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looselucy · 6 years ago

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Fight or Flight

February 20th “Imagine the punch-bag is Sam’s face and hit harder, Fee.” “Harry, I’m tired. How about-” “If you even suggest a nap, I’ll have to kill you.” “Naps and cuddles.”

“Tempting, but I’m trying to be a decent teacher here. I imagine in the history of teaching, not once has it been well received when a tutor had a nap and cuddled with a student.” “Must you always be so sensible?” “Must you always suggest naps?” “Yes.” I loved our one on one sessions, but sometimes I really wished he would take my nap suggestions seriously. He worked me to the bone, and as brilliant and beneficial as that was, sometimes a nap felt essential. I hugged the bag for support, sticking my bottom lip out, sulking. Grinning, he leaned inwards, kissed me briefly, then distanced again. “C’mon.” He encouraged. “You’ve got this, boss.” “That doesn’t boost me, it just turns me on.” “Boss?” “Mm.” “But you are the boss.” He smirked. “The girls will be here any minute. Don’t fucking tempt me, Styles.” “A few more hits, and I’ll reward you.” His suggestive tone was enough all by itself to make me stand back in the correct position to hit the bag successfully, spying the way he was biting his lip from the corner of my eye, watching me finally do as I’d been told just because I knew I had something to gain from it. I did as much as I could, which felt like a good few minutes worth when it really must have been seconds before giving up entirely, turning to face him and letting my neck loosen, falling back so I was facing the ceiling. “Please tell me that’s enough.” I groaned. His grin was unspeakably wide as he closed the gap between us, immediately grabbing the back of my neck to prop my head up and push his lips to mine, tongue entering my mouth even though he was still grinning madly. He backed me across the room until my back hit the wall, the kiss deepening as he pushed his body against mine. “Harry-” “It’s locked.” He read my mind, gasping against my lips as he buried his hand into the front on my leggings, sliding the tips of his fingers over my clit before one finger pushed into me, tongue stroking mine. I cursed against his lips, my posture slackening, glad that his body was pushed so ferociously against mine, otherwise I may have ended up on the floor. He made me weak with atrocious ease. We had been experiencing that sort of bliss for over a month. We had been serious and we had been growing and learning and acting like a real couple since the middle of January, and the more I thought about it and saw how well we were doing, the more acknowledging our romance around of friends was starting to appeal to me. All I knew for sure was that they loved me and they loved Harry, so why wouldn’t they love the two of us being together? I had savoured the secrecy and how that had allowed us the time to mess up and fall out and make sense of the sublime bond we so clearly shared, but I had been feeling so beautifully settled with him that I was slowly starting to lean towards the idea of everyone knowing. I was holding myself back for his sake. I didn’t want to mention it to him too soon because I knew full well that he wouldn’t be ready for that. Harry moved slowly in all he did, and I had to accept that pace, accept how unfamiliar all of this was to him and the fact that he could still scare off if I didn’t let him do this how he needed to. I knew he would think that no one knowing what was happening between us was a large contribution to how well things were going, and I didn’t doubt that either, but I was really starting to believe that things could be even better. When I thought about the people closest to me knowing, I felt giddy rather than grim like I had only weeks earlier pondering the same thing, and it seemed like a good sign to me. The truth was, I was utterly besotted with him and wanted people to know that. I raised my leg to allow him more space to play with me, Harry instinctively hooking his arm behind my knee to help me keep my limb afloat, thumb pushing up against my clit. He hadn’t stopped kissing me, even when my lips were relatively unresponsive, too full of pleasure to comply with his eager mouth. I had known it wouldn’t be long until there was a knock on the door, but it still happened far too soon. “Fuck sake.” I groaned through a bitter breath. “I mean… I knew it was gunna happen, and I’m still fuming.” “Are you close?” “Um… Not close enough. They’ll knock again any sec-” And they did, Chloe beginning to shout absolute nonsense as she waited for Harry to open the door to let the two of them in. They’d gotten much rowdier since they’d learnt Harry gave me those private lessons, and they’d always turn up just a little bit early and act like fools, as expected. Harry removed his hand from the area I really wished it could stay, tilting his head to the right before leaning in and planting a small kiss against my protruded lips, looking soft and sweet as he did. “Stay at mine? After the pub?” He asked quietly. “At this stage, do you even need to ask?” “Aren’t you bored of me?” “I’m starting to think that’s impossible.” I cooed. “YOO-HOO, HARRY, OPEN THE DOOR!” We heard Chloe from outside. “ALFIE, TELL HIM TO LET US IN!” “Do as you’re told, Harry.” I sniggered. “Yes, boss. But do me a favour and look a bit more innocent, okay? Having you backed up against a wall with the hem of your pants down might raise a few eyebrows.” I was grinning away to myself as I pulled my pants up properly, walking towards the bag at the back of the room as Harry went towards the door, Libby and Chloe practically falling into the room in seemingly high spirits. “Why does it always take you ten years to open the door?” Chloe asked him. “That’s a bit hyperbolic.” Harry snickered. The two of them got to chatting as Libby came over to me, taking me in for a big hug, which was rather unlike her. “What’s this? Affection? Who drugged you?” I giggled, hugging her back. “God, can’t I hug my best mate? Can’t I be in a cuddly mood?” I squeezed her tight, swaying from side to side for a while, my smile almost painfully wide. She wasn’t usually the affectionate type anyway, and since the whole Louis thing she’d been even colder than usual, not in a rude or unlikeable way, but she hadn’t quite been herself. I felt as though she’d built a bit of a wall to protect herself, like acting unfeeling would convince me, Louis and herself that she was unfazed by the way he hadn’t wanted their friendship to shift into something more. I was glad to see her softening again, if not softening excessively given it was her.

“Oh no, Harry, I can’t, no!” “It’ll be fine!” He chuckled, arms wrapped around my waist from behind, head hanging over my shoulder. “Can’t I do it over your head?” “Nah, that’s breaking the rules. You have to hold it over your own head.” We were in the kitchen baking together, music playing in the background, and Harry had challenged me to try and make meringues for the first time. According to him, the only way I could tell if I’d mixed it properly was to hang the bowl upside down over my head, and if it didn’t all collapse into my hair, apparently that meant it was ready. To say I was a little sceptical was an understatement. I didn’t trust him at all. “Honestly, if you’re winding me up and this goes all over my head, you can consider us done.” “That would be nothing to do with me. That will only happen if you haven’t mixed it sufficiently. You’ll only have yourself to blame.” “I’m just not sure this is a real thing. I think you’re doing this on purpose so I make a fool out of myself.” “I’m offended that you don’t trust me, Fee-Fee.” He kissed my neck. “Have some faith. Do it.” “Put your head right next to mine.” I commanded. “I’ll do it over both our heads.” “Fine.” He lifted, moving his arms from around my waist so they were wrapped loosely around my neck instead, laying them against my chest. “Go on then. Get it done.” I lifted the bowl off the counter with deliberate sluggishness, taking a deep breath in and squealing before my arms flew into the air, dangling the bowl upside down over our heads with my eyes screwed shut, expecting the worst. When I felt nothing, I dared open one eye, and then as soon as I truly felt safe I looked up, saw the motionless white goo hovering over my head. I turned around to face him when he distanced, taking a step back from me and holding his arms out in a way that screamed how disappointed he was in me when he’d clearly been telling the truth. I still had the bowl over my head. “Sorry for not trusting you.” I cringed, giggling. “Well… it might not have been your worst instinct…” With too much speed for me to even fathom, he reached his hand out and slapped it firmly on the bottom of the bowl, pushing down with just the right amount of force to make sure it whacked right over my damn head without hurting me, thudding into place. The room went dark and I stood there in a state of shock, hearing him cackling away to himself and feeling the mix practically melting into my hair. For some time, I was too dumbfounded to do anything other than listen to him laugh at me, but eventually I lifted the bowl back up off my head, seeing how he’d had to balance himself against the counter thanks to his laughter, shooting him the dirtiest look I could muster, meringue dripping through my messy mane. The bastard started laughing even more. I scooped some of the blend into my hand, Harry catching onto my plans a little too late, backing away from me. “No!” He cried through his sniggering. “Not the curls, anything but the curls!” “You’re a little shit, Harry Styles!” I pelted a good chunk that hit him right in the face, laughing as it burst across his features. He rushed back to me, trying to steal the bowl from my hand, the two of us squabbling for the next few minutes, meringue going everywhere; in his hair, all over our faces, all over the floor, on his walls, playful but competitive, laughing and growling as we fought. He grabbed at my face to pull my lips to his, which I saw as the perfect opportunity to slap some more mixture against his cheek, chuckling mischievously before he went straight back in for the kill, pulling at my waist and thrusting his lips together with mine, slipping slightly before he backed me up against the counter, utterly unable to keep his hands off me. I ran my fingers through his hair as we exchanged a breathless embrace, ruining his curls all over again, but at that point we were beyond the point of caring. The quarrel was over and the lust was back, this indisputable desire to devour one another, where everything other than us was blank, bleak, boring, yet our bodies were bursting with colours, so bright and vivid they were blinding. He took my weight and hoisted me up onto the counter, my hands reaching for his belt and snapping it loose with ease, without ever looking down or breaking our kiss. He grunted, reaching to my hips in the hope of pulling my knickers off but ripping them, too fierce, too fervent. “Fuck, sorry.” He gasped. “You owe me.” “I’d be honoured to take you lingerie shopping.” He smirked. “Might as well rip them completely off then.” The sound of the material tearing in his hand made me quake, soon taking the tattered lace and throwing it to the side of them room, yanking his jeans down forcefully, his underwear dragged alongside them. I hitched towards the edge of the counter, perfectly placed for the moment Harry thrust into me, our foreheads bashing together as soon as we connected. “Fuck.” He ground. “Fuck, you’re amazing.” I slung my arms over his shoulders, nibbling at my bottom lip as my body tingled, both in a response to how he felt and the words he’d said. There was this certain twinge and husk in his voice that verified his honesty, like the words had just poured from his lips with little control. I was absolutely loving being so passionate and yet so silly with someone. What was happening between us had breathed this new life into me, made me see relationships and companionship so differently to how I had before. I knew it was early and that it was bound to be exciting at that stage, but there was this feeling in my gut that told me what we had was distinct, unique, something that had the potential to alter the two of us in ways we couldn’t possibly anticipate. There was something special there and it was piercingly palpable. He propped himself up on his tiptoes so that he was perfectly level with my pelvis, shooting his hips forward and pressing his tongue against my bottom lip before it sunk into my mouth, his desperate hands clawing at what little clothing I had on. I placed my hand against his cheek, expecting to feel his soft skin beneath my touch but instead finding more meringue, my laughter bubbling between our lips as he pulled me even closer, his grin growing. My stomach felt like it was on fire, both joy and pleasure scorching a trail through my body, blistering fragments of bliss all through my insides. It was strange to feel so intimidated by something that was happening inside my own body, but it was overwhelming to be experiencing something that felt so prodigious, so out of my control even though it was happening within me. He was grunting with every move he made, trembling, and I hoped he felt as floored by it all as I did. I hoped his body had that same welcomed yet unnerving warmth that mine did. He was so full of passion, apparent in his roaming hands, his commanding kiss, his perfect thrusts. I ran my hands downwards, veering over his neck and then stroking over his tense arms, amazed by their width, how robust they felt. Next, my hands were on his hips, thumbs pressing momentarily against his hip-bone before I moved behind him, my nails clawing lightly at his behind, feeling the power of his thrusts beneath my steady touch. I let his skin go loose, leaning back on the counter and throwing my head back, my arms propping me up as Harry kissed down my neck and my chest, soon taking my nipple into his mouth, my entire body reacting by raising to his touch, speckles growing over my skin because of him, for him. “Harry, that feels so good.” I was short of breath, flagging. I widened my arms to try and find a position more comfortable, but my palm came into contact with a splatter of food created during our earlier fight, and I lost my balance completely. The top of my body totally collapsed, my head twatting against the wall behind me with an almighty thud, immediately bursting out in a fit of laughter despite the pain. “What the fuck, are you okay?” Harry yelped, dragging me upwards. I couldn’t stop laughing as he pulled me close, reaching his hand up to search through my hair and feel over the area I’d hit. When I managed to unscrew my eyes and I saw his face, still covered in mixture, and my laughter increased, Harry’s smile growing but his head shaking. “Does it hurt?” He asked. “Oh my god.” I cackled. “Fee, does it hurt?” “Yeah, it kills but-” “Oi, Fee-Fee, just… let me feel for a bump. Stop giggling!” He tried. “You could be concussed or-” “It’s not that bad.” “Well I’d rather check. Stay still for a sec.” I bit my lip to contain my giggles, resting my forehead against his. He found the right spot, only pressing tenderly against the area but it stung, my left eye scrunching shut. I found it so adorable how seriously he was taking all of it. “Does that hurt?” He asked quietly. “Mm.” “Shit. There’s a bit of a bump there. You wanna stop?” I shook my head, but he didn’t seem fully convinced. He reached his hand up to my face, brushing his thumb beneath my eyes, checking over my face in silence for a few moments. “I promise I’m fine.” I told him, my laughter dying out. “Sure?” “Yeah. Promise you don’t need to look after me.” “I kinda like looking after you.” He shrugged. “Even though… m’not sure you need it.” “The bump on my head begs to differ.” He sniggered, removing his fingers from the swelling and organising some of my hair for me, then wiping away some of the dessert mix that was still on my face. I returned the favour, his eyes creasing as I did, cheeks chubby and crow’s-feet large. We spent a short while in silence, the tips of my hair being twirled by Harry’s fingers, his eyes fixed on my face. “I don’t think I’ve ever been as attracted to you as I am right now.” He told me quietly. Bashful, I dropped my head, attempting to ignore his coquettish smirk, but it was impossible. I couldn’t even shrug it off, tell him he was being silly, because I knew he wasn’t just saying it for the sake of saying it, to make me go all giddy and coy. He’d simply looked at me, felt it, and said it. No pretences, no showboating, just honesty. Being with him was a thing of beauty.

February 21st I loved how bright Harry’s room was in the morning. It seemed no matter the weather, the sun would burst through the dusty glass, scour through the green leaves that sat soaking up the rays, and wake the two of us with serenity and ease. But as I opened my eyes to another day, I noticed that Harry was already awake, sat at the end of his bed, head in his hand, his back taut, and phone pressed against his ear. “I don’t wanna sell it.” I heard him grumble, quiet for a few seconds as whoever was on the other end of the call replied. “I know that, but I don’t… I don’t know.” I extended my leg, gently kicking his back to make him aware that I was awake and his conversation was no longer a private one. He turned around to gage me, producing a smile for me even though it was a noticeably weak one, reaching down by his side to lay his hand on my ankle, greeting me physically and calmly as he turned his face back to the windows. But he didn’t move. I’d really thought he’d take the conversation elsewhere, but he remained where he was, rubbing his thumb over my skin in a soothing manner, listening carefully to the caller. “Where?” He mumbled, then seemed frustrated by the reply he received. “For fuck sake. When?” I sat myself up, hitching towards the end of the bed so I was close to him, reaching to pinch at the bottom of his neck, kneed over the area in the hope of relaxing his rigid frame. I didn’t have a clue who he might be talking to, or what they were saying that was leaving him so morose. He seemed miserable, frustrated, exasperated, tired. He reacted to my touch, if only slightly, freeing a moderate sigh and lifting his head. “Fine… Yeah, I’ll be there. I’ll get the soonest flight I can.” My stomach dropped at his words. “But it’s just a discussion. M’still not sure.” I wondered if it was something to do with his mother, if he was still in touch with someone who was looking for where she lived, how to get in touch with her, but I couldn’t make much sense of what he was saying. He hung up rapidly, dropping his phone down to the floor without a care. I hated seeing him so blue. “Is everything okay?” I asked gingerly, moving to sit right at his side. “Everything’s fine.” His words and his smile were unpersuasive, turning to me and laying his hand on my bare thigh. “You sure?” He nodded, shifting closer and then leaning in to kiss me tenderly, his mouth slow and subtle. It was only a brief embrace before he’d pulled away, kissing the tip of my nose for a moment, so solemn that I could barely stand looking at his face. “I have to go away for a while.” “How long?” “Just a few days or… weeks, m’not sure.” He was disappearing again. I felt like I was going to cry, even though that seemed completely ridiculous. I had this bad feeling about it, like maybe he wouldn’t come back for some reason, I wasn’t sure why. But at least this time I’d had some warning. The last two times he’d left, I hadn’t known about it until I’d seen the sign on the door leading into his gym. At least this time he was actually telling me; that felt like progress. I looked down, forcing myself not to cry because he hadn’t really given me a reason to. I guess I was paranoid, more than anything. I was worried something bad would happen, that he was thinking of moving somewhere else again. “Okay.” I accepted sombrely. “Sorry.” “You just seem so sad, I don’t like it.” “I’m sad because I don’t wanna go.” “Then don’t.” He lowered his head to reach my mouth and kissed me again, pecking over my motionless lips, and I knew he was trying to comfort me, but it was difficult to feel reassured after witnessing him during that call. “I have to, Fee-Fee.” He whispered. “I’ve got… some things I need to sort.” I could tell by how vague he was being that he didn’t want to discuss whatever it was, so I simply nodded, not questioning it because I wasn’t even sure I wanted to hear his answer. “You promise you’ll come back?” I fretted. “Of course I’ll come back.” “I worry, because-” “You don’t need to worry, I promise. I wouldn’t just leave you like that, Alfie. I’ll come back as soon as I can.” He sounded so assertive, so sure of what he was saying that it became truly difficult to continue doubting him. He put his hands on my waist, taking my weight and shifting my body so that I was straddling him, hiding his face against my neck and kissing caringly, his tongue snaking over my skin as I frailly gripped onto tufts of his hair. I guess another reason I didn’t want him to leave was because I knew how much I’d miss him. He had become such a constant in my life, someone who I spent the majority of my time with, and I didn’t like the thought of my days without him. I could no longer imagine an evening where I wasn’t nuzzled into his side or experiencing his adoring words. It could have been two days or two weeks, but I knew I’d miss him terribly. Harry brought his lips to mine, doing everything he could to instil some confidence into me. “Please don’t worry. All I want is to be here with you. Don’t think about anything else.” He gasped. “It’s just me and you.” “Just me and you.” I said back to him. I hoped that whenever he came back from where he was going, he’d feel comfortable talking to me, telling me where he’d been and why he’d been there, but I could never be too sure with him. I was getting closer and closer with him, day by day and week by week, but there was this part of me that worried I’d always feel like he was keeping something from me, that there would always be secrets and I’d always be speculating about something. Our kiss soothed far too quickly, and I could see he was trying to perk up, likely for my benefit. “M’gunna go for a shower, then check for flights. Don’t leave yet, okay?” “Okay.” After one final kiss, I got off him so that he could get to his feet, watching him sulk out of his bedroom before I sat back down, trying my very best not to overthink everything and jump to conclusions about a scenario I didn’t have any idea about. It wasn’t worth overthinking something so equivocal, and I knew that, but I also knew I wouldn’t find it as easy as simply telling myself not to worry or hearing him say I didn’t need to worry. Harry was a complex character, and the way he handled his emotions and his life seemed just as intricate from what I knew of him. On some occasions his actions and choices had been much more harmful than good, and once again he wasn’t allowing me in to help him, to support him. Maybe he didn’t need my help, but how anxious the call seemed to have made him lead me to believe he could’ve benefitted from a little succour. Once more, I was scrambling in the search for answers to unknown questions, puzzling over another mystery surrounding a boy I knew so much and yet so little about, a boy I was falling for. I just really didn’t want him to leave.

#HAPPY BLOODY SUNDAY #Also Happy Met Gala Eve Day #we're not ready #HBS29 #enjoyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy #I'm out for the rest of the evening now so #looking forward to coming back and hearing your thoughts on this

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