#9.5k

Falling back onto the sofa with a dramatic sigh, you worry your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes fixated on the ceiling as you search for something, anything that he’d like.

“You’re over thinking it. Really, he’ll love whatever you decide on. It’s the thought that counts right?” From across the room, your roommate Shelia briefly glances up from her phone, seeing your exasperated form stretched out on the cushions, barely biting back her cheeky grin before you look over at her.

“Easy for you to say, you picked out Andrea! All you need to do is get her one of those cute bath sets from that store she likes and you’re all good.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you let your head knock back a few times. “But I picked Harry, Mr. Celebrity, I-already-have-everything-I-want-and-all-the money-to-get-it Styles. What the hell can I get him that he wouldn’t be able to get for himself?”

“Could always go the sappy route Y/N. Might be a good idea in the long run…” With that Shelia takes a sip of her steaming coffee, setting her phone to the side. “Whatever you decide on though, I really do think he’ll love it. I mean if he likes it half as much as he likes you…” Before she can finish a cushion is lobbed across the room at her, missing the mark, landing with a thud by her feet as she just laughs. “Get huffy all you want Y/N, but you know I’m right.”

“I almost feel like you all set me up with this one.” You mutter as you push up from the sofa seat, blindly reaching out for your laptop to begin your search.

~*~

So, in the end, things really weren’t too bad, in a way. After hours upon hours of scrolling through endless websites, scouring to see if you could go the easy way out and pick something you knew Harry already had but needed more of, you settled on something completely different.

Something with a more sentimental tone.

And of course, that didn’t help Shelia’s teasing about your feelings for Harry—which you were very well aware of, thank you very much— but you figured that in the end he’d appreciate the motivation behind it rather than the price point of the gift.

In fact, nearly all of your friends who were also participating in the secret Santa seemed to tease you about your choice, but every single one stayed surprisingly mum about which one of them had received you in return. It was the first year that you could remember them doing so, they were all absolutely lousy at keeping a secret (though, admittedly so were you).

But they remained steadfast, this year everyone’s choice would be a surprise – well, at least in your case.

Regardless, you knew that route you’d taken for Harry’s gift was a good one. He was the emotional sort, after all, always saying so little, but conveying every ounce of his feelings to your small circle of friends.

Especially to you in particular, when you thought about it.

Which was why if anything you felt the need to make sure it was absolutely perfect. Pouring hours of your free time into the most minute details, straight down to the wrapping paper and bows.

That was why you found yourself sitting cross legged on the floor in front of your coffee table one night after work. Flipping through the seemingly endless amount of photo albums you had, the ornate silver frame you’d chosen set aside as you tried to find one that encapsulated your friendship with Harry.

Sifting through pile after pile, recalling memory after memory, every time you thought you had finally narrowed it down, another one appeared, better than the picture you had decided upon before. As your cat Tom circled round you, finally setting in your lap, head resting contently on your knee, you reached for your phone out of frustration, taking a quick snap of the mess in front of you before sending it to Shelia. Captioning the scene with “Hardest. Gift. Ever.” before sending it off, you rested your chin in the palm of your hand while still occasionally scratching between Tom’s ears.

You’d gone off in a daydream, reminiscing on old memories when the chime of your phone brought you back to focus. Tapping into your app, you were surprised when it wasn’t Shelia replying to you, but Harry himself.

“Got the night off, feeling like a late night chippy? My treat xx”

Glancing at the time, you realized it was only a little bit after nine, and you certainly weren’t past the point of going out. Weighing your options, you quickly typed back, gently shooing Tom off your lap before heading to your room, swinging your closet door open.

“Sure thing. Meet you at the regular place in 30?”

“See you then muppet xx “

Tossing a few extra biscuits in Tom’s dish on your way out, you hugged your coat in tight to cut the brisk winter winds. Weaving through the thinned-out crowds that came with nighttime Christmas shopping, you couldn’t help but feel giddy about seeing Harry so soon.

He’d been gone on tour for most of the past year, and then had been off hopping from country to country ever since, saying he was busy working on a few projects. When you took a second to think about it, you’d figured it’d easily been at least four months since you’d properly seen each other last. Sure, you’d been texting constantly, skyping and FaceTiming when you could, but nothing could ever beat properly spending time with Harry.

There was just something about him, something so calming in his demeanour, that whenever you met it felt like you hadn’t missed a beat, like you were picking right up from where you’d left off.

Turning the corner, you saw the quaint little shop you and your friends had come to hold as a regular spot to meet at over the past few years. It had served you all so well, being the location for many post pub late night stops and a go to for takeaway when you wanted a night in at someone’s flat nearby. You’d all spent so much time there that the staff had become like extended family, everyone being on a first name basis with a ‘regular’ order in no time.

Just being nearby filled you with a sort of warmth that came along with a sense of belonging, a smile blooming on your face as the familiar cursive of Gilda’s prominent on the sign out front came into view when you gripped the handle and stepped inside.

Instantly you were greeted by the aroma of the typical fare from the diner, the restaurant modelled in the style of restaurants from the 50’s, right down to the jukebox in the corner that you’d all easily sunk hundreds of dollars into.

Glancing around the space, you search the various patrons at the other tables, your eyes finally falling on a black beanie trying its best to poorly conceal a familiar mop of overgrown chestnut hair at a booth in the far corner. Waving to Denise and the chefs at the counter as they chatted to some other regular customers, you made your way over to him. You see him sat at the booth, almost nervously drumming his fingers on the countertop, which were rather conspicuously bare of their usual rings.

Coming to stand just beside the booth, you prop your elbow on the cushion, smirking when you realize he hasn’t noticed you just yet. “Well, fancy seeing you here, stranger.”

In an instant he perks up, sliding out of his seat quickly, pulling you into a close embrace with a wide grin, habitually nuzzling his nose into your hair like he always does. The speed of it all almost catches you off guard, but it’s so characteristically Harry that you can’t help but giggle a little into his broad chest. You’re holding him back just as tightly as he gives you squeeze after squeeze before finally pulling away, hands holding your biceps tightly as he gets a good look at you after all that time apart.

Your hair has grown out a bit more, looking a little longer than when he saw you last. But then again, so has his. Even in the dim lighting of the diner, he can see the circles under your eyes, knowing that you’ve probably been putting extra hours into work as the year winds to a close. But you still have a radiance to you that he finds himself drawn to, a radiance that he’s not-so-secretly fallen in love with, if he’s being honest with himself. You’re just beaming at him, feeling so at home under the warmth of his gaze as you take in the sight of each other.

“Missed you somethin’ fierce lovie…can’t go another four months without seein’ ya again. Drove me barmy without you.” He’s almost breathless when he says it, gazing at you so fondly that your heart almost melts at the softness behind his tone.

“Then don’t be a stranger so much. I’m always here,” you tease, Harry laughing softly as he playfully rolls his eyes at your remark. “Now what did you get me? I’m starved, and you promised chips.”

“Just the usual, not feeling too hungry so I got us an order to share. Tea for me and ‘course a shake for you,” he hums as you slide into the side of the booth that he was sat at moments ago. For a beat he’s confused, until you’re patting the cushion beside you after you’ve shrugged out of your coat.

“Well, what’re you waiting for? Come sit!”

Nodding without thought, he slides in beside you, yelping in surprise when you snake a hand around his waist, resting your head on his shoulder.

“It’s nice to see you again. Feels like forever,” you mumble as he relaxes into your embrace, letting his head lean on top of yours.

“Really can’t go to long without you…. or the rest of that crazy lot,” he hums, letting out a quiet sigh while watching you carefully through his lashes. He can’t see your face but from how comfortable you’ve gotten, he knows you’re content, subduing the urge to roll his eyes when you playfully tickle his sides.

“So, did Shelia get you to pick your secret Santa victim out of the hat yet?” He teases, laughing when you playfully swat at his chest rather blindly.

“Oh, come off it. I give great gifts Styles… you’re just jealous.”

“Of course, because deep down we all wanted that hand cream set you gave Lizzie last year…” You can feel the corner of his lip that’s pressed against your head curl up into a smile as you wriggle out of his touch.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, she said her hands were always dry at work and it was the perfect gift! She still uses them!” With a huff, you slump into your seat, looking at him rather pointedly as he rests his chin in the cradle of his palm to look at you. Seeing how huffy you look, he can’t find it in himself to tease you any longer and reaches out with his free hand, rubbing your knuckles reassuringly with his thumb.

“I’m only teasing lovie. It was a very thoughtful, practical gift on your part.” He pauses, wetting his lips slightly before speaking. “But, for the record, if you get me, I have all the cream I could possibly need.”

“Really, H? Do you?” It’s your turn to tease him as his cheeks burn red, realizing what he’s just said as he lets out a groan.

“Y’know what’s absolutely not what I meant Y/N,” he chides, rolling his eyes as you can’t stop laughing.

You shoot a knowing wink his way, unable to hide the grin that’s blossoming on your face from him. But before he can get a clever retort in, one of the friendly waitresses swoops in, setting your order down with a smile, chatting easily to the pair of you before making her leave.

“So you really don’t need any cream, Harry?” you ask one last time as you take a triumphant sip of your drink.

“Just shut up and eat your fries, Y/N.”

For the rest of the night, things truly go like they always do. Harry shares endless stories with you, little anecdotes about his life on the road, on all that he’s done and what he’s learned in his recent travels. Never once does that easy smile of his falter, never once does he lose interest in you and check his phone, and you truly didn’t know how much you missed him, how much you missed physically being around him until now.

Yet you still can’t help but think that these feelings, however intensely felt they might be, are simply one sided on your part. Harry is one for being intimately close with all his friends, and you second guess yourself constantly while you’re together that night. The way he gives you more than half of the fries on the plate, how he constantly is reaching out to touch you in some capacity – leaning against you, holding your hand, running his fingers along the lines on your overturned palm – it just feels like something more than it should. Perhaps it’s conjecture, maybe wishful thinking, you’re not entirely sure.

But there’s something present, and Harry, ever the enigma to even his closest friends, continues to throw you for loop after loop.

Which is especially the case when you’re walking down the street after you’ve had your fill of fried food at Gilda’s. The sidewalks are empty, and of course, even though you live a few streets down Harry insisted that he drive you home. Walking arm in arm, your hand tucked into his coat pocket to curb the bitter wind nipping at your skin, you’re wrapped in a comfortable silence, still warm and full from your meal.

But when you’re just shy of his rather flashy black BMW parked on the sidewalk, he utters a soft ‘wait’ before gently pulling you back, turning you to face him under the glow of the soft streetlight.

You look up at him, unsure of what he’s doing when he brings his hand up, gently tucking a stray tendril of your hair back from your face with such care that you’re almost unsure if it’s really happening.

“Sorry, was jus’ gettin’ in the way,” he mutters quietly, looking almost moony-eyed at you, while all you’re capable of in return is a shy smile. “‘S better, yeah?”

In a completely cliched, almost rom-com way, you can feel your heart skip a beat, nodding numbly as he keeps gazing down at you. “Yeah, thanks H.”

He smiles, letting out a quiet sigh before the moment is broken by the sound of a car zipping down the nearby street. “Well c’mon, let’s get y’home.”

~*~

It wasn’t until much later that night, when you’d finally made it back to your place, having spent at least an hour alone sitting in Harry’s car in your driveway catching up while one of his playlists filtered through the speakers, that Shelia finally replied to you as you were getting ready for bed.

Washing your face, you caught the almost never-ending smile you wore prominently in the mirror as you towelled off, grabbing for your mobile as it dinged.

“Y/N, it’s obvious what one you should pick!”

You paused, squinting at the screen as the familiar grey dots appeared before her next message came through.

“The picture Mark took of you two at my housewarming party last year.”

And it hit you.

Because of course that would the perfect shot to use.

~*~

You remember that night like it was yesterday, the joy and love that filled Shelia’s new (albeit) cramped apartment in the west side of the city. It was close enough to the bay that when everyone spilled out onto her balcony, they could glimpse the city lights shining off it, and even feel a bit of the cool breeze lapping up from the waves.

Somehow it was like Shelia and Mark had managed to call up every single person they knew in the city, making the apartment absolutely packed for most of the night. Filled with sweet reunions, endless laughs, and plenty of alcohol to go around, it reminded you of your college days. That was how you found yourself sat on her new plush plum sofa late in the evening, the party dying down as you sipped on your wine.

There was a rather cozy, content feeling to it all, the activities of the evening filling you with a warmth that one would describe as similar to being wrapped up in a freshly laundered blanket or submerged in a steaming bathtub after a long day.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You’re pulled out of your haze by the gentle words as you feel the seat next to you sink under the weight of someone else, and it takes you a second as you refocus to realize it’s Harry. Perched on the sofa beside you, holding a nearly empty glass in his hand, he gives you a gentle smile before reaching out to squeeze your knee. “Haven’t seen y’all night.”

Without thinking you set your glass on the nearby coffee table and snuggle in close, resting your head comfortably on his shoulder as his free arm wraps around you. “Just thinking about how nice tonight’s been. Having everyone together, it’s nice,” you mutter, his soft laughter ringing in your ears. “Especially you, feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“‘S been awhile hasn’t it?” he sighs softly, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze as you nod, glancing up at him, your eyes meeting for what feels like the first time in years. “Though it feels like I saw you just yesterday. Always on my mind, y’are,” he whispers, giving you a cheeky smile. You’re almost awestruck, gazing up at him like he hung the stars in the sky for you when suddenly a flash goes off nearby followed by a quick “Shit!”

Pulled out of the moment, you see your friend Mark just behind the coffee table, looking rather sheepish as he holds up his camera in surrender, shrugging at the pair of you before looking down at the viewfinder. “In my defense,” he begins as he starts to step away, “it’s a really nice photo of you two.”

He comes around the table, crouching down in front of you two as he pulls up the picture for you to see. And you have to admit, he’s definitely got a point.

The framing of it is perfect, the soft light of the candles and patio lights strung around the room giving you both a warm glow despite Mark having used the flash. But what strikes you is how close you are. You’re practically pressed up against each other, like you’re trying to melt into one. There’s an intimacy to Harry’s hand placed on your hip, his thumb dipping under the fabric of your shirt like he was clearly rubbing circles into your skin with it as you spoke.

Your faces are just inches apart, and you look completely enraptured with Harry, almost entranced by him as he beams down at you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was about to lean in to kiss you, but of course that just wasn’t the case. Regardless, you’re rather thankful for Mark taking the shot and glance over him, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze.

“Can you send me this? Want it to keep with my other photos from tonight,” you murmur. Harry is still oddly silent as he stares at the screen before the auto shut off kicks in and he shakes himself from his stupor. He doesn’t really say anything, just giving you both a timid smile before clearing his throat, carefully disentangling himself from you, looking strangely nervous.

“I’m just going to go get another drink I’ll… I’ll be back yeah?”

You and Mark were left near the sofa in the wake of his hasty exit, both surprised from Harry’s sudden odd behaviour. But without missing a beat he nodded, standing back up, placing a hand on your shoulder. “’Course, Y/N, I’ll send you tonight’s shots in the morning, alright?”

After that point you saw Harry a few times before you had to finally make your leave for the night, knowing that you’d definitely regret staying out that late the next morning at work. But when you went to find him, he’d already left. Shelia said he had muttered something about an urgent business call from Jeff, and that he told you to text him when he got home. But when you did, there wasn’t a reply from him until a few days later.

When he finally responded, Harry had acted like nothing had happened, talking away to you over the most mundane things like that moment was a meaningless blip.

But you knew, deep down, that something was up with him.

You just couldn’t figure out exactly what it was.

~*~

In a funny way, if you had to pinpoint the day that you’d finally realized that what you felt for Harry was more than just… platonic, you’d have to say it was that night. From the way everything seemed right with the world when he finally found you and came to talk to the ache in your chest when he left without saying goodbye, you just knew.

In a way, you figured you’d always known, but something about that night just seemed like a turning point in it all. You couldn’t ignore it anymore or play it off to your friends as a simple closeness that was a result of having such a strong bond for so many years. One thing was absolutely certain: you were in love with Harry.

Perhaps that night he too had realized he’d felt the same way. If you were being honest with yourself, with the way he was, you’d had a feeling he acted so strangely because he found himself confronted with the same emotion. Maybe it was also why he pretended like it never happened in the days after, just continuing to be the same old Harry around you, not even bringing up the party to rehash memories like you normally would.

But of course, you could never be sure.

It was obviously a risk using that photo for his gift. Perhaps you were reading the situation all wrong and he’d have to let you down at what would definitely be the worst time of the year to have your heart broken. Yet, you knew that if you didn’t, if you didn’t take that leap of faith now, that you would definitely regret it.

So that’s why at 3 A.M., you dragged yourself up and out of bed and back over to your coffee table. Plopping down with box of photos in hand, you flipped through shot after shot until you finally found it. Even in your half-asleep state you spent a painstaking amount of time working on it, mounting it perfectly on the cardstock, even going so far as to write a little note on space around the photo.

Plucking up your silver sharpie, you felt a little nervous as you uncapped it, mentally preparing what you’d write, just to make sure it was enough for Harry to get the message. You swore you felt your hand trembling when the tip finally came into contact with the paper, writing “Merry Christmas H. All my love, always.  Xoxo” in your flowing cursive before capping it with a sigh, tossing the marker away.

Letting the fresh ink dry first, you carefully set the frame back into the box and wrapped it, not caring in the slightest that it was 5 A.M. by the time you’d finished (you had the day off from work after all, and a little lay in to make up wouldn’t be the end of the world). When it was all said and done, you still had your doubts about whether it was the right thing to do. But you still had over a week until to the annual Christmas party (that you just happened to be hosting this year), so you knew that if you did change your mind, you could easily try to find something else.

So, just as the sun was beginning to crest on the horizon, signalling the start of a new day, you curled up back under your covers, ready for a good night’s sleep.

~*~

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, Harry was pacing his living room nervously. It was a little after 9 P.M. and having just come home from a long day in the studio, he’d decided he’d take the little free time he had that evening to figure out what he would get for his secret Santa this year.

In an odd twist of fate, he’d found himself having picked out Y/N, and to say he was at a complete loss for what to get her would be an understatement.

What exactly are you supposed to get for your closest and dearest friend that you just so happen to be hopelessly in love with?

Luckily, when he’d picked it out, his closest mate Mark had given him a wink and told him that of course there wasn’t a budget limit. After five years of doing this exchange, it was safe to say that they all knew Harry was never one to be able to abide by it.

As he sat his countertop, glass of wine nearby and pen in hand, he decided to start brainstorming a list of what would be perfect for her. Signing her up for a candle of the month subscription for the year would be perfect, she absolutely adored them and always had them burning in her flat… but it just felt too impersonal and easy, so as quickly as he’d jotted it down, he scratched it off the list and started brewing up another idea.

Then, he thought of perhaps getting her favourite books in first edition copies, but those would take too much time to track down, and he couldn’t be certain he’d get them in time.  Then there was maybe getting her concert tickets for an artist they both loved, but with his busy schedule he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to pull it off. Idea after idea seemed fruitless, and in thirty minutes’ time, he was slumped over his countertop, his face pressed against the cold marble. A small mountain of balled up pages surrounded him, almost taunting him at his inability to figure out the perfect gift for Y/N.

It had to be special, and ever the one to notice minute details in those around him, he was careful to make it thoughtful, always winding up picking out presents that the receiver always wanted and needed at the same time.

But Y/N was just… Y/N.

If it was anything less than flawless, he knew he’d never stop kicking himself over it.

So, without thinking, he picked up the phone and called the lad who’d gotten him into this mess in the first place, not even thinking to check what time it was in London. The phone seemed to ring for ages until the call was picked up by a gruff ‘lo?’

But before Harry could get a word in edgewise, Mark was already cutting him off. “You better have a good reason for calling me at five in the bloody morning, Styles.”

“Well, it’s nice to speak with you Mark, hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time,” he practically cooed into the receiver, laughing when his mate muttered a string of profanities back in response.

“I do actually have something important to talk to you about.”

“Yeah? And what could it possibly be that it couldn’t have waited until 9 A.M.?”

“It’s Y/N… well, more specifically, my secret Santa gift for her. I’m trying to whack it out tonight, mate, and I just... I haven’t a clue what to get her.”

The only response Harry got was a groan from the other side of the call, Mark seemingly in disbelief that this was Harry’s pressing issue.

“I mean, I could get her somethin’ easy but it’s just—“

“You love her,” Mark stated bluntly, yawning tiredly as he pushed himself out of bed and headed towards his own kitchen to make a spot of tea for the early morning call. “You always have, and you want to get her something special that she’ll like, but will also tell her in a subtle way that you love her, yeah?”

A bit stunned at how easily his friend laid out he feels, he can only offer a small grunt in approval, as the other man laughs on the line.

“It’s been bloody obvious for years, mate, you two are just too up your own arses with feelings that you can’t see it. Like lovesick teenagers, you lot are,” he hums, pausing to nibble at a tea biscuit. “So, the question now is, what do you want to get her?”

“Well, I was thinking I’d get her one of my rings. N-Not mine o’course, but like I’d have one of mine replicated for her? You know how she is, always stealin’ ‘em when she thinks I won’t notice. But is that rubbish? I mean, it’d be a good grand or two, but she’s worth it in the end.” Looking down at the last idea he’s got on his list, Harry hopes that Mark will agree, because otherwise he won’t know what to do.

“I’ll tell you what mate, you’re going to put the rest of us to shame. But I think it’s absolutely perfect. Thoughtful enough that she’ll get the hint hopefully, and all that good mushy stuff that you want for a Christmas present. You’re gonna do the rose ring, yeah?” Glancing over the ones he’s got on today, Harry spins the ring in question, watching the worn silver glint in the light.

“Yeah, seems like the one she picks the most. But you’re sure? It’s not too much, right? I don’t want to make her uncomfortable, I just-”

“Want her to know how much you love her, I get it, you hopeless git,” Mark teases, slurping back some tea. “I think it’s perfect mate, really. And I’m not just saying so because if I do you’ll get off the phone and l can go back to sleep.” They both chuckle at the comment for a moment before Mark pulls the conversation back. “It’s going to blow her away mate, can’t wait to see the look on her face when you give it to her.”

There’s a moment’s silence as Harry sits with the weight of the gift, quickly scribbling out the details he’d need to get it in such a short amount of time before Mark clears his throat.

“Now is that all you’re needing Styles, or do you want me to write the inside of her card too?”

“No, that’s it for now mate. And thanks for your help Mark, really.”

“Anythin’ t’get you two finally together.” With that he hangs up the phone, Harry quickly getting to work not wanting anything to snag his plan for the perfect gift.

Yet, unknown to Harry, Mark quickly pulls up Shelia’s number, sending her a quick text.

And Styles has finally picked out something for her. Said it’s over 1000 pounds, the rich bastard, but she’ll love it. No way she won’t know now.

To his surprise she texts back remarkably fast, even though it’s barely gone 6:30 in the morning.

Y/N too, went the more sentimental route with this one. Y’reckon they’ve figured out they’ve got each other yet?

Those two? ‘La it’s been four years and they’ve only just realized that they’ve spent all this time in love with each other. They don’t suspect a thing.

You really think this’ll work?

Absolutely positive.

~*~

The night of the party comes sooner than you’d anticipated. And of course, regardless of how much you’d planned ahead and prepped for days, it still doesn’t feel like enough. You knew that it was more about the time together rather than the food, or the decorations. Call it a flaw, but you just wanted it to be perfect.

As you raced through your flat that day, thankful that you’d managed to get the day off from work, you caught yourself constantly glancing at your gift for Harry, the present waiting on the table designated for secret Santa gifts.

Admittedly, you had picked up a few back-ups in the two weeks that had passed since you wrapped it. At first it was getting some first pressings of old records he loved but didn’t have, then it was buying a set of diptyque candles that you knew he adored having on the road with him. But at the end of the day, they just felt so impersonal, all lacking the sentimentality that a present to Harry deserved – at least in your opinion anyways.

Deep down, you knew the present itself was the thing that you were most nervous about for that whole night. The party would just be like the years before, but what you were saying with that gift, what you were finally admitting to Harry was, well… big. There was really no going back from that point.

Which is why you were thankful that Shelia had insisted on coming early that night, showing up a little after four to ‘help you set up’ (which you both knew was code for sitting at your countertop while ‘sampling’ the food you’d laid out). You were so high-strung that you couldn’t complain when she stepped through the door, handing off the bottle of wine she brought with her before breezing past you to place her gift on the table with yours.

“Need any help with anything?” she hummed, looking around your open concept living room while shrugging off her jacket. “Well, you certainly put my party last year to shame.” With a wry wink she pulled you in for a tight hug, practically feeling the nerves radiate off you. “That nervous about the gift, huh?”

Shaking your head when you pulled back, you sighed at her teasing smirk. “Wouldn’t you be? I mean, what if it’s too much? What if he doesn’t feel the same, Shelia? What am I supposed to do then?”

“Not worry about it, Y/N, because it’s obvious he feels the same way about you. We’ve all seen it. He’d be a fool not to,” she reassures you, giving you one last squeeze. “Now, where are those amazing little roll-ups you always make?”

You start to laugh, but her expression turns deadpan. “I’m not kidding girl, I’m starving.”

Shaking your head, you point to the kitchen. “On a platter on the island, there’s some extras in the fridge that I made for you, though. Try not to eat too much before everyone arrives, alright? I’m just gonna go get dressed before they start coming.”

As you pad into your bedroom, you’re thankful you had the foresight to have gone for a look that required minimal work today, already a little exhausted from the whirlwind of preparations. Unclipping your hair, you let it fall naturally, twisting a few locks around your fingers to give it a more defined sense of movement. Opting to just blot at your lips with a natural-looking lipstick, you headed over to your closet.

Though it was a pretty chilly early December night, you’d kept the flat rather warm and cozy. So instead of choosing your typical thick sweater and trousers, you found yourself pulling out a dress, of all things. The fabric was a soft-to-the-touch, crushed, emerald green velvet; not only perfectly festive but a hue that you found flattering to wear. It was knee-length, fitted around the hips before flowing out to an A-Line hem, paired with sheer long sleeves in the same colour as the rest of the dress.

It wasn’t something you’d normally find yourself reaching for, but with it being the holidays, you thought it was rather perfect for the occasion.

Shelia had just finished helping you zip up the back when the first guests started arriving, friends old and new spilling into your apartment for the nights’ festivities. Yet every time you glanced over at the door as it opened, your hopes fell ever so slightly when it wasn’t Harry. You’d tried to keep your concerns to yourself, deciding to only query Shelia and Mark about his whereabouts once. But they both swore that though he was supposed to fly back into the city earlier that day, as far as they knew he’d promised that he’d be there.

A few of your other friends had been last-minute no-shows, all calling or texting with profuse apologies that it was beyond their control, but you quickly quelled their fears with the reassurance that it was perfectly fine and that you’d drop off a plate of food to each of them the next day.

Deep down, you had to admit that there was a particular pain setting into your heart, no matter how much you tried to ignore it, at the thought of Harry just deciding not to show without a word of warning.

You distracted yourself the best you could by being an attentive hostess, spending the night with your friends who’d become like a family, reminiscing over past memories, sharing new laughs and of course, before the night was over, exchanging gifts for your annual secret Santa. Yet when the time came for you to get yours, you couldn’t find a single one with your name on it.

Shelia had quickly come over at that point, quietly telling you that Lola, one of your mutual friends from college had been the one to pick you, and as she’d unfortunately had to cancel at the last minute that’s why it wasn’t there. Of course, you weren’t really bothered by it, the whole point of the night wasn’t about the gifts at all, but you were still slightly upset that after all the anxiety and nerves you’d had about picking out Harry’s gift, he wasn’t there in the end to get it.

Moving beyond that little blip, the night went along without a hitch, and you truly couldn’t have asked for a better evening. When the last of your guests had filtered out a little before midnight, you’d still had your fake fireplace crackling away, your heels discarded under the coffee table at some point that night, the soothing tones of whatever Christmas vinyl Lizzie had slipped on earlier still filtering through the space as you cleaned up, tossing out plastic cups and popping your other dishes into the washer.

Just as you were about to shut off your lights and turn in for the night, you were surprised by a knock at the door. You tried checking your phone, realizing as you padded towards the door that it had been long since dead as you swung the door open.

Harry.

You couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of him in the low light of the hallway outside your flat, slightly in disbelief that he was there. Looking rather sheepish and dishevelled, his carry-on still slung over his shoulder along with a small gift bag in the other hand.

“I’m so sorry I’m late lovie I…“ he began, stepping closer, looking so distraught that you didn’t say a word, quickly ushering him inside. “Bloody plane was delayed, somethin’ about turbulence, and of course I couldn’t tell any of ya. Only got in about 30 minutes ago and I rushed right over here as soon as I could. ‘M a bloody knob. I’m so sorry to have missed the party.”

You knew deep down you could never be angry at him, and at how apologetic he sounded, you could tell he really had tried his best to be there in time.  

“H, it’s alright. I’m just glad you’re here,” you hum, carefully helping him set his travel bag to the side while he toed off his shoes. “Why don’t you get comfy and take a seat on the couch? I’ve got plenty of leftovers, bet you’re just starving.”

“Y’too good to me Y/N. Really.” He gives you a grateful smile before pressing a kiss to your forehead, still holding the small gift bag rather tightly as he grabs his smaller carry-on and pads down the hallway to your bathroom to change his clothes.

By the time he’d emerged a few minutes later, you were just bringing in two plates worth of food, having been unsure of what he’d be in the mood for. You’d also placed his gift from the secret Santa down on the coffee table, eager for him to finally see it. Carefully setting his bag down behind the sofa, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head before rounding it to take a seat beside you.

“Spoil me absolutely rotten when I deserve a proper kick in the arse,” he hums, easily tucking into the finger food you’d laid out for him.

“Do you want anything else, H? Think there’s still some drinks left over, if you want.” You’re just about to stand up to go back into the kitchen when he carefully reaches out, gently pulling you back to him.

“‘S fine, it’s really all perfect. Just – let’s just relax alrigh’? I’ve had a long day and I’m sure you’ve been busy since last night getting this all ready.” The look of just pure adoration he gives you melts your heart and you nod, tucking your legs up underneath you to sit cross-legged beside him. A few moments pass, Harry happily munching away at the food as he tells you about his travels before you catch him eying your gift for him on the coffee table.

“Oh! Of course.” Leaning over you pick it up, offering it out to him. “Your secret Santa left it for you. Shame they didn’t see what you thought of it H, but I’m sure you’ll tell them later,” you murmur, your gaze fixated on the silver and gold pattern adorning the wrapping. He nods, carefully accepting it from you, toying with the bow on top.

“Did your secret Santa come through for you this year, Y/N? Get you something better than the last present?” he asks cautiously, knowing full well that his gift for you is just beside you on the end table.

“They… Shelia told me it was Lola, and she had to cancel at the last moment. But Shelia said she’d drop it off later tomorrow, so I’m fine. Just a present after all right?” you murmur, nervously fidgeting with your hands as he nods slowly, looking slightly confused. “Well, why don’t you open it, H? See what your secret Santa got you after all?”

Almost as if he wanted to drag out your nerves, Harry takes his time opening it, carefully peeling each piece of tape back first, slowly unfolding the paper, revealing the black velvet box you’d placed the frame in. He pauses, nervously wetting his lip before looking up at you through his lashes.

“Y’don’t… happen to know who this is from, do ya?” he asks softly, gently starting to push the lid off the box as you just shake your head, your body buzzing from the nerves as he focuses back on the gift in his lap.

You let out a breath you can’t remember holding when he finally sets the top to the side and pulls back the tissue. Unable to watch any longer, you grab a cracker off the nearby plate, studying it carefully before chewing on it slowly. Everything goes silent, and you just can’t bring yourself to look up at him, afraid of what his reaction will be. You can hear him brushing the tissue paper to the side, pulling the frame out of box to get a better look at the picture.

“Y/N?”

Finally breaking the tension, you force yourself to look up at him, nervously gnawing at your lower lip as your eyes meet his.

“Y/N this is just… this is lovely. Thank you so much.” His voice hardly above a whisper, he reaches up to wipe a stray tear away from his eye. “This is from Shelia’s party, yeah?” You nod, and he smiles, his finger tracing along the design of the frame. “I remember that night, y’know. Was such a special time, bein’ with you lot after so long.” He pauses, setting the frame back into the box. “It, uh… made me realize something too…”

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest, your nerves boiling over as you wait to hear what he has to say. He looks as if he’s in a bit of a daze, and it takes you saying his name a few times to draw him back down, the apples of his cheeks blushing even in the dim light of your room.

“It made me realize jus’ how important y’are to me. How I couldn’t possibly live without you,” he whispers, and admittedly you’re not quite sure what’s going on, the words that he’s saying not completely what you’d hoped for. “Maybe that’s why I acted so strange afterwards. Reckon I was a little scared because I had absolutely no idea what t’do with knowing that…”

But on instinct you reach out for him, gently taking his hand in yours, brushing your thumb over the cross tattoo. “You’re so important to me too, H. My best friend, always have been.”

He shakes his head, his other hand coming up so he’s holding both of yours as he turns to face you. “It’s not… I don’t mean it like that, love. I mean...” He takes a few deep breaths before meeting your gaze once more. “I love you, Y/N. Always have, and I think in a way I’ve always known. But it just… took me a while to figure it out.”

Everything slows to a stop as he says those words, and you’re deep in disbelief while he takes in how stunned you are, laughing softly at your expression before squeezing your hands to bring you back to him. “I’m in love with you, Y/N. Hopelessly in love with you. And I always have been.”

“I’m jus’ so sorry it took so long for me to say it, for me to realize that the one I’ve loved all this time was right beside me.” He pauses, hopping up from his seat, still holding your hands tightly. “Now before y’say anything, just give me a mo’, alright? Got something for you.” With that he pulls back enough to grab the small green gift bag he’d held closely in his hands before sitting back down, carefully slipping it into your lap. “It’s… well, I was your secret Santa this year, love. I hope you like it.”

“But I thought… why did Shelia tell me it was Lola?” you ask softly, speaking for the first time in ages as he just shakes his head, giving you a timid smile.

“Guess she just said it to throw y’off,” he hums, watching you settle the bag in your hands. “Knowing Shelia and Mark, they probably set us up with each other, so I’d finally tell you.”

You can’t help but laugh, knowing that would definitely be something they’d do as he grins at you, gaze constantly looking from your face down to the gift and back again, almost as if he’s giddy for you to see what’s inside. Unable to wait any longer, you carefully pull the tissue paper out, recklessly tossing it to the ground in a manner that makes him laugh, popping a cookie from the tray into his mouth as he watches you.

When you finally get to the bottom of the bag, you feel the soft velvet of the box before you see it. Fumbling around for a second, you’re confused when you finally get a solid grip on the small box, pulling it out of the gift bag, setting it to the side too.

The box itself is a soft plum shade, barely larger than the crackers that you’ve been nibbling on all night. Your heart races as you glance from it up to Harry who’s practically on the edge of his seat by that point, nearly bouncing as he waits for you to finally look inside to see what he’s picked out for you.

Pushing on the polished golden clasp, your eyes widen when a familiar silver glint catches your eye, though it isn’t until the box is open all the way that you realize what’s inside. You gasp when you see the rose ring, nestled in the cushion holding it in place.

“I reckoned, because you were always nicking mine, that you ought to have y’own,” he mumbles, nervously playing with his own, spinning it round as he tries to gage your reaction. “I guessed on the size, so if you need it fixed, I can handle that for you. I, uh, had a little extra somethin’ engraved on the inside, too.”

Carefully pulling it out, you turn the band in your fingers, holding up just a bit to read the scrawling text that you realize as Harry’s own handwriting on the band, the words “Always, H” coming into focus when you squint ever so slightly.

“So, d’you like it?” he asks timidly, sucking on his bottom lip as you turn it back around, carefully slipping it one of your fingers, admiring that it fits perfectly before glancing over at him.

“It’s perfect H. I love it,” you whisper, moving to rise up on your knees, shuffling closer, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks. As you tilt your head down, he seems to catch on, letting his lips press against yours as you lean against him. You’ve easily thought about this moment for so long, and it’s exactly what you imagined it to be. His lips, soft and sweet against yours, so tender as his hands slip around your waist to bring you closer to him, letting him feel the full weight of your body against his as you kiss over and over. It starts off slow, but as you get used to the feeling, each one gets shorter and shorter, until you just rest your forehead against his, the pair of you panting quietly as you gaze down at each other. You fit together so perfectly, everything so natural, that you’re almost mad that you made yourself wait for this for so long.

Harry feels the cool, gentle bite of your new ring against his skin as you hold him close, grinning up at you, leaning to nuzzle his nose against yours gently. You just can’t hold back any longer, feeling like now is finally the right time to say it. “I love you too, H. So much. Always.”

With that he steals one last kiss before pulling you properly into his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist, the pair of you snuggled close under the warm glow of the twinkling lights from the Christmas tree. He looks at you so fondly that you can’t believe that you ever doubted that he would feel the same way. He gently tucks your hair back behind your ear like he did a few weeks ago after dinner together before uttering a single word back to you.

“Always.”

~*~ There’s always something that you’ve loved about Christmas Eve, moreso than Christmas Day, if you’re being honest. There’s something about the atmosphere that comes with the anticipation of the big day, from the way everyone doing last-minute shopping treats each other with an extra special kindness, to the late phone calls wishing far away friends and loved ones Merry Christmas, the surprise visits and accompanying gifts, and the time to finally wind down and rest before the big night.

Christmas this year means something a little different for you. As you decided you’d go back to visit your family for a longer bout of time in January, you’ve stayed put in your London flat for the holidays, tagging along to Shelia’s mum’s place for a family Christmas instead of spending it alone.

But tonight, having got off work early, you headed straight home as you don’t need any last-minute presents. You’ve spent the last few hours wrapping presents, Christmas films playing on the telly, as Tom kept tearing off with the spare ribbon whenever he had a chance. You’d just finished curling the last bow, setting it into the hamper along with the other gifts you planned to bring along with you the next day when you felt your phone buzz on the tabletop.

It didn’t take you much to realize who it was, smiling when you saw Harry’s name scroll across your screen. He always had simplistic way of texting, the message just reading, “Come to your door x”. So, you pushed up from the carpet, smoothing out your jeans as you padded over, smiling when you saw him standing outside through the peephole, a few brown paper bags in his hands as you fiddled with the lock, opening it wide for him.

“’M not driving out to me mum’s until tomorrow morning. Thought we could have our first little Christmas dinner together t’night?” He pauses. “Might’ve even brought you an extra pressie or two.” He holds up a shining silver gift bag, making you roll your eyes as you shake your head.

“The ring was more than enough, Harry. You didn’t have to,” you tease as you take the food from him, helping him inside your flat.

“Nothing’s too much for you, m’love. ‘Sides, I have a few Christmases to make up for, don’t I?” he hums, catching you smiling at him when Tom saunters over to him, effortlessly swirling between his legs while Harry sheds his winter coat and pulls you in for a kiss. “‘S been too long, darling,” he murmurs, continuing along your jaw as you giggle, trying to push him away.

“I saw you last night, H,” you retort, wriggling free from his grip. You bring the food he brought along into the kitchen, pulling out the take away containers, setting them in the oven to stay warm.

“An absolute eternity, if y’ask me,” he hums, leaning against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest while he watches you.  “So, we’ll watch a bit of whatever y’got on and eat in a bit, that alright?”

“Sounds perfect, H.”

Hours later, when you’re both finally full and Harry’s properly spoiled you even more, you decide it’s time to get up from the sofa, wanting to tidy up a bit before you both head to bed. Grabbing the empty plates while Harry bags up the garbage, you head into the kitchen, rinsing them down before setting them in the dishwasher for the morning.

For some reason, you stand at the countertop for a moment longer, looking down at the ring Harry gave you, the silver rose prominent on your right ring finger. You let it spin as he comes in, gently calling your name so you’ll face him.

You nearly fall into a fit of laughter as he stands in the doorway, holding a sprig of mistletoe over his head, looking at you hopefully before seeing what’s caught your attention. “Still like it, m’love?” he hums as you nod shyly, crossing the room to come stand next to him. “Maybe next year I ought to get you another one to match?” he teases, his free hand wrapping around your waist to pull you close, grinning when you instinctively rest one hand on his chest, the other cupping his jaw as you nod.

“‘S unlucky if we don’t kiss, darlin’,” he whispers, green eyes fixated on the curve of your cupids bow before you close the space between you, bringing him in for a kiss that makes your head spin. When you finally pull back, he glances over your shoulder, seeing the time illuminated in bright green on your stove.

“‘S midnight y’know…” Pressing a kiss to the apples of your cheeks, you’re admittedly a little too flustered to understand what exactly he’s getting at until he says it. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

Brushing your thumb over his cheek, seeing the way he looks so lovingly at you, you feel like this really is what the holiday is all about. Harry steals one last kiss before he tosses the bundle he was dangling to the side to hold you properly in his arms, stopping just shy of another kiss to whisper it back to him.