it's more than the accent

It had become a problem. Well, it’d been a problem since the cast was on, but now it was just getting worse. 

When you first broke your leg, you weren’t too upset about the cast and the crutches. You’d never had them as a kid and now you were excited to experience what your friends all had the chance to experience in school. 

Crutches seemed fun. An excuse to not take the stairs. People would do things for you with no questions asked. And you could bum around without any judgement. Seemed like a great life. 

Except for the fact that crutches hurt. Bad. Your arms hurt. Your armpits hurt. Your shoulders hurt. Your boobs hurt. Your other leg hurt. And you kept tripping. No matter what you did the crutches would land on a dog toy or they’d get caught on the carpet or you were just a klutz. Whatever the case you couldn’t wait to get them out of your life. 

Today was the day. You were going to be free. But you weren’t. 

Your doctor smiled sweetly before relaying the bad news.

“Y/N, your leg can’t be out of this cast yet. It’s still in bad shape.” Yeah, probably from tripping constantly with the crutches. “If you’d like we can get you a new wrap for it.” 

“No. It’s fine. I just want to go home.” You groaned. The doctor gave you another sad smile before helping you off the exam table and holding the devil’s ornaments aka crutches out to you. 

“Is someone here to drive you?” You nodded. You knew he’d be thoroughly amused to see you hobbling out on the metal death traps. “Okay love. Have a great day. See you in three weeks.” THREE WEEKS! Almost a month of continuing to trip and hate life. Sounds wonderful. 

You gave her a smile and limped for the door. Your arms were sore and ready to give out and you knew your back couldn’t take much more of the hunched position they caused. As much pain as you were in, it dissipated when you saw Harry slip out of the back of his car. 

He was coming from interviews, but he’d promised to pick you up so you wouldn’t have to take another Uber. And as usual, he followed through with his promise. 

What you hadn’t been expecting was the driver and the suit and the luxury car. Maybe the Range Rover, but not the Bentley. You weren’t complaining. At all. 

“Well, well, well,” Harry stopped when he saw what must have been a very depressing sight. You were all but hanging off your crutches in front of him, with a very blue cast that matched the very blue feeling you had inside. “I thought you were a free woman today?” He frowned and kissed you.

“I was supposed to be. But these death traps keep tripping me and so my leg is still broken and so I have to keep using the death traps and so I keep tripping and so my leg will forever be broken.” You groaned in one breath and he just looked at you. 

“And so?” You knew he was mocking you, but you weren’t in the mood.

“And so I’ll just get myself home. Thanks so much Comedy Central.” You sassed him before hobbling away from him. It only took you a few swings before your crutch got caught in the sidewalk crack and you almost fell. 

You knew he’d lunged behind you to catch you, as he had been doing for weeks, but you caught yourself. Reluctantly, you turned to face him. He had his eyebrows raised and was watching you carefully. 

“I’m sorry, Harry. I’m just really sick of this and I just want my leg back.” You whined, some tears threatening to roll down your cheeks. Harry chuckled a little bit with his perfect smile and you couldn’t stay mad. But you could stay irritated at the world and your crutches. 

"It’s not funny.” You pouted. This time you didn’t have the strength to hold the tears back. Finally, Harry saw that you weren’t joking about your upset. But that you were actually genuinely stressed. 

“Babe,” He grabbed your shoulders and you flinched as they were still sore. He immediately removed his hands. Another issue with the crutches--he was afraid to touch you. “Sorry.” He mumbled. “I like you with one leg and crutches and tripping just as much as I like you with two legs and no crutches and falling. You’re still Y/N and that’s all I need.” He smiled at you. 

There was no way anyone could have been grouchy after that, except you. You still found a way and he saw it. 

“Alright, you know what?” He frowned and shrugged his jacket off and handed it to the driver. Harry rolled up his sleeves and then gestured to the driver to come towards you. “Take the crutches would you?” He asked nicely and the driver nodded. 

“Harry, what are you doing? I need them. I can’t walk without them.” Your voice went from watery and breaking to frantic and scared. “You’ll kill me.” Your voice cracked and he rolled his eyes as he rested his hand on his cheek mocking your upset. 

“You’re not walking anywhere.” He mumbled before leaning down a bit. Within a blink of the eye you were propped up in his arms being carried bridal style to the car. “You don’t want to trip? Fine. I’ll carry you everywhere. Just like the princess you are. The ground doesn’t deserve you.” 

Part of you knew he was being sarcastic and mocking your dramatics, but another part of you knew he semi-meant what he was saying. 

He carefully ducked into the backseat of the car, being careful not to hit your head. You watched as his driver placed the crutches in the trunk and then enter the car. 

“It’s really going to be okay.” He kissed your forehead and you finally smiled. “Well would you look at that. You smile.” 

“Do it.” 

“No.” 

“Do it. Or you’re...ugly.” You walked in at a great time. Liam and Harry were sitting at Liam’s kitchen counter. Liam had just called Harry ugly. Harry looked like he was going to pass out. 

“Ouch. You want me to call the burn unit?” You chuckled, but they both looked at you confused. “Cause Harry just got roasted? Seriously? No one? Sheesh.” You shook your head and continued to the refrigerator as they started mumbling to themselves again. 

“You could do it right now. You could just spit it out.” Liam was getting more aggressive as he went on. 

You’d lived with Liam for a few months. He was dating Cheryl. Cheryl was your cousin. You were a broke student. She had a big heart and boom. You ended up living with Liam Payne. All you had to do was babysit their son every now and then and make sure the house wasn’t falling to the ground when they had to travel. It was a great deal. 

But the best part of the arrangement was the company they kept. Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan and Harry Styles to just name a few. There were countless other stars who came and went as they pleased, but those three were your favorite. 

“Knock it off Liam.” Harry barked and you jumped a little. Harry rarely got short, but when he did his voice was intimidating. “See what you’ve made me do? I’ve scared her.” He shook his head and turned to look at you. You assumed he opened his mouth to apologize, but instead Liam spoke for him. 

“I like you.” Liam mocked Harry’s accent, but you froze and looked at...well...you weren’t sure what to look at. Harry shot Liam his usual disgusted face, but instead of letting it go after a few seconds his held it. Liam was unfazed by it as usual. But it didn’t pass by you. 

“See?” Liam stood up and squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “Wasn’t that hard.” He walked out with a short wave. “I’m going for a run. House to yourself. Don’t break anything with any body parts. Thanks.” With that the front door shut and you found yourself face-to-face with Harry. 

“Uhm.” You blinked and busied yourself by struggling to open a water bottle with shaking hands. Of course you were shaking. Did Liam realize what he’d just done? Liam knew you liked Harry. A lot. Niall and Louis were sweet, but there was something about Harry’s intelligence and talent and sense of humor and kind heart and family sense that just made him better than anyone else. 

“You want some help there?” He chuckled softly as you almost dropped the water bottle. He opened his hand and you cautiously handed him the bottle. You were like a scared dog afraid to be touched by its new owner. “Here you go.” He grunted as the pop snapped from the band. 

“Thanks.” You squeaked before guzzling the whole thing and taking a breath. “Okay. Uhm, well, I...I don’t know. I think I have something to do. If I don’t I’ll find something.” You went to turn around but you heard the chair he was sitting in scrape against the floor. You stopped. “Harry, I don’t know what to say.” You whispered.

It was true. You weren’t the best with words. Especially not in these situations and he knew that. He usually spoke for you whenever there were parties at the house because he knew you would freeze up. He’d keep an arm around you or a hand on your shoulder or arm so that you’d be okay. 

“You don’t have to say anything.” He stood up and pushed the chair in and stiffly shrugged. “He’s not lying. But I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.” He was so perfect. 

“I don’t feel pressured.” You mumbled and he scoffed making you raise your eyebrows and cross your arms. “Excuse me?” You laughed. 

“You always feel pressured when you have all the attention on you.” He raised his eyebrows this time and leaned against the counter. There was now feet of space between you and you didn’t like that suddenly you weren’t close. 

“You always talk for me when that happens.” You took a few steps forward. Harry rolled his eyes. 

“If I talk for you now you may not like my words.” He was blunt about it and looked you right in the eye. 

“Try me.” You took a few more steps and uncrossed your arms. 

“Seriously? You’re going to make me do this?” He laughed, but his eyes widened as he leaned his arms behind him on the counter top. You took the spot next to him and mimicked his posture. The stance left him looking down at you on his left. You nodded. “Alright, well, uhm,” He stopped and ran a hand through his hair then pinched his bottom lip. 

“Let’s go, Harry. I’m aging here.” You teased, but your heart was going ten miles a minute as you waited for him to say something. Anything really. He could start singing Gaston’s Song and you’d be relieved to a certain degree. It wouldn’t be what you wanted to hear, but it’d fill the tense silence that was settling around you both. 

“I’d say that you’d say you feel the same way. That you don’t want to be friends anymore.” He stopped and so did your heart. 

“I don’t.” The words choked out of your throat as you managed to look up at him even though your neck was now stiff. 

“Oh.” His face went white as a sheet and he looked down at the floor. At first you were confused before you realized what upset him. 

“Oh, no! No, Harry! That’s not what I meant!” You slapped your hand against your forehead and stood in front of him. “I didn’t mean I don’t feel the same way. I meant to I don’t want to be friends. Well, I do. I like being your friend. I like it a lot. But, I mean, I do feel the same way. That’s why I don’t want to be friends. I want to be more than friends. That’s what you meant right? Be more than friends? Or did you mean that you like me and don’t want to and so we shouldn’t be friends? Cause if you did that’s cool. I guess. It’ll suck, but like, whatever you want man. No judgement here.” He watched you carefully as you rambled on. You didn’t realize that the color had returned to his face and he was brushing hair out of your mouth as you aggressively motioned as you ranted. 

“You done?” He asked when you stopped to take a deep breath. You nodded. “Good.” He laughed before kissing your forehead and resting his hand on your cheek. “You cleared it up at oh no.” You blushed and shook your head.

“This is why I don’t talk for myself.” You laughed realizing that he now had his hands trailing down to your shoulders. 

“It’s okay. I’d be happy to speak for my girlfriend.” He smiled like a goof and you imitated it. 

“Oh good. You did it.” Liam was suddenly standing in his kitchen again with a smirk on his face. “It’s about time.” 

The crying. It was nonstop crying. Not even for a few hours, but since you’d gotten on the plane in LA to fly back to London. Of course Harry wasn’t there. He’d left with the boys earlier that morning. 

So there you sat. Alone. On a plane. With your crying child. You’re daughter was attached to Harry, just as you were, but you knew that this would happen. She couldn’t bear being away from him when he went to the bathroom, so lord knows him being in a completely different time zone was going to be disastrous.

Harry had been amazing enough in always bringing the two of you with him. Whether it was touring, recording, press events, award shows or just traveling, he made it a point to have you and Y/D/N with you. You loved it. You loved him.

What you didn’t love was the high pitched squeals as you sat in the back of the cab driving you to your flat. You couldn’t take much more, and you knew Harry wouldn’t be done performing until much later in the night. In fact the concert probably hadn’t started yet. 

“Excuse me?” You leaned forward towards the driver. He raised his eyebrows at you and looked in the rear view mirror. “I’m sorry. But could you take us to the O2?” It was your only chance at peace and quiet...or at least no crying. 

The driver nodded and switched his direction. As he drove through the busy streets you did your best to calm your anxious daughter’s tears. 

“Daddy’s here honey. He just has to work.” Her young two year old mind couldn’t understand that he’d be home in no time. It was fair. Sometimes you weren’t even sure you’d get to see him. 

The crying intensified as the cab pulled up outside the stagedoor entrance. 

“You sure about this miss? They’re picky about who gets in here.” The cabbie was watching you curiously as you picked up your daughter and your two bags. 

“Trust me. It’ll be fine.” You assured him as you paid him and left him a tip. “I really appreciate.” You smiled before walking away. You reached the stage door and immediately it opened.

“I’m sorry, but do you have-” Paul stopped when he saw your teary-eyed daughter and your dreary eyes. “Oh my.” He chuckled stepping to the side so you could enter. “What’s the matter?” He asked relieving you of your heavy daughter. 

“She hasn’t stopped since we got on the plane. Not even to sleep or eat. She cries through food and hasn’t slept and neither have I. I haven’t eaten come to think of it.” Your stomach grumbled as you realized the series of unfortunate events you had lived through. 

“I guess she misses Harry.” Paul sighed as she kept crying even in his arms. He handed him back to you with a sympathetic smile. 

“She does.” You mumbled rubbing her back and bouncing on your heels. You were desperate at this point. Even though you’d been bouncing, rubbing, patting and cooing for almost 17 hours you were still hopeful that it might just work this time. “Is there anyway I could see him?” Paul’s face killed any hope of the end of the tears.

“They just went on.” He looked everywhere but at you. At least he understood how desperate you were. “You know what,” He mumbled walking away, leaving you to stand by the stage door.

“Paul?” You waited for a response. “PAUL?!” You called out again. You heard a whistle come from one of the back rooms. “What are you doing?” You followed the sound as your daughter kept wailing. 

“Here.” He placed a pair of soundproof headphones on your daughter’s head and she went quiet for a few seconds. “Follow me.” Paul began to lead you both down a long concrete hallway. “You should still be able to find some chairs in front of the stage. Maybe he’ll see you.” He shouted as the crowd became louder and louder. 

“Thank you!” You mouthed before slipping out from behind the curtain that hid the entrance to backstage. You walked alongside the tall stage hoping to find a seat somewhere. When you eventually found one it was the furthest from where Harry was standing. There was no way you were going to be able to yell over thousands of fans, and certainly no way you could jump or wave your hands to get his attention.  

You were beginning to question your wit. Bringing Y/D/N to the concert to see Harry and hopefully stop the crying fit seemed like a great idea. But now that it was in action it seemed like a waste of energy and time. You could’ve have been back in your flat by now. Unpacked, cooking something to eat and maybe Y/D/N would have stopped crying by now. 

Just as you were about to turn on your heels to walk away you saw Harry walk towards you. As you saw him he saw you and your daughter. His eyes lit up and your daughter stopped crying. 

“Hello!” You shouted as Y/D/N began to smile and laugh instead. “I told you daddy was okay.” You giggled as she waved. 

Harry watched both of you as he waited to sing. For the rest of the night, every time he sang he would blow you both a kiss when he finished. The concert lasted for a few hours, but the lack of crying made it seem like a few seconds. 

As the crowd began to usher out Paul came out to lead you and Y/D/N backstage again. Your daughter began to whimper the second Harry had walked off stage and a pit of anxiety was growing in your gut at the thought of the wails. Tiredly you continued to bounce her watching the door to the dressing room open. When it finally did you almost found yourself crying out of relief. 

“There’s my baby girls.” Harry nearly ran the short distance between the two of you. “Aww, what’s with all the tears?” He lifted Y/D/N out of your arms and held her close to him. “There we go. You gave mommy a hard time today didn’t you angel?” He smiled as she started to close your eyes. 

“Finally.” You mumbled as you watched the two of them. Harry heard you and chuckled. He looked you up and down before smirking a little. 

“You look hungry, tired and stressed.” He laughed a little but adjusted his hold on your daughter so he had an arm to wrap around you. 

“I am. I am. And I am.” You sighed, breathing in his scent and relaxing. Finally you were free of the crying and the desperate pleas for silence that went unheard by your toddler.