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didhewinkback · 1 year

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the moment you knew

a something old blurb, exploring the moments they both knew they were in love with each other. it switches pov halfway through

word count: 5k, warnings: its not the proposal

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2009

When you were fifteen, Johnny’s parents were going to be out of town for a whole weekend and he was planning on throwing the banger of the year. It was all anyone in your year could talk about for the whole week. Everyone was planning on going. Everyone, that is until your parents told you they had plans that night and you had to babysit Archie. You screamed, you cried, you got sent to your room but they wouldn’t budge, not caring at all about the fact that they were absolutely ruining your life.

You sat on the couch that Saturday, playing round after round of Mario Kart and bemoaning the state of things when there was a knock on your door. You told Archie to pause the game while you got up to answer it, expecting it to be the pizza he begged you to order, grumbling and stomping your feet the whole way. You swung the door open, cash in hand, only to find Harry on the other side, holding a few DVDs and a spare gamecube controller.

“Room for one more?” he asked, smile growing on his face when he sees the shocked expression on yours.

“What - what are you doing here?”

“Came to hang out with my best mate Archie. Guess you’re alright too.” he says, pushing past you to get into the house, heading straight for your kitchen.

“Harry!!!!!” Archie shrieks, running from the couch to the kitchen and hugging him tight, Harry laughing as he hugs him back. “I’m soooo happy you’re here, she was being sooo soo boring.”

“I dunno, man.” he says, smiling over at where you’re frozen in your spot, in shock that he’s here, crashing you and your brother’s pajama party instead of being at the actual party a few blocks over. He winks at you and your cheeks immediately burst into flames and you have to look away. That’s new. “I think your sister’s pretty cool.”

“Not tonight. She’s in a mood.” Archie says adamantly with a firm shake of his head, which makes Harry laugh, hard. His head tilting back, eyes crinkling. You can’t take your eyes off him. Has he always been this cute?

“Hey mate, ‘m gonna get some snacks ready in here, but I brought my controller, why don’t you get us all set for the next round? You’re the only one I’d trust with this,” he says, deadly serious, handing Archie the controller, which he holds to his chest with utter reverence, nodding before sprinting back to the tv room. Harry watches him go with a smile, before turning back to rifle through your fridge.

“Think your dad will notice if we nick two of his beers?”

“Why are you here?” you blurt out, mind still whirring from seeing him on your doorstep.

“Ouch.” he says, raising his eyebrows at the blunt question.

“I don’t mean - I just mean - “ you say, shaking your head, unable to think of anything else but the fact that he’s here. Not at the party he’s supposed to be at, the party of the century, but here. In your house. To play Mario Kart with you and your little brother.

“Johnny’s party is tonight. Everyone’s going to it. Like Katie’s gonna be there -”

“Yeah, well, you couldn’t go. Wouldn’t have been any fun without you. ” he says simply with a shrug, not waiting for your answer as he grabs two cans of beer, letting the fridge door swing shut behind him as he turns towards you. “Rather be here. With you.”

Oh.

And it’s like the world tilted off its axis. Time stops as you stand there, absolutely frozen in place, staring back at him as he grabs a bag of crisps off your counter, experiencing a feeling you’ve never felt before, a feeling that in years to come would only grow stronger, a feeling you would associate with him and only him. All these little moments from the past year suddenly make more sense, like missing pieces of a puzzle clicking into place.

The way his hand holding yours at his birthday party made sparks shoot up your spine, the way your heart races when you catch a whiff of that new Axe spray he’s been using, the way your cheeks flush when he holds eye contact with you, something that never happened before this year. It’s like your chest has been cracked open, warmth flooding your veins, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Your heart is racing and you feel like you’re on fire.

You love him. You’re in love with him.

Oh god.

“You coming?” he asks, starting to head towards the tv room, beers and snacks in hand, pausing when he looks back at you, brows furrowing. “What’s that look on your face for?”

“What?! Nothing - nothing.” you say quickly, warmth flooding your cheeks. “I’m fine. I’m gonna grab some pretzels or something.”

“I already grabbed the pretzels.”

“Right. You did. I’m uh. I’m going to wait here. For the pizza. Should be here aaaaany minute.” you say, brain scrambling for any sort of excuse, needing a minute to stand here alone and think.

“Oookay. You’re being really weird.” he says, heading into the living room, leaving you standing alone in the kitchen, the flush on your cheeks only getting warmer by the second. You can hear him and Archie talk in the tv room, his animated tone making your heart beat even faster, thinking about how good he was with your little brother, how good he was with everyone, how good he was.

You bury your head in your hands, trying to catch your breath, to slow your racing thoughts.

You were in love with your best mate.

What the fuck were you going to do?!

2019

It was his mum’s birthday and Harry was prepared for anything.

Rain? He had ordered three types of tents, all to block out a potential storm but not detract the view from the garden that his mum cherished so much. Sound system glitches? He had five different kinds of bluetooth speakers and six auxiliary cords to be sure there would be no interference with the Shania Twain playlist he curated himself. Uncle Mack has one too many and starts asking Gemma how it feels that her younger brother will be getting married before her? He had Johnny prepped to keep an eye on his drinking and distract him with Man City stats if needed.

It had been ages since he had been able to be home for the celebration and he was determined to make it perfect. He loved his mum more than anything and even though he had a team of people willing (and paid) to assist him at the drop of a hat, he was set on doing most things himself, a point he knew his mother would take pride in. He had invited all her favorite relatives and closest friends, ordered a massive catered menu inclusive of all food allergies and even decorated her favorite cake, strawberry cream, himself. He had first aid kits, a stocked bar, endless supplies of SPF. He was prepared for absolutely anything.

Anything, that was, except for you.

He was having a drink with his cousins, reminiscing about the family parties of the past when he looked up and there you were.

Christ.

He’d never seen you in that dress before. He felt like his eyes were bugging out of his head as they traced the way it held your body so perfectly, like it had been custom made for you. He was practically ogling you, something he had never done before, at least not consciously. You’d always been pretty but today, right here, right now, you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. It felt like the earth shifted under his feet. Like the world tilted off its axis. His pulse was racing, his brow starting to sweat.

He was making his way over to you before even making the conscious choice to do so. It’s been ages since he’s seen you or even talked to you, his calls and messages going unanswered for weeks now, ever since his album listening party in August, which yeah, he fucked that one up. Should’ve talked to you first, should’ve done something different to not ruin the tradition you’ve had together since you were 17, the way you’ve been ignoring him making him realize it always meant as much to you as it did to him.

He can’t seem to get anything right these days, keeps doing what is expected of him, what looks best, ignoring what he wants and hurting people in the process. His brain has been so muddled these past few months that at this point he doesn’t even know what he wants. He feels like he doesn’t know anything. Especially here and now, feeling like he’s burning up on the inside just from looking at you.

He knows he should give you space, let you come to him so he can take the time to pull you aside and right any wrongs but he can’t stop himself, drawn to you like a moth to a flame. He was by your side in seconds, breath catching in his throat when you turned away from your conversation with Gemma to face him, small smile on your face.

“Y’ look - that dress is nice. Um. Y’ look - y’look really nice.” He’s stuttering over his words, barely able to string a single sentence together, feeling hot under his collar, Gemma’s scrutinous gaze not helping in the least.

He hasn’t felt this way around you since he was 13 and tried to hold your hand on a walk to the heath one day, only for his sweaty fingers to get caught in one of your bracelets. He had turned practically scarlet in embarrassment, pretended there was a bee he was trying to shoo away, refusing to admit the truth, that he had a massive crush on you and all he wanted to do was hold your hand.

“I’m going to get a drink.” Gemma says, eyes darting between the two of you. “Either of you want anything?”

You both shake your heads, thanking her with smiles and he can feel her eyes linger on him for a second, the way he keeps shifting his weight, fiddling with his rings, his sister picking up on his nerves better than anyone before she squeezes his shoulder and heads over to the drinks. He watches her walk away and then turns back to face you, where you’re staring down at your hands, not able to make eye contact for more than a few seconds.

“‘M really glad -” he starts to say, at the same time you say “Is your mum - ?” before you both cut yourselves off, sheepishly laughing.

“You go,” he says softly, desperate for you to talk to him about anything, biting on his tongue as he wills his mouth to stop moving, feeling petrified that if he opened his mouth right now all that would come out would be something along the lines of “I know ‘m engaged and you’re my best mate but you look dead fit.”

“Was just gonna ask if your mum was having a nice time.”

He deflates a bit, was hoping for more about you or what you’ve been up to, anything to get a good read on you but you’re talking to him so he’ll take what he can get.

“Yeah, think she’s cried about three times already. So far, so good.” he says, resisting the urge to duck his head to force you to make eye contact with him.

“You done good, H.”

“Thanks,” he says and you smile at him quickly before looking back at your hands, silence falling between you once more.

He hates this. He’s not sure what’s going on or what he did, knows it's more than just that party, the two of you have been out of sync for months now and clearly you’re trying to avoid talking about it but he has to try something. He’s got a feeling there’s things you aren’t telling him, but he also knows there’s been certain things he’s been avoiding talking about, the nerves gnawing away at him about his upcoming nuptials, how he’s not sure what he’s feeling is just a case of cold feet or something more, something that terrifies him when he thinks about it too much. So, he doesn't. He just looks back at you, feeling more lost than ever before.

A strand of hair falls in front of your face and he has to clench his hand to hold himself back from tucking it behind your ear, suddenly feeling desperate to touch, to drag his knuckle down your cheek and along your collarbone, wondering if the sensation would make your breath catch, fire simmering in his belly at the thought of being the cause.

What the fuck?

He shakes his head, trying to drive those thoughts out of it, not sure where they’re coming from, thoughts he’s never had about you until now, at least not that he’s aware of. His cheeks burst into flames, looking back at you to be sure you can’t tell what he’s thinking, but you’re barely looking at him and he can’t - this can’t be how today goes. He needs his best mate, needs to have a fun day celebrating his mum, needs to forget the weirdness and stress of this year, if only for a few hours.

“Hey, so I know we’ve both been busy and I haven’t heard from you in a while,” he says, speaking quickly when he catches your look of apprehension, “which is fine, ‘ve done that with you loads of times it’s nothing - I didn’t mean to bring that up. Not like that. I just -”

He pauses, takes a deep breath, tries to rearrange his scrambled brain.

“We’re both here and you look great and I’d just - I’d really like it if we could just forget everything else and just hang out like old times. Just have fun. Me and you. And Johnny. ‘M flying solo today -” he says, catching the way you visibly relax and oh.

Is that it? Do you not like Erin? You’ve always seemed to get along with her just fine and they’ve been dating for years and you’ve never said anything. If that’s it, why haven’t you said anything? Your friendship has been rocky since the engagement but he never thought - if you’d had a problem you’d have said something, right? But you’ve both been avoiding any talk of relationships in recent years, cagey about the subject with each other ever since that fight you got into the pub a few years ago. Maybe that’s been a mistake.

He wants to get into it now, demand answers from you, but knows that would negate everything he just said, and knows that keeping everything light is the only reason you’re still looking at him now.

“It’s been a really weird year and right now I just want to hang out with my best mates, celebrate my mum before my work schedule gets mental. Let’s just fuck around today, yeah? See how many beers we can sneak Archie?” he says, something loosening in his chest when you huff a small laugh.

“Yeah,” you say, smile growing on your face. “That sounds good to me.”

“Cool. Let’s grab a drink then?” he says, turning to walk towards the bar.

“Wait,” you say, reaching out to grab his hand, quickly letting go when he spins back to you, his hand tingling with the ghost of your touch, itching to grab hold once more. “I just - I’m sorry for not being around, um -”

“Hey, no, ‘s fine. Got nothing to apologize for. Y’ just -”, he pauses, placing his hand on your shoulder and squeezing once, eyes never leaving yours. “Y’ know you can talk to me about anything, yeah? Your friendship means everything to me. You’re my best mate. That’s never changing.”

“Right,” you say and there’s a flash of something in your eyes he can’t quite decipher, gone just as soon as it appeared.

“‘M gonna hug you now.”

“Please don’t -”

“It’s happening whether you like it or not,” he says, wrapping his arms around you, feeling relieved when you do the same, relaxing into his hold. He’s holding you tighter than necessary but so are you, both of you seemingly needing to be close after this year of miscommunication and distance. He could stand here all night holding you, he thinks, feeling the most at ease he has in ages. You pull away first, quickly rubbing at your eyes but before he can say anything you’re already starting to move away.

“To the bar, yeah? Pretty sure Archie’s got a new girlfriend he won’t talk about. A few pints oughta loosen him up,” you say, already heading over there.

And he knows alcohol will only make more of a mess in his already muddled brain, the way he’s fighting the urge to watch you walk away, a swirl of confusing emotions flowing through him, but he needs this time with you. To have fun, let go. To forget. Scared of what will happen if he ruminates too much. So he doesn’t.

Six Months Later

He presses his palms to his eyes until the memory disappears and all he sees is black, practically curling in on himself as the April air whips around him, the estate lights blinking in the distance, the last of the partygoers still going at it. Was that the moment? Should he have been paying more attention?

You said you loved him for most of your life - had he been that selfish, that wrapped up in his own bullshit to not notice? He wracks his brain for signs of something he missed, rifling through memories to try to look at them from this new lens. Tries to think of the biggest moments of friction in your friendship, they are far and few between but …oh. There was that holiday break that haunted him for years when you wouldn’t talk to him when he brought home… - you said you felt sick but was it because he brought a girlfriend home? Were you jealous? Or heartbroken?

He continues on his walk, shaking his head at himself, at this night, at what this weekend has come to. He’s felt off kilter all year, feeling like he’s performing to an adoring crowd, his performance instincts trickling into his real, personal life, making him feel like a shell of himself. He knew something felt wrong the second he got down on one knee in front of all of Erin’s friends and family but brushed it off as nerves because she looked so happy so surely he must be too?

But he’s been lying to himself, too scared of disappointing those around him to grapple with the truth, trying to convince himself that this was part of growing up and becoming a man, that real love, the marriage love, isn’t the all consuming, unquenchable, need them like you need air kind of love. That a mature love is one that just feels fine most of the time, something expected, simple, fine. He keeps telling himself that being so public with his love life is what happens when you enter new tiers of fame with a famous partner, that everything is happening as it should, regardless of how he feels about it. Resigning himself to this new reality without taking a moment to challenge it or question it or demand better for himself.

Not questioning how weird it is that his engagement, supposed to be one of the biggest moments of his life, happened without his best mate ever knowing. That the thought of telling you filled him with so much dread that he avoided it entirely, just sent you an invite to the engagement party like a coward. How you had politely offered congratulations then avoided him for the rest of the night, which turned into the rest of the year, blaming work schedules and busy social calendars, leaving him feeling more unmoored than ever before. Never questioning the reason why that was, not realizing you’ve been his anchor for so long.

You.

You’re the first phone call he would make when he couldn’t sleep late at night, on a bus somewhere in another American city, feeling so young and old at the same time, worn down from years on the road while feeling all the confusing emotions of being a teenager, needing to hear your voice to calm his racing mind. The first face he would seek out in any crowd, especially that first solo night at MSG, feeling like he was teetering on the edge, getting swept up into something so much bigger than himself, and then locking eyes with you, the two of you looking at each other as if to say “can you fucking believe this?”. The first person to call him out when he started getting too used to this new world around him, a bit high off his own supply, leaning into the parties and the girls and the paps screaming his name, the free drinks and clothes and gifts, starting to expect things to be done for him instead of asking first until you shrewdly looked at him from across the table one day at lunch in 2014 and said, “you’re turning into a bit of a wanker”, which shut that down right quick.

The first person he would fly over when he felt lonely on tour, living for the way your face would light up when you could see the view from the stage, the way you lived for all the tourist attractions, your post show fro-yo bike rides turning into late nights at whatever bars were close by turning into private parties at the best restaurants each city had to offer as his career expanded and took shape. The first person he would see when he landed back home and over the years crashing at your house for days on end became crashing at your dorm became crashing at your flat in the big city, with you showing him your new favorite spots in London, telling him he can’t call himself a true Londoner until he lives here for more than six months at a time. Some of his favorite memories over the last few years have been exploring the city with you, you playing tour guide for once, taking him to off the beaten path museums and coffee shops, indie theatres and underground dance clubs, determined to make your home city feel like his, a feat that became impossible when he got engaged to an American.

He thinks back to his mum’s party, how visions of you in that dress lingered in his mind for weeks on end, how when he began to promote the new album, it was sometimes your face he saw when he closed his eyes and sang, something that only happened when he was trying to write songs with White Eskimo when he was 13, desperately trying to rhyme “hairband” with “want to be your man”. How he’s tried to sit down in the studio the past month to work out his thoughts through song, only confusing himself more when the only lyrics that would pour out of him were about you. You, who he’s barely spoken to these last few months.

He’s spent the last year trying to convince himself that the distance between you is due to growing up and schedule changes, that it is always difficult for the best mate who’s a girl to get along with the fiance. He knows how horribly reductive and stereotypical that is but you weren’t giving him anything to work with and he was too determined to not rock the boat to ever ask, never once thinking you were keeping your space because his engagement broke your heart. Because you’re in love with him.

You’re in love with him.

He wants to be angry with you, angry that you could keep this from him for so long, never saying anything for years, that you waited until now to do anything about it but instead he only feels anger at himself. That he missed the signs, that he didn’t try to talk to you more over these last few months, that he let you think the only solution was to leave. That he spent years convincing himself that when he gave any of your boyfriends a hard time it was just him being protective, that those pangs of jealousy he felt whenever some random bloke made you smile was par for the course of your friendship, that it was totally completely normal for his blood to boil whenever one of his mates from LA asked for your number, a request he always ignored. How could he be so bloody stupid?

He clenches his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose with a shaky hand. This weekend has felt like someone placed a ton of bricks on his chest, the pressure slowly building and burning every hour that passed by. He couldn’t catch his breath all night until he finally found you on that courtyard, heart fluttering at how pretty you looked until he took in your expression, your packed bags, the way you were clutching onto your mum.

He winces when he remembers how broken you looked, tear tracks down your face despite your best efforts to wipe them away. He had been desperate to do whatever he could to make you stop looking like that, whatever he could to help. Never once thinking…

He stops walking, staring up at the night sky as he blinks back tears, tries to slow his racing heart, his racing mind. Every thought that has flown through his head over the last few hours, every memory that he has picked apart, overanalyzed, it's all come back to you. You, one of the only constants through his ever changing career and ever growing life. You, his best mate and his favorite person on the planet. You, who stood in that courtyard looking like the most beautiful woman he has ever seen and told him you’re in love with him, that you’ve loved him for most of your life and he’s not sure anything could get any better than that.

The fog in his head clears as he blinks up at the sky, feeling more settled in his body than he has all year, feeling like he finally truly knows what he wants.

It’s you.

It’s always been you.

Nothing has ever made more sense to him. He’s been in love before, has had it reciprocated but nothing - none of that, none of them - ever felt like this. He didn’t know anything could feel like this. It’s like his chest has cracked open, the world tilting on its axis, a missing puzzle piece finally fitting in place.

All the confusion, all the agony, all the questions have suddenly faded away. There’s a reason it always felt like something was missing from his relationship, from what was supposed to be his great love. There’s a reason few things have felt worse than having to watch you kiss Conor Williams at that birthday party. There’s a reason he never feels more settled, more at home, more himself than he does when he’s with you. He started loving you when he was 13 and a part of him never stopped. He’s never been able to give himself over fully to anyone else because a part of him has always belonged to you. And now he wants you to have all of him.

He’s in love with you. And you’re in love with him. The greatest woman he’s ever known, his favorite brain, the heart he’s always felt most protective over has been steadily beating for him all this time. He can’t stop the tears now as they streak down his face. Feeling the most confusing combination of elation, clarity and dread. Because he knows now what he has to do and it’s going to be ugly. It’s going to be the worst thing he’s ever done to another person.

Because he can’t get married tomorrow. Not to someone who isn't you. And he wants to like, date you first before he -. He shakes his head at himself, running his shaky hands through his hair, huffing a laugh of disbelief at how he’s already getting ahead of himself, how he already feels like he can breathe properly again, how nothing has ever been more clear.

He’s going to go face this now, before any more damage can be done. He’s going to talk to his mum and Gemma, then he’s going to talk to Erin.

And then he’s going to go get you.

a/n: if you've been with this story and me for a while first of all ily second of all, you know how much i looove to explore their past before writing a big moment for their future and this was so fun to think about and work through. i had written the whole first half and his 2019 bit in like march so i loved getting to come back to it! thought everyone would like to see where he was at post confession. let me know what you think ! also the collage is just of his parts, i didnt want to put a pic of 2009 harry up. outside pics are the party, middle pic is rehearsal dinner fit.

taglist:@tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles, @spock4presidnet, @sunshinemoonsposts, @indierockgirrl, @jerseygirlinca, @kissitnhekitchen, @goldnrry,

#something old #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles angst #i didnt edit this much #please let me know what u think love u mean it

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