#and ten seconds away from silently reposting them to his instagram stories

[jrueships]

Leaked screenshot of sauce's pathetic hamster recruiting attempts on aaron rodgers

[meetmymouth]

love on tour: the groupie extra

previous part | groupie playlist

groupie and harry are both confused and stupid

They sit very quietly next to each other at breakfast, with the only noise being Jeff’s phone going off every few seconds as he keeps spooning his porridge and Harry Lambert talks about fashion to Anthony the photographer.

Harry’s sitting beside her, giving her glances every second or so while she eats her own porridge, not wanting to give anything away from her nearly-peaceful breakfast. Nearly, because they still haven’t talked about last night. After knocking for another ten minutes, Harry had given up, and started blowing up her phone when he arrived at his own hotel room. With her phone on silent, she’d tried to get some much needed sleep, though the thoughts in her head had a better idea which consisted of her staying up until four in the morning, watching the ceiling as her heart thumped in her chest, the images of Harry and Brooke playing in her mind.

“Want tea,” Harry asks, clearly trying to make conversation since she hasn’t said a word apart from ‘hello’s and ‘good morning’s. “I’m gonna get m’self some.”

“No.”

He sighs, then gets up to get his tea.

When it’s time for rehearsals, she goes back to her hotel room while Harry watches with curious gaze, and begins packing her bags. She has to.

Normally, she wouldn’t leave until the fifth of October, though she feels like she doesn’t need to stay that long anymore. She has to leave, get away from Harry Styles and everything surrounding him.

To her luck, she finds a flight leaving for London at five forty-five tomorrow morning, and books it with her own card. When she’s fully packed, she leaves and sits on the floor in front of her hotel room, and rings Jeff.

“Yes, Fabian,” he answers the phone.

“I’m leaving for London tonight–”

“–You’re what? Does Harry know?” He asks, the sounds of soundcheck in the background accompanying his voice.

She sighs. “No, and please keep it that way.”

“Fabian…” Jeff wavers. “Don’t do that to him. I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but he won’t be too happy about this, you know that.”

“I have to. I need to go back. And,” she sniffs, suddenly feeling choked up. “I will leave his card with reception, please don’t forget to pick it up when you get back.”

Jeff doesn’t argue any further, so he agrees, and she hangs up.

She books an Uber after leaving the card at reception in an envelope, and leaves for the airport. She would just wait there instead.

Though, Harry’s calls and messages never stop. He calls, she puts it in silence. He texts, and she chooses to ignore them. It goes on and on until she has to board early in the morning, and she sheds a few tears as the ground keeps getting smaller and smaller by the second, just like how she already feels; so small, and insignificant. Like someone just opened her up, and is now trying to put all the pieces together, though it never works however way you put them together. She still feels small, because she leaves a part of herself not only at the airport, but in every little area of the city, the hotel, the streets, the venues Harry’s been playing… everywhere Harry has touched and been in; she leaves small parts of herself there, scattered around like ashes.

It’s summer now.

Nine months of no calls, no texts, and nothing from Harry.

No Harry in London, no Harry on her phone. Just nothing.

It’s like someone had performed a surgery, and got every little bit of him out of her system, but failed to completely strip her off of him, a little part of him that occupies her thoughts especially when she hears a Gerry Rafferty song, or someone plays his song– her friends, or the radio. Or when her little cousin Rebecca reposts a story from a Harry Styles account.

He’s everywhere.

Everywhere on her Instagram. Everywhere on the underground as the walls are painted with advertisements announcing his new album.

Sometimes, she sees someone from the back, and thinks it’s him. It’s him, and he’s finally here, he’s here to find her again. But when she blinks, he’s gone. And the cycle continues.

She buys two tickets to a Catfish and the Bottlemen show in Brixton, and she takes her friend Gabriella with her, with both of them all smiles and feeling jittery because it’s the first show they’re both attending in a long time. They arrive early, and buy drinks before finding their lane, and when the music starts, it’s bliss. Bliss to her ears, to her heart, and she feels the vibrations all over her body, the tips of her fingers and her scalp… the sounds reach everywhere on her body, making her feel all ecstatic. She dances her heart out to “7”, screaming the words ‘And I’d beg you/ But you know I’m never home/ And I love you but I need a year alone/ And I've tried to/ Ignore it every time you phone/ But I never come close’.

When she turns around while dancing, it’s when she sees him.

Standing up there in one of the VIP boxes, a beer in hand, watching the band play “Anything”, another favourite of hers. And like clockwork, like he senses it, his eyes find hers. He looks at her as the lights light up the room, and all she feels is vibrations in her body without any sound reaching her ears.

Everything and everyone stops, disappears into the night as they watch each other.

She turns back to the band, and when she looks back again, he’s gone.

And now, she’s being escorted backstage by a security guard.

“It’s the first time someone else is calling someone backstage,” the guard chuckles when they enter. “Apart from the band.”

And, he’s there.

He’s wearing pink corduroys and a white t-shirt, and he’s got a denim cap on that makes him look so fucking stupid. His face, all perfect and shiny, looks stupid.

He starts talking as soon as she comes into his view.

“You left,” he spits the words. “You fucking left.”

“You let me,” she says, though she knows she’s the one who left. She’s being unreasonable and dumb, but she still gives him a shrug.

“You never answered my calls.”

“I didn’t.”

He growls, walking closer to her.

“I hated you, Fab,” he murmurs, now all calm and collected. “I hated you so much.”

She shrugs again, not being able to find the words to respond.

Harry smiles. “You won’t ask me why.”

“I won’t.”

“I’ll tell you anyway,” he says, stopping right in front of her, now so much closer to her.

He smells nice.

Like he always did.

“I…” Harry begins, playing with the hem of his t-shirt. “I hated you for what you did to me.”

“We weren’t boyfriend-girlfriend, you said it yourself,” she says, all venomous.

Harry clears his throat. “Right. I– I was scared. Still am. You’re something else,” he says, more like murmurs.

“You always say that.”

“But you are. You make me feel things– things I’m not used to. I don’t know how it feels to be committed. To be in love–”

“–Harry.”

“I’m not saying I’m in love with you,” he says.

It makes her laugh.

“Thanks.”

“I’m not in love with you, Fab. But, I think I’m close. I hated you for making me feel that way when you left. I hated– hate feeling helpless. Vulnerable. You came in and messed everything up. My whole routine. My days, nights. You’re always in my mind. Nine months, Fab. Nine months, I’ve wondered if you’ve eaten. Or if you’ve finally visited Finland. Or if you’re still friends with that arsehole Janet–”

“–She’s not–”

“–Whatever.”

“What are you saying,” she asks.

“I told you we’d take it slow. You left.”

“You met up with Brooke behind my back!” She raises her voice, and her heart begins beating faster. “You lied.”

Harry grows frustrated, it’s obvious from the way his shoulders slouch.

“I didn’t sleep with her.”

“So, why didn’t you tell me you were meeting?”

“I– because it wasn’t important! She isn’t– wasn’t important.”

“It’s important to me,” she looks down. “This was important.”

“It was important to me, too,” he whispers, hands finding hers. She lets him interlock their fingers. “You are important to me.”

She shakes her head, trying to let go of his hands. He doesn’t let her, instead he squeezes them.

She clears her throat. “I paid for the tickets, you know.”

“I know.”

“You’re taking that away from me.”

“I’ll buy you tickets again–”

“–No.”

“Okay, Fab. I just want to talk.”

She shakes her head again. “Not here. Not like this,” she says, finally letting go of his hands.

“Where? Time and place, and I’ll be there.”

“I’m staying over at Gabriella’s for a bit,” she says, and suddenly feels guilty for leaving her by herself down there. “She’s staying over at his boyfriend’s tonight. Come down to her flat.”

He nods, walking closer to her. “Okay. I’ll,” he looks around, then feels his pockets. “Give you my number.”

“I have it.”

“Right– I rang you too many times.”

“Yes, and Jeff also gave it to me way before.”

“Oh…”

He smiles. “Text me the address and I’ll be there. I’ll go anywhere, Fab,” he reaches and touches her shoulder. Then squeezes. “I want this.”

“Okay. I gotta go…” she looks around.

“Okay.”

She turns around and he calls for her. “Fabsters,” he says.

She looks at him with furrowed eyebrows, ready to get out of there.

Harry smiles, dimples widening. “I’ve missed your sweet face.”

+

The knock comes at twelve-past one.

She gets him inside, and can’t help but smile at the way he takes his muddy shoes off, putting them to the side as he walks to the living room. She motions at him to sit down, and they do, him sitting on the armchair as she takes her seat on the sofa.

“Fab,” he murmurs, playing with his fingers. “I missed you.”

And, she’s missed him, too.

She did, though she can’t help but stay silent, not feeling brave enough to utter the words.

He smiles when she doesn’t speak.

“I’m sorry for lying. About Brooke.”

“Okay…”

“I’m too nice sometimes. Don’t think much when I do something stupid. I could’ve just texted her.”

She sighs, folding her arms in front of her. “Yeah,” she says, not knowing what else to add.

Harry keeps going.

“I bought her a drink at the members only bar near the hotel. I only had water. Then she left. And then,” he sighs. “I started drinking.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m an idiot and you scare me so much.”

She laughs, though she’s not enjoying this talk very much. “How am I scaring you? I didn’t– you didn’t give us any time to get used to whatever the fuck we had, Harry. One night we’re all kisses and touches under the duvet and next you lie to me about something so silly.”

“You’re right.”

“Yeah.”

“I fuck up all my relationships, Fab. And you… you came into my life as this happy, shiny girl. You gave no fucks about what anyone thought of you. You’re strong–”

“–Cliches,” she murmurs.

“But you are. And you excite me. You made me feel all warm and fuzzy. From the beginning.”

“And yet you still fucked other girls, Harry.”

He looks down at his feet. Then back up at her. “You’re right. I didn’t know it back then,” he says. “But I know now.”

“I think you’re confused.”

“I’m not,” he shakes his head. “I want this, but I’m not good with relationships.”

“Commitment, you mean,” she purses her lips. Harry sighs.

They’re silent for a bit, then he talks again.

“I want this.”

“You want to know that you have me, Harry. You want this, me, us to work because you can’t handle failure.”

“Fab, you’re being unreasonable,” Harry murmurs. “I want this because I like you. Too fuckin’ much. I like you. Everything about you–”

“–You don’t know me!”

“I want to! God fuckin’ damn it, Fab, let me know you. Let me in. I know you want this– you said so yourself. Back then. You said it,” he gets up, and sits beside her. “Give us a chance. Again.”

“You lied, Harry. About something so small.”

“Does it matter when I didn’t even sit with her for more than twenty minutes, though?”

She chuckles. “It does. To me, it does.”

“God damn it, Brooke!”

There it is.

As soon as the name slips from his tongue, they both regret it.

“Fab…” he tries to argue, though she’s not listening.

She shakes her head. “Are you fucking serious?” She murmurs, standing up.

She walks to the kitchen, and sits down on a stool, not knowing what to do with herself.

Harry follows.

“Fab,” he calls out. “Fuck. Listen. We were talking about fuckin’ Brooke and you– you’re driving me insane. Why don’t you ever listen to me,” he shouts, his voice making her ears hurt.

She looks down.

“Fab,” he tries again. “Listen to me. I like you, and I will still like you tomorrow. The day after tomorrow? I’ll still like you so fuckin’ much you’ve no fuckin’ clue.”

“Go, Harry.”

“But, why!”

“Because you’re all over the place!” She stands up, holding the chair. “You’re clearly confused. You don’t even know how a relationship works. You like me now, but I don’t know if we’ll ever work.”

“Is it just me, though,” Harry says. He walks closer to her. “Is it just me who’s confused? You keep saying I’m confused, but I think you are, too. You’re confused, too. And scared– so fuckin’ scared of opening up to me that you’re putting this all on me,” he shakes his head, laughing. “That’s not fair.”

“I am. All those things. I am.”

“Okay, Fab.”

“What?” She looks up at him, brows furrowed. “What?”

“I’ll leave. Give you space–”

“–No,” she shakes her head. “No more spaces. Where– where would you go?”

“Home, Fab,” he smiles. “I’m in London for three months.”

“Oh.”

He touches her cheek very briefly, then pulls his hand away, like her skin had just shocked him. “Call me whenever you want. I’ll come.”

He turns around, then turns to her again.

“I’ll always come, Fab.”

[pollyaunt]

Break My Heart- chapter 11

Fandom: From Blood & Ash | ch12

TW: None yet.

Summary: What happens when the star quarterback of Atlantia High School grows an interest towards the shy, adorable but smart girl in his grade? Come and join Hawke and Poppy on this rollercoaster of emotions.

a/n: couldn't update due to the ice cream that i had. 🤧🤒

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Dad and mom were waiting for me in the living room when I returned home.

They both apologized for being so toxic and then assured me that they had cleared things out between them. They were regretting for there actions and more because I had to witness it and that they'll never act the way they did in the future.

I could only give them a tiny smile and a nod in return.

That night, I freshened up and lay on my bed when I received a text form Hawke.

Stalker: How are you feeling now Princess?

Me: A lot better. Thankyou for today :))

Stalker: I'm glad for being helpful.

I quickly went to my Instagram and added a story of Hawke's pic in which he had spilt his milkshake on himself with the caption 'Clumsy ass' and tagged him.

Not even ten minutes had passed and Hawke had reposted it on his story with emojis instead of a caption: 😳😳

I laughed out loud at his reaction.

Just as I was about go to sleep, Venotta messaged me.

V: Good to know you're having fun even when I'm upset with you. Full of selfishness.

To say I was shocked would be an understatement.

I thought for a moment what to say to her but in the end I decided to ignore her.

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The next day I was exchanging my books from my locker when someone cleared their throat behind me.

"Uh do I know you?"

Three girls were standing before me with face full of makeup and tight dresses with heels.

In my opinion it was a bit extra for coming to school but I was no one to judge. It was their choice.

They had narrowed there eyes towards me when the middle one spoke, "Listen here you, I know very well what type of girl you are. Stay away from Hawke. He's mine. We both have something special between us."

The fog instantly cleared from my mind.

Oh, so they were the mean queen bee type of girls.

Without giving me a chance to retort some reply, she continued, "Stop your innocent facade or else I'll make your life a living hell."

My eyebrows were up high when those three left. I shrugged and continued going for my first period without sparing a second thought to those barbies words.

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At lunch I sat alone which let me tell you, is extremely lonely and depressing.

But my little loner party ended soon when Hawke and his best friend, Keiran, came and sat across me on my table.

I raised an eyebrow at them but they continued to converse on whatever topic they were talking about.

I started scrolling in my phone when I heard bits of there argument.

"Dude, I'm telling you pineapple on pizza is the best creation in this world."

Hawke replied, "Pineapple on pizza is disgusting, man. It's like having fries with ice cream."

"Dude, fries with ice cream is bomb. But pineapple on pizza is on another level."

My shoulders shook with silent laughter at there argument on such random topic and I risked a glance at them.

Hawke was scowling at his best friend, "Remind me why am I friends with you again?"

Keiran glared at him then turned towards me.

"You tell who's right."

I was at loss for words first but then I cleared my throat and replied, "I hate pineapple on pizza."

Keiran's jaw dropped on the floor and Hawke went for a high five with me.

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we're reaching there....

tag list: @the-introverted-reader