#1d preference

She tried explaining it one day as he walked her to work down the street from their apartment. “Harry, when I used to hang pictures of you on my walls, I thought no one could match your smile,” she said softly. “Truly, I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”

While he wasn’t one for long eloquent speeches (if it wasn’t to the sound of a guitar, it was hard for him to explain how he felt), he did what he could. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “That,” he said softly. “That’s exactly how I feel about you,” he told her cupping his hand against her cheek. “And I didn’t even hang pictures of y’on m’walls until after I met you...like a normal person.”

She giggled and pushed onto her toes to give him a gentle kiss. “I’ll see you after work,” she said as she entered the banking building. She had her own office decorated with flowery pictures and ocean-themed knick-knacks. It was the embodiment of her.

Of course, they had their days. Sometimes they would argue about trivial stuff. Usually that Harry was paying for too much. Sometimes it was just that he missed her. He was lonely during the day—not that it was her fault. A lot of the time it drove her nuts that Harry never let the dishes soak when he left them out overnight. (That one really irked her.)

But overall, they were simply them. Harry noted this was by far the easiest relationship he ever had. The tabloids paid no mind to her. There was nothing to say about the perfect angel. She got a degree, she went to work, and she was beautiful. Harry remembers the day he met her fondly: he was applying for a loan at the bank. Apparently when he walked in, he was scheduled with one of the brokers, but the man took one look at him and said, “I’m sorry, my secretary didn’t inform me that it was you applying for a loan. Follow me and I will introduce you to your soul mate,” he said seriously and marched to the back office with the view of the city behind them. “Clear your schedule,” he said knocking on the door. “He needs a loan,” he said and patted Harry on the shoulder as he waited outside the door.

She dropped the papers in her hand, and they went flying across the floor of her office. “Holy shit,” she whispered. Chuckling, Harry bent to the ground and started gathering her mess of papers together and the rest was history, as they say.

*

He was gone a lot, but she was always there for him to follow his dreams. It had been three years since that fateful day. Together they shared a routine and he adored it…and more importantly her. He had learned so much about her and from her. The reason she was so intelligent and sagely. It took a bit of time to figure out, but he found it was because she had to grow up long before anyone should have to grow up.

It was at night that he learned the most. He wanted to write hundreds of songs about the secrets the dark told him. It was always easiest to chat when it was dark in their shared bedroom. She would wake up moments before him—like they were simply tethered by their alertness to one another. He would roll onto his side and the moonlight would paint over her face just making enough to see her shadow but not know if her eyes were open. He would grab onto her waist and pull her toward him, liking the warmth he felt of her breath against his chest.

He thinks about their talks. They’re what made him fall harder for her with each question. She asked so many good questions. He learned an abundance from her. It killed him a little bit to think about, but it couldn’t be removed from his brain. They played on repeat as if he was trying to figure out what was going on in those moments that he didn’t see what happened before it was too late.

*

“My mom sang I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You, when I was born until...basically until she passed away,” she said quietly. Harry asked about lullabies. If she had any growing up. “I would sing that every night to my baby. It would bring my mom closer to the baby too. And I’d also sing a song that made me think of the baby’s father.” Harry would never tell her out loud, but he hated when she referred to not being with Harry. It made it sound like she didn’t trust him.

In hindsight he wonders if he was right about that.

The only reason he never confronted her is because he knew a secret about her that she doesn’t even remember she told him. It was after a night when she had more than her normal three drinks, and the sweet, adorable, tipsy angel he adored so much let it slip that the last thing she wanted to do was scare Harry off. Despite the reassurance he gave, she wasn’t sure it was possible.

In the end, he at least promised her that wasn’t the reason.

“I didn’t know y’sing,” he murmured thinking about the lullaby she had. That was true. Of course, he heard her hum. Once in a great while he could hear her mimicking the princess movie she watched while babysitting the kids next door to their apartment.

She snorted. “Harry. How on earth am I supposed to sing in front of you?”

He ignored her silly question. He had a more important one. “If we had a baby, d’y’know what song y’would sing?” He wondered

She nodded quickly. It was like she was ready for the question before he asked it. “M-hmm. I Want to Write You a Song—that’s my favorite and it’s perfect for a lullaby.”

He filed that away in his brain for later. He hadn’t thought about that song in such a long time. It was never toured and it was a long while before he thought he’d be singing it to his own children. He would have to give it a listen later when she was asleep. See if he could figure out what drew her to it. “What about your ex?” He followed up with his next question. “What did you pick for him?”

“Do you really wanna talk about this?” She knew he didn’t love hearing about him. He wasn’t jealous, but he was so infatuated with her the idea of someone else owning a piece of her heart made him feel sad only because he wished with everything in him that she never experienced heartbreak.

He wished with everything in him that he didn’t cause it either.

But nonetheless, her ex was a big part of her life. They got engaged. Then they weren’t. She had to have thought about his lullaby.

“M’jus’ curious is all.”

She paused. “Yellow. Coldplay”

He nodded thinking about the words. “That’s a nice song. Why’d y’pick it?”

She shrugged, “He reminded me of yellow.”

Hmm. Harry thought. “What color do I remind y’of?”

“You’re asking me a lot of questions,” she said knowingly and the time on the clock read a half hour from when he last looked. She yawned and Harry instinctually reached out to trace a line along her hairline and then brought his hand to rest on her hip. He kissed the side of her head and sighed.

“You’re jus’ so interesting.” He said it in such a heartfelt manner that it made her heart flutter. He wanted to learn everything there was to learn. He couldn’t believe she was still surprising him so many years later. She was grateful for the dark because he couldn’t see the blush that crept to her cheeks. With Harry she always felt like the only woman in the room. His entire being was enthralled with her. He clung to her every word. It made her feel special.

She adored their middle of the night talks.

“Blue.”

He felt his eyebrows pinch together and he spoke his bitterness before he could censor it. “S’not really fair your ex gets sunshine, and I get depression.”

She giggled and Harry swears that it was better than all the song lyrics he could ever come up with. “You goose, it’s not depression. You’re the ocean and the sky. You’re the color of the moon. You’re blueberries and summer. You’re the color of rain and planets and stars. You’re better than yellow.”

Harry thinks about being blue a lot when he’s missing her.

*

“How did you handle the divorce?” She wondered one night. 2:30 AM again. He had just come back from the kitchen with a glass of water that he sipped from, and she noticed. “Because I imagined my mom and dad divorcing for years but when I thought it would for real...”

He pondered briefly how long she’d been awake. Wondered how she settled onto this question and what had run through her mind leading up to it. He shrugged. “It was hard. But I was young. S’easy t’understand when y’don’t know the whole story.”

“Do you resent your parents for it?”

“I resent m’dad a little because I feel like I didn’t have a role model t’tell m’what t’do sometimes. I resent m’mum only because her second husband passed and I watched her go through that heartache twice, but worse,” he explained. He thought about it for a moment longer not wanting to make himself sad when someone beside him was too pretty, too lovely, and too sweet to be sad near.

She reached out, took his hand. Winding their fingers together she didn’t say anything for a long while. Harry thought maybe she’d fallen asleep. There was never any warning at night when one of them would fall asleep. The questions were always answered but it was hard to say goodnight after the late night talks. It was like they didn’t want the conversation to end and by not saying goodnight they could continue it into the next night. “Do you believe in soulmates?” She whispered.

Sleepily he squeezed her hand and curled over toward her. “Not till I met you.”

“Do you believe I’m your soulmate?”

“Can’t imagine anyone else, kitten,” he murmured kissing her temple and pulling her beneath his chin.

He thinks about how he said that to her on the days that he believes in soulmates again. On the days he thinks of her.

*

“Do you not like something about yourself? —Seriously.” He said pointedly when she smirked at him ready with a list of insecurities as her mouth opened ready to list them off.

She paused for not more than one breath. “I’m not spontaneous at all.”

“You don’t like that?” He wondered in shock. “Holy cow, kitten, That’s…that’s like m’favorite thing ‘bout you.” He chuckled. “Your lists are s’colorful and you’re s’organized and I’ve never been s’calm goin’ t’the airport or an appointment knowing you planned it.”

“In past relationships,” she shrugged one shoulder. “I was called neurotic, psychotic, crazy...I don’t know. I just wanted to be on time to parties and see the previews at the movies.” He listened carefully so he was sure to be cautious of what she wanted. They never missed a trailer at the movies. There was no being fashionably late to parties. “Can I ask you a question?” She wondered. He nodded quickly. There was never a question she asked that he didn’t want to hear.

“Do you see us growing old together?” She asked curiously.

If Harry thought for two seconds, he would have noticed her line of questioning recently was very telling. He should have been more aware of the aura he was giving off and more aware that she noticed it. “Of course. Do you?”

“I hope...a lot. But I get nervous still about whether you love me, if you’ll grow tired of me, if I’m boring you, etc…” she listed.

“Kitten,” he said pointedly. But again, if he thought about her question, he would have noticed she only asked because he was slowly pulling away.

She shrugged. “I’m just saying.”

On their birthdays, special holidays, and anniversaries he remembers her asking him this question. He prays she doesn’t think that those are the reasons.

*

Now, she was sitting in the hotel room and her mind wandered to the beautiful green eyes that starred in all her dreams. Her hands were wringing themselves over and over as she thought about the last ten or so months without Harry. They were a whirlwind; but nonetheless she thought about him every day. It was impossible not to think about him.

The deep breaths weren’t doing anything for her. She was still anxious and distraught. There were so many things she needed to tell him. But he left. And when he said...well she just told him to leave.

“Kitten,” he whispered.

“No,” she said tears dripping down her cheeks. “I’m always mature and put together. I can’t be right now. Just go. I don’t want to see you right now,” she sobbed and slammed the bedroom door shut.

The sound of the door slapping shut snapped something in her heart. He promised. She thought to herself. Over and over. She stopped thinking about it because she thought that crying alone in a hotel room was the epitome of being pathetic.

She thought about the way he smiled and how he held her doors open for him. Some days he would make her pancakes and bacon. She liked them with chocolate chips and powdered sugar so he would always make her those. Not to mention he walked her to work each day and held her hand and they tried to prevent one another from tripping over the air. He was just the sweetest. Being with him was like learning to breathe underwater. It felt impossible but boy was it an amazing thing to do.

The person in the next room over began to stir and the creeping sense of loneliness and guilt started to roll through her body. As she stood to return to the room, she thought about the green eyes some more and who they stared at now in the middle of the night asking questions that were only meant to be asked at three in the morning.

In reality, she wasn’t entirely alone.

He always haunted her thoughts.

*

At precisely 1:49 in the morning Harry found himself jet-lagged but still tremendously tired of playing music and greeting fans from that previous evening. He felt his mind racing with questions and no one to ask them too. He scribbled that thought of unanswered questions on the empty page of his notebook. He thought about yellow. He thought about blue.

He wondered who she asked questions to now. He wondered if he knew how special the questions were and if they were answered the right way.

The next room over clearly had music coming from it. It was too quiet to make out the words, but it sounded nice and soothing. He thought about going over asking the person to play it louder on their speaker so maybe it would lull him to sleep.

With twenty more questions on his mind, he started to drift. His eyelids began to slowly blink close, and he thought about her lying beside him, gently stroking his cheek with her fingertips until he was completely asleep and then she would move to tug lightly at his hair until he was deeper into his dream state.

It was always dreams of her that he had. It’s how he liked it and he wondered why he ever thought leaving her was a good thing.

At precisely 1:52 in the morning, his eyes snapped open. He wasn’t tired. There was no music that could lull him back to sleep. He was awake.

And he had questions.

Harry found himself tripping as he bolted out of bed. He was practically sprinting out of his room, into the hall. Nothing but a T-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts adorned his body. The security detail blinked at him in surprise as he knocked rapidly on the door next to his. Heart pounding, breathing erratic he waited for what felt like eternity. Eventually, because he was on high alert, he heard the smallest gasp from behind the door.

Bracing his hand against the frame he leaned in close. “Lemme in,” he said lowly. The lock clicked open and there she stood. After all this time, his heart raced, and she didn’t move her gaze from the floor. He wanted to scream at her. He wanted to kiss her. But there was something more important he had to deal with at that moment. “Where?” He wondered.

“Harry, we just got to sleep,” she whispered in defeat.

He marched through the room looking for the right area until there it was. The tiny play pen where the sleeping baby resided inside. Harry peered over the side and reached into the pen to run the back of his hand on the tiniest little cheek he’d ever seen. It was soft and warm. Attached to the cheek was a button little nose, a pair of long lashes closed over what had to be the roundest eyes he’d ever seen. He wanted to wake her up. He swallowed around the rock in his throat and he wished he wasn’t teary because they blocked his vision. And clearly there was already so much time he wasted on not seeing what was before him. “How could you?” He whispered.

She didn’t say anything. Just a hand pressed over her mouth as tears worked around her fingers and dripped to the floor. “Can I explain?”

“I don’t think y’ve much choice,” he said. He refused to move his eyes from the tiny being. He feared she might actually go away.

“Mr. Styles?” Someone called into the room curiously.

“Get. Out,” he hissed back. He was never rude, but not a single soul could know about this right now. There were too many unknowns. The door clicked shut. Harry admired the tiny arms, the small fingers, and the onesie that was wrapped around the baby like a second skin. “What’s her name?” He wondered.

“Darcy,” she whispered. Her voice barely audible.

“Can I pick her up?” He wondered.

She walked the last remaining steps between them and peered over at the tired babe. “Yeah, she’s out,” she said softly and rubbed her hands over her eyes to wipe away the tears. Harry carefully reached in, his eyes burning with more tears as he lifted her into his arms, and she made the tiniest little grunt and squeak that babies do. He swallowed again as he held her to his chest, and she settled against him. He admired the two lips that were so tiny and the way she yawned. He felt like sobbing. She was beautiful.

Of course, he knew if this was her mother, there was no way there would be anything less than a beautiful baby between the two.

“You broke up with me the day I planned on telling you,” she said. Harry managed to tear his eyes from the baby to the girl standing back by the door. “You said that it just wasn’t working anymore.”

His heart broke again. “You should have told me.”

“Probably,” she sniffed. “But what would that have done if not just trap you in a relationship with a girl you didn’t love held together by a baby you would resent?”

“Do you know—” he started.

“Let me finish.” He was silent. He found he was swaying holding the baby against him so closely she felt like an extension of Harry. She was so little. She was so warm. She was his. It scared him but it felt so incredibly right. Like this is what he was meant to do. He waited for her to speak again. His eyes were glued to her beautiful figure dressed in moon light.

“The moment she was resting on my chest,” she said gently. “I realized I made the biggest mistake of my life. I don’t know what I was thinking, and I feel so horribly awful. I should have done so many things differently. So, I went to correct it. I’ve been following you for...since she’s been in this world. I’ve been trying to work up the courage. I just…what am I supposed to say? Christ, Harry. I am so, so, so sorry.”

He didn’t say anything for a few moments he just held the little girl close to him. He kissed the top of her tiny soft little head. “How old is she?” he wondered.

“She’ll be three months old in two weeks.”

“What was being pregnant like?”

“I wanted your chocolate chip pancakes for every meal for an entire month. I cried outlandishly at the news. Every Thursday at exactly 3:08 I would throw up.”

He smirked. “Did you make Mumma sick?” he cooed. She smirked weakly and looked at how Harry’s whole hand covered her tiny back. She felt awful keeping this secret.

“How…how did you know it was me?” She asked.

“I was pretty much asleep, and I heard this...really pretty singing and I didn’t know who or what it was. I couldn’t make out the song. I was almost out when it occurred to me y’were singing I Want to Write You a Song. And...I realized that meant you were singing Can’t Help Falling in Love With You before that.”

She nodded in confirmation. “And you knew that was me because…?” She asked.

He blinked at her. She must not have remembered the lullaby discussion. How interesting. “You told me about your mum singing that to you in the middle of the night,” he said.

Her lips parted and she visibly looked like someone shocked her. “You…You remember that?” She asked.

“Kitten, I remember everything you’ve ever told me.” It was silent for a while. “M’still pretty mad, but I know why y’kept it from me,” he said eventually. But after all it was the middle of the night. It was time for questions. He came close to her the baby between them, sleeping soundly but not squished. He pulled his gaze from the tiny love to the woman that gave him truly everything he ever could have wanted and didn’t even bat an eyelash about how hard it must have been all alone and how hard it must have been to hide from everyone that wondered where the little one’s dad would be. He thought about being blue. He thought about soulmates. He couldn’t think about anything but her and this beautiful little baby. “What do you want?” He asked her.

“What do I want?” She questioned.

“What do you want?” He repeated. They were both quiet for a long moment. “From me?”

She had her answer ready. It was already leaving her mouth when he asked. “I want you and her,” she said softly.

In the dim moonlight that painted over her, he was falling quickly. There was so much to say but not enough time. He was getting tired. They needed sleep. He bent his head down and pulling his hand from the tiny angel, he tilted her chin up and he felt his heart hammering so loudly he worried it would wake the sleeping baby. His lips brushed hers and she shivered against him as they did. She seemed to sigh with relief. The feeling was mutual. Harry’s mouth was so soft and gentle against hers.