#finelineera

  July 2018

  Harry’s getting ready for the Dunkirk premiere in his London flat, where Lou Teasdale and Harry Lambert made their HQ. When he’s finally done, he waits for Olivia. He had Harry design a custom gown specially for her, he hasn’t seen it yet so expectations are high.

  First come the footsteps, heels clicking against the wooden floor. His eyes shoot up to the hallway and there she is. A deep red velvet gown contrasts with the clear pattern of the walls, bodice hugging her chest tightly as the skirt leaves a gap through which her leg shows. Her dark skin glistens on the ceiling lights, only her jewels shine brighter: a Cartier choker and bracelet, nothing more. Harry can’t stop that silly grin from showing, it’s inevitable.

“I know, I look so good!” she teases and they all laugh at her unbridled pride. “Really, I look like a skanky witch!”

“That’s what I was channeling for the dress” Lambert comments through his giggles.

“You can’t even tell I gave birth like... few months ago”

  Harry can tell she’s still a bit insecure about her body but if not she looks even more gorgeous. The baby didn’t take as much of a toll on her as she thought it would. She did gain weight but she was way too skinny to begin with so if anything she looks an average size. Right now, little Rio is spending some quality time with her nana and Harry has to hold himself as to not keeping calling to check on her. Last time he checked, she was sleeping soundly and eating everything her crazy aunt Gemma was preparing.

“You look amazing” Harry hugs her waist and pecks her cheek, holding her possessively. Right on time, Jeff walks through the front door.

“The car is waiting outside, is everybody ready?”

“Yes, coming in a minute, go ahead” Olivia hurries to pick her bag and give Lou a warm and thankful hug.

  After all the goodbyes are over, Harry rests a hand on her exposed back and leads her out, making sure she’s always at arm’s length. When they’re in the elevator, she adjusts her braids in front of the mirror and, on the corner of her eye, notices he’s staring. Instead of messing with him she just winks at his reflection.

  He loves it, the whole outfit, but the dress makes him a bit uncomfortable. He can see it already, all those pretty young actors running their hands on her bare arms and hugging her bare back, their indiscreet glances towards her cleavage. Harry clenches his fist involuntarily. Calmness resurfaces naturally, but then he remembers Fionn.

  Fionn Whitehead made very clear during the shootings of “Dunkirk” that he had eyes for Olivia. By that time they were not married yet but they were in a good moment, so she came over during her weekends off just to visit him and get to know a bit of France. It was a bit of a strike to his ego to know Fionn had the hots for her, not only because of the threat he supposedly was but because Harry also had the hots for him – and no shame of it. Now they’re about to meet again, and Oli looks impossible not to look.

“Earth to Harry” she waves at him when they arrive at the parking lot, “you okay?”

“Sure, love” he holds her hand and brings the back of it to his lips.

“How’s Rio? Everything alright?”

“Right as rain, mum’s loving it” he chuckles.

“I miss my baby” she pouts playfully and he mimics her, like two children mocking each other.

“We’ll pick her up first thing in the morning, until then we got a Christopher Nolan premiere, can you believe?”

“Still trying to process that... look, if I try to grab Cillian Murphy, please stop me”

“I promise I won’t” he mocks and she chuckles fondly. He does know her so well.

  Harry rushes to greet the chauffeur with a handshake and open the door to Olivia, helping her inside. He then walks to the other side of the car, adjusting his fist cuffs before sitting beside her.  She holds the excess of fabric so he can snuggle in and wrap an arm around her shoulders. The way she crosses her legs makes her knees and calf slip through a gap in the skirt, she doesn’t mind it but he does. It’s impossible not to stare in awe at how sexy she looks in this dress. When the soft material slips, it creeps to reveal her thigh, soft against the velvet like a jewel inside its box. It’s getting harder to focus elsewhere, so he gently rests his hand on her exposed knee making her turn.

“You look amazing in that dress” he whispers on her ear, biting just a bit of it. She chuckles darkly  and gets more comfortable against his side, feeling the heat in the car rise instantly as he nuzzles the side of her neck. “Can’t wait to get it off-“

“You two, behave!” Jeff takes the front seat of the car and they part slightly, finally taking the streets.

Olivia clears her throat. “So, what’s the movie about again?”

“It’s about the evacuation of Dunkirk beach, when these small civilian ships went to rescue the English soldiers” he briefly explains.

“Why did they have to be rescued?”

“Because the Germans invaded France and surrounded them”

“Ok, but why the civilians? Where was the navy?” she shakes her head confusedly and he giggles.

“I thought you were good in history”

She takes a bit of distance and smugly claims: “I am, I know my history, thank you very much”

“Alright, fair enough” he quits arguing, knowing better than to step on her national pride.

“Who do you play in the movie?”

“He can’t disclaim that” Jeff interrupts and they turn their eyes to him.

“I think I can disclaim that to my wife” Harry shrugs in disbelief.

“No, that’d break the contract, you can’t disclaim that” he sticks a finger in front of his nose. “Don’t make me get you out of trouble”

“Alright, grandpa” he mocks and turns back to Oli who grins amusedly.

 They arrive at the red carpet and leave the fancy car, Harry once more walking around adjusting his suit before opening the door for her and helping her out. The cameras follow them from their first step, capturing how he keeps a hand on her back at every move, making sure he’s the only one to touch her.

“If you get tired of the pictures, let me know” he says in her ear before laying a small kiss on her cheekbone.

“It’s ok, Haz” she smiles and follows him to the first step of the red carpet: the fans. His fans are not exactly fond of her, but she understands that nobody will ever be worthy of their idol so she doesn’t take it personally. But she also knows some of his fanbase follows her musical career as well and appreciate it, so is no surprise when they ask for pictures with her.

  They go forward on the red carpet path paying attention to who calls their names, she reaches the end sooner than he, as she has less demands, and greets some of Harry’s co-stars.

“Hey Oli, remember me?” a young man with dark hair and fancy suit asks.

“Fionn, right?” she makes a fake guessing antic. She knows precisely who he is, as she hardly forgets someone so pretty and so devastatingly charming. They met when she visited the set in France, watching him from a distance and low-key hitting on him. She assumed Harry didn’t mind, after all he also had a huge crush on his co-star.

“Yes” he smiles and hugs her, pulling away a bit to chat but she holds his hand in a friendly manner.

“Sorry, you guys all look so alike, I’m still trying to figure it out” they laugh. From a distance, Harry divides his attention between the fans and their cameras, and Fionn placing a hand on Olivia’s bare back, leading her away to meet the cast.

  When she meets Cillian Murphy, it’s hard to tell who’s more excited: Oli for meeting her idol or Cillian for meeting such a gorgeous woman. Harry thought he would enjoy the scene but it couldn’t be more of the contrary. When they part, he smiles and lays an earnest kiss on the back of her hand. Something inside him immediately ticks and he doesn’t like it. He rushes through the last pictures and autographs, keeping track of her hugging and laughing with the guys. He tries not to get cranky and maintain a soft smile, but it’s getting under his skin. When Fionn leans to whisper something in her ear, hands stroking her waist over the velvet and pulling her close, it’s the last drop.

  Harry excuses himself and skips a whole section of fans to make his way to Olivia, putting on a mask of civility but internally burning Fionn with his eyes. He first takes Oli’s hand and kisses her forehead, then stares down at his co-stars, catching one of them staring down her cleavage.

“How you doing chap?” Harry offers a hand for him to shake and dragging his eyes away from her.

“Harry” he nods, shaking his hand.

“Think you all know my wife, I need to steal her for a moment” he tugs on her hand and urges her to follow.

“Nice to meet you, guys!” They get in the queue for the photographs and before they even stand in front of the cameras, he wraps an arm around her possessively. “Why are you jealous?” she whispers between them.

“I’m not jealous...?” he clumsily denies.

“You just used the W word like a dominant alpha male” she smiles vaguely amused while he chuckles embarrassedly. “I know you like the back of my hand, Edwards”

“So do I, Maria” she makes a mock betrayed face but laughs all along. “Let’s never use middle names again, please”

“Let'sr... but really, Haz, what’s under your skin? You’re acting weird”

He sighs, knowing better than to keep it inside. “I don’t like the way he’s touching you”

She turns her head to the cast gathering. “Who? Fionn? I thought you liked Fionn” she whispers between them, “like... really liked Fionn... what’s the word for that? When you got the hots for someone?”

“Fancy?”

“Yeah”

“Alright, I might fancy Fionn, but I fancy you even more and I don’t like it when he gets familiar” he explains candidly, making sure they’re the only ones listening to the conversation.

“What if I like it?”

He chuckles, not expecting that answer – although he should. “Then let me know” he smirks.

“Harry, you’re up” Jeff indicates, guiding both of them to the designated spot.

  He poses in a relaxed manner, holding her close against his side like a proud peacock showing off his mate. In his mind, there’s hardly any woman as stunning as her in the red carpet, so when the cameras flash in their direction, he knows she’s glowing. He can’t help but look at her in awe and happily let the cameras capture every ounce of love pouring down his eyes as she smiles confidently to the photographers.

“Everything ok?” he asks discreetly.

“My irises are burning” she sings the last word and he chuckles, pulling her away from the blinking lights and to the movie theater’s doors where the last pictures are supposed to be taken. “Harry, where are you!? Gah, I can’t see anything!” she plays, blinking mockingly.

He laughs and pulls her against his back, her makeup staining his dark suit but they don’t mind. “Hold on, love” she envelops him by the waist, not so shy when it comes to public displays of affection. Holding on to his back, she tries to mimic his steps like a child until they have to pose again. “Last one, I promise”

  They take few last pictures with her snuggling his side and him holding her embrace, both smiling wide and proud for the world to see. When they’re done, Fionn shows up again, straightening his front buttons like a classy gentleman.

“You doing any interviews now?” he asks Harry.

“Yeah, just a couple ones” he replies.

“‘Right, I’ll walk in and take a seat. I can take Oli if you want” for a moment, Harry’s brain almost fires a violent chain reaction, but she leans a hand discreetly on his chest to calm him down.

“I can take myself, thank you very much, but I’ll take the company” she nods charismatically then turns to give jealous-boy some attention. “I’ll wait inside, be nice!”

“I’m always nice” he steals a kiss from her lips and grins smugly, watching her take Fionn’s arm and walk inside the movie theater.  

  The movie is a tragically beautiful tale of patriotism and hope, and despite belonging to a completely different culture, Olivia gives credit to the pride and heroism of the British people. She stands up to clap at the end, turning to praise all the actors and specially Harry, whose narcissistic side doesn’t mind being pandered to. After the screening, the crew serves a flute of champagne for the guests as Chris Nolan makes a grand toast, extending the reception for a couple more hours of refined chattering.

“Fionn!” Harry laces the man’s shoulders, pressing him in a strangely intimate way. “You were bloody brilliant”

“You’re drunk” he laughs, feeling his alcoholic breath fan across his face.

“I’m not, I’m just a bit cheery. Listen, they’re almost wrapping up, do you wanna come over to my place?”

“Sure, I mean... is Oli okay with it?” he stutters a bit. Fionn is very fond of the couple, and they’ve been really friendly so far, he would dedicate a couple more hours of his life to spend some time with them.

“Of course”

“Alright then, but I can’t stay long, I’ve got a flight in the morning”

“We’ll just get some wine, it won’t take long. I’ll just say goodbye to everyone”

  The three of them are thrown over the back seat of a limousine, a bit more giggly than usual but still able to hold a conversation. They struggle to get to the door and unlock it but eventually they make it and get comfortable on the living room. Olivia lays over the black fabric of the sofa, laughing at some witty commentary Fionn just made while Harry pulls her shoes off. He knows she’s really weak when it comes to alcohol, it’s better to just leave her light and jolly on the living room than to make her break things in the kitchen.

“Thanks sweetheart” she smiles endearingly to Harry as he turns to reach the kitchen and serve them some appetizers.

“Is he some kind of slave?” Fionn mocks, undressing his suit’s jacket.

“Sure, he’s my white slave. It’s historical justice” she fires back, sitting up straight to look at him. “You can sit down”

“I should help Harry in the kitchen”

“Nonsense, you’re our guest” she holds him and pulls him by the hand to sit beside her, while she supports her arm on the backboard and turns her body towards him.

“I don’t know, I think he’s mad at me or something. Don’t you think he’s acting weird?”

“I’ll tell you a secret” she leans very close to his ear. “He’s jealous”

“Why would he be jealous?” he asks with a curious grin.

Her dozy eyes look at him amusedly as she bites her bottom lip, like a child boasting about something. “He doesn’t like other men touching me”

“That’s silly”

“I know, but he can’t help it. He just needs to learn how to share...” his words die on his throat as his drunken brain works through the meaning of her words. Now he’s excited to know how this night is going to end.

Finally Harry walks in with a plate of snacks and three glasses. Fionn attempts to put some distance between him and Oli, but she holds him back with a playful look. “Here we go, I’ll get some wine. Do you like rosé, Fionn?”

“Uh- sure”

“Great, it’s all we’ve got” Harry reaches the nearby wine rack, turning back to the two of them in the sofa. “Oli doesn’t like red wine, so it’s either that or white”

“I don’t mind, mate” he helps himself with a handful of nuts while Harry pours the rosé in their glasses.

“Shall we make a toast?” Olivia gets up and takes her glass, raising it to both the men. “Here’s to your brilliant performances and to the beautiful mastermind of Christopher Nolan”

“I wanna raise a toast” Fionn interrupts, “to the two of you, one of the loveliest couples I’ve ever met. Cheers guys”

“Cheers mate” they clink their glasses and down the contents in few sips, falling back on the couch right after. The way they seat has Oli in the middle, her back thrown over Harry’s chest and Fionn right beside her.

“Did you like the premiere?” he asks.

“I did, it was really fancy... I would’ve enjoyed more if Harry wasn’t so moody”

“I’m not moody” he defends himself, making a nonsensical antic to Fionn.

“I can’t greet a couple of handsome young men that you immediately put on a pout”

“One of these young men was staring at your tits”

“Who was it?” the gossipy bitch inside Fionn begs to know.

“Jack, that creepy pervert”

“Don’t be so harsh on him, he just went through puberty” Harry laughs, “he’s still nervous around pretty girls”

“Why thank you Fionn” she regards his implicit compliment.

“My pleasure, Oli” he shoots her a charming grin and hold her eyes for ransom, making the air heavy with tension.

“Get a room, you two” they laugh at Harry’s taunting until Olivia decides to spice up the game.

“Why a room” she crawls to straddle Fionn’s lap, keeping a respectful distance in a disrespectful position. “You know I like it better in the sofa”

“Is that so?” Fionn raises a brow, deciding to tag along. Instead of breaking the act in on itself, Harry decides to push it as far as it goes and flex the stiff attitude that bugged him all afternoon.

“Go on then, don’t mind me” he pours some rosé in his glass before returning to a comfortable position in his seat.

  Olivia smirks at him before looking down at Fionn, brushing her lips against his teasingly, making him reach up for her, only then does she concede for theirs lips to touch. It starts like an innocent kiss, but then she slowly runs her hips up and down Fionn’s, testing his restrained control. Harry bites the inside of his cheek, determined not to be consumed by jealousy but entertained by his cheeky wife’s little game, even as Fionn runs his hands over her velvet covered ass. She pull his hair down, exposing his neck to her tender sensual kisses and Fionn basks in her affection, all worries about taking it too far are gone from his mind as long as she takes the first steps. She runs her lips over his jaw, smudging it with lipstick until she finds his mouth again and kisses it through a grin, she’s loving it. But it can get better.

Still straddling Fionn, she turns to Harry with a tempting smirk. “You’re just gonna watch?”

“If you insist” he gets up, leaving his suit jacket on the sofa’s armrest. He stands behind Olivia, gathering her braids and resting them over a shoulder, exposing the other one for him. He lets her dress strip slide down her arm, grasping her waist as his lips lay waste to her shoulder and neck, leaving little love bites on her dark skin. Fionn makes himself useful leaning over her and running his lips over the whole extent of her cleavage, savoring the salty taste of her skin comparing to the bittersweetness of her wine flavored lips.

  At some point, Fionn nuzzles in Harry’s cheek and he presses a kiss to it, giving Harry the queue he was waiting for. He licks Fionn’s lips unapologetically before they share a steamy kiss against the shell of Oli’s ear. She smiles to herself, proud of accomplishing a little treat for herself and also for her husband, whom she knows takes great pleasure in the company of both men and women. They never thought their marriage should be restrictive, little games like this just prove the point.

“This is what happens when you share, Styles” she laughs to herself and the men stop the kiss to join her.

“As usual you were right, love” he pecks her cheek, “now why don’t we take this to the bedroom?”

“Yeah, that’s better” Fionn agrees and supports Oli while she straddles out of him, walking towards the hallway in a nearby corner of the flat. Harry and Fionn look at each other with lust before following her and shutting the door.

“Before we start, a few rules” Harry walks to his bedside table while Fionn crawls over Oli on the bed. Before he can kiss her sweet lips again, a small pack hits his head. “If you’re gonna fuck my wife, wear a rubber”

“Such a drama queen” she chuckles at her theatrical life-long partner.

“Also- look at me” he cups Fionn’s jaw and pull his attention, “If anyone wants to stop, we all stop”

“Fine by me” he reaches and bites Harry’s lip teasingly. They both start to undress their formal buttons shirt, standing shirtless over a gasping Olivia who is still dressed in a fancy gown. Fionn leans over Oli and rolls her over to straddle him now without any concern for a respectful distance, so she unapologetically rubs her panties against his growing bulge, he shuts his eyes and sighs, imagining how her cunt would feel around him. Harry drops his pants to the floor, crawling on his boxers until he reaches the close of her dress, sliding down the zipper so the fabric pools on her waist revealing her round breasts. He cups them from behind and they fit perfectly in his hand, specially when he traps her nipples between his fingers making them hard as rock.

  Oli stands over the bed, letting the velvet slip to her feet before discarding it on the ground. On her absence, Harry reaches for Fionn, climbing him and ravishing his body from his chest up to his lips with tantalizing kisses and love bites. In return he cups his ass cheeks, reaching under the waistband to creep between them and sliding a slim finger in there, something Harry didn’t get in a long time. With his moaning consent, Fionn sticks said finger in his entrance, playing in and out as he cries in pleasure only with a small teasing, sparking his curiosity to explore his body as well as Olivia’s. For a moment she doesn’t participate, just sits on a bed corner pleasing herself at the sight of her gorgeous husband being finger fucked by a really handsome and charming man.

“Look at that” Fionn nods in her direction and Harry turns to look, finding his wife reaching inside her panties to touch herself away from them. “Fuck Harry, you’re wife is so hot” he whispers, turned on by her quiet moans.

“I know” he holds Fionn’s hand away for a moment just so he can pull Olivia closer, snatching her hand out of her pants and laying her on the duvet, joining her in a sandwich between her and Fionn, allowing him to tease his ass while he pays attention to his wife. Harry slides a finger inside her mouth and she sucks on it sensually, running the texture of her tongue against his salty skin before it leaves her lips with a pop. She makes herself more comfortable in his arms while he takes his slick fingers where her hand previously was to stroke her folds and flick the swollen nub between them. The sensation of her on his finger tips isn’t enough, he needs to taste her, but at the same time Fionn replaces his finger with the head of his cock, pressing its entrance on the difficult spot until the muscle relaxes and he buries his length inside Harry. “Mhmm fuck...”

The wave of pleasure that hits him distracts him from the finger work he was doing on her. “Hey, don’t stop” she whispers cupping his cheek. Still a bit dazed, he sticks two fingers inside her and do the best he can to please her, alternating between languid teasing strokes and fast hard stocks. Fionn thrusts mercilessly into Harry, holding up a thigh to get a better angle while he comes undone in his arms, but at one point he has to take a break, leaning across Harry to kiss Olivia. She smiles through the kiss, giving him those big brown lustful eyes before they shut in a spasm of pleasure. If he wasn’t so tucked inside Harry, he’d fuck her right now.

“Fuck, you’re so good” he whispers on the shell of his ear before thrusting hard and deep, wrenching a groan from him before returning to a faster pace. The quicker Fionn gets, the more Harry works his fingers in Olivia, to the point her walls clutch him throbbing in pleasure and she cries out one last time finally reaching the first orgasm of the night. Harry comes right after, pressing his head on her chest and moaning one long note of ecstasy while Fionn kisses his back and Olivia his lips. Fionn doesn’t want to cum inside Harry, so he pulls himself out and do so in his hand, looking down on the other two immersed in their embrace. He already pleased Harry enough, now he wants Olivia. Fionn crawls back in bed beside her, cupping her other cheek so she can face him. “May I?”

“Absolutely” she leans to kiss him while Harry stands to his elbows.

“Oi... you didn’t ask before you fucked me” he complains with a hint of mockery and Fionn clumsily breaks the kiss to answer.

“Sorry mate, I’ll ask next time” he smirks, pulling her panties down while staring at Harry. He reaches down to kiss her hip, throwing the piece of lace on the ground before placing himself between her thighs. Fionn can feel her cunt still throbbing from her previous orgasm, it won’t take much for her to cum again. He tries to look at her before he kisses her folds, but Harry covers his view as they make out right in front of him, so he carries on giving her one long teasing lick  savoring her sweetness, then flicking his tongue against her pulsing clit. She hums against Harry’s mouth, kissing him harder when Fionn traps the nub on his lips and suck on it, letting go with a plop. The soft pad of his tongue against her sensitive bundle of nerves is driving Oli insane, that and having Fionn trapped between her thighs. She’s about to cum for the second time when he keeps flicking on her, she’s so close, she can feel his warm mouth humming in pleasure as he tastes her, her hips twitch and her muscles tense, wanting to press him harder then physically possible. Harry notices her spurring and looks down at Fionn ravishing his wife. A spike of jealousy hits him as she comes undone beneath him, he wants to make her cry in pleasure like this, coming so hard she’s a bumbling mess after.

“You like that?” he asks while Fionn wipes her cum from his chin.

“Fuck yes” she gasps as he lays closer, making her sandwich between the two. Harry pulls him for a quick kiss, tasting his wife from another man’s lips is strangely sensual to him. But Fionn doesn’t indulge Harry for long, he has other things in mind regarding Olivia.

  Fionn runs his touch up her chest until he cups her jaw and kisses her lips teasingly, licking her bottom lip before sliding his tongue on her mouth. He rolls over parting her legs to better accommodate himself not breaking the kiss, then runs a finger between her crease feeling how wet she still is from his mouth. She feels so warm under his touch, so eager, he’s aching hard to fuck her ever since she walked in the red carpet in that sinful velvet dress, now that she’s under him legs wide spread, he’s already on edge. Harry helps Oli to lay her head on his shoulder as he watches the whole thing go down. Fionn reaches the silver pack and slides the rubber carefully before finally burying himself deep inside her throbbing cunt until his base hits her clit, and he has to keep the instinct of immediately bobbing his hips, just a bit of friction will end him. So instead he swirls his hips, taking just a bit of his length out before sliding back in languidly.

“Oh fuck... Fionn...” she whimpers at his tortuous delicious pace.

“You want more?” he thrusts harder causing her to gasp each time their hips collide. Where before she was wet now she’s dripping, so tight he even struggles to pull out, not on his wildest dreams did her pussy feel so fucking good. “You like that, huh? Finally a different cock to make you cum” she moans, feeling him pick up the pace and almost hit her tender spot. The anticipation for him to hit makes her toes curl, nonetheless his size feels incredible rubbing in and out of her, specially when he spreads her legs wider making him reach even deeper. He loses his pace for a moment, holding a knee under his arm and thrusting a little slower, giving her the chance to breath because she knows the moment he picks up that pace she’ll cum. “You feel so good, taking me cock like that, do you want more?” he thrusts harder and her orgasm starts to build, "you want more huh?” somehow he goes even faster, burying his entire length violently and clashing their hips with a dirty sound, but not as dirty as her gasps of pleasure, building up to a point when she clutches him even tighter and screams, her orgasm eminent.

“Right there... oh fuck! Yes! Right- oh!” she cries, the spasms taking her on a high that ends with an exhausted sigh and the unclenching of her cunt right after he also cums inside his rubber. “That was amazing” she struggles to say as he falls over her chest, stealing a kiss from her. The last thing he wants is to remove himself from her warm pussy, but then he notices Harry’s not so amused face.

  He can’t imagine how that must feel: having your best friend buried deep inside your wife, someone with whom you have so much experience and a love so intense you choose to spend your life together. He knows Harry is easily jealous, he also knows he’a overly indulgent to his wife, so of course he’d play a sex game just to entertain her – and take bit of enjoyment for himself as he did love being fucked on the ass. But maybe fucking her so hard was too much. Harry would never say so, again, doing his best to indulge his wife, but he wasn’t ok with that. So he pulls out and decides it’s time to go.

He climbs over Oli to kiss her delicious pump lips one last time. “You guys are amazing” he pants, leaning to kiss Harry as well, “I’ll never forget this”

“Neither will we” he replies.

“I better go now, I’ve got a flight to catch in the morning” he excuses, looking for the missing parts of his suit.

“So soon?” she asks sitting up.

“Yeah, I’m sorry guys”

“No problem man, I’ll take you to the door” Harry dresses a house robe and waits for Fionn to properly collect himself. He kisses Oli on the cheek to say goodbye and follows Harry out.

“You know we have a lot of interviews together this week?” Fionn comments to lighten the mood, although Harry doesn’t seem moody, on the contrary, he’s grinning.

“That’ll be interesting” he opens the door and hugs him goodbye.

“Thank you for that... I hope I didn’t overstep or anything-“

“You didn’t, you were great” Harry smiles and kisses the crook of his neck playfully. “Right, off you go now”

“See you around, Harold” he winks walking out the door and leaving the events of the night behind. When he walks inside the uber, he closes his eyes and let them all come crashing in with a boyish smile.

Olivia walks to the kitchen on her house robe, watching Harry close the door and walk up to her. She serves both of them a rosé glass with a tiny smirk creeping on her cheeks. “So... is he as good in the back as he is in the front?” he laughs at her spontaneous commentary, “Welcome to my TedTalk”

“You’re crazy” he hugs her back tightly, “crazy and deranged... and brilliant”

“Why thank you” she hands him a glass of rosé and they clink, no need to verbalize what they’re toasting before drinking the wine.

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 December 2016

  He calls her one more time. It beeps, beeps, beeps and it ends up on mail. It must be the tenth message he sends but he does so anyway.

“Hey love, it’s me again. We haven’t spoke since you went away and I hate this silence, if you don’t want to talk to me can I at least know why?” he begs to the cold phone, hunching over his knees with a hand holding back his hair. “I know I was an asshole, I’m so so sorry, but I want to talk. Can you please call me? Even if it’s just to shout at me and call me names? I love you”

  He wipes the corners of his eyes, not in shame, just to avoid his mates asking what’s going on. Harry leaves the waiting room and walks in the studio where Ryan and Mitch are tweaking his recording of Two Ghosts. The album is almost done, they only miss a couple more songs to close the set. As he sits beside Mitch, he notices his friend’s worried gaze as if he could hear his failed attempts through the acoustic protection.

“Nothing?” he asks.

“Just silence” Harry sighs and Mitch pats his leg in comfort.

“Why don’t you go to New York?”

“I don’t know if she’s there, she could be with her grandma in New Orleans or Rio, she could be in London, I wouldn’t know”

“She’s not answering my texts either” Mitch replies. It’s as if, overnight, Olivia vanished from the face of the Earth. “Not even Frank”

  He leaves the studio late and walks back to his hotel. A few fans stop him on the way, he’s not on the mood to be his usual cheerful self but he still obliges when they ask for pictures. One of them has a t-shirt with her album cover, when he looks up he’s almost speechless.

“You okay?” she asks, a mix of elation and awkwardness.

“Yeah, you just... remind me of someone”

“Olivia, right? I get that a lot” she laughs, “There was a time I copied her braids, people stopped me in the streets for pictures”

This time, he chuckles as well. Oli loves taking pictures, it appeals so much to her vanity it’s exhausting. She’s not a very sympathetic person when it comes to interacting with strangers, but she always made her fans an exception. “That’s crazy”

“Can you send her a picture of me? I’m a huge fan”

At her request his weak smile falters. He’d love to send her a picture but she won’t notice it, she won’t reply, she won’t care. “Of course”

He politely takes a picture with her and pretends to send it to Oli. “Thank you so much”

“Do you live nearby?”

“No, I’m staying at the Hilton, I’m actually from Mexico”

“So am I! I mean, staying at the Hilton, I’m quite British” she laughs at his clumsy excuse, “Do you want me to walk you back, maybe get a few drinks?”

“Sure!”

  He tried to forget her, he tried to drown away his sorrow and sleep with someone else to fix the problem but he failed pitifully. His drunken haziness only caused him to sob over someone, and looking at her likeness made it even worse. He wasn’t struggling for the lack of sex, that’d be easy to fix, he misses her entirely, body and soul. He misses her company, her weird insights, her particular taste for rom-coms and the strange foods she smuggles from her hometown. He misses her touch, the texture of her collarbones and the way her hair smells in the morning, he misses the stargazing and the way her eyes shine like a dark sky with a single star...

  When he wakes up the morning after, her twin fan is sleeping on his bed while he gets up from the couch. She’s dressed from head to toe, only her shoes are stored nicely in a corner. By the time, he’s already missed a fine amount of working hours in the studio. A text from Mitch begs him to stay at the hotel and try to work himself out, better than sniffle over his shoulder while he tries to work. He works his dizzy way to the bed and pokes the young woman.

“Oli... I-I mean...” he steps away, trying to recover her name somewhere in his drunken mind. “Luna?”

“Hm?” she rubs her eyes open.

“Hey” he strokes her arm clumsily, “Morning. I might need to leave in a few minutes, you’re a guest here right?”

“Oh, yes” she gets up in a stretch. “I’m so sorry”

“It’s alright, thank you for last night”

“It was nothing” she recalls him laying on her lap bawling his eyes out as she tries to comfort him the best she can. “I hope you figure yourself out”

“Thank you” he pulls her in for a friendly hug and walks her to the door.

  Now that he’s alone, he takes his phone again to no avail. She won’t answer, she won’t even listen to his voicemail. He then googles her name to search for recent news, the most recent one is about Frank’s new affair and his sister’s approval, the last one indicating her location is three months old, when she joined him in Jamaica. He checks her social media, Frank’s, all her former bandmate’s but when he least expects it, he finds a clue.

  Her friend Matty, who he hasn’t seen in months, posted a photo wearing one of Harry’s old t-shirts, a white one he wore to a Burberry fashion show. Without a second thought, he reaches out.

“‘ello? Who’s this?”

“Hey, it’s Harry, Harry Styles” he immediately regrets the call. It is a stupid idea, he shouldn’t be intruding.

“Oh, hey! Sorry, didn’t recognize your voice”

“I’m sorry... listen chap, I need to ask you something and you might find it weird but when was the last time you saw Olivia?”

He ponders for a moment, “She came by when her tour began last year, but we haven’t talked much ever since” Harry sighs in defeat, “But I saw Frank last weekend when I was in LA”

“Weird, I just saw a picture of you with a shirt just like mine-“

“It probably is, I got it from Frank” he shuts his eyes in realization. Of course, Frank is like a damn vampire, only he takes his peer’s clothes. “He stole a shirt from me, thought I’d do the same to him”

“Did he mention anything about Oli at all?”

“No, she said she’s just fine... but he was weird about it, I could tell” Matty confesses, always prizing his truthfulness.

“I see... cheers mate, sorry for the weird questions”

“No problem, let me know if you need anything”

  Another finished phone call, another silence. He hates the silence, all that’s left in silence are his troubled thoughts. Slowly he falls back to sleep thinking about her, dreaming of their home in New York, Oli waking up early to water the plants as he played the guitar in the garden, making dinner together, napping together at their studio’s couch after a long day of work. He wakes up a bit lost and finds his writing journal few inches away from a pool of wine he accidentally spilled last night. He hoisters the journal carefully but lets something fall in that puddle: a map.

“No, no no no” he picks it up and runs to the bathroom pressing the white towels against the paper. He unfolds the thing and stares in slight relief as the whole thing wasn’t too affected. That map of New York has so many precious memories recorded on it, her handwriting is all over the place. He finds the spot east of Central Park where she marked with a circle and wrote ‘home’.

  He wants to go home, he wants to relive their good moments and make new ones. Every piece of poetry in that book somehow reminds him of her. There’s the one describing how he felt after their vacation in Rio, when he got to see her interacting with the place she grew up on. She was so fulfilled, so joyful... He had then rented a penthouse across the street from the beach where they could see the whole coastline. They’d wake up in bliss, make love all morning and spend hours just on pillow talk. Then he’d take her to the sea and hold her legs around his waist, leaning to kiss her between the waves, her touch light on him. He called the poem “Waves in Her Eyes”, he never felt like making it a song, just a good reverie.

  One of his favorites, “Spotlight”, is about watching her perform. She feels so in sync with her music, it’s like she’s possessed by it. He always idealized her when he saw her onstage, after all she looked other-worldly beautiful, but coming off stage that side of her disappeared and she was just Oli: playful, simple, charming Oli. He remembers watching her practice when she’d spend the weekends in his flat in London, one earpod giving her the playback as he could only hear her powerful low-pitched voice roaring the melodies.

  He dozes off quite often, waking up randomly to read another poem, drink some wine and doze off again. When it’s noon, he picks up the phone to no messages of her.

“Hey Oli, it’s me again. This is getting old, but I just want to talk to you... You’re so fucking complicated, ay? Why won’t you ever say what you wanna say?” he spits bitterly but immediately regrets it. “Sorry, in your defense, that side of you never stopped me from loving you. I do it almost like breathing. But now... I know I’ve fucked up, but so did you. I’ll never give up on us but I’m tired of apologizing to silence, maybe one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry too... who am I kidding, you never do, do you?”

  He loses track of the days he’s spent in the hotel room. One evening, Mitch comes around with his guitar to play something he’s working on but Harry barely clocks in.

“This is a bunch of shit” Mitch groans, looking around the place.

“Sorry mate, I’m not really in the mood for it”

“By the looks of it, your mood is only self-pity and wine. I could agree with wine but self-pity isn’t cool”

“I’ve never felt less cool, Mitch” Harry sighs.

“Fuck’s sake... Harry, go to New York”

“She might not be there-“

“She might be” he counters, willing to play cup half-full if it gets his friend out of this mess.

“I have to finish the album”

“You’re not finishing the album like this”

“I’ll write you something, I promise” he insists, the album is the last string he has grounding him to her world, he needs to finish it.

“Don’t force yourself to it, do what you want whenever you want it. I’ll be right here pal”

“Thanks Mitch”

  He doesn’t remember when he left, nor how he came to the hotel room in the first place, but now he finds himself at the dinning table staring down a blank page of his journal. There’s so much he feels but very little he can put into words. In his haze, he thinks about writing about a particularly steamy night they spent together. It started with them making out on the couch, but slowly their touches became more daring and things got heated. He can’t take the pen to write as he’s too busy playing with himself.

He feels disgraceful, unable to work, to leave the hotel or do anything but feel sorry for himself. But suddenly, his phone rings. In a room so doomed by silence, his ringtone feels like a needle piercing his eardrums. “Hello?”

“Harry?” Frank asks from the other end of the line, “Is that you? Are you ok?”

“How the fuck you think I am?” he answers in a fickle tone, “Why didn’t you answer my texts, I’ve been trying to talk to you for days”

“I know man, I feel awful about it”

“Where is she?” his anger simmers to a small whimper.

“She’s in New York”

“Why won’t she answer my calls?”

Frank dallies with his words trying to find the best ones for this situation, “Harry, there’s something she needs to tell you but she doesn’t know how”

“What is it?” he begs.

“I can’t tell you, I swore to her I wouldn’t”

“Ain’t that precious: she can’t tell me, you can’t tell me, I might as well just fuck off”

Frank feels the full weight of his heart-break, which is in part his fault as he couldn’t talk Olivia through her silence, but this is his only chance to atone. “Tomorrow we’ll play at Jim’s to celebrate the band’s anniversary, 9:00 pm. Your name will be on the list. Don’t miss it”

  Without further ado, he ends the call.

  Harry leaps up in a burst of energy and starts packing his stuff. With everything packed, he looks at the mess he left in the room. If Anne was in this hotel room, she’d bash him up for his behavior, so in honor of her education he makes sure to leave the place spotless. After that, he texts Frank an apology. They both fucked up, but Frank never deserved this treatment. Years of friendship have made him look at his in-law through Oli’s lens, her undying love for him is contagious.

“Hey love, if you haven’t heard any of my voicemail you won’t hear this either, but I’m coming home. What I’m doing here without you doesn’t make sense. I hope when we get to see each other we’ll figure ourselves out, ‘cause this small taste of life without you is quite miserable... anyway, we’ll sort ourselves out. I love you”

  He books himself an overnight ticket to New York and leaves, spending the whole trip trying to justify his absence to Ryan and the other producers. He can't work until he's got Oli back, or at least until they're sorted out.

  He arrives at Jim's pub almost at the end of the show, calmly strolling down the snowy streets. The doors open to a crowded hall, he has to squeeze between the guests to find a privileged spot. Once he gets it, there's nothing between him and Oli. He sighs and smiles until her eyes find his beneath the spotlight.

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March 2014

  Olivia rubs her eyes, sleeping in a first class flight is truly a transcendental experience. Beneath her, Harry wrestles with the belt holder that painfully presses against his back. She pokes her head out in the corridor, the lights are all still out and there are no flight attendants in sight. On the entertainment system is a freeze frame of Finding Nemo, she doesn’t remember having paused it so she just assumes Harry did. The divide between their seats was lifted and they found a strange position to sleep together while keeping the seatbelts fastened. He hits the entertainment system clumsily to find they’re missing less than an hour until landing in New York.

“Already?” he groans with a husky voice, tugging on her elbow, “didn’t even get the time to fuck in the bathroom”

“No fucking way-“

“Just a quickie ‘ey?”

“You’re disgusting” she dismisses it, pulling her blanket up to her chin.

“I wanna get in the mile high club” he insists.

“Come again?”

“It’s like a club of people-“

“I figured, I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating” she chuckles at him, “what do you get in that club?”

“I guess a membership card and a breakfast basket”

“Ugh, I’m dying for breakfast” she rubs her feet together as one of them is numb.

“You can always order something from the menu”

She raises her brows, “Oh yeah, I’ve got money now” he giggles, getting up as well and stealing a bit of her blanket. “Always forget that, I guess my soul will always be a twenty-year-old broke student”

“You’ll get used to it”

  After about thirty minutes they arrive at the JFK airport, then head to the baggage reclaim. As they wait by the carrousel, they notice a couple of people whispering discreetly. It must be quite a sight: Olivia in her loose jumpsuit hugging Harry by the waist as he keeps a flight pillow around his neck.

“I think we’ve been caught” he pokes her sides, “told you we should’ve taken a private flight”

“Shut up” she runs a hand mockingly over his face. “Broke student, remember?”

“Yeah, right” he pecks her lips.

The baggage starts to arrive at the carrousel as they keep a watchful eye, until she notices one of Harry’s three red suitcases come over. “I got this”

“Oli, it’s really heavy”

“Don’t worry, I got this!”

  She gets close to the tracks and tries to pull it put her legs give away under the weight and she almost trips but eventually gets the damn suitcase. She excuses herself from the people around and takes it to their little cart.

“You ok?” he barely holds a laughter.

“Yeah, just fucked up my shoulder but I’m alright”

“Want me to get the rest?”

“Yes” she cries jokingly.

  Olivia sits on top of his baggage while he pushes her around the arrivals terminal. This, to him, is the least practical way of moving into another place. Since he and Oli decided to live together in New York, they’ve spent a lot of time figuring out the logistics of that. Most of his big stuff – furniture, electronics, memorabilia – has already been moved by a moving company. All that was left were his clothes, and since they were both available, he recruited her for that little adventure.

  They arrive at 3:00 am to avoid the crowds and instead of hiring a transfer they call Frank. He picks them up at that ungodly hour and takes them down the road to Manhattan.

“How was the photoshoot?” Franks asks.

“It was great, after the second album’ shoot we asked for something a bit more grounded and they found this really sick house with a swimming pool” Harry picks up his phone to show the pictures.

“I’m feeling some wet shirt vibes” Oli taunts.

“The pool was empty, love”

“Bullshit” she mocks, “You were there doing what? Riding skateboards?”

“Lou actually tried but he ain’t good enough for that” he comments leaning over to show them the pictures, Frank tries to catch a glimpse but Harry pushes him away. “Don’t look, you’re driving”

“Didn’t you say wet shirt?”

“No! Didn’t you hear anything we just said?” she complains.

“I kinda zoned out after wet shirt” they laugh.

  As they make their way to Manhattan, they drive through Brooklyn noticing how quiet the bustling city feels at this time in the morning. All they see is the newspaper delivery truck, few cabs arriving at the neighborhood, people walking their dogs. They take the Manhattan Bridge and watch as the city transform from the horizon to the engulfing walls around them. This late they ride through empty avenues, as if they’re sneaking into the city while everybody else’s asleep.

“Is that a church?” Frank notices when he parks the car.

“Yeah, St. Lazarus Chapel. They don’t ring bells or anything like that, at least not every hour” Oli explains. “But I think I’ll go crazy just like my mum”

“Why’s that?” Harry asks while Frank chuckles knowingly.

“When I was little she used to make me do the cross sign every time I passed before a church, and there’s a bazillion churches in Rio so we walked like to maniacs going-“ she performs the cross sign several times, “all the time”

“I never saw you do that”

“Guess I lost practice”

  After dropping all their luggage on their new place, Frank heads back to his flat. They have to crawl up some stairs to the small building before taking the elevator, but once they arrive at the huge flat it feels worthwhile. It still smells like fresh ink and new rugs, there’s still a couple of unfinished furniture, lots of boxes to unpack but it’s welcoming. Harry notices the decorations he brought over from London is already in place at the kitchen and the dining room, along with some of her stuff. It feels appropriate, like a place made for both of them, a mix of what they both enjoy.

“Do you want to unpack now or can we just sleep a bit?”

“Let me just get my trousers”

  He searches through the cases while she climbs the stairs to the master bedroom.  As there seems to be no one around and, through their wall-sized window, he can't see any neighbors, he chooses to change right there in the middle of the living room. When he climbs the stairs to their suite he finds Oli with a grumpy face staring at her phone.

“What’s with the funny face?”

“Got an interview in Boston today” she grunts, “I completely forgot”

“Oh, come on” he climbs on the bed beside her, “can’t you reschedule it? Maybe Morgan can say you’re sick-“

“No! This is big, I have to go” she dismisses putting her phone down, “Just got time for a quick nap”

“Oli, come on... I just got ‘til Friday before the tour”

“I know, it’s a quick drive, I’ll be back tonight”

“Can’t you take the week off? Just this once, so we can get the place done” he works his way to her neck, laying small kisses over it but she won’t break.

“You can get it done on your own, I’ll help when I get back” she pecks his head quickly before hopping out of the bed and towards the bathroom. He follows her there with puppy eyes and she sighs, “Haz... really? I got to do it, it’s just one day, I’ll come back right after!”

“I know, I just don’t want to stay here on my own”

“If we keep working like this eventually one of us will stay here alone, we talked about this” she reminds him while putting her braids on a bun.

“I get it, I just... I don’t like here the way you like here, staying in New York without you feels a bit dumb”

“You’re making a fuss for nothing”

“I only moved here to stay with you, first day I get here and you’re off to somewhere else, it’s a bit telling” he insists, making her stop on her tracks.

“Harry, this is a one off thing! If it was anything else I’d rather stick around and finish this place with you, you know how much effort I put into it, but I have to work! You agreed to it before we even got the deed!”

He leans his forehead on the doorframe, hitting it slightly. “I know... Can we at least-“ he’s cut by her phone ringing.

“Hi Morgan...” she picks up to talk to her agent, “You better call him, I think he also forgot...”

  Harry leaves her on the bathroom and sits on the top of the stairs. The window opposite to him takes a whole wall from the ceiling of the second floor to the base of the first, and through it he can see parts of St. Lazarus Chapel. He never considered how faith had seldom played a part in his life, it’s not something he misses particularly, but he always envied the faithful. They have such a peaceful conformity with the way life is, he assumes they interpret every setback as the will of God and therefore even the worst things in life must happen for a positive outcome. He wishes he could have that, he wishes he could think of their careers as a privilege but in times like these it’s hard to understand God’s designs. Why would they move together if they get further apart?

  Out of sheer curiosity, Harry closes his eyes and makes a prayer, a very silent one without even putting his hands together, just repeating the words that come so naturally to him. Growing up in a small city, religion was a constant in his education just as much as art. After years of reciting the words he even frowns upon forgetting some of them and maybe changing the order of some verses.

  His prayer is cut by Olivia leaving the bathroom, carrying her perfumed scent out with her. She picks a change of clothes and stores on a small rucksack, at least he knows for sure she won’t take long to come back.

He keeps hearing her actions behind his back until she gets silent: “Don’t do this to me”

He turns around, “What?”

“Don’t sit there like an abandoned dog, you’re killing me” he chuckles but she remains dead serious. “We’re already taking huge steps, Harry, I swear to you this isn’t the way it’ll be from now on”

“If you say so” he smiles shortly, she huffs and continues to pack her things.

“Do you want to come with me?”

“No, I’ll unpack the stuff, there’s still a lot to do”

“Fine, suit yourself” she sits down on the bed and furiously ties her shoes. She wants to say something, anything to make him quit the tantrum and realize how quickly she’ll be back but he’s a stubborn little baby. If she wants to get away with it without scathing her relationships, she’ll have to choose her words carefully. With him, there’s no antidote for her missteps, and she doesn’t want to face the consequences of upsetting him so deeply. “Tell me something: if I asked you not to go on tour next week to help me settle things here, would you do it?”

He huffs, “Oli, you know I can’t-“

“Why should it be different with me?”

“‘Cause if I don’t do my work we don’t get to afford any of this, but one bloody interview won’t change a fucking thing” he bursts.

Olivia stands in shock for a moment, “You’re an arrogant piece of shit”

“Yeah? Tell me something I don’t already know”

  She ignores his self-pity and picks up her bag angrily, checking her phone for the driver who’s already by the door. She wants to say something, anything to make him feel as awful as she feels before she goes. With her bag in hand, she walks past him and down the stairs to the door without even a glance. Guess the stone cold silence say more than words could possibly say.

“Fuck” he sighs, curling in on himself. Her silence is truly deafening.

  For hours Harry can’t shut his eyes, he keeps roaming around his own flat and talking to the walls in hopes of them talking back. He sits at his garden and watches the sun rise considering if he should call and apologize, maybe blame it on the sleep deprivation or the fear of his own loneliness but he knows it’s his own fault. He admits he has flaws, so does Oli, but she seems more at peace with them than himself. Harry considers checking if any of his friends are in town but eventually decides to face his own solitude and try to make peace with it as well.

  He unboxes some of his books and vinyls, placing them on their library. When that box is done, he finds another with Oli’s certifications: after her breakdown, she and Frank released an album as a duo which got ridiculously acclaimed by critics and fans alike. It was such a wild experiment, dropping everything that was once safe for them musically and just write for the sheer pleasure of it. He wishes he had that freedom and also that same outcome. To keep his mind busy, he plays their CD on the sound system while he hangs her certificates on a corner of the living room.

  Thankfully, there’s enough in the boxes to keep him occupied all day while Olivia works in Boston. The city barely resembles New York in its urbanization but if feels incredibly foreign to her, specially when her mind zones out from time to time stopping her from actually recognizing any sights. She arrives at the studio where she’ll be interviewed and photographed, sits down on the makeup chair and once again lets her mind wonder to the Big Apple. Several times she considers picking up the phone and calling him just to make sure he’s not wallowing in self-pity, that’d be worse than simply being left alone.

“We’re all set up, follow me please” the producers calls her.

She follows to a white background where Frank also stands with a worried frown, “You’ve got that look on your face”

“I’ll tell you later, promise”

  Their pictures are taken with several props and instruments then it’s time for the interview. As it’ll be recorded, Morgan comes up to make sure everything’s ok considering Olivia looks dead eyed and Frank looks like he’s having a caffeine withdrawal.

“Just try to look as if you’re not dead inside” she smiles down at them before giving the production a green light.

An interviewer sits in front of them and out of reach from cameras. “You just need to answer me, the questions will be inserted in the video”

“Alright” Frank nods and she starts.

“The new album is a huge departure from the work that got you on the radar, what caused this shift?”

Frank takes the first answer: “The first album was mostly written by Gina and Fiona, our bandmates, and they had a pop-rock approach that didn’t really represented us but it was enough to get us a start. After we became big enough artists, Oli and I tried to make our music a but more like us”

“Yeah, and by that time we had gone through so many formative steps that it was inevitable for us to sound more mature” she complements, minding how much information she wants to expose.

“How would you describe this mature sound?”

“It’s more influenced by black music and regional music. Frank and I spend a season in my home country with my mom, who’s a musician, and we got to understand each other through music, learning different rhythms and arrangements that made it to the album”

“This new sound also made it hard to keep touring with One Direction, is that something you miss?”

Frank looks at her but she shakes her head negatively. This is not a question he wants to answer, neither does she want to delve deep into her personal relationships which are obviously what the interviewer wants. “We miss our friends from the band...” he answers but her mind quickly evades her, going back to that flat on the east side of Manhattan.

  By the time the sun sets, Harry’s done a lot of unpacking. For the last hour he unboxed several pictures of them to place on hangers, but now decided to rest a bit before actually hanging them. He cuddles up on the couch with a blanket and a cup of tea, alright feeling quite homely in his new home.

  It’s around 7:00 pm when Olivia arrives. As the driver leaves, she finds herself once more in front of St. Lazarus Chapel. In the privacy of the empty street, she discreetly touches her forehead, chest, and both shoulders before walking inside her building. She walks into her new home and drops her keys on a coffee table, absorbing the new decoration until her eyes land on the small ball of covers on the couch. If that isn’t the sweetest fucking sight she’s ever seen...

She steps out of her shoes and crawls beneath the blanket, making Harry fuss a bit making room for her on the couch.  “I told you I’d be back soon”

“You did” he mumbles.

“So you threw a temper tantrum for nothing”

He rubs his eyes and faces her, “I’m sorry love” he strokes her cheek, “I said some rude things and you didn’t deserve that, I’m really really sorry” he pecks her lips, pulling her into his embrace. She knows he’s not a bullshit excuser, he’s very much capable of admitting his mistakes and asking for genuine forgiveness, that’s why she won’t push it further.

“I forgive you, ok?” she pecks the tip of his nose, “but I can’t forget what you said”

“Oli... I didn’t mean it-“

“I know baby, but you said some things that got me worried”

“Don’t worry about that, I was just being a drama queen-“

“I’m not mad about it, I promise! But you’re right, you don’t know many people here and you don’t know the town like I do, and I want you to feel at home” she turns around and picks something from her backpack, “So, I got you this”

He frowns and picks an amass of paper wrapped in a bow. He unlaces it and finds a map of New York City, by the size of the folded paper it must be huge. “... thanks?”

“Come here” Oli tugs on his hand and pulls him to the big empty space in his living room where there’s still no furniture. She opens the whole thing on the floor and it’s about the size of her arms open wide in both dimensions with the city boundaries encapsulating Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens and Jersey. She then takes a red sharpie from her backpack and circles a spot in the east side of Central Park. “This is our house, right?” she writes ‘home’ over the spot, “If you follow Broadway all the way up you’ll get to Frank’s right...” she pinpoints it, “here”

“Ed’s got a place here, right?” he asks.

“Yes! Ed’s got a flat in one of these condos, let me check” she zaps through her texts with Ed Sheeran back to the day she visited his new place, “Yeah, it’s right here, mark it” Harry takes the sharpie, marks an X on the spot and writes Sheeran.

“Do you know if James’ got a place here too?”

“He hasn’t got a place, but he always rents a room in Midtown when there’s a new Broadway show”

“And where’s that?”

“Here” she points it and marks it, staining the tip of her finger with red ink. “We could watch a show sometimes, I need to see the new Phantom of the Opera”

“Oh no, you’ve watched it enough” he chuckles as he recalls her watching it almost weekly and greeting the actors on a first name basis.

“Come on, you never came with me”

“It’s ‘cause I don’t want to” he mocks.

“Fine, then stay here moping like a fucking hermit” she kicks him humorously but he takes hold of her leg and bites it lightly causing her to giggle. “Stop it!”

  He pulls her by the leg, making the map slide on the wooden floor until he can crawl up on her. She spins them around trying to evade his grasp but on his back pocket he accidentally presses his phone and her album starts to play on the PA system.

“You’ve got to be kidding me” she shakes her head in disbelief. “Can't believe you're a fanboy"

“Shut up” she leans and kisses him intently somewhere over Wall Street and Ellis Island.

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