#peterfriggingpan

"So, are we still hanging out at the pub then? How can you be sober at a bloody pub? That's ridiculous, that is.", Mark ranted, visibly annoyed.

"Where do you propose we hang out then?", Harry prompted, knowing full well he didn't have an answer to his question.

"My place?", he asked, hopefully.

"Yeah, no thanks. Your place is full of your bloody screaming children. You know I can't stand that for more than thirty minutes at a time."

"Yeah, right. Sometimes I think you love those kids more than me.", he said, laughing.

Harry didn't reply. He was busy staring towards the bar.

Mark turned around annoyed, to finally see what his friend had been staring at for the whole time they were there. Yeah, remarkably shit at keeping promises, he thought again, realising that his friend was looking at a group of girls sitting at the bar doing shots. Staring at one particular girl.

He sighed. "Just go over there already. I have my bloody screaming children to get home to."

"Don't mind if I do", Harry said, chucking the remainder of his soda in one gulp. He picked up his glass and walked towards the bar, muttering a half-arsed goodbye to his friend.

Mark left without saying goodbye back, but Harry didn't care. Mark was as loyal as they come, and no matter what he got up to he always seemed to be able to forgive and forget.

He had gotten to the pub about ten minutes before his friend that night, which gave him plenty of time to scope out the place. It was almost empty, apart from the table with the three usual pals of the owner, who where there every day of the week, and a group of girls who were probably on a pub crawl, half of them looking already drunk.

Mark used to joke that the only thing keeping their favourite pub from closing were Harry's generous tips. Harry thought he was probably right, judging by how dead this place was on a Friday night.

He had sat at their usual corner table and ordered a soda, trying to convince himself that he was going to keep his promise. He waited patiently for Mark, whilst trying to listen in to the girl's conversation to pass the time. He was keeping his head low subconsciously, trying not to get recognised by them, as he was so used to doing, but they didn't even glance his way once.

"Next round's on me!", a petite blonde girl from the group shouted, her high voice way louder than it needed to have been.

A bunch of excited "woos" came from the rest of the girls, and they all cheers'd together when their beers arrived.

"To Jenn, for finally getting the promotion she was chasing after for fucking two whole years!", one of them said.

The blonde girl screamed excitedly, meaning she must've been Jenn.

Harry shamelessly checked them all out, one by one.

The girl named Jenn was the shortest of them all, but she screamed the loudest, and she seemed pretty drunk out of her mind already.

Vomit city, Harry thought, even though every cell of his being was yearning to be as drunk as her right now.

Next to Jenn, was another blonde, with long curly hair, blue eyes and a prominent nose. She was laughing constantly, her high-pitched laugh instantly putting Harry off, even though he thought she looked pretty hot in that short leather skirt she was wearing, contrasting her doll-like face.

Then, there was a really tall girl, probably about the same height as Harry with the heels she had on, with bright red lipstick and a white dress, light-brown curly hair and the same blue eyes as the weird laugh girl. Looks like sisters, Harry thought, and then his eyes fell to her right ring finger, where he spotted a gold band. He instantly reached for his own ring finger, absentmindedly rubbing the spot where a ring would be.

Moving on to the last girl, he thought, but he couldn't see her clearly from where he was sitting.

He waited for a bit, figuring she was bound to move around and he could catch a glimpse at her, but she was sitting pretty still.

He was staring at her all night long, while Mark was chatting away at him, blabbing about his wife wanting him to wash the dishes every night and how he was sick and tired of driving all around town to pick up his kids from some place just to take them some place else. Harry knew Mark loved doing those things, and he was just messing about, just to have something to say. Mark's life was pretty much the same every day. Harry could sense that he felt embarrassed about that, every time they got together.

When they were growing up, everyone thought Mark was going to be the one to make it. He was on his way to be a brilliant football player, everyone said so. And then he hurt his knee pretty bad one day at practice when he was 15, and he wasn't the same ever since. So he got a job at a bank, rose steadily through the ranks, got married to a plain girl, bought a plain house and had plain children. Pretty embarrassing, compared to his world famous best friend.

Harry wished he could understand how jealous of his plain life he was. And he pretended he wasn't. That's what he was best at.

The last girl was wearing high-heeled black leather boots. Black sheer tights, short black skirt or dress, he couldn't exactly tell. Toned legs underneath.

He caught a glimpse of long dark, almost black curls.

He heard her singing along to the song that was playing. Some song about sweaters. Warm, sweet voice. Decent, he thought.

He heard one of the others call her Rosie.

I like the name Rosie.

Mark had finally caught on. He told him to go over there, so Harry went. As if he was waiting for his permission.

He walked slowly towards the bar, settling across from her, asking the barman to get him another soda.

She turned around at the sound of his voice, and he could finally get a good look at her.

She had long black hair, very long indeed. It was loosely curled, and it gave her a wild look.

High-arched black full brows, verging on unkempt, but suiting her.

Piercing eyes. Almond- shaped, honey coloured, almost yellow in certain lighting. Shooting daggers at him. Feral.

Sharp jaw-line, straight nose. Gold hoop earrings.

Full, rose lips.

Rosie.

Harry was taken aback by how intimidating she looked, almost unapproachable. He took his soda in hand, ready to get back to his table, disappointed.

And then she smiled. She smiled at him. Big, beautiful, genuine smile. Reaching her eyes, making her squint, tiny lines appearing next to them.

Oh, sweet Rosie.

Harry was hooked. And so was Rosie, it seemed, cause she excused herself from the group and went around the bar to sit next to him.

"Wanna buy me a drink?", she asked, smiling that big smile of hers.

Bold.

"Don't you think you've had enough?", Harry asked, smirking back at her.

"How about I buy you one then?", she remarked.

Very bold.

Harry laughed, and motioned to his soda. "Can't. Going sober."

"Oh, that's okay.", she said, still in high spirits. "I'm Rosie. And you are?"

"I'm Harry. Nice to meet you.", he said shaking her hand. Soft, warm, hand. He held it slightly longer than necessary, but she didn't seem to mind.

"You seem a bit more together than your friends.", he said laughing, as he noticed Jenn across the bar, almost falling out of a stool.

"Oh, yeah, I can hold my drink a lot better than them.", she replied. "It's okay, though, we all deserve to let loose sometimes."

"Couldn't agree more.", he smirked.

"Wanna come back to my place?", she asked, without hesitating. Unashamed, she stared at him intently, her suggestive look emboldening him.

"Hell yes", he exclaimed. Impulsive. He shoudn't have said that.

Too late now.

She took his hand, waved goodbye to her friends, and they were gone.

Harry drove, cause she didn't have a driver's license. He was taken aback by that, asked her how old she was. She said thirty, raising her eyebrows, as if waiting for a bad reaction. Challenging him to say anything about her age.

"Twenty-nine myself.", he said, making her at ease. At least she was older than she looked. Harry didn't think he'd like younger-looking girls, and yet here he was.

They chatted absentmindedly for the whole short drive, his hand brushing against her thigh as he was changing gears. He felt goosebumps coming on his arms, every time that happened.

Electric.

They arrived at her place. She lived in a small one-bedroom apartment, with a tiny bright yellow two-seater sofa, a bookshelf overflowing with worn-looking books, two glasses and a coffee mug half-full on the coffee table next to a laptop.

Feels more like a home than my stupid mansion, Harry thought, and then smirked at his depressive thoughts.

Poor rich man.

She led him to her bed.

"Take off your clothes.", she commanded, as she sat on the bed and looked at him expectantly, taking off her boots at the same time.

"As you wish.", he said, grinning mischievously.

He had missed this part, the new, the exciting, the unknown.

"You have a lot of tattoos, Harry.", she stated, after she watched him painstakingly remove his garments one by one.

Harry chuckled nervously, running his hand through his overgrown locks, that were at that awkward length between short and long.

"Yeah, is that a problem?"

"No problem at all", she laughed and pulled him onto her on the bed. She swiftly took off her top. Harry realised she wasn't wearing a bra. How come I didn't notice that before?, he wondered to himself.

It was those eyes. He couldn't take his off of hers. They seemed to have darkened in colour, making them seem almost black now.

Lust.

He kissed her hungrily, realising instantly that that was what he was waiting for his whole life. To kiss those lips. That was his life's purpose.

Sparks were flying. Their chemistry was undeniable.

She seemed to think the same, cause she reciprocated the kiss with enthusiasm.

He took her skirt in his hands and pulled it down, taking her knickers and tights along with it carelessly, almost ripping everything apart.

He placed two fingers inside her, and she moaned loudly. He would do everything to hear her moan like that again.

He felt how wet she was, and couldn't help but smile as he was kissing her, feeling proud of himself.

She took him in her hand, her soft, warm hand. It took everything in him not to cum right then and there.

What the hell is the matter with you? You're acting like a bloody teenage virgin!, he thought, extremely annoyed at the hold she had over him. You've just bloody met the girl.

He ran his free hand through her long locks, slightly pulling at it. She seemed to like that, so he pulled even harder.

He continued to finger her, slow and fast and then slow again. He knew that drove them crazy. She was moaning even more loudly now, and he placed his hand over her mouth, laughing as he said, "You're gonna wake everybody up, babe. We don't want an audience now, do we?"

Rosie muttered, "No, we don't. This is just between you and me, babe." And then she moaned, longer and lower than before.

"You're driving me crazy.", he managed to spit out.

She reached over to her nightstand and took out a condom, passing it to him.

He removed his hand from her, and she grunted in protest.

He put the condom on as fast as he could, and climbed over her.

"I want you in me. Right. Now.", she said in between moans.

Harry obliged happily.

It was fast and it was slow all at once. He found himself stopping just to look at her for a bit. She looked even more like a wild animal now, her hair all over the place, her eyes looking at him hungrily, her fingers touching him all over, her full lips whispering his name.

Harry didn't want it to end. And yet, it was over in a matter of few minutes. Harry laid by her side whimpering. He could hear her panting, trying to catch her breath, her heart beating fast.

"That was amazing, Harry", she breathed, placing her arm on his chest, giving him a soft kiss.

"It sure as hell was, Rosie.", he agreed and heard her laughing.

Harry stayed there, staring at her bedroom ceiling, as he calmed himself down, trying to think clearly for once that evening. He had to get out of there soon.

He heard her heartbeat steadying, her breath slowing down, until she finally fell asleep.

Harry got up very quietly, trying his best not to wake her.

He put his clothes back on, and found his cellphone.

He typed a text and sent it.

"Coming home now. Not even a sip of booze, just as I promised. See you soon. x", it said.

He searched the pockets of his jeans and found what he was looking for.

The gold band that fit his right ring finger perfectly. He put it on and sighed.

He opened the door and left without a word, without a moment of hesitation, not noticing the pair of wild honey eyes looking back at him, tears threatening to spill over them.

Harry was pretty good at breaking promises.

----

I'M BACK BABY!

Had a sudden surge of inspiration and wrote this in one sitting. Hope you liked it! Sorry it's a bit long. Please let me know your thoughts.

Getting into acting himself, he soon heard about you from his newly made actor friends. They were talking about that particular award ceremony that was coming up, and they mentioned that they thought you were bound to win another award, but you were definitely going to be a no show for the ceremony. Harry asked them why, and they just laughed. He wondered aloud what was so funny, and one of his friends simply said, ‘You should find out for yourself.’, and made sure Harry would get an invite to the after party.

Harry loved nothing more in the world than meeting interesting people. And after he heard that, he knew you ought to be one of them. So, he freed up his evening and got himself to that party, his only goal to talk to you. 

You were wearing your favourite dress, making the faux pas of wearing it multiple times. You found the whole concept of only wearing something once, just cause people saw you in it, simply ridiculous. It was a maxi, skin-tight, cobalt blue dress, with spaghetti straps and a risque neckline, and it made you feel like a true movie star. You had arrived fashionably late as per usual, finding the first hour of any event incredibly boring. You walked in unaccompanied as always, knowing full well you’d have someone on your arm by the time you walked out. You weren’t ready to settle down by any means, but you loved sex too much to not at least try to get laid at one of these parties. These days, you didn’t even have to try at all, you just had to show up. 

Harry spotted you as soon as you entered the room. He didn’t want to seem too eager so he waited around, chatting mindlessly to people around him while you worked your way through the room. He observed you from afar, making note of your every move. How good you looked in that dress, how it made your blue eyes pop, how your dark hair styled in a sophisticated bun made you look so elegant. How you walked effortlessly on your high heels, gracefully making your way around the room, your long delicate fingers wrapped around a champagne glass, as if that was their sole purpose. How you seemed to know every single person in the room, and how you made sure to talk to each of them as if they were the most important person there. To him you looked as if you had walked out of a classic romantic movie of the sixties, and the rest of the crowd seemed to blend together, as if a spotlight was shining only on you. He felt intimidated by you, and it shocked him to silence. 

As time went by, though, he noticed that maybe you weren’t so unapproachable after all. He noticed how hard someone made you laugh, your giggle piercing through the loud music, which caused you to cover your mouth and flush in embarrassment. He noticed a strand of stray hair covering your left eye, and how you kept pushing it behind your ear, no matter how many times it kept falling out of place again. He studied your mannerisms, how you kept touching people’s arms when you were talking, making them feel at ease, how you got progressively louder as your glass emptied, soon replaced by a full one, how you danced kind of funny, and you simply laughed when someone pointed it out. 

He just had to get to know you.

He took a deep breath and walked straight towards you, trying to feign confidence. You locked eyes with him across the room, and you instantly realised he was walking towards you. You knew who he was, of course; a fellow Brit succeeding in everything he got his hands on in the so-called ‘show business’. You’d heard rumours about him, but had never run into him before now.

“This will be interesting.”, you thought to yourself, as you took the last sip of your third drink of the night. He stopped about a foot away from you, before speaking.

“Hello. I’m Harry Styles. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too. I presume you know who I am, then.”, you replied, shaking his hand.

“Who doesn’t?”, he asked jokingly.

“Lots of people, I’m sure.”, you replied, knowing full well you weren’t as famous as people thought. 

“May I steal you away for a bit?”, he asked quietly, looking warily at the people you were previously talking to, trying not to be heard by them.

“Sure.”, you said, excusing yourself from the group, as he motioned for you to follow him. He walked around aimlessly for a bit, until he found what he was looking for; a quiet corner with no one around to listen in to your conversation.

“I was told you are quite the person to know.”, he stated, smiling wryly at you. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to say to that, so you just laughed awkwardly.

“Congrats on your award, by the way! Well deserved.”, he exclaimed.

“Oh yeah, thank you.”, you replied, trying to brush off the compliment. No matter how many times someone told you you were good at your job, you could never get used to it.

“How come you weren’t at the ceremony?”, he asked curiously, not bothering with any small talk.

“Well, to be honest, I don’t really like those things. I appreciate winning awards, or even being nominated at all, but I just think it’s turned into a bit of a show. Lost its meaning, I reckon. So, I’d rather just skip all that and get straight to the party. More fun that way.”, you replied, motioning to the dancing bodies around you.

“It sure is more fun. I bet you get pestered by your management, though. They don’t let me skip out on any of this.”, he sighed.

“You know, at this point in my life, no one gets to tell me what to do, darling.”, you said, laughing. He laughed along with you. The drinks you had already made you sound a bit too cocky, not a good look on anyone, you thought. So, you decided to be overly honest instead, another effect champagne had on you. “In all seriousness, though, it’s come to the point where it’s now part of my public image, I’m like the actress who doesn’t show up to things. The media always has some story about a feud I have with someone and that’s why I’m not there, but it’s all lies. I just don’t like that kind of attention. And my management doesn’t bother anymore. They know it’s a lost cause.”

“Oh, wow. Must be hard having all those things said about you.”, he said understandingly. He had spent the previous night googling you, and found out that the press weren’t very friendly towards you, even though the general public seemed to adore you.

“I bet you know what’s that like. They just come up with the craziest shit just to get a headline. I don’t even bother reading them anymore. It’s ridiculous.”, you exclaimed, getting flustered just thinking about it. You saw a waiter walking by and you motioned at your empty glass, and he quickly replaced it with a full one.

Harry waited until he left and then said, “I’m the same way. I don’t read anything. I’m not even on social media, really. It’s just toxic.”

“I know exactly what you mean. Let’s not talk about that anymore, though. Tell me a bit about yourself.”, you demanded confidently. 

You couldn’t help but be enthralled by the sheer presence of the man standing in front of you. His hair was messily styled away from his face, a few strands around his ears a bit curlier than the rest. His piercing green eyes were focused on you, his brows furrowed in concentration. He looked freshly-shaven, his cheeks slightly flushed from the bit of alcohol he had consumed. You bet he’d be a good kisser, just by the way his lips looked, soft and delicate. His black shirt was a bit sheer, revealing his muscular torso. It was completely unbuttoned on the top, showing his toned chest and a few unruly chest hairs. You felt surprisingly turned on by his chest hair against the sheer blouse, so masculine and feminine at the same time, a contrast that you found irresistible. You thought about all the ways you’d love his smooth hands to touch you tonight, a suggestive smile forming on your lips. This man was coming home with you tonight, that was certain. You were on the prowl and you’d just found your victim. 

You took a slow sip of champagne, as you tried concentrating on what he was saying. It seemed near impossible to listen to him describe his average day, what projects he was working on, his family and his upbringing, because you were captivated by the way his mouth was moving, the way he talked using his hands, the way his voice sounded, so raspy and deep, his words coming out slowly and carefully, but ever so slightly swifter when he was excited about something. At those brief moments you were able to actually listen to him, you found him incredibly witty and charming, making you want him even more.

You nodded at the appropriate moments and managed to reply to the questions he was asking you. He wanted to know everything about you, and you found yourself eager to tell him. You didn’t feel like you normally would with the men you had one night stands with. This time you actually genuinely liked this person, maybe even more than you wanted him. 

Suddenly, he looked at his watch and muttered “Shit” under his breath. 

“I’m so sorry, but I have to go. I have a meeting really early tomorrow morning.”, he said.

“Oh, alright. I thought maybe you might’ve wanted to go back to mine for a drink or something?”, you asked reluctantly, all the confidence you had earlier disappearing. 

“I wish I could. I’d love to get your number, though. Maybe call you up sometime and we could go on a date or whatever?”, he asked, slightly blushing. 

You instantly smiled, your mood lifting. At least you got to see him again. You exchanged numbers and he said goodnight with a fleeting kiss on your cheek. His hot breath brushed against your neck, as he whispered in your ear, “You look stunning tonight, by the way.”, something he’d been dying to tell you all night, and then left, just like that. 

You were left alone, thinking about him for the rest of the evening, horny as hell. You couldn’t even think about going back home with someone other than him, though. Everyone else looked pale in comparison to the warm bright light that was his presence. So, you returned home on your own, sleeping on your huge bed, which felt surprisingly cold and empty to you for the first time. You had a lot of trouble sleeping, mostly because you were contemplating texting him. You finally fell asleep with your phone in your hands in the early hours of the morning, the thought of Harry’s touch torturing your dreams.

...

You grunted audibly, and then remembered you were at a party with actual people around you. Thinking about Harry made you zone out more often than not. He had that effect on you, consuming your mind and your senses completely. You hated that. You weren’t supposed to be affected by someone like this.

You knew it was like this from the start. When he didn’t call you right away after the party you were more upset than you’d even admit to yourself. You were thinking about him constantly, day and night, even messing up on an audition you had later that week, because you couldn’t focus on anything. His penetrating gaze and lustrous curls never left your mind. You could swear he did it on purpose, leaving you hanging like that, after you showed him how much you wanted him. And yet, when he called you about a week later, you answered his call right away, agreeing to go out with him that very same night.

You sighed. A waiter walking by looked at you questioningly, and then immediately looked away after he realised you saw him. You didn’t even care anymore. You decided you’d stay for one more drink and then you’d go home.

Home. Even that was tainted by him. You remember the first time he came around as if it was yesterday.

...

“Shall we take this back to my place?”, you asked, after Harry insisted on paying the bill. He took you out to his favourite restaurant for your first date, and treated you to exhilarating conversation, not just dinner. You didn’t even notice how late it was getting, you were having so much fun just talking to him. You couldn’t help but flirt with him, touching his arm, being all sweet and playful. And he was flirting back with you for sure, complimenting you, holding your hand, smiling coyly. You were definitely captivated by him and he was definitely bewitched by you.

“I’d love that.”, he said suggestively.

The ride to your house was unbearable. You could practically feel the sexual tension in the air. Harry could feel it, too, so he tried his hardest to concentrate on driving and avoided even glancing your way. The seconds seemed to tick by slower than usual, and you seemed to be catching every red light possible. As you were getting closer to your house, you saw the final traffic light turning from green to yellow.

“Oh, come on!”, Harry exclaimed, startling you. He stepped on the gas, and ran the light just as it turned red.

“What the hell, Harry!”, you yelled.

“I’m sorry, I just had enough of this. I need to get you out of that dress ASAP.”, he said, making you blush. Your lucky dress was of service to you again, the black silk fabric hugging your curves perfectly, fueling his desire.

He made true of his promise as soon as you stepped into your house. You didn’t even manage to lock the door properly before he had you pinned against it, his lips on yours. He kissed you hungrily, his craving for you overwhelming you. His hands found their way down your thighs, lifting you up. You curled your legs around his waist and he held you up with seemingly no effort on his part. You ran your hands through his hair, pulling it slightly. He deepened the kiss, his tongue expertly exploring your mouth.

“Which way to your room?”, he breathed next to your ear, making you shiver.

“Upstairs.”, you blurted, and he instantly shifted all your weight on him, moving towards the stairs with you in his arms.

“Oh my god, Harry, put me down!”, you exclaimed, laughing.

“As you wish, miss.”, he said, and put you down next to the stairs.

“Oh, we’re gonna have a lot of fun together if you keep up that attitude.”, you said, smiling at him.

He simply laughed, and you took his hand leading him up to your bedroom, for what would turn out to be one of the best nights of your life.

...

You came back to reality abruptly, by someone talking to you. You replied vaguely, not even registering who it was or what he was asking you. You knew they’d just brush it off as you being drunk, and even if they didn’t, you couldn’t be bothered. All you could think about was the way Harry’s lips felt against yours, the way his hands touched you in all the right ways, the way he felt inside you. Your cheeks started flushing, and you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second. You shook your head, trying to clear your mind off the dirty thoughts, but failing miserably. 

That night was the first of many you shared together, starting with him taking you somewhere nice, or a party just like this one where you pretended you barely knew each other, but always ending in your bed, with you sleeping naked in his arms. You had gotten to know each other very well, and you could even say you had become quite close. He was considerate, he would call you out of the blue just cause he wanted to know about your day, he would stay up all night running lines with you, he would talk for hours about the books you liked and you’d make him read, he would share his music with you. However, your relationship was very clearly defined by sex for you, and it had somehow gotten better each time with him. You found yourself staying away from other men, not pursuing their interest, always coming back to Harry. You didn’t consider that as being exclusive, and you never felt the need to disclose that to Harry, loving the way things were going between you. But, as it turned out, he didn’t feel the same way, and there was nothing you could do about it.

You decided it was time you left this stupid party. There was no way he would show up this late. You knew you were a fool for hoping he’d somehow change his mind and come anyway. He made it clear to you he didn’t ever want to see you again, not after the way things ended between you.

You let your driver know you were ready to go home, and he was waiting for you in the car by the entrance of the estate the party was being held at. You nodded at him in greeting, and got in the car, not uttering another word for the whole one hour drive.

You arrived home, the relief you were hoping to feel as soon as you got there eluding you for some reason. You put the code in for the alarm almost mechanically, and let yourself in, locking the door behind you. You glanced around at your empty house. It somehow felt different to you. You plopped yourself down on your massive couch, and started rearranging the pillows. It still didn’t feel right. You couldn’t get comfortable.

And then it hit you, just like that, without a warning. It was because of what he said.

 ...

“Can I ask you something?”, he said, stroking your arm gently. You were lying in your bed, almost falling asleep in his arms to the soothing sound of his breathing. He had a sneak peek in your schedule the day before and he knew you’d be home tonight, so he surprised you with takeaway, which was left getting cold on the kitchen counter, cause you had found yourselves otherwise occupied.

“Sure.”, you whispered, your eyelids barely staying open.

“Where is this going?”, he asked, the tone of his voice a lot more serious than you were used to.

“Where is what going?”, you asked back, pretending not to understand him, even though your eyes were now wide open with shock.

“This. Us.”, he said, motioning between your intertwined naked bodies.

“I don’t know what you mean.”, you lied again.

He sighed. “Please stop playing dumb. You know exactly what I mean.”

You knew he saw straight through your bullshit, so you couldn’t see a way to get out of this without having ‘the talk’. You sat up and turned around to look at him, covering yourself up with the sheet.

You took a deep breath and said, “Look, Harry, I really like you. And I like the way things are between us. It’s easy, and fun, and exciting. I don’t want that to change.”

“I like you, too. I love that we’re having fun together. But, I don’t want it to be just that. I think there’s something more here.”, he said sincerely. He was thinking about this from the first week you were hooking up, but he didn’t want to mention anything until he was sure. And now, one month into whatever this was between you, he knew he wanted more. He wanted a relationship, and he had finally found the courage to talk to you about it. He was scared you were going to reject him, cause he heard all kinds of rumours about you. How you were never seen with the same man twice, how it’d been years since you had a serious relationship, how you put your career first at all times. He thought all that made you a strong, independent woman, and he knew if you’d say yes it wouldn’t be because you needed him or any man in your life, it’d be because you actually liked him as person and genuinely wanted to be with him, in spite of what everyone else was saying.

“I’m sorry, Harry, I just don’t want that. It’s not about you, I just can’t have the pressure of a relationship on top of everything else right now. Why can’t we just see each other casually? It’s worked for us so far.”, you replied, not even thinking about it twice. You were so used to giving the same answer, you didn’t even stop to notice how fast your heart was beating, how you were on the verge of crying, how even the sight of disappointment in his face at your reply made you physically hurt.

“No, I won’t take that. I know it’s not true. I can see it in your face, you want this, too. What are you so afraid of?”, he asked, seeing straight through your façade.

The truth was that you were afraid. You were afraid of commitment. You were afraid of being hurt. You were afraid of placing your trust in another person and have it broken again. It had happened too many times. You couldn’t let it happen again. You couldn’t take another man lying to you, cheating on you, making a fool out of you. No, not again.

“I don’t want that, Harry. It was just about sex for me. Nothing more.”, you said cruelly, your face frozen in a blank expression. You couldn’t show him you might have developed feelings about him. You couldn’t let him see how vulnerable you were at that moment.

He instantly got up and picked up his clothes off the floor. He put on his clothes hastily, not bothering to button them up right.

“It’s better this way, Harry. Better for both of us. I’ll end up hurting you or you’ll end up hurting me. I’m not good enough for you. I can’t be what you want me to be. I’m sorry.”, you continued, trying to make it easier for him to accept it.

“You’re so full of shit. You don’t mean that, I know you don’t. I can see the way you look at me. I can hear the sound of your voice when you talk to me. I can tell you miss me when I’m not around. It’s the same way I look at you, the same way I sound when I’m talking to you, the same way I miss you. This isn’t a figment of my imagination. We have something here. Something real. And you’re throwing it all away, cause you’re scared of commitment. I hope you enjoy going to your stupid parties, coming back home with strangers, having meaningless sex. Because I know when you’re back here, alone, you’ll be thinking about me. When you come back from your fabulous life and you turn into your real self, then you’ll see how empty your life really is. You’ll see how cold this place is. You’ll see there’s nothing for you here. I hope you realise it soon, before it’s too late.”, he said to you, his voice surprisingly calm given the harsh nature of his words. He sat back down on the bed, fully dressed by now, and squeezed your hand. “I’m not trying to be mean. I really care about you and I know you care about me, too. I want to be in your life, Y/N. You just won’t let me.”

“Trust me, Harry, you don’t want that. I know you don’t.”, you said, knowing he wasn’t ready to deal with you. You were trying to protect him from the crazy life you led, from the person you could become in a relationship. You could be possessive, jealous and bitter, sometimes, and you didn’t want that to happen with him. Maybe he was right, you really did care about him.

“There’s nothing more I can say, Y/N. If you aren’t willing to take a risk with us, I can’t bare keeping up with this. I can’t see you again, I can’t talk to you again. It’ll hurt too much.”, he sighed. He leaned over and kissed you softly on the lips, stroking your cheek. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

And just like that he was gone.

...

You felt a single tear running down your cheek and you wiped it away hastily.

His words echoed in your head, their meaning finally sinking in.

You were all alone. You had no one to wait for you to come home. No one to numb the pain. No one to fill the endless silence of your life.  

He was right. You were all alone in your big empty house, thinking about him, wishing he was here with you.

You were so used to lying to yourself, you couldn’t see how sad you were. You told yourself you liked peace and quiet, you liked sleeping on your own every night, you liked waking up to no one next to you in your king sized bed. And Harry had come in your life like a hurricane, destroying your illusions in its path, making your loneliness clear as day to you.

You had him right here, by your side, warming your soul, freeing you from your inhibitions, making you happy. And yet, you couldn’t stop him from leaving.

You were too selfish, too delusional, too afraid. And all you were left with was coming home to quiet.

You were on your own. Truly, desperately, miserably on your own. And there was nothing you could do to change that. 

...

Hey guys! 

I hoped you liked this fic, it took me ages to write and I had to write some parts twice cause my pc crushed and I hadn’t saved it (so stupid, I know.) 

I’d love it if you guys sent me any questions or thoughts you have about this, because I really enjoyed writing it and it always makes my day whenever you guys talk about anything I write to me. I also made my first attempt at writing sort of smut? Let me know if you want me to write a fully smut fic, I’d love to do that but idk if anyone would read it. 

I’m gonna go have an evening of self-care now, I really do need it, tbh. Please please please send me anything at all, I always love hearing from you guys! 

She decided she wouldn’t work at all that weekend, trying to shift her focus on her family and friends for a change. Hence why she spent her Saturday afternoon facetiming her friends from back home, and her Saturday evening out with her friends from Uni. She couldn’t help but smile to herself when she thought back to yesterday, from finding out that her best friend since primary school got a promotion and was going out with someone new, to her own drunken antics, dancing till the early hours of the morning with her relatively newer friends, who at times felt like a second family to her. The headache she felt this morning was truly worth it. It was an eventful day, and now she was ready for a relaxing one, hanging out at her dad’s house.

Sundays were normally reserved for her father’s incredible roast dinner. Over the last couple of years, those Sundays were few and far between, due to her dad’s growing business, so she had learned to appreciate them even more than she did before.

Her dad never cooked anything unless it was a Sunday, meaning that she got to have a much-deserved break from cooking every other day of the week. She shared her father’s love of all things roast dinner, from the crispy potatoes to the gravy, from the Yorkshire pudding to the roast beef, and it all felt like a warm hug to her. She would eat it every night of the week if she could, but she knew that sharing it with her dad every so often made it even more special.

It was a family tradition, reserved just for the two of them, since the death of her mother. She shook her head, trying to avoid thinking about her, but she couldn’t stop the memories from rushing to her. Her mother’s laugh, a crisp, loud sound that made everything else around it inaudible. Her bright blue eyes, with fine wrinkles appearing around them whenever she would squint, which she would do every time her dad would say something that he was bound to regret later. Her dirty blond hair, slightly curly, down to her shoulders, and her warm complexion made her look like she came out of a summer movie, where she’d spent every day at the beach. She was a wonderful mother to her, and she missed her every day. It’d been 6 years since her passing, and it still hurt like it was yesterday.

She sighed, defeated. She had to get it together before making her way over to her dad’s. If there was anything her father knew for sure about her, it was whenever she was sad about her mum. He’d take one look at her and know, and then he’d get sad himself, and they’d spent a couple of hours together feeling miserable, telling stories about her and crying looking at photos. She didn’t want to do that today, not after having spend virtually no quality time with her dad in forever.

She turned her attention to her closet, trying to get her mind off her mother. She went through the hangers, trying to decide what she was going to wear. She settled on a cream-coloured sweater, that was at least one size too big for her, and black leggings. She opted for comfort, knowing that her dad, being his chaotic self, would leave things everywhere, and she’d have to tidy up cause she couldn’t bear being around the mess. Her mum taught her that everything had to have its place in a house, and she took it to heart, making sure that both her house and her dad’s were as clean and tidy as possible at all times.

She faffed around for a bit, trying to kill time till she had to go. She took a painkiller for her headache, had a cup of coffee and a piece of toast, tidied up her makeup that she’d carelessly thrown around while she was hastily getting ready for the night before, cleaned the kitchen a bit, and then watched a couple of episodes of ‘Friends’, her favourite show to watch on a quiet day. At around five o’clock, the usual time she met her dad, she picked up her coat and got out the door. She decided to walk to her dad’s house, since it wasn’t raining for once. It was a mere 10-minute walk away, and the cold air felt amazing against her face, dispersing the remnants of her hangover.

She made her way up to her dad’s apartment, taking the stairs all the way to the fifth floor. She resented exercising, so she chose to keep healthy by walking and taking the stairs instead of the lift. It was working for her so far, seeing as she had quite a fit body, but she knew it wasn’t going to stay that way for long if she kept eating chocolate at this rate. Her love for chocolate wasn’t going anywhere though, so she was trying to convince herself to join a gym.

Her dad heard her coming up the stairs, so he’d already opened the door for her. Normally, he would wait by the door to greet her, but now he was nowhere to be seen. She walked in hesitantly, calling out for her dad.

“Dad? Dad where are you?”

“I’m in the kitchen, Lil.”, he replied, his voice coming from across the room where the kitchen was.

She made her way through the living room to get to him. As she looked around, she noticed that the small flat was unusually clean. There were no shoes by the door, no empty mugs with coffee rings on the dark wood coffee table, no records left out of their box next to the record player on the entertainment unit, no books left open on the otherwise dull, grey couch. The white fluffy rug, that she had bought him as a housewarming present, looked freshly vacuumed and she could smell a hint of air freshener in the air. But, the most unusual of all, there was a long, herringbone-patterned, dark grey coat on the coat hanger and a bouquet of pink and white roses in the, otherwise always empty, dark blue vase on the coffee table.

“That’s it. Dad’s finally got himself a girlfriend.”, she thought to herself, slightly annoyed that he hadn’t said anything about it to her before. They had a really good relationship with each other, she knew she could talk to her dad about anything, and vice versa. Given that she still really missed her mum so much, though, she could understand why he would be hesitant to talk to her about something like this. She didn’t have a problem with her dad moving on, she didn’t want him to stay alone forever. She knew that her mum wouldn’t want that, either. They both just wanted him to be happy, no matter what.

She walked cautiously towards the kitchen, her new trainers, that she bought with her first paycheck from her new job, squeaking against the dark hardwood floors. She walked in, and what, or rather who, she saw in there rendered her speechless.

Harry Styles was in her dad’s kitchen, leaning casually on a counter, a glass of wine next to him.

Her dad was busy chopping up potatoes, so he didn’t notice that his daughter was in the room yet. Harry looked as if he was waiting for her to walk in, though, his eyes fixed on hers as soon as she came around the wall dividing the kitchen from the living room.

Her jaw dropped, and he smiled, looking extremely smug.

“Hey, Lil.”, he said, using her dad’s nickname for her, which she found rather impolite, given that they’d barely spoken to each other in the last couple of months.

She chose not to reply, fearing that she’d stutter in shock.

“Hello, dear. I invited Harry to join us for dinner, hope you don’t mind.”, her dad said, barely glancing her way, too devoted in his task of potato-cutting.

“Sure, I don’t mind. Could’ve used some warning, though”, she muttered, glancing sideways at her dad, hoping to convey her annoyance to him without sounding too rude towards Harry. After all, it wasn’t his fault that she felt uncomfortable being around him. He just happened to be rich and famous and drop-dead gorgeous, and she just happened to be an average girl. It was just the way it was.

“Harry was just telling me the other day how much he missed his mum’s roast, so I told him he could come to ours.”, he explained, trying to guilt her into not giving him any trouble, that’s for sure.

“Yeah, thanks again for the invitation. I don’t get to be around my family that often, so it’s nice to have someplace to be on a Sunday, with good food and good people.”, he said, smiling gratefully at her dad.

All she could think about was how slow he spoke that sentence, enunciating every word. It seemed to put her in a kind of trance. She was quickly pulled out of it though, from her dad basically shoving her out the door, along with Harry himself.

“Now you kids, off you go in the living room, I’ll finish up in here and I’ll come join you. Here, have some wine, Lil.”, he said, and gave her a glass and a wine bottle. Harry was already holding his. They were basically kicked out by her dad and that was extremely unlike him for two reasons. First, he offered her wine when it wasn’t a special occasion, and second, he purposely left her alone, without supervision, with a guy around her age. He was acting exceptionally weird, even for him.

Harry walked in front of her, looking around the room in silence, occasionally taking a sip of wine. She waited for a couple of seconds, and then took a seat on the sofa. She poured herself a superfluous amount of wine, filling her glass nearly to the brim, and then basically chucked half of it down in one go.

“Easy there, it’s still quite early.”, he said, motioning towards the clock hanging on the wall, showing it was merely 5:15 p.m. 

She simply rolled her eyes at his condescending tone, and tried to change the subject.

“So, how come you’ve got nothing better to do on a Sunday?”, she asked, genuinely curious.

“I have loads of things to do. None of them better than this, though.”, he said politely. 

“Yeah, right.”, she scoffed.

“It was pretty fun to witness that, you gotta admit.”, he smiled.

“Witness what?”

“Your face when you saw me.”, he replied, outright laughing at her.

She wanted to ask him not so politely to shut up, but she decided it was better to drink the rest of her wine, and then fill the glass right back up again.

“Lighten up, darling.”, he said nonchalantly. 

 Her eyes widened and she let out a weird noise. Her cheeks instantly flushed in anger. He turned around to look at her, and he was taken aback by the sheer fury portrayed on her face. 

“Don’t call me that. Ever.”, she whispered through her teeth.

“What’s the matter with you? It’s just something I call people. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does to me. Just don’t call me that.”, she said, tears of sadness and anger threatening to leave her eyes.

“And may I ask why?”, he asked, genuinely curious as to what might have caused that reaction.

“No, you may not.”

“Then you can’t expect me to comply, my darling.”, he said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Just stop, okay?”, she pleaded, hoping he’d take her seriously.

“Fine.”, he said, finally giving up.

She tried to compose herself, knowing that she’d probably overreacted, but hearing him call her that made her emotional. She couldn’t help it. That word meant something more to her.

He had turned his back on her, focusing his attention to her dad’s record collection. He was flipping through the records, pausing to read some of the song titles, and then kept going. Eventually, he found one he liked, and put it on the record player, a cheeky grin on his face when he turned to look at her. She instantly knew he was up to something.

The sound of the first notes coming out of the record player was met with an instant recognition from her part. It was one of her favourite songs. A song that she hadn’t heard in six years. A song she heard for the last time the day her mum died. She chose to play it and cry her eyes out, and then swore she’d try not to listen to it again. And that was the case, until now. Because of him.

He started swaying rhythmically to the music, and sang along, his melodic voice matching the tone of the song perfectly.

“Here comes the sun

Here comes the sun, and I say

It's all right”

She could feel her self-control slipping out of her grasp, as she started tearing up. His smile faded into concern immediately, and he stopped singing.

“Little darling, 

it's been a long cold lonely winter”

“What’s wrong?”, he asked, flabbergasted.

“Please turn it off.”, she whispered, barely audible.

“Little darling, 

it feels like years since it's been here”

“Why, what’s the matter?”, he asked.

“Please. Before my dad hears.”, she replied, desperation and sadness evident in her expression.

“Here comes the sun

Here comes the sun, and I say-“

The music stopped abruptly. They stood there in silence. Harry didn’t know how to handle the situation, since he couldn’t even fathom the reason for her outburst. She was sobbing quietly, waiting to see if her dad had heard what was going on. She moved slowly closer to the kitchen, and tried her best to listen through her crying. It sounded like her dad had put on some classical music from his phone, his favourite to listen to as he was cooking. She sighed in relief. He couldn’t have heard.

“What the hell is going on, Lily?”, an exasperated Harry asked. “I’m just taking the piss. You don’t have to cry about it.”

“My mum used to call me darling. She used to play that song for me all the time on her guitar. She died six years ago.”, she explained.

Harry gasped audibly, bringing his hands to his face.

“I’m so sorry. I’m such a dickhead.”

“Yeah, you are.”, she agreed, sort of cry-laughing.

He made his way towards her and wrapped his arms tightly around her. Normally, that would’ve mortified her, but she felt like that’s exactly what she needed at that moment in time.

She sobbed on his shoulder for what felt like an eternity. He just stood there, holding her tight. She couldn’t help but notice that he smelled heavenly. His arms felt hard as stone, and yet somehow soft at the same time.

She was able to calm herself down enough, and then stepped out of his embrace reluctantly.

“I’m really sorry, love. I had no idea.”, he said sincerely.

“It’s okay, I know. It’s just hard.”

“I’m sure it is.”, he said, smiling reassuringly at her. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“You know, I’d typically say no, but I feel like talking to you might not be such a bad idea.”, she replied honestly. She felt like talking about her mum today, and she knew she couldn’t do that with her dad without ruining the evening.

He pointed at the sofa and motioned for her to take a seat. They sat next to each other, and he turned his body to face her, while she remained looking forward.

“It was cancer. We found out literally 2 months before she was gone. In a way I was glad it didn’t take long. She didn’t have to suffer for a long time. It just makes me so sad that I never get to see her again, you know? I mean, death is unavoidable and all, but I don’t think anyone realises, not until they lose someone. I never get to see my mum again. I never get to talk to her again. She’s gone. Just like that.” She placed her head in her hands. She felt his hand on her back, stroking her soothingly.

“That must’ve been awful. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. Is it just you and your dad, then?”

“Yeah, just us. My dad took it really hard, so I try to avoid talking about it, you know. That’s why I didn’t want him to hear.”

“I understand. Thank you for telling me this.”, he said.

“Thanks for listening. It helps.”. She turned around and looked at him. His hand was still on her back, and he smiled sympathetically at her.

“So, are we like friends now?”, he asked, grinning.

“Yeah, sure, Harry Styles, we are friends.”, she said, rolling her eyes at him.

“I’m being serious.”, he replied.

“Why would you want to be my friend?”, she asked. “You’re Harry Styles.”. 

“And you’re Lily Davis. So what?”, he simply said.

“We can’t possibly be friends, Harry. It wouldn’t work. You’re rich and famous and charming and I’m just me. Borderline boring.”, she blurted. 

She couldn’t take him seriously.

“You think I’m charming?”, he asked, smiling from ear to ear.

“That’s what you got from that?”, she said, rolling her eyes.

“Pretty much. Everything else was simply ridiculous.”

“Oh, stop it, Harry. You know what I’m talking about.”

“All that doesn’t matter. I like you. I think you’re funny and interesting. So, I’d like us to be friends. There’s nothing more to it. It’s that simple.”, he explained.

“You really want to be my friend?”, she asked, shocked.

“Yes!”, he exclaimed. “How many times should I say it?”

“A few more wouldn’t hurt.”, she laughed.

He took her hands in his, and looked into her eyes.

“Lily Davis, will you please consider being my friend?”, he asked her sincerely. She knew he really meant it, and she was fluttered that anyone would want to be friends with her, and even more so given that person was Harry Styles.

“Okay, I will be your friend. But consider yourself warned. You might get bored of me real soon.”

“I highly doubt that.”, he said, a dazzling smile forming on his lips at her reply.

She rolled her eyes at him again. She seemed to be doing a lot of that at him. He must’ve found it amusing, cause he laughed at her.

“You know, I hope someday you’d be fine with me calling you darling. I like calling you that. But I won’t do it again until you’ll ready.”, he said.

“I hope so, too, Harry. I hope so, too.”, she sighed.

At least she had gained a new friend today, no matter how fleeting that friendship might be. He seemed like a genuinely good person, and she needed good people in her life. And she’d bet he needed good people in his, as well.

She realised that he was still holding her hands in his, and she felt a bit awkward. He must’ve caught her looking at their hands, so he let go.

In retrospect, she should’ve realised she would’ve wanted to be more than friends, because at that moment she wished he hadn’t let go.

And now she wishes she would’ve realised how amazing that moment was sooner. And she would’ve never let him go. 

...

Hey guys!

Missed me? 

Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and so sorry for making you wait this long for it. My life’s been such a mess lately, so I haven’t had the time to properly sit down and write. I’m back though! 

Thanks for reading, it really means a lot to me. Please let me know what you think, I always love hearing back from you guys.

See you soon.

She came home about an hour later, finding Harry sitting on the sofa still, his guitar in his hands, playing a song she didn’t recognise, effortlessly perfect by now, seeing as he was quite quick in learning through music. The house was a mess, Harry’s stuff everywhere, his dirty shoes on the fluffy grayish carpet and his socks thrown mindlessly, one on the edge of the sofa and the other about five feet away, right in front of the entrance. He had sheets of music thrown about everywhere around him and his laptop on the coffee table, the arrangement she worked so long on two nights ago, trying to match candles and fake flowers together, all messed up cause he pushed it back, making some parts of it fall on the ground. A mug of old coffee was next to it, no doubt there from earlier this morning when Harry had his daily dose of caffeine after spending the night with her.

She wasn’t that bothered about it, though, cause the look on Harry’s face as he concentrated on nailing the chords and the sweet soft music coming from strumming his guitar with his long fingers made her immediately forget all about her hard day at work and how tired she was. She actually stopped in her tracks, opening her mouth and instantly closing it again, to avoid complaining about the state of her home that she left clean and tidy no later than this morning.

Today was a special day for her, and she couldn’t wait to see what Harry had planned for their evening. It was their first anniversary together, and judging by how romantic Harry was she had high expectations. It was exactly one year ago that he asked her to be his girlfriend on the rooftop of this very building on a starry winter’s night, and it was one of the happiest moments of her life. Since then, their relationship grew stronger each day, and they both grew along with it, without losing their fun loving life attitude, making them perfect for each other. There was no fuss about it, it just came easy to them, loving each other. They both allowed each other some space they both craved from time to time, being equally independent people, but they still remained as close as ever, showing their love and affection freely. That was the case up until about one month ago.

Lately, she felt a little bit like that forgotten mug of cold coffee. Harry was busy working on planning the promotion and tour of his new album, one that had many songs written about her that she got to listen to what felt like a lifetime ago. He had a lot of early mornings and late evenings in the past month, and he barely had time to spare for them to go out for dinner or to the movies, which they always loved to do. He spent more and more time at his house, and sometimes their only communication was through a few short texts. It got particularly bad this week, since he hadn’t even texted good morning or goodnight to her for two consecutive days, even though she did, and he hadn’t said ‘I love you’ to her at all. To be fair, though, she hadn’t said it either, mostly in retaliation, since she wasn’t a person that would confront someone about something that bothered them easily, even if that someone was her boyfriend.

When Harry told her that he had two nights off and he would spend them at her flat, she was over the moon about it, thinking that he had planned something already, any doubts that had begun forming in her head about where their relationship was heading gone. Since she absolutely loved surprises, she didn’t talk to him about it at all, hoping it would be a magical evening, one that they both desperately needed.

Harry was so engrossed in his playing that he didn’t even hear her walk in, so when she spoke in greeting he got startled.

“Hello, love.”, she said affectionately as she put her bag and coat away.

“Hi, darling. Didn’t see you there.”, Harry said, placing the guitar down finally.

She walked across the room and sat next to him on the sofa, tossing away some of the papers Harry was looking at in the process. She kissed his cheek as if in a hurry, and waited for him to say something.

“What’s up?”, he asked, surprised by her strange behaviour, as she sat quietly looking at him, which was highly unusual for her, since she would normally tell him all about her day the moment she walked in.

“Nothing much. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing, just sitting around.”, he replied nonchalantly.

“Is there something you’d like to say to me?”, she asked, after a few awkward moments of silence.

“No, not really. The meeting went well. I’m just glad to be able to just do nothing for the rest of the evening.”

“Oh.”, she said, not even trying to hide the disappointment in her voice. It was clear to her now that he had forgotten all about today.

“What’s the matter, love?”, Harry asked, knowing her well enough by now to realise that something was wrong instantly.

“Nothing.”, she stated flatly, all emotion stripped from her voice. She was trying not to show how upset she was, since she was really nervous to start a fight with Harry. For the whole year they never fought properly, not even once, only bickering about who had to wash the dishes and what show they would watch, but nothing as serious as this. He had forgotten about their anniversary, and to her it felt a lot like he had simply forgotten about her. He kept overlooking her, deciding she would have to step aside and make room for him to focus on work, and then maybe he would pick her up again, like a childhood hobby or a book he only got halfway through before getting bored of it. She kept staring at the mug, that damn morning coffee mug she couldn’t help but see herself as, and the anger inside her kept rising. She felt like throwing it against the wall and shatter it to a million little pieces, just like her heart got broken by him so carelessly.

Harry stayed quiet, observing her. Her face remained expressionless, but there was a fire lit in her eyes, a fire he had never witnessed before. It scared him a bit, to be quite honest.

She waited for him to say something, and when he didn’t, she couldn’t help but tear up. She always cried when she was angry, making it almost impossible for her to win an argument, even at times like these when she wasn’t to blame.

“Are you crying?”, Harry asked, even though it was obvious to him that she was welling up.

“Yes, Harry, I’m fucking crying.”, she stormed, deciding that she had enough of this.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”, he exasperated, still clueless as to why she exploded like that.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Harry? It’s our fucking anniversary today and you forgot!”, she screamed, suddenly rising from the sofa and walking rapidly towards the bedroom.

Realisation hit Harry like a ton of bricks. He totally forgot about it, even though he had made a mental note a few weeks prior to make plans for the day. He immediately understood her rage, but he didn’t feel he was at fault. He simply forgot, and given his hectic work schedule he though it was more than understandable.

“Oh my god, it completely slipped my mind! I swear I didn’t do it on purpose.”, he said chasing after her, catching up to her and grabbing her arm, trying to stop her from getting away from him. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear. There’s still time, let me take you somewhere nice.”

“Let go of my arm.”, she growled, not believing what she was hearing. He couldn’t even admit he was wrong.

“No, not until you tell me it’s okay.”, he insisted.

“It’s not fucking okay. Let go of my arm, Harry.”

His hand dropped instantly, her harsh words stunning him. He thought everything would be fine, that she would realise it was a stupid mistake and just let it go. But she didn’t. And it didn’t look like she would anytime soon.

As soon as he let go of her she ran to the bedroom, locking the door behind her. Harry rushed after her, banging on the door, begging her to let him in.

“Come on, love, don’t be like that. Let me in and we can talk it out. I didn’t mean to do it, I was just working so much, I have a lot on my plate. It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s not a big deal? Do you even hear yourself, Harry?”, she screamed from behind the closed door, tears streaming freely down her face by now, as she sat on the bed defeated. “It’s our first anniversary. It was supposed to be special. You forgot and now you expect me to be fine with it. Why can’t you just say you’re fucking sorry for once?”

Harry froze in place. She wanted him to be sorry. No, Harry wasn’t going to be sorry. He wasn’t that person. He believed that everything happened for a reason and he wouldn’t apologise for simply forgetting a date. He also believed that people had to compromise in a relationship. That one person had to be the one saying sorry first in arguments, in order for it to work. And he wouldn’t be that person for anyone. He learned the hard way that he had to stand up for himself, that he didn’t have to justify his actions to anyone. That’s just who he was, and she simply had to find a way to deal with that.

“Why do I have to be sorry? I just forgot!”, he insisted, causing her to want to hit him, and she was glad there was a locked door between them.

“Oh, that’s right. Harry Styles can’t be sorry about anything. Harry Styles can do no wrong. He’s allowed to forget our anniversary, cause he’s a fucking pop star. He’s allowed to go days without talking to me. He’s allowed to not say I love you to me anymore and just toss me aside until his work is done, cause he’s Mr Perfect and I’m lucky to have him. You know what, though? I don’t give a shit about Harry Styles. I just want my Harry back.”, she said, chocking on the last sentence, barely holding it together.

“You know I’m not like that with you. I’m just me.”, he said quietly, trying to calm her down.

“Then why can’t you just say it, Harry? Is your ego really that big? Are you so proud that you’re not willing to fight for me? For us?”, she asked, her voice now lower in volume, not finding the strength in her to fight back anymore.

Harry thought about what he was going to say very carefully. He didn’t want to admit he was too proud to say sorry, but he knew deep down that he was.

“I’m.. I’m sorry you feel that way.”, he finally managed to say, his voice so quiet she barely heard it through the closed door, and she so badly wished she hadn’t.

She got up in a flash and opened the door. She found him standing on the other side, mouth agape with surprise that she finally gave in.

“You know what, Harry? You’re a fucking coward. You are scared to be vulnerable, after all we’ve been through this past year. It’s hard to be sorry, I know. But, it’s even harder for me to say this, and I’m tired of being the only one willing to be 100% in this relationship. Get out of my house. Now.”, she said seriously, but her eyes remained dry, since she had no more tears left in her. He took them all from her, and she had nothing else to give him.

And just like that Harry turned around and left, not another word to spare.

Now, he was driving around aimlessly, waiting for her to call. He was sure she would be the one to give in first, she would be the one to say sorry for acting like a lunatic over something that seemed so easily solvable. It wasn’t the end for them and Harry knew it. If only she could stop being so stubborn and understand that it wasn’t really his fault and make everything go back to normal.

Everything was fine just a few hours ago. Why did she have to ruin it? He could take her out, he could buy her flowers. It wasn’t over yet, they couldn’t be over just like that.

Harry knew he messed up, he wasn’t stupid. He could see that he hurt her, but it wasn’t his intention. He was sure her words hurt him more than everything he did to her, but he was willing to let that go, if she just picked up the damned phone and called him.

They were so good together, having so much fun. And Harry loved her, more than anything in the world. She was home to him, and it couldn’t end like this. She had to understand, she had to see how foolish this whole thing was. She had to stop acting like a child and come back to him. 

Could this be the end? Could they just lose everything because of him? Should he just give up, let go of his pride and ego and say what she wanted to hear? Should he just say sorry every time something went wrong so he wouldn’t lose her?

No, that wasn’t him. She had to understand. She just had to.

Harry wasn’t going to be the person saying sorry, not for her, not for anyone.

Continued in Part Two

Well, that was that. I hope you don’t hate me for making Harry the bad guy in this, but yeah, it just had to be done.

Please, please, please let me know what you think, I really love it when I get feedback from you lovelies.

She was lying in her bed, curled up in a ball, covered with her duvet. She wanted to cry, but tears wouldn’t come out of her eyes. She felt dry, dry of tears, dry of emotions. She heard her phone ringing multiple times, but knowing it was Harry she couldn’t answer yet. She couldn’t bring herself to face him, after how much he hurt her. She felt like he didn’t care about her feelings, that he expected her to be fine no matter what. But, she knew it wasn’t always like this and that hurt her even more. She couldn’t understand what had gotten into him lately, since she was used to him being so considerate and kind to her. Maybe he got bored of her, maybe they were stuck in a rut. She tried to gather her thoughts, to figure out what she was going to do about this, but her mind kept drifting back to the same image. The image of Harry asking her to be his girlfriend, exactly one year ago.

...

They were casually going out for about two weeks now. They were having so much fun together, talking for hours, laughing constantly. They had quite a lot in common, surprisingly. She was the happiest she’d been in a long while, and Harry felt like he could be completely himself around her. She got butterflies in her stomach every time she saw him and sparks flew around her every time they kissed. They had unbelievable chemistry in bed, a fact they discovered just a couple of days ago, since she wanted to wait a bit before having sex with him. He was a complete gentleman about it, though, spending the night with her, cooking her breakfast and sending her flowers later that afternoon. She felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

She had invited him over at her place that night, to make him a romantic candlelit dinner, trying to impress him with her cooking skills. They spent hours eating, sipping on wine and talking about everything and anything. Harry was being extra affectionate, complimenting her constantly on how delicious the food was, giving her random little kisses everywhere and telling her how pretty she looked. So, she decided to amp up the romance by taking him to her secret hiding place, the rooftop that is.

She had discovered randomly that the door leading up to the roof was unlocked a couple days after she moved here, and she’d been going up there ever since when she wanted to get away from her thoughts. She could be such an overthinker sometimes, driving herself mad, and being outside in the fresh air looking at the sky helped clear her mind.

They put their coats on and she took Harry by the hand, leading him. They took the lift to the top floor and then went up the staircase leading on the roof. She opened the door at the end of the stairs and heard Harry gasp as soon as they stepped out, causing her to giggle. It was getting pretty late, so most houses had their lights off, making some of the stars visible. They could see almost the whole of London from up there, since her apartment building was quite high up.

“Wow. This is quite a view.”, Harry said, and she nodded, smiling.

“I know. I love it up here.”

“And rightly so.”, he said, smiling back at her. She loved it when he smiled at her like that, all sweet, dimples showing and eyes glinting.

She walked to the edge of the rooftop, placing the palms of her hands on the low wall and staring dreamily at the city skyline. Harry followed and stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his head at the nook of her neck. The roads were pretty quiet, considering the late hour, just as she liked it to be. It was quite nippy out, with the cold breeze hitting her face, but Harry was keeping her warm in his arms. They stayed like that for a few minutes, enjoying the view and each other’s company, and then Harry finally spoke.

“You look so good in this dress. Can’t wait to take it off you later.”

“Harry!”, she gasped, slapping him playfully on the arm.

“Don’t act all innocent, I know what you’ve been trying to do all night.”, he said cheekily.

“Really? And what have I been trying to do, then?”, she asked, a playful tone in her voice.

“You made me dinner, you lit candles, gave me wine. You took me up to the roof, showed me the stars. Wore this fucking tease of a dress. You’re trying to get me in the sack.”, he explained.

She couldn’t help but laugh, and replied, “Didn’t know I had to try that hard, babe.”

“You’re probably right.”, Harry laughed along with her.

They stayed quiet for a couple of minutes, and then he spoke again.

“You know, I’ve been having a lot of fun the past couple of weeks with you.”

“I’ve been having a lot of fun myself.”, she replied honestly.

“And I’ve discovered that you’re a pretty amazing human being.”, he continued, his tone turning serious.

She turned around to look at him in surprise at this sudden mood change, and he took her hands in his. She wondered where he was getting at, so she didn’t say anything, waiting for him to get to the point. His eyes searched for hers, and when she made eye contact, he smiled at her.

“I think we might’ve been made for each other.”, he said, and she felt like the whole world was spinning around her. Her mouth dropped and she gasped, as she wasn’t expecting those words to come out of his mouth. She could literally feel the blood rushing to her head, her cheeks flushing.

“I love it when you get all flustered like that.”, he chuckled, brushing his fingertips on her cheek.

“Harry, I-”, she started saying, but he interrupted her.

“Let me finish, darling. I need to say this before you get too embarrassed and try to stop me. You’re everything I’ve been looking for in a woman. You’re so clever, you don’t even know it. You make me laugh so much. You’re so beautiful. And the best sex I’ve ever had, might I add.”, he said, and she giggled, her face turning even more red.

“You let me be myself around you, and you don’t care about my money or my fame. I can tell you don’t.”, Harry continued, turning serious again. “You just get me. The real me. And I feel like it’s time we make this official, since I’m not letting you go, now that I’ve found you. Will you be my girlfriend?”

She was dumbfounded, unable to speak. She knew she wanted to say yes, but she couldn’t find the words. Harry’s face dropped when she didn’t reply instantly, his eyes saddening, making her snap out of it.

“Yes! Yes I will!”, she rushed, before he could jump to conclusions.

Harry smiled wider than she’d ever seen him smile, and he leaned in to kiss her. It started quite soft, his lips barely touching hers, then slowly it turned into more. He was kissing her with passion, sucking and biting her lower lip at times. His hands were roaming her body under her coat, and she could tell that he was turned on.

He broke the kiss abruptly, taking her by the hand, and started walking hastily towards the door, with her following suit.

“Where are we going, Harry?”, she asked, surprised that he was dragging her around, still following behind him, though.

“Back in your flat. Unless you want me to rip that dress off you right here and now and we end up freezing our asses off.”, he explained, and she laughed loudly, knowing full well where the night was heading.

...

She was fully under the covers by now, clutching onto them desperately, as she finally managed to cry again. That memory of the happiest day they’ve had shocked her to the core, after she compared it to earlier today. Harry used to be so sweet, so loving, trying constantly to make her happy, never complaisant in their relationship. What the hell happened to them? She couldn’t understand how it could go so wrong in a day.

Now that she was thinking a bit more clearly, though, she could see it wasn’t just a day. It was a whole two months. It started with him having to work more, and then them not going out as much. They spent time apart, and they didn’t seem to mind it anymore. It was on her, too, because she hadn’t said anything earlier. She could’ve said something when he stopped texting her back as much, or when he spent all that time at his house, or when he didn’t say ‘I love you’ anymore. And yet, she didn’t, so afraid to start a fight, so hopeful it would all be fine in the end, so reliant on this day for him to make up for the last two months. And when he didn’t, it broke her heart. Maybe they weren’t made for each other, after all.

She was so caught up in her thoughts, she didn’t hear Harry opening the door with his spare key. He was fed up, furious that she wouldn’t answer the phone, and a bit worried about her, so he decided to get out of his car and come find her, even though she had kicked him out a few hours ago. He saw her lying in bed, completely covered up, so he knocked even though the door was open, to avoid startling her.

She peeked up from under the sheets and saw him standing there. She tried not to get her hopes up, thinking that he came back to apologise, but she couldn’t help herself.

“Hi.”, she said, her voice barely audible.

“Why haven’t you answered my calls? I was worried.”, he asked, a slight edge to his voice letting her know he wouldn’t be apologising any time soon.

“I didn’t want to speak to you.”, she said, getting back under the covers.

“Stop acting like a baby and fucking look at me when I’m talking to you.”, he exclaimed, feeling so stupid for coming to see if she was okay. He should’ve left her alone, maybe then she’d stop for a second and think about what she was asking of him.

She wiped her tears away and pushed the covers off her. She wasn’t gonna let him put her down, even if she would end up crying again.

“Don’t talk to me like that.”, she glared at him, her face flushing with instant anger.

“I can’t believe you’re still mad about this.”, he sighed, holding his head in his hands.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Harry? What do you want from me? To just magically be okay after a couple of hours?”

“Well, I was hoping you’d come to your senses by now and realise how fucking stupid this whole thing is.”, he replied, his voice rising again.

“Oh, I see. My feelings are stupid now.”, she said, challenging him.

“Stop twisting around everything I say! This whole fight is stupid. We’re fighting cause I forgot a date. Do you realise how ridiculous this is?”

“Don’t you get that this is more than just a date, Harry? It’s about us drifting further and further apart the last couple of months. It’s about me being second to your work. It’s about you not being able to fucking apologise to your girlfriend after doing something wrong. How can you not see that?”

“Now you’re just making shit up.”, he exclaimed. Sure, he knew that he had been working a lot lately, but he expected her to understand that it didn’t mean he didn’t care about her anymore. As for the whole being sorry thing, Harry wasn’t changing his mind anytime soon.

“You know what? If you don’t get that this is more than just about a date, then maybe we should end this whole thing, since I’m not even worth the fight for you.”, she said, defeated.

“Maybe we fucking should!”, he said, and she gasped. She expected him to cuss her out for saying that, or maybe even try to console her, but definitely not agree with her.

Harry stopped for a second to think about what he had just said. He regretted it immediately, cursing himself for being so impulsive and letting her get to his head. It was their first big fight, but definitely not a reason to break up.

“I didn’t mean that.”, he said, trying to take it back.

“Get out.”, she stated. She wasn’t having any of it. If he even for a second thought they should break up, then he could go ahead and leave. She was done with putting up with his ego.

“But-”, he started to say, but she interrupted him.

“Get out now. I don’t want to see you again, Harry. I’m done trying. Get out and leave your key on the counter.”, she said coldly, trying to keep her head up and not cry again in front of him.

“If that’s how you feel.”, Harry said, and turned slowly to leave. He expected her to tell him to come back, tell him he was right, it was stupid and they should stop fighting, but she didn’t. So, Harry left his key on the counter, like she told him, and left her behind, a sobbing, broken mess, but with her head held high.

Continued in Part three

Oh my God, this was an emotional roller coaster. I’m sorry for doing this to you guys, but trust me I’m suffering as well.

I’m thinking about turning this into a series, so I gave a bit more of a background story to their relationship. Please let me know what you think, the response on part one was so amazing, let’s keep it going.

Hope you enjoyed it.

By day five, he started getting angry. How could she ignore him for all these days? Didn’t she care for him? Didn’t she miss him? Was their whole relationship a lie? He just wanted her to talk to him. Just pick up the damn phone and give him a call. And he would run back to her, run as fast as he could, as far as she asked of him. She just had to take the first step.

He never stopped to wonder why, though. Why did she have to call him? Why couldn’t he call first? Why was it so important to him? If he had, he might’ve realised sooner rather than later, that he was letting his ego get in the way of his relationship. But alas, Harry couldn’t see past the fog of pride that clouded his judgement. So, he kept himself busy with business meetings and outfit designs and tour dates, and in the evenings he stewed in his anger, at his house, all alone.

What Harry didn’t know though, was that she was a complete and utter mess, after he got up and left that dreadful day. She cried herself to sleep every night, she listened to every sad breakup song there ever was, she wore his hoodies so she could smell like him. She called all her friends, she talked about him for hours. And even though she would like nothing more than to call him and ask him to come back, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She couldn’t forgive him without being asked for her forgiveness, she couldn’t find reasons to justify his actions without being given any by him, she couldn’t just wish this to go away.

And so, seven days after the breakup, seeing as he wouldn’t even try to fix the situation, she had to come to terms with the finality of it. She took a look around her house, realising that he was everywhere around her. He was in her spare closet, his clothes folded messily in it. He was in her bathroom, his toothbrush next to hers, his special shampoo that smelled like sandalwood in the shower. He was in the ugly shoes in the corner of her bedroom and his favourite stupid baker hat hanging from her desk chair. He was in his guitar, the one that was bought specifically to stay at her house, the one he serenaded her multiple times with, the one she often heard before even opening her front door, welcoming her home. He was in the music sheets, the guitar picks, the notebook where he wrote little poems and song lyrics. He was in that inexcusably expensive coffee brand he loved so much, and his favourite mug that she got him. So, she got a couple of cardboard boxes and started packing, gathering his stuff from everywhere he left them, putting them, and him, away forever.

She managed to remain composed and not cry as she was doing this, but as she was looking around for anything else she might have forgotten, she found a little red jewellery box with a bow on it, hidden in the drawer of her bedside table. It was the present she got him for their anniversary that she had forgotten all about. She rummaged in the drawer a bit more, and found the card she wrote to go with it, tears running down her cheeks as she read it.

‘Happy anniversary, my love!

Can’t believe it’s been a year already, I still remember that night on the rooftop as if it were yesterday. Even though I couldn’t say for sure at the time, I can now say that I definitely agree with you. We might’ve been made for each other, darling, and I’m so glad we found each other. Thank you for putting up with me when I get all cranky, and for always making me a cup of tea when I ask you to. Thank you for writing songs about me and singing them with your angelic voice. Thank you for being the best boyfriend I could ever wish for. You make me so happy, love, you really do. Here’s to another year together, and many more to come hopefully.

Love you so so so much,

Your baby.”

She put the card back in the envelope slowly, shoving it inside the drawer and shutting it quite forcefully. She wanted to tear it up, but she knew she would regret it later. She might’ve been hurt by him, but she didn’t wish she could forget him. They had so many great memories together, and she wouldn’t change any of it, except maybe that last fight. She just had to find the strength to move on without him, before she lost herself, and she knew it would be the hardest thing she ever had to do.

She pulled herself together and picked up a piece of paper from her desk, writing something on it and putting it in the red box. She then taped it on top of one of the closed cardboard boxes. She knew Harry wouldn’t be at his house, but someone ought to have been there, either a cleaning lady, a security guard or one of his assistant’s. So, she packed the boxes in her car and drove to his place, to leave him behind once and for all.

...

Harry came back home a lot later than usual. He spent around three hours at the gym, boxing. It helped him a lot to release some of his pent up frustration, which was mostly aimed at her. He dreaded coming back, especially tonight, cause he caught himself thinking about her all day. He was starting to miss her a lot, a lot more than he had anticipated. He kept looking at her Instagram page, refreshing it constantly, hoping she would post a new picture or a story, just to see her face. She hadn’t, though, so he spent his entire lunch break looking at old pictures of them on his phone, not able to eat at all. He was marveling at her smile, how beautiful it was, and how even though it was just a picture and he knew they weren’t on speaking terms, it still managed to captivate him. That made him even more angry, that she had such a strong hold on him.

He knew he was about to cave and call her, so he decided to spend as much time as possible at the gym, only returning home when it finally had to close for the night. He punched harder than he ever did that day, sweat running down his forehead and dropping in his eyes, but he never stopped for a second. Even his trainer told him to take it slow, but he wasn’t listening to anyone but that voice in his head that told him how angry he was at her. He returned home significantly less upset, thinking he would be so tired, he would just take a shower and pass out.

That wasn’t the case, however, as he discovered as soon as he entered through his door. He found two big cardboard boxes shoved in a corner, along with a note on top of them and a guitar in its case leaning on them. He recognised the handwriting on the note as his personal assistant’s, who was running some errands for him all day from his house.

It read, ‘Y/N came over, left these for you.’

Those few words were enough to break his heart. He knew exactly what was in those boxes, judging by the guitar that was next to them. She brought all his stuff from her flat, when she knew he wasn’t going to be home.

It was really over.

He noticed a small red jewellery box under the note from his assistant, which he didn’t recognise as his. He opened it curiously, and found a silver ring inside, placed on a black velvet pillow, and a folded piece of paper to the side. The ring was silver, with a thick band that had an intricate design etched on it. It looked like waves to him, but he couldn’t be sure. It was a very delicate design, not resembling anything strongly, but it was definitely beautifully made. He picked it up in his hands, and he noticed it had an engraving on the inside of the band. He brought it closer to his face and saw that it said, ‘My love for you’. Now he was sure that the design was of waves, and she was saying with it that her love for him was as big as the ocean.

He wore it immediately, finding out that it was a perfect fit for him, so she must’ve measured one of the rings he already owned. She must’ve planned this for ages, it was definitely custom made and it must’ve cost her a fortune. His hands started shaking, as he picked up the note and unfolded it. He couldn’t help but hear her voice as he read it.

‘Happy anniversary, a bit too late. Thanks for the memories. I’ll never forget you.’

That was a bit too much for Harry, and for the first time in a while, he couldn’t hold it together. He sat on the floor right where he was, holding the note in his hands, rereading it, as he was sobbing. This was really the end for them. He had lost her forever. And it was all his fault.

He must’ve hurt her so much, he could sense the pain and disappointment in her words. How could he have been such an idiot? It was clear to him that she loved him, and that this anniversary had meant a lot to her. She went through all this trouble to pick out a present for him, the most beautiful ring he’d ever seen. And he couldn’t even remember the date.

He was shaking uncontrollably, his tears making it impossible for him to read the note anymore.

He had to find a way to fix this. He couldn’t let her go just like that. He couldn’t lose the love of his life without a fight.

He just hoped he wasn’t too late.

Continued in Part Four

Hey lovelies!

This took me ages to write, hope you enjoyed it! Do you think Harry’s too late? Can Y/N forgive him?

In other news, I have an exam on Monday and it’s the hardest of my life so far and I’m definitely going to fail it, so if you have anything nice to say about this story it would cheer me up, so please do so!

Hope you’re having a better day than I am.