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1d1195 · 10 months ago

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Time Extra I

Read Time here

This was one of the first stories I wrote when I came back from my hiatus a couple years ago. I thought about it every day for years when I was really not feeling my best and finally put it on paper. There are, what I think, some pretty intense trigger warnings on the other parts of the series--it's pretty different than my other happy fluffy writing. This is not going to be too sad though--there is a vague mention of the previous parts so read with caution but it won't be anything vivid. It's fluffy stuff based on this ask.

~2.6k words

I hope you like it :)

Everything was completely perfect. After so many years of feeling distraught and lost, Harry thought it was a miracle—no, that she was a miracle—that he could feel so happy, so complete.

Which was why it was terrifying to imagine that he could ruin it all.

Over the two years since they reunited, they didn’t talk much about the actual day once they moved past it. She would hear from her ex-fiancé’s family now and again. She would run into them at the store or something. Most were pretty kind to her overall, but she could feel the contempt in their voices. It didn’t bother her completely—it was just frustrating that she knew they would neverunderstand.

Harry still went to his regularly scheduled therapy appointment. She did as well. They both worked, they both lived together, everything was easy. They danced in the kitchen and watched Niall play his guitar at open mic nights.

Everything was completely perfect. After so many years of feeling distraught and lost, Harry thought it was a miracle—no, that she was a miracle—that he could feel so happy, so complete.

Which was why it was terrifying to imagine that he could ruin it all.

There was a plan. A big to do. He was going to have her family, his family, their friends all in the same place. He was going to tell her how much he loved her and that he never wanted to be away from her ever. The way time had separated them only to bring them back together had to mean something.

Harry was terrified.

Maybe it was just some sort of savior’s complex. She always said he saved her that day. He didn’t see how it was possible. There was no saving he did. He did the drowning, he ruined her day, he made her pass out, he made her scared and feel sick to her stomach.

Sometimes, when Harry was having a bad day, he would think about what her life would be like if he hadn’t called her. He imagined it would be very much the same as it was with him, but she would maybe have a baby to take care of by then. She would make dinner for her husband. There would be a pile of laundry to fold on the sofa and a new episode of her show playing on the TV. It would be normal.

But it was normal in their lives as well.

There were days they argued—nothing major, but the world didn’t end the way Harry thought it would. She slept soundly beside him and reached blindly for him if they separated at night. Her baking skills never ceased to amaze him. On days that he didn’t even realize he was struggling a little more than others, he arrived home to his favorite chocolate chip cookies (the ones that she put walnuts in because she knew Harry loved them) or those fudgy brownies that he could only eat one or he would get a stomachache. But they made him feel whole. Cared for.

She was there.

So of course, when he asked her to marry him it had to be perfect. It had to be special. It needed to be the most perfect moment of her life. The people who loved and adored her needed to be there and see how much Harry adored her. Very few people knew what happened that day. Most only knew that she found Harry again. They fell in love again—or as she liked to point out—they remembered they were in love.

Harry had stayed home unbeknownst to her. The final details of the plan needed to be taken care of and he was nothing if not thorough. As far as she knew, they were having a date night when she got home from work. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that would set off some kind of alarm or spoil the surprise.

Harry was reading the speech he had on his phone—it had been memorized for over a year. He just needed to get the details in order. When she moved in, it felt so right. Part of him wished he had asked her right then.

You wanted red roses or pink ones? Niall texted.

Both.

Aren’t you a regular Casanova.

Proposing in front of everyone they knew seemed a little crazy now. Harry had left the restaurant after seeing the set-up, the little private table that would keep them out of sight of those waiting for her response. Now it was waiting. Waiting for her to get home, they would get ready, they would drive to the restaurant as boyfriend and girlfriend and hopefully return as an engaged couple.

Harry felt dizzy. If he messed up and it was less than perfect, less than what she deserved, he would lose his mind. She was his angel. Every single day. Each day he saw her and spoke to her. There was nothing, no one, more important than her. For a few moments he sat on the couch, his head tilted toward the ceiling, and he took those deep breaths that his therapist instructed him to take when he was feeling overwhelmed.

He thought about the first time he did them and she looked at him curiously when he turned his attention back to the show they were watching. “Are you alright?” She asked.

He felt embarrassed. “When m’feeling overwhelmed, m’therapist told me how t’breathe—”

She blinked. “Oh,” she interrupted. “Are you feeling overwhelmed about something I can help with?” She asked.

Of course she asked. The kindness that emanated from her was overwhelming in itself. “No, sometimes m’jus’ a little...” he shrugged.

She nodded understandingly. “I get that way too. Can you teach me?” She asked.

“Kitten,” he chuckled with a shake of his head. “M’sure y’know how t’do the deep breathing exercises.”

“Every doctor is different,” she shrugged. “Tell me,” she encouraged.

He knew she was trying to help bond with him over something she didn’t need to. Another way she could help take care of his addled brain. It was so sweet. He talked her through the steps, feeling awkward that he was explaining how to breathe to a professional that did this with her own patients every day.

“It’s supposed t’feel like a balloon is being inflated in your ribs,” he explained the metaphor his own doctor used with him.

“Oh, I like that,” she mumbled adding it to the back of her mind as she followed his instructions. “I’m sorry you’re feeling overwhelmed, baby,” she cooed softly, stroking his hair behind his ear. “Do you want tea or something?”

Harry smiled at the memory, eyes closed, face toward the ceiling. He heard the door open and in walked the angel. Her phone pressed to her ear, while she tilted her head to the side. Once she set her bag down, held the phone in her hand, she shook her head.

But when she made eye contact, she smiled at Harry, mouthing hi, and blowing a kiss with her free hand. Harry thought his heart would explode. “Mom, I just got home, and I’ve had a really long day,” she explained. “Can I call you tomorrow?” She asked. “Great. Love you too, bye.”

She put her phone on the counter and sighed deeply. “Every time I leave this apartment, I’m reminded why I never want to leave,” she grumbled.

Harry chuckled. “Everything okay with your mum?”

She nodded. “Fine, just going on and on about nonsense,” she rolled her eyes. “She’s meeting my sister for dinner and my sister did not offer to drive. It makes me immensely angry.”

“I see,” he frowned. “Where are they going?” He asked, wondering how much of the surprise her mum may have let slip.

“She didn’t say. I don’t care. It’s not like I can go drive her and pick her up myself,” she rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry. I had a tough day with some tough patients and I’m letting it dip into our date night,” the frustration on her face disappeared at the word date and a smile replaced it. “I’m looking forward to dinner and especially dessert. They have lava cake,” she said knowingly.

Harry already knew that of course. He was sure to tell the hostess that she would want one. “I know, kitten,” he smiled. It pained him to say the next sentence, but he had to. It wasn’t fair to her frustrated. “Y’know... if you’re not feeling well, we could stay in and—”

“Absolutely not,” she shook her head fiercely. “I just need to change and touch up my makeup. I need a nice date night,” she leaned over the couch, kissed him squarely on the mouth and then headed toward the bedroom.

Harry smirked, feeling at ease for a moment and listening to the sound of her hum as she fixed herself up for the night. His heart started pounding as the minutes ticked by. In less than three hours he would have a fiancée.

Or so he hoped.

The thought of her saying no hadn’t really occurred to him. They lived together, they loved each other, it seemed like a natural step in the relationship.

Right?

Suddenly the thoughts of inadequacy rushed through him and stuck to every crevice of his brain. Every thought was plagued with the notion of shortcomings. He wasn’t good enough for her. There were all the thoughts of her being trapped with him for nothing but ruining her original wedding day.

Maybe she didn’t even want to be married again. Maybe reliving the memory of the first time she tried getting married was something she never wanted to experience again. The idea that he would bring it up and make her sad made him nauseous.

“What time is our reservation?” She called.

“Six,” he cleared his throat trying to push the emotion out of his voice and mind, but it was next to impossible.

They would leave in twenty minutes.

She would say yes. Save him embarrassment. Wait to talk with him in private. They wouldn’t get married. She would move out. There wouldn't be a them anymore. Harry would—

“Do you think they’ll have bread?” Her voice was closer, Harry could hear her heels on the floor of the apartment echoing closer to him. “Or should I have a snack?” Her fingers were fiddling with the earring on her left ear then she opened the fridge to look inside, scanning the contents of leftovers, and cheese bites that she kept for emergencies such as the current one. “Are you hungry at all?” Harry’s stomach hurt so much but it wasn’t from hunger. She didn’t look at him to ask the question, focusing on the snacks too much to notice that he had left the couch. “I’m honestly starving—”

“Will you marry me?”

The room seemed to freeze. The moment of time suspended for who knew how long. Slowly, she half-closed the fridge door to get a visual of her boyfriend in front of her. Her dress was unzipped—she intended for Harry to zip her up once she found a suitable snack. Only one earring was in her ear. The bobby pin she had pinched between her teeth muffled her voice just a bit.

Harry was on the floor. Knelt all but two feet away from her, a little velvet box held out to her in his shaky hands, making the sparkling diamond twinkle in the kitchen light. The bobby pin fell from her lips and sounded like a bookshelf had fallen on the floor in contrast to the quietness of the moment.

“Harry,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, closing his eyes tightly to try and will the tears away. “I have this huge thing planned. All our friends and family are going t’be at the restaurant. It was supposed t’be a surprise because y’deserve everyone y’know and love t’be there but m’realizing y’might say no. Y’might—”

“Harry,” she repeated, her voice so gentle, but there was the sound of disapproval evident in just the tone of her voice.

“—not want t’get married. Not after last time. Maybe not t’me. M’sorry. I wanted it t’be perfect,” he whispered. “I had a whole speech planned ‘bout how much I love and adore you. How you’re m’favorite person on this earth and how I feel so completely safe and cared for and I want t’do that for you for the rest of our lives,” he paraphrased the monologue that he had memorized ages ago but suddenly couldn’t remember a word of it. “But you’ve had a long day and m’not going t’make it any easier asking in front of all of them if y’want t’say no. So, I have t’do it now. Will you marry me?” He repeated.

Her lips were parted just slightly. Her eyes shiny and beautiful. God, she never looked so beautiful. “Harry,” her voice was soft.

“If s’a no,” his voice cracked. “M’gonna say you’re sick. That I can’t in good conscience let y’go out when y’don’t feel well.”

“Harry Styles,” she whispered, a shake of her head. “Yes, isn’t an adequate enough word for what I want to say to you,” she promised.

His head snapped up again, he hadn’t realized he wasn’t looking at her while he rambled, terrified to see the rejection on her face. But that wasn’t rejection. Yes, he realized, wasn’t a word that meant rejection.

“You said yes,” he murmured.

“Did you honestly think I would say no?”

It was silent again. Like time suspended once more, he tried to remember if time was necessary to breathe. If there was something he was supposed to do or say. It took him that moment to realize he was memorizing every detail. Every skin cell on her pretty face, the way the air smelled, how the chill from the fridge was giving him goosebumps.

Without noticing it happened, he was standing. Harry’s face was in her neck, his arms around her waist and his nose inhaling her sweet scent. His eyes watered and he swallowed hard as he shook his head against her skin. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, Harry,” she giggled, teary as well. Her arms around him just as tightly and she kissed the side of his head buried in her neck.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed in her embrace, but she didn’t rush him. Eventually he pulled away from her. He grabbed the ring out of its cushion, dropping the little box to the floor beside her bobby pin, and slipped it on her fourth finger. She looked at it briefly. She had seen a diamond on that finger before but looking at this one now, the other one looked terrible in comparison. It wasn’t right.

This was right.

“I have t’take it back,” he whispered.

She smiled and nodded. “I know.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again.”

“Can’t believe you thought I would say no,” she giggled.

He rolled his eyes. “You are so perfect, kitten. M’so in love with you. If something isn’t perfect for you...” he shook his head. “You deserve perfect.”

“I hope you know,” she wiggled her ring finger in front of his eyes. “That means you,” she promised.

This relieved, happy expression crossed his face and he felt so overwhelmed with happiness that he thought he would cry. “How much time do we have before we need t'leave?” He murmured to himself looking at the stove clock.

“Forever,” she shook her head with a smile. Cupped his face and leaned in for his sweet, pink lips. “We have all the time in the world.”

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