#fl:a

He gave Olivia a gentle kiss, to which she groaned and burrowed into the pillows. “It’s four o’clock in the fucking morning, Styles,” she murmured drowsily, and Harry grinned. “Sun’s up, love. It’s at least nine…” 

“Nine, four, ungodly hours of the morning, synonyms, sleep.” 

“Think I’m gonna go for a jog,” Harry told her, almost just for her reaction. He didn’t get one until he stood up and she mumbled, “I’m dating a fucking psychopath.” Harry laughed and got dressed, already planning out his route and where he could go to get croissants on the way back. 

“Bye, Liv,” he called on his way out.

“Bye, psycho,” she grumbled in reply. 

                                              *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*                                          

Olivia loved the croissants Harry got and gushed about them until hours later when the show opened and she got lost in the music. It was always amusing to watch Olivia when she was on stage, Harry thought, because she almost seemed to glow. 

Maybe it was the stage lights, maybe it was her impeccable outfits, or maybe it was just that angelic glow of hers, but she really did seem to have a different aura when performing. Her yellow guitar certainly didn’t hurt, and neither did her now signature yellow nail polish, and Harry had had to start conscious efforts to keep concentrated on his lyrics and not miss his cues ever since she’d joined the band. 

She just seemed to sparkle, and he couldn’t help but grin back when their eyes would meet and she’d stick her tongue out at him or make a face. Harry found himself showing off just for her, glancing back after Kiwi or a particularly successful water spew to gauge her reaction and see her smile. 

In some strange way, she was taking some control over him. But not in a bad way - sort of a gentle pressure that just made him and his performances better. She pushed him to be a better artist, to go that extra mile, to put all of his heart into his music because he knew that she was doing the same just behind him. 

The shows were spectacular, Olivia was golden, and everything was lovely. 

                                           *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*                                          

The first show out of the US was in Canada, in Toronto. Harry watched Olivia with fond admiration, encouraging her attempt at learning French despite the fact that almost everyone there spoke English fluently. 

She’d wanted to go everywhere and see everything at the first few places, but the exhilaration of being in a different state had worn off after a few more cities and plenty more nights of being absolutely exhausted after shows. 

Toronto had been a little different, and Harry went along with her into town and went into little restaurants and shops, amused at her excitement. He had, of course, been to most every big city in the world several times over through four world wide tours, but it was fun to relive his original thrill at visiting fifty different cities within a year. 

And then, of course, there was Paris. 

                                              *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*                                          

There were certain places, Harry would have to admit, that still retained some of their initial glamour and charm even after several visits and being associated with some not exactly cheery memories. Paris was one of those cities. 

There was something about its little cafes, the glittering Eiffel Tower in the distance, the cuisine, the beauty of French, and really just the city’s entire vibe that was delightfully captivating. Harry had always, at least to some extent, enjoyed his time in Paris, but being there with Olivia just made it seem like heaven on earth. 

“So,” Harry said, stirring his little espresso spoon around in his coffee. “Is it everything you expected?” Olivia, sitting across from him at the little metal table outside a cafe, lowered the bowl the size of her head she was sipping coffee from to reveal a mustache of foam over her lip. 

Harry grinned, reaching over and dabbing a bit off with his pinky. “More foam than coffee, hm?” She giggled, running her tongue over her lip to lick it off, but shook her head. “Foam’s the best part.” 

Smiling despite himself, Harry rolled his eyes as he took a sip of his own (significantly less foamy) coffee. “‘s the only reason you drink it, isn’t it?” he asked, and she shrugged. “Maybe,” she replied. 

“Ridiculous,” Harry murmured, unable to keep the smile off his face. “Right, well, what’s the verdict, then - is Paris a horrific disappointment?” Olivia breathed a happy sigh, glancing around them at the towering buildings and softly chattering French customers of the cafe. “No,” she said conclusively. “No, not at all.” She met his gaze again, just a bit of a smile tugging at her lips, and took another sip of coffee. 

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Care to elaborate?” 

She shrugged, this time preemptively licking the foam off her lip, and let her eyes wander around them again. “I dunno,” she hummed. “It’s just… it’s so much… It’s so much more petite than I expected.” 

Harry must have looked confused, because she laughed and shook her head. “No, no, I mean… I kind of expected a… a bustling tourist trap, you know? But it’s… not.” She shrugged again, stirring her coffee. She looked up at him, smiling adorably, and nudged his foot under the table. “My company’s certainly better than I ever could have expected.” 

“I am, aren’t I?” Harry replied cheekily, and she kicked him in the shin. “You’re supposed to say thank you after a compliment, Styles,” she told him, and Harry winked at her, and she flipped him off. 

Her gaze went behind him, and Harry turned around to see two girls with phones clutched in their hands blushing furiously and staring at him. “Hullo,” he said, and they giggled, whispering something between them in rapid fire French before stepping slightly closer. 

“Erm - bonjour?” Harry tried, and they grinned, handing him the phone and saying something in French. He caught nous t'aimons, a few s'il vous plaîts, and something that sounded like photograph, so he took a picture and said a few je t'aime aussis and mercis back before they walked away. 

“Adorable,” Olivia sighed, a dramatically wistful expression on her face as she sipped her coffee. “They’ll be asking for your picture soon,” Harry told her, and she rolled her eyes. “Oh, please.” There was a beat of silence, and then she looked down at the mug as she stirred it. “Think there’ll be pictures online?” she asked. 

Harry bit his lip. They hadn’t exactly talked about going officially public. “Probably already are,” he told her honestly, and she looked at her coffee for a split second more before ginning up at him and announcing, “I wanna try a macaroon. Know of any good places, Mr. I’ve Been to Paris More Times Than You Can Count?” as she stood up. 

Harry rolled his eyes, shaking his head but sliding cash under the plate before letting her lead him back onto the street. “I never said I’ve been to Paris more times than you can count,” he told her, but she only gave him a nod and an expression that dripped with mock sarcasm. 

“Sure, Styles,” she said. 

“I didn’t!” 

“It’s okay,” Olivia laughed. “You’re too cool for your small town Arizonian girlfriend.” 

Harry grinned and kissed her on the cheek. “Got that right.” 

Olivia scoffed, smacking him on the chest. “Hey!” 

“Oh, hush,” Harry told her, sliding his fingers around hers and letting their hands swing between them as they walked. Olivia grinned, wiggling her eyebrows at him. “Guess you’ll have to buy me some macaroons to make up for that, huh?”

“I guess so,” Harry laughed. 

                                          *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*                                          

“It’s beautiful,” Olivia said as they stepped onto the platform of the Eiffel Tower. 

“I know,” Harry murmured. 

They walked up to the railing, looking out over the city. From his trips in the past, Harry had managed to time it perfectly so that they landed at the top of the tower right at sunset, and it really was quite the sight. 

The sun was a deep orange color, with wisps of clouds pulling hues of gold and cotton candy pink from its rays. The water sparkled beneath them, lights from the city glittering like something out of a story book. Stars were beginning to twinkle into the sky, dotting the darkening atmosphere with pockets of stars and puffs of clouds. 

“H?” Olivia said softly. 

Harry glanced at her, not one bit sorry to miss the breathtaking sight in front of him in exchange for Oliva’s glow. She looked beautiful, haloed by the sunset and looking positively radiant in the soft light of the sun and stars. She gave him a little smile as their eyes met, and it warmed Harry’s heart more than the sun ever could.

“Thanks for doing this,” Olivia said. 

Harry gave her a smile, nudging her gently. “‘f course.” 

“Tour’s been amazing,”  she told him. She breathed a laugh, shaking her head and looking out at the sun again. “God, I could do this forever,” she said, almost just to herself. “Me, too,” Harry replied honestly. 

There was a beat of silence, and then - 

“I love you, Olivia,” Harry whispered. 

She went still, and Harry felt a pang of horrifying regret. 

He remembered what she’d told him about her ex all in a rush; that they’d been engaged, that he’d broken her heart, that she was still terrified of getting her heartbroken, that she’d been hesitant to even date him, that she was still scared and he’d just told her he loved her. 

She didn’t look him in the eye. “Maybe we should go back to the hotel,” she said. “We should probably get some sleep before tomorrow.” She turned around and walked back towards the elevator. “Rehearsals all day tomorrow, right?”  

Harry blinked, fear almost freezing him in place before he warily stepped next to her and replied, “Yeah.” But seeing as his heart was stuck in his throat, his voice was almost inaudible. Olivia nodded, still not meeting his gaze. “Yeah,” she said. 

                                          *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*                                          

The elevator ride was more than awkward. She wouldn’t look at him, just stared at the numbers as they went down, down, down, mirroring Harry’s heart as the minutes ticked by and she didn’t say anything. 

She walked him back to the hotel, and said something about taking a walk, and then disappeared. Harry tossed and turned in bed, his heart picking up speed every time he heard footsteps outside the door. 

He didn’t sleep at all. 

He chugged coffee the next morning as he waited for her, trying as hard as he could to hold all his panic in, but it was getting harder and harder to hold it as the sun rose and began to set and she still wasn’t back. 

She didn’t show up for rehearsals. 

Harry sang through as much of the set as he could without his lead guitarist, trying as hard as he could to focus on what he was doing without her. His brain was stuck in a constant loop of where is she, why would I do that, did I go to fast, where is she, why would I -

He missed his cue again. 

They started Kiwi over. 

Harry was telling himself to keep it together, but it felt absolutely impossible. He was absolutely out of his head with anxiety; not just about whether or not he’d gone too fast, but whether or not she’d come back before the show.  He was hoping, praying she would, but he just didn’t know. 

He knew that she was scared. He knew she was terrified, because her heart had gotten broken and could break again if Harry messed up. He just couldn’t help being so open - it was just in his nature to tell her how he felt. 

Or maybe he just should have kept his bloody mouth shut. 

He fucked up the lyrics again, and Sara suggested they move on. 

Harry nodded and shook out his shoulders, telling himself not to think about it. And it worked, somewhat, so he managed to get through the rest of rehearsals without messing anything up too badly. 

The feeling of hopelessness kicked in about two minutes before show time, when Harry was brushing his teeth for the third time in ten minutes just for something to take his mind off Olivia. The rest of the band was on stage, and the opening music was playing, and Harry had to force a smile to his face before running onto the still darkened stage. 

                                          *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*                                          

Harry heard guitar. 

Her guitar. 

His heart stopped, and he glanced behind him. 

She was there, and she was smiling at him, and everything was okay. 

The lights flashed, the beat dropped, Harry felt adrenaline rush through him. 

He felt the music take a hold of him, felt everything melt away as Olivia’s glow surged through her guitar and into the awaiting air. He sang out the lyrics, pouring his heart into them, and had the sudden realization that he could bask in her glow for the rest of his life. 

                                          *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*                                          

They didn’t talk about it. 

She didn’t even mention it, and neither did he, but Harry decided that he didn’t mind because nothing had changed. Everything was the way it was, like nothing had ever happened in the first place. 

That’s what Harry told himself, at least. 

But really, he wasn’t brave enough to talk about it. He wasn’t brave to admit that he still felt the same way, that he still loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He didn’t have the courage to tell her just how much he missed her, how much it broke him to be without her even just for a few hours.

He was scared how she’d react if she knew how much he depended on her. Being without her was pain, but loving her was the antidote. And really, he’d do anything to keep her, to keep her love, to keep the pain away and the antidote coming. 

                                          *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*                                          

Harry peppered kisses down Olivia’s neck, waiting until she giggled and tilted her head to kiss him back before stealing the remote from out of her hands and sliding to the other end of the couch with a victorious shout. 

“Harry Edward Styles!” Olivia exclaimed, practically jumping on top of him to try and get it back. Harry just grinned, shaking his head at her as he raised the remote above his head and clicked The Notebook. 

It was the second month of the three month break between the one city Asia leg and the European leg of tour, and as they waited for takeaway they were, as usual, arguing over which movie to watch over dinner. 

“Haarrryyyy,” Olivia groaned. “We just watched this last week!” 

“Exactly!” Harry replied with a grin. “Last week! Been ages, love. I need my weekly dose of Ryan Gosling.” Olivia pouted, reaching for the remote, but Harry kept it out of reach. “Well, I need my weekly dose of Hugh Grant!” 

“Oh, please,” Harry replied. “Tall, British, curly-haired, gorgeous - you’ve got me right here!” Olivia sighed wistfully, shaking her head. “Sorry, Styles, but you just can’t compete with those blue eyes.”

Harry scoffed, picking up a M&M from the bowl in front of them and throwing it at her. “Right, well, that’s just rude.” Olivia bit back a grin and sat on his lap. She kissed him, and then said, “You know, usually, I’d say I like you ‘cause you’re cute and nice, but if you’re not going to let us watch an actual classic…” 

Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head, kissing her on the nose before replying, “Ask anyone, Liv, Notting Hill’s great, but it’s no The Notebook.” Olivia pursed her lips. “You’re mean,” she said. 

“Wow, quite the zinger,” Harry laughed. 

“Pleeease?” Olivia dragged, giving him puppy dog eyes from under her lashes. “Pretty, pretty please with a cherry on top?” Harry huffed a sigh, glancing at the two bowls on the table, and then began, “How about -” 

“Yes!” Olivia exclaimed, snatching the remote from his hands.

“No, no, no,” Harry said with a grin, taking the remote back. “No, you didn’t let me finish.” He took an M&M from one bowl and a Skittle from the other, putting one in each hand, and then put his hands behind his back and switched them around a few times. 

Olivia just raised an eyebrow. 

“Right, so you’re going to pick a hand,” Harry said, pulling his hands from behind his back with his fists closed, “and if it’s a Skittle, we watch the lad you’re cheating on me with. If not, I get to pick the movie.” 

Olivia grinned. “Bold of you to assume you’re not the one I’m cheating on him with.” 

Harry scoffed, standing up from the couch. “Right then, have fun with -” 

“No!” Olivia yelped, pulling him back down. She laughed, shaking her head and trying to school her expression into a more serious one. “No, no, I’m sorry - what am I doing?” Harry rolled his eyes, smiling despite himself, and held out his hands again. 

“Pick one.” 

Olivia grimaced, looking at his closed fists warily. “The chocolate’s gonna be all melted…” 

“Wouldn’t have been if you’d just chosen as soon as I asked.” 

“Alright, alright,” Olivia laughed, tapping on his right fist. 

He opened it, hoping for an M&M, but… 

Alas. 

“A-ha!” Olivia exclaimed, popping the Skittle into her mouth happily. “Get ready to swoon over Mr. Hugh Grant!” Harry muttered something about crooked teeth, but Olivia just shushed him as she clicked out of The Notebook and onto Notting Hill, curling up next to him as the movie began. Smiling, Harry kissed her forehead, and suddenly he wasn’t too upset about missing out on his favorite movie. 

                                          *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*                                          

Harry was head over heels for Olivia. 

He really was. 

He adored her enthusiasm, her love for new places, everything about her. More than anything, he was excited to finally be in Switzerland with her. She’d been looking forward to it since the beginning of tour, and he couldn’t wait to explore every inch of the country with her. 

But not at half past midnight after a particularly long flight and brand new jet lag. 

They’d just gotten off break, which meant Harry was still in that primary stage of not quite being used to the constantly fluctuating time zones. He was barely conscious, the warm, soft sheets of the bed in his awaiting hotel room seeming like heaven, his brain muddled with stale airplane air… 

“It’s an hour, Harry,” Olivia was telling him in the car to the hotel.  

“It’s one am, Liv.” 

“It’s midnight,” Olivia sighed. “You think it’s midnight.” 

“Please just wait a few hours,” Harry groaned, putting his head in his hands.

Olivia huffed, glancing around the car, and finally landed on the packet of Skittles she’d bought at the airport. “Okay, okay,” she said, sliding the remainder of the candies into her palm. There were only a few left, so she kept an orange one and a yellow one and put the rest back into the bag. 

“Okay,” she repeated, putting a Skittle in each palm before putting her hands behind her back and switching them around a few times. Then she put her closed fists in front of her and said, “Pick one. Orange, right to the hotel. Yellow, right to the river.” 

Harry sighed, tapping her left fist. 

“Rigged,” Olivia said immediately at the sight of the orange Skittle, and that got a smile out of Harry, who grinned and shook his head. “We’ll go first thing tomorrow,” he told her, and Olivia groaned, eating both the Skittles and laying back against the door. “I’m gonna be bored to death in the hotel,” she grumbled. 

Harry glared at her. “There’s this little thing called sleep, Liv.” 

“Old man.”

“We’re the same age!” Harry exclaimed, and Olivia scoffed, shaking her head. “Yeah, well, you’re acting like a grandpa.” Harry managed to grin and replied, “I happen to know quite a few grandpas, so I will, in fact, take that as a compliment.” 

“You’re impossible,” Olivia whined. 

“And you need to sleep.” 

“It’s not productive,” Olivia mumbled, smiling just a bit. 

“‘s necessary, though,” Harry said. 

Olivia grinned and kissed him. “Necessary is subjective.” 

“Wake me up at six,” Harry told her, kissing her again before situating himself against the window to try and get some sleep. “Fine, old man,” Olivia sighed, pulling out a notebook and pencil. “Better wake up when I tell you to.” 

“I will,” Harry said, not meaning it one bit. 

                                          *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*                                          

Harry woke up to the scent of coffee and citrusy perfume. 

“Rise and shine, superstar!” Olivia sang, and Harry groaned, burrowing into the pillow. 

Olivia sighed, bouncing onto the bed next to him and laying horizontally against his chest. “It’s seven,” she told him, “‘cause I’m nice. And I made coffee. I saw this really cute chocolate place on the drive over when you were sleeping, and they sell coffee, too, so we can get even more caffeine in our systems!” 

“I can get more caffeine in my system,” Harry mumbled. “You sound like you’re high on crack.” Olivia giggled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” She sat up and shook his shoulder. “Please?” she asked. “Pretty, pretty please?” 

“Where’s the coffee?” Harry sighed. 

“Wunderbar! Danke, liebling!” Olivia exclaimed, kissing him on the cheek.

                                          *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*                                          

Harry sipped his second (third?) cup of coffee as they walked through the streets, still half asleep. Much to Olivia’s disappointment, nothing was really open besides a few cafes where they’d gotten a few pastries and their coffee. 

So Olivia led Harry into the old town, or, as Olivia told him, the Altstadt. Harry walked behind her as she flitted from one plaque to the other, occasionally coming back to him to explain something she found particularly interesting. 

“Did you know that Erasmus walked these streets?” she asked enthusiastically, and Harry raised an eyebrow. “I have no idea who that is, love.” She giggled, shaking her head, and told him, “Me neither.” 

Harry rolled his eyes with a smile, following her around a corner and then nearly bumping into her. She’d stopped dead in her tracks, and Harry followed her gaze to a small fountain. 

On top of the fountain, where Olivia was staring with her jaw dropped, was a monkey. It seemed to be made of bronze, looking particularly mischievous with a hat and what looked to be a bunch of grapes. 

“I love him,” Olivia whispered. 

“Jesus Christ,” Harry muttered, grinning despite himself. 

He followed her to the edge of the fountain, where she went dramatically still, and Harry stood behind her and slid his arms around her waist. “Should get one of these for your backyard,” he said after a second of silence, and she burst out giggling.

“Can you imagine?” she laughed. “A giant bronze monkey in the middle of Arizona?” 

Harry shrugged, kissing her cheek, and then grabbed her hand and spun her around in a twirl. “This is wonderful,” he told her, “but we should probably get back.” Olivia pouted, but didn’t argue, instead sighing and staring ruefully over her shoulder as they walked away. 

“Craige,” she said. 

“What?” 

She grinned. “His name is Craige, and he’s the love of my life.” 

“I’m jealous,” Harry laughed. 

“Oh, don’t be,” she replied. “You just can’t compete with a dashing monkey like Craige.” 

“Nobody can.” 

She giggled and took his hand, swinging it as they walked. “Now you’re getting it!” 

                                          *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*                                          

“You got to pick the movie last night, I should get to pick the music today,” Olivia argued in the car back to the hotel. Harry scoffed, shaking his head. “Erm - no, that’s not how that works. We both like Fleetwood, but your old hippie stuff isn’t -” 

“Old hippie stuff!” Olivia shrieked. “Just for that you should let me pick the music!” 

“Okay, okay,” Harry laughed, balancing the steering wheel with his knee as they came to a red light. He reached into the cup holders in front of them, where the remainders of their snack were sitting. 

“A M&M,” he said as he put a Skittle in one hand and an M&M in the other, “and we’ll listen to Fleetwood. Skittle, and you can pick.” Olivia groaned. “Not this again.” Harry grinned, keeping an eye on the red light as he put his hands under the wheel and switched them around a few times. “C’mon, Liv,” he said, bringing his hands back up, “it’ll melt. Chop chop.” 

Olivia sighed, tapping his left fist. 

Harry grinned as Olivia whined nonsense, popping the M&M into his mouth and driving on when the light changed. “You don’t even mind Fleetwood Mac,” he told her as she chewed through the Skittle and flicked through to Rumours. “Yeah,” she murmured, “but it’s overplayed…” 

“Oh, please,” Harry scoffed. 

“Really, though, I hear it so much it’s lost its charm,” Olivia insisted, but she was giving a pretty passionate air drum impression, so her point was lost. Harry grinned, glancing at her before looking back at the road. “Should’ve gone into drumming. Would’ve given Sarah some competition.” 

“Bet your ass I would have,” Olivia told him, and they both shouted the chorus as it played. Olivia collapsed in a fit of giggles as she completely messed up the lyrics and told him, “Wouldn’t have happened if you’d let me pick.” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “You know the words, Liv. You’re awful at pretending, love.” 

“No, I don’t!” Olivia exclaimed. “Swear to God, Styles - your choice in music just sucks. Our karaoke would have been so much better if you’d just let me pick.” Harry grinned, shaking his head. “That logic makes zero sense.”

“Logic is logic,” Olivia said with a shrug. 

“‘s not logic,” Harry replied, “it’s nonsense. My bad.” 

“You’re right. Your bad. Should let me pick the next song to make up for it.” 

Harry shook his head, turning up the music as Second Hand News came on. “Very clever, Liv, but not today.” Olivia sighed, mumbling along with the song reluctantly as Harry screamed his lungs out. 

She was grinning by the end of the song, peering out the window as the scenery flashed by and the music blasted. Harry smiled, and held her hand, and she laughed and called him a sap but kept their hands intertwined until they got back to the hotel. 

                                          *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*                                          

St. Jakobshalle was a success. Nerves had set in about playing Anna and Medicine for the first time, but both seemed to go over well with the fans. The crowd was spectacular, Olivia was golden, the show was fantastic.

He was on more of a high than ever after the curtain dropped, and drinks with the band and crew were in proper order, so Harry went out and had a ball. He danced and laughed and had the time of his life, thankfully without getting too pissed. 

It was a little after one am when the car came around to pick them up, and Harry was about to get into the car with the others when Olivia tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey,” she said, “can we talk?” Harry nodded, telling the others he’d meet them at the hotel before following Olivia out the back and into the labyrinth of streets. 

She grinned at him after a second, nudging his shoulder with hers. “Brilliant show, huh?” 

“Brilliant,” Harry agreed, stealing a kiss. She giggled, grabbing his hand and swinging it between them as they walked. There was another beat of silence, and Harry cleared his throat. “This is… very pleasant, Liv, but, erm - anything in particular you wanted to talk about?” 

“So glad you asked,” she said, just as they turned a corner, and Harry’s breath caught as he took in the scene in front of him. They’d come onto a little cobblestone street bordering the river - the Rhine, Harry was fairly certain - where a little stone bridge crossed the crystal blue water. There were small lanterns dotting strings between trees, and the moon was bright in the sky, surrounded by stars blinking at him cheerfully. 

“Wow,” Harry murmured. 

They walked up to the bridge, stopping just in the middle to look over the water to the horizon in the distance. Huge, castle-like houses dotted the hillsides, and there was a brightly lit Ferris wheel just visible behind a tower. Lights sparkled from inside houses and from the amusement park under the Ferris wheel, glittering like the stars peppering the inky night sky above them. 

“It’s beautiful,” Harry said quietly. 

“Yeah,” Olivia whispered. 

“We’ll buy that house,” Harry told Olivia, pointing to a house on the water, “and come every summer.” The house was surrounded by a low stone wall and tufts of bright green trees, and painted a blue color that was bright even in the darkness. Dozens of windows were lit bright yellow, and smoke curled from its chimneys. 

“We could fit both our families combined in that thing,” Olivia said, laughing a bit. 

“We should. Or the band. Fancy a writing retreat here for three months?” 

Olivia giggled, nudging his shoulder. “Reckon I do fancy a writing retreat,” she said, mocking his accent, and Harry rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Christ,” he murmured with a grin. There was a beat of silence, and then Olivia cleared her throat. 

“Hey, Harry?” she said softly. 

“Hm?” 

She smiled, stepping up on her tiptoes, and with her lips just centimetres from his, she whispered, “I love you, too.” She leaned forward, just a bit, and kissed him. And even though the sky was dark and the sun was nowhere to be seen, at that moment, everything was golden. 

                                          *✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*                                          

la fin 💜

hope you enjoyed!!!! if you wanna be a gem, tell me: 

1. where you’d live if you could live anywhere in the whole wide world 2. your favorite animal 3. how you take your coffee or!!!! tell me anything!!! feedback is always much appreciated :) 

if you want to read more about Olivia and Harry, click here!