#blamehim

He looked at his watch again, recalling the ten minutes that had passed since you gingerly held his hand and walked in the club together (fashionably late as always).  Only ten minutes for someone to transform a night devoted to you to a night spent collecting tears and vomit. It baffles him really; you hadn’t blinked at the suggestion of taking poor Aidan home. No one else wanted to –  their shifty eyes had been obvious. It was as if they all had silently agreed to let your happiness become swallowed by the desperate plea of your drunken mate.

Has it always been like this? Harry thinks, and he wonders if he’d ever seen your friends return the favour; he hopes they had. It’s then he promises himself to do the same, despite your stubbornness, he’ll hold you the moment your shoulders become raw from carrying the weight of the world.

And he had that early morning when you waddled home. Carelessly dropping your keys unto the floor, along with your coat and heels, you shuffled through your shared apartment when a soft smile tugged at your cheeks.  Harry was stretched across the couch, asleep, presumably waiting up for you. His arms were crossed against his taut chest, his cheek smothered into your favourite rose coloured pillow. Blood rushed from your heart to the tips of your fingers as you moved some curls away from his poufy eyes, carefully waking him up from his light sleep.

“Love,” he grumbled slowly, raising his hand to cover your small one that rested on his cheek. You kissed his raspberry lips lightly then, shoving him a tad to make room for you on the sofa and you swear you never felt more relaxed. “S’Aidan okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, closing your eyes and pressing your nose against the warmth of his neck. “Poor boy was apologizing the whole time.”

“He should have,” Harry rasped quickly, kissing your forehead to relieve the tension in his veins, “yeh should’ve been celebrating tonight.”

You nodded at his words, kissing his neck in the process. As much as you wanted to, your friend was in need, it would’ve been cruel to leave him alone in a guttered state. “Do yeh wanna talk about it?” Harry asked hesitantly.

“No,” you breathed, your mind was concerned with something else. “You didn’t have to wait for me on the couch, the beds much comfier.” His soft curls grazed your face as he shook his head and skillfully moved your five foot body to straddle his. He wrapped his legs and arms around you as if hugging a teddy bear and if you weren’t this exhausted, you would have protested to his actions (constantly asking if you were smooshing him with your weight). 

But instead, you shuffled comfortably, and allowed his soft hands to bury itself under your shirt as his raspy voice filled your ears, “Bed feels empty when yeh not there.”

⭐

Harry woke up to an empty bed the next time your care was requested. His eyes squinted through the darkly lit room when he found you hastily pulling on a pair of sweats and a shirt he wore last night that had been carelessly thrown on the floor in the midst of your collected desires.

His voice startled you as you grabbed your satchel and wove it around your head and through your arm. You turned to find Harry rubbing his eyes as he sleepily shifted and sat up to switch the lamp on. Your hooded eyes blinked instinctively from the bright light and you couldn’t help but focus on Harry.

The soft glow illuminated his angelic form, so much so that you could follow the thin hair from his v-line all the way to the swallows on his chest. The blanket had pooled in his lap, and it was very obvious he was naked underneath. Your mouth would have watered at the sight, until your eyes softened when you saw the small pout that pulled at his lip.

“Where yeh goin’ at this hour?” A soft smile tugged at your cheeks as you recognized that deep voice of his that had been scratched from slumber.

“Dante. He called me,” you sighed, pulling your hair into a ponytail. “He was crying … I think Troy left him for good.”

His tired eyes narrowed. “S’this the same bloke who shut yeh out as soon as he gotta boyfriend?”

You nodded a little numbly as you sat on the edge of the bed. In the midst of acquiring a new love, Dante had ignored your texts more often than not, mistaking your birthday to be a month later than it actually was, only to call you for advice when he was in trouble. It wasn’t fair to judge him though; he had dealt with a lot in the past year and you were happy he found someone.  But you couldn’t help but feel a little used. 

The title settled low in your stomach and your heart chipped away at its corners at the thought of him selfishly abusing your kindness. But the warmth of Harry’s hand pulled you out of your reverie as he engulfed it to leave a kiss on your shaky fingers.

He recognized the smile you showed him now; a reassuring one, that hadn’t quite reached your eyes.

“He shouldn’t be alone.”

“Bu’ why do you have to go?” He scoffed, shifting his hands to the curve of your waist. “S’not like he’d do the same.”

“I … No one should be alone,” you breathed indignantly, savouring the warmth of his thumb that massaged your skin. “I’ll be fine.”

“But—”

“Harry,” you mumbled softly, kissing the frown between his eyebrows and shaking your head slightly. “I don’t need a reward to be kind.”

⭐

It took almost a year for Harry to recognize that first sign, where the smile halts at your cheeks and U-turns before it reaches your eyes.  For the most part, anyone would simply smile at your late arrival, despite the hunch in your shoulders and tension between your puffy eyes. If it weren’t for Nick sprawled across the love-seat, snot on the surface of his sleeve, Harry would have gotten up to remove the red cloth off your small shoulders and place a plethora of kisses to your face because he knows it at least buys him a smirk from you on days like this.  

Instead, however, your trench coat is still glued to your skin when Nick comes dashing towards you in a bear hug, sniffling along the way to keep his teary-eyes at bay. Despite Nick’s resistance, a sob echoes the room, now paired with your sweet words as your delicate frame comforts his lanky body.

“What’s wrong, my love?” your voice drips of honey, but Nick refuses to answer, feeling the sting in his eyes and the twists in his gut for the fifth time today.

His silence confuses you for a second (as he gets quite chatty when he’s upset) but your eyes lock with familiar emerald ones over Nick’s shoulder, and Harry mimes his hands into the shape of heart which breaks apart as he points to his watch, and your eyes arch before it crinkles in concern - a terrible break up, one with the rotten excuse of “timing” as closure. Your gaze shifts down for a moment, momentarily thanking all those rounds of heads up, before settling on him again, determination shadowing the dread which once laid there moments before.

“Go make some tea, I’ll calm him down.”

It’s a silent suggestion, one made through eye contact, and Harry sighs a little as he stumbles around the wooden table to the kitchen, reminding himself to make some green tea (with ginger and lemon) for the girl who’s delaying her own tears due to the momentary intrusion.

When Harry shuffles back in, he fixes on the sight in front of him. You’ve moved Nick to the couch by now, your hands are holding his as whispers are past between the two of you. Nick pays no attention to his tears as he’s fixating on your words and the soothing rub of your fingers. 

Harry thinks he should move back to the kitchen, almost feeling he’s intrusion as he’s witnessing the interaction unfold. The clanking of the rings on his favourite mug makes his presence known, and he stiffens at his abrupt disturbance before relaxing as it’s been rightfully ignored.  

“There will be a lot of people who will hurt you. A lot of people that will take you for granted. And despite all that fear, all that pent up panic, you fell in love. You did that, you beautiful soul.” It’s the first smile Harry’s seen from Nick all day, and you mirror the smirk as the inside joke plays between you both. “S’gonna be painful for a while, I won’t lie to you, but … to quote our favourite show … Every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don’t always spoil the good things and make them unimportant.”

There is a low hum that centers in the living room now, and Nick’s thankful for it - for you. And he crashes into your arms again for a tight embrace that he hopes holds all his appreciation.

Harry licks the tea of his fingers once he finally sets the mugs down, and dashes to the other side of the couch to crush you both with a hug of his own and he smiles in triumph (dimples on full display) as laughter bubbles out of the three of you.

“Oi boy get off me you prick!” Nick squeals from the Hawaiian shirt awkwardly stuffed over his mouth. A warm shoulder is awkwardly shoved under your chin as his stupid six foot build nonchalantly rests over the both of you. “You’re fuckin’ heavy!”

A pinch to his love handles sends Harry off the now crushed bodies and when he stands you savour the hint of cologne and warmth that lingers in the air. A dramatic puff escapes your pouty mouth as you peer up at the perpetrator, hair sticking in all sorts of places, and it’s then he sees the smile falter from your face when your eyes momentarily shift from his own to the wall behind him.

Nick is speaking again (with a few sniffles along the way), discussing what movie to watch and Harry’s listening as he sits on the coffee table directly in front of you two, but he can’t help become distracted of the somber aura that’s disintegrated around you now. He wants to know what’s playing in your head when he catches your eyes skirt down to the fingers on your lap.

“Think we should watch the Notebook,” Harry suggests with a little smile, grabbing the two mugs behind him. “Wait – no that’s Y/N’s, this ones yours bud.”

Nick accepts it graciously, blowing over the hot beverage before he spots the mug in your hand. He’s quick to make a jab at his mate for the sheer allowance of you drinking from Harry’s ‘special’ mug, despite the times a raspy voice snapped at Nick for even grabbing at the damn thing. But the joke dies on his tongue once he’s reminded of his exes possessive nature over certain glassware – which he’d reluctantly have to pack up and move out himself. The thought sends a bubble to his throat, and he excuses himself this time, leaving with a quick promise to return before he rushes to the guest bedroom.

“Should we go after him?” Your head is turned to where Nick dashed through, and it gives Harry a moment to study the second sign of the day – dry eyes and the faint discolour of your foundation that begins at your eyes and streams downward.  

His knee bumps yours as he wiggles it closer, right in-between your legs, and his warm fingers sneak to the end of your chin, forcing your gaze towards him. He leaves your question unanswered with only a shake to his head, and he doesn’t speak again, choosing to shift his eyes around your face. The mug is still in your hand and you move away from Harry’s grip to take a sip, admiring the chip at the top from the time you accidentally bumped its glass at the edge of the sink after you scrambled to clean it once you heard a jingle of keys and familiar footsteps at the door.  

He’s observing you now, savouring your strict gaze on the faint smoke above the hot tea, and he almost had to repeat his question. Finally, you looked up with a tired smile, one not quite as strained as before. “Sorry,” you breathed, “I was just thinking.” Your voice was soft, almost tense, like someone had hit you in the gut and you were still recovering. “I get lost a lot these days,” you added shaking your head, “I’m sorry.”

“None of that now,” the mug was moved out of your hands and placed on the spot beside Harry. His hands instinctively rose to cup your cheeks, green eyes shifting to the doorway behind you to ensure privacy. “My love,” he rasps, licking his lips while leaning towards you. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

A deafening silence danced around the room. Your eyes had fallen shut and your frail hand cupped the anchor on his wrist. He guesses you’re contemplating what to tell him, fearing you’d intrude his mind with your troubled thoughts. It’s an improvement, he gathers, when you were just friends you’d simply walk out of the room, but here it’s just him, waiting for you - as he always had. And you’re thankful for it, even more so when he wraps his arms around you when he spots the tight jut to your stomach in retaliation of the tears glistening over your irises.  

“M’here, pet, m’here … not goin’ anywhere - promise.” He kisses your forehead as if to solidify his words and he expects to feel a certain wetness on his shoulder, instead finding your lips molding on his in a sweet kiss. Before you’re able to pull back, though, he presses your lips together again, trying his best to drain all that tension around your body. And he smiles when you melt against him, choosing to pertly kiss the end of your nose as an end to his brief treatment.

He’s looking up at you now when you stand, small hands on taut shoulders as his larger ones rest peacefully on your hips. Your smile is improving now, and it drops a little when you make eye contact with his that shines unbridled. You observe his earnest smile, one to at first please thousands of fans, but the familiar eyes gleam in curiosity, and ... disappointment? 

He wants to know what’s made you upset, but most of all, he wants to know your reluctance in being vulnerable around him. He curses your dedication to ensure the happiness of others, but you’re in his home, in his arms – safe, with a man who loves you dearly – isn’t that enough?

“Let’s go check on Nick, hmm?” His hair feels soft under your touch, and he leans into it, the other hand resting on his cheek as the smooth yet prickly texture battles across his arguably attractive peach fuzz. Your hand then moves out in front of him as you step back. “Come on, bub, wanna make sure he’s okay first. Then we’ll talk.”

⭐

Harry doesn’t hear you walk back in this time. He’s waiting up for you on the couch that same night, TV playing softly in the background as he catches up on his reading. Nick is asleep on the opposite side of the couch, having been too exhausted to wait up for the junk food you had promised to buy him (ben & jerry’s ice cream to be exact). 

You shrug off your coat as agonisingly slowly as possible, frail arms burning from all the boxes you hurriedly packed and carried out of the bloke’s house, and into your car for about three hours straight. Harry had begun to worry at your absence, but a text about your general detour made him relent as he focused all his energy on cheering Nick up.  

Your eyes are straining under the dim light, your chest slumping as your heart, heavy as a ton of bricks, watches the crinkle in his eyebrows when he flicks through the old book you had given him for his birthday.  Sometimes when you see him like this, your stomach cavorts in the image – this man, adored by millions, is waiting up on the couch for you. He’s as mundane as he could be, and it takes nearly a second for you to lick your lips and ultimately declare defeat. 

There’s a quiver at your mouth then and you bite down on your chapped lips to stop the tears rimming your eyes. Your hand flies to your mouth as the vision of Harry blurs and you shuffle across the floor towards him in a soft pace. He doesn’t even notice you yet, until you sniffle and grab the book out of his hand. 

“Love, are yeh –” 

He stops immediately at the startling shake of your head, and his heart breaks at the sight. He’s frozen, almost confused at what to do, but you lead him as you pick his hands as if playing with a doll, while you snake your legs to straddle either side of his waist before you settle your forehead on his shoulders as the sobs shake your small frame. 

He’s warm right now, arms squeezing around you as tight as he can. He shifts his head on yours, whispering lowly to you, concern and relief filling throughout his body. 

“I got yeh peaches, don’ worry now.” He can feel how tight you’re gripping him and he uses his non-ringed hand to smooth the hair on your head. “Love you so much. M’here and m’never leavin’ yeh okay?” 

Each sob is a punch to his chest, but he’s glad you’re not alone, he’s glad you let him in, and most of all, he’s glad he’s here to hold you when your shoulders weaken from the oncoming storm. 

And as your tears finally decease into small hiccups, your left cheek lands on his shoulders as your swollen eyes gaze towards the TV series playing softly in front of you. Harry’s hand is rubbing soothingly against your back before it falters as relevant words echo from the late night re-run.

“Mumma,” he whined, tugging on her long dress. “I wanna dance again mumma!”

“Oh honey mumma’s tired,” she sighed crashing down on the seat closest to her. “Why don’t you go on and dance with Gemma, hmm?”

He glanced at his sister and shook his head rather violently. “No. She always tells me I step on her feet. I wanna dance with you!”

“Love, why don’t you ask that little girl over there?” She twisted her son around to find you in a floral dress that shimmered against the lights thanks to all the glitter it displayed. “I reckon she’d dance with you.”

“Go on now, mumma will watch.” She said with a pat to his cheek and a light push in your direction. Once he shuffled away, Anne sighed and rubbed at her aching feet. He really does step on people’s feet.

Anne watched as her small boy in the little tuxedo tapped the girl’s shoulders with a faint blush to his cheeks. Your pigtails turned to the side as you instinctively shook your head at his question. And Anne frowned at the slump in Harry’s shoulders when he waddles back to her.

“Oh my love,” she cooed, bringing him in for a hug and kissing his head. “Was her loss anyways. Mumma will dance with you after she has some rest okay?”

“Um excuse me?” The light and familiar voice brought his head up from his mother’s lap. “Mum told me I was rude and shouldn’t say no like that.”

His smile twisted up instinctively as your head turned down and you rocked on the edges of your feet. “Do ya still wanna dance?”

“Okay! I – “

“Wait,” you sighed, putting one hand on your hip while the other points to his face. “You didn’t ask me porperly.”

“Properly, hun” Anne chimed in.

You nodded, face scrunching in determination. “Pro-per-ly.”

“Ya see I’m a princess! And you’re a prince and you have to ask me like a prince!” You lifted your fluffy dress on the tips of your fingers and bowed to him and nodded your head when he bowed as well.

His tiny hand moved in front of you remembering all the Disney movies he’d watch. “My lady.”

“My lord,” you giggled, gingerly taking his fitting hand as you both waddled to the dance floor.

⭐

The second time he dances with you, you’re standing at the side of the gym. It was that time of the year again where every girl in the goddamn school brings their happy-go-lucky father to dance the night away. 

Why do they even have this event? 

It was hard enough as a teenager whenever the regular school dances would be put on, but this – this was twisting the knife that your absent father had left.

You don’t even know how a meeting with your principal to bring your mother to the dance instead brought on a volunteer position, but here you were - pouring punch for everyone, miserable on the stench of the memories you’ve missed out on.

“Need a hand?” A voice interrupts your thoughts.

“No, I’m good.” You sniffled, head down to deter the small tears that surfaced. “I actually – ”

Your head finally lifts and your eyes  slightly pop out. “Harry?”

He chuckled, grinning at your surprise. “Hello, love.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, careful not to show any disdain. “I – um I thought you had a date.”  

He shrugs, the suit he wore for you scrunching in the process. “Rather be here.”

“At a father-daughter dance?” you scrutinized. “I can’t believe you didn’t invite me to the baby shower!”

He rolled his eyes and sheepishly rubbed at his neck. “Ha ha very funny.” Curly locks covered his eyes as he looked down and then his eyes gazed into yours, tainted with something you deemed as pity. “I just,” he paused not quite sure about his next words.

“Harry,” you smiled abandoning the punch. “I’m fine.”

“No no no, yeah I know s’just,” he cleared his throat, “figured you’d want a dance.”                                                                                                                     

You chuckled to hide the stir in your belly. He was looking out for you, he knew how emotionally draining Father’s Day was for you so he deemed this dance to be particularly torturous. Plus, he himself has a little scar left from his parent’s divorce and if he could soften the huge hole in your chest for a little while then it was worth it.  

“I’m not really wearing proper dance clothes.” You remarked, pulling at the marvel shirt you sported.

“You look beautiful.” His eyes pouring into yours with such candor. 

“Come on love, my foot’s tapping already,” he says with a smirk. “And there’s actually somethin’ I need to ask you, but first let’s dance yeah?”

⭐

To your surprise, and his mother’s, Harry was a kind and gentle boyfriend. He’d help you with your math homework, bring you flowers when he’d seen you stress over school. He would send text messages in the morning and call you for a warm good night. He’s a hopeless romantic that’s for sure, and you blame yourself for that one since you’d practically forced him to watch all those romantic comedies with you when you were younger.

It’s been a good year together and tonight was to celebrate that.

You smooth the wrinkles on your dress when your knight in shining armour opens the door with a giant grin, mouth agape when he takes you in.

“Wow,” he breathes, “I’m a lucky man.”

“Oh shhh.” You move and peck his cheek to hide your blush but he shifts his lips on yours for a welcoming kiss. “You’re hardly a man anyways.”

“Ouch that hurts love,” he scoffs teasingly. “Come on now, we’re in the backyard.” His hand tugs yours and when it arrives at a stop, it’s your turn for your mouth to turn agape.

You’ve seen his backyard countless of times, but never like this. 

A table was set out in the center of the room, a long candle as a centerpiece, and two deliciously looking meals set out at front. It looked fancy and carefully planned, but the glistening fairy lights that accessorized his fence was what had gotten you distracted. Soft music was playing on his mum’s vinyl player and when you finally turn your head towards him you find his gaze on yours.

“Harry this is … it’s beautiful.” You were the one to kiss him this time around, not caring if you’re lipstick smudged a tad. By the end of your little detour, you both were breathing heavily, grinning at each other, drunk on each others presence.

“I’m guessing you liked it, yeah?” He chuckled as he moved you to your chair, pulling it out for you.

The meal was lovely and afterwards he pulled you to the grass as a make shift dance floor. His right hand held yours and melted on his chest, while your other went to his shoulder and his on your hip. The last time you had danced together, your eyes had meet at an equal height, but now he’s a little taller and you reckon you can rest your head on his shoulder comfortably.

When you do, his head falls on yours and your eyes close when he gives you kiss on the forehead. The hand holding his on his chest shifts to around his back and you could practically feel your hearts hammering together.

“Y/N,” he sighs, rubbing your back to distract himself. “I’m glad my mum forced me to dance with you.”

You chuckled, smiling at your ridiculousness. “Sorry I rejected you.”

“Hmm, think that was m’first heart break ya know,” he pushed, loving the way you squirmed embarrassingly and kissed his neck as an apology.

“Think it was destiny.” His adam apple pulps up and he licks his lips. “Mum always says, loss triggers love.”

“S’that why people find love when they’re not looking for it?”

“Maybe.” He whispered lowly to you, his heart pulsing more at his reveal. 

“Maybe,” he cleared his throat, “that’s how I fell in love with you.”

⭐

“C’mon Y/N lets go! The limo is here.”

Your mother tinkered away at her camera waiting on your arrival as the rest of your friends gathered at the bottom of the stairs. At the sound of heels clicking on the staircase, she raised her gaze and despite her control tears streamed freely down her rosy cheeks.

“Oh stop it mom, you’re going to make me cry.” Your voice was a little shaky but you held your domain when you walked up to hug her. It was a long one that held words you’d say to each other only once in awhile, and when you pulled back you cleaned her tears.

She took tons of pictures of you, your friends, and their dates so you could remember this moment forever. Once you were the last to go into the limo she gave you another bone-crushing hug. “Is Harry…?”

You shook your head looking down. “No, he’s too busy.” She gave you a sympathetic look (one that your friends seemingly gave you at the news). “It’s okay mom, he’s doing big things now. All I can do is support him, yeah?”

With that you went in and drove off to the night of all nights. Prom was always a huge deal, you never quite understood why, but then again you’re sitting at the table alone watching your friends laugh and sing with their dates.

You want to join them, but you feel your stomach drop every time people would complain about Harry not leaving his fancy TV series for a day with you. But he was living his dream, or at least getting a step closer to it, and you didn’t want to be the one to hold him back.

“Fancy a dance?”

You turn to find your lovable friend Micky holding out his hand for you, and you stamp your eyes at the thought of Harry surprising you instead.

“M’not really in the mood.” You gave him a wry smile, “I’d be bad company.”

“Nonsense! C’mon, Y/N. It’s our prom.”

You shrugged, letting him pull you to the dance floor. Micky was a terrible dancer, but he sure was fun. He’d break out the lawn mower suddenly and you’d giggle at his antics, showing him the light bulb move. He lifted your spirits that was for sure, but when the slow music came on you felt a little awkward about him holding you. He was a gentleman however, keeping two paces away to respect the relationship you had.

“Sorry mate, do you mind if I cut in?”

“Yeah sure,” he let you go with a squeeze at your hands and a pat to his mate’s back. “About time you showed up.”

The boy is standing before you, and he almost looks like your Harry.

Except he’s in a custom made suit that you hadn’t seen in his closet before. His usual mane perfectly combed back and you spot the light makeup pampered on his already perfect face. Despite all these small changes, it was his emerald eyes that destroyed your guard. It held a different aura to them now, as if he was seeing you in the past, and it sent a chill throughout your core.

“Hi.” He smiled, teeth chewing at his rosy lips.

“Hey.”

“Do you wanna – we should –” He wanted to talk. About you and him and everything, and he wanted to be alone to do so.

“Yeah yeah, but let’s dance.” You took his hand despite him giving you a nod to the corridor out front. This was your prom, and despite the conversation you’d have with him, you wanted to be in his arms.  

His hands enclosed on your hips and yours trapped his shoulders. It was familiar for the both of you and you relaxed at that. His head was whirring with words that was usually easy for him, but something prevented them from ever reaching his lips. He felt different, and it was hard to explain it to the girl he fell hard for.

“How um … How is being famous?” you breathed, sparking conversation.

“Not quite famous yet, m’just on the telly,” he strained a chuckle. “How are you?”

“M’good. M’good. Mum’s good too. She misses you at the house.”

“Miss her cooking,” he chuckled this time.

“Well now you get fancy chefs to cook for you.” You combed through his hair. “And stylists.”

“S’weird.” He said almost defensively. “M’ just singing yeh know? And it’s like I have to sell myself to do what I love.”

“That’s Hollywood baby.” You winked at him as soft giggles erupted between the two of you. “But in all seriousness, it’s only weird now because it’s the beginning. Just watch in a few years it’ll be natural for you.”  

He scoffed at that, if he was supposed to get used to people following him all day he’d throw up.

“M’ proud of you though. I really truly am.”

This Harry was different, you gathered. He was in a place he had longed to be, and if the judges witnessed the enormous talent you watched shape within him all these years, then my God would he be incredibly successful. You can see it now, him singing to thousands of people, his signature on people’s backs and arms or wherever else they wanted his autograph. He’d meet people who understood that life and shared his goals, and although a couple months back you had seen a different vision for Harry – you had to admit this one suited him the best, even if you couldn’t see yourself in the picture.

You throat felt strained and you bite your lip for control. “Just promise me,” you breathe while stroking his cheek and relishing the new stubble on his chin. “When you get all big and famous, you’ll remember me, yeah?”

He shook his head violently curls following suit. “You’ll be with me.” He squeezed your hips and carefully brought you chest to chest to solidify his words. “You’ll be with me every step of the way.”

“Harry – ”

“I love you.”

Tears eventually scorched down your cheek when he brought you in for a deep kiss that held his truth. A hand moved to cup your face and he rested his forehead on yours when he pulled back, eyes stamped shut in frustration. “I’m never gonna let you go not if –”

You shushed him with a peck to kiss lips and he opened his eyes finally to find you looking up at him. Your hair was longer than he remembered, and there was a new scar on your shoulder which he would have noticed if he wasn’t away from you for so long. He had missed you, and not just in your presence, but in the way you were growing without him.

His stomach finally dropped when you had reluctantly breathed the words he had nightmares about.

“I’m letting you go.”

⭐

The wedding chimes and soft ballad reminds him of the first time he moved to the rhythm. He had twirled with his mother and allowed her to place his feet on top of hers. They swayed to the music for hours, and he likes to think that’s when he started singing too. His mum would always start and then he’d sing along with her. It was a sweet and gentle memory, possibly the only nice memory he had of dancing with someone he loved.

Harry had gotten quite teased by Jeff and the rest his friends for his not so normal party behaviour. It was the reception before the wedding, hot as hell in Hawaii, and he was running around playing with an adorable two year old. She was full of giggles when he first met the gal, and her mother was delighted to find someone for her to play with.

“I got yeh little one!” She erupted in giggles and wrapped her little arms around his legs. He picked her up and she boped his nose. “Looks like you got me, huh.” He cooed at her rubbing his nose on her cheek.

A startling scream echoed across the grass, surprisingly coming from her mother that sat a few feet away for them. His eyes moved to the commotion. She was squealing and hugging some girl whose face was slightly turned away from him. He felt the air shift a bit until he looked down to find the two year old scrambling out of his arms and running straight for the new guest.

His mouth turned agape when the woman’s back turned around to gather the little squealing gal into her arms. 

His fingers tingled at the familiar smile you gave to your friends. He shook his head and moved towards you, lifting his sunglasses and hat and placing them on a table, he didn’t want to look like that in front of you. It’s been years after all.

“I just got off the plane now,” you rambled, happy to have made it. “I was able to score a ticket at the last minute.”

“This is the best surprise,” she cooed at her daughter, loving the break she’d get knowing you’d take care for the day. “This girl missed you the most.”

“Not quite true love.”

The voice piped out from behind you, and you turned to find someone you hadn’t quite expected to find. “Harry,” you breathed. And he smiled at you, both of you swallowing each other’s image as if you’d forget.

“Oh go on love introduce yourself,” the mother mused, believing it was his stardom that had gotten your mouth slightly ajar.

Harry chuckled at that, his hands behind his back as he steps forward. “We actually know each other. I grew up with Y/N.”  

“Yeah,” shaking your head. “Last time I saw this guy he was going on the X-Factor.” You chuckled, despite the tainted memory.

“This is wonderful! Come come, let’s sit, you have to tell me all his embarrassing stories!”

By the end of the night, the table was filled with friends of Harry’s, all getting a chance to know the woman who had first claimed his heart. Drinks were pushed around, as the lights settled around the open room. Harry’s arm was around your chair and Nick almost teased him from the splitting grin he was sporting. Nick of course knew the history, you were the girl that got away, and Harry unknowingly dedicated many songs to your relationship together.

“I think I should take this little one to her mothers,” you said staring down at the child who took a nap on your chest. “It was lovely to meet you all, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Amongst the goodbyes, Harry stood with you suddenly, looking as nervous as he once felt the first time he asked you to dance. “I’ll walk with yeh.”

“Sure,” you smiled, waving at the last of his friends as you turned towards the suites of the hotel.

The walk was silent, something you hadn’t quite expected. You reckon he was trying to form the right words to say, a habit of his he might have perfected throughout the years of being in the spotlight. 

“You know, you don’t have to be so nervous.” You chuckled, shifting the girl in your arms.

He gave you a sheepish smile and pulled at his hair. “Is it that obvious?”

“Just a little bit.” You turned to face him once you stop at the right hotel number. “You don’t have to be.”

“I know, I know,” he breathed, eyes roaming across your face, noticing everything he’s missed. Your hair is longer, and you have a couple more piercings on your ears then he remembered. Your eyes look a little rounder and he notices a small dimple on the side of your right cheek when you smile. “S’just, s’a lot to take in, yeah?”

“Hmm,” you nodded, recognizing the man he’s turned out to be. “We’ll talk. But first can you knock on the door my arms are tired.”

“Shit, yeah yeah, sorry.”

The walk to your door was a slow one, trying to extend the conversation you both longed to have. It was Harry who suggested to sit at the bench of the park out front, and once you did, your heels quickly came off with a dramatic sigh. “Heels are the worst,” you mumbled rubbing the soles of your feet.

“I wouldn’t know,” the cheesy bastard grinned at you, relishing in the irritated look you gave him as you tried to smack him on his chest. He grabbed at your wrist shaking his finger at you. “Well that’s not very nice.”

“Oh shove it. Hey wait,” you paused grabbing at the hand that pulled away from you. You brought it closer as you inspected his tattoos: a mermaid, a rose, a ship. It was random that was for sure, each one probably holding a memory that encompasses itself. As much as you wanted to know about them, you realized in the minute you hadn’t spoken, Harry’s hand rested at your thigh. He was rubbing his thumb, despite the sweat on the surface of your skin.

Somehow in the midst of your innocent touches, your lips landed on his, savouring the taste of rum and coke on his tongue. He moaned slightly as you sucked on his bottom lip, and he returned one of his as if returning your flippant behaviour. The hand at the your bare back woke you from your state and you pulled back suddenly, the force making you stand from his hold.

“What,” you breathed. “We shouldn’t, I mean, we just saw each other!” Using the heels of your hands to rub at your eyes. “I don’t even know if you have a someone, oh no what if I just let you cheat on them. Oh god.”

Of course you’re concerned about that, he hadn’t exactly made it clear he wasn’t seeing anyone. You didn’t either, he thinks. You’ve both changed a lot in the years, but it’s nice to know you still pace around whenever you’re over-thinking. And he knows exactly how to calm you down.

“I’m not.” He stands moving towards you despite the step back you took. His shoulders slump and he tilts his head at you. “Swear on my life I’m not. Haven’t for awhile.”

“Me too.”

There’s a hum in the air from the lightning passing between the pairs of eyes. It’s then you recognize his intent when he takes of his shoes and lays them gently beside yours. The lights of the hotel creates a shadow across his face when he holds his hand out to you.

“My lady,” he grins, dimples carving into his cheeks.

You’re glad to see the hopeless romantic in him hasn’t ceased.

“My lord,” you bow, girlishly giggling at him while he pulls your small frame in his arms. Your right hand lands on his chest while his left wraps around yours. The hand on your hip taps to the chords of the ballad, and he sways you to the rhythm.

It’s different, still familiar, but different. Your head can fall to his chest with ease, and you feel more ridges and dips from the muscles he’s developed. You’re on your tippy toes when you kiss his dimples and your lips tingle at the harsh stubble.

“I’ve missed this.” He confesses, head turned down in a low whisper. “Missed you.”

“Impossible!” You grin at him and he swallows your giggles in a shattering kiss that sends tingling to your toes as they brush against the grass. His lips send smacking ones to yours as you maneuver closer and closer, his hands finding themselves around your waist while yours play with his straighter locks. He can feel the curves he’s missed out on and he almost whimpers.

“Shit sorry,” in his eager to get you closer his heavy foot crushes over yours. And you laugh at the pout he’s put on.

“S’okay. We should probably slow down anyways.” You really don’t want to, the sun has kissed his skin in a way that makes you want to pull off his clothes and explore it yourself.

“No,” he whines, rubbing his nose on your neck and hugging you tighter than before. “Hate that you’re right.” He mumbles something incoherent and when he repeats, his new raspy voice lands slowly to your ear in a low moan. “Fuck, I want you.”

He’s pressing into you, rubbing your core, and he kisses your ear. “You look lovely.”

His innocent words contrast his intentions, but he steps back and gives you a once over. “Still as beautiful as I remember.”

“Oh geez,” you scoff, heat rising to your cheeks. “I think those romantic comedies are going to your head.”

“Maybe,” he laughs hard, hand moving to his stomach and you can’t help but chuckle at his boyish grin. The laughter ceases when he twirls a piece of your hair in his finger. He’s just staring at it, in deep thought. 

You don’t interrupt him - he’s choosing his words again.

“I think,” he looks to you now placing his hand on your neck. “S’best if we take baby steps, yeah? Don’t wanna scare you away.”

Finally when you were pushed in the kitchen to help with baking birthday cupcakes for little two year old Jamie, his stepdad probed about Harry’s intentions with you, his suspicions slightly confirmed when Harry rambled for all of five minutes about your close friendship. It was easy to see the admiration he had for you, enough to bring you to the most intimate parts of his life. And the way he blushed slightly while gushing about all your accomplishments – a habit of his really – Robin just about knew Harry was smitten.

By the end of that first day, he finds you in the back yard, Jamie firmly attached to your back as you exaggerate the little old game of hide-n-seek. He studies you for a moment, his lips spread into a smirk as he watches you stomp sluggishly in the direction behind the snickering bushes. He likes seeing this side of you, crinkled eyes and a fresh grin adorned on your flushed face as your usual goofiness amplifies for the amusement of the young audience.

“A natural,” he thought, green eyes adoring your motherly instincts.

The bubbling laughter suddenly echoes as the kids carelessly attack you from their spot, knocking you on your bum with a loud thump. 

Harry barks a high pitched chortle, clapping his hands together, trying his best to hold his composure as he walks slowly over to you. His wicked laughter had earned the attention of the children for a mere second before they run around inside the house at their mother’s beck and call. Jamie scatters off your back when she spots Harry, jumping in his arms in a fit of giggles.

“Easy there, button,” he chuckles lightly, adjusting her comfortably on his hip as he holds out a hand for you, of which you graciously accepted. “Yeh know,” he rasps with a smug look on his face, eyes following you as you brushed dirt off your clothes without a hint of embarrassment, “the plan s’for yeh to keep me company, love, n’ not sit on your ass all day.”

You narrow your eyes at his humour while pursing your lips, turning to Jamie to tickle her. “Harry’s not bein’ very nice now is he?” You cooed, completely ignoring the deep chuckles that ensues from him as you disregard his comment (and your tumble moments before). A blubbery laugh escapes her as she manages to move her tiny hands towards Harry’s locks, pulling at them. 

“Ow!” Harry squawks, moving her on his hips in an attempt to draw her away from his hair. “No no, let go fo’ me, please?” He pleads, one hand holding her as the other carefully yanks at her hands.

You snicker at the sight before you, Jamie refuses to let go of his locks so every time he pulls her hand away his head goes following suit. His head is tilted sideways now, and he waddles in a semi-circle so his pleading eyes could face yours for help. “Y/N!” He whines at you, eyebrows crinkled into a small frown. 

You were inching to grab your phone to take a quick snap, but decided against it as you could almost hear the hair being ripped out of his head from the amount of force the little one used. 

“Jamie,” you hum calmly, wrapping your hand around hers and grabbing her attention with your words. “S’not nice to grab at others, right?” You nod as Jamie looks at you. “Yeh wouldn’t want me to grab at your pretty lil head, hmm?” You add, shaking your head and tickling her, as you swiftly moved her hands away from her new toy. “There we go, sweetie! C’mere.” 

Jamie squeals as her tiny little arms reach out to you and you welcome her, twirling her in the air and putting her on the ground with soft kisses on her cheeks. You point to her mom through the glassed doors, and she waddled immediately away to her new distraction. 

You rise up from your crouched position, smirking at Harry as his fingers rub soothingly at his scalp. 

“Oi, stop smiling!” He cackles, joining you in your abrupt laughter. 

Your hand rested on your stomach from the giggles that escaped your lips. “Karma, karma, karma,” you tsked at him with a giant grin on your face. 

He wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in as you continued to laugh. He looks down at you and finds your forehead resting on his chest, as you attempt to stifle your giggles. He squeezes your arm a bit as you looked up at him, fresh tears in your eyes. And he laughs out too, chest vibrating underneath yours. 

Your laughter ceases as his hands come up to your face to wipe the tear that fell from your eye. He rubs your cheeks so soothingly, and his eyes fixes on yours in a strong gaze. Your breath slows at the intimacy of the moment, as you smile to relieve the tension in your cheeks. 

There’s a shift in the air as you two gaze at each other, but neither of you make a move, not wanting to cross the line of friendship without being exceedingly clear at the intentions. But neither of you pull away either.

“I did miss yeh today, love,” he confesses softly. “My family keeps stealin’ yeh away from meh.” He jokes, alleviating the flutter in his stomach from your proximity. 

And you laugh from his comment and the nervousness in your chest. “I know, H.” You tell him, as his hand moves a strand away from your face and you feel his fingers shell over the edge of your ear causing you to shutter a tad. “But let’s go inside, hmm? We can play a game of scramble to make up for the lost time.”

He nods at that, taking a quick pause before he lets go of you, allowing you to grab his arm and pull him towards his home. 

⭐

By the third morning, he finds you cooking breakfast with his mum, specks of flour decorating your cheeks from the chocolate chip pancakes you were baking. And when everyone’s all sat together to eat, Harry absentmindedly rubs his thumb on the white speck earning curious eyes from around the table.

“Thanks,” you return, smiling brightly, completely oblivious to the display of affection. “Anne, these baked beans are delicious!”

Her eyes crinkle warmly at you. “S’an old family recipe, hun. I can teach you how to make it if you’d like?” You gave an eager nod to that, thinking about cooking the dish for Harry from time to time whenever he feels particularly homesick. “It’s really easy too,” she adds with a faint shake to her head. “I’ve tried teaching Harry, but he refuses to learn.”

“S’cause yeh make it the best mum,” he chuckles as little Jamie scampers on to his lap to eat with him. The two year old has grown quite attached to Harry over the course of the reunion, refusing to eat or sleep without him holding her tiny frame. Gemma tried once to grab Jamie from his hold, but she got a piercing scream in return which ultimately forced poor Harry to carry around the little bugger everywhere he went.

“You sure s’not cause you’re bad at cooking?” His cousin Natalie counters, fondly looking at the sight of Harry and Jamie together. “I still remember the taste of those pancakes you made once.”

“I was 10!” Harry exclaims feigning offence. 

“No, the worst of it was that birthday cake he made for mum,” Gemma chuckles, raising a glass to her lips. “He used salt instead o’ sugar and mum’s face was absolutely priceless when she took a bite!”

The whole table erupted in laughter, Harry becoming the centre of attention once again (this time being the person they laughed at instead of with). His relatives had all joined in on the fun, retelling some of his most embarrassing moments. He scowled at you trying to get you to weave them out of the topic, but you were no help to his cause, clapping your hands together in laughter as you encouraged his family members for more juicy stories about his youth.

“Sorry Harold, the truth was not in your favour this morning,” you muse finishing off your last piece of egg, snickering slightly. Harry was bouncing Jamie on his lap, hands busy as he tries to feed her. “How does someone even set a bagel on fire?”

“I was 10!” He barks again, aggressively pushing his hair back that had fallen into his face for the fourth time in twenty minutes. “Oi, Jamie d-don’t rub the jam on your hands yeh silly girl.” He grabs a napkin to wipe the mess she carelessly made.

“I can put your hair in a bun for you if you’d like,” Natalie said softly. “It’ll jus’ keep gettin’ in the way.”

“S’fine, thank yeh though, bu’ I’ll do it once Jamie here is done eatin’.”

Natalie nodded, a little disappointed. She had only ever managed to get her hands on his hair when they were younger. It was shorter than, but it hadn’t looked as nearly becoming as the length he had on now. Anne was looking at her; green eyes seemed to be far too knowing. Natalie flushed, grabbing the dishes and putting them in the sink to distract herself.

“Gemma dear,” Anne spoke, “d’yeh mind bringing a comb from upstairs? I want to do Jamie’s hair before she messes anythin’ else.”

“I can get it,” you interjected with a sweet smile, “I need to grab my books anyways.”

“Thank you, sweetie,” Anne replies as you skip towards the staircase. “Smart girl that one is, future doctor I reckon.”

Harry hummed in delight, knowing full well of the capacity of your knowledge. You’d always muse about all the topics you learnt from class. He’d do his best to understand you, but your mind always ran a mile a minute, speeding up just a tad whenever you were up late with three cups of coffee in your system. Nevertheless, he’d always stay with you to help you study, often learning a plethora of information to which he ends up rambling on about philosophy or astrophysics to his other friends (thanks to you).  

“Want me to tie it back for yeh?” Anne asked as she witnessed him attempt to blow away the hair that had fallen on his face once again.

Harry adjusted Jamie on his lap as she played with his fingers, “M’good,” he mumbled as gently as he could, not liking the attention everyone seemed to have with his hair. “Are yeh making yeh’re chicken roast fo’ dinner?” He asks excitedly, changing the subject.

“Of course, dear,” his mother mused, grabbing the dishes from the table. “Wouldn’t be a family reunion without mum’s famous supper now would it?”

You waddled back into the room, a giant textbook in one hand and a comb in the other. You sat back to your original seat beside Harry and tickled Jamie as she giggled at you. “If you want, Auntie, I can do Jamie’s hair for you.”

Anne smiled at being called Auntie by the young woman, but decided not to comment on it.

“Oh, that would be lovely - I’ll go and get a start on cooking for tonight!” She says with a wink in Harry’s direction as she left to the kitchen along with everyone else who dispersed to other corners of the house after their meal.

“Can you flip her around?” You asked, standing over the two of them, and removing the hair tie on Jamie’s head.

Harry did as you requested, moving to the side a little so you had better access. “Oh Y/N tomorrow nigh’, don’t make any plans, wanna take yeh to my favourite spot in town.”

Your eyebrows rise in suspicion. “Is it the bakery?” You ask shifting your eyes from combing Jamie’s hair to his emerald ones with an amused smile.

“No!” He rasps, smirking slightly “....well it’s part of it.” He finally confesses under your piercing gaze. “Jus’ don’t make any promises to cook or anthin’ like tha’. Wantcha’ all to myself for a mo’”

“Hmm..” you smirk trying your best to hold in a grin. “I’ll see what I can do.” You promise, finishing up the two pigtail plaits you made for Jamie and giving her a kiss on the forehead. “Are you gonna tell me what else we’ll be doing?” You demand, sitting down across from the pair, opening your textbook.

“Well, it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told yeh now would it?” He answers smugly and you roll your eyes at that shifting your attention to your book.

“Oi Jamie, s’not nice to grab things tha’ aren’t yours.” Harry squawked, removing her frilly hands that tugged on his long hair again. Jamie babbled back at him still grabbing at his curly locks as Harry hisses in pain. He grabs a spoon from the table handing it to Jame to distract her for awhile as he sighs from relief.

Harry looks over to you then, nose in your book and lost in the world of human anatomy. He glances over to the comb on the table, then shifts his gaze from the plaits you wove for Jamie to you ... an idea came before him.

“Jamie’s hair looks really nice,” he mutters as casually as he could, clearing his throat.

His comment was ignored.

“Could yeh maybe...” he licks his lips, stumbling over his words and he huffs. “S-she keeps pullin’ at it an--” Your eyes finally fix on him. “N-nevermind...” he exhales, rubbing the back of his neck and peering down at Jamie as a distraction. 

The scratch of your chair interrupts his gaze as you sigh and move around the table behind his chair, grabbing the comb in the process. 

You pull his shoulders back firmly, making him sit straight (as much as he could with Jamie on his lap). Small hands covered his ears, gently tipping his head forward. You raked your fingers from his scalp to his curly tips, only using the comb for tougher knots. His hair was surprisingly in good condition, the rich brown curls felt silky through your handle and became fluffy as you brushed through the mane.

“M’gonna do somethin’ different,” you tell him already separating his hair into three sections, “if I put it in a bun, she’ll jus’ pull it out again.”

He could only nod at your words, almost wanting to sigh from your touch. Your fingers wove deftly through his curls creating two french plaits on either side of his head and a tight bun in the middle. 

Harry closed his eyes, not noticing Jamie had scampered off of his lap as he was too distracted by the soothing rub of your fingers on his scalp. He had not expected for you to be so gentle, and if he was honest with himself, he hadn’t really prepared himself  for your touch that burned across the skin of his neck, forehead, and temples. 

He moaned a bit as you tugged too roughly at a part, and his filthy mind found himself imagining the way you’d jerk his hair when he’d have you seething under him. He shook his head slightly at that, savouring the feel of your fingers across his scalp. 

“All done,” you declare softly, patting his shoulders and waking him up from his  musings.

Harry opened his eyes at a slow pace, narrowing his eyes at the light and finding you sitting at your previous spot, nose back in your book. He ran his hands over his hair, stroking the two braids you wove in his curls. 

“Thank you.” Harry breathes out, not sarcastically, but genuinely grateful as a slight flutter forms in his stomach from the intimate moment. 

“I can do the same tomorrow if you let me study now,” you mutter into your book, flipping a page and scribbling some notes.

“I’d like that,” he answers gently.

At the doorway, three disbelieving faces peered into the room, wondering what on earth the young woman was doing that they were not to receive such honour.

It’s just past midnight now, the fourth night into the reunion, and Harry feels like a thirteen year old boy meeting his crush at the back of the school. He nervously plays with the rings on his fingers as he waits for you outside your shared room with Anne and his other aunties. It had been practically routine for the two of you to meet up in the corridor after everyone had gone to sleep. Granted he was the one forcing you out of bed, sending texts like “my windows are stuck” or “there’s a spider in my room”. He knows it’s a piss poor excuse to get to see you, but he swears he sleeps better whenever you’d give him a tender hug and a kiss on his cheek after your long midnight talks.  

The creak of the door wakes him from his reverie, and he smiles as he takes in your sleepy state. You were in your pajamas of course, an adorable wonder woman nightgown that grazed the top of your knees. If he wasn’t so enamoured by your small frown and pouty lips, he would have noticed the way the gown had hugged your every contour.  The fluffy white slippers you wore shuffled towards him as you rubbed your eyes and tilted your head to inspect him.

“What is it now?” You grumbled in a low voice, blinking a few times from the bright light. Once your tired eyes had finally adjusted, you noticed he still sported his signature black jeans and button up he had worn earlier in the day. You shifted your gaze to his eyes that seemed to glisten beautifully under the soft glow of the lights.

“Well,” he smirked, his heart jumping slightly at your gaze, “m’doin’ my laundry n’ I need help sortin’ it.” He flashed you a pearly white grin as he held his hand out for you in anticipation. You debated going back to bed and ignoring his plea, but he was asking so kindly, and you quite liked how he had been asking you for help all these nights, just to get a few moments alone.

You scowled at him slightly despite the small curve that tugged at your lips, and you melted your small hand into his hold. His thumb immediately rubbing your skin in a soothing pattern as he pulled you into his embrace to place a soft kiss to your forehead (he really couldn’t help himself around you).

You whine a little as he guides you down the staircase towards the laundry room.  He stops in front of the machines and you rest your head on his shoulder from behind as you struggle to stay awake. He was deliciously warm and he smelt like home baked cookies on a Sunday morning.

“Are yeh tha’ tired love?” He implored, genuinely concerned as you were normally perky when he’d see you at this time of the night. You mumbled a few words into his shoulder before lifting your head to meet his gaze.

“Think it was the wine,” you tell him a sweet smile as you widen your eyes a tad to force your body awake. “Jus’ need to wake myself up.”

You went to rub your eyes when suddenly warm hands wrapped at the base of your legs and lifted you swiftly onto the washing machine, knocking your slippers off of your feet. “Harry!”

You were at eye level with him now when he had pulled back. A playful smirk decorated his lips as you instantly felt more alert from the surprise and the coolness of the metal. Your hands rested on his shoulders still, and he suppresses a shudder from the skin to skin contact. “You little shi— ”

“Swear at me n’ I’ll tell!” interrupted Harry with an impish grin, all of your favourite dimples in display.

You swallowed your words, your mouth agape. “Wait,” you shake your head as the words properly processed through your brain. “What?”

Harry joins you in your giggles, pinching the side of your hips as he moved away from your embrace to pick up his laundry bag and place it beside your small frame.

“I don’t know,” he chuckles lightly, enjoying the ring of your laughter that echoed through the air. “S’one thirty n’ I’ve lost all sense of a filter in meh.”

Although his claim seemed plausible, he still wonders if he’ll be able to squeeze the secret words out of his heart to you and confide in his deep emotions.  

⭐

It’s around the third load when his wallet lands with a thump unto the machine beside you. It had fallen from the black jeans Harry was sporting for the day. He insisted on stripping it off in front of you, despite the faint blush on your cheeks, so you could pop them quickly into the last load. He had run off then, with a kiss to your cheek and a promise to return with a pair of sweats to cover the boxers he now wore.

You picked up the wallet with delicate fingers, setting his jeans aside for a moment. The wallet was quite quaint for its time and you noticed the delicate imprints that had left it forever tainted in the leather. It was rather a simple wallet and yet the different shades of brown gave it an impressionable personality.  

“Just like Harry,” you thought delicately.

A small red card peeked out of the wallet, and your curious fingers pulled at its release. You recognized the design from somewhere, and the idea danced on the tip of your tongue until you slowly turned it over to see your handwriting gorged on its side. Your stomach dropped and your hand immediately traced the engraved prints as the knowledge of Harry carrying it around all this time settled in your thoughts.

The pitter-patter of feet that entered the room had no influence on waking you from your gaze. Harry frowned when he walked in, startled from the eerie silence despite the low hum of the machines. He found you still sitting quietly on the washer with your head dipped towards your knees and your hair that shielded your face in a curtain like manner. His eyes shifted across your body as he spotted the red card that contrasted greatly against the skin of your hand.

His breath hitched at the sight and his frame stiffened as he realized what you had found, or rather the intimacy behind it. He was utterly vulnerable from your discovery. He didn’t want to move. Scared he’d do or say anything that would send you running for the hills. If it wasn’t for the single tear he witnessed dropping from your damp eyes and unto the plastic of the card, he swore he would’ve stayed as still as a statue.

“Love?” he croaked, taking a small step towards your timid frame.

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t breathe. A rush of emotion coursed through you in waves and you bite your lip to stop the tear that surprised you as it slipped down your cheek. Harry was a sentimental man, you knew that of course. But this … this was more than just a card. It was the permanency of him saving it in his pocket for so long that had baffled you. You were but a mere acquaintance to him when you had left it along with the bouquet of flowers, so why would he save it since then if your friendship had only just begun? Unless ...

A deep raspy voice had reminded you that you were not alone, and you shook your head in response, as if demanding him to leave you to your thoughts. A timid whisper escaped your lips and Harry all but rushed to your side to be with you.

Warm arms hesitantly wrapped around your body, gaining more confidence when you rested your forehead on the skin of his chest. Harry’s hand trailed his hand on your back, soothing you into a calm state. His cheek pressed on the side of your head as he swayed slightly from side to side, squeezing you as tightly as he possible could.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that. Your mind was in frenzy, and you had realized half way through that Harry was whispering words in your ear in an attempt to soothe you.

“…..that day was special for me, pet. I was in a rut … really bad one … m’voice was tired, n’ I was upset n’ then yeh came to visit me … second time yeh met me ... bu’ it was like yeh knew, like yeh knew I wasn’t myself … when I found those precious flowers … swear m’heart was gonna burst … Christ, you hadn’t even told meh, did yeh? Yeh never once mentioned what yeh did…”

He was babbling, of course, his heart was leaking out of his chest now and the pounding in his ears or the sharp intake of his breathes did not carry enough power to stop him. The nerves were rushing through his body until he felt a pair of shaky lips pamper his chest in a series of kisses. He pulled back slightly now, lowering his head and cradling his hands on your cheek to lift your gaze.

You refused to open your eyes as you recited the words in your head, words that you’ve wanted to tell him with a heavy heart. But before you could, you felt the faintest of kisses just below your eye and you shuddered from his gentle nature. The soft lips had trailed around your face in sequence as Harry mumbled a confession between each kiss.

“Yeh mean so much to me...”

“...It was you”

“Christ it was always you...”

And then he rested his forehead on yours and rubbed his thumb on the curve of your cheekbones. His breath fanned over your lips as you finally opened your eyes.

It was raw – a raw emotion that penetrated from his emerald eyes and into yours so effortlessly.

“Kiss me,” you almost begged.

Harry could not have declined even if he wanted to.

He pressed his raspberry lips to yours, once, twice, then a third time, all in quick succession, as if he would forget the taste of your lips that molded passionately against his. It was a desperate kiss that seized his vulnerable reveal as you raked your teeth on his bottom lip making him groan. Your legs wrapped around his waist to leave no space between the two of you.

Dear god, he couldn’t stop. He knew what you tasted like and he wanted more, so much more. He devoured your lips with his and you let him kiss you with an inch of suffocation. You wove your hands in his hair, pulling out the half-bun you had made for him the other day and raked your trembling fingers through his soft curls. You returned his hungry kisses with amorous ones of your own until you reluctantly pulled away from the burning of your lungs.

Harry leaned down, resting his forehead against yours as your heavy breaths mingled in the air. You watched breathlessly as his eyes studied yours with a silent intensity. There was a heat in his eyes that made your hip press a little harder over his as the thought of him naked, covered in sweat trailed through your mind.

You bite your lip as the thought stole your breath and Harry’s thumb grasped your lips to pull them apart in retaliation.

“Wish yeh wouldn’t do that,” he murmured. “Lips are far too pretty get mauled by y’teeth.”

He kissed you again, softer this time, savouring the whine that fell from your lips when he pulled away too quickly. Once you left him with a soft one of your own, you pulled back, cradling his face in your small hands as his own now rested on the curve of your hips. Your finger poked at the dimple that had now popped on his face from the grin he sported. Your hands and eyes trailed down to his upper body and you chuckled, pulling lightly on the thin hair on his chest.

“Seems like you’re pretty … hairy.” His nose crinkled and he snorted to match your soft giggles, wondering how on earth he managed to find a gal like you.

⭐

You were just aboutdone your chapter when you heard a low grumble resonate in your right ear as a lean tattooed arm carelessly wraps itself around your stomach knocking the book slightly that was secured on your lap.

“Son of a bi—” Yourharmful idiom halts at the cold nose that sinks deeper into your neck.

You peer down athim, chest rising and falling steadily, eyes closed, as his usual dimples aretucked away from his puckered lips. You swear this boy will be the end of youfrom how positively adorable he was. I mean, how dare he interrupt yourstudying with grabby hands and an inkling for a cuddle? You tried to be angrywith him (as it was your default emotion whenever he was like this), for if youever actually gave in to the flutter in your stomach, you’d be a goner forsure. 

This whole reunionwas actually quite frustrating to say the least. It was borderline torture towatch him play with little Jamie all day, sparking fantasies of him andyou parenting a child of your own. And just about everyone gave you subtlehints about the two of you. His aunt practically gave you a speech aboutHarry’s ideal woman, a picture perfect description of the qualities you had(coincidentally) possessed. You should have been flattered, but it justseemed so cruel to daydream about stuff like that. Because as much as youlike to fantasize about being Harry’s one and only, you understood the world hethrives in – a grandiose one with exhilarating lifestyles of fame and beauty. 

You’ve always enjoyed being the person he’d go to when he’d want a break fromit all, but sometimes you wondered what it would be like to reassure him with a soft kiss to his lips instead of one to his cheek. Granted, you were never a jealous person, but it wasonly natural for the green eyed monster to surface as you imagine the luckywoman who would be pampered by Harry’s gentle heart.

But maybe, justmaybe, you can indulge yourself just this once. 

Your head carefully dropped tothe curly one on your shoulder, at the same time closing your book and movingit promptly to the side. You had no idea what to do with your now empty hands,contemplating their placement on the arm hooked around your stomach. Aware youwere taking huge liberties, you wrapped your right arm around his strongshoulders pulling him closer and tugging your feet in under you as you restedyour crunched knees on his lap. You settled yourself, wriggling a bitinto a comfortable position. 

By now, his head moved slightly from your shoulderto the skin of your collarbone, and you could feel his steady breathing as youembraced his warmth. He smelt deliciously good too, there was biologybehind that (with pheromones and all), but that had not stopped you fromdigging your nose in his hair as you took a deep breath. A soft whine came fromhim as his left arm moved around your back and your head snapped up.

He was awake!

You lowered yourgaze to him, but he grumbled and almost pouted. You sighed in content; he wasonly reacting to your warmth. Harry quietened finally as you began to doze offfrom his steady breathing.

“Only for a couple of minutes,” you thought, “thenI’ll get back to studying and he wouldn’t know a thing.”

⭐                                                  

Gemma was justabout done with Jamie now. She tried her best to get her into a deep slumber,but the child was restless, fidgeting in her arms and whining into her neck.Gemma padded inside the house then, carrying Jamie to her crib before sheskidded into a halt when she saw her brother and her friend having a bit of a catnap on the couch. 

Youwere both cocooned towards each other, your right arm wound around hisshoulder, the other resting on his right arm that had a strong grip on yourupper thigh which had been pulled further onto his lap. Harry’s face was hiddenbehind his hair as his left cheek rested on your chest, your small frame, tinyenough for his left hand to wrap around your back and reach around to the skinof your stomach.

“He always liked being the littlespoon,” Gemma thought to herself, fondly gazing at the sight. Shecontemplated on waking you both, but Jamie had an idea off her own as shescrambled out of her arms suddenly and dashed towards the sleeping Harry. “Ay,come back here!” she harshly whispered, following after the giggling child.

Your right cheekwas pressing oh so comfortably on the couch when a sudden sharp jab to your jawcaused your teeth to chatter roughly at the impact. Your eyes snapped opensearching for the perpetrator as you groan and grumble from distress. 

“Ow,” youmoaned, finding Harry (his hair sticking up in random order) sitting up asalert ever, trying his best to settle little Jamie on his chest as she yawnedfrom exhaustion.  

You grumbled loudly this time gaining his attention as your eyessquinted angrily at Harry mentally sending “youhit me ya jackass” with your stare. Harry took in your sleepy state, eyes puffy fromthe rude awakening, your face still burrowed into the cushion. Thoughts ofHarry kissing away your pouty lip and furrowed brows struck lightening throughhis body as he relished in your adorable frown. 

“Fook I’m sorry love, c‘mere.”He murmured slouching on the couch next to you and shifting Jamie’s head fromhis left shoulder to his right so he could get a better look at you.

You hissed as hebrought his hand to your jaw, moaning about his clumsy nature. “Shh, would yeh?Wanna make sure s’not broken.”

You snorted as yourhands went to rub the sleep from your eyes, “It’s not,” you confirmed, “if mytemporomandibular joint was dislocated I wouldn’t be able to talk right now.”Harry nodded at your complex words, knowing full well it wasn’t broken. He was just itching to feel your smooth skin on his fingertips. 

He glanced from hisinspection on your chin to your eyes, noticing how they fluttered shut due tohis touch, but before he could wipe the strand that had fallen onto your cheek;he was interrupted by his sister offering him a bag of ice with a knowing smirkbefore she walked off to quiet the guests that have now entered the house from thebackyard.  

And in the span of a few seconds, Harry’s intimate moment with you had been ruined as the rest of his familyjoined the both of you in the living room. You were awake then, gingerlyholding the ice pack on your chin as you chatted about recipes with hisrelatives. 

“Y/N,” he rasps quietly to you leaning into your shoulder a tad,“m’really glad yeh came.”

His confessioncaught you off guard, not from his words, but from a hidden emotion behind itthat you couldn’t quite put your finger on. His eyes were gleaming as it gazedinto yours, and because you’ve turned your head towards him you were nearlynose to nose in your proximity. Your face flushed and there was a stir in yourbelly, but you kept your composure and petted the hand that was squeezing yourlower thigh. 

“Me too,” you beamed, “even if your family is a little much attimes,” you chuckled quietly with him.

“Hmm, nothin’. Just thinkin,” you replied.

Harry pulled your hands to his mouth, kissing it ever so gently. “Yeh thinkin’ about me, love?” he chuckled, lips slightly tingling your skin.

“Always,” you mumbled, turning into his embrace to place a soft peck to his swallow tattoo. His hands soothingly rubbed your back as you took in his musky scent. The post-sex/sleep smell filled your nostrils and if it wasn’t for you being so exhausted, you would have bitten his neck in protest. “You smell so good, baby.” 

Harry’s eyebrows raised at the rare term of endearment. You’ve always hated using “baby” as a pet name, thinking “love” or “H” was much better than referring to him as an infant.

“What’s gotten in to yeh?” he chuckled, pulling back a little to look down at you. You mumbled incoherent words in his neck before he squeezed your waist to get you to repeat the, “you”, that fell from your lips. He chose not reveal the sexual innuendo in your confession, but instead to revel in your sudden romantic mood. Harry wasn’t used to you being so affectionate, you’d always slap his chest whenever he’d say or do anything remotely cheesy. You put up with him anyway, always giving him a kiss to silence his musings.

“I’m just happy, Harry,” you smiled, raising your head to look at your handsome man, kissing the dimples that developed on his face.

“Oi, you missed a spot,” he reckoned, puckering his lips as best as he could. You raised your toes to leave a small peck, but his hand moved to your cheek, deepening the kiss. His breath fanned your face as you moved your arms around his neck, playing with the soft curls. He moaned softly, intoxicated by your touch, and pulled back, resting his forehead on yours. “Hmm, I love me a cuddly Y/N in the mornin’” he sighed, pausing to relish in the moment.

Your eyes were shifting between his, bouncing the image of the loveliest shade of green. His eyes always reminded you of a leprechaun somehow. In your mind, the pangs of gold that shaped his pupil portrayed a pot of gold ... you realise it wasn’t the best comparison, but it fit, in a way, he was your lucky charm.

“I never thought I would be this happy, you know?” Harry hummed at your words in agreement. “Ever since I was young, I used to run outside when there was a huge storm. And it was nice because everything seemed to wash away ... like it sounds a little sad, but I used to stand there and just cry my heart out.”

Harry listened attentively; drumming his fingers on your neck as you turned your head to look outside. “It was weird, I guess, I always had something to be sad about.”

“N’what about now?” he asked softly after a lengthy pause. You shook your head, resting your eyes back on his. You placed your hand on his cheek and as a reflex he leaned into your fingers.

“I’m happy,” you confirmed, emotions spilling from your voice. “I don’t need to run in the rain anymore.”

Your words had struck a cord through his body. He really did love you and the fact that you were as happy as him made him rejoice in your confession. “Well, how ‘bout we change the tradition a little, hmm?”

Before you could move away, Harry suddenly picked you up by your legs placing you (not so gently) over his shoulder as he ran deep into the downfall. His deep chuckles and an extraordinary scream from you echoed as you two spun around, completely soaked by the water.