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pigtailedgirl · 6 months

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Due South and a Canadian White Girl North-ish

I'm so nervous. Addition: Perhaps some trigger warning for abuse and illness talk?

So I read this great Due South fanfic.

BLESSED

I think it's going in my top ten. And I have a bunch I like that deal in the same theme. In Fraser's fit of himself in the city versus northern Canada and how he finds something in the contrasts.

Still this fanfic, though it does a neat re-examine overall, and others, have an image I guess that is put out by Fraser, by the narrative, of Canada that just does not work for me.

EXAMPLE

***

"Think about being somewhere else," Cleve told him as the strings began to vibrate again. "Anywhere but here."

And he did. Where did he want to be? Anywhere but here. Yes, Cleve had indeed answered the question for him.

The MacKenzie River, strong and swift, slicing through the spruce and pine, cutting a path between the snowcapped mountains.

The frozen, inhospitable Beaufort Sea, where a man could see his own breath turn to ice on the air and blow back to his face, clinging crystals of ice on his skin and lashes.

The mighty forests of tamarack and poplar that covered the western slope of the coastal mountain ranges. The warm, gentle breezes of heady lodgepole pine scent. The soft hiss and crackle of campfire, mellowed by a handful of cedar bark.

"There you go," Cleve decided at last in a quiet, satisfied voice.

Ben smiled until his face hurt, not quiet ready to open his eyes and let go his vision just yet. The strings felt good, like the strips of cedar bark he had imagined for the fire, the neck of the guitar a more than adequate rendering of the canoe paddle the MacKenzie demanded. The smooth, time worn wood of the box pressed into his belly, a body that complemented his, perfect in its unyieldingness, yet matching his every bend and twist.

Stella the True.

Ben would have given her another name.

His eyes opened then, noticing first how the world seemed to have blurred in more ways than one, and that the smile had faded away as the memories had faded in upon him. The world was only blurry for a few seconds more, until he realized that once he blinked the beginnings of tears from his eyes, the world became amazingly clear. So much became amazingly clear.

"Don't give up on yourself, son," Cleve Abernathy's voice came from somewhere very, very far away. Fraser gave his saturated eyes to the man who had spoken.

***

"Where I come from, people help one another. If one goes without, then all go without equally, so that everyone has a chance. You don't let your neighbor's coal run out in January. You don't let their stomachs go empty when your kill is plenty. When their children don't return from the trail, you go looking for them. That's just the way it is."

***

It's beautifully written, but feels wrong to me. Feels like lies to my lived experiences. Being from a small place like Fraser, this is a beautiful sentiment, and not at all true to it's realities.

When Fraser, Due South's narrative and comedy, and fandom view the otherness of the wilderness or northern Canada, make big deals to study it, never mind just mark Canada different in broad... It feels othering. Othering in a way I think is really important to how Fraser doesn't fit in if he's got this perspective too.

I've grown with stories about people and family who lived the same kind of lives as the Fraser family. In modern ways my home here still is like this. I even lived some like this and I'm baby in comparison.

Remote and isolated. Lots of nature to be in. Law, education and medicine as tiers in the community that are mostly outsiders to the community either brought in short-term or recurring.

Even those who live here permanently now, have founded themselves career wise, and have to, going away to do it or having been born and raised elsewhere. Christ, we have to basically leave after high-school more than 1000km away. HAVE TO.

And there is a definite disconnect between this group who are outsiders and the what I would call settled persons in the emotional connection to the place and town and the ability to fit in.

If it's a truism to me, this idea of grand north, natural beauty or isolation in a small town, with the people, to get in touch with an emotional growth is the biggest lie I have ever witnessed done by people to themselves. And this is an idealism of outsiders. You don't come out into isolation or live it to get NEW emotional needs met. You don't grow yourself thinking this is something special or the true way or will fix you.

Those that say living like this is a personal spiritual ride are:

1. High on their own supply as it were, aka, either tapping what they had dormant before or pretending.

2. Doing so off the backs of those who just don't think too much about it and are where and what they are.

If I had a dollar for every doctor or therapist I met who came here and were enamored by the place, the seas and freedoms and kind people and opportunities in solitude, expected it to change the people here and them, and then ran wild because they were always dumbasses, or took advantage, or after a year of seeing it day to day still wouldn't or didn't understand how to live with it and ran or got burnt out...RICH.

Because the truth is that small communities and remoteness don't make special or perfect people or places. We aren't magic, we aren't even that different, we just face a different or smaller reality.

I'm struck by the story One Good Man paints of Fraser's grandmother, who faced early trauma, and to me tells a reality you maybe don't want to embrace fully but should reflect on before concluding the nature of life here. A young woman who saw her town burn, who saved some of the children in it, but watched the others and adults die and was also horribly physically and probably emotionally scarred by it. Who only had an idea, and with it, bravery in the face of that moment, and after the strength to hang on as her backbone tip of surviving. Any wonder then, the tough it attitude and gift of wisdom was maybe her main survival and emotional mantra. That what tied her there to keep trying to give knowledge to people and how she pushed that above emotion on her grandson was this.

I think canon does a good job of highlighting an undercurrent of why Fraser and family still didn't fit in and why Fraser and Due South is a story of growth as a person and finding his home/community is going outside. His emotional needs weren't here. That's alright to find elsewhere when you need it.

@juniperpomegranate made a really great point of difference of Fraser's north, so often idealized in show or fic, and how it isn't actually like a town. It's not imagined or filled or understood in the reality of a community. Which is hella important. Because your community and relationships is how you really fit in a place like that or in my home.

And that's people. People to connect to. People who aren't wildly different. Experiences only seem wild to outsiders. Perfection or an image of better peeps is only lauded to cover in my opinion.

We face hardships and issues. We don't face them mythically. Nature is pretty and it requires work and understanding of it, learned only from experience and listening or knowing others who have, to survive and thrive in.

The reason we have outsider law or medicine or education come in is...

Well it can be real fun when the town is faced with say influenza and has no resources, or knowledge about it. Where you have to be cajoled to get immunized by your sister dressing up in the nurse's coat and leaving, to trick you into coming out of hiding. Where Dad tells stories of my great-grandma who plastered everyone with coal oil for cures as the rock of the town. Or where, when you have criminal stuff or domestic violence or mental illness and you can't treat or stop. A woman who hurt her family for decades because she was sadly untreated and unknown Schizophrenic. When another woman my dad's age wrote of her harrowing experience of childhood, of her mom dying from cancer and her father putting her to work as a teenage girl to care for the siblings and home, and then not providing any of his income or the support people gave him for them, until she and her siblings were literally found starving. Cause he fucked off to the neighbors. Cause the whole town knew it was happening, but there was no alternative, this was just their monetary and work survival versus that family and that family's lack of social capital paired with no place to go. Where solution was when law finally came in an forcefully moved the minor kids to different fosters in villages 100s of kilometers away, this was just a daily continuation of life though for most here.

See law, as external resource, can't even do much beyond come in twice a year and judge people. Punishment for crimes is more social than moral and depends on taking a person out of the community most times. Bob Fraser, Mounties and cops who ship around to different spots, if they are good get then respect sure, but they were and always have to stay detached to not bias too. It's a hard one. It's you can have impact and respect, for example the priest use to come a couple times a year and get the good dishes out for him, but you don't build the emotional connection of say staying for the weddings after-parties of music and dancing all night. Of people crossing islands to visit each other at the end of weeks' work.

In this vein I'm not surprised Bob had a great reputation and a lot of "friends" he didn't know.

And education. Where it's people come to knowledge at you, or knowledge from you. Where it's students come to study you like you are a tropical native of the 18th century. Write their papers and go back and take your history and skills to sell and forget the here left behind. Or come dodging the drafts of the States. All our stories or archives are in a "local" museum we can't even get to without a plane ticket yo. Or again those who come to give wisdom like they are the holders and we are heathen plebs. With maybe a one in ten being someone or something honest or decent. Though I'm a little bias here. My mom was a teacher who came here in the 70s and spent her whole life teaching grade school. Literal one room school house start. Who met and married and stayed with my Dad here. Some people do catch. Some, I think like maybe the example of Fraser's grandma, which I have soft feeling for probably because of this, just really want to impart shared knowledge and get happiness from seeing it grow and having that personal shot to help it. In a small community that seed growing outwards, to see it, is freaking awesome. But key is shared. You got to learn from too.

Finally, small isolated communities need and foster their connection through the people. Who you know. How you are all related. The meme of does everybody know everyone in Canada hits lol. But that's got the inverse too. There is no privacy. Loners be seen and judged. Again, social fit and capital being supreme.

That's why the nature loner or lover is myth too. Drop you off on a pretty snow covered lake. Pretty yes, magical and just for you, no. You still need the community knowledge to know where the fish, which direction is inland or sea, where is best shelter, where is Indians in the country to help you trap, when does the supplies boats and airdrops come. Nothing is done alone okay, trust me on this. You go out to snowshoe alone on a clear day, and weather strikes and you die.

I guess my point I keep trying to rope back into is maybe the experience or place or people sound different, or magic, but it's superficial. It's no different than how stories of history or cities sound to some. Emotionally I think we run the same. I think the true beauty is in seeing that reality. That you can't be the best stuck in an unreality or hiding from finding your fit. And again the true charm of Due South and Fraser, is his going south grows himself to see it. The show gets us to play and have fun seeing it.

And that the best of people or place, Canada or States, small town or city, outsider or no...is accepting and acknowledging that difference and sameness is the way to grow. Is the best beauty.

It's how my community did grow out of most of it's struggles imo, and hopes to go further I tell ya.

So here are my recs on the wonder of difference and sameness in Due South. Again like the fic above, can't rec enough.

Here are a small sampler of finding yourself near and away.

Stars, I Have Seen Them Fall (squidge.org)

Smaller Gods - arrow (esteefee) - due South [Archive of Our Own]

Our Dancing Days - sdwolfpup - due South [Archive of Our Own]

Also, does anyone have a link to an old ds flashfic of Fraser wandering Chicago in a power outage? I loved that one.

#due south #due south meta #personal life i dont know how much to put in honestly #fic recs #fraser is example of you can emotionally or physically survive a place and enjoy or be accustomed to it's nature #but does that mean you fit it?#i think there is a pretty good argument his longing for emotional contentment beyond his isolation inside himself means no to the north #his lack of friends or family up there #his dad's and grandparents as well #and their lack of ability to give him emotional happiness or get him tied to the towns #even if it doesn't mean yes always to chicago either #which would have lots of overwhelming differences to see and grapple with and explore #also this hits what i think meg thatcher could have touched on as a character #as a canadian city woman trying to entice or grapple with fraser #a fun idea of othered but from your country to play with #benton fraser

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hslllot · 2 years

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A Soft Place to Fall - Part I

Story List

Word count: 3.6k // Rated M // harry x reader

Note: Wowowow ok! So, here’s the first part of what will be a multi-part story. It is just a short lil introduction to our duo... The second part isn’t too far away either :) I want to thank my bullies motivating friends that encouraged me to write and share this! I love writing but am always painfully nervous about sharing. So please, if you like it, let me know! If you don’t like it you can also let me know but I will probably cry. OK ENJOY :)

Part I

In a cozy log cabin at the base of Mount Yamnuska, Harry found himself in a position he thought he’d never find himself in again.

He was hiding.

It was something he tended to do after a particularly difficult break up: Flee to a different country, alone, to write and sulk and ponder how he always managed to screw things up.

Jamaica. Japan. Italy.

Canada.

In the heart of the Canadian rockies, he sat by the fire in his lonely wooden home. There was a winter unlike anything he’d ever experienced outside his window and a mug filled with English tea in front of him. Next to his mug was his journal, open to an empty set of pages, words painfully unwritten.

He arrived in Calgary by plane this morning, peering out the window to see the bustling and bright landscapes of California transform into blankets of fresh white snow on barren acres of farmland. They flew over the Rocky Mountains and, despite having seen them from above before, he was transfixed by their beauty and size, and he wondered if anyone ever got tired of seeing something so majestic. He had never seen the mountains in the dead of winter, the trees, the ground, and the mountains themselves covered in white while the surrounding frozen glacier lakes remained a brilliant blue. He appreciated the beauty of it all, and under different circumstances he might have turned to the person sitting next to him and urged them to lean over and take a peek out the window too. But his mood soured when he remembered that the person sitting next to him was a stranger, and he was, again, on this trip alone.

Once the plane had landed he sent a quick text to his family group chat and Jeffrey to let them know he’d arrived in one piece. He scrolled through his emails to find all of the different reservations Jeffrey forwarded to him so he could pick up his rental vehicle and begin the 100 kilometre journey to the sleepy mountain town he would be calling home for the next three months.

The GPS in the rental guided him to the Bow Valley Parkway, the scenic highway that would lead him through Banff National Park and to his destination. As he entered the parkway, he pulled into a designated lookout just past a wooden gate that overhead read “WELCOME BIENVENUE”. Directly in front of him was a cerulean river, frozen over and backed by the most massive snow-capped mountain he had ever seen. He got out of his car, feeling the cold January air like pinpricks across his face, and quickly took a picture of the view. He sent it to his mother and promised to one day come back with her so she could see it for herself.

As he drove further down the Bow Valley, he felt kind of silly for pulling over at the sight of his first mountain when each mountain and lake he passed seemed to be bigger and more beautiful than the last. Eventually, he saw the signs for Mount Yamnuska and turned off the highway onto a long and winding road that would take him to his final destination. With nothing but tall lodgepole pine trees, grey skies, and the crooning voice of Billie Holiday to keep him company, he felt like he was on a different planet. A planet where the trees and the mountain air could filter out all of the negative voices, thoughts, and feelings he’d been privy to in the last few weeks. A planet where he might be able to clear his head long enough to find within it a melody or even a lyric or two.

Harry wasn’t entirely sure what was waiting for him at the end of the road, only having skimmed the AirBnB listing Jeffrey had emailed him. He called Jeff two days ago, insisting that he needed to get away, to disappear for a bit. Having been in this exact position before with his client/friend, Jeff knew what that meant. His manager remembered seeing videos of aesthetic mountain vacations with rocky lookouts and great big turquoise lakes on TikTok, so he suggested that Harry sequester himself in the mountains. After discussing and agreeing on the destination, Jeff had the trip planned and booked within hours.

Harry passed plenty of tiny cottages and cabins tucked away in the forest alongside the highway, but as it got darker he focused more on the road ahead and fixed his eyes to watch out for any wildlife (he heard mountain lions were a possibility in the Winter). When he finally made it to his landing place, he was at the end of a long driveway in front of a cabin carved into a landscape of endless conifer trees. The cabin looked small and simple on the outside, the entirety of its exterior made up of orange-tinted pine logs. There was a foot of snow covering everything in sight, save for the walking path from the driveway to a front porch that spanned the width of the cabin. On the porch sat two Muskoka chairs, red, to match the front door.

Sat in the two chairs waiting for him, unphased by the darkening skies and blowing snow, he presumed were his hosts.

He exited his car and zipped his jacket all the way past his chin, a lame attempt to shield his face from the wind. As he made his way toward the porch, the older man and woman stood to greet him. Both were dressed in black puffer jackets and knit beanies, perhaps in their mid-to-late fifties. They appeared friendly, wearing bright smiles as they welcomed him to their vacation home.

“You must be Harry”, the man said, reaching out to shake Harry’s hand.

Harry returned the gesture, “Hello, yes, I’m Harry.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Paul and this is my wife, Nancy.”

“We hope you found the place OK!” Nancy chippered.

“Thank you, I did.” He said, shaking Nancy’s hand next. “I appreciate you taking me in on such short notice.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. We actually just had a cancellation before your manager contacted us. Our daughter was supposed to stay here with her partner for the week but their plans changed. So everything was already set up for guests!”

“Lucky for me then.” He said with a smile as Paul took his bag and Nancy moved to open the door to lead them all inside.

Harry did a quick scan of the inside of the cabin from where he stood in the front entrance. He saw they’d already started a fire in the wood burning stove and spotted a cozy looking armchair where he knew he’d be curling up with his book. “The place looks great.”

“We’re glad you think so. Please, come in, get comfortable. This is your home now for a bit, after all!” Nancy insisted, fussing over him to take off his jacket and shoes. She reminded him a bit of his mother, something about her demeanor making him feel at ease. “You’ve had a long journey so we’ll leave you to get settled in and explore the place. Just a few things though…”

He kicked off his shoes by the door and followed behind the two as they led him past the living room and into the kitchen.

“We’re going to get more snow tonight and you’re probably tired from your travels,” Nancy opened the refrigerator. “We’ve already stocked the fridge with all of our daughter’s favourites so there’s plenty of food that you can have.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind getting my own.”

“Really, we’d rather it didn’t go to waste.” Paul chimed in. “But of course if there’s anything more you need, there’s some info in that binder on the table about going into town and grocery stores and restaurants and whatnot.”

“Alright, thank you. I really appreciate all this.”

“Of course!” He handed Harry a set of keys on what looked like a moose-head keychain. “Here’s the key. Our house is north of here, about 15 minutes away. So if you need anything just give us a call or text. Our address is in there too just in case.”

Harry bid goodnight to Paul and Nancy and once they were gone he took his bag and scoped out the cabin. It was a simple layout with two bedrooms just off the living room, a full bathroom between the two rooms and the open galley kitchen along the adjacent back wall, opposite the front door. There was a small kitchen island at the center in front of the red kitchen cupboards, and a wooden dining table for two in its own little nook off the kitchen. The cabin had a warm feel to it. The decor, you might say was quintessentially Canadian in the way they leaned into maple-scented candles, wood carvings of mountains hung on the walls, and no shortage of throw blankets and pillows adorned with buffalo plaid.

Harry dropped his bag into the bedroom closest to the kitchen and was about to start unpacking when his stomach growled. Grateful they had left food for him to eat, he made himself a sandwich and got acquainted with where everything was in the kitchen before unpacking his things. He decided then that after he unpacked he would settle in for the night by the fire, brew some tea and maybe take a stab at writing.

—————————

You hated driving in the winter.

Were you competent and experienced enough to deal with the blowing snow and the black ice under your tires? Sure. But that didn't mean you enjoyed it. A lifetime of driving down the Parkway didn’t stop you from gripping the steering wheel so hard your knuckles were white, or straining your eyes in the darkness to avoid missing any moose or elk that might emerge from the trees.

One thing you did like about road trips was that they were a great opportunity for reflection. You’d been driving for about 3 hours at this point, and had barely listened to the playlist you put on at the start of your journey. You were too busy keeping an eye on the road, or thinking about the last 72 hours, and playing out scenarios in your head where things had gone differently.

You were exhausted, physically and mentally. Was it really only 72 hours since everything went down?

You replayed your last conversation with Luke over and over again in your head, hoping that if you went over it enough you could better understand.

“I just can’t do it. Even if I came, I would have to bring work with me and I’d be working the whole time.”

You were incredulous. Confused. Borderline seething.

“This trip was supposed to happen last summer, Luke. We’ve postponed it twice already for your job.”

“I know and I said I’m sorry. I just can’t up and leave right now.”

“Did you not book off the vacation time? Your boss knows you're supposed to go away. It’s literally one week.”

“Yes, I booked off the vacation time but I-”

“Well if you’ve booked it off and they gave you the time off what’s the problem?”

“I just can’t go now, ok?”

“Is it that you can’t go, or that you don’t want to go?”

That question had been lingering in the back of your mind every time the trip had to be postponed, but you never asked because you were afraid of the answer. You hoped that work really was so busy that he couldn’t take a week off, even though he had the vacation time approved by his boss. You wanted to believe that this was just the reality of being in a relationship with a lawyer.

The trouble was that you’d been with Luke for two years and he had yet to meet your family. He seemed excited to visit the small mountain town where you grew up, citing that he’d always wanted to visit Banff and the Rocky Mountains. You met his parents and got on well with them and your relationship was moving forward, with talks of moving in together and maybe even a proposal on the horizon.

However, every time you brought up visiting your family, he put it off and said he was too busy. You would visit home and he would stay back in Vancouver. Eventually he agreed to join you and the trip was booked, but at the last minute he claimed to be in the middle of an important case and couldn’t leave. You rescheduled twice since, and it was looking like you’d be adding a third.

“Of course I want to go. It’s just not a great time right now.”

“Is there ever going to be a great time? At some point I’m going to need you to make time for it, Luke.”

You were beginning to think that he didn’t understand how important your family was to you. He didn’t understand that you needed to see how he fit into your family in order for the relationship to progress. Would he get along with your dad? Would he be kind to your mom? Could he be friends with your brother? You were realizing that maybe his lack of motivation to meet your family and see your home was all you needed to know.

Before he could respond, you added “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Of course over the last 72 hours you doubted yourself constantly. Had you overreacted? Should you have been more understanding about his job? You went back and forth, reminding yourself that you had a job too, sure it wasn’t as demanding as that of a lawyer, but no matter what you always found the time for things that were important to you. You even took a week off to go on a ski trip with his parents a few weeks ago.

After the break up, you called your parents to let them know you weren’t coming anymore. You fully intended to wallow in your apartment for the week and mourn your dead relationship. The wallowing lasted less than 24 hours before you decided the best antidote for a broken heart was a hug from your mom and a beer with your dad.

That’s how you found yourself on the Bow Valley Parkway at 11pm in the middle of a snowstorm. You thought it would be fun to surprise your parents, but now you were regretting that decision. You weren’t sure that the rental vehicle was equipped to deal with a January snow storm in the mountains and if you ended up in a ditch or hit by a moose, no one knew where you were. Knowing your parents, they were probably already asleep, and you didn’t want to wake them. You decided to spend the night at their guest cabin you had initially booked, with plans to surprise them in the morning.

—————————

Harry knew that a few hours on a plane and an evening in a log cabin in the middle of the wilderness wasn’t going to instantly fix his writer’s block. But he did hope his new setting might be able to wiggle some ideas free.

As he sat with his tea and his journal open to an empty page, he begged the words to come to him. But he didn’t know what to say.

How could he write about a break up that he still didn’t even fully understand?

He was just short of banging his head against the table and throwing his journal in the fire when a light shone through the window.

A set of headlights turned onto the driveway, a small car bustling through the snow storm that had started raging outside. He looked to the door to make sure he’d locked it, in case someone was on their way to murder him in the middle of nowhere.

Maybe Paul or Nancy forgot something, he hoped to himself. It was nearly midnight, so he knew that wasn’t logical.

It was when you pulled up and parked next to his rental that he saw you in the driver’s seat. Your face was perplexed as you looked over at his vehicle and then to the log cabin. You awkwardly made eye contact through the window before you quickly looked away.

Maybe she’s lost, he thought to himself next.

He waited for you to come to the door, but you remained in your car. Eventually, thinking you looked harmless enough, Harry bundled up in his coat, slipped on his shoes, and went to meet you outside.

—-

You whipped your head towards the cabin door when you saw it open to reveal a strange man walking toward your vehicle.

Why is he coming out here? Oh god is he going to murder me? You thought.

Embarrassed you’d been caught outside the cabin, you rolled down your window, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t think anyone would be here! I’m just leaving!“

You were hit with the realization of who was walking toward you, followed by some confusion.

What the fuck…

And then panic when you realized he was walking up to your car.

“I really am sorry this is my parents cabin and I thought no one would be here!” You shouted as he approached your opened window. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening.”

Harry fucking Styles crouched down to look at you through the driver’s side window. In the darkness, you felt his eyes on you taking note of your black and yellow North Face puffer jacket and the knit beanie on your head. There was a look of recognition on his face, perhaps noticing some of your features were strikingly similar to those of a woman he’d met only a few hours ago.

“Ah, you’re Nancy and Paul’s daughter.”

“Yeah, I am…So I’ll just h-”

“They said you’d canceled.”

“Oh? Yea, I did… I, uh, changed my mind, I guess. I didn’t think they’d book someone so quickly.”

“It was good timing on my part, I guess.”

“Right, ok, I’m so sorry for interrupting your evening! I’ll just go to their house!” It was nearly pitch black outside, save for the light of your headlights shining on the cabin in front of you. The wind was violent, whipping snow around him, and you felt bad that he was standing outside in the cold. His arms were crossed and hugging his jacket closed, talking to you while not wearing nearly enough layers to be outside.

Harry pondered for a moment, sucking his lips into his mouth and turning to look at the snow coming down around him. He was sure being from here that you had experience driving in weather like this, but he could not in good conscience let you leave without offering.

“The snow’s coming down pretty hard. I was just having some tea before bed… Would you like to come in? At least until things calm down a bit.”

Harry felt bold asking you to come inside when you were strangers. He could tell you were mulling it over, maybe unsure if you could trust him or if it would be appropriate. He wasn’t sure if it was either, but he kind of hoped you agreed to it anyway. Jeffrey would yell at him for this.

“Are you sure?” You asked. Your first instinct was to outright decline the offer, but you knew the roads were treacherous and you were exhausted.

“Yes, I’m sure.” He insisted. “Selfishly, I would never forgive myself if I let you go and you got into an accident or something on the highway.”

“Okay,” you agreed reluctantly. “I’ll come in just for a bit.” You got out of the car and followed him back quickly through the blowing snow and up the path to the front door.

Once inside, he turned to you. “I apologize I didn’t even ask your name.”

You told him your name as you toed off your boots and took off your many layers of outdoor winter wear.

“Well it’s nice to meet you. I’m Harry.”

“Nice to meet you too, Harry. I know who you are, by the way. I’m a fan.” You paused and he noticed the way your face twisted, almost in embarrassment. “Ugh, sorry, is that weird to say?”

“Not weird.” He tried to reassure you. “Would be more awkward if you said you hated me or something.”

You took a seat on the sofa, grabbing the buffalo plaid pillow next to you and hugging it to your chest. You felt awkward. What was Harry Styles doing in your parents’ vacation rental? And what were you doing with him alone in the middle of the night? Were you going to sit here and chat with each other? Or would he carry on with his evening as if you weren’t here?

You spotted his open journal and a mug of tea abandoned on the side table near the fire. He did mention having tea before, which was confirmed by him now filling the kettle with water.

“Again, I’m sorry for interrupting. Really appreciate you letting me hang here for a bit.”

He grabbed a mug from the cabinet to the right of the sink. It was the green mug you painted for your mom for Mother’s Day in middle school.

“You’ve got to stop apologizing. Very Canadian of you though.”

“Right. Sorry. Shit.”

Harry laughed whilst shaking his head at your incessant apologies. You liked his laugh. And his dimples.

OK, he’s cute, you thought.

“Would you like a snack?” Harry called out, interrupting your wandering thoughts. “I’m pretty sure all of the food here was supposed to be for you anyways.”

— END OF PART 1 —

Thank you so much for reading! I am looking forward to diving into this story a bit more and would like to know what you think :)

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#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #my writing #asptf

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