#tytl

No way, not now. Not now that you realized your own faults and your own baggage had gotten just as tangled up and messy as theirs did.

So after a deep breath you knocked on the door twice, music played faintly inside and after a few moments of trying to slow your heartbeat, he pulled the door open and looked down at you, confusion splashed across his face.

“Smalls--you’re early.”

“I’m early?” you stuck your chin out in disbelief, sure you’d misheard him. “Jake said the party started at eight--it’s eight thirty--I’m late. I was trying to be late.”

You looked over his shoulder and found his house empty behind him. His lips parted and then he offered you a small smile, stepped aside to let you into the foyer of a place that once felt like home.

“They’re fucking with us.”

“What?”

He took your coat as you shrugged out of it, walked to hang it up on the rack in the corner. Over his shoulder, he smiled a little. “Jake said eight knowing that you’d show up late, but knowing it would still be before the party actually starts. I told everyone to come for nine.”

You let it sink in for a minute as you stood across from him atop the marble floor. Jake, scheming, likely with the help of Jessie if not Bryn as well. Now you were stuck here with Harry, no buffer, until one of them showed up or at least until someone else knocked on the door and saved you from humiliation. So much for butting out.

“Great,” you nodded, looking around to take in the sight of the house. Things were still in the same place where you’d left them. A lamp you’d bought up north with your mum still sat on the end table by the couch. The mirror he’d picked out online with Erica still hung above the console table in the hallway.

“D’you want a drink? I’ve got Pinot Noir.”

He was already moving towards the kitchen, like a glass of red wine would soften the sharp edges of your first solo interaction in weeks. He pulled a glass from the cupboard over head, you walked to the drawer where he kept the opener and then froze.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to act like--”

He let out a chuckle, smiled when his eyebrows rose. “Like you used to live here?”

“I never lived here,” you said quickly, picking up the corkscrew and handing it to him.

“How’s the new job been?” He changed the subject quickly, slicing the foil wrapper.

“Good, you know, getting settled in.”

“Yeah? Meet any nice coworkers?”

You nodded, clenched your teeth a little at the small talk. You hadn’t experienced this side of Harry in a long time: the polished, poised, public-facing persona he’d crafted for interviews and red carpets and strangers. Your heart stung a bit when he poured you a glass and slid it forward on the counter.

“We don’t have to do this, you know. I can just head out or something--I don’t want this to be too weird.”

He smiled apologetically, braced himself against the counter. “I’m doing it, aren’t I?”

“Doing what?”

“Being weird,” he laughed. “You know, making small talk and acting like we’re strangers.”

You shrugged, not ready to admit his words were eerily similar to the thought bubbles that hung overhead.

“Adam said we’d do it. Jake too, but I like to think that Jake’s the dramatic one.”

“They said we’d do what?”

He poured himself a glass and took a sip. “Be awkward, put them in the middle, do the shit we used to do when we both liked each other and couldn’t admit it.”

He looked up quickly at the end of his sentence, aware of how your current predicament was quite the opposite.

“They put themselves in the middle,” you reminded him. “They said the same thing to me when we first broke up and acted like we’re the ones creating drama but they’re pretty quick to try to set us up and stir the pot.”

He rolled his eyes. “Our friends, stirring the pot? Never.”

You let out a laugh, one that felt comfortable and not forced. He noticed, apparently, shifted on his feet before he ran a hand through his hair.

“M’kind of surprised you came, honestly. I didn’t know if you’d show up.”

You rolled your eyes a little but laughed. “M’not that much of a dick, am I?”

He shrugged, the dimple in his left cheek made you wonder if this was flirting. He wouldn’t--he couldn’t. After everything that happened you were sure it was the nerves and the scent of his cologne that had you questioning if he was trying to make you feel this way.

But you remembered the promise you made to yourself when you stood in front of your mirror earlier this evening. If you had a moment alone with Harry (which you thought would be unlikely), you’d ask him to share his side of things.

After learning from Adam that Harry actually was trying to move things forward, you realized something: you and Harry were often looking at things from different perspectives. When you saw monotony and repetition in the relationship, apparently he saw stability--enough so to consider doing it forever.

So on top of learning that Harry had been looking at rings, you realized you’d been enough of a prick to not consider how his recounting of the same event might vary drastically from yours, which got you thinking.

You’d never really heard his rendition of the truth from December 29th, 2015, so with a glass of wine in hand and an empty kitchen:

“I actually have a question,” you said this suddenly, his eyebrows arched in surprise but he nodded for you to continue. “Did you--uh, do you remember what you told Jessie and them the night at Kenny’s Tilley’s?”

His mouth pulled up in the corner. “The infamous night at Kenny Tilley’s?”

“Yes,” you rolled your eyes.

“Well we’ve been there many times,” he defended his question.

“Right and they’ve all been so memorable that I would ask you specific questions--”

“Alright,” he relented, leaning forward on the counter to rest his elbows on the granite. He shook his head and pushed his lips out in thought. “I remember being in the bathroom with you,” he said, fighting another smirk.

You nodded. Obviously.

“I remember being on the deck out back with them afterwards.”

“The deck?” You’d never thought much about the rest of Harry’s night--in fact, you’d never thought much at all about his experience before, during, and after. The night, in your mind, had been a carefully preserved memory, frozen in time, the edges of the story faded to black, nonexistent.

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “I was completely freaked out. It wasn’t a good night for me,” he admitted.

“What do you mean?”

He sipped his wine and his eyes wandered off over your shoulder, like he could see the events coming into view. “Well, I had a pretty uncertain future at that point.”

December 29th, 2015 - 9:42pm

Harry was sat in the backseat of Jake’s car, knees cramped close to his chest when Adam turned around to see him.

“Also--not for nothing--but Y/N and Charlie broke up.”

“They did?”

“Bad one, too,” Jake let out a huff of air in sympathy for their friend. “She’s been wicked upset, but last I heard Jessie had convinced her to come out tonight.”

“When did this happen?” Harry tried to sound uninterested, like he was just asking what anyone else would ask.

“A few days ago, yeah?” Adam turned to Jake.

“Think so,” he shrugged.

Harry pushed his lips out in thought. Were his friends telling him this because they had a suspicion this information was relevant to Harry? Or were they just warning him that Y/N might not be in the best of moods despite the holiday season?

Jake’s car came to a stop by the curb on Kenny Tilley’s street and Adam unbuckled.

“Good that she’s coming out, then.”

“Yeah,” Jake shrugged, reaching for a bottle of vodka from his backseat after he cut the engine, a quick look in Harry’s direction. “She might need to rebound or something, never know.”

“Alright,” Harry rolled his eyes, now clued in on their antics and typical scheming.

“M’just sayin’, mate--you’re the one who’s been asking ‘bout her a lot more.”

“She’s my friend,” Harry tried to reason, climbing out of the backseat.

“Bryn’s also your friend but you don’t ask us nearly as much about her. Same with Jessie.”

“Jessie’s a handful and Bryn’s a lesbian,” Harry shoved his hands in his pockets as he followed them up the front walk. There were already people inside, kids from school that Harry had long known. But now he was here as Harry. There was no more band, no more shows, no more name-dropping of celebrities as a buffer when Harry had no clue how to interact with his former classmates.

“You’re actually helping us make our point,” Jake turned around to watch Harry with amused confusion on his face.

“Can we just go inside, please?”

Adam held up a hand. “Wait, do you want to fix your hair? Bryn just texted and said they’re in the kitchen.”

“Fuck both of you,” Harry nudged them aside and pushed the door open. It was relatively calm in the living room, no one was snogging on the couch and no one was puking in the bathroom--yet. A few waves from old friends made Harry feel like maybe his charm was fading with the band.

Was this it? Now that the band was done and now that he didn’t know what was in store for him--it was just regular old Harry? No more school friends flocking to greet him? Could he even count on the ego boost of Mollie Amsbury throwing herself at him like she did every Christmas?

Harry wasn’t feeling great as he made his way towards the kitchen, but seeing Jessie spot him in the crowd and immediately turn to tell Bryn and Y/N made him feel even more uncertain. She was sat in the middle of them, hands around a plastic cup that undoubtedly had alcohol in it to nurse her broken heart.

Harry offered a smile when he got close. “Hi.”

Bryn and Jessie stood and greeted him with a hug, Y/N seemed to follow their lead but her eyes looked sad and rejected.

“Didn’t know you were coming, H,” Jessie said.

“Yeah, I know--I’m--”

“You’re terrible at keeping in touch,” Bryn laughed. “We know. S’good to see you.”

It felt funnier this time, like chatting with them took more effort on Harry’s part. Smile, laugh, ask about work, their parents. Maybe it was a combination of the band breaking up and Harry’s sudden self-doubt about his own future, or maybe it was the way Y/N seemed to eye him with a level of disdain that he wasn’t quite used to.

“Missed you, Smalls,” his head dipped to the side, an attempt to get a smile out of her.

She scoffed, immediately met by an elbow to the side from Bryn that seemed to make her straighten up. “Yeah--same.”

Harry felt his own eyebrows furrow in confusion and that’s when Jake said: “We’re gonna grab a drink,” before he tugged Harry towards the other side of the room.

Adam got three cups from a stack on the counter and Jake uncapped the vodka he’d brought.

“Okay--is it just me or does no one even care that I’m here? Band breaks up and now no one gives a shit about me?”

“No offense, mate, but…get over yourself,” Jake said as he started pouring. “The girls just didn’t know you were coming, and they’re weird like that. They prefer to get a warning.”

“That I’m coming to a party with my own friends?”

“Yeah,” Adam waved them off. “Don’t let it bother you. Y/N’s been going through it and Jessie and Bryn haven’t really left her side this week.”

Harry rolled his eyes at that. How could someone like Charlie break Y/N’s heart? The one time he met him--which, albeit, was backstage in 2014--the kid seemed a bit dull and honestly, he felt like Y/N could do a lot better. Someone more interesting and funnier and--Harry took the cup of vodka and coke that Jake handed over and watched as Y/N rolled her eyes at Jessie--more like him.

But he did his best to ignore it, he meandered around the living room and answered peoples questions as he caught up and said hello: what comes next? I don’t know. Why’d the band break up? A lot of reasons. Will you ever get back together? I don’t know.

The truth is that Harry was reeling from the turn of events in 2015, and while he didn’t have the slightest clue as to what the future held for him, spending more time with the five people who knew him best felt like a good place to start.

By 12:23am he was more at ease, aided mostly by the drink in his hand and the fact that he spotted Y/N waiting for the loo, eyes closed as she leaned against the wall.

He’d just say hi, ask how she was doing, maybe he should play it cool and pretend he forgot who Charlie was.

“Hey,” he muttered it quickly, her eyes snapped open and she nearly knocked a picture of Kenny Tilley’s parents off the wall.

“Jesus,” she said, a hand over her heart. “Didn’t you see my eyes were closed?”

“Sorry--I--” he smirked, “you weren’t sleeping, were you?”

“I was standing up,” she rolled her eyes, “just waiting.”

He watched her for a second, unsure if he should admit that she’d been occupying more space in his head. Brent Gerring opened the door to the loo and headed back for the living room when Y/N shifted on her feet.

She hesitated for a second but offered an awkward smile. “Well, gotta go.”

“Wait, Smalls,” Harry took two steps into the bathroom, no plan of action and no reason for following her other than a sudden desire to be near her.

He shut the door somewhat sloppily thanks to the drink he still nursed, she made a funny face when he almost tripped over his own feet.

“What was that?” She peered behind him, eyes trailing down to metal object that now lay atop the tile.

“Dunno--” he bent down, returning to eye level with a tarnished piece of gold in his hand. “Shit.”

“Harry--what the fuck did you do?” She grabbed it out of his hand and pushed him aside to inspect the damage. He stepped back, watched as she tried to shove it in place and then wiggled the knob.

“S’locked,” he said, a hint of guilt laced through his low voice. Sure, Harry had come in here with the intent of talking to her, catching up, having a split second without Jessie or Bryn over her shoulder--but he hadn’t expected this.

“Gathered that,” she bit back, gave the knob one more go before she turned to look at him.

Harry shrunk a bit under her stare, realizing he better find a solution to this if he wanted her to ever speak to him again. “D’you have a phone? I left mine in the car.”

“No, I think I gave it to Jessie--so I don’t text Charlie.”

Now was his chance. “Charlie?”

“My boyfriend,” a sigh. “I guess, ex-boyfriend.”

“Oh,” he nodded, making a face like he was just now able to place the name. “Sorry--someone will come. Eventually someone will have to use the loo or notice we’re gone.”

She looked around at the tiny bathroom, hand towels that Kenny’s mum must have picked out, the tiny soaps that people steal from hotels. She slid down to the floor and Harry watched as she brushed her hair to one side of her neck.

“Can you turn the light out? S’fucking bright.” She held a hand up to shield her eyes from the overhead fixture, Harry looked up quickly but then moved for the switch. An audible sigh when he flicked the switch off, he slid to the ground to sit with his knees opposite hers.

“Guess it’s a good time to catch up,” he twisted the ring on his middle finger and forced a laugh.

“I’m fine, Harry.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She averted her gaze for a second, moved to sit on her hands like she didn’t know what to do with them.

“School’s good?”

“Yep.”

“Your parents?”

“Mhm.”

“And Katie, too?”

“All good.”

A moment of hope passed--a voice outside the door that would maybe notice two people stuck inside. Deflated chests when nothing happened.

“So Charlie--was he from uni, right?”

“Yeah,” she spoke in a breathy sigh, almost like she was about to divulge more. She pushed her lips out in thought and was quiet for a second. Maybe she felt his eyes on her face, he took in the curve of her cheek and the way her hair fell in front of her ears. She looked up at him but then back down to the tile beneath her.

“Think it’s over for good?”

“Why are you so interested in my life suddenly?”

This caught him off guard, so much so that his shoulders tensed and he had to purposefully lower them from beside his ears. “Sorry--just...making small talk.”

“Well you’re a little late.”

“What?”

She sat up at this and crossed her arms. “We haven’t spoken in a year, m’pretty sure. You barely even text on our birthdays--you didn’t come to Adam’s gran’s funeral--and yet you show up here and expect everyone to be so thrilled to see you? Did you ever realize that maybe we’re not? Maybe our lives have moved on without you and you don’t just get to be a part of them whenever you please?”

Harry didn’t mean to let his eyes go wide, he had no choice but to swallow and breathe and try to calm his heart from beating out of his chest. He’d long been getting shit from them about keeping in touch--but hearing it come from Y/N with a level of emotion in her voice he wasn’t even aware he could evoke in her--well, that just made Harry get defensive.

Here he was, trying to catch up and get reacquainted and Y/N was acting like he was somehow to blame for her sour mood. What was he supposed to do? Wear a t-shirt that said I come in peace?

“Well, s’not like I’ve been sitting around in my living room, y’know. I’ve been working my arse off for years and now s’just over and I have to answer to you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He sighed, remembered what Adam and Jake had said: Y’N’s been going through it.

“Smalls, I don’t want to do this.”

“Do what?” she asked, turning towards him again. “Face the shit you left behind? Face the fact that some of us have missed you and waited for you to call or text or even just say hi when you were home?”

Was she crying? Harry suddenly felt in over his head, desperately wishing that someone would knock on the door and save him from having to figure out what to say to a drunk and emotional girl that maybe he was now interested in.

“I’ve got a lot going on right now.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t reply, Harry was certain he’d fucked it all up when she reached for the door and grunted when it was still locked.

“Of course--of course I get fucking stuck in the toilet with you on tonight of all nights. First Charlie, now you. Men who’ve ruined my life!”

The words tumbled out of her mouth with ease, Harry had to rewind internally and play it back, make sure he heard her right. “Wh--I ruined your life?”

“No,” she said quickly. “Forget it.”

Now he was intrigued, now he needed to know what on earth had her so upset with him when all he’d tried to do was say hi and ask how things had been.

“Y/N, what are you talking about?”

She was quiet for a second, shook her head and stared at the cuff of her sleeve. Harry was frozen, hanging on every word as she sniffled through the tears that he could see pooling her eyes.

“You left,” she said quietly, the anger suddenly gone from her voice when she looked up at him. “You left and I didn’t like it because I was--” a drunken sigh. “I had feelings for you.”

Everything seemed to screech to a halt--the music outside, the laughter muffled through the door, the moonlight that streamed through the window. He paid very close attention to the past tense, had, licked his lips and inhaled through his nose.

“Why--why didn’t you tell me?”

She let out a sarcastic laugh, “what was I supposed to say, Harry? Come back from your one shot at fame because I have a crush on you?”

He blinked a few times--it wouldn’t have been that simple, but Harry’s mind raced with possibility when he considered how different things would have been. “I--I didn’t know,” he said.

“Well, whatever.” She stood from the floor and moved over to the window, the words she said almost vanished in thin air when she wiped her cheeks. “S’fucking hot in here and that was a long time ago. S’fine.”

He stood up, too. Y/N moved to open the window and Harry just stared at her, mostly contemplating if he should admit that she was the main reason he came home this Christmas.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Was he staring too much? Was he drunk and an idiot and had he already ruined whatever he’d hoped this could be? He backtracked: “m’not.”

“Okay,” she rolled her eyes and Harry resigned to his seat on the floor. He took another sip of his drink, watched as she started to pace the tiny room.

“Should we bang on the door?” He asked, sensing her anxiety growing with each second.

“Knock yourself out,” she motioned to it.

He reached up, pounded against the wood four times and shouted: “can anyone hear me?”

Nothing--but Harry couldn’t tell if he wanted anyone to come to their rescue. She was angry and upset but this was the most they’d talked in years. He felt pathetic and hopeful all at once when she sat down again.

“Vodka?” He pushed his cup towards her, “kind of gross and not enough juice thanks to Jessie. Adam’s a better bartender.”

She took it and tipped it back, Harry watched as she finished what was left before she put it on the floor in between them and let out a sigh.

He laughed. “Thanks--was, uh, hoping to have at least some.”

“Oh piss off, I declared my teenage love for you. I think you owe me one.”

He laughed at that, tossing the cup into the bin across the small room. He thought back to certain moments, times when maybe he should have realized there was something there.

The way she didn’t seem thrilled about their record deal, the comments about how infrequently he came home, the way she responded less and less in the group chat over the years and how unimpressed she seemed with his fame.

He was about to ask her when it changed--when she stopped having feelings for him if she was presently using the past tense--but she turned around to look at the radiator.

“Is this thing broken? I’m sweltering.”

“Yeah--s’like a Texas summer in here.”

“Right,” she said, her fingers moving to the front of her blouse. “You’ve been there.”

He watched as she unbuttoned not one, not two, but each button, one after another until the skin of her belly was visible between the two sides of green fabric.

“What are you doing?”

“S’hot--too hot.”

“Oh.”

He gulped back whatever sudden arousal coursed through him, blinked a few times and looked away to avoid any heat rising to his cheeks--or anywhere else for that matter.

“I’m probably the last girl you’d expect to see without a shirt, right?”

“What do you mean?” He asked, a smirk pulled out the dimple in his left cheek. He’d never admit it, but Y/N was the first girl he ever dreamt about like that. Year 6--right after they’d all eaten pizza at Jessie’s house for her birthday.

“Dunno,” she leaned her head to the side, the corner of her mouth inching upwards as she seemed to come around. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” He laughed, leaning forward to poke her playfully.

“The cute smile thing.”

“Can’t help it,” he shrugged, the first bit of honesty all night: “you bring it out of me.”

She watched him for a second, Harry did everything in his power to not let his eyes flicker to her lips, he knew they’d taste like honey and he couldn’t bear to think about it in such a small space, the dark fabric of her bra stark contrast to her pale skin.

“Why’d you show up tonight, anyway?” she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Was hoping to see everyone--I meant it when I said I missed you.”

“Hm,” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall. Had he said the wrong thing? A moment of silence before she pointed to the door. “Try it again.”

He pulled at it once more but it didn’t give. Her eyes were open when he turned around to see her, brows lifted north like she knew he liked the sight of her.

“If I’m locked in a bathroom with anyone, m’glad s’you.”

She didn’t roll her eyes, instead she kept her gaze on him and let out a scoff. “Right.”

“Really--could have been Nina Victor.” He faked a shiver at the thought.

“Well, ditto.”

A pause, she looked away and then back at him. Harry wondered if there was anything he could say to make it right: I’m sorry, I suck, I hope you can forgive me, I think I maybe like you? She shifted on the floor and then it was quick.

Harry felt her lips against his and a thousand questions flooded his brain when he tasted her--how drunk was she? Did she even know what she was doing? Would she regret this in the morning? Is this the rebound Jake had joked about?

As badly as he wanted to let it happen, he brought his hands to her shoulders and gently pushed her away. “Smalls, I just--I don’t--”

“I know,” she said, slumping away from him, “it’s not like that.”

“No, I just don’t think--”

“S’fine, Harry,” she pushed herself back into the wall and Harry watched as her face twisted into sadness. “You don’t have to explain it. I get it--there’s lots of girls for you, and I’m just the one who got left behind when you got too fucking famous for us, right?”

“S’not what I’m saying--you’re not even listening to me Smalls, I’d rather kiss you--”

“Oh God,” she said, scrambling to find the toilet as she got sick and pushed hair out of her face.

Harry grimaced, questions answered: she was really drunk, she probably didn’t know what she was doing, and she very well might regret this in the morning.

He moved closer to her and put a hand on her back, “You’re okay--”

“Don’t touch me,” she cried, twisting beneath his touch to add space between them.

But again--what had he done? Harry watched as she wiped the tears on her face, mascara smudging on her cheeks as she clambered to find her blouse she’d left on the floor. He was frozen, desperately wanting to help but completely unsure what to say or do to make her take a deep breath and relax, and maybe, if he was lucky, hear him out.

“Y/N, are you okay? Why are you crying?”

“I’m fine!” she yelled at him, reaching to flush the toilet and pull her shirt back on in one quick motion. “I’m stupid and drunk and you need to forget everything I’ve said and we can’t ever speak of this, okay? Don’t even talk to me--just go back to London or LA and don’t ever speak to me again.”

“Whoa, Y/N,” he put out both hands to motion for her to slow down. Not speak to her? Ever again? He couldn’t follow her line of thinking.

“Don’t--okay? I shouldn’t have kissed you and I’m drunk and I’m disgusting,” the words were slurred into one run-on, mess of syllables.

Harry was frozen again, shoulders slumped when she buttoned up her shirt and let out shaky breaths. He was about to tell her, admit that she wasn’t crazy and he wanted to kiss her but not like this--not drunk in Kenny Tilley’s bathroom with a bunch of drunk idiots on the other side of the wall.

The door pushed open and the lights got switched on, Bryn’s eyes were wide when she saw Y/N huddled in the corner of the room and Harry on his knees. “What happened? What are you doing?”

“I just--we were stuck in here--and she,” he sputtered out the words, endless sentences with no finish lines.

“Just get out, Harry,” she cried again. He looked to Bryn for some kind of backup or advice on how to make her just calm down.

“Y/N, hold on, just wait, I think--”

“No, Harry, alright? I shouldn’t have said it and now I look even more like an idiot.”

“Smalls, you need to calm down.”

He reached a hand forward to touch her, but she shimmied away and looked up at him before speaking through another sob. “Don’t you have more famous friends to hang out with?”

“Harry, just go, I’ve got it,” Bryn pleaded from behind him. He turned to look at her over his shoulder, forehead wrinkled. “Bryn,” he started.

“Go,” she whispered, a hand on his shoulder to push him out into the hallway. Jake was there, Adam and Jessie arrived quickly behind him, all of their eyes wide at the sight of the commotion.

“Don’t crowd the bathroom, yeah? Give her some fucking space,” Harry barked at them, his feet carried him towards the back porch off the kitchen. Fuming really, angry that what could have been an exciting moment got twisted into something dramatic and stupid and sloppy.

“What on earth did you do?!” Jessie’s tone was accusatory, Harry spun on his heels when Adam pulled the door shut to seal off the party inside. Quiet, cold air, late December hung over the tops of suburban trees.

“What did I do?” He pointed at his own chest incredulously. “Nothing--I didn’t do a fucking thing! We got stuck in there and we were talking and we’re drunk obviously and she said she used to have feelings for me and then she kissed me but then I pushed her off--”

“You pushed her off?!” Jessie scoffed, confused by his words. “Why the fuck did you do that you twat?”

“Because I didn’t want this to happen! If I finally get to kiss her I don’t want it to be when we’re smashed at some stupid party--”

“Wait--what do you mean finally?” Jessie’s voice was less angry now, her lips parted as she waited for an answer. “Do you still like her, Harry? Do you have feelings for Y/N?”

Harry let out a groan, his breath was visible in the night air and he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yes--no--I don’t know. She just told me to never speak to her again so I can’t really answer that right now.”

Jake’s lips were in a thin line, Jessie turned to see him and then turned to Adam. Their silence was telling.

“Did you know he still has feelings for her?”

Adam shrugged, clinging to innocence. “Well, we told him that Charlie dumped her because we thought, you know--”

Jessie groaned and waved him off. “Of course I know, I was also hoping that it would finally happen.”

“Wait,” Harry turned to Jessie. “You knew she had feelings for me?”

Jessie froze, uncertain what to divulge. Y/N was heartbroken over Charlie, Jessie had been wiping her tears all week--but that didn’t change the fact that Y/N had been in love with Harry for years and now suddenly everyone was on the same page.

Jessie turned to the boys, almost looking for permission to answer Harry’s question. Jake, with a cigarette between his lips, shrugged. “Cat’s outta the fuckin’ bag now, yeah?”

This shocked Harry, sent his heart rate soaring higher than it had been. “You all knew? Everyone knew and no one told me?”

“Guilty,” Jessie offered a pleading smile. “But what were we supposed to do, Harry? You’re jet setting around the world and we’ve been sitting here going to class and getting jobs.”

“When did you find out?”

“That she liked you?”

He nodded, tried to focus on his breathing and ignore the thumping bass line that still managed to seep through the door.

“When you left, years ago, Harry--she was pretty upset. Bryn and I always kind of knew but then she finally admitted it to the boys, too, once you were gone.”

Harry looked at all three of them. Jessie--the biggest mouth of all time and yet she’d managed to keep it shut for five years. Adam--a people pleaser, a solutions guy, someone who should have easily been able to craft a way to get both Y/N and Harry on the same page. And Jake--one of the funniest, most thoughtful and caring people Harry knew.

“Why did no one tell me?”

“She would have murdered us, mate!” Jake shrugged. “And what would that have done? You’ve been gone.”

“When am I going to stop getting shit about it? It’s my job! You’ve all got degrees and flats of your own and I’m left here now with no fucking band, no fucking plan, and now I find out that I’ve wasted years thinking this Charlie guy was actually a threat.”

Jessie pulled back at the emotion in his voice. “You can talk to her in the morning, Harry--”

“No I can’t,” he waved her off, angry and loud as Jake flicked the cigarette. “I fucked it up and it’s too late and now she fucking hates me. I’ve never seen her so angry or upset.”

“She’ll calm down,” Adam reassured.

“No--it’s not--it’s not meant to be, yeah? Would have worked by now if it were, right?”

Harry nodded to himself, hoping that if he said the words aloud he’d have to believe them. Jake and Adam paused, Jessie’s lips turned into a frown.

“You can’t tell her I told you what she said--we can’t--we can’t ever speak of this.”

“Harry--”

“No, Jessie--just leave it, okay? None of this ever happened, that’s what she wants. I missed my chance.”

“Okay,” Adam shrugged.

“Okay,” Jake agreed.

Jessie waited, she eyed each of them, wondering when she should stop trying to play God. Maybe now was a good time. “Okay,” she agreed. “Fine.”

**

You looked at him, lips parted in shock at the details he’d kept to himself.

For all these years you assumed he ran outside and told them all of the things you said: how you cried, how you yelled, how you threw up and made a complete fool of yourself all because of a stupid crush you still weren’t over.

The surprise on your face left Harry to offer you a hesitant smile. “What?”

You cleared your throat, looked down at the glass of wine and wondered when someone else would show up to save you from the emotion that now seemed to course through your veins.

“Nothing--I guess I just figured you would have told them all the gory details and spared me no dignity.”

He frowned at that, still somewhat amused by your confession. “S’not really my style.”

You sat with that for a second, thoughts racing as you absorbed the new version of the same story.

You got too drunk, embarrassed yourself in front of Harry, and he didn’t tell the entire friend group about what a knob you’d been. He kept it to himself, he didn’t repeat everything you’d said.

Maybe that’s why it took Bryn and Jessie so long to put all of the pieces together. For weeks they kept saying: it’s not a big deal, so what? You admitted your feelings, it’s fine.

It was fine because they didn’t know all the nitty gritty. This realization left your mouth dry, you reached for the wine and met Harry’s gaze again.

“I would never do something to hurt you on purpose.”

You nodded, deep down you knew it was true.

But the doorbell rang, pulling him away from the island and into the foyer to greet whoever was at the door. You’d know them, undoubtedly. You smiled and greeted his friends and ignored the pit that seemed to grow in your stomach.

Maybe Adam was right. Sure--Harry struggled with words sometimes and everyone in your friend group had their moments where honesty lacked. But Harry had covered for you that night, just like three weeks earlier at Roman’s.

He told Jessie and Jake and Adam to not bring it up, he didn’t laugh at you or make fun of you and--at the end of the day--he did exactly what you asked of him.

He gave you space: two years of it.

When the rest of the gang arrived, Bryn sensed the heaviness in the house that used to feel like home. After she paraded Briony around and introduced her to the six of you, she tugged you into a corner and lowered her voice.

“What’s up? You seem depressed.”

“I’m alright,” you waved her off. Depressed? Felt strong. Sad because your whole world continued to implode and crumble around you? More accurate.

She and Jessie both knew something was up. While you didn’t have the heart to tell them about the diamond-related detail Adam disclosed a few weeks ago, they weren’t stupid, so they tried to piece it all together and fill in the blanks on their own.

Dinner with them a few nights ago: did he confess his love? Tell you he never wants to see you again? Did he give you another box of your things?

No, no, no. You promised them you were fine and just busy at work, nervous about the release party, admitted that going into the holiday season was more upsetting without him by your side.

In new Jessie and Bryn fashion they left you alone, stopped begging for answers and promised: we’re here if you need us.

Apparently a glass of wine and a social gathering made them more pushy.

“Alright,” Jessie sighed when she slung an arm around your shoulders. Briony had just finished telling a hilarious story about the first time Bryn slept over and walked straight into the wall in the middle of the night.

“What gives, Y/N?”

“Nothing,” you laughed it off, felt heat rush to your cheeks when they all gave you a knowing look. Even Briony seemed hesitant to take your words at face value.

“Bullshit,” Bryn said. “You were the first one here out of all of us, you’ve barely even mentioned you know who since your wild night out.”

“Wild night out?” The piqued Briony’s interest.

“Oh, yeah, babe, didn’t I tell you that Y/N got sick outside a club on a Thursday night a few weeks ago?”

“Sounds thrilling,” she smiled.

“It was a rough night,” you admitted.

“Everything’s been rough lately,” Jessie borrowed your word. “But I’m not buying it.”

“Jess--”

“No,” she shook her head. “This isn’t me prying, this isn’t me being nosy. This is me giving a shit. You’re not yourself.”

When Bryn didn’t say anything, you knew you were caught. You let out a deep exhale, nodded a little bit and scanned all three of their faces.

“As you so kindly pointed out, I was the first one here this evening. Someone told me the party started at eight, so I showed up at 8:30 hoping to be fashionably late.”

“And it started at nine,” Bryn nodded. “You have Jake to thank for that.”

“I might murder him,” you said seriously. “But--aside from Jake being a wanker. I, uh--I asked Harry about the night at Kenny Tilley’s.”

Jessie’s head tilted to the side and Bryn’s eyes grew round in anticipation.

“I didn’t know that he never told you what really happened.”

Jessie’s chin stuck out in question. “What do you mean what really happened?”

“I always assumed he told you all that I was crying and that I threw up and that I basically called him a terrible person and a shit friend and--yeah. I thought he turned around and told you all of the gory details.”

Bryn smiled a little, a tiny laugh when she reached forward to pat you on the arm. “You’re the one who told us all the gory details. Had to piece it together over time, though.”

“Yeah,” Jessie said. “For the first few months we thought you just said you liked him, I mean, that’s what Harry told me on the deck that night.”

Bryn nodded. “And I knew you were crying cause I walked in, but Harry never really told us anything. Just said you didn’t want to talk to him.”

You let out a sigh, the guilt only rising like high tide when they confirmed: Harry hadn’t been as much of a twat as you’d been telling yourself. Blaming him, being angry at him allowed you to build the wall between you. It was easier to be angry at him than at yourself.

“Well, I was pretty hard on him that night. Pretty sure I said he ruined my life. Guess I just thought that he would have made me out to be the bad guy or, I dunno, tell how you stupid I was.”

They both let the new detail settle. Ruin your life? That’s a big accusation.

“Wait,” Jessie said. “You thought Harry turned around and, like, made fun of you? Or called you a twat or something?”

“I would have made fun of me,” you shrugged, an embarrassed smile crept onto your face.

“Y/N,” she sighed. “He’s never done that. He’s never said anything about that night, he wasn’t running around telling your secrets or putting you on blast.”

“I love you, with my whole heart,” Bryn nodded, stifling a laugh. “But you can be incredibly stupid sometimes.”

This pulled a giggle from you, a pathetic one at best.

“We’re not normally this dramatic,” you said to Briony, trying to downplay the conversation she’d just witnessed.

“What?” Jessie let out a cackle. “Yes we are. We’re always this dramatic.”

“Well, we’re working on it,” you shrugged.

“We are,” she agreed, raising her wine glass to clink against yours. “To being honest and butting out.”

Jessie gave you a hug, did as she said and let you be for a while as you sipped your drink and wandered about the living room. Harry’s work friends, a few people you’d met visiting him on tour--they all mingled about over cheese and crackers and offered smiles when you offered sideways hugs in greeting.

It felt mostly normal, every now and then you’d glance at him across the room, wishing things were different but knowing they might not ever be.

It wasn’t until you bumped into one of his makeup artists that you were forced to address the proverbial elephant in the room.

“You’ll be coming on the road, right? At least for some visits, yeah?” She smiled at you genuinely, pink lipstick that you could never pull off.

“Oh--probably just the London shows--maybe. We, uh, we broke up actually.”

Her face fell, a mix of awkward and apologetic. “Oh, Jesus, Y/N, I’m so sorry. He didn’t mention that.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you waved her off. “Not a big deal.”

Hadn’t mentioned it? Did she not read Page Six? You nodded along when she changed the subject, finished your glass of wine and fetched another. Jake was busy flirting with one of the girls in his band, Bryn and Briony were busy chatting with Harry in the kitchen. Jessie swiped through something on her phone and laughed when Adam said something about that one night in Year 8.

So you were alone. Awkward and isolated as you looked around the foyer, wondering if anyone would notice if you dipped upstairs to use the bathroom. A few girls off to your left, the ones that typically made you insecure at events like these.

The coast seemed clear enough--and your bladder was certainly full enough.

You hiked up the stairs in your stupid heels and hoped that you didn’t look suspicious. You found the bathroom in the hall near the guest room and executed your mission successfully, but once you dried your hands on the hand towel you’d bought at TK Maxx, you couldn’t help but be curious about what other traces of you were still in his house.

Perhaps you wouldn’t have done it without the three glasses of wine, or maybe you would have. But you twisted the knob quietly and shut the door behind you once you dipped inside.

You found the light switch and flipped it up, eyes scanning the room that, for the most part, looked exactly the same as the last time you’d seen it. His bed was in the same place, the same lamps were on the nightstands. The photobooth strips were gone from the edges of the mirror, kisses to your face when you sat on his lap at his bandmates’ birthday. Your iPhone charger was missing from your side of the bed, you knew your drawer in the dresser was empty.

But, the box you’d kept your jewelry in was in the same spot on the dresser.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, padded over and opened the lid. You hadn’t expected it, but inside in the top corner sat the gold bracelet you’d unclipped hastily from your wrist in his driveway and dropped inside the box of his things.

Your stomach sank at the sight of it, a memory of what was and who you were, now abandoned and shut away so he wouldn’t have to see it. What had he done? Gone through the box of his things and put them all away?

Did he leave it on the floor near his front door for a week like you did? Hoping that ignoring it would make it all disappear?

You imagined him, putting every item of clothing back into his closet, putting the books back on his shelf and then--at the very bottom--picking up the bracelet and not knowing what to do with it.

Give it to someone else? Rude, also weird. Sell it? He didn’t need the money. Throw it away? He was too sentimental. So he’d settled, you assumed, with tucking it away and out of sight until he figured out a better solution.

The gold was cool against your wrist when you clasped it into place, still lost in reverie when the door pushed open.

“Hey,” Bryn’s voice pulled you back down to earth. You turned around so quickly you hit your hip on the dresser and bent over in pain.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you bit out, rubbing the fabric of your dress. “Hi--”

“What are you doing up here?” She came inside and shut the door.

“Not snooping,” you lied.

She rolled her eyes, “try again.”

“I went pee cause someone was in the bathroom downstairs and I didn’t feel like waiting.”

“Ah,” she nodded. “Implementing your ex-girlfriend privilege.”

Her eyes trailed down to your wrist, you tucked it behind your back when you noticed.

“Is that your bracelet?” She came over and reached for your arm, tugging it forward to see. “Where was it?”

“In the jewelry box,” you pointed. “It looked so sad tangled up in the corner.”

“Honestly--m’surprised he kept it.”

“Me too,” you said.

“You can’t just take it back, though, Y/N.”

“Why not?”

She stepped away and looked at you like you’d gone mad. “Because he literally watched you take it off your wrist and throw it in the box like you were having a tantrum.”

You waited for her to say more, eyebrows raised as if to say and…?

“Meaning he’ll know you came in here and took it if he sees you wearing it.”

“He’ll never even notice, Bryn.”

She looked around the room and shook her head. “You’re mental, truly. You’re going to steal back the gift he gave you for your birthday that you gave back to him when you broke up?”

You lifted your wrist, held it between you in the air and shook it. “Yep.”

She sighed. “Can we at least leave before he finds us up here, then?”

“Fine,” you sighed, shutting the lid to the jewelry box and following her over to the door.

It pushed open though, Jake was on the other side with brows knit together and a quiet voice. “What are you two doing up here?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, arms crossed in defense.

“Y/N’s stealing back her things.”

“Thanks, Bryn.”

“I thought we were being honest now!”

You rolled your eyes at her. You hadn’t meant for your honesty campaign to come back and bite you in the arse so frequently.

“You’re stealing?” Jake’s eyebrows arched, impressed.

“It was a gift!” You held up your wrist to show him the bracelet, offended by their accusations.

“However you got it, I feel like snooping around Harry’s room isn’t a great look.”

You sighed and knew he was right, let Bryn drag you back to the hallway after shutting the door to his room. Jake turned the corner and, of course, thanks to the wine and your karma, Harry had just ascended the stairs with a petite brunette in tow.

“Hi,” he looked confused, eyes scanning over the three of you as they slowed to a stop. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” Bryn said with an innocent smile. “Just had to use the bathroom.”

“All three of you?” Harry tilted his head to the side, suspicion written on his face when his eyes landed on you.

“Yep,” you said, a quick nod to play it off. Distraction: “Hi,” you stuck out a hand to the girl by his side, hoping to seem calm and collected. “I’m Y/N.”

“Uh, right,” Harry motioned. “This is Ruth.”

“Hi,” Bryn and Jake both greeted flatly, unimpressed. She mumbled out a greeting but you ignored her.

“Sorry, there was a line downstairs,” you explained, an awkward laugh when he nodded.

“Got it, s’why we’re up here too.”

“Right, okay,” you nodded, pushing Bryn into motion and towards the stairs. Harry was about to let it go, pointing down the hall to show Ruth where to find the loo.

“Hey, Y/N?” He looked over his shoulder, a sly smile decorated his lips.

“Yeah?” You turned quickly, stomach in a knot when your eyes locked on his.

“Nice bracelet. S’beautiful.”

Jake and Bryn were silent, you hid your wrist behind your back. He wasn’t angry, his eyes were soft and forgiving, Ruth shut the door and all you could mumble was thanks.

**

Briony didn’t know you well, seeing as she’d been dating Bryn for a total of four weeks. So perhaps she was the one you felt most embarrassed in front of as Jessie’s jaw almost hit the floor.

“He noticed it?”

“Of course he noticed it,” Bryn scoffed. “He bought it.”

“Where is he now?” Adam asked, his voice low enough to avoid letting anyone overhear your conversation. The party had thinned out after midnight, Harry made trips to and from the door as he said goodbye to his guests.

You were sat at the kitchen counter now, having poured another glass of wine after your run in with crime. Jake’s arms were crossed over his chest and Bryn still managed to deliver disapproving looks even with her arms wrapped around Briony’s waist.

“Probably with Ruth,” you raised the pitch of your voice to mock, Jessie let out an eye roll.

“Don’t take it out on Ruth.”

“Who even is Ruth?!” You whispered at her, shoulders rising up to your ears from tension.

“She’s friends with his cousin or something, I don’t know. She’s not a threat,” Jessie reassured, a wave of her hand to really sell it.

“Sure--he’s probably already sleeping with her and you guys are finally minding your business so you won’t tell me.”

They all had a reaction to that, minus Briony.

“Alright, maybe you should go home, Smalls.”

You looked at Jake like he was mental. “Go home?” You asked. “I’m not drunk!”

“No, but, you don’t seem to be having a good night.”

His observation made your stomach drop, the fear started rushing in before you could stop the question from tumbling out of your mouth. “Is he seeing someone?”

“No,” Bryn groaned. “You’re getting paranoid, Y/N.”

“Why should I believe any of you?”

Jessie rolled her eyes and sighed. “Y/N, do you hear yourself?”

“I do! And I think it’s a fair question since none of you have the most honest track record.”

“We’ve never kept things from you to hurt you, Smalls,” Jake was bothered now, his face twisted into an expression of frustration. “You act like we’re pathological liars.”

“Well you’re not pathological truthers,” you grimaced at how stupid you sounded and sipped at your wine.

“You’ve done a lot of finger pointing lately, you know.”

A sarcastic and snarky tone: “have I?”

“You have,” Jake nodded. “And not for nothing, Y/N--” the use of your real name signaled his anger, “--but you haven’t even looked in the mirror. You’re so quick to call us liars that you haven’t even entertained the fact that you’ve got incredible trust issues and sabotaged your own relationship because of it.”

“Okay,” Jessie put a hand up to his chest in an attempt to calm him down. He let out a huff and shrugged away from her, heading for Harry’s back garden. Adam followed him out but squeezed your shoulder as he passed, a mediocre attempt at apologizing on Jake’s behalf.

Bryn clapped her hands together, “alright, well, love you both, but we’re probably going to head out on that note.” She came to hug you, kissed your head and said: he’ll calm down.

You offered Briony an apologetic smile in farewell and watched them head for the foyer to find their coats, Jessie pulled up a stool next to you and sighed.

“I’m an idiot,” you said quietly, shoulders slumped as you traced the stem of your wine glass with your pointer finger.

She was quiet for a second, put her elbows on the granite and said: “you’re a lovable idiot,” before resting her head on your shoulder.

You let out a huff of air, cheeks flushed as tears welled in your eyes. You could hear his laugh in the living room, a few other voices still lagged behind at the end of the night. Your skin felt prickly, sticky with heat and emotion that threatened to spill over when you stood abruptly.

“I’m gonna go to the loo, yeah?”

Jessie squeezed your hand but nodded, a knowing look on her freckled face. She let you slip up the stairs without another word and lock the door of the half-bath behind you.

Jake’s words stung, but what seemed to weave through your ribs and hurt the most was the fact that he was right.

Harry didn’t communicate well and Bryn didn’t rush to honesty. Adam never wanted to get in the middle and Jessie had too many opinions.

And you--standing beside the stupid TK Maxx towels--had trust issues that lurked behind every corner. You’d been so quick to get upset with them for all of their wrongdoings that you hadn’t bothered to consider your own missteps and the effect that they had.

You heard the front door open and shut, hoped it was Ruth heading out and that you’d never have to see her again. Petty and stupid and immature, you wiped your eyes and cursed yourself for always realizing things too late.

Harry had fucked up and Jessie had fucked up and so had you. Perhaps the crumbling of your relationship wasn’t a direct result of any one lie or event, but a culmination of each of your faults.

A puzzle of fuck ups and mistakes that came together in an untimely fashion. Maybe you were also to blame.

The door latched into place and the noise echoed in the hallway when you decided it was time to call it a night. A few people still lounged in the living room, two of Harry’s bandmates you’d gotten to know well over the last two years. You didn’t hear Jessie--not even Jake--as you descended the stairs and rounded into the kitchen.

Harry stood at the sink, a wine glass in his hand after he rinsed it and tucked it into his dishwasher.

“Where’s Jess?”

He turned at the sound of your voice, an unreadable expression on his face. “She just left, with Jake and Adam,” he pointed a finger towards the door and waited for a reaction.

“They left me here? They left me at your house?”

“Jake was annoyed--dunny why. I told them I’d bring you home,” he said quietly, suddenly aware of the emotion in your voice.

You took an unsteady breath, closed your eyes for a second but nodded in defeat. “Okay.”

This seemed to catch him by surprise. He blinked a few times, lips pushed out as if he expected you to change your mind. He cleared his throat and scratched at the back of his neck. “Uh--actually, I asked them to let me bring you home. Jessie didn’t want to leave you, but I asked her to.”

Your eyes trailed up to his, the truth hung in the air between you and for a second, you wondered if he’d take it back.

“Why?”

He shrugged a shoulder and the corner of his mouth pulled towards the ceiling. “Kind of wanted to get the bracelet back.”

“You’re a twat,” you let out a small giggle, the tension immediately broken. You could see him relax at that, unaware until that moment of how much power you held over him.

He was quiet for a second, held your gaze until you shifted on your feet and looked at the clock above his stove. “D’you want a ride?”

“Yeah, sure, thanks.”

He nodded, found his keys and said goodbye to the few friends that still hung around. You climbed into the passenger seat and remembered the last time you’d been here.

November, some leaves still lingered on trees when he’d offered to get Thai. Now, the approaching holidays seemed to hover in the backseat when he asked:

“So, are you going home soon?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, albeit a bit awkwardly. “Probably around the 21st, I think. Are you?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “I’ve got some promo stuff in LA when the album comes out, then some back here--but I’ll probably come up there right before Christmas.”

Quiet for a second, you thought about the trips you’d taken together, first class, fancy bathtubs, the private clubs he got to wait in at the airports.

Your own demons lurked nearby, right beside the threat of the holiday season. Trust issues, paranoia, anxiety, impulsive decisions. They mocked you and reminded you of the ghosts of relationships past when he stole a glance in your direction.

“Y’alright?”

“Yeah,” you said, looking over to him. Should you say it? Push the words up and out before they could root themselves any stronger in your gut? “How, uh--how are you doing?”

His right hand rested on the gear change, a tiny smirk when he repeated your question. “How am I doing?”

You nodded quickly.

“I’m doing alright,” he said. “How are you doing?”

“Good,” you said quickly, though it wasn’t the truth. He knew this, peered over quickly when the smirk had become a full blown smile. “What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged. “You seem...off tonight.”

“Ruth was nice.”

“Ruth?”

“That was her name, right?”

“She’s a friend of a friend,” he told you.

“You don’t have to explain,” you said.

“Smalls--are you alright?”

“Mhm.”

He let out a sigh, turned left onto your street and then let out a small laugh when you unbuckled, hand on the door like you were ready to tuck and roll. He pulled to a stop, put the car in park when he turned to you.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, opening the door.

“Y/N?”

You turned over your shoulder to see him, his features illuminated by the glow from the display in his car. “Yeah?”

You were halfway out the door, one foot on the wet pavement outside your flat when he said: “You could have just asked for the bracelet back.”

join the tag list here | talk to me | the playlist

AN: WOW. Okay I think this is seriously my favorite chapter. I knew from the start of this sequel that one of the biggest moments would be December 29th but from H's POV. This was so fun to write and SO MUCH HAPPENED in this chapter between EVERYONE!!!! Would love to hear your thoughts! Thank you as always for reading!

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You were less than satisfied with his reaction and response to the news, so by that evening--when you were sat in the living room of Jessie’s new flat and already regretting your choice of shoes--you only partially wished he was there.

“What’s got you so quiet?” Bryn asked from the doorway to Jessie’s bedroom. She held up two shirts, contemplating which to tug on.

“M’just tired.”

“Busy week, though, right? Finally met with America’s Next Top Model,” Jessie joked.

“Have you seen her? She’s not next,” Bryn corrected. “She’s it.”

“She was really nice,” you repeated what you’d already told them. “It went a lot better than I thought.”

“Did Harry have a thousand questions?” Jessie capped her mascara and then switched off the light in the bathroom. She came to sit near you on the couch.

“Not really--I mean, I told him it went well and that everything was rather tame.”

Bryn picked a fuzz off of the shirt she borrowed and looked in the mirror. “He was obviously just worried that she’d repeat negative things Zayn’s said about them, or the band or whatever.”

“Right,” you rolled your eyes. That was always where Harry’s head was at: work. Instead of seeing how huge of an opportunity this was for you, he focused on the things that could go wrong for him.

The growing distance between you was something you’d share with your best friends, right? Something you’d seek advice around or just even complain about over a cuppa or a cocktail. But with Bryn and Jessie and Harry and Jake and Adam, it wasn’t that simple.

You weren’t afforded the same luxury as a girl with a separate friend group from her boyfriend’s--you weren’t able to say how strange things felt unless you wanted to deal with the backlash: they’d all freak out, everyone would get awkward, people would feel like they had to pick sides. You wanted to avoid that at all costs.

You tried to push the thoughts out of your head, crammed into the back of a cab and finally found Jake and Adam inside the club with a few other uni friends. By the time you started questioning how rude and unsanitary it would be to take off your heels, Jessie squealed.

“Oh!” she perked up quickly, eyeing a text on her phone. “I forgot to mention that my coworker Jade is coming tonight, you’ll love her, she’s great. She just said she’s here,” she started scanning the crowd for her friend.

“How great?” Bryn wiggles her eyes in a suggestive manner, pulling a laugh from both of you.

“She’s fit--no clue who likes to sleep with though,” Jessie eyed Bryn. “You’ll have to battle Jake for her if you like her.”

“Jake always gets the cute girls,” Bryn let out a whine, you rolled your eyes and sipped at the vodka drink in hand before patting her on the shoulder.

“Only if they’re straight.”

“Right, which is always, lately.”

“Hi!” Jessie greeted, her arms wrapped around her new coworker when she made her way through the crowd. “Guys, this is Jade,” she tugged her into your circle.

“Hi,” Bryn said, a smile in the new girl’s direction. Long brown hair, darker skin, beautiful gold eye shadow. Bryn was smitten before you could even extend your hand in greeting.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.”

“Jade,” she nodded, “nice to meet both of you. I’ve heard a lot from Jessie--is the birthday boy here? Should I say hi before I get a drink?”

“Oh, he’s somewhere,” Jessie waved. “Go grab something and I’m sure he’ll turn up by the time you return.”

“Great, I’ll be back,” she waved at all three of you over her shoulder, disappearing into the crowd of bodies to head for the bar that was hidden somewhere behind the fog machine and flashing lights.

Bryn immediately grabbed Jessie’s elbow. “Are you kidding?” she said through gritted teeth. “She’s not fit--she’s incredibly fucking attractive and you didn’t think to give me a head’s up? I would have worn something more revealing.”

“Ouch,” Jessie tugged away from Bryn’s clutch and rubbed at the point of contact. “Relax--I told you, I have no idea if she’s gay.”

“Who’s gay?” Jake’s head was suddenly beside yours, Adam nudged his way in and draped an arm around Bryn’s shoulders.

“Aside from our lovely pal, here.”

“Why am I always the token lesbian?” she made a face at him.

Jake looked at you with confusion and then back to Bryn. “Because you’re the only gay one.”

“And thank God for that,” Bryn didn't miss a beat. “None of you are cool enough to be a lesbian.”

“I still don’t know who we were actually talking about,” Jake reminded.

“My coworker Jade--she just got here--she works in my department but she’s also still getting her PhD. She’s great but we don’t know if she’s gay.”

“And she’s coming back so everyone act natural,” Bryn rushed through the words, smiled again when Jade rejoined and introduced herself to the boys.

Jake and Adam were pulled away by friends, another round of shots at the bar in celebration. Jake had offered to buy you a drink, but you declined, still keen on watching Bryn try to gather up her cleavage to test Jade.

Besides, Jessie was rehashing her last failed relationship and it felt a bit rude to dip out right when she was getting to the best part of the story.

“He was a terrible human, irresponsible, lazy, going nowhere, honestly. But he had a huge dick--which was great, until he put it in Y/N’s little sister’s best friend.”

Jade let out a laugh at that and you saw Bryn roll her eyes--you’d both hated Oliver and it took Jessie a while to see his true colors.

“How on earth did that transpire?!” Jade asked.

“We were in uni--Katie, that’s Y/N’s sister--had come to town with a friend for Y/N’s birthday and we went to a club and a few drinks later we found them in the loo going at it.”

“We all knew it wouldn’t last but Jessie’s a stubborn one,” Bryn patted your friend on the shoulder.

“He was human garbage,” you agreed.

“Hey,” Jessi pointed a finger at you. “You’re not wrong, but that was the greatest sex I ever had. S’the type of stuff I play in my head late at night,” she wiggled her brows.

“Right,” Jade laughed. “As if that time you drunkenly made out with Harry Styles isn’t plenty of fuel for whatever fire you’re burning.” She lowered her voice when she said his name, looked at you and Bryn without the slightest clue to the weight of her words.

You blinked a few times, sure you’d misheard her over the noise of the dimly lit club. Your ears playing tricks or the vodka already straight to your head. “What?”

Jessie’s face was the brightest shade of red you’d ever seen it, her eyes doubled in size and her lips parted when you looked between the two of them.

“Did you not know that?” Jade giggled, an elbow into your side playfully. “Isn’t that the juiciest thing you’ve ever heard?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, eyes landing back on Jessie. “It is.”

Jade turned to Jessie. “You have a friend from home who’s dating him now, right? Who is she?”

You weren’t trying to be dramatic, you certainly weren't trying to cause a scene. You had no other option than to head for the door to escape the music and the sticky floor and the sweaty bodies.

If anything, you needed fresh air and some water, perhaps to sober up and understand the implication of the words that her new coworker had just muttered with a sly smile.

You felt her grab at your wrist, yanking it out of her hand as you wove through groups of friends. “Don’t follow me,” you said over your shoulder, trying to keep your voice tempered enough to avoid any stares from other patrons.

This was all a part of the curse: now you were well known enough to have someone whip out their cell phone and document any hint of drama if they recognized who you were. That was the last thing you needed in a moment like this.

“Y/N, wait, you don’t even know what she’s talking about.”

“What’s there to know, Jessie?” You spoke over your shoulder, pushing the door open and immediately feeling the relief of the cool air on the sidewalk.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” she skid to a halt in front of you.

“Really? Because it sounds like once upon a drunken time you snogged my boyfriend.”

“Well obviously it was ages ago, it’s not like you were together when it happened!”

“Oh, thank God,” you said sarcastically, suddenly unfazed by the volume of your own voice. “Because it’s not like I was in love with him for decades before that.”

Bryn appeared in the night air, arms over her chest as she looked between the two of you with wide eyes. “Alright, everyone calm down--”

“Jessie kissed Harry!” You pointed at your friend’s chest, tone accusatory as you felt tears well in your eyes. "How am I supposed to be calm about that?"

Sure, maybe it was five years ago, ten, maybe even twelve for all you knew. But the reality was this: the boy who you’d been in love with had kissed your smart-mouth best friend before he ever kissed you and somehow along the lines both of them neglected to mention that this had occurred.

Your mind was racing now, breath picking up speed as you turned around on the sidewalk to pace. Is this why Jessie was always so adamantly against you and Harry ending up together? Is this why she got annoyed with you so often in uni when you’d bring him up and why she pushed you to just get over him?

You whipped your head back to Bryn. “Why are you not equally as shocked by this?” She couldn't answer your question before your lips parted in shock. “You knew? You knew that Jessie and Harry--”

"Will you quiet down?" Bryn reached for your arm and tugged with force, causing you to stumble to a stop in front of her. "The last thing you need is for people to overhear you and for there to be headlines all over The Sun tomorrow morning, yeah?"

You let out a grunt of frustration, paced along the concrete again when Bryn tried to speak some sense into you.

A moment of silence before Bryn let out a breath--apparently pleased at her own ability to shut you up. “In her defense, it was a really long time ago and they were both drunk and it was basically meaningless.”

“Basically?!” You whisper-hissed.

“It was meaningless, Y/N,” Jessie nodded, her words pleading. “We were drunk and you had been all upset about--”

“I was upset and that meant you should kiss the boy I was pining over for our entire lives?!” You got louder and more emotional with every word.

“Okay,” Jessie shrugged, her eyes flashing over to Bryn. “Maybe I should go.”

“Maybe you should go,” Bryn nodded in agreement.

“You should both go,” you looked at them quickly, emotions flooding through your brain. Your arms were still crossed, you paced on the sidewalk and unfortunately, the mindless counting of steps did nothing to calm your pounding heartbeat. One, two, three.

Bryn let out a disappointed sigh--you weren’t sure why she thought you’d want her to stay if she’d known and kept another secret from you. Was there no such thing as honesty in this friend group?

They both retreated back inside the club, you contemplated calling Harry and ripping into him. Who cared if he was in the studio or at someone’s house or somewhere on a jet over the Atlantic. You’d barely heard from him over the past few days and now this?

Jake passed Bryn and Jessie on their way in, his eyes curious when he placed an unlit cigarette between his lips. He let the door shut behind them, took a few steps over to lean against the exterior wall of the club and watch you pace. “Do I want to know?”

“No.”

He stifled a laugh, let his smirk turn into a frown when you looked at him with daggers in your eyes. “Okay--let me ask again. Are you alright?”

“No.”

“This will be a lot easier if you just tell me what’s going on--we all know I’m a great listener.”

You ignored his joke and let your shoulders rise towards the sky in exasperation. “Well, as if my relationship wasn’t already on the rocks between Harry’s schedule and my schedule and all the bullshit that happens when you date someone who’s stupid and famous--”

Jake was taken back by the words that bubbled out of you. He held a lighter up to the butt and nodded so you’d continue.

“Come to find out that apparently sweet old Jessie and stupid, stupid Harry got it on once.”

“Got it on?”

You shrugged, maybe you were being dramatic. “Made out.”

“Oh, in 2011? Or 2012?”

“It happened multiple times?!” You took a giant step toward him.

“No! No,” he laughed a little when he pulled away from you. “I just don’t remember the year.”

“Well for fuck’s sake,” you sighed. “Glad to hear everyone knew. You lot are a bunch of liars--pathetic, stupid, ignorant liars.”

He ignored the insults you hurled, likely chalking it up to the alcohol you’d already consumed and the frustration you’d been feeling towards Harry.

“Alright, I’m sure she probably said the same thing and I’m sure you didn’t believe her, but it really was not a big deal. They were drunk, it was stupid. Pretty sure Harry said the next morning it felt like kissing his sister. And he’s never said that about you, for the record.”

You rolled your eyes. Maybe not before. Maybe now he was feeling distant and not attracted to you and maybe now this was just another wedge that was coming between you.

“Why wouldn’t she tell me that? Why would none of you tell me that if it wasn’t a big deal?”

“Maybe because we all wanted to avoid this.”

You shot him a threatening look, to which he only sighed.

“Oh, the tangled web we weave,” his words sounded like they were from an American Soap Opera script--Alyssa had made you watch enough one weekend you’d practically memorized half of the plots. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and flicked it agains the brick wall.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged a shoulder, the smug look on his face let you know he liked being the one you took drunk advice from. “You’ve known Harry forever, of course there’s going to be weird shit like this that pops up.”

“You say that as if him kissing Jessie is not a big deal.”

Another shrug.

“How is that not a big deal?!” You pressed.

“M’not saying it isn’t, I get how shitty it is that no one told you,” he was defensive now, words a bit slurred. “But don’t you think if there was something between Jessie and Harry, it would have already happened? I mean, come on, Jessie would never wait around like you did.”

“Ouch.”

“I just mean that she’s the most impatient human on the planet. You were extremely patient while Harry figured his shit out,” he tried to soften the blow.

His words stung a little, but you knew he was right. If they were actually interested in each other or if there was some kind of chemistry between them (aside from the way Jessie liked to smack him upside the head when he said something stupid), there was no way Jessie would be able to keep her big mouth shut or not force them into action long before you and Harry wound up the courage to sleep together after all those years.

“Haven’t you ever kissed anyone when you were drunk that you wouldn’t kiss sober?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, displeased with the way he was trying to turn it around. You let out a laugh when he raised his eyebrows at you.

“Everyone in uni, pretty much.”

“Right,” he shrugged. “M’not saying they shouldn’t have told you sooner, but, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

**

He’d gotten in late and a text message shortly after Jake talked some sense in you was the only reason you found yourself in an Uber headed for his after midnight.

He opened the door with a tired smile, one arm open wide to tug you into his side.

“You okay?” He looked down at you, eyes scanning your features, clearly aware that you were less than thrilled.

You contemplated holding it in. You figured that being drunk and tired and having not seen him in a few days was maybe not the best time to tell him you knew he kissed your friend and you knew that they all neglected to tell you the truth. Especially right after you just committed to staying in London for him.

“Fine,” you pulled away from him, dropped your jacket on the table in his foyer and kicked off your boots.

He shut the door and watched you hesitantly. “Yeah?”

“I know you kissed Jessie.”

His lips pushed forwards, formed the shape of an ‘o’ as if he’d been caught. He nodded slowly, trying to gauge your reaction as you headed for the couch.

“How’d you find out about that?”

“Jessie’s stupid friend, Jade. But good to know that everyone except for me is aware.”

You sat cross legged on the couch, crossed your arms as if you couldn’t be bothered to look him in the eyes. He stood motionless in the center of the room now, his brain likely flipping through his mental rolodex of apologies.

"Who's Jade?"

"Not the point, Harry!"

“Alright, listen, it was ages ago.”

“Ages?”

“2012, I think,” he waved a hand as if to remind you that it was almost a whole ten years ago.

“And why didn’t I hear about this from you or Jessica herself?”

He sighed and came to sit on the coffee table in front of you, elbows on his knees like he meant business. “Okay, in hindsight, I recognize that telling you probably would have been a good move, but back then I didn’t know that you had feelings for me.”

You let out a huff of air from your nose. His statement was fair--in 2012 you wouldn’t have ever dreamed of telling Harry that you’d been crushing on him since you were a teenager and that his rise to fame was simultaneously crushing your dreams of ending up with him.

In fact, at that point in time, you were almost avoiding Harry so as to ignore the feelings that bubbled inside of you every time you heard his band’s first big single on the radio.

You looked at him, wishing you could believe that he felt as sorry as he appeared, but the anger in your chest wasn’t easy to shake.

“What happened? How did you end up making out with her?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged. “It was some party at Adam’s house after one of our Manchester gigs.”

You blinked a few times, details falling into place. “So everyone was there? I was there? Your band was there?”

He shrugged his shoulders at that, voice softer. “Maybe Niall or Liam. But, yeah, you were there.”

You stood from the couch and started pacing again with your hands on your hips.

“So you mean to tell me that in Adam’s basement--the same one we’ve always partied in--you kissed Jessie Alby and she full on knew that I was into you and you’ve been dating me for,” you looked at a pretend watch on your wrist for dramatic effect, “a year and a half and you never thought it was important to tell me that you’ve hooked up with one of our best friends?”

He bit at his lip, a look of guilt in his eyes when you let out a laugh at his silence.

“Is she in love with you, Harry? Did you ever have feelings for her? Is that why she didn’t want us to get together? What else am I missing if I’m apparently in the dark about everything?!”

“You’re not in the dark about everything!” He stood up now, voice louder as you shook your head.

“Really? Because it seems like lately you’re constantly forgetting to tell me things. Dinners, meetings, trips!”

“You’re the one who didn’t tell me about your stupid cover with Gigi and the job in LA.”

“And you had the audacity to be upset with me about those things when you were sitting on the golden egg of secrets?!”

He rolled his eyes and walked towards the kitchen. “I don’t want to fight with you. You’re drunk.”

“Does that make my feelings invalid, Harry? Does that mean I don’t get to be mad?”

“I didn't say that, Y/N.”

“Well you’re not saying a lot lately. We barely talk and we barely see each other and this isn’t how I expected this to be.”

He reached for a glass above the sink and then moved to fill it. “I’m busy, and you’re busy--and yeah, it might not be as easy as when I wasn’t on tour and wasn’t recording an album and we could basically do whatever we wanted in New York.”

“And now I found out that you made out with Jessie.”

He set the glass down on the counter and turned around to face you. “We were plastered, Y/N! I probably would have made out with Niall!”

“Great, that makes me feel better.”

“We went upstairs to get a drink and then she needed to plug her phone in--I don’t even know how it happened.”

“Did you purposely not tell me that it happened?”

“What do you mean?” He let out an exasperated breath. His hair was pushed back under a hat, a jumper donned his figure and his eyes looked tired from the overseas flight.

“Did you and Jessie agree to not tell me it happened?”

He shrugged, looked around the room as if to avoid your gaze and to avoid the truth. “I mean, I don’t know why she didn’t tell you back then, but--yeah, I mean, when you and I started hanging out in New York and started hooking up, yeah. I told her not to bring it up.”

“So I’m the laughing stock of our friend group?”

“No!” He threw his hands up, clearly confused as to how you got from A to Z so quickly.

“First they all know that I liked you back then and when we were kids, and then they knew eventually that you liked me back but decided to not tell me and lie,” you recounted, lifting a finger for each crime they'd committed.

“You were with Charlie and I told them not to tell you that I liked you,” he tried to reason.

You ignored his explanation and kept talking.

A third finger, “and then I make a fool of myself in 2015 in that stupid bathroom because Jessie decides it would be funny to lock us in there--”

“M’pretty sure that was her attempt at being a matchmaker.”

“And then they keep hanging out with you and lying about it after I said I didn’t want to see you anymore because I was so embarrassed.”

“You’re forgetting the part where we reconnected and fell in love,” he said this like he was bothered by you, constantly trying to have a comeback for your anger-fueled monologue.

“All the while you were lying to me and told our friends to lie to me, too! How am I supposed to know what’s true and what isn’t?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t know,” he said it louder now, angrier and more harsh as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jumper. “You’re upset and I get it but I don’t think this is that big of a deal because it was years ago. And we’re together and we’re happy.”

“Are we happy? Because I never see you! And when I brought up how hard it is the other night to be your girlfriend, you got annoyed. And you were mad at me for even considering this job in LA.”

“Because I don’t want my girlfriend to move to the other side of the planet!”

“Well I live down the street and barely see you now.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

A shrug of your shoulders. “Maybe this isn’t working.”

He looked up at you, lips parted like he wanted to speak but didn’t know how.

“Maybe this was all just a stupid teenage crush and maybe we should have just left it in New York. Because now neither of us knows how to actually talk to each other and apparently none of us can be honest.”

“That’s not true,” he said, his voice more steady now. “It’s just hard.”

“Well maybe I don’t want hard, Harry. Maybe I want it to be easy and nothing about being with you has been easy.”

“Alright, now you’re just being a dick,” he shrugged his shoulders and headed for the stairs.

“No I’m not! You kissed my friend!” You shouted at him. “You lied to me! And you made our friends lie!”

“Fine,” he shrugged, turning around in the living room. “I’m a liar and a terrible boyfriend, and if it’s so hard to be with me then maybe you shouldn’t.”

“Fine,” you said, walking past him and into the foyer to grab your coat. You tugged at your boots and he followed behind you.

“You’re actually going to leave?”

“You just said I shouldn’t be with you!”

“We’re fighting, Y/N! We’ll talk in the morning and we’ll figure it out. We’re busy and we’re stressed.” His voice was quieter now but he was still annoyed.

You shook your head. “We’ve been busy and stressed before, Harry. This is different.”

“Can we just wait to talk about all this until you’re sober and m'not jet-lagged?”

You tugged at the handle of his front door. “I’m calling an Uber.”

“Y/N, I’ll drive you.”

“No,” you said, just to be defiant.

“So you’re going to stand here in my driveway and wait for an Uber?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m going to stand right here and wait until you get in it. And then I’m going to call you in the morning and we’re going to talk about this.”

“Maybe.”

He sighed again, leaned against the door frame and did what he said he would: he watched as you stood and kicked at the asphalt. Watched you climb in and drive away.

But he didn’t call the next morning.

**

December 23, 2011

You were stood in a big room at the Manchester Apollo, tables lined the walls with snacks and candy and water bottles. Jessie ran a hair through her straightened hair, Bryn was glued to the screen of her Nokia cell phone.

“S’a fancy in here,” you said.

“Seriously,” Jessie looked around. “S’like they proper made it.”

“I heard the place fits almost three thousand people,” Adam threw a handful of pretzels into his mouth and laughed. “Fucking nuts, innit? That many people want to see Harry dance around on stage?”

You smoothed out the dress that Jessie had convinced you to wear. You weren’t trying to impress him, no way. Clearly the universe had been conspiring against you long enough and at this point, you were considering any hope of a future with Harry to be a lost cause.

But that didn’t stop the flushing of your cheeks when he finally walked in, made his way down the line to hug each one of you and thank you for coming.

“Hi Smalls,” he smiled down at you, hands on your shoulders. “Have you grown?”

“Oh piss off,” you laughed. “An inch or two since the last time you came home, probably. Which was...what, a hundred years ago?”

“Alright, alright,” Harry rolled his eyes at you before he stepped back to see the others. The loss of contact between your skin and his made something drop in your stomach when he said: “I’m the worst friend ever, I know. You guys remember the boys, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jessie said with a casual shrug of her shoulder, one that let you know she wasn’t kidding when she said in the car she’d sleep with Zayn one day if it killed her.

Jake rounded the corner of the sofa and sat down, offered a wave to Liam when Adam and Niall embraced.

“Smalls, your sister isn’t here?”

You looked over to Harry, slightly embarrassed to realize he’d been watching you. His voice was quiet, directed at you rather than at the group as a whole. Your cheeks flushed a bit and you shifted your weight on your feet.

“Oh, no--my mum wasn’t too keen on the idea of me bringing a thirteen-year-old into Manchester and back, I guess.”

“No?” He smirked. “Can’t imagine why.”

You rolled your eyes, ignored the dimple that appeared on his cheek when Zayn and Adam took up residency on the far side of the table tennis set up.

“Alright shut it,” you crossed your arms.

“Are we giving Y/N shit about the time she lost Katie?”

Bryn could never pass up a good opportunity to laugh at you, and apparently, in front of Harry was no exception.

“I cannot believe I missed that,” Harry smiled.

“Better get used to it, H, you’re missing a lot these days,” you shot back.

Sure--losing Katie in a crowd at Gulliver’s World Theme Park wasn’t your best move as an older sister. But the only thing worse than the panic that flooded you entirely was the fact that your friends were yet to stop giving you shit about the mishap. Your parents were angry enough that you basically never wanted to be in charge again, but the chorus of constant we can’t believe you, how on earth did you was enough to wish you’d never even agreed to let her tag along on the day trip.

Harry got distracted eventually, though, he was tugged in a few different directions to get his hair touched up and to change his shoes. You were ushered out into the theatre and you did your best to fight the butterflies when they came on stage.

The idea of girls screaming for your friend, a boy you’d long dreamt about snogging, was enough to leave you in a state of shock on the drive back home. You piled into the back of Jake’s car and ignored the way Jessie smirked at you over her shoulder.

“Can I help you?”

“You love him,” she said quietly, thankfully Jake and Adam were too busy in the front discussing the upcoming plan for the night.

“I don’t love him,” you rolled your eyes. “I’ve moved on, he’s...a bit busy lately.”

Jessie stifled a laugh and made a knowing face at you. “Oh come on, you expect me to believe that him getting famous makes you like him less?”

“Oh leave her alone,” Bryn piped up from behind you. “Haven’t you been texting Nolan Truscott a lot lately?”

“Maybe,” you smiled at both of them.

“He’s insanely fit,” Bryn nodded.

“Says the one who likes girls,” Jessie’s forehead wrinkled in confusion.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t know a looker when I see one,” she wiggled her eyebrows at you.

You laughed and hoped they’d drop it, but on a rainy night speeding down the M6, you’d never be so lucky.

“You’re really saying you’re over Harry, like, totally not into him anymore?”

You shrugged, looked out the window for a minute at the passing farmland. “Of course I am. M’not an idiot that’s going to pine over someone who uses too much hair product now.”

“You don’t have to be,” Bryn said with a small smile, almost like she could see through your joke.

“Good for you,” Jessie nodded, apparently in full support of your words. “Nolan’s fit, Harry’s an idiot, always has been as we know. Cheers to a new Y/N that has moved on.”

She held up an imaginary glass and clinked it against your head, you elbowed her playfully and Bryn told both of you to shut it when Call Me Maybe came on the radio.

Jessie didn’t give you any more trouble and soon enough you were in Adam’s basement, a small Christmas tree in the corner dressed with ornaments you’d all decorated over the years. You’d already taken two shots, which is why it felt harder with each passing second to pull your eyes off the back of Mollie Amsbury’s head.

“Y’alright?” Bryn popped up beside you, her gaze following yours to see Mollie and Harry chatting near the antique pinball machine. Adam always said it was his dad’s pride and joy.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Fine.”

“You sure?”

“Sweet Brynnie,” you smiled over at her. “I am positively, absolutely chuffed to be here and to spend this lovely evening with our wonderful peers.”

She looked at you like you were crazy. “And I should believe you why?”

“Because I’ve decided that I’m going to kiss Zachary Bramhall tonight.”

“What happened to Nolan Truscott?”

“He’s not here,” you shrugged. “Visiting his gran in Brighton for the holiday.”

Bryn’s mouth formed an ‘o’ as she realized that you hadn’t given up altogether on whatever romance was possibly budding with Nolan, you just needed an eligible bachelor for the evening.

“Is Zach even here?” She scanned the room quickly for his dirty blond locks.

“He went upstairs to get me another drink,” you said casually.

“Oh,” Bryn smiled up at you, “I like the sound of that.”

“And when he gets back, I’m going to plant one on him right here, right in the sight-line of our pal Harold.”

“Oh,” Bryn’s face fell, concern etched in her features. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Relax, Bryn. S’fine. He’ll kiss me and perhaps it will strum up some jealousy in Harry and maybe he’ll feel so inclined to step in.”

“Or he’ll not realize that you’re scheming because you’ve never actually told him how you feel and so he’ll just let you kiss Zachary Bramhall like it’s none of his business.”

You looked down at your friend, unimpressed with her desire to poke holes in your plan.

“Or he’ll realize he loves you,” she acquiesced, her tone made it obvious she didn't believe her own words. “And perhaps he’ll propose marriage in his drunken stupor and impregnate you with his offspring right here on Adam’s sofa.”

You blinked a few times when she let out a laugh at her own joke. “What’s taking Zach so long, anyway? I just wanted a vodka-cran,” you looked around the room to gain focus.

“He’s not down here,” Bryn looked around again.

“Come with me,” you tugged her sleeve and pulled her towards the stairs, bounding up and towards the kitchen with speed in hopes that you could lure him back down to the basement and move forward with the evening as planned.

Bryn knocked into your back though, when you stopped at the top of the stairs and found Zachary Bramhall kissing Emma Thornton in the corner by the refrigerator, his hands around her waist and hers in his hair.

“Oh,” Bryn said when she peered over your shoulder. “He looks busy.”

You nodded, smiled down at Bryn and then came face to face with Harry as he climbed the stairs behind you, Jessie stumbling in tow.

“Hi,” he greeted, eyes catching yours for a second as you tried to blink away whatever emotion threatened to spill over. His hair was messy after the show, his eyes looked tired and his cheeks were red from the alcohol. He slung an arm around Bryn in his drunken state and then looked back at you.

“Hi, I--uh, m'gonna get some air,” you informed them all. Bryn didn’t chase after you, likely to downplay whatever reaction you were having and to not let Jessie or Harry in on your scheming.

You pushed the front door open, welcomed the crisp night air as you moved towards the bench along the front path to Adam’s house. There was a dusting of snow on the ground, mostly melted from a storm a few days before.

“Hi,” Jake’s voice was by the front door, he shut it behind him and brought his hands up to his face to breathe warm air on them. “S’fucking frigid out here--you better have a good reason for storming off.”

“I’m not storming off,” you said.

“No? Because it kind of looked that way when you stormed out of the kitchen and came out into the freezing winter night,” he shrugged as he came to sit beside you. “But what do I know?”

You laughed a little, leaned your head on his shoulder. “I’m an idiot.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I was going to kiss Zachary Bramhall and then he was kissing Emma Thornton.”

He looked over his shoulder and in one of the illuminated windows. “Yeah they were really going at it, huh?”

You sighed. “Whatever, s’fine. I’m stupid, he’s stupid, Harry’s stupid.”

“Oh,” he nodded, drawing out the one-syllable word when he looked up at the stars. “That’s what this is about.”

“No, it’s not. It’s about the opposite,” you told him.

He tilted his head to the side and furrowed his brow, an invitation for you to continue.

“We’re going to finish A-levels soon and we’ll go off to uni and I am going to find someone so amazing I’ll forget he ever existed.”

“Yes you will, Smalls.”

He put an arm around your shoulder to comfort you before he let out a sigh. You did the same but then stood up.

“Alright, enough sulking,” you said. “It’s freezing.”

He laughed and stood up. “Thank fuck,” he nodded, followed you back inside.

The living room was dark except for a light coming from down the hall--the direction of Adam’s bedroom. You heard laughter, Jessie’s voice was audible before she stumbled out. “Oh hi,” she clutched a hand to her heart, “you scared me.”

Harry appeared behind her, a smile on his face faded when he saw Jake’s arm around your shoulders. “Where were you two?”

“Just having a chat outside,” you said with an innocent shrug of your shoulders. “Where were you two?”

“Harry left his phone in Adam’s room,” Jessie said quickly. “Wanted to make sure no one got a hold of it.”

Jake let out a laugh, “too many celebrity tits on there?”

“Oh piss off,” Harry laughed, shoving his phone in his pocket. “Wouldn’t you like to know!”

“Alright,” Jessie waved them off, taking a step forward to link her arm in yours. “Need another drink?”

**

Present day

It was afternoon when he texted, almost time for supper when your phone buzzed and you stared at it on the coffee table. Bryn was sat beside Jake on the floor, they both watched and seemed to silently ask ‘are you going to read that?’

Your eyes were swollen from emotion, Bryn had smudged eyeliner on her cheeks, Jake took another swig of water before saying: “open it.”

Harry S (4:56pm): I’ve been asleep all day, feel like shit from the time change. Let me know if you want to talk.

“If I want to talk?” You looked at them, tossing the phone onto the floor. Maybe there wasn’t a right or wrong way to have a fight with your significant other, but he didn’t even seem to be trying to say the right thing or repent for his wrongdoing.

“Well at least he hasn’t been ignoring you all day,” Jake shrugged.

You let out a sigh, leaned back on the couch and squeezed your eyes shut.

“Not for nothing, Smalls, but you said last night that things have been bad between the two of you lately.”

Your head snapped up, embarrassed that drunk Y/N had let it slip. Bryn’s forehead wrinkled and she looked at you.

“No--it’s fine, it’s just--I don’t know,” you groaned.

What were you supposed to say? The job offer in LA was such a big part of it that without that detail, the rest of the story might not make any sense.

“Smalls,” Jake eyed you more seriously now.

“We’ve been distant,” you shrugged, pulling your knees up to your chest as you contemplated what other information to divulge. “He’s been busy at work and I’ve been busy and I didn’t tell him at first about the Gigi interview and he was annoyed about that but he’s just been moody lately. I mean, you saw him the other week at dinner. He practically had a strop before we showed up and--”

“And what?” Bryn asked.

“It’s just been getting harder. His job makes it all really difficult.”

“You just need to talk to him, Y/N,” she reassured. “I believe you, and I can only imagine, but you and Harry have something so special.”

“Do we?”

“Of course you do,” Jake said, laying down on the ground to stretch his hungover limbs. “And the fact that he and Jessie kissed is not a good enough reason to not be with him.”

Right, of course that’s how this appeared to them. Like you were being dramatic and stupid and simply overreacting to a drunken mistake a few years back.

You didn’t reply, you didn’t have the energy to explain yourself anymore than you already had. Jake closed his eyes and Bryn got up to turn on the kettle. After fifteen minutes had passed and you were almost certain Jake was asleep, there was a knock on the door.

Bryn froze, you froze, and Jake’s eyes opened instantly as he pushed himself up on his elbows.

“Y/N? S’me,” his voice was muffled through the door.

You looked at Bryn and Jake and they hopped into action. Bryn grabbed her purse on the end table and Jake reached for his coat, they headed for the door and opened it, greeting him on their way out.

“Hi Harry, bye Harry,” Jake said, a clap on his shoulder when Bryn offered a grin.

“Good luck! Love you both.”

He stepped inside awkwardly, shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat after he shut the door quietly behind them.

“Hi.”

“What do you want?”

“To talk about everything you said last night," he said this as if it was obvious.

You rolled your eyes and padded over to the kitchen to pour a cup of tea. He looked like he was about to ask for some, but you emptied the contents of the kettle into your cup before setting it back down.

A fake smile, “sorry, none left.”

“Y/N, what’s happening?”

“You’re the one who kissed someone else.”

“Before I knew you had feelings for me.”

“One of my best friends--”

“I should have told you.”

“You should have,” you nodded, hands around your teacup.

He was quiet for a minute and you wondered if Jake and Bryn actually went inside Jake’s flat across the hall or if they had their ears pressed to the front door.

“Do you actually think this isn’t working?”

You dropped his gaze and looked to the floor, “do you think it is working?”

“I mean,” he shrugged, “it’s been hard lately. I get that. But I don’t think that means we shouldn’t be together.”

“You’re busy all the time. You’re always on your phone and your job sucks, okay? I’m sorry, I know you love it. But it’s difficult to be the one who always has to move her schedule to fit around yours.”

“It’s not easy being me, y’know.”

You scoffed, walked out of the kitchen and into the living room as you shook your head. “Unbelievable.”

“Unbelievable?”

“Yes, Harry, it’s unbelievable to me that you have the nerve to say that after you’ve cancelled our plans, been late to events, and then neglected to tell me that you and Jessie have history.”

“You’re being ridiculous! Do you hear yourself? It was so long ago I barely even remember it.”

“Happy for you.”

“You’re seriously going to end our relationship over this?”

You turned to look at him quickly, a lump in your throat when you saw the look in his eyes.

Thai food, drunk nights at Adam’s, concerts in New York and birthday dinners. Sundays lounging in his bed, your trip to LA and the way he hummed along to the radio. The happy moments existed and that was something you’d never deny. But loving Harry had long been a difficult journey and one that often left you wounded and insecure.

His forehead was wrinkled, he kept his eyes trained on you as if you held enough power in your hands to shatter his world into pieces.

But it wasn’t that simple, and maybe you should have told him. Instead, you nodded.

“Yes.”

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All of your friends were close by.

Traveling back to Holmes Chapel was much easier when it didn’t include a 6 hour flight.

Everyone knew what you meant when you said bollocks and you no longer needed to worry about getting a side eye from coworkers when it slipped out in a meeting.

Going home to see your parents was now something you did quite frequently.

Your younger sister, Katie, had moved to London upon the completion of Uni last spring, as did Jessie when she finished her PhD program in May.

Bryn had been promoted and moved to the London office of her finance firm last year, and you’d managed to secure a flat across the hall from where Jake and Adam were now living.

Oh, and Harry’s house was only 8 minutes from yours.

You dodged the rush-hour foot traffic when you headed for the tube, the vibrating in your pocket was sure to be Jessie, already complaining about the weather on her official move-in day.

It was a quick ride to her new flat after she confirmed that you were on your way, only 10 minutes towards Finsbury Park and by the time she opened the door and you shrugged off your raincoat, Bryn had brought the last box up from the truck they’d rented.

“Innit spacious?” Jessie smiled, spinning around the living room with her arms stretched wide. “Much better than sleeping on the floor of Bryn’s.”

Bryn, who looked utterly displeased with Jessie’s words, shoved the box toward your friend. “Well if it weren’t for my floor you’d have been homeless in London.”

“No I wouldn’t,” she made a face. “Y/N would have let me stay with her--or Harry, Lord knows he has the room.”

You rolled your eyes, they were quick to make jokes about Harry’s house or Harry’s money and now that the two of you had been officially official--as Bryn had deemed--for a year and a half, they started asking the obnoxious questions you knew were coming.

When are you going to just move in with him? You sleep there most nights out of the week anyways. Where’s the ring? How many babies do you want?

Jake and Adam were no better, truthfully, seeing as their two-bedroom that faced yours had an outdated kitchen that had them cooking dinner in yours quite often, meaning any forward advancement in your relationship might be a threat to their wellbeing. How on earth will we eat if Y/N moves to Harry’s and we don’t have access to this type of counter space?

Another knock on the door revealed Jake, hair dripping from the rain outside when he stepped onto Jessie’s new hardwood floors. “Could do without the weather, yeah?”

“Try lugging her shit out of the truck while it’s pouring and then up those stairs,” Bryn cracked, tossing him a tea towel from an open box, presumably one with kitchen supplies.

“Aren’t you all glad I’m here, though?” Jessie slung an arm around your and Jake’s shoulders, grinning up at each of you. “S’like uni all over again.”

Right--the few years you were all on the same continent, minus Harry, of course. Bars and clubs and nights too drunk to remember when you were just trying to get over a guy you’d never even dated. Hard to do when his face was on magazines and his voice was all over the radio.

Now he slept with his arm across your waist most nights and when he wasn’t in the studio recording his next album, he was sat in your flat doing a word-search while you typed up your latest story.

“Where’s Adam?” Bryn asked, arms over her chest. “If we’re here to help Princess Jessie unpack, we need all the hands we can get.”

Jake shrugged in reference to his roommate’s location. “Should be here soon, unless he gets stuck on another math textbook.”

The door pushed open in the middle of his sentence. Adam, who caught the latter half of Jake’s joke, offered him an unimpressed glance and wiped his boots on a welcome mat--Jessie’s first personal touch. “Very funny.”

Adam’s new job--editing uni textbooks for a publishing company downtown--paid better than his last gig but still didn’t leave him feeling incredibly fulfilled. But he was happy to pay his bills and spend his free time screaming at the telly with Jake in your living room or tagging along to weekly group date nights.

When you first moved to London after losing your job in New York, you didn’t really know how things would look. Sure--living a few blocks from Harry in the village made it easy to fall for him all over again, like you were sixteen and waiting for a text back.

But in London, you were sure it would be different. You’d need a job, he’d be back in the city he now called home with his other celebrity friends and all the obligations that came with being who he was. Tour, interviews, writing and recording.

A part of you wondered if it’d fizzle out, whatever chemistry between you was perhaps destined to be a silly hook up that didn’t stand a chance in the long run. A phase or a fling until he realized that school-aged crushes were better left in the past, or across the Atlantic.

A month went by, dinner on his couch and brunch dates up North with his sister and mum became regular activities. You settled into routine and Harry made no move to end your relationship. In fact, he did the opposite. He gave you a key to his house and introduced you to his other friends.

Eventually Jake and Adam started inviting themselves along on your dinner dates, and when Bryn got her promotion she started coming, too. Your younger sister Katie joined once in a while when she got hired at a PR firm and got a flat with a friend from uni and soon Jessie accepted a position teaching creative writing at University of Westminster, meaning somehow, glasses of wine and plates of tapas with Harry soon became group outings. Full circle, really.

Your relationship with him had always existed within the context of your friend group--the people you’d known since childhood and the ones who knew the entire story. Start to finish, beginning, middle, and end. Then the second act, the secret sex in New York and all of the ups and downs in between.

“Alright,” Jessie looked around the room, suddenly she meant business and Jake offered her a salute in jest when Adam stifled a laugh.

“You two, bring each box to the room corresponding with the label, yeah? Then you can get cracking on my bed frame.”

You smirked, Jessie called the shots and everyone moved into action. You sat on the kitchen floor and unwrapped plates and dishes, handing them up to Bryn when Jessie teased the boys in the other room about their ability to use an allen wrench.

“Harry’s coming by, yeah?”

“Should be,” you looked up at Bryn. “Talked to him on my way here and he said he was leaving soon, but I know he had meetings today with people from his record label.”

“Of course Jessie had to move on a Thursday,” she rolled her eyes. “I’d rather be at Barrafina sipping on wine, but, at least we’re all in the same place again.”

The sentiment had been echoed for the last year. When you all trekked home for the holidays last year, your nights at the Red Lion were spent listing off the things you had to do once everyone was back in London for good.

Those last two words had been sprinkled into conversations like your lease in Camden was permanent or like somehow you’d grown roots that now tied you to the streets of the city.

You loved London and being back in the UK had been great, but you couldn’t shake the anxiety that seemed to linger overhead whenever the entire gang clinked their glasses together in a dimly lit pub and said here’s to being back together again.

Bryn answered the knock on the door and found Harry, his greeting in your direction pulled you out of your head and back to the slightly slanted floor of Jessie’s new kitchen.

“Hi baby,” he came and pressed a kiss to your forehead, shrunk out of his jacket when Jessie appeared in the doorway.

“Harold, nice of you to join us finally. Hopefully you know how to put some furniture together,” she crossed her arms.

Harry raised his eyebrows in your direction at her tone but slipped into the bedroom and greeted the boys. Jessie--who returned after a few seconds of barking more orders--decided that Bryn was stacking the plates wrong, so she reached up to re-do her hard work.

“So, given it any thought?”

Her question was pointed at you, but you looked up and waited for her to say more when you unwrapped a mug.

She took your raised brows as a cue to clarify. “You know--moving in!”

“Oh, come on, Jessie,” you sighed. “I told you, things are fine the way they are. I like having my own space.”

She blinked a few times and shrugged. “And you don’t think you’ll be able to find space in his mansion?”

It wasn’t a mansion. Sure--it was bigger than Adam’s parents and your parents’ houses put together, but that didn’t justify the label that Jessie liked to casually throw around.

“It’s complicated, Jessie, alright?”

“Give the girl a break!” Bryn came to your rescue, glasses perched on her nose when she ignored Jessie’s restacking. “Clearly they have something good going and she doesn’t want to mess anything up.”

“Exactly,” you nodded, appreciative of her support. “At least someone understands it.”

“I understand it,” Jessie said. “I just think the two of you might need a swift kick in the arse again like you did in New York.”

You faked a laugh in her direction, thought back to your midnight walks and sneaking around with the boy who’d already broken your heart once.

You hadn’t meant to fall for Harry as hard as you did. You worked hard to ignore the stomach ache you’d get when you heard his songs at the bar in uni, forged a path for yourself and made new friends who didn’t know your connection to the famous boyband. Moved to a different country and felt confident that you were officially and undeniably over him.

But then the universe picked him up and dropped him a few blocks west from you on the island that you thought was Harry-free. (Few places were, afterall, when he’d shot to international stardom as you earned a bachelor’s degree.)

Getting over him once was hard enough, you didn’t want to have to do it again.

So after the drama that New York had brought, you didn’t want to rush it. It felt safer to just appreciate what you had. No questions, no pushing for the next step, just enjoying the fact that your new boss at The Face knew who your boyfriend was and now there were no secrets.

But moving back to London brought more attention to your budding relationship than you could have imagined. It took a while to get used to the stares and the special treatment that came along with being written about in tabloids. Harry Styles and Hometown Girlfriend enjoy brunch with popstar’s sister, Harry Styles and Y/N L/N through the years, Who is Y/N L/N and how can we be her friend?

The attention you’d gotten on the internet had started to grow when you documented your experience as a Brit in New York, before Harry had even reentered your life. Bagels, lox, Central Park, your cheeky tweets about adjusting to America seemed to be a hit. You made a name for yourself in the pop-culture journalism scene and had been eager to do it without the aid of labels like Harry’s childhood pal. Apparently dating him made all of that fly out the window.

The two of you did the best you could to keep your relationship private, and sometimes, it felt like it was harder to keep things hidden from your friend group than it was the paparazzi.

“Is there something you’re not telling us?”

You looked up at Jessie, unsure how she’d gotten that from everything you hadn’t said.

“No,” you sighed. “Leave it, alright? He can probably hear us.”

They both looked over their shoulders, laughter was audible from the other room and so was a thud, Jake stuck his head out to offer a nervous grin and to promise Jessie that everything was alright and nothing got scratched or chipped or dented.

And you were glad to have her here--in fact, everyone being in London was exciting and it did feel like uni and you got excited just thinking about all of the things you could do as a group. That is, if Harry wore a hat and sunglasses and tried to keep a low profile.

He sat next to you that evening, a box of Indian food on his lap atop Jessie’s new rug. He’d helped you line it up and roll it out, you stacked her books on the corners to help it lay flat and now, she watched everyone closely to ensure no drips or stains in her first 24-hours.

“Hey,” Jake reached his elbow over to nudge you, a wiggle of his eyebrows. “We have to take Harry to Miller’s.”

“Oh absolutely,” Adam laughed, a nod in your direction when you felt your cheeks flush pink.

“Whasthat?” Harry spoke through a full mouth, brow furrowed when he looked at you.

Jake leaned back and sipped on the beer that he’d brought from an off license across the street. “S’Y/N’s favorite pub--used to get smashed there almost every weekend in uni.”

You went to different schools, the five of you, but when the stars aligned and train tickets were cheap, everyone would spend the night drunk at a basement pub and then fall asleep on the floor of someone’s dorm room by sunrise.

“S’not my favorite,” you looked at Harry sheepishly. “But it is the place I got banned from for a year.”

His nostrils flared in shock and he swallowed the bite he chewed. “You got banned from a pub?”

“She danced on the table and then threw up in the hallway,” Bryn filled him in, a pitiful nod in your direction. “Right on the shirt of the security guard.”

“Because Jake was feeding her shots, though,” Jessie added.

It was true, but they were leaving a key detail out. You’d shown up at the bar broken-hearted, and for once, not by Harry. When things with your uni boyfriend, Charlie, were heading south, you felt pathetic and sorry for yourself that nothing ever went the way you wanted.

You remedied that by slinging back shots of vodka and pretending it didn’t burn your throat.

“It was a rough night,” Jake nodded when his eyes met yours. Apparently your idiot friends were bright enough to leave out the reason for your sloppy behavior.

Adam leaned forward to make sure everyone was on the same page: “So we absolutely have to go and relive it.”

“Let’s not,” you laughed. “We can go, but my dancing will be on the floor only and hopefully I don’t spill the contents of my stomach on anyone.”

“Sounds cute,” Harry teased, another forkful of food into his mouth.

That night you fell asleep in your own bed, trying to ignore the pit in your stomach when you thought about what Jessie had said: just move in with him already, we all know it’s going to happen.

As much as you hated to admit it, Jessie was right, but not about your living arrangement. There was something you weren’t telling them and as per usual, she could sniff out your anxiety like a trained police dog.

You woke on Friday to an unseasonably sunny day in London, a phone call from him interrupting your morning coffee as you swiped on mascara in your bathroom mirror.

“Hi,” you said excitedly into the phone. “I was thinking we could see a movie tonight,” you suggested, eager to have some alone time with him, you know, sans friends. Maybe you’d finally be able to talk to him about your worries and fears.

“HI lovie,” he said, his voice considerably less cheery than yours. “S’actually why I was calling. I know this sucks but, I just talked to Jeff and I’ve got to go to some dinner thing. I guess there are record execs in town and it would look shitty if I didn’t have dinner with them.”

You let out a sigh, capped the mascara and took another swig of the coffee.

“Can we do tomorrow night?” He asked.

“Can’t,” you shook your head. “I’ve got that thing with Naomi, remember?”

“Right,” he said as if suddenly he knew it was your coworker's birthday. You knew he forgot, but you weren’t going to call him on it.

“And then next week I start working on the November cover issue, so Sunday I shouldn’t stay up late, and the week itself will be really busy.”

Harry sighed into the phone. As things had picked up for you at work and as things were going full speed ahead to finish his album, finding time to see each other became harder and harder.

Which is why you didn’t want Jessie or Bryn or any of the gang pushing him about moving in together. A part of you thought it sounded nice--at least at the end of your long days or busy weeks you could come home to each other and sleep in the same bed. Having more than a toothbrush and some pajamas there would make life easier.

He sounded bothered. “Alright, Y/N, s’fine then.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re always busy,” he said--you imagined him sitting at the island in his kitchen, a cup of tea in front of him or maybe even a muffin.

“You’re the one who’s calling me to cancel our plans tonight,” you reminded, feeling defensive.

It wasn’t fair to try to put this on you. You were the one with a mostly 9-5 job and you were the one who didn’t have to change plans at the last minute for record execs or managers or whoever it was that suddenly needed Harry to drop everything.

But apparently pointing this out only made him more annoyed.

A more audible sigh this time when he informed you: “I’m trying, here, Y/N.”

“So am I,” you walked back out to the kitchen. 8:34am. If you didn’t get out of the house in the next six minutes, you were sure to be late. “S’not my fault that I finally landed my first cover story and that you’ve got an album to finish.”

“I know,” he sounded more calm now. “Just want to be with you, is all.”

You bit your tongue--this was one of the moments where moving in together sounded ideal and you wanted to tell him your news. But would the risk of too much togetherness be worse than living in separate places in separate neighborhoods and sleeping in separate beds? And what happened if you didn’t stay in London at all?

He dropped it at that, said he hoped you had a good day and agreed to let you know what time he was out of dinner that evening. If you were still up, he’d come by and maybe you’d watch an episode of something on Netflix before you both fell asleep.

You’d pretty much take anything you could get.

The ride to your office was quick and easy with the good weather. Naomi was smiling when you walked in and reminded you about the plans you’d dreamed up during lunch a few weeks back.

“So you can come to mine, we’ll get dinner--just take away or something--head out and meet up with the others.”

“Sounds perfect,” you assured her.

She’d invited Harry at first, a small smile on her face as if she knew you’d shoot her down. That’s sweet, you had told her, but him being there will definitely make the night more difficult.

So maybe that was part of it. Being in a relationship with Harry and people knowing about it--that changed things. You were no longer living in your tiny, private bubble, sneaking him in and out of your apartment in new York and wondering what would happen if your friends found out.

Back then you spent most nights wishing you could just tell everyone--your coworkers, your boss, Jake and Jessie and the gang. Keeping Harry a secret felt confining and claustrophobic.

Now that level of secrecy felt nice, the two of you hiding away and spending your nights in his living room with beer and pizza. The grass is always greener, right?

The truth is that navigating your relationship with Harry was harder than you expected. You thought, at first, that having known him for so long would make it easy. You knew his favorite meal, knew his family and his gran. You knew what types of movies he likes and you knew, above all else, that you’d never loved anyone as much as you loved him.

Which is what you tried to remember in the difficult moments like this. Naomi’s eyes looked at you with a hint of curiosity. “Y’alright?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, sitting down at your desk and turning on your computer. “Just busy lately, is all.”

“How’d Jessie’s move go?”

“Fine,” you shrugged. “I think she’s just glad to have her own space and not be sleeping on a floor. She’s a bit of a princess.”

“I can relate,” Naomi laughed playfully and inspected her own perfectly manicured nails as she sat on the corner of your desk.

You were about to divulge the real reason for your mediocre mood when Tyler walked in with a big grin, a travel mug of tea in his right hand and a manilla folder in his left.

“Okay, you are actually going to love me.”

“Why’s that?” You eyed him skeptically, watching as he put the folder down and pulled out a piece of paper. It was a bit early for both of your work friends to be in your office and this excited, but you were grateful for the distraction.

“I have gathered every interview that Gigi Hadid has ever done where she talks about Zayn.”

Right--your first cover story. If the stress of being trusted with your first cover wasn’t enough on top of the stress in your relationship and your sudden anxiety about if you were meant to stay in London forever, knowing that you had a three hour date planned with Gigi Hadid in two weeks was just icing on the cake.

Tyler, who was your editor’s right hand man, had fought hard for you to get this story and his main selling point, naturally, was that both you and Gigi were dating former band members of One Direction.

You didn’t want to harp on that. You’d tried to talk your way out of it: it might be awkward, she might get upset if I ask, how do we even know she’ll answer those questions…

But Donna, longtime editor-in-chief of The Face, thought Tyler’s idea was great and that having you interview Gigi only meant more headlines and more traffic to the website.

Again, at this point you were taking what you could get.

“Alright, I know that Zayn will come up, but don’t you both think this could go incredibly sour?”

Tyler looked at Naomi with wide eyes and let her handle your anxiety.

She sighed and moved to sit in a chair nearby. “You said Harry and Zayn haven’t really spoken, right?”

“He said he hasn’t heard from him since like 2016,” you shrugged. “But I haven’t told him why I asked.”

This piqued Tyler's interest. He stopped shuffling through papers in the folder and looked up at you. “Wait, you mean that you haven’t told him that she’s the subject of your November cover?”

“No,” you admitted. “And I’m not really in the mood to tell him now and fight about another thing.”

“Are things not going well?” Tyler took a seat opposite your desk and you blew a quick puff of air between your lips. You eyed the door and Naomi took it as a cue to get up and shut it, sealing off your office to afford privacy for a totally not work related conversation.

“He’s just busy finishing his album, which you’re both sworn to secrecy about, yeah? He hasn’t announced it.”

They both nodded eagerly, and despite the look of desperation in their eyes for the juicy gossip of your headline-making love life, you knew you could trust them. Another sigh.

“He’s busy, I’m busy, we don’t live together so there are days when I don’t see him,” you trailed off, let your shoulders rise and fall as if you didn’t know what else to say.

Tyler, apparently, could see through this. He narrowed his eyes. “What? There’s something else.”

You looked through the glass that separated your office from the hallway where your coworkers buzzed about busily, unsure if you should divulge another detail.

“Okay,” Naomi leaned back. “Spill it.”

“I had an interview for a job in LA.”

“What?” Tyler asked, his voice quiet and his eyes wide. Naomi’s mouth opened in shock, they both didn’t see this one coming.

“I know--I wasn’t looking, I swear. Someone reached out to me and asked about my interest in being on-air.”

Tyler’s eyebrows furrowed wildly and he looked from Naomi back to you. “Who is it?!”

“E! News.”

They both gasped, excited smiles on their faces when you tried to hush them. “I have no idea if I’m even going to go, alright? I don’t even know if I’m interested.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Tyler asked. “The sunshine and the ocean and America?!”

“Right, already done that though.”

“New York is way different than LA,” he argued.

You shot him an amused smirk. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Of course he doesn’t,” Naomi cut in. “But it’s an amazing opportunity and you would love that, right?”

You let your head tilt from side to side in thought. You’d always wondered what it would be like to be in front of the camera instead of behind the keyboard. As a kid you’d film your own news shows and wrote your own fake scripts as you interviewed Barney and Big Bird and all of those childhood celebrities alike.

It was flattering, at the very least, that someone thought you were cool enough and good enough to even apply for an opening like that.

So when that email came through a week earlier and you were already feeling insecure about your relationship due to the lack of cohabitation, the thought of Los Angeles felt appealing.

What were you supposed to do? Follow Harry wherever his career took him and not look out for yourself? Were you expected to just wait around to see if this would ever amount to more than take away containers and sleepovers and trips to see your family over long weekends?

You felt silly, really, for thinking that you could have some type of normal relationship with Harry--one that followed the traditional timeline and had a destination and goal of ring, house, kids, like you’d so often pictured for yourself.

You loved him, of course, but that didn’t mean you could have the life you wanted with him.

“I mean, I’m interested, and the interview went well, I think. I haven’t heard back from them yet.” you shrugged. “But I don’t know if I would even take it, and I certainly don’t need anyone finding out about any of this, okay?”

Tyler gestured that his lips were zipped and Naomi nodded as if to promise that your secret is safe with us.

**

Somehow Jessie and Bryn had invited themselves to Naomi’s birthday. They’d met her a few times before and while Naomi wasn’t yet at the point of frequenting your flat or group hang outs, she was happy to have more smiling faces at a club she’d picked out near Mayfair.

Saturday nights were crowded and too loud, as far as you were concerned, but Bryn was having the time of her life hitting on Naomi’s younger sister and Jessie seemed eager to find another cocktail to suck down.

Despite the fact that Bryn and Jessie were your plus ones, you were almost ready to leave them here for the night and catch a ride back to Harry’s--a glass of water and stretching out in his king-sized bed for the night sounded superb.

You would have requested an uber, in fact, your finger was ready to pull up the app when a friend of Naomi’s from uni had managed to squeeze in between you and Jessie. She smiled timidly when she stuck a hand out to introduce herself.

“You’re Y/N, right?”

“I am, hi,” you smiled back at her, wondering if she’d heard about you through the mutual friend grapevine or if there was an ulterior motive at play.

“Yes, she’s dating Harry Styles, no, he’s not as cool in real life,” Jessie spouted off quickly, black cocktail straw between her lips. The girl let out an embarrassed laugh but smiled at your friend before looking back to you.

“It’s so cool that you’re dating him! I love your work, too, that interview you did with him in 2018 was amazing.”

“Oh, thank you,” you forced a smile, wondering if she had anything else to say to you. She didn’t apparently, she nodded a little and offered Jessie another smile before she turned and headed back to the other girls mingling about the table.

“That’s getting old,” you muttered to Jessie, scanning the room to find where Naomi had run off.

“Well, part of the territory, no?”

You sighed, ignored her question when she turned to face you more. “Are you sure there’s nothing up? You seem weird lately.”

Her curiosity felt more genuine than it did the other day. Maybe it was the fact that your boyfriend wasn’t on the other side of the wall and the noise in the club offered more privacy.

“Just busy with work is all. Harry’s been busy, a lot going on.”

She eyed you suspiciously and sipped at her drink. “Alright,” she sighed. “I know I have a lot of opinions and don’t always know when to keep my mouth shut, but if there’s something going on you can tell me.”

You wanted to, you were desperate for advice from a friend who knew you as well as you knew yourself. But if there’d been anything you learned over the last few years, it was that this friend group struggled to keep things private and while you loved them all dearly, it was too soon to let the cat out of the bag--especially if you hadn’t even told Harry.

“M’alright,” you laughed. “But I could use a shower and a snack and honestly, the music here kind of sucks.”

She rolled her eyes and let out a loud laugh. “No shit--honestly sounds like someone gave the aux to a fourteen-year-old.”

So you managed to escape the night without having to say too much. Jessie and Bryn were happy to head out around midnight and you soon sat in the backseat of an uber on your way to Harry’s.

He was in the shower when you got home, the water shut off when you sat on the edge of his bed and toed off your boots.

“Hi,” he greeted, towel around his waist and a cloud of steam behind him when he pulled open the door. “How was Naomi’s party?”

You smiled up at him as he pressed a kiss to your forehead on his way to his dresser.

“Fine,” you sighed. “One of Naomi’s friends was obviously only talking to me because of you.”

He met your eyes in the mirror, ran a brush through his hair. “Did she say that?”

“No, but she came up to introduce herself and Jessie cut to the chase and confirmed that yes, I’m really your girlfriend.”

He rolled his eyes when you unclasped your necklace. “What?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head. “I just--I dunno, I feel bad that it bothers you.”

“It only bothers me when it makes me feel like I can’t just be myself around people. Y’know, make friends or be normal and just talk to people.”

“And you felt like that tonight?”

“I feel like that most nights,” you replied without much thought, falling back onto his mattress and tracing shapes on the ceiling.

He let out a short and sarcastic laugh, unamused as he dropped his towel and pulled on a pair of boxers.

“What’s the laugh for?”

“I don’t want to fight tonight.”

“We’re not fighting,” you said casually, thrown off by the change in his mood. “M’just being honest.”

“How was work this week?” He changed the subject quickly, came to sit on the bed.

You bit your lip, looked up at him and offered a smile. Maybe now was as good a time as ever.

“Fine,” you sat up. “But I wanted to talk to you, actually, about my cover story.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you stood, used both hands to pull your blouse up and over your head. If you didn’t have to look at him, it’d be easier to admit. “About my subject.”

His eyebrows dipped together as if he should have remembered but forgot. You didn’t draw attention to the fact that you’d managed to leave out that detail. “Who is it again?”

You tossed your blouse onto the floor and then pushed your jeans down to your ankles, stepped out of each leg before you looked back to see him.

“Gigi Hadid.”

His eyebrows lifted, a slow nod as he took this in.

“Sometimes it changes at the last minute and Donna’s been known to switch peoples’ months and everything, so--that’s why I hadn’t told you yet.”

He let out a long sigh, now it was his turn to lie back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling.

“Are you upset?”

“I mean, I wish it wasn’t her.”

You bit back a smile. “At least it’s not Zayn.”

He didn’t appreciate your joke.

“It’ll be awkward, though, obviously. And obviously Donna wants you to do it because of the history and the--y’know--connection.”

You stood half-naked in front of him and pushed out words you didn’t really mean. “I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.”

“No,” he waved you off, sat up now and met your gaze. “I’m happy that you’re doing it. I trust you. But please don’t let Tyler convince you to ask terrible questions.”

The corners of his mouth tugged into a smirk and he stood from the bed. He opened his arms and moved towards you, tugging you into him and then resting his chin on your hair.

“I miss you,” he said. “I know you’re here, but--dunno, haven’t seen you a lot lately.”

You knew the feeling.

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