Let It Happen [ ▸ ] 𝗛𝗮𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝗟𝗲𝘄𝗶𝘀 ⁰²
"𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾, 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾'𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖨 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖭𝗈𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝖾 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖺 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗌. 𝖭𝗈𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗆𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗍. 𝖭𝗈𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾."
[ ▸ ] ⋆masterlist ⋆Let It Happen Playlist
✩ real life
✩ harry lewis x oc
⬅previous • next➡
Summary: Both Harry and Aline deal with seeing each other for the first time after 10 years.
Author's note: This is more of a filler chapter, so not much is going on. Next one is gonna be soooo worth it, tho, in my eyes at least. Hope you guys like it, let me know what you think
𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒕
𝖽𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝖺𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗆𝗒 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾
The hospital doors hissed shut behind them, sealing off the faint beeping and sterile scent that clung to every corridor. Outside, the light was thin and cold, late afternoon softening toward evening. The Sidemen lingered on the steps in a loose, uneven circle, hands buried in their pockets, the silence between them heavier than it should have been after a charity visit.
Harry stared at the ground, thumbs hooked in his hoodie’s pocket, shoulders drawn in. He’d come to make children smile, to brighten someone else’s day, but somewhere between the laughter and the goodbyes, he’d watched a woman he once knew better than himself look straight through him.
Alina had been polite. Professional. Cold in a way that left bruises. She hadn’t yelled. She hadn’t needed to.
“Alright,” Josh said finally, voice breaking through the quiet. “Am I crazy, or was that doctor really weird with you?”
Harry’s stomach dropped. He’d prayed they wouldn’t notice.
Simon gave him a sidelong glance. “Yeah, man. You know her?”
Harry tried for casual and missed. “It’s nothing.”
None of them bought it.
He shifted, scuffed his shoe against the pavement, the words catching in his throat. “It’s… complicated.”
A pause, then a sigh. “She’s from Guernsey. We grew up together.”
Ethan frowned. “You never mentioned her.”
“Yeah.” Harry’s voice thinned. “It’s been a long time. She was my best friend. We were—” his jaw tightened, “—together. Before I left for London.”
Josh let out a low whistle. “Well. That explains the arctic chill.”
Tobi clapped him lightly on the back. “You gonna talk to her?”
Harry shook his head. “She doesn’t want to hear anything I have to say.”
“You don’t know that,” Vik offered quietly.
“I do,” Harry said, voice final.
He turned toward the parking lot. The air had cooled into that uncertain hour between day and night, when the sky turned blue-grey and the world began to dim. Behind him, the others fell into quiet conversation, but Harry kept walking. He didn’t look back.
Alina shoved her scrubs into her locker with a force that rattled the metal. The clang echoed too loudly, slicing through the hum of the hospital. Around her, life carried on — nurses swapped shifts, wheels rolled down the hall, monitors beeped on. It was early evening now, the sharp edges of the day softening into the rhythm of the night shift.
She was angry. At him for showing up. At herself for caring that he had. Ten years should have dulled everything — his voice, the way her stomach twisted when he said her name, the image of his face the day he left. But none of it had faded. Her pulse betrayed her; it still remembered.
The air outside had turned cool and violet. She crossed the empty service road and found a bench beneath a flickering streetlamp in the small park beside the hospital. The world was still except for the distant hum of traffic and the rustle of leaves. Peaceful, if she hadn’t been living inside a noise that only she could hear.
Her phone felt heavy. She called before she could talk herself out of it.
“Love?” her mother’s voice came warm and faintly breathless, like she’d been in the middle of folding laundry. “Everything alright?”
Alina closed her eyes. “Yeah. I just… wanted to hear your voice.”
The pause that followed was patient, expectant. “Tell me,” her mother said softly.
“Tell you what?”
“Whatever made you call me in the middle of your shift,” came the calm reply. “You never call without a reason.”
Alina leaned back, the streetlamp’s light brushing her cheek. “He came to the hospital today. Part of a celebrity visit for the kids.”
A small silence. “Who?”
“Harry.” The name cracked slightly. “He called me Nina.”
Her laugh was dry, humourless. “Like no time had passed.”
“And how did that feel?” her mother asked gently.
“I don’t know,” Alina admitted. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel.”
“You don’t have to know,” her mother said. Then, quieter, firmer: “You don’t owe him anything.”
Alina smiled faintly, her eyes on the empty swings swaying in the wind. “I know. It was just… strange. Seeing him again.”
“Go home,” her mother said. “Eat something warm. Sleep.”
“I will,” Alina promised.
When the call ended, she stayed a while longer, breathing until her heartbeat stopped sounding like panic. The light flickered once, and by the time she rose, the last of the sunset was gone.
Home smelled like fabric softener and leftover takeout. The windows fogged slightly from the heater; Edward’s car was parked outside. She climbed the steps, shoulders heavy, and pushed open the door.
“Finally!” Joan called from the couch, eyes on her tablet. “We were about to send a search party.”
“Sorry,” Alina said, dropping her bag near the door. Her voice was small, her energy stretched thin.
From the armchair, Edward turned, controller still in hand, his blond hair a mess. “You’re acting weird.”
"No, I'm not," Alina said, turning to him a little too quick, her voice snappy.
“She’s being cagey,” Matilda said, stepping out of the kitchen with two mugs of tea, her copper hair glowing under the light. “Which means something happened.”
Alina sank into the couch, the cushions sighing under her weight. “I’m fine.”
Edward let out a laugh. “You’re never fine when you say it like that.”
On the rug, Victoria looked up from her laptop, her dark hair slipping over one shoulder as she closed it softly. “What happened? Another stupid parent?”
“No,” Alina said, eyes fixed on the table. “Just… long day.”
Joan glanced up, sharp and unblinking. “Alina. What’s going on?”
Alina’s fingers tugged at her sleeve. She knew her friends were not letting it go, and maybe a part of her was relieved that she was gonna talk about this with someone. “You know, the visitors today — the Sidemen — one of them was someone I knew. From back home.”
“Which one?” Matilda asked, curiosity edging her tone.
Before Alina could answer, Edward gasped. “You knew Harry Lewis and never told me?”
Joan sighed. “How do you even know it was him?”
“He’s from Guernsey!” Edward said, gesturing wildly as if it was something he expected everyone to know. “And you live with me! He’s my favorite Sidemen!” He continued turning her attention back to Alina a look of betrayal on his face.
Alina didn’t blink. “There’s nothing to tell. We grew up on the same street. It was a long time ago.”
Edward stared, unconvinced. “But it’s Harry Lewis.”
“Not everything revolves around your YouTube crush, Ed,” Joan muttered.
“I don’t have a—ow!” Matilda’s foot had clearly found its target. Victoria hid her smile behind her mug, the motion so subtle only Alina caught it.
Victoria set her drink down and leaned forward slightly. “You don’t have to explain anything.”
“I know,” Alina said, softer now. “It just caught me off guard. That’s all.”
Joan tilted her head. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Then, after a pause: “Was he important to you?”
“No,” Alina said quickly. Then, quieter: “Yes.”
The room stilled. No one pushed. They just let the silence settle.
Matilda placed a cup in Alina’s hands. “You want to talk about it?”
Alina shook her head. “There’s nothing to talk about. He was my best friend. Then he left. We didn’t keep in touch.”
No one argued. The hum of the house filled the space instead — the soft crackle of the heater, the sound of spoons against mugs. Joan rose after a moment. “I’m getting cake. Anyone else?”
A few murmured yeses followed. Edward, still half turned toward the TV, gave Alina a softer look. “You sure you’re okay?”
She forced a smile, delicate but holding. “I’m fine.”
The words felt thin in the air. Victoria’s eyes flicked toward her, gentle, watchful, the kind of look that said she didn’t believe it but wouldn’t call her out — not tonight. Across the room, Edward caught the glance, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them before he turned back to his controller.
Alina leaned against the couch, the low conversation fading into background noise. In the window’s dark reflection, she caught her own face — calm, steady, perfectly composed. But beneath it, she could still see the echo of the girl who hadn’t learned how to stop remembering.
