, and Y/N felt as though she shouldn’t expect a brooding, grumpy executive. 

Y/N was open to being shocked by the guy. 

If he ever showed up. 

Because 6:15 turned into 6:30. And 6:30 turned into 7:00. And Y/N was two glasses of wine and about half a loaf of complimentary bread in before she accepts that she got stood up on a date that she didn’t even want to fucking go to. Y/N knew that her waiter knew, and her waiter definitely went to the back with the rest of the staff and spoke about the sad girl in booth 8 waiting for some prick that never showed. She took her check, sent Niall and Aki a very strongly worded message, and tried to walk out of the restaurant with her head held high, even though she definitely wanted to cry a little. She was embarrassed, above all things, and Y/N hated feeling like she was a part of a humiliation ritual. The only time she likes to be kind of humiliated is in bed, but that’s where she draws the line. 

So, yeah, tears were beading at her eyes as she was shoving her arms through her puffy winter coat. She could feel her phone buzzing in her pocket, but she wasn’t in the mood to answer it. Y/N needed to get home, get in a hot bath, and roast in it seafood boil style, then eat her leftovers like she had intended to do from the start of the day. Now she was further from the subway than she’d like to be, and on top of that, it’s late now, in the middle of winter. There was a cold front coming in, too, one that was bad enough they’d been told to turn their faucets on and let them drip.  The wind chill was bitter when it slapped her across the face – nearly as bitter as the wine she drank and the way she felt. 

She was in the middle of pulling her gloves on when she heard a soft meow. Y/N picked her head up and looked around – there were a few people on the street, but not many. It wasn’t the weekend, and typically on Thursday nights, this part of town wasn’t that busy (even ritzy, wealthy people need to go home and get ready for bed at a suitable time during the weekday, it turns out). The meow is sad – it sounded like a cry, and Y/N frowned at the thought of a stray cat out in this weather. It was far too cold, and they weren’t nearly close enough to the animal shelter for it to scout out one of those heated huts they set up for the winter. 

In retrospect, it was stupid of her to be lured into an alleyway because of a cat. Had she known that when she stepped into it with her phone’s flashlight lit up, she’d be yanked further in and placed in this particular predicament?  Not at all. All she knew for sure, really, was that if she made it out of this alive, she was going to beat Niall’s ass (not Aki’s, though she held some blame in making her go – because she was well aware Aki could beat her ass). 

“Don’t move,” the voice was low, right in her ear, and she felt the cold, sharp tip of a blade right against her throat, “If you do, you’ll get hurt, yeah? We don’t want that, do we?” 

Y/N’s mouth runs dry, her heart is echoing in her ears, the visual of her breath ghosting in front of her is all she can see, “N-no,” she replied, her hands stiff at her sides, “I – you can have my wallet, it’s in my pocket, and –” 

“I don’t want your money,” he cut her off, “Your little friend you were supposed to meet – you must have been tipped off, yeah? Told him not to show?” Y/N’s brows furrowed, “Who paid you?” 

“Wh-what?” Y/N thinks that if this guy wasn’t holding her up, she’d probably fall out, “Nobody paid me, I was – I just got stood up –” 

He scoffed, “Do you think I’m stupid?” He replied, “I’ve been following him for weeks, tracking his calls, his emails, his messages – the dumbass didn’t even use a burner. You have connections to Holland.” 

“I don’t know who you’re talking about!” Y/N all but squeals, her voice raising, but when he shushes her, she feels the blade against her throat; she swallows hard – her neurons are misfiring, she’s certain of it. She is so overwhelmed, confused, and flushed with fear that she thinks she might pass out. Or that wine is going to make a reappearance on the concrete. Or she’s going to piss herself. Fuck, she doesn’t know. Is she seriously going to get murdered after being stood up? That’s like two messed-up things in one day, and totally not fair! Is this because she didn’t forward that chain mail when she was 11? This has something to do with that, she’s sure of it, because there’s no way that this just happened to her randomly. 

Her phone buzzes in her pocket again, “I swear, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says, voice hushed but rushed, “I literally just work on a marketing team, and I got stood up for a date that my friend set up with some dickhead CEO! I don’t know a ‘Holland’, and I certainly did not tell him not to show up! I barely even know his name!” 

A hand reaches into the pocket, her phone is buzzing, and when he holds the phone out in front of them, Niall’s stupid contact photo is on the screen (it’s him, cake smeared all over his face, grinning ear-to-ear after someone random at the bar smushed his head into it after he blew out his candles). “If this call is sketchy in any way,” he threatens, “I’ll kill you where you stand.” 

The man behind her swipes the call to answer it, and never has Y/N been so happy with the fact that Niall immediately starts talking as soon as the call clicks over, “Baby, I’m so sorry! I’m seriously going to kick Oliver’s ass, he said this guy was super sweet. And to stand you up, of all people, you’re a catch! You should have been standing him up!” He sounds flustered, “I’m so sorry I made you go.” 

She could scream, and holler, and tell Niall to call the cops, but she doesn’t really see what that would do for her right now. This guy could slice her up and be long gone before Niall even believed this wasn’t some elaborate joke to make him feel bad. The blade against her neck was a helpful reminder, too, that he had the upper hand in this situation. 

“It’s fine, Ni, I’m just going to go home,” Y/N steels her voice, and tries not to sound like someone being held at knife point, “I’ll – call you when I get there.” 

“You don’t want to stay on the phone? I know how much you hate the subway this late. I was kind of hoping he’d use his CEO money to get you an Uber, or like – I don’t know, buy you a car and profess his undying love or something.” 

She swallows hard, “No, it’s fine, I just want to be alone with my thoughts for a little while.” 

“I get it,” he agrees, “Mope away, baby, call me when you get home, okay? Don’t forget.” 

They hang up the phone, and in that same instant, the knife is taken away from her. “Oh, wow, I’m so sorry.” The guy switches up so fast, Y/N nearly gets whiplash, and when she’s twisting to get a look at him, she sees a man with a mask over his mouth and a beanie. He does pull the mask down and pockets the knife – she guesses as a show of trust or something – she doesn’t know. She still feels frozen in her spot, “This is so embarrassing, let me make a quick phone call. Stay where you’re at, though, yeah?” 

He pulls his phone from his pocket and dials someone. The guy keeps his gaze on her, and as her eyes finally adjust to the darkness, she can just barely make out his face with the scant amount of light oozing in from the street lamp. It casts shadows over his face – he looks normal. Not like someone who would pull a stranger into the alleyway and threaten them. And he looks incredibly apologetic, scratching at his chin, when the person on the other end answers. 

The conversation is short, kind of coded, but Y/N listens when he says, “Yeah, well, I’m staring at the wrong woman right now. Mhm. Yeah – no, yeah, this is definitely bad. Of course I showed her my face, I feel horrible,” he frowned, nodding his head, “Well, yeah that’s a given. Uh-huh. Okay, I’ll tell her,” then he chuckles, “God, shut up, I know – I haven’t done something like this since I was a recruit. Nobody is going to let me hear the end of it.” 

He clicks his phone, shuts it off with the pad of his gloved thumb, then slips his phone into his pocket, “Okay, so here’s the thing – I’m not going to hurt you, okay? But I also can’t just let you off into the night – if you go to the police, that kind of really puts a damper on everything, y’know? And this has been years in the making, and a lot of money riding on it, that will piss off some very important people if it gets screwed up.” He pointed to himself, “I don’t want that,” then he pointed to her, “And you definitely don’t want that. I guarantee it. So I’ll have to take you home, okay?” 

She stared at him, trying to register everything he told her, and honestly, everything that had just happened in the last 10 minutes. He really didn’t phrase that like a question, so it seemed like what she answered wouldn’t matter either way. When her gaze warily drops down to where he pocketed the knife, he pulls it out of his pocket and delicately gives it an underhand toss across the alleyway. The sound of it clinks and twinkles as it hits the concrete, careening over to a stop against the bricks. “Here, I won’t bring it,” he tells her, then apologizes again, “I’m really sorry, this is so horrible, but – I mean, if you refuse, then I’m going to have to knock you out, and I really don’t want to do that either.” 

“You had no problem holding a knife to my throat,” Y/N reminds him, and he holds his chest. 

“Hey, that was different, I thought you were someone bad!” He defends himself, “Really, I’m a gentleman.” 

She huffs a laugh, finally regaining some of the feeling in her legs, “Um, okay, I guess, I don’t really have a choice,” He nodded,  and Y/N couldn’t tell if he mockingly felt bad for her, or if this was genuine, “Can I – can I ask two questions though, really quick?” 

“Hm, depends on what they are. I can’t answer some of them.” 

“What’s your name?” 

He peers at her, squinting a little, “Y’know, I’d normally refuse that one, but it seems like you’ve had a rough night. And if you do go to the police, well – I’ll know, y’know?” No, she doesn’t know how he’d know, but she doesn’t really care to ask either, “And I’ll have time to get things in order, so I’ll be honest with you. My name is Harry. I won’t tell you the last name though,” he held out his hand, formally, to shake, “And your name isn’t Antonyia, I’m guessing? That’s who I thought you were.” 

She tentatively takes his hand – she wouldn’t have, if not for the fact that she was wearing a glove too. Their gloved hands meet, and he shakes once, “I’m Y/N,” she replies, “How did you make such a realistic cat sound? Like – that’s the only reason I came in here.” 

The man – Harry – blinks, then shakes his head, “Oh, that wasn’t me, that was just really lucky. Good thing you’re an animal lover,” God, is this guy for real?  “I reckon there is a real cat in here –” he pointed deeper into the alleyway, “It was meowing the whole time, but I think you were scared, so you didn’t hear. Do you want me to go look? You can keep the flashlight on me to make sure I’m not doing anything weird.” 

So Y/N does send him deeper into the alleyway, because she came in here to save a cat, and it almost cost her her life, and she would be saving the fucking cat at the very least. Y/N keeps the flashlight trained on him, watching as he clicks his tongue and calls for whatever cat might be hiding in the alleyway. It takes a while, but soon she hears a gasp, more little chirps, and meows, and then he’s crouching down. When he stands back up, he turns around and makes his way back – when he’s close enough, Y/N can see he’s got a tiny little thing in his arms, covered in mud, and shivering. 

“Poor baby,” he sighs, “She’s freezing, isn’t she? And so stinky, ah – let’s get her home.” 

“It’s a girl?” Y/N tilted her head, “How can you tell?” 

“I can’t,” he answers truthfully, “It’s just a guess. Alright, so my car is kind of far, but –” 

“Do you – I mean, do you mind if we take the subway instead?” 

They do. Harry is kind enough (that’s funny to say) to allow her the small grace of them taking the subway, rather than Y/N really sealing a night of horrible choices by getting in a stranger’s car. Harry holds onto the cat the entire time and chats idly, as if they were old friends who had just bumped into each other. He talks about the weather, about the show that’s being promoted on the top of the subway, and about what he wants for breakfast tomorrow morning. At this point, Y/N is kind of dissociating, so she’s replying but not to her fullest, probably. He doesn’t seem to take any offense to it, though. 

In the light, she can make out his features much better. His eyes are green, his brows are well-groomed, and even his face seems cleanly shaven. His skin looks smooth and soft, like someone who takes delicate care of it. His lips look smooth too, and glossy, and his cheekbones are high. He even has pretty cute dimples. Objectively, he’s handsome and quite pretty, but he was holding a knife to her throat no more than 30-ish minutes ago, so she is still wary. What must his job be, if that’s something he does? Did he work for the mafia? Or just some random gang? Honestly, with how he coos and talks sweetly to the kitten, she doesn’t see how he could be the type of person carrying around a knife at all, but she supposes she’s been wrong in her assessments before. 

He walks her all the way up to her door, where he’s handing over the sodden, muddied kitten that had been a very good girl (boy?) during the entire venture home. Her eyes widened, “Oh, I can’t –” 

“You’ll have to,” he replied decisively, carefully navigating her, “I have some stuff to take care of, since I messed up, haha.” Y/N takes the stinky, muddy kitten in her arms and tries not to think about getting these stains out of her coat and sweater. “Take good care of her, okay? I’ll keep in touch!” 

Then he’s leaving, relatively leisurely for someone who said they had things to take care of. And Y/N is left, holding the dirty kitten, wondering what the hell just happened, because what the fuck. 

What the fuck! 

                                                                     .                       .                     .

Y/N stayed up far too late for someone who needed to be at work this morning. Could you blame her, though? She’d first been humiliated, then went through something incredibly traumatic, and on top of that, had a scared, shivering, starving, and dirty little kitten in her arms. If she had gone to bed at an appropriate time after that, then she’d probably need to be checked in somewhere for a mental exam to make sure she was processing things adequately. 

After Harry left her, she decided to focus all of her attention on the baby that he’d left her with. The kitten doesn’t move around much, which yanks at her heart – she was probably so cold and hungry, Y/N needed to figure something out quickly. So she uses her phone to order a variety of cat-related goods, and what started as just essentials turns into treats, toys, and a warming cat bed. It was scheduled to arrive in 30-ish minutes, since she lives pretty close to a pet store, and the delivery drivers are always making laps around the area (she lives close to several grocery stores, too). She makes a mental note to make a vet appointment for tomorrow after work, but before that, she needs to get the dirt and grime off of this stinky kitten. 

The bath goes better than she’d expected, but again, it makes her heart hurt that the tiny baby is probably most likely so exhausted and hungry that she has little fight left to give. She puts one of her towels in the warmer that Niall sent her the link to three months ago (that had changed her showering life entirely), and fills her sink with warm, sudsy, shampoo-y water. She scrubbed her carefully, gently, stripping her of the dirt and grime. She drained and replaced the water three separate times before it stopped getting murky as she massaged her newly revealed, gray fur. 

She was fluffy and puffy when Y/N dried her with a washcloth at first, getting the majority of the dripping water off of her before she carefully wrapped her in the warm towel. Y/N placed her carefully in the cradle of her lap, then sat in front of the space heater. There was a little rumble at first, which Y/N almost mistook for the heater, but then she felt the lump of towel with a cat head sticking out of it purring, and her heart did another little twitch. The poor thing was so cold and lonely out there, she wanted to cry thinking about it. 

Harry had pretty confidently suggested that she should be close to 8 weeks, and Y/N had asked how he knew that before he launched into a whole thing about their eyes, their mobility, how much weight they should be gaining in a month, etc, etc. To be honest, she’d only been half listening, because she was borderline dissociating the whole trip back to her flat, wondering if she’d actually just drunk too much wine and passed out waiting for her date rather than nearly getting kidnapped. 

As Y/N set up the litter box, the food and water bowls, and the warm bed, she had decided for sure that she wouldn’t be going to the police about this. Harry’s vague threat was enough to scare her, that’s for sure, and even though he seems like he feels bad, she’s certain he would be comfortable killing if it meant keeping him out of jail. Niall and Aki wouldn’t be hearing about it either, at least not until she knows more about this, or until all of this blows over and a few months (or years) pass, and she’s confident Harry doesn’t have her chipped somewhere. Plus, both of them are such big mouths (she says this endearingly), there was no way they could keep it a secret. 

So what happened tonight was between Y/N, the kitten, and Harry. Those would be the only three who knew anything about anything that was going on. Which was alright; Y/N was kind of banking on stuffing this back in the recesses of her mind so she doesn’t get weird about having to pass alleyways or go out on dates that could lead to being stood up. 

“It was just a weird, one-time thing,” Y/N was speaking to herself, but also the kitten, who had just eaten some wet food, drank water, and let Y/N place her in the warm cat bed that she placed on her bedside table (she moved her lamp out of the way for now – she just wanted to keep an eye on her, and it was big enough that she wouldn’t fall right off if she rolled around at all), “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Harry will probably low-key stalk me for a while, realize that I’m not going to say anything, and then leave us alone. Right, kitty?” 

That’s what she expected, at least. The following day, Y/N left the kitten in her bathroom with all of the trinkets she bought for her, along with her food, water, and litter box. On the way into work, she scheduled the vet appointment and, thankfully, got in at a good time with her story. Niall meets her at the time clock today, with an extra coffee in hand, and a bag of a pastry dangling out of his mouth. When Y/N grabs it from him so he can talk, he immediately launches into 1000 apologies and threats towards the guy who stood her up. 

“Seriously, I’ll put a hit out on him.” Niall unintentionally makes a mockery of her current situation, and the irony of it is almost funny enough that she wants to reveal everything that happened. “What a prick! I tore into Ricky about setting you up with such an asshole.” 

Y/N sighed, “You didn’t have to do that, Ni,” she shook her head, “It’s whatever, you know, some people are just stupid. Maybe he just changed his mind and was too embarrassed to cancel.” 

“What he should be embarrassed about is his fuck ass CEO position at a pet food company.” 

“Weren’t you just hyping him up yesterday for that?” 

Niall turned his nose up, “That’s before we found out he was a major dick,” he slid closer to her, so that as they walked, their arms touched. Niall was a touchy-feely guy in general, but it is exacerbated tenfold when he feels bad or guilty about something. She already wasn’t going to tell him about Harry, but if she had been planning to, all of that was thwarted by the way he slid her favorite order in her palm and used his freehand to scratch gently at the nape of her neck. He feels horrible already; if she let him know that she had almost been mistakenly kidnapped and killed, she thinks he’d lose his mind. 

“Really, don’t worry about it, okay? I’m okay. I was sad last night, but I’m just –” I’m honestly, happy to be alive – “ – fine, yeah?” 

“Okay,” he pouts his mouth, “But if you want to talk about it, you know I’m here, right? Aki too – I had to tell her so she didn’t say something stupid.” 

Aki appears suddenly beside them, “I’ve never said a stupid thing a day in my life,” she rebuts, then reaches in to squeeze Y/N’s side, “You know every Baddie has to get stood up at least once or twice? It builds character and makes you extra hot – I read that somewhere, like a Seventeen article or something.” 

“Do they even print that anymore?” Niall inquires, still rubbing at the back of Y/N’s neck – she likes it, so she doesn’t tell him to stop – plus, if she got too weird about her neck, he might inspect a little closer and notice the little cut on her skin. She’d already come up with the elaborate ploy to blame it on the kitten and her clunky, clumsy use of her nails. 

The rest of her morning is relatively normal. She sets up at her desk, reveals to Aki and subsequently Niall (who at this point should just shack up in a desk near theirs, because he’s over there more than he’s at his own space already) that she had found a kitten after being stood up the night prior, and both gasp. Obviously, they want to come meet her, but Y/N tells them she needs to make sure she’s up to date on her shots and more comfortable before they do. She does show them pictures, though, and they coo and awe at her phone loud enough that their floor manager also comes to look. 

They eventually have to work. Y/N answers emails and coordinates dates for different record stores to release an album's special vinyl edition. She worries her lip between her teeth when she starts thinking too much about what happened last night, then shoves it to the back of her head when she decides to focus on the new addition to her flat waiting for her at home. Actually, anytime the flutter of Harry tries to tiptoe back into her head, she swats him like a fly out of it. Imagining a miniature version of the man she met last night flying away from her head after being hit by the miniature guard version of her that patrols her brain – makes her giggle, at least. 

It’s around lunchtime that the front desk receptionist shows up at Y/N’s cubicle before she has the chance to flee with Niall and Aki to the cafe down the road. In her hands is a huge bouquet of wildflowers, an assortment of pinks, purples, and periwinkle blues. “These came for you!” She grinned at Y/N, clearly giddied by flowers sent, “I didn’t know you were dating anyone!” 

“Oh, I’m not,” Y/N’s brows raised, taking the bouquet by the glass vase, “Ah? Are you sure it’s mine?” 

“Positive,” she replied as she started walking away, the front desk phone ringing. “They were sent for you by first and last name.” 

Y/N spots a card in the midst of the flowers, nestled between what looks like lavender, and she plucks it from the center. On one side is her name, and on the other is a little note. 

Sorry again about last night ( • ᴗ - ) ✧ - H

Her eyes widen as she reads over it, before she quickly stuffs it inside her work bag hanging open at her feet. Thankfully, Aki was in the bathroom, and Niall’s nosy ass was just far enough that she could get away with it before he made it to her desk. It would be too difficult to backpedal and try to explain the card when she’s pretty sure the guy she was supposed to meet did not have a name that began with H. Not only that, the wording suggests that they had spoken with each other and he’d already apologized, which he hadn’t (asshole), and Aki and Niall both already know that. Clearly, Harry doesn’t care if she seems like a liar whose story isn’t straight in front of her friends  – that or he’s trying to test her. 

“Holy fuck, look at the size of that!” Niall exclaims, dangling over the side of her cubicle again, and Aki lets out her own gasp when she comes back, letting her fingers touch and graze different parts of the plant, “I guess dickhead thought this was going to fix it all, hm? Did he leave a card?” 

Y/N shook her head, keeping her gaze locked on the flowers as if she were marveling at them, only because she knew Niall could scan her face and read her lie in 3 seconds flat. “No, this is crazy,” she murmured, because, objectively, it was. To Niall and Aki, it would make sense how the CEO of the pet food guy would know where she worked, because he was Niall’s friend of a friend, and Niall’s friend would have an idea where Niall worked. But to Y/N, who knows that it was the guy who had just pressed a knife to her throat the night prior – she knew there was no way for him to know without him having done something creepy. Whether it was somehow look into her, on whatever weird, fucked up software hitmen have, or he followed her this morning. Both were equally horrible, she feels. 

The logical part of her brain told her that he’d basically told her he was going to do this the night before. He literally said I’ll keep in touch – she just hadn’t thought it’d be in the form of apology flowers. Or, well, threatening flowers. She isn’t sure – she couldn’t get a read on that guy at all! Part of her could see where this was a thinly veiled threat disguised as a flowery, spring-y gift, like a ‘See, I know where you work, so you better keep your mouth shut,’ kind of thing. But the other part of her could imagine that, as weirdly apologetic and helpful as he was after the fact, these were a genuine peace offering. She couldn’t decide. How quickly he switched up his attitude once he realized she wasn’t the woman he was after made it hard to tell what kind of person he was. Did he have split personalities? Maybe you had to, to do the work that he does. If she could even tell what that work was – she’s really just guessing. 

And what was up with the emoji after?

“Guys always think flowers are going to make up for their shitty disposition,” Aki clicks her tongue, taking the vase out of Y/N’s hand, and setting it on their shared space in between them, “But we needed some garnish for our desk, it’s been looking extra depressing lately. You know, we should really look into decorating it all cutesy.” 

“Please do, I reckon we could really liven it up with your Hentai collection.”

Aki rolls her eyes, “I think you mean your Hentai collection, you fucking perv.” 

Y/N is thankful for her friend’s varying levels of attention deficits that get the heat off her quicker. The back of her neck feels hot, and she feels a curl in her stomach – it feels wrong to lie to them, but it felt like she didn’t have much of a choice. It was either that or Harry would probably kill her, so she’s sure that they would understand if it came down to it. The note that he sent is burning a hole through her bag; she can practically feel it radiating heat. Her fingers itch to grab it, but what would it matter if she did? Rereading it wouldn’t help – it’s not like there would be some clue or something. 

She needs to view it as a weird, hybrid apology/threat and go about her day. 

So that’s what she does. The rest of her day is as normal as the first half had been before lunch, and her boss lets her leave a little early for the vet appointment. She beats the evening rush of people going home on the subway, then makes it to her flat in record time, all without being accosted by some random criminal. The kitten is happy to see her, chirping and meowing loudly when she opens the door to greet her. Last night, she had purchased a small, collapsible crate, and she coaxed the kitten inside it with treats, then stuffed Y/N’s winter scarf inside so that she could smell it. 

The vet went well – better than she thought for a stray kitty. Y/N finds out that she is, in fact, a girl. They did a flea check, and there were none, thank god, because Y/N had not considered that a possibility when she let her sleep beside her bed. Preventative dewormers, a broad-spectrum antibiotic for what they told her was a respiratory infection, an ointment for her left eye that was looking red during the exam, a vaccine schedule for the coming months, and a day to be spayed. They also give her an idea of what sort of food would be best for her, concerning her age and other factors. Y/N appreciates that they aren’t trying to force her into purchasing the food they have at the counter. There’s also a new patient sign-on bonus and a discount for stray care (since they require more interventions than a run-of-the-mill adoption, but they want to encourage people to help strays on the street). 

Leaving the vet, Y/N felt a lot better about the situation. She was going to stop at the pet store again, to get the food they suggested, though she was starting to panic about how she was going to carry all of this home. Y/N had the (now) sleeping cat in the crate, a bag full of meds, and the thought of adding a huge thing of food to that seems just horrific. 

Whether by the grace of the universe or as another slap to her face, she hears an all too familiar voice. 

“Oh, good, you took her to the vet,” Y/N whips her head around to see Harry, but he looks much different than he did during their first meeting. No dark clothes and black hoodie, no black mask, and no knife – at least none that she could see. He probably has it strapped to his ankle or something, “I was worried you’d just drop her off at a shelter or something. There are plenty of no-kill ones in the area, but you know, sweet kittens can get lost in the cracks there sometimes.” 

When he reaches out to let the kitten sniff his hands, Y/N pulls the carrier closer to her, regarding him doubtfully, “What are you doing here?” She inquires, “You don’t have to follow me, I’m not going to tell.” 

Harry’s brows raise, “Huh? I’m not following you. I was getting a tea,” he holds up the boba cup in his left hand, shaking it around, then reaches into his pocket and produces a punch card, with ten cups scribbled out, “I come here all the time, it’s my favorite. This was my 10th one, so the next time it’s free. You can ask Gladys, I’m her favorite customer.” 

She relaxes a little – there’s something about Harry that is very convincing. . .she doesn’t know. Maybe it’s a part of his job to be convincing, whatever his specific job title is. He seems so unsuspecting and normal right now, Y/N is starting to wonder if she’d hallucinated the whole attempted kidnapping and knife to throat part. How could this guy, who is in a white shirt with a lamb on it, a zipped-up windbreaker, and athletic shorts, be the same person she’d met last night? He’s got sunglasses pressing his hair up and out of his face, and in this light, his eyes are very green. Really, the only suspicious-looking thing about him was the fact that he had a small bag strapped across his body, which really could be holding anything. It was decorated with pins and keychains, though. Would someone really keep something nefarious in a bag that had a patchwork cat with big button eyes dangling off the side of it? 

“Oh,” she replied, “Well, after the flowers I just thought – I don’t know.” 

“The flowers,” Harry repeated, tilting his head, “You didn’t like them? But you had wildflowers on your doormat?” 

She blinked, “No, I liked them! They were pretty, but I just thought you sending them to my job was like a threat or something.” 

His eyes went wide again, “A threat? Jeez, you are very distrusting. Which is wise, sure, but you should be just a little more trusting sometimes, your life would be much more lax.” It was a crazy thing to say, all things considered, but he continued as if he didn’t realize how stupid what he just said was, “Your hands are kind of full? Do you need help?” 

Would it be stupid to agree to this? Of course it would – this man is probably dangerous! He is dangerous, and she doesn’t know the extent of what he could do or to whom he does it. But it’s like. . .he already knows where she lives. And the thought of lugging a 6kg bag of food around, plus her work bag, plus the cat, and all her meds. . .it just seems like a lot, really. She also thinks that if he was going to actually hurt her, he would’ve done it in the dark alleyway that he found her in, and not in broad daylight outside of a boba place and an animal clinic. 

“Actually, would you help me carry this home? I need to stop at the pet store and get food for her. They think she should be on a semi-special diet – one for sensitive tummies.”

He easily took the crate from her hands, fixing his fingers around the straps at the top, “Ahh, I see – they probably put her on a lot of meds, right? Sometimes those antibiotics can be really harsh on the stomach.” 

“Yeah,” she told him as they started walking – the pet store wasn’t very far, and she’d really prefer not to walk in silence, honestly, it’d give her way too much time to think. And right now she can’t really think, or she’ll overthink, so she just talks – maybe she’d even be able to get some information out of him. Not that she really needs anything. She doesn’t want to be involved, but she’d just like to know how involved he’s actually going to be with her, so that it could settle her mind. “Um, do you know a lot about cats?” 

Harry turns and looks at her with a smile, nodding, “I foster them from time-to-time,” he explains, “Every couple of months. But then I get attached. They’re usually medically complex, so they need a lot of time and attention and love, and when work gets busy, I’m unable to provide all they need, so I don’t adopt them officially, even though I really want to.” 

“Oh, that. . .was not what I was expecting,” Y/N thought he’d admit to growing up with a cat or something – maybe saving a stray once a long time ago, or knowing a friend of a friend who did. She guesses it makes sense, though, how comfortably he’d been cradling the kitten to his chest the night before. And she was surprised to find that there were fluctuations in his work, but this at least gave her an opening to ask, “So, I’m not trying to be nosy or anything, but what is it that you do, exactly?” 

Harry hums low, tucks the straw into the corner of his mouth, and takes a drink. It doesn’t seem like he’s stalling, though. “Well, officially, and as far as the government and my family are concerned, I work remotely as a financial advisor for some of the wealthier people in the area. I got my degree in finance with an emphasis on business administration.” 

Y/N slides her work back from her left shoulder to her right, rolling out the tension that had started to form from having it hooked and heavy over her arm for so long, “And unofficially?” She prompts, and the corner of Harry’s lips twitches in something of a soft smile. 

“Ah, there really isn’t a name for that.” He tells her, “Just some part-time stuff.” 

She blinks at him, “I guess I was just wondering how much this part-time stuff was going to involve like. . .like watching me, or whatever.” Y/N gently prods, “I understand why you have to, I guess, but just – like knowing what you’re doing and when you’re doing it would make me feel a little better about it all. At least I think it will.” 

Harry is quiet for a moment, like he’s contemplating his response. Finally, it seems like he’s having an appropriate response to the situation, though his gentle and overall flippant, calm, and otherwise friendly attitude has kept her calmer than she thinks she would have been otherwise. There’s something about him that is just. . .it makes her let her guard down, a little – she can feel it. Y/N doesn’t even know if she’d have felt comfortable enough to let the CEO come with her to the petstore, yet here she is with this stranger. A stranger, who was probably far more threatening than he let on. 

“Again, I’m telling you a lot here,” he finally began, “Only because I feel so bad for what happened last night. The fact that you got stood up and got mixed up in shitty, rich people bullshit. I just have to track you for a little while; it would make the people I work for feel a lot better, and I’d rather it be me than them sending someone else. Especially since I’m the one who got you involved in all of this.” He waves his hands around, motioning like he was referring to the bigger picture, but ends up bopping the kitten around a bit in her crate, “So, full disclosure: I’m tracking calls and texts, and I know when you leave your flat and where you’re going! Otherwise, I’m leaving you be.” He smiles like it’s something to be proud of, and something that she should appreciate. “Today, though, I really wasn’t following you. I’d already been getting my tea when you showed up, and I wanted to greet you to check-in. If I were really following you and didn’t want you to know, then you wouldn’t.” 

That was an unsettling note to end it on, for sure, “I – uh. . .I appreciate the honesty,” she nods, swallowing. 

Harry sighs, almost comically, dragging a thumb across his brow, “Ah, you’re so understanding! I’m glad we got that settled; it was kind of eating away at me, too,” he replied, “Anyway, I’d suggest staying away from that CEO; he’s under a lot of scrutiny right now, by a lot of angry rich men – definitely not the place to be. I’m one of the kinder options of my colleagues, so it would be a shame if someone else mistook you for Antonyia.”  He tucked his cup between his bicep and chest before using his newly free hand to squeeze her shoulder, and Y/N tenses under the grip but doesn’t pull away. “Anyway, what are you going to name her?” 

“Pardon?” Y/N’s head is reeling, her thoughts tied up in disjointed knots. 

“The baby?” Harry holds up the crate, “Her name? Have you given it any thought?” 

Y/N finally registered what he was asking her and shook her head, “Ah, no, I haven’t,” she answered honestly, “I’ve just been so focused on getting her settled that a name has completely slipped from my mind.” 

A gentle hum leaves Harry, almost sounding like a purr himself, but then she realizes the kitten is purring in her crate, and when Y/N peers through the side window, she sees her kneading the scarf she has in there. Her heart felt soft as Harry spoke, “Let’s name her Muffy.” 

“Muffy?” Y/N tilted her head, “Do you mean Miffy? Like the rabbit.” 

“No, silly, I mean Muffy. Like a Muffy.” 

The kitten stretches up to the little window and presses the soft, new skin of toe beans up against the wall. They had somehow stayed so soft, even after her rough life on the streets, and Y/N thinks that’s nice. Really, the only indication that she had been in an alleyway the night before was the small tear in the thin skin of her ear. Her big eyes either plead with her to not name her Muffy or to keep the name Muffy – she really doesn’t know. 

“Okay,” Y/N agreed,  “Muffy it is.” 

“Yay! Muff for short,” he smiled, “And when she hops off the bed during midnight zoomies, we can call it Muff Diving.” 

Y/N doesn’t know who this “we” is, but she lets it go as they walk into the pet store.  

It was interesting. Harry suggested a cart because, allegedly, they couldn’t just come here to get pet food and nothing else. He was telling her all of the things that she needed with the bag of food. More toys that are “mentally stimulating”, a small cat treat, scratchers for her nails, a special brand of shampoo, and conditioner. He loads her cart, all while talking her ear off about how important every one of these items is to ensure success for Muffy’s life. Y/N has no choice but to believe him, all things considered – he did allegedly foster cats and seemed pretty knowledgeable about it all. And since he would be there to help carry, she was okay with it. The only slightly off-putting thing he said the whole trip was when they were near the beds and he murmured, “You’ve already got one of those, so we’re good here.” Which meant – yeah, for sure, he was somehow in her phone – but she tries not to think about that. 

He carries all the heavy things while she carries the kitten and the lesser full bags. Harry doesn’t complain, and she thinks that if his jacket were off, his biceps would be bulging out of his sleeves. They felt big last night when they were wrapped around her at least, and she was, for the most part, immobile. He barely breaks a sweat on the entire walk to her car, or when they discover the elevator is down and have to trek up the stairwell. 

Once they get to her flat, he politely turns his head when she punches the code into her keypad and then only steps inside the very front door to set the things on the floor. 

“Ah, thanks for letting me tag along,” he smiles, as if he’d asked to go, “Anyway, I’ve got somewhere to be like –” he checks his watch, “30 minutes ago. Do you mind if I set a camera up outside your door?” 

“Um, a little?” 

Harry gives a nod, “You’re right. Okay, bye!” 

Y/N unzips Muffy, who ambles out of her carrier and then stares at Y/N with eyes that could only suggest Hey, what the hell is up with that guy? 

“I don’t know, Muffy,” she clicks her tongue, “Let's get you fed.” 

                                                                 .                       .                      .

The coming weeks were uneventful. 

Work was busy as ever, but that’s to be expected. As the rollout for one album progressed, they started the beginnings of marketing for another, so the team was divided in half, heavying the workload on both ends. Their days were so jam-packed with meetings, calls, creating playlists that include new singles, and promotion of an upcoming tour –  that Niall could only stop by Y/N and Aki’s desk 30 times, which is far less than his typical 93 a day. Everyone is a little miserable, but their trio especially, because they have been afforded no time to be even a little silly.  Aki, every so often, will take one of her hair clips off her head and scrape it against Y/N’s scalp to clip it, which offers three giggles before they are reduced to silence again. Y/N has been halfway arguing with the production team of a talk show to briefly mention the album, because there are two separate covers, and for some reason they are stuck on the risque one being too much for TV (“Which is why you would use the single’s album artwork, as discussed in the prior email.”). 

So, yeah, work sucks, but it shoves all of what happened last month to the back of her head like a distant memory. The only proof that it had occurred was Muffy toddling around her flat, now done with her antibiotics and becoming more and more comfortable with the space (Y/N has even taken to letting her roam around the flat in her absence rather than shutting her away in the bathroom when she’s at work). Otherwise, she hadn’t heard from Harry or seen him, which she doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. He had told her that she wouldn’t know if he was following her or not, which she thought would make her more nervous, but it turns out she really doesn’t care. It’s not even like she feels prickles on the back of her neck or anything. Either Harry is really sneaky, or he’s too busy to be following her at all.

Even the little scar on her neck had since faded, replaced by many scars on her hands and thighs from someone who isn’t in the best control of their claws yet (her name rhymed with Tuffy). The flowers he’d sent had withered and wilted, so Aki threw them out, and the card he’d sent with them, Y/N, had tucked somewhere on her desk at home, so it was surely lost. It really did seem like just a bad dream. Or a very vivid, wine-induced hallucination. 

On a Friday, she, Niall, and Aki go for drinks. They needed it, for sure; their clock-out time is typically 5 PM, but the three of them ended up staying until closer to 7, merely because they’re good friends and excellent coworkers. Y/N and Aki were pretty much finished up with their end of the marketing for the newly released album, but the other project that Niall’s team got placed on was still in the working phases, and at its most difficult when promoting the single of a relatively new artist. It was always a little harder to get different ads and influencers on board advertising someone that they weren’t familiar with. However, Niall was in luck to have two friends deeply invested in social media, who knew that someone making a really good edit to a song was a sure-fire way to get people interested. So long as they had a clip of it that they could utilize. 

Still, contacting the artist’s team to get a clip of the song takes time, explaining their thought process takes time, and then hoping that whatever college student is pouring their heart and soul into editing their favorite celebrities in high definition is willing to bite. They eat there, ordering takeout for themselves and the janitorial staff on their floor that stays late. Niall, who had been in desperate need of physical contact for the past couple of weeks, was practically glued to her and Aki at every move they made. At some point, he was practically in Y/N’s lap while she was on the phone because he knew that she couldn’t tell him to shove off. 

The extra time together hadn’t been enough, she guesses, because all of them are game to go out afterward. Especially when Niall tells them that the bar closest to them has half-priced drinks until 10 PM. 

Y/N is about two drinks in (and two drinks short of being ready to have this happen) when her phone buzzes on the table in front of them. She sees that it’s a text from the contact STUPID DUMB FUCKING PET FOOD GUY (it used to just be ‘pet food guy’, but after that night, she’d changed it in a fit of rage), and her heart drops to her stomach. 

I’m so sorry about the other night. Something came up that I had to take care of, and time got away from me. 

I should have messaged you, though, sooner, but I was embarrassed. 

Would you let me make it up to you? Are you free sometime next week? 

“Who’s messaging you?” Aki hooks her chin over Y/N’s shoulder, squinting (she desperately needs to renew her contact prescription but refuses) at her screen, which garners Niall’s attention, who also leans into Y/N’s space, “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” 

Niall’s brows furrowed, “Is he joking? That was literally last month! That’s so obnoxious. Give me the phone so I can call him a dumb fuck.” 

“I’m. . .wow. That’s – wow. Men actually might be the stupidest things to walk this planet.” Y/N blinks at her phone, “I’m going to turn my read receipts on, so he sees I saw it.” 

Aki and Niall are nodding, “Yes, yes,” they agreed, then Aki goes on to say, “C’mon, Ni, let's get her more drinks. We’re getting you more drinks and a basket of fries.” 

“Why do I have to go?” 

“Because we’re putting it on your tab, babe.” 

Y/N is left at the table, angrily putting her read receipts on. It’s so stupid, honestly, because he was indirectly responsible for her almost getting killed and halfway getting stalked over it! He was also indirectly responsible for Muffy, which pisses her off, because she refuses to give him credit for anything good in her life. And her sweet little Muffy is the light of her life. 

Her phone buzzes again, and she suspects that it’s the CEO (what was his real name again?), but it’s an unknown number. Y/N’s brows dip, and now she’s squinting at her screen in a similar way to Aki. 

Wow, what a douchebag. 

Do you want me to block him for you? I can sign him up for the church of Scientology while I’m at it.

Y/N has a feeling deep in her loins that this is Harry. He had told her that he was inside of her phone – honestly, he’s probably the most honest man in her life next to Niall, and she’s only met him twice in person. Honestly, Y/N should probably be more worked up about that, but at this point, she’s more worked up about this guy thinking he could message her a month after the fact, and she would answer him and go out. What the hell does he even want to do with her anyway? It’s not like she’s a model, a millionaire, and he’s got no indication whether or not she has a good personality – so what would possess him to message her? 

She could ignore Harry’s message, but she doesn’t. Y/N lets her fingers slide across the keyboard while Aki and Niall are busy, because as much as she loves them, they are very nosy and in her business, so they’re always reading over her shoulder. Y/N’s lucky his message was sent when it did rather than when they were still over here, because she has no idea how she would have explained that. 

Hahahahaha, I know right, he’s a fucking prick

I’ll block him later. I sort of want to see if he explains himself 

The Scientology thing would be cool tho

Harry hearts the message. Y/N clicks out of the thread just as Aki and Niall are returning, and Aki already has a fry tucked between her teeth, “Baby, they gave us two baskets!” She cheers at her, sliding them onto the table, “Has he messaged anymore? We saw you on your phone.” 

Y/N shook her head, “No, I was just on Twitter,” she lied, a little bit of guilt welling in her belly. She really didn’t like lying to them, but she has to move on. “Should we eat these and then go dance? My bones feel jittery, like they need to move.” 

“Oh my god, yes,” Aki breathes a sigh through his nose, “That sounds beautiful. Do you think the DJ takes requests? I’ve always wanted to close my eyes and exist in the same sphere as Charlie XCX blasting since BRAT summer.” 

“You’re in luck, it’s a jukebox, not a DJ – we need to download the app though.” 

Y/N is still able to have fun – that isn’t a hard feat with the two she’s with, that’s for sure, but there’s still something niggling at the back of her head. She just can’t brush it off. How weird it is that he’d choose now to send her a message? Was he really just that stupid? Had he forgotten about her entirely, and then the guilt of it clawed at the back of his throat? She really didn’t think he even knew her enough to feel guilty about it, if she’s honest. It was just weird is all. Like an ex that messages you when they sense your emotional stability is a little too well-balanced. 

Harry must think it’s odd, too, for him to message her. He’s weird, sure, and she hadn’t heard from him for about a month either, but had he suspected this was her involvement in something greater, Y/N doesn’t think he would have messaged her. He would have let her respond and seen how the conversation went, then probably do away with her for lying to him if it seemed in any way sketchy. Though at this point, Y/N thinks Harry could be fairly confident she had nothing to do with anything that he initially thought. She also thinks he could be pretty certain she wasn’t going to go to the police about this, either, at this point.

Y/N was content on pretending that all of it never happened, and gaslighting herself into believing that she’d found Muffy in a completely normal, sane, work-friendly story way. 

They actually don’t stay out very late. By the time they’re leaving, Y/N and Aki had sobered up a fair amount, but Niall was about ten sheets to the wind. It sucks, because those two take a different subway than she does to her home stop, and she really didn’t want to go alone. But she didn’t want to leave Muffy home alone for the night just yet, and already felt like she was damaging the poor cat’s psyche by not coming home the time she usually does. And as fun as it was to wrestle a still ready to party Niall out of his outside clothes and into bed, she desperately wanted to be submerged in the bathtub and then snuggled in her bed. She’d just washed her sheets last night, so they were still fresh and smelling like fabric softener. 

Everything was okay until she and the others actually had to split ways. Then, when Y/N was on a subway car by herself (save for a handful of other strangers surrounding her, all various states of disarray, from just about to start their night to clearly ending it), she starts to get paranoid. She really does not like taking the subway by herself, but it’s either a well-lit underground cart or she’s trekking more than 5km home alone in the dark. And Y/N would rather take her chances with a couple of drug-induced waves of hysteria surrounded by equally dumbfounded strangers. 

Even after getting off the subway, she has a couple of blocks to walk before she’s at her flat building. Fridays were typically busier, but she still didn’t live in the most exciting part of town, so even being busy was a little too empty for her liking. The click of her shoes against the pavement echoes hauntingly, and the sound of her breath is too loud. She can hear the rapid thud of her heartbeat. It’s a little too similar to last month, when all of this started, only it was much warmer in the night than it had been then. She doesn’t see the smoky plumes of her breath in front of her mouth this time, but she still curls her arms around her upper half anyway. 

Her phone is fixed in a tight grip. She would call Aki, but she knows they’re still in the subway and the service is shit on their route. Y/N swallows thickly and looks back behind her, wondering why her city didn’t seem to believe in an obscene amount of street lights and advertisements with huge, bright LED lettering. It would make her feel a lot better about traveling. 

Y/N keeps looking behind her, though, and when she spots someone a few meters behind her, her heart starts racing faster. She doesn’t know if he has anything to do with anything, but her brain has convinced her that he totally does. And he isn’t the same frame or stature as what she remembered Harry was, even when most of his body was hidden in all his bulky clothes. This guy wears a similar black hoodie and hat, from what she can tell. She swallows hard again, dragging her gaze ahead of herself again. She passes a couple leaning against the brick of a closed bakery, sharing a cigarette whose scent burns its way through her nose. Y/N could have stopped with them, pretended to bum a smoke off them, and see if the mysterious, cloaked in a black hoodie figure, kept moving along, but she decided against it. What if it is one of Harry’s deranged coworkers, and she gets two innocent strangers involved in her mess? Then she’d be no better than the dick fuck that got her interwoven in it. 

Clutching her phone, Y/N doesn’t spare too many thoughts about what she does next. The idea of it had popped into her head as soon as she was feeling paranoid, but it also seemed kind of crazy to do. It’s not like she could entirely trust him, either, but for whatever reason, her chances felt better with him rather than the guy behind her, all things considered. The glass on her screen has condensation from her sweaty palm as she clicks on her message thread and finds where Harry had sent her the text, right at the top. She has no clue if this is his actual number or not, but she clicks it anyway, lets it take her to the contact screen, and presses the phone icon to call. 

It rings twice before it clicks over, Harry’s voice low and a little syrupy, “Hello?” He sounded groggy, almost – had he been asleep? Y/N twists around to look behind her again, and the stranger is not holding a phone to his ear and muffling his voice at all. Both hands are still in their pocket, suspiciously, “Y/N? What’s wrong?” 

“One of your colleagues wouldn’t happen to be following me, right?” Y/N cut right to it, feeling like there was no time to beat around the bush, “Like, do you guys have a standard uniform of black hoodie, black beanie, or was that just a you thing?” 

Harry makes a noise in his throat, “I only wore that because I wanted to completely disappear into the alleyway. Otherwise, wearing all black like that can be more suspicious than anything.” Y/N thinks she can hear the sound of a mattress on the other end, or maybe a sofa. Something settling beneath the shift of weight, definitely, “As far as I’m concerned, nobody should be following you at all. I’m assigned to you as of now, since it was my fault you got involved. The others thought it’d be better to pay you off or do away with you at first, but I convinced them otherwise.” 

Her stomach turns, “Yeah, well, I don’t know if I’m being paranoid or if someone is actually following me, but I’m feeling –” scared, “--annoyed. Like, if someone is following me right now, that’s so annoying.” 

“Where are you? I’ll come get you.” 

“No, it’s fine, I just – will you just stay on the phone for a second? Until I know whether or not this is something to be panicking over?” 

Harry hums, softly, “Yes, of course,” he replies, “I’ll stay on with you until you get home, yeah?” 

She’s quiet for a second, turning to look behind her again, and her shoulders sag when she watches the guy pausing to light a cigarette, the ember glowing in the dark as he waits at the bottom of a stoop. The door opens – Y/N can hear the greeting of someone from far away, and Y/N sees a woman hook her purse over her arm as she shuts and locks the door behind her. She probably looks creepy, gawking from afar like this, but she watches them link hands and turn in the opposite direction from her. 

Y/N sighs into the phone, “Fuck,” she gives a breathless laugh, and Harry hums a little. 

“What? What is it?” 

“It was just some random guy,” she admits, turning back around and walking with a little less tension-ridden muscles than she had been, “God, who just walks around in a black hoodie with it up? It’s like – early spring, it’s nice out right now! 

“Ah, men are weird,” Harry tells her, “Reckon it’s programmed in most of them to unintentionally look like the sketchiest person when they’re just walking down the street. There needs to be a course in schools about how not to look menacing.” 

Y/N huffed a laugh, “Yeah, I – thank you, for that. Sorry to call – did I wake you up?” 

“Don’t worry about it! Really, it’s the least I can do,” he drops something on the other end of the line, and it thuds – he murmurs a cuss under his breath about a shoe, then grunts when she assumes he bends down to pick it up, “I fell asleep on the couch, yeah. I was up late last night.” 

Her mind starts racing immediately. Y/N imagines Harry in several scenarios, all in rapid succession. Him sneaking along the perimeter of some billionaire’s estate, lurking until he finds a faulty spot in the security system, and crawls through an open window. Him in some abandoned warehouse, in the middle of a shootout, where he’s hidden behind barrels of who knows what. Him on a dock, beating information out of someone, pulling off fingernails until he admits that there was a under the books deal with Friskies cat treats or something. 

“Oh, was it... work-related?” 

Would he tell her? Was he allowed to? Did someone listen to his phone conversations? Y/N is still pretty confused about what the hell it was he was doing. When she’d asked before, Harry made it sound like he was just some part-timer helping out with odd jobs, not interwoven with some sketchy crime syndicate. 

“Not at all,” he replied easily, “I got caught up watching Stranger Things and finishing out the last season. Hated how it ended, though, so then I stayed up watching video essays about it online.” 

That was. . .not what she expected. Harry is quite full of surprises. 

She laughs a little again, “Yeah, I saw a lot of people weren’t happy with it,” she scratches the side of her neck, just below her jawbone, “Alright, I won’t keep you on. I’m sorry for waking you again.” 

“No, don’t apologize, seriously. And keep me on the phone,” he added, “At least until you get home safely. Tell me about my sweet Muffy. Is she adjusting well?” 

Y/N stays on the phone with him, because honestly, she hadn’t wanted to hang up at all; she’d just been trying to be considerate. At least in this moment, in her slightly tipsy state, something is soothing about his voice on the phone. Even if this very same voice had threatened her not too long ago, his drawl is slow and thoughtful, like he’s choosing his words carefully. He listens well, asks the right questions, and does not give off ‘finance bro’ vibes at all, which is refreshing (their finance team at work is the worst, honestly, like leftover greek row alumni that wouldn’t let their fraternity days go – Niall had fucked his way through at least half of them at this point, and they all sucked. . .literally and figuratively). 

This definitely wasn’t healthy or probably appropriate,  but neither was any of this, so – she thought it was okay to use this weird dynamic for her advantage just this one time. Y/N felt safer on the phone, and Harry seemed okay with staying on it, all the way until she was in front of her door. 

“I see you made it home,” he noted, “Do you feel safe now?” 

Y/N’s brows furrowed, “How’d you know I made it home? Hey, I thought I told you not to put a camera out here.” 

“I didn’t! I just have your location, remember?” 

“Oh yeah, my bad,” she giggles again, typing in her keycode and slipping into her flat, really feeling all the tension leaving her joints and muscles the moment she locks her door, slips the bar lock closed at the top, and then uses her additional, portable door lock as a tertiary line of defense. “Yeah, I’m okay now. Thank you again for staying on the phone with me.” 

“Again, don’t even mention it,” she can imagine him waving his hands, like he’s brushing her gratitude to the side – he gesticulates quite often when he speaks, or at least he did in their brief meetings, “I’m glad you made it home safely. Give Muffy lots of kisses from me.” 

When they get off the phone, Y/N finds herself. . .kind of wishing they had stayed on. Which is crazy. She tries to convince herself that she only wishes they would’ve, so she could have poked his brain on why he thinks the CEO would have messaged her randomly tonight, but she knows that isn’t the case. Honestly, she’d forgotten all about that when they were just talking. 

Y/N had always considered herself the more well-adjusted of her friends, but she’s starting to find that hard to believe now. There’s no way a well-adjusted person would be reacting to this situation like this, she thinks. Hell, tonight was the first time she’d felt genuine fear since it all started, and she’s certain she probably should have been feeling paranoia and worry to that extent this entire time. 

But there is something about Harry and knowing that he was watching her, to some degree, that was. . .disarming, she thinks, is the word for it. Maybe it was the blatant honesty that gave her a sense of security in him, whether it was false or not. She isn’t sure, and she thinks that if she looks too deeply into it, it’ll drive her crazy. 

So she chooses to ignore it instead. Muffy greets her in the living room, and when she plucks her up, she presses kisses to the top of her head. 

                                                            .                          .                        .

Y/N is shit at bowling. 

Like, seriously, she’s the worst at it. Somehow, she gets roped into a bowling extravaganza every month by Niall, who owns his own platinum blue bowling ball that was customized to the shape of his very hand. When he’d first mentioned liking bowling, Y/N told him she enjoyed it too, but they were talking about two very different types. Y/N enjoyed the kind where you’re with your friends, silly names on the board, negging each other for bumper balls, and finding creative ways to roll the ball down the lane. Niall enjoyed the competitive, you’re against strangers, critiquing techniques, and the toe of your shoe better not cross that line type of bowling. 

Y/N found out his approach to the sport was far different than her own, and while she was imagining Niall putting a name like Monster Cock on the scoreboard and sneaking in a flask of tequila, he was wondering where Y/N’s custom ball was. She never did come clean about what she suspected, mostly because he just seemed to happy to have someone to practice with, before his competitions. Even when he found out Y/N was horrible at it, he was stoked to create a proper training regimen to help her get better. And to see the fruits of his labor when she got her first (completely accidental) strike? Y/N doesn’t think he’s ever been so proud of her. 

It makes Y/N happy to make Niall smile. For as obnoxious as he was, he was her very first friend when she started at this company three years ago, feeling battered and beaten from her last job, and coming out of a ridiculously convoluted situationship. Her first day on, the woman who trained her (who has since left the job, thankfully) ripped her a new one about how she formatted emails and her less-than-proficient use of Excel (even though use of Excel had not been on the job description and she’d even been honest with them during her interview, that she knew bare minimum and they still hired her!), and Y/N’s only option was to find somewhere to cry during her lunch break. 

There was a spot on the fourth floor that Y/N thought would be very popular among the workers there. It was set up like a cafe, almost, with a self-serve station and a basket of snacks that were routinely swapped out for new ones. They also had a microwave, a hot water spout, tea bags, and various syrups of all different flavors to mix in your coffee. There were windows, very big and slanted, that took up the entirety of one wall, which always had plenty of light pouring into it from the outside world. That’s what Y/N thought would have been the selling point to get people sitting in the booths and tables they had set up here. 

But in this particular spot, not only was the service bad, but during the extremes of weather – either very hot, or very cold – the windows made sure you felt every bit of it. On nicer days, sometimes there’s a couple of people, but enough below-freezing days and sweltering hot mornings have steered people clear of it. So during her lunch break, she charges her ass up there, finds the booth in the furthest corner, and tucks herself away to cry. It just turns out that Niall, who had only started a year before her, also storms up there to have a good cry. And when they are confronted with the other one, all teary eyes and frowning faces, because it turns out that their floor is not kind to new orientees. 

So he scooted into the seat across from her, a big pouted lip as he wiped away the tears in his eyes, “Lorraine is a huge bitch.” He tells her, sniffling, “She’s shitty with all her orientees, so don’t take it to heart.” 

Y/N nodded, knuckling at her left eye, leaving the side of her finger all wet, “And Victor has a stick up his ass, I heard he’s always too hard on new people.” She’s referring to Niall’s trainer. They both giggled, shared a muffin, and then exchanged numbers and have been in each other’s business ever since. (And Aki was trained by Y/N, who had been a year in and not feeling like an imposter too much anymore, so she made sure to give her a far better experience. Aki still cried, but that was because Y/N was being too reassuring when she screwed something up, and she’s got some intense ‘former prodigy child’ stuff to work through.) 

There are no secrets between them, not really, but keeping Niall out of the loop of Harry has been making her feel pretty guilty lately. So when Niall told her it was about time for his yearly bowling competition and he needed to start training, Y/N obviously offered to go with him. He always wipes the floor with her, but she tries her best, and they do have fun, even when Niall gets weirdly serious about her technique. 

So that’s where they are now – at the newly renovated bowling alley that was equipped with an arcade that she and Niall would definitely stop at and try to get stuffies from the claw machines. The food is pretty good here too, and after a particularly gruelling match (Niall almost doubles her score), he’ll treat her to a milkshake. They won’t actually eat the burgers like they used to because then they have all of fifteen minutes to get home before they shit themselves. 

It’s the usual crowd here on a Saturday morning. There’s a birthday party taking up the last two lanes on the left, which accounts for most of the bowlers here today. Other than about 10 kids and a couple of parents, there was a group of six people with greying hair in the classic bowling button-ups that Y/N is surprised Niall doesn’t own one of. The later into the night, the crazier and more hectic this place gets, with teenagers and tweens, because you only have to be above 12 to enter without an adult, so they run amok here. For that reason, she and Niall come bright and early when they’re all still sleeping in because no matter how much older they get, the age range of 12-17 is scary as hell, and Y/N will not be getting bullied on her day off work. 

For the quieter atmosphere, it makes it easy for Y/N to people-watch while Niall is taking his turn. It always takes him at least 30 seconds to a minute (sometimes two, if it seems particularly difficult, like two pins on adjacent sides of the lane) to decide how he’s going to throw it, so she keeps herself busy. Since the classic button-up wearers were pretty chill, just taking their turns and chatting amongst themselves, Y/N was watching the party. The kids were well-behaved, everyone politely taking their turn, and only seeming a little zany while they were sitting and waiting. One of them had a birthday crown and a sash. Two of them were dancing around in a circle, but it was confined to their area, and they weren’t very loud. Y/N would think it was a church group, but usually they all have a matching shirt. And she’s pretty sure she saw one of the adults smoking outside when they came in.

One of the adults was clearly the birthday girl’s mom, because she wore a shirt with the birthday girl’s face on it, which was quite cute. Her hair was pulled out of her face, and she was smiling pleasantly. Two of the adults were talking animatedly off to the side, one of them waving their hands, their eyebrows lifting in shock at whatever the person in front of them had said. One of them was on their phone, with a dupe LV case that Y/N only knows is a dupe because she spent an hour one night watching a video of a girl pointing out all the things that help you spot a real from a fake (like she had money to be buying Louis Vuitton in the first place – she just liked to be in everyone’s business). And then one adult was Harry, who was staring at her. 

… 

Huh. 

Yeah, there he is. He also has a shirt with the birthday girl’s face on it, and Y/N’s eyes widen – holy fuck, did he have a daughter? Were he and this lady together? Did she know that her husband and/or boyfriend and/or baby daddy was threatening people in alleyways? Did Y/N have a duty to tell her, or was she supposed to mind her business for once in her life?

She can’t stop staring, mouth falling agape. Niall’s presence is sudden beside her, and she almost screams when he starts talking, looking to her side to find his gaze already trained across from them, “Okay, what hot dad are you looking at?” 

“I’m not,” she shook her head, turning her body so that she wasn’t facing them directly, “I think we just locked eyes or something.” 

“Okay, well, you must’ve had ‘come over here’ in your gaze because he’s headed this way.” 

“What?” Y/N exclaimed, turning again to see him, and lo and behold, he was stepping over one of the kids sitting criss-cross on the ground, on his way to them. What was he doing? Wasn’t this stupid? Y/N’s pretty sure he was supposed to act like he didn’t know her, and they would go on their merry way. Doesn’t he know how bad she is at lying? 

The closer Harry gets, the nearer Y/N can see he’s already showing a dimple. “Hey!” He greets her familiarly, “Weird to run into you here.” 

Y/N opens her mouth, but Niall starts speaking before she can fumble through her own acknowledgement, “And who might you be?” He inquired, head tilting, “I’ve studied every single one of Y/N’s followers and following on Instagram, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen your face.” 

Harry doesn’t even seem startled by Niall, though he comes off quite strong, “Oh, I really don’t have social media,” he answers smoothly. 

“Hm. In a weird, ‘I’m better than it way’, or an ‘old soul’ way?” 

Harry seemed to chew over the thought before settling on, “In a ‘I don’t know what I’m doing with it and my pictures always come out kind of shitty’ way.” 

“Very well,” Niall likes that answer, “Proceed. Who are you?” 

“I’m Harry,” he smiles, “I – “ almost kidnapped her instead of this woman named Antoniya on that blind date you set her up with a month and a half ago, “-- know Y/N from UNI. We were in the same Psych lecture.” 

“Yes!” Y/N finally spoke, agreeing, nodding her head, because whether Harry had actually dug into her past or not, he had said the perfect thing, “You remember, Ni – I’ve talked about him before?” There was a guy she mentioned every so often, from her psych lecture, who was cute and had a pretty smile. She only mentions him because she had a wet dream about him like two years ago, but it was so filthy it stuck with her. 

Niall’s eyes went wide, “Ohhhhhh, that one? The hot guy?” Y/N forgets, though, that Niall doesn’t have a filter. And even though this is not the same man, her stomach still drops all the same when he says it, and Harry chuckles warmly. 

“I didn’t know that you – um – that you had a kid?” Y/N tries to change course before Niall can get too crazy, motioning to Harry’s shirt. 

He looked down like he’d forgotten he was wearing it, “Oh, I don’t – see?” He pointed to the star button fixed to the upper corner that says WORLD’S BEST UNCLE!! in big letters, “I’m the world’s best uncle, actually. My niece is turning 8 today.” 

That makes Y/N relax a little, her shoulders slumping when she breathes out a soft, “Oh! Right, yeah, that’s – that’s great.” And she’s happy because she isn’t spiraling that Harry has a wife and daughter that has no idea what he gets up to, but she thinks Niall mistakes the sigh of relief and the relaxed shoulders. Because, ever the wingman, he pinches her hip in the way he does before he’s about to ‘work his magic’ as he calls it. 

“So are you single or. . .?” 

“Ni!” Y/N chides him, but Harry only answers easily. He always answers questions so easily, like he doesn’t have a thing to hide. 

“Yeah, I am. Have been for longer than I care to admit.” 

Niall snorts, “I hear that,” he murmured, then motioned to Y/N, waving his hand up and down her torso, “Y/N is pretty, isn’t she? I heard that she’s really good at breaking people out of a dating slump.” 

She thinks that if anyone felt her cheeks, their fingers would be immediately set to flame and seared from how hot they burn. It’s one thing when Niall is pulling these moves out at a bar or club, and Y/N’s tipsy and actually dressed pretty. It’s another thing when she’s in a shirt three times her size and her pre-period bloat sweatpants (that were just nice enough a brown and straight-legged, so she could pass them off as actual pants), hair pulled out of her bare face, and not even a single bit of jewelry on. It probably looks like she just rolled out of bed. And if Harry wants to squash this right here right now, he’s honest enough that he could probably say something like, “Eh, she wasn’t my type then and isn’t really my type now, but there’s plenty of people out there that would like her!” Then she’d have to curl up and roll herself down the lane to crash into the pins and disappear into the bowling abyss. 

“Oh, she’s beautiful,” Harry answers, and his tone is so sickeningly genuine, Y/N thinks she’s going to roll herself down the lane anyway, “I’ve thought that since the moment I got a good look at her. She’s far too good for me, though.” 

Something twirls and spins inside of her that hasn’t twirled and spun in a long time. There’s the reasonable part of her that reminds her he only said that to be nice, but then there’s the evil, deluded part of her. The one who thinks “to be nice,” all he had to do was agree she was pretty and move on, but he really didn’t have to say she was beautiful or anything. 

Even so, what did it matter if he thought she was beautiful? Clearly, she’s a little disturbed to feel a giddy rush through her veins when the circumstances of their meeting are the way they are, but. . .like it feels good. Harry’s cute, and his biceps are just as big as they felt wrapped around her that first night, and even though she can tell the shirt he’s wearing is supposed to be oversized, it still stretches around his chest pretty tight. Plus, he’s got this 70s porno mustache that’s doing things for her. And she has never been one who can differentiate feelings of gratitude from real feelings, so since he’s been nothing but nice to her (after the obvious), and had answered her call no questions asked when she really had no business calling him the other night. . .well, she isn’t proud to admit it, but she’d had a dream about him too. 

It was brief! Really, she barely remembers any of it – just a bleary subconscious rendezvous where he was holding her, but he was shirtless, and Y/N was gnawing at his arm. That’s all she remembered – she didn’t even see his face, but she just knew it was him from his slightly distorted voice murmuring, “You’re worse than Muffy,” all breathy, “Naughty thing.” – and she woke up confused, a little breathless, and with a weird dream crush that would eventually fizzle out if she ignored it. 

God, this is so fucked up – she’s probably so fucked up. It’s not even like she can tell anyone about it, and she thinks that would make her feel a lot better, but who the hell is she going to tell? Harry? She can’t even make a Reddit post in case he’s still looking at her search history! 

“Oh god, she’s been stunned into shy silence,” Niall pinched her hip again, “Sweet baby she is. Are you willing to write your number down for her?” 

Harry puffs a laugh through his nose, and she isn’t sure if it’s because of how forward Niall is being or because Y/N already sort of has his number, “Ah, sure,” he shrugs, “Why not? I think it’s more empowering for the guy to give out his number first, y’know? Then you don’t have to feel pressured to answer when they message you, and you can let them down easily in the event that you never text at all. It’s a win/win and much better for not getting harassed.” 

“I’d think you were being performative right now, but you have a very genuine aura and tone,” Niall clicks his tongue, “Was he like this in school? Should we be suspicious?” 

There are like a thousand things you should be suspicious of right now. “Yeah, he’s always been pretty genuine,” Y/N clears her throat, “I do think Niall is doing more of the pressuring right now, though.” 

“No pressure, just gentle guidance.” Niall has never had anything gentle about his guidance, but Y/N bites her tongue before she says anything, “My sweet Y/N is the one that got away for loads of people in the back. It’s heartwrenching, the number of suitors at her door, but she’s got high standards and doesn’t like time wasters, so tread carefully. Those she deems worthy are those who get a chance.” 

Now he’s just straight up lying, but leave it to Niall to make her seem like some desirable lady in a high court. This same tactic is actually what launched her into her last situationship, who did, in fact, waste her time. 

“I’ll be on my best behavior then,” Harry plays along easily, and for this reason, Y/N already knows that he’s on Niall’s good side. Anyone who doesn’t scurry from Niall’s generally intense demeanor always has a win in his book. Instead of sliding the number and leaving it on the table, Harry places it delicately into Y/N’s hand, his fingers stroking along hers when he passes it over. “I should get back, I reckon it’s almost my turn. I’ll look forward to your call, Y/N, if you decide I’m worthy enough. It was nice to see you,” he turns to Niall, “And it was lovely to meet you.” 

When he’s out of earshot, Y/N turns to look at Niall with wild eyes, “You are out of your mind.” 

“What? He’s cute! And you’ve been talking about that dream with him for two years unprovoked, so it’s time to get a real taste, and maybe your subconscious can finally rest.” Niall presses himself up from his seat, “Okay, no time to dawdle, we need to get back to this game. You missed my spare this last round when you were staring; it was impressive.” 

Later that night, when she’s at home with Muffy in her lap, Y/N looks at the number Harry had given her. It was different from the number he’d messaged her from before. Was this his real number? 

I’m sorry about him

Ni gets excited sometimes 

That was one way to put it, for sure. Harry answers almost immediately, though. 

Oh, don’t worry about it, he was funny 

I did a full background check on him, too, since he was the one who set you up on the date

Came back clear! He did get a ticket for jaywalking, though

Y/N blinks at her phone screen, then looks in her lap to Muffy, who is giving her that look again – one that reads, ‘Seriously, what is up with this guy,’ and Y/N can only shrug her shoulders because she has no idea. He’s so weird, and that message should scare her, but instead, it just reminds her how weird he is. And because she’s sick in the head, she actually feels a little endeared, even, by how weird he is. 

Wow, was she really this easy? Apparently, all you’ve got to do is seem pretty apologetic for holding a knife to her throat, and she practically forgives and forgets! Be nice to her a couple of times and call her beautiful? Well, hell, go ahead and do a background check on her and her friends! She’ll do you one better, and she’ll give you their fingerprints too. Would that make it easier? 

It’s messed up, but she guesses she’s a little messed up, too. Niall and Aki both have always said that she needed to be in a ‘Freak for Freak’ kind of relationship. 

But she’s getting ahead of herself. This is stupid! Harry was just playing along and having fun with Niall, that was all. There was nothing more to it, and Y/N needs to stop turning it into something. Besides, he “mostly” kidnaps people for a living, whatever the hell that means! He’d told her that himself. Y/N had no business getting anywhere near involved with something like that, even though she is already kind of halfway involved. Not for much longer, though – surely Harry could prove to his coworkers that she, without a shadow of a doubt, had nothing to do with the pet food guy and was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time. So long as he doesn’t keep messaging her or something stupid, then she could just put all of this behind her. If she and Harry ran into each other in public like the universe seems keen on making them do now, they’d give each other a polite nod and be on their way. 

Her phone buzzes in her hand, and drags her eyes to the top of the screen again. 

I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable though! 

Earlier, y’know

Y/N’s fingers swiped quickly over the keyboard. 

Hahaa, not at all, that’s okay! I know you were just playing around with Ni

You’re lucky tho, usually he can spot lies from a lightyear away 

The three dots reappear almost instantly.

I wasn’t lying though

You are very beautiful

Who I thought you were is a model, and I didn’t question if you were actually her or not for a second y’know

I don’t lie about things like that!! 

Anyway, you should go to bed soon, Muffy’s vet appointment is early tomorrow morning 

Goodnight!! Let me know how it goes 

Y/N stares at her phone, and Muffy stares at her.