#one direction

[leodette]

When it suddenly crashes on you that it is real and not just a nightmare, and the dam of tears breaks 💔

[trashraccoongirl]

forever. ❤️

[this-is-a-podcast-fanblog]

"Kamala Harris raised 50+ million dollars after Biden dropped out!" you fools.... that's the money she got from selling Biden to One Direction :(

[meltingfin1]

My favorite Louis is barricade Louis

-all credits to photo owners

[1d1195]

Under Construction VI

Read Under Construction here | ~7.2k

From Me/warnings: a sick fic, fluffy, angsty stuff, and Evan

Summary: “Y’scared me,” he admitted. “Not quite falling off your roof, but close. Y’do this t’all your boyfriends?” There was a smile in his voice. “S’this a test of some kind?” She snorted and then winced. “Sorry,” he kissed her forehead. “No jokes.”

March was the longest month of the year.

Teachers should be paid double in the month of March.

She groaned as her alarm went off and her head felt like a balloon was taking residence where her brain was supposed to be. Or behind her eyes. And her ears. Then there was the whole thing with her nose and her throat. Pretty much anything an otolaryngologist would oversee, felt like it was swollen.

Standing up, she moaned again. It felt like her skin hurt. Without turning on the light, she made it to her bathroom. Blindly she reached for the cabinet door of the vanity. As she opened it, it came off in her hand and dropped on her foot, corner first of course. She hissed and rubbed her other foot on top of her injury while the broken door flopped to the ground too loudly for that early in the morning and for someone that felt like they were suffering from the worst hangover of their life.

Sighing she felt blindly for the thermometer among the shelves in the cabinet.

It was definitely DJ. DJ coughed and sneezed all over everything last week regardless of how many times she reminded him of good hygiene practices. There wasn’t enough hand sanitizer and anti-bacterial soap in the world to stop the super germs of kindergarteners.

Moaning she made her way back to her bed and flopped down. No fever. Despite the fact she felt like she was sweating. All she wanted was a break. One little day. But no fever meant this was doable. It was just a cold. She would sleep for another hour. Show up on time instead of early. She’d been doing this long enough so that she could wing together anything that needed to be put together in a last-minute, last-ditch effort and it would still turn out okay, at least. Either way, the little ones wouldn’t know. Miss Bee would be her happy normal self, just a little sniffly. A little sweaty. A little tired.

She just needed one extra hour of sleep.

*

Harry was worried.

She didn’t answer him yesterday afternoon. Not that he demanded nor needed her undivided attention, but he had never seen her leave work early (early for her, that is). He wasn’t quite sure how he missed her. It was probably like a bad sitcom. Harry saw her at dismissal, fortunately there was no Evan so maybe he didn’t feel the need to keep an eye on her as close as he normally did. That was perhaps his mistake. So, when he looked back, she was gone. He headed down the path to her classroom door, peered in like an absolute creep. He was lucky he did the background check that first day he met her. He was certain the police would have been by to arrest him otherwise. But her lights were off. A novelty. In the six months he had known her, not once had he approached her classroom after school and found it, for all intents and purposes, dark.

It was Tuesday. They always laminated and cut paper on Tuesdays.

He frowned at her empty classroom. Hey Bird, everything okay? You leaving in a hurry for something?

How had he missed her? It went unanswered and after school she was usually pretty, immediately responsive. Running a hand through his hair, he headed back up the path. Her car was gone, and he swore it had to be a joke that he was missing her. He imagined if he was crazy enough to run closer to the road, he would have caught the sight of her taillights heading off.

Turning to his car he sighed. He could swing by her house. That would be a normal boyfriend thing to do, right? It wasn’t crazy, or stalkerish, right?

Right?

“No after school special?” Niall asked.

Once he headed for her classroom, Harry rarely saw Niall after school let out. Niall was just one ladder rung (no pun intended) below Harry on the jobsite, and he was kind enough to check things over at quitting time just so Harry could get even a few extra minutes alone with his pretty bird.

“I guess not,” he mumbled. “S’a bit unlike her. Leaving so quickly. Not answering her texts…”

The one he sent at lunch time because he hadn’t seen her at recess either… Harry’s stomach churned uneasily. Was it something he did? No, it couldn’t be… Their date on Sunday was fine. Everything was fine. So, unless it was something Evan said the day before, or something her pretty brain conjured up in her mind, everything was fine.

“Maybe it was a family emergency,” he shrugged. “I’m sure she’ll text you soon. Don’t stress so much.”

But even if it was nothing to worry about, it still worried him because it was so unlike her. “Driving by her house would be…?”

“Creepy,” Niall stated.

“It would, wouldn’t it?” He grumbled. “She said I could come by any time,” he reminded Niall. They stood facing one another, separated by Harry’s car, Niall leaning back against his driver’s door while Harry leaned against his hood.

“Mm, that’s true. Maybe you could be in the neighborhood. Drive by just to see if she’s home? Maybe she’s just had a long day, and she went home,” he suggested.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, maybe,” he muttered. It just sounded so unlike her. Harry really hoped everything was okay. “Yeah. I’ll drive by,” he confirmed to himself and got in his car without much more thought of it. He sped a little faster and headed to the familiar house with its patched roof and painted shut windows. He wanted to ask her to move in, it would be so much easier, but he knew she loved this house. He didn’t blame her. It was adorable, a great area, and so completely her. If it weren’t for the fact he loved her so much, he probably would have already asked her to abandon it.

He parked in the driveway beside her car, his anxiety easing a little as he headed up the path to her front door and knocked. But then his anxiety kicked right back up as his knock went unanswered. He frowned. Called her phone. Which also went unanswered.

Harry felt bad he was tattling, but he remembered her rule was that it wasn’t tattling if it was a safety concern and there was no question that Harry was concerned for her safety. Hey Louis, it’s Harry. Have you heard from her today? She’s not answering her phone…

No, I haven’t. She must be sick. She’s probably trying to sleep it off and isn’t fully coherent. It’s pretty much the only time her phone goes unanswered. Did she go to work today? She’s insane ya know. I’ll check with her sister just to be safe.

Harry felt only the most minor bouts of relief. However, he was still upset if she was ill and went to work and was hiding it.

I’m… actually at her house. Do you think it’s alright to go in and check on her? She’s not answering the door.

Oh yeah, she’s got an open-door policy for loved ones anyway. Probably especially for you. The spare is on the back side of the welcome sign. It’s hooked on a magnet, can’t miss it. Let me know if she’s worse for wear than we thought.

Harry felt all kinds of emotions as he hurried to find the key and get inside her house. “Hey Bird,” he called, putting the key on the entry table and locking the door behind him. “Y’home?” He asked and kicked his shoes off. It still felt creepy whether he had been granted permission or not. “Kitten,” he called quietly again. “Y’making me a bit nervous,” he admitted and headed through the small hall looking for her. “Oh fuck,” he frowned. She was lying on the bathroom floor. The shower was running, hot steam filling the small room she was almost hard to see. One shoe had fallen off her foot. Her face looked peaceful other than the small wrinkle between her brows like she was in pain. “Hey,” he turned the water off and then crouched beside her. The door to the vanity was gone and flopped on the floor haphazardly. Shit, was she unconscious? Did it hit her? “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispered and gently moved her so he could cradle her in his lap. “Kitten?” He tried again. “Bird, m’love, wake up,” he encouraged stroking her face and gently nudging her as best he could without moving her too much in fear the door did hit her head. Then maybe she hit her head again going down. But there was no bump, no cut, not a drop of blood on her face.

She groaned low and long. Pain evident in her face as the peace of her face disappeared and the little stitch in her forehead deepened. “No,” she whined.

“Hey,” he whispered. Relief flooded him. “Bird, s’matter? What happened?”

She coughed hard. Her body was shaking. “S’cold.”

Harry was sweating and so was she. He brushed his hand on the back of her forehead, clammy and a little warm, but not feverish. “Oh, baby,” he frowned.

“M’sleepy.”

“Why didn’t y’say something?” he asked and curled her closer.

“Don’t move me, m’head hurts,” she begged. Making all of Harry’s fears about hitting her head come right back. “I think it’s going to explode,” she explained.

“What’s going t’explode, m’love?”

“My head.”

His heart took off three times as fast. “Bird, did the door hit your head?”

“No, my foot,” she muttered. She was taking him on a roller coaster, and the highs and lows were so jarring he wanted to cry. He glanced at her feet, but she was wearing tights so he couldn’t see anything. “M’head hurts,” she repeated. “I think it’s gonna explode.”

“Kitten,” he frowned. “What happened?”

“M’sick.”

“Why did y’go t’work, Bird?” He whispered and gently scooped her up, one shoe and all. She moaned and tucked her face into his chest.

“No fever.”

“Kitten,” he tisked. “Jus’ because y’don’t have a fever doesn’t mean—”

“Shh…” she sighed. “Please,” her voice cracked, “it hurts so much, and m’so close to crying and then it’ll hurt worse,” she begged, hardly more than a whisper escaped her.

Harry pressed his lips together, brought her to her room and laid her on top of the covers. He kissed the center of her forehead. Wrapping her up in so many blankets she had in the basket from when her room was an icebox. She coughed something fierce, making Harry nearly want to cry for her. She moaned and fell back against her pillow and then was so silent Harry would have seriously worried for a second that she had died if he hadn’t been able to hear her quiet snore through her stuffy nose.

After assuring himself she was alive, he went to her kitchen. His eyes scanned briefly looking for something to help him help her. All the spices were all lined neatly in a shallow little tray—like one you would use to carry items on the patio in the summer. Harry quickly removed them all, leaving them on the counter and searched through her drawers and cabinets looking for things that she would need.

Medicine—cold, flu, anti-inflammatory, pain relievers, cough drops. All of it went on the tray. Next, he grabbed one of her water cups filled in the fridge and placed it with the medicine. Had she eaten? He had no idea, but that would have to wait. He would have to order soup from somewhere nearby. Mum swore by chicken noodle. It was medicinal in its own way. He returned to find her still sound asleep.

It was going to kill him to wake her. But his chest hurt knowing she was unwell. “Baby,” he whispered softly. Almost too softly as he set the tray on her dresser. He grabbed a handful of drugs and her water cup and approached her. “Bird, m’love,” he cooed and gently stroked her face again.

“No,” she whimpered. “No, it hurts,” she didn’t open her eyes, but her lashes developed tiny little crystals, breaking his heart as she sniffled.

“No, baby, don’t cry,” he begged stroking her face as lightly as he could. “I have t’give you medicine. Then you go right back t’sleep, I promise, kitten. M’sorry baby. I’m so sorry.”

She cried anyway. Nonetheless, she did as he asked. Harry placed pills at her lips, and she swallowed her medicine, drank three huge gulps of water, all with her eyes closed. Harry put everything on the tray, climbed into her bed, sitting up against the headboard and brought her head down to his lap. Her cries subsided after a few minutes all while Harry hushed her and as carefully as he could massaged her scalp with his fingertips. When the sniffles and tears finally stopped, Harry felt more relieved than when he realized she wasn’t ignoring him, just simply too sick to move.

While she slept, Harry ordered soup from his phone and continued her head massage for a while. When there was a knock on the door for the soup delivery (seven different soups, two chicken noodle, but other options just in case), Harry slowly removed himself from her bed.

He put all the soup on the counter and headed back to her room. He slowly pulled the covers away from her, whatever the cold medicine he gave her was enough to make her boneless. Her body was hard to move but he would do it slowly and carefully to make her feel better.

Even sick, she was adorable. So cute and pretty Harry almost smiled. She wore a plaid dress with large buttons down the center. A shirt below it since the straps were thin and the neckline was low. Slowly he unbuttoned each one and coaxed her sleeping figure out of her outfit. He removed her remaining shoe, then tore the tights off her legs. He made a mental note to buy her another pair. He couldn’t imagine anything more constricting than the elastic digging into her skin when she wasn’t feeling well. His eyes checked her foot, nothing more than a scrape—not too serious of an injury, thankfully.

In just her underwear, he reached beneath her and unhooked her bra, and he swore she sighed with relief as he removed it from her body. He noted a sweatshirt at the end of her bed. He hadn’t seen it before since his focus was on wrapping her in blankets and nothing else. He grabbed it, slid it over her head and she once more sighed, nuzzling into the collar like she was awake. His heart throbbed painfully in his chest as the Under Construction logo stared back at him. When had she taken this? Not that he cared. Did she sleep in it when he wasn’t around? God, she was cute.

“Harry,” she murmured.

Her sweet, adorable self was going to kill him. He practically groaned hearing her sleep-talk about him. Gently he kissed her forehead, wrapped her back up in her blankets, and left the room once more.

The bathroom looked like a crime scene. The shower curtain was half off the rod, some of the plastic rings were broken. Like she crawled to turn the water on and grabbed the curtain to help herself up. His heart clenched at the thought. He propped the vanity cabinet door against the wall. He’d fix that another day when the sound of his drill wouldn’t hurt her aching head. Then he grabbed her other shoe. She even brought her work bag in with her, which was open and spilling onto the floor as well. Some of the papers inside curled from the steam she made from turning the shower on too hot. Good thing she didn’t get in, she would have burned herself.

Everything alright? Louis texted.

She’s real sick. I just gave her some medicine and put her to bed.

Good. She loves to watch Disney movies when she’s sick. Loves ginger ale. Even if it’s not a stomach thing. Swears it soothes her throat. Harry went to the fridge and grabbed a can of soda as well.

Good to know. I’ll put some on. Her head was killing her.

She gets migraines when she’s run down. Harry swore to himself and sighed. He should have known.

Shit. Thanks. I’ll… keep you posted.

Harry returned to her room, she was still asleep, soundly. He felt relieved. He placed her bag by the door and crawled back onto the bed beside her. He continued his scalp massage and eventually, he found himself asleep too.

*

She missed her un-insulated room. It was much too hot, and she thought she was going to combust. She moaned quietly, her head still aching, though she could at least move without fear of passing out or throwing up or both.

Her skin still hurt, and her body ached all over. How did she not have a fever?

“Hey pretty bird,” his voice was low and rumbly in her ear. Good God, did he sound good for her tired body. “Y’awake?” He asked.

She blinked, her head still felt balloon like and not quite attached to her neck as she turned to look up at Harry gazing down at her in the near dark. Everything had a blurry dark gray-blue tint. Like it was about to downpour. “Hmm…” she hummed. Her forehead pounded. She thought her brain was trying to escape. “Harry?” She questioned. She didn’t remember seeing him after school. How did she get home? How did she get in her bed? Was she naked? How did that happen?

There were too many questions and not enough brain power to answer them all.

“Hi baby,” he whispered. Her head might have hurt, and she was sweating beneath the blankets and her Amazonian-like room, but her stomach was working just fine and somersaulted over the softness of Harry calling her baby when she didn’t feel good.

She spent six hours a day, five days a week caring for little ones. Ensuring they were happy, healthy, and learning. She spent an undoubtedly high number thinking about them seven days a week. Since moving out of her parents’ home at eighteen, no one had cared for her or been so gentle with her (especially not Evan) when she was sick since she was young. Not even herself. She tried to push herself up, but Harry gently pushed her back down. “Hey, no, no,” he cooed softly. “Jus’ stay still, yeah?” He asked. “Jus’ rest,” he ordered.

“What…?” She swallowed, the feeling in her throat was dry, sore, painful. She cleared her throat which felt like knives.

“Here,” he slithered lower in her bed and brought the straw of her cup to her lips. The water tasted like chocolate. Not actual chocolate, but the idea of having chocolate prior to getting your period and it tasted so good she wished she could swim in it. He rubbed his thumb on her temple while she sipped, easing the tension she felt in her eyebrows trying to pinch her forehead in the middle. “How are y’feeling, kitten?” His breath was cool and minty. Did he ever smell bad? Probably not. She remembered every unseasonably warm day in October that Harry never smelled gross despite working in the hot sun. What an unfair glitch. She probably smelled like sweat right then. And a cough. Whatever that smelled like. “Y’scared me,” he admitted. “Not quite falling off your roof, but close. Y’do this t’all your boyfriends?” There was a smile in his voice. “S’this a test of some kind?” She snorted and then winced. “Sorry,” he kissed her forehead. “No jokes.”

“Did you undress me?” Was that really the most pressing question she needed answered?

A wave of guilt washed over Harry. He felt his face warm with embarrassment. He was so focused on making her feel better, he hadn’t considered that she wouldn’t want him undressing her unconscious body. “Yes, m’sorry. I jus’ wanted you t’be comfortable,” he frowned. “Did I mess up?” He asked. “M’sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“No, no,” she said softly and squeezed his hip where her hand rested. She could hear the guilt in his voice and no, she decided, it wasn’t the most pressing question to ask him. She shouldn’t have bothered.  Harry had seen her naked countless times in the last six months. That wasn’t something he should have felt guilty over. “Mi body es su body,” she joked lamely. “I’m sweating,” she said softly and pushed the blankets away from her. Harry helped unravel her from her cocoon. Harry reached across her to grab the remote control to the fan that she normally had blowing on her, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to turn on when she was shivering earlier. He could see her physically deflate once the cool air spilled over her. “I thought I tried showering,” she cleared her throat again. It hurt less since there was water coating her esophagus, but it still ached quite a bit.

“You did,” his frown was still etched on his pretty lips. “Baby, y’scared me so much,” he was so close to her face. “Y’didn’t tell me y’weren’t feeling well. Didn’t answer,” he pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“You’re gonna get sick,” she whispered.

“Then I get sick,” he shrugged. But he was pretty confident in his immune system. Even if he was doing manual labor, she worked about two to three times harder than him. Probably more rundown than he was in comparison. “Why didn’t’ y’tell me?” He asked.

She turned her head to cough, and he continued stroking her hair. “I don’t really think straight when I’m sick,” she explained. “I use every spare bit of energy to focus on the kids at school.”

He was downright pouting in the shadowy dark she could barely see him in. “Y’shouldn’t have gone t’work.”

“You don’t know how much more work it is to make sub plans.”

“I would have made them for you,” he assured her. Her chest ached with love for him so hard it felt like a rib was going to crack. “Would have gone in t’teach them even.”

She smiled and willed her tired, overrun body not to cry at his thoughtfulness. “Thank you,” she whispered. “That’s so sweet to offer.”

“You can’t go t’work tomorrow.”

“I feel so much better… what time is it?”

“S’late. I got y’soup. Are y’hungry?”

She sat up slowly, put one hand to her temple and slid out of bed. “I probably need to eat. I skipped lunch in favor of not dying and napping instead.”

“Miss Bird,” Harry frowned and walked her down the hall to her kitchen. She didn’t turn on any lights and she looked at the six cartons of soup on her counter.

“You got me a lot of soup,” she murmured and squinted to read the labels in the semi dark. The low glow of the clock on her stove said it was a little after nine. She sighed. Tomorrow would be better, right? This was the worst of it. Harry opened a soda can, and she turned to see him offer the ginger ale to her. She stared at him in disbelief. “Did you text Louis?”

“Bird, I was scared. I thought I did something wrong or worse y’were hurt,” she was a little too in love with the thought that was the order of severity for him.

“That’s very sweet,” she sipped the cold soda, the bubbles soothing the ache in her throat the way the water had but it was still sweeter and better even though it made no sense.

“What kind of soup do y’want?” He asked.

“Whatever will make me better to deal with six-year-olds by six AM.”

“Y’cannot be serious,” he shook his head and put two pints of soup into the microwave.

“It’s too late for sub plans. If I try to look at a computer right now, I’m sure I’ll have an aneurysm.”

“Kitten. S’not a good idea. You’ll be sick and tired. The kids will—”

“I’ve done this before, I know what I’m doing!” She protested. “I promise.”

“Jus’ because you’ve done it before means y’should. Nor do I agree with you.”

She nodded. She noted that Harry stopped the microwave before it beeped and opened the door as quietly as possible. He poured the soup into bowls and was cautious not to let the spoons clink against the glass. Her heart swam in the warmth of love that crushed her. Harry saw more of her and cared for her more in the last six months (even in the last six hours) than anyone ever had. “I need to shower,” she said while she welcomed the burns that she was giving her tongue and the inside of her mouth as she ate her soup. It felt soothing in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

Harry took the soup away from her and brought it to the small table she had between her kitchen and living room. He came back and tugged her to the chair in front of her bowl. He ate across from her. In the dark. Only the light from the streetlight barely filtering past her blinds.

“Can I stay in the bathroom while y’do?” He asked referring to her statement on showering.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“M’not sure y’understand how nervous y’made me. I’ll leave after that,” he promised.

I don’t want you to leave. It would have been so easy to say. Harry was so comforting, and he felt so good to sleep next to. It seemed she had been asleep for at least five hours, and she wanted nothing more than to stay snuggled next to him. But he had to work tomorrow, and he needed to be awake at four. “Okay,” she sighed. “It’s really not necessary,” she repeated.

“Mmm,” he hummed.

*

Harry made her blow dry her hair, it was loud and made her head throb, but he refused to let her go to bed with wet hair. “You’ll get an ear infection or something,” he insisted. Which sounded like an old wives’ tale, but his thoughtfulness was too much. He gave her another round of medicine and kissed her forehead once he had her comforter tucked around her in bed. “Good night, Miss Bird,” he said softly. “Please consider not going t’work tomorrow,” he repeated.

“Okay,” she whispered softly.

She felt sleepy, warm, cared for, and comforted. She wished she could open her mouth to ask Harry to stay. It felt sad to see him go. Overwhelmed by how bad she was feeling. She knew he would stay. But it wasn’t fair. He hadn’t showered the day off him, and he would be up in a little under six hours by the time he’d get settled in bed in his own house. “S’matter?” He asked.

“Nothing,” she shook her head. “Just don’t feel good,” she sniffed and tried, tried so hard to push her emotions down so she wouldn’t cry. If she cried, Harry would worry. He would stay and the poor thing probably wanted to go home and sleep in his own bed just as much as she wanted to sleep without pain.

“Hey,” he cooed. “Baby,” and she was done for. Tears spilled over before she could stop them. The dim light from the hall catching those little water crystals like diamonds in the sun. How on earth this beautiful girl made crying look so pretty had to be one of the greatest paradoxes in the world. “No baby, don’t cry,” he swiped the tears away.

“I know you want to go home, but I don’t want you to,” she sniveled.

His heart broke. She was a beautiful grown woman and he loved her so much. She was adorable, just his sweatshirt around her pretty, sick body. Even though Harry had spent hours taking care of her, she still felt like she had to take care of him. “Kitten, I don’t want t’leave you at all. I never want t’leave you, why would y’think that?”

She felt so ridiculous. Sad, tired, sick, run down, exhausted. “Because it’s late and you have to get up early and you haven’t showered and I’m so gross and so much work and it’s—”

“Bird, m’love, shh,” he hushed her ranting and shifted himself on the bed and combed her hair. “Y’can always ask me t’stay,” he whispered. “Shh,” he whispered, shifting her to lay against his chest. He rocked her gently. “M’gonna let y’fall asleep. Then I’ll shower and come right back, yeah?” He offered. “I don’t have t’go anywhere,” he promised.

“Okay,” she sniffled. “I’m sor—”

“Shh,” he kissed the top of her head. “I love you, bird. Go to sleep.”

“I love you too,” she croaked.

“Good, now sleep, baby,” he murmured.

So she had no choice but to listen.

*

Harry’s alarm went off at four. She moaned quietly against his chest. He kissed the top of her head like he’d been awake the whole time waiting to wake her up gently. “M’gonna go home, baby,” that name warmed her. It felt like the medicine he gave her. “S’that okay? I can come back. S’not far. I’ll be quick.” It nearly broke his heart to hear how sad she was last night. He was going to address their living situation as soon as she felt better. This felt like he was going to war and not five minutes around the corner. He could sense her thinking it over in that pretty brain of hers. It spun over in her mind, and she wanted nothing more than to ask but he knew she wouldn’t.

Even in the dark he could see it. “No, that’s alright,” she murmured very softly.

He was already planning on coming back. He shouldn’t have bothered to ask. “Okay, go back t’sleep, bird. I’ll check on you at recess,” he assured her. “How do y’feel?”

“Better.”

It was a little bit of the truth mixed with some untruth. Her head still throbbed, her throat still hurt. But it was better than yesterday. She knew she wasn’t going to have a fever. After a few more mumbled words to Harry, she was only half certain she remembered to say, “I love you,” and only vaguely aware that her front door closed before she was asleep again.

When her alarm went off at six, (what felt like five minutes later from Harry’s departure), she wasn’t the one to turn it off. She groaned softly, turning to find Harry settling her phone back on her nightstand. She frowned immediately, her eyes watering. “You came back,” she whispered keeping up with the thought of Harry going to off to war and not just to his house.

He chuckled quietly, kissed her forehead again. “I couldn’t leave you, kitten. Not when y’feel so poorly, Bird,” he answered. She wondered if she could permanently fix his fingers to her hair and scalp. He smelled so good, again. He showered again and was wearing cologne. Everything about his presence was like a warm hug, physical medicine that would have fixed her up if he wasn’t giving her actual medicine.

“But what about work?”

“I can be late. They know what they’re doing.”

 “I love you, so much.”

He chuckled. “I love you, too, baby.”

“I think I should sleep another hour.”

He nestled further into the pillows, wrapping her close to him, and he kissed her again. “Whatever y’want, kitten.”

*

Harry was insistent on driving in together. He gave her another round of medicine. Got her bag organized, her lunch packed. Hoping it would get her more time to rest while he did those things. He drove her car, parked in her unassigned but assigned parking space. He gave her a kiss on the cheek and headed to the job site promising once more he would check on her at recess.

Other than completely, totally sweet, she thought nothing more of his kindness. There wasn’t enough time to think about it. There was morning work to deal with, attendance to submit, lunch counts, and all the other parts of her morning routine to take care of while her head felt like someone was hammering the inside of her skull repeatedly. By the time the kids had settled onto the carpet, she wasn’t thinking about Harry (as much as she wanted to). Her head hurt and her kids were needy.

So, she did a true double take while Mae was reading the date and schedule for the day to the rest of the class when the door to her classroom opened. Her jaw dropped and many of her students’ eyes followed her gaze.

“Mr. Harry!” Hadley shouted.

Any of the students that hadn’t turned to him all turned to the door at that moment. There was visitor sticker on his chest. He was wearing regular clothes. A long-sleeved shirt, a pair of jeans, and trainers instead of work boots.

The excitement unfolded quickly. Her minor wince made his heart ache for her. It was his fault; he caused the excitement. “Hey, hey, hocus pocus,” he called gently.

“Everybody focus!”

She now understood why Harry found that so attractive when she did that. That was one of the hottest things she’d ever seen him do. (And he did this thing with his tongue that was truly mind-blowing.) She coughed into her elbow and shook her head. “Mr. Harry… We weren’t expecting you,” she said quietly.

He smiled. “I was thinking I haven’t been t’school in a long time and I wanted t’do some learning. Do we have an extra spot for me today?”

The group cheered while she sneezed into her tissue. She wiped her nose daintily, dropped it into the small trash can he had no doubt was filled with tissues already and knew the can was following her around the classroom.

“Miss Bee is sick,” Brayden explained.

Her cheeks turned pink which was great because she needed a bit of color for Harry to allow her to stay and not drag her out the room and back home. She used hand sanitizer attached to her lanyard. “Is she?” He frowned. He thought of the sweet girl crying into his shirt as she fell asleep last night. She looked so normal right now. Pretending. Hiding. Showing up for her students because she loved them beyond her own well-being.

Well, two could play at that game.

“You don’t have to work?” She asked suspiciously.

“Nope,” he said simply. “School’s more important.”

She rolled her lips into her mouth and hid her cough in her elbow again. Harry winked at her and took a seat on her carpet. Janie giggled as his big body overflowed the square he picked. He gave Janie a high five and she was pretty certain one over her ovaries was popping. Everyone was still kind of giggly over his presence. “Think we gotta let Mae continue, yeah?”

Her heart simply burst.

*

During reading time, Harry read a chapter of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory for her. Like he read to the group every day. Harry asked questions. Good questions. Prompted them to think, ask their own questions, make predictions. How could she possibly love him more? He walked around to her groups when she was too tired to check on them. When she coughed too hard, he brought her water cup across the room. He made sure she ate lunch, walked around the perimeter of the playground (stopping at the fence to get a hot cup of tea from Niall to soothe her throat).

When the kids went to specials, she stared at Harry. “You can’t skip work every time I’m sick.”

He simply smiled, continued helping her clean, and organized while they were gone. “Watch me, baby.”

Her cheeks burned.

But truth be told he was exhausted. More exhausted than he thought. She did this every day? Teachers should be paid triple. Double that amount in March. In like a lion out like a lamb was wrong. In like a lion out like a tornado was more like it.

Harry would need a counter next time. She must have repeated directions eight times in the span of a minute. Settling student disputes and sending an email at the same time was a choreographed dance. She punched the straw through three juice boxes while reading the slide off the SmartBoard at the same time. All while feeling like death warmed over.

He knew she was a superhero. He didn’t need proof. But it was something else to watch up close.

“What?” She sniffled. Not once did she complain about her head, the cough, her sneeze. “Do I have snot on my face? I’m gonna crawl in a hole and—”

“You are incredible Miss Bird. Everyone in the world should have t’go t’school for a day. But everyone should have to try a day in your classroom.”

She smiled weakly. “Some days are easier than others.”

“Did I make today easier?”

She nodded. “Yes. So much so. That was….” She shook her head. “Thank you. I needed that.”

He smiled. “Good.”

*

She skipped family dinner. She was sick and wanted to lounge in bed. She was going to be behind in life, work, and at home for a week. But it was the best she could do.

She ate one of the soups Harry left for dinner. Then he came around at six PM. “Hey, pretty bird, did y’nap?”

God, she loved him. She loved him so much it seemed insane that she did anything but say it. There should be no work. No jobs. She should just be required to say “Harry I love you” twenty-four hours a day, three-hundred and sixty-five days a year.

“And had soup,” she murmured into his shirt. He smelled so good. There was a bag over his shoulder.

“Good girl,” he scooped her up behind her thighs, wrapped them around his hips and carried her to her bedroom. He deposited her gently on the bed and then dropped his bag.

“Are you staying?” There was a lot of hope in her voice.

“M-hmm,” he stripped instantly making her heart flutter. He pulled a pair of sweat from his bag and over his legs followed by a T-shirt. “Ratatouille sound good?”

“Louis is a tattletale,” she stated.

He kissed the top of her head and headed to the kitchen to get his own pint of soup. “S’not tattling if we have a safety concern, kitten.”

*

The next day, her brain didn’t feel quite as balloon-like. The cough and sneezing had subsided enough to a manageable level.

But she swore all of it came roaring back when Evan appeared at the end of the day. Like a contagion in his own right. Harry’s gaze was ever-present and warm on the side of her face. Hot, really. She could feel it intensely—more so than the other days. “Milo buddy, watch your shoes.”

She imagined hitting him with one of Milo’s shoes repeatedly. Fortunately, the little one didn’t notice her need for bodily harm.

“Uncle Ev, Miss Bee’s boyfriend came to school yesterday.”

Her heart stopped and she choked on her own spit followed by a massive coughing fit. Evan stared at her with disdain, as did Milo (with curiosity however). She had a hand on her throat, surprised by Milo’s confession. If Evan was bothered by her relationship status, there was no outward expression to indicate it.

“Y’okay, Miss Bee?” Oh Lord.

Harry was suddenly there looking at her like she had a bone protruding. He pulled a water bottle from behind his back. His back pocket?

“Hi Mr. Harry!” Milo bloomed.

“Hey lad, how was kindergarten today? How’s our latest book?” He asked, squeezing his shoulder while avoiding touching Evan.

“I can read Green Eggs and Ham all by myself!”

“S’awesome, lad,” he held his hand out for a high five all while Evan stared in disbelief and she sipped from the bottle.

“Harry helpeded me how to sound out words I don’t know like Miss Bee,” Milo explained.

“Helped, my love,” she said very gently.

He grinned at both Milo and her. Harry hardly looked at Evan. But his eyes couldn’t leave Harry alone. She couldn’t blame him—he was incredible. “I’m sorry. We haven’t met, are you a teachers aid?” He said it condescendingly.

“I wish,” Harry snorted. “Harry Styles. I’m the foreman on the jobsite next door,” he held his hand out for Evan to shake.

“I’m going to work for him when I’m older,” Milo told his uncle.

Could she adopt him? The look of shock on Evan’s face made her want to take a picture.

“Maybe by then I’ll be working for you, lad,” Harry winked.

Could she marry Harry? They’d be a cute little family.

“I’m sorry. I’m lost.”

“Mr. Harry plays with us sometimes,” Milo shrugged casually. Like it was obvious and normal. “Sometimes he volunteers in Miss Bee’s room and fixes everything, Uncle Ev. He knows how to fix everything. He fixed Miss Bee’s desk, her bookshelf, her closet. Maybe he could fix the hole in your wall at home for you!”

Adopt, adopt, adopt, adopt. She bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing. Harry chuckled quietly. “I’d be happy t’look at it,” he popped one shoulder up knowing full and well that Evan would never ask Harry for help with home improvements.

“Hmm. Right. Well. Do you have any qualifications teaching?”

“No, but I got a niece m’awfully fond of myself,” he said proudly. “And Miss Bee is a pretty good teacher to show me some of the ropes.”

“Mr. Harry is like Miss Bee. He’s in charge of his crew on the site. It’s so cool Uncle Evan.”

She wondered if he would explode. Harry paid no attention to the praise. “Just came t’check on you,” he put a hand on her lower back briefly. “Y’need help today?” He asked. “I’ll meet y’down in your room. Nice meeting you, Evan. Milo, lad, see you later alligator?”

“In a while crocodile!”

The silence that ensued was deafening. “You have a boyfriend that volunteers in your classroom?” He asked. The distaste in his voice was enough to make her skin crawl but she nodded.

“Yes,” she said softly.

“Is that legal?”

She wanted to scream. “Perfectly. He’s got a background check on file, and he doesn’t volunteer the whole day. Yesterday was the first day. I can assure you, he’s a great volunteer, just like any other parent volunteer I’ve had in the past,” it wasn’t unusual for parents to offer volunteer services. Not to the degree Harry was offering them but that probably was the perk of dating him. “The kids like him and his partner, Niall. They say hi to them at recess.”

Evan stared at her. “He spends all that time in your classroom and helping you out for a measly five minutes of a relationship per day?”

She straightened her back, inhaled as best she could through her stuffy nose, and turned her attention to Milo. “I’ll see you tomorrow, my love, alright?” She grinned sweetly. “Evan,” she muttered and headed back inside.

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READ PART ONE: CASA AMOR READ PART TWO: CRASH OUT

TONIGHT ON LOVE ISLAND...

PART THREE | TRUTH OR DARE || a harry styles x you fic. word count: 8,866 content warning: tension & arguments & love island antics

summary: the islander's partake in the game 'truth or dare' which elicits some unfinished business between you and harry... and maybe sparks a few other interests.

author’s note: the attention that this story has gotten... thank you for guys for being so excited to read what happens next <3 it's seriously so fun & I hope you have as much fun continuing to read it! this one is about twice the length as the other two! all the notes, all the messages about it have been so fun to read and react with you, so please continue to send me suggestions and what you'd like see <3

hope you guys enjoy <3

A REMINDER OF THE COUPLINGS...

You are Single | Luca is Single | Megan is Single | Tash and Harry | Ella and Johnny | Megan and Ronan | Tiana and Liam | Jess and Mitch

“Rise and shine, Islanders!” You hear from Tiana on her side of the room.

You push your eye mask up just a bit to reveal everyone starting to arise and awaken for the day. The sun had only just begun to slide through the windows of the bedroom.

The girls began to stir slowly, tangled in duvet covers and last night’s whispers. There was a collective murmur of breathy yawns and bodies stretching under thin sheets. You turned onto your side instinctively, expecting warmth; it was a space where someone used to be, and had been for the better part of the last few weeks.

But there was no one next to you now. You were still alone.

Across the room, Tash sat upright in bed, her hair in blonde braided pigtails, her eyes already open but maybe you can see they’re a bit puffy from either lack of sleep or something else. She didn’t say much but just swung her legs off the side and sat there for a moment, contemplating as she started staring at the floor.

The others slowly came to life around her; Ella mumbling something about needing caffeine, Megan humming absently to herself as she padded barefoot across the room. There was no giddy giggling this morning like there had been previously; there was a certain shift around here now. Just the sound of people existing in the strange, weighty quiet that follows a long, emotional few days.

And somewhere, on the other side of the villa, Harry was waking up in the Hideaway. Not with Tash, not with you. Just him and the weight of his choices, staring up at the ceiling fan. He stretched his arms above his head as he laid there for a moment on his own.

He hadn’t slept much. The bed was too soft without conversation and the feeling of a cuddle against him. The walls felt too quiet when they weren’t filled with your laughter. He rubbed a hand across his jaw, knowing he’d earned the isolation — and not knowing what, if anything, he was supposed to do next.

A little while later, the smell of eggs and toasted sourdough drifted through the villa as the boys took over the kitchen with their shirtless bodies and sunglasses resting over tired eyes. Mitch had tied a tea towel around his head like a makeshift bandana, humming while he burned half the bacon which only made Johnny laugh. Luca was more precise — plating avocado slices like he was on Master Chef, and sneaking glances toward the hallway that led to the dressing room.

Harry stood at the espresso machine, pressing buttons with purpose, like maybe he could steam out the tension in his chest with milk froth and timing.

“Double shot, oat milk,” he muttered to himself.

He poured two cups— carefully, quietly and without any acknowledgement from the other boys.

Inside the dressing room, the girls had taken up their usual spots, hairbrushes in hand, bronzer palettes out, eyes still a little puffy from sleep as they started to place sunscreen and lip gloss. You were seated at your vanity, lips slightly parted as you curled your lashes. Tash was two spots down, brushing through her hair in slow, even strokes, as if control over the tangles meant control over something else too.

Ella was halfway through a winged liner when the door opened. Harry stepped in, coffee cups in hand.

The ease of the morning girl conversation faltered when lingering eyes watched as he held two.

“Morning,” he said, voice smooth but cautious. “Figured you might want one.”

He handed you a cup first — oat milk, the way that you always wanted it. Then extended the second to Tash, whose eyes flicked up to him and lingered for just a second longer than necessary before she reached for it.

“Thanks,” you said, placing it on the vanity in front of you.

He nodded, eyes searching yours for something he couldn’t quite name. Harry made his way out of the dressing room quietly, without much more conversation. But before anyone could comment or fill the space with a joke — Luca walked in behind him, grinning, holding another cup.

“Oi, Y/N — told you I’d get yours right,” he said proudly. “One sugar, just how you like it.”

You blinked, surprised, accepting the second cup with a laugh that you didn’t expect to bubble up.

“Two coffees?” Ella whispered beside you with a smile and a giggle to match. “She’s got them fighting in beans and steamed milk.”

You set one coffee down, still unsure which to drink from first. You hadn’t expected that there would be a moment like this where you had two boys fighting for your attention; you knew how one looked. Harry brought coffee for both girls, but now you had coffee from two boys. You took in a breath as you looked at the girls around you and raised your brows.

“Get it, girl,” Tiana giggled across from you, as she painted on a few freckles.

Tash took a sip of her coffee with a quietness, obviously not impressed that she wasn’t the only one who received the cup, but it seemed to hold implications on either side.

“Dammit, Harry,” you mumbled out, shaking your head.

Ella leaned closer with a wide, knowing smirk as she gave you an eye. “So… which one are you drinking first?”

You bit back a smile, eyes flicking between the cups. “One was made with care. The other with guilt.”

“Ohhh!” Jess gasped, spitting out a laugh, “He really is double-dipping.”

Tash let out a quiet huff of amusement but didn’t look over. She was busy applying lip liner — and pretending she didn’t care. But of course, she cared; she didn’t want to be between them, either. She wanted to explore connections with Harry, but not if it was going to be at the cost of her dignity.

“Let me get this straight,” Megan said, leaning on her elbows. “Harry brings you a coffee… and then Luca walks in and does the same? Back-to-back baristas?”

“It’s giving Y/N is the main character,” Tiana added, twirling her brush. “It’s giving she’s got options.”

You shook your head, laughing despite the twist in your stomach. “I didn’t ask for either. They just—did it.”

“Exactly,” Ella said, pointing at you through her brow pencil. “You didn’t ask. Which means they’re chasing. Which means…”

“You’ve got both of them in a milk steamer,” Jess finished, tongue-in-cheek with her Scouse accent that made you smile every time she spoke. “Extra froth going on, girl.”

The girls started laughing at that comment, even Tash cracked a smile at that one. You stared into one of the cups, then glanced at the other. Luca’s had a smiley face drawn on the lid in Sharpie.

You didn’t say much after that. But your silence said enough.

Down in the main villa, the boys were in various states of gym effort: some actually working out, some just lounging in joggers with towels over their shoulders pretending they might start.

Harry was lifting dumbbells like his life depended on it, trying to stay focused, but mostly failing when he let his mind wander. His thoughts kept drifting — to the coffee, to your expression, to the way your fingers curled around the cup when he handed it to you.

Then Mitch wandered in over to him, towel draped over his neck, taking a sip from his water bottle.

“You see Luca this morning?” he asked casually, flopping down on a bench near Harry.

Harry didn’t look up at him, shaking his head when he placed the thirty-pound weights down. “What about him?”

“He was buzzing, mate,” Mitch looked over to see Luca by the pool with Ronan, casually having a conversation, but Mitch tried to keep his quiet, “Said he made Y/N a coffee and brought it up to her.”

Harry paused, looking over at Mitch with a completely confused expression, almost like he hadn’t completely understood what he had said—or thought that it made sense.

Luca and Y/N?

“What?”

Mitch leaned back, unfazed by it. “Yeah, said he got in there. Drew a little smiley face on the lid and everything. Bit cheeky, actually—sounds like he’s moving in on that, then.”

Harry’s jaw shifted, tongue pressing into the inside of his cheek. He didn’t say anything for a long second before he shrugged and placed his sunglasses over his eyes and on the bridge of his nose.

“Fair enough,” he muttered finally, reaching for his towel and tossing it over his shoulder, wiping some of the sweat from the back of his neck. But then the way he grabbed his water bottle with a little more force than necessary didn’t go unnoticed.

Mitch raised a brow, smirking at his annoyance. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied quickly. “It’s fair game, innit?”

“Right,” Mitch drawled, licking his tongue over his bottom lip as he stared at Harry for a moment. “Course. All’s fair in love and war or whatever.”

But Harry wasn’t really listening anymore. He was already replaying the image in his head: Luca, smiling, handing you coffee with that stupid Sharpie face that probably made your heart flutter. You laugh, you sip it, you choose it over his.

Maybe choosing him over him. He let out a long, slow breath and stood, making his way back to the bedrooms to get himself dressed and showered for the day.

The midday sun was relentless over the villa, bronzing bare shoulders and soaking into the terracotta tiles that circled the pool. A few of the boys lingered by the make-shift gym, shirtless and smug as they just want the ladies to give them a second look, attempting half-hearted workouts between bursts of banter.

You were stretched out on a beanbag near the lawn, sunglasses perched on your nose, the edge of your thigh sticking to the vinyl under you. Ella sat beside you, her legs swinging gently as she watched Mitch try to pull himself up on the bars — and fail spectacularly.

“Bless him,” she muttered. “That bar’s got more fight in it than he does.”

You huffed a laugh, only half-listening, your attention flicking, despite every reason to not look, across the pool, to where Harry stood. His curls were messily pushed back into a backwards hat, his skin kissed golden, and he was laughing at something Mitch said with his arms crossed, shoulders flexing with the movement.

He looked good—which, of course, only made it worse.

PING, PING.

Tiana nearly dropped her sunglasses scrambling for it, “I got a text!”

She swiped up, squinting at the screen, then read aloud with a grin in her voice, “Islanders, it’s time for a friendly game of Truth or Dare! Gather at the lawn and get ready to spill… or snog. #NoSecretsNoMercy #MakeItHot”

Jess immediately groaned into her palms. “This is going to end with someone crying or kissing the wrong person.”

“Or both,” Ella added brightly, standing and smoothing down her bikini bottoms.

You pushed up to stand, smoothing your own top with steady hands. You could feel it creeping in — that dull twist of dread in your belly that held fear and anticipation. These challenges always rubbed salt into the wounds, so you hoped that you could at least stand through it.

Harry was still across the way. He had been giving you a glance, gaze catching yours. You didn’t look back.

The Islanders gathered on the lawn, sitting cross-legged in a loose circle around a crate filled with rolled-up dares. Everyone was in swimwear, glistening with SPF and tension so high on their shoulders that it felt like the weight of the world. On the surface, it was all grins and sun and bare skin as they prepared for the game to start.

Mitch, of course, stood up to go first while the rest of the Islanders clapped around him. He reached in dramatically and read it out loud with an exaggerated gasp.

“Dare — give a lap dance to the Islander you think is most your type.”

“Oh God,” Jess muttered, already dreading what was coming. She placed a hand over her face to keep the blush off of it.

Mitch grinned, turned to her like it wasn’t obvious. “Well, she already knows it’s her.”

Then he dropped into a squirming, floppy attempt at a lap dance, humping the air while Jess screamed laughing and swatted at him. The circle erupted into chaotic laughter and dramatic sound effects of barking and whooping.

“I swear,” Jess muttered, wiping tears from her eyes, “if I wanted to see trauma in real time, I’d rewatch Movie Night.”

Next was Tiana, standing up to stand in front of everyone. She plucked a scroll and arched a brow as she took in a deep breath.

“Truth — which couple do you think won’t last on the outside?”

The noise simmered as everyone leaned in, Harry’s nose scrunched at the question before he bit the inside of his cheek.

She chewed the inside of her cheek for a second as she thought and hummed. “I’ll say Harry and Tash. No shade, really. Just… not feeling it.”

Jess and you look at one another as the boys give a slight groan; Tash gives a look of defeat, shrugging.

“Can I ask what you’re not feeling?” She asks Tiana quickly before catching her off guard.

Tiana licks over her lips, “Don’t know—guess it just feels more physical, and don’t think that will translate outside the villa.”

There’s a bit of tension before Tiana sits back in her space with a few people clapping at her wrapping up, and Tash turns to Megan, “She doesn’t even know what kind of conversations we’ve had.”

“Girl, it’s just a game, yeah?” Tiana leans over with a bit of defensiveness in her words, “Don’t need to be worried about it.”

Instead of allowing the bit argument to continue, it was Harry’s turn to stand up as he wiped his palms on his swim trunks.

You felt the air change around you, hugging your knees to your chest as you squint in the sun. You didn’t look at him, but your body was suddenly very aware of his presence — of the way the game could turn, any second, into something personal. He reached into the crate and pulled a scroll, unraveling it.

“Dare — kiss the Islander you think you have the most unfinished business with.”

The entire group fell quiet; you could tell there was a bit of animosity. You kept your face neutral — lips slack, shoulders relaxed, as you bit the inside of your lip, but your heartbeat had gone tight and fast under your ribs. Your lungs would be bruised from the pace of it.

His barefoot steps were soft in the grass before he let himself move towards you. You didn’t look up until he stopped in front of you. When you did, he was already leaning down and into you.

The kiss landed gently on you, a warm hand cupping your cheek, his lips brushing against yours in a way that was neither showy nor smug. It wasn’t for the crowd, it wasn’t performative. It held a tenderness that you had forgotten about, but you welcomed it without any protest. He meant it, and that somehow made it feel worse.

You didn’t kiss back, not really, but you didn’t pull away either. And when he stepped back, your lips still tingled with the ghost of it. Around the circle, the other Islanders were quiet for a beat. Then Ella let out a low whistle.

“Well,” she muttered, “did we just finish it?”

Tash looked away, not wanting to see the aftermath with a jaw clenched when she knew how this felt. You didn’t care—you couldn’t care about her when you felt this. You were too busy being furious with yourself for how much you felt it.

Then it was your turn. You reached into the crate, pulled a scroll, and unrolled it slowly.

“Dare — whisper a secret into the ear of the person you trust least in the villa.”

The entire group erupted in shrieks and dramatic gasps; you took in a breath as you knew that this could change the entire game.

“Oh my God,” Jess howled. “That’s insane.”

You took another breath, another beat. You contemplated for a moment before you looked around the circle, seeing the faces of them looking back at you. Especially one that felt necessary.

One long, slow inhale, and then you started walking around the circle to the one person that you knew you wanted to whisper to.  You didn’t even glance around too much, his expression unreadable.

You leaned in — lips near his ear, your voice low enough that no one else could hear as you cupped your hand around to keep it soft.

“I almost came up to the Hideaway last night but I wanted you to miss me, and I respect myself too much.”

He flinched; a knowing smile left on his lips just barely. Your eyes met his as you pulled away, even though the sunglasses kept them separate—thankfully. Then you turned, walked back, and sat down again.

Around the circle, mouths were open. Tiana’s jaw was practically on the lawn. Even the boys were murmuring amongst themselves, whispering about the fact that you chose him, “Did she just—?”

Harry didn’t move, didn’t say anything cheeky like he normally would. Instead, he just nodded and leaned back on his palms with his legs stretched out. You didn’t say anything else, you pulled your knees back to your chest.

The game rolled on — more dares, more chaos ensued with the truth bombs letting the Islanders laugh until their stomachs and cheeks hurt just the same. Ella kissed Johnny when asked to kiss the Islander with the sexiest tattoos, Megan was asked her favorite sex position. The usual mess unfolded in the usual way.

But nothing that followed hit quite like that kiss, or that whisper. It was all that you could think about; you knew from how quiet he had gotten, he had it just on his mind the same.

You shifted slightly, adjusting your bikini top and leaning back on your palms as the game moved on. The wooden crate at the center was filled with rolled-up dares and truths, some scrawled in eyeliner, others in smudged pen. Tiana had joked it looked like a cursed offering to the gods of villa chaos.

Harry sat across the circle, his legs stretched out in front of him, ankle crossed over ankle, his sunglasses low on his nose. Tash was next to him, knees grazing his. You hadn’t said a word to him since the kiss earlier.  You weren’t sure if that was better or worse.

Ella nudged you gently as Megan reached into the box.

“She’s definitely pulling something,” Ella murmured under her breath.

You gave her a small shrug, feigning indifference. “She’s always pulling something.”

Megan read the scroll silently first to herself before her lips curled into a slow, satisfied smile.

“Dare,” she read aloud, voice syrupy. “Kiss the Islander you’d most like to share a bed with tonight.”

There were instant reactions around the circle — gasps, hollers, the obligatory Ooooh! from Mitch, who had clearly been hoping it would land on him. But Megan didn’t laugh like everyone had started to. Being another single girl in the villa, you could see the wheels turning in her head before she contemplated her decision.

For a moment, you thought she might play it safe. Choose Mitch or Ronan or even Luca — something cheeky, something meaningless since none of them were in completely serious couples. Something that would make everyone laugh, that would be a passing joke.

But then she looked at Harry and didn’t look away as she started to approach him.

“Oh, come on,” Tiana whispered beside you.

Megan walked, slow, confident steps in the purple bikini that held tight against her bronzed skin, until she was standing directly in front of him. Harry looked up at her, head tilted, his grin lazy.

“Hope you don’t mind,” she commented softly with a smile on her face.

He chuckled back with his head tilted back for more access. “Not complaining.”

The kiss wasn’t long, but it was intentional. She kissed him like she wanted people to watch — like she wanted you to watch. Her hand on his shoulder, lips lingering just a breath longer than necessary. You turned your head away from watching, because it wasn’t worth seeing the stupid, cocky grin that laid on his face.

When she pulled back, she winked at him, then sauntered back to her place like she’d just won a round. You didn’t move with the reaction that was probably stoking. But the heat behind your ribs spread into something cold.

Ella exhaled with a whisper. “That was messy.”

“She’s desperate,” Tiana said flatly, raising her brows as she brushed some of the grass off the back of her thighs.

Harry, to his credit, didn’t say anything—no cheeky comment, no turning towards the boys to give a stupid, irreverent statement. He rubbed his jaw again and avoided looking directly at you, which only confirmed everything you already knew.

Then, it was Tash’s turn to draw from the crate.

She reached into the crate, cheeks already slightly pink from sun or nerves, hard to tell. She unraveled the scroll with a flick of her nails and read it aloud:

“Dare,” she said. “Kiss the Islander with the most underrated chat.”

There was a gap after she stated that it was a dare; her eyes wandering around the group for a moment. The girls looked at one another, then back to you.

“Well, that’s dangerous,” Luca muttered.

All eyes shifted to Harry.

Even he seemed to expect it, already straightening his posture slightly, his smirk creeping back. You could see the hope flicker behind his expression — the assumption that he was the obvious answer. That even after the kiss, even after everything, she’d come back to him.

But she didn’t.

Tash stood, didn’t look at Harry, and walked across the circle toward Ronan. Your head tilted slightly. Ella sat up straighter beside you.

Ronan blinked with a stupid smirk, like all of his hopes and dreams had suddenly come true. “Wait, what?”

“I think you’re slept on,” Tash said casually, then leaned in and kissed him.

It was quick with no lingering, but it was certainly not meaningless in the slightest, either. When she returned to her spot, still not looking at Harry, the silence that followed was louder than the few gasps and groans.

“How do you feel about that, Harry?” Johnny asked quietly, a smug smile on his face as he leaned to look at his friend.

Harry shrugged, nonchalance lacing over his features before he shook his head. “We’re not real big on chatting, are we. Guess I can get over that.”

Tash let the smirk on her face take over before she shook her head, “At least we have finished business.”

Harry’s expression didn’t change much, but you noticed the tension in his jaw. The flex of his fingers against his thigh. He didn’t like not being chosen.

And when he finally glanced at you, your face was unreadable.

You didn’t smile; you didn’t gloat. You just looked at him like you’d finally stopped expecting anything at all, which hit him harder than anything had before.

{NARRATOR}

Well, the sun might be going down… but Harry’s emotional confusion? That’s just getting warmed up. Nothing like a kiss with your ex to make your current flame feel super secure.

The heat still clung to everything, the railings, the beanbags, the inside of Harry’s chest. He wasn’t really in a rush to process what just happened — not the way his lips had moved against yours in front of everyone, not the way you’d looked at him after, not the way his pulse had lingered there in his throat for minutes after he’d sat back down.

Instead, he wandered through the villa and caught sight of the daybeds.

He found Tash sprawled on the edge of the daybeds, long legs crossed at the ankles, sunglasses perched on top of her head, glinting in the last light. She was leaning back on her elbows, looking almost bored as she talked with Megan quietly; to which, Harry couldn’t understand the seriousness of the conversation — except for the glint in her eye when she saw him approaching.

“Can I pull you for a chat, then?” Harry asked quietly before Megan gave a smirk, and Tash nodded softly before taking Harry’s hand to get yup.

“So…” she said, her voice light and teasing, “unfinished business, yeah?”

Harry scratched at the back of his neck as he grinned, the charm returning like a reflex he couldn’t help but show off. “What can I say? I follow instructions.”

Tash approached the benches under the balcony, laying softly on them before she arched a brow in question. “Didn’t seem like a hard decision.”

“Didn’t say it was.” He dropped down beside her without ceremony, settling into the cushions with an easy familiarity, head tilted toward her. The tension between them had always been this — playful, poking, just a little dangerous.

“But don’t get it twisted,” he added, voice lowering slightly. “You’ve been trouble since the second you walked into Casa.”

Tash laughed softly, her eyes narrowing in amusement. “You liked it, though.”

Harry pursed his lips, shaking his head, “Never said I didn’t.”

She shifted, leaning in just a hair, her voice dipping into something slower. “Still think I’m a bit of a nightmare?”

Harry chuckled, deep and quiet, making eye contact now before he let his dimples protrude with a smirk. “One hundred percent.” Then, after a beat: “But I rate it. Keeps me on my toes.”

That earned a proper smile from her — small, pleased, but not smug. She liked the game just as much as he did; she liked the teasing, and she knew how much it had bothered him that she kissed someone else.

“So, what now?” she asked, flipping her sunglasses onto the top of her head. “You’ve had your dramatic moment. What’s next, Mr. Mixed Signals?”

He exhaled through his nose, letting his gaze drift up to the dusky sky for a moment. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m not closed off.”

“Oh, clearly,” Tash said, her voice dry and soft, almost like it was just under her breath.

He turned toward her again, laughing. “Oi.”

“What?” She smirked. “You snog your ex-missus with unfinished business and then come lay with me — what am I supposed to think?”

Harry leaned in slightly, his elbow brushing hers. His eyes flicked to her mouth for a split second — barely long enough to register, but enough that she noticed.

“That I’m exploring my options,” he told her with honesty laced in his voice. He stared up at her, pulling his sunglasses into his curls before he tilted his head.

Tash tilted her head, unimpressed but intrigued. “Exploring… or just being greedy? Can’t buy the cow and get the milk, or whatever the phrase is.”

That slow, half-smirk returned to his face — the one that made it hard to tell whether he was serious or just playing.

“It’s my money, innit?” He joked, “I’m paying my dues.”

She let out a low, breathy laugh and leaned back, giving him space again. “Well. If you’re still exploring…and if you’re paying for the milk.”

She looked at him, all glittering eyes and heat beneath her lashes; she didn’t want to lean in when she knew that others were looking, but Tash felt that her “You know where to find me.”

{CONFESSIONAL - TASH}

Tash shook her head, pulling her lips into her mouth.

“I think that Harry is playing a game with me, but I do think we have undeniable chemistry, so I can see it in his face,” She bites her lip, “I know he was with Y/N, but the whole point of Love Island is to test that connection and I think I’m throwing him for a loop a bit.”

{IN THE VILLA}

Harry watched her for a moment, neither leaning in nor pulling away because they both know what they want but can’t have. Just letting the tension hang there — that charged, magnetic in-between that he never seemed to leave lately.

He didn’t answer; he didn’t have to.

{CONFESSIONAL – HARRY}

He’s sitting on the confessional bench, arms draped on his thighs, sunglasses pushed into his curls. He sighs with a little smirk, shaking his head like he’s completely unaware of the fact that he could potentially be making a huge mistake.

“Look, I don’t regret bringing Tash back.” A single beat passes before he looks up, “But I needed to be more respectful.”

All that he displays is a shrug and a much wider grin, almost like he can’t control himself.

“Did I handle any of this perfectly? Nah. Do I still think Tash is fit? Absolutely. But I’ve got history with her… and now I’ve got chemistry with Tash.”

He leans forward slightly, eyes mischievous.

“The villa’s just got complicated again, hasn’t it?”

{IN THE DRESSING ROOM}

Somewhere outside, a bottle of sunscreen hit the deck with a hollow thud, and someone’s laughter echoed near the pool. Ella tossed her sunglasses onto the marble counter with a casual flick of her wrist, shaking out her hair to prepare to slick it back for the evening cocktail hour.

“Did anyone else clock that little daybed moment?” she said, not looking at either you or Tiana, just raising an eyebrow at her own reflection as she reached for her mascara.

Behind her, Tiana let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Harry and Tash? Yeah, babe. Clocked it, logged it in my journal, highlighted it in bold.”

You sat down on the bench beneath the vanity row, toweling the back of your neck slowly, methodically — like if you focused hard enough on that one motion, it might help you care a little less. It didn’t, obviously.

Ella turned slightly, watching you in the mirror now. “He kissed you today because of ‘unfinished business’. And now he’s laid out all flirty with the girl he brought back?” Her voice was sharp but not cruel; it was the kind of protective edge that only surfaced when someone she cared about was getting mugged off.

“He’s playing it both ways,” Tiana added, applying bronzer without missing a beat. “It’s like he’s not getting properly told off.”

You glanced at your reflection for a moment; you see your hair damp at the ends, face slightly flushed from the heat and all the things you weren’t saying. You weren’t crying. But you looked… tired.

“He said he still wanted to explore,” you murmured, the words tasting thinner out loud than they had in your head.

Ella blinked, putting a hair tie in her mouth to pull her hair back into a pony. “And you think Tash is gonna back off now?”

You shrugged, rubbing the towel between your hands. “She said I could trust her,” you said softly. “I just… feel like I’m the one looking stupid again.”

There was a silence then after you spoke, not a cold one, just the kind that falls when friends are trying to find the right words to say. Then Tiana twisted in her stool to face you properly.

“Babes,” she said, voice firmer now. “He’s the one looking confused.” She gave you a once-over, head to toe. “You? You’re still the girl everyone wants, and you’re going to move on if he’s going to never mind the bollocks.”

You looked up, meeting her eyes — and there it was. That flicker of belief passed between you. You weren’t sure you fully felt it yet, but it was something. Enough to hold onto for the moment, at least until you could talk with him. A slow, reluctant smile curved your mouth.

It wasn’t big or overstated, but it was real. And in this villa, that counted for a lot.

{IN THE VILLA – EVENING}

Glasses clinked on countertops as everyone made their way from the bedroom and dressing rooms down to the main portion of the lawn. Laughter drifted like smoke across the patio as Johnny made a comment about earlier; Harry sat with Tash next to him, having a quick chat. The cocktail hour hum had settled — less chaotic than daytime, more dangerous in its calm.

You walked over to Luca who was standing next to Megan; the light from the string lights overhead was just starting to glow faintly, casting a warm halo on the top of his head.

As you approached, he glanced to the other side of him at the subtle notice of someone next to him. “Well, well,” he said, eyebrows raised. “This feels suspicious.”

You gave him a tired smile. “Mind if I pull you for a quick chat?”

He grinned, tilting his head. “Ooooh. What’s this, then? Bit of unfinished business?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smirk tugging at your mouth. “If I have to hear that one more time,” You joked, shaking your head as you started walking towards the seats underneath the terrace, “Just a little something different, then. Come on.”

You led him toward the corner of the garden, where the fairy lights were brighter and the noise faded to murmurs. There was a bench tucked between two planters, shaded by a low-hanging olive tree. The kind of spot you could be overheard in — but only if someone really wanted to.

Luca dropped beside you, his knee knocking lightly against yours as you both melted into the seats.

He looked at you, taking a drink from his cup. “So… what’s going on? How was that challenge for you today?”

You exhaled, giving him a solid smile but knowing how much was beneath it. “I’m trying really hard not to spiral—but I genuinely think I’m going mad.”

He didn’t press. Just nodded once, because he knew exactly what you meant and exactly who you were referring to.

You shrugged, eyes flicking toward the pool where the rest of the villa buzzed around. “It’s like… I know who he is. I’ve known since the start, right? I could tell he was a flirt and he doesn’t hide it. But today — the kiss, then chatting to Tash after like it didn’t even mean anything — I just…” Your voice trailed off when you realized how mad it all sounded—how completely lost in delusion you may have been from it. The knot in your chest cinched a little tighter.

“I need to stop waiting for someone to pick me, and I guess I’m just stuck in wondering if I should continue with the connection or not because I don’t want leave here with the thought of knowing we could patch things up, you know?”

Luca was quiet for a moment. Then he smiled with a soft, tilted, a little cocky but not performative grin.

“Well,” he started, hands in his lap as he held his cup against his knees, “if you’re done waiting… maybe it’s time you start getting picked by someone who actually sees what’s in front of him—like you’re a catch, and I know that Casa kind of rocked the villa, as it does, but I think you may need to have a bit more stability.”

You blinked, caught off guard by how gentle it landed, and how it could be harsh in the softest of ways.

He shrugged, taking in a deep breath as he turned his eyes up to look at you. “I’ve been single two days and I already know you’re better than that mess.”

You gave a laugh — not the tight, forced one you’d been perfecting lately. A little breathy, but yours.

“So what,” you said, bumping your shoulder into his, “Will you be pulling me for more chats then?”

Luca smirked, licking over his lips. “I mean…,” He bit his lip, letting the silence from your private dwelling hang for a beat before finishing: “If the door’s cracked open, I’d be mad not to try. You’re gorgeous and I think you have a lot more connections you could build, but you put all of your eggs in his basket the first day.”

You looked at him, really looked at his brown eyes and his bronzed skin and something in you settled. Maybe not all the way, but enough.

You smiled, leaning back for a moment. “Consider it cracked—ajar, really.”

His grin widened as he gave you a small laugh, confident now. Sure, but not smug like you had known from some of the other boys. He didn’t reach for your hand, didn’t lean in. Just stayed close — close enough for you to feel the shift.

{CONFESSIONAL – LUCA}

Luca sits on the confessional bench, freshly showered, with his hair still damp, and a grin lazily crossing his features.

“Look, I didn’t come in thinking me and her would be a thing, yeah? She’s been locked in with Harry since the first week, so I didn’t even try.”

He pauses, smirks a little and looks into the camera. “But now? Door’s cracked open. She pulled me for a chat, and I’m not stupid — she’s stunning, she’s smart, and she’s not about the games. Which is rare in here.”

He leans forward, eyes glinting with something that resembled hope and a bit of change that felt scarier to initiate than to think about.

“Do I know where it’s going? Not yet. But if there’s a spark — I’ll go for it. Life’s short, the villa’s mad… might as well see what happens.”

{NARRATOR}

As the sun sets on another chaotic day in paradise, Harry’s losing grip, Tash is lying low, and Y/N might just have a new someone cracking on. And if we’ve learned anything by now, it’s that nothing stays quiet for long in this villa.

You sat near the fire pit, your knees pulled up to your chest on one of the cushions, sipping from your water bottle and letting the warmth of the flames kiss your shins. Most of the Islanders had drifted to have more chats with their respective couple, others bantered laughter which still echoed faintly from the hallway.

Footsteps approached behind you, slow and tentative, and you didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

He hovered for a second, then took the empty cushion beside you without a word—he didn’t ask to sit, didn’t ask for a chat. The space between you felt charged—not in an angry way, but a cautious way. Like the next few minutes would matter more than either of you wanted to admit.

He let out a long breath, then looked ahead at the fire.

“You alright?” he asked finally, voice low, barely above the crackle of the flames.

You nodded once, wanting to give an air of confidence that would allow him to shuffle in his own skin for a minute; you just didn’t have it in you. “Yeah.”

The silene was louder than anything else around here, you came to find. Then you turned slightly, your cheek resting on your knee, eyes on him. His curls were a little damp from his post-game shower. The firelight flickered in his eyes.

“That dare,” you commented softly. “Unfinished business, huh?”

His jaw tensed, then relaxed again. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, like the words he needed were stuck somewhere deep.

“Everyone’s been on me about this, but I just don’t know who else I was supposed to say, like,” he said eventually. “Didn’t do it to stir things. I just—” He looked at you, properly. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

You didn’t answer right away, you just chewed on the inside of your cheek as you stared at the flames in the firepit. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“I know I messed it up—like I know the Tash thing looks like—well, it looks like exactly what it is. And I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like it was the worst thing that could ever happen to our relationship, because it’s not. I’m here to build a connection.”

You looked at him carefully, watching how his shoulders slumped slightly when he said it — like it cost him something to admit out loud.

“It’s not about that Harry,” you said, not wanting to raise your quiet voice. “It’s—fuck, it’s about the trust, you know? Like I get it, I know where you’re coming from. But you were sharing a bed, you were—”

“I know.” His eyes were pained; he rolled them almost like he couldn’t believe himself at how ridiculous it all sounded. “And you had every right to. I shouldn’t’ve—Christ, I shouldn’t’ve let it get to that point with her. I told myself we were open, that I was just testing stuff like everyone else.”

He trailed off, shaking his head.

“But I wasn’t thinking about the game. I was thinking about you. And I just—I didn’t want to be the guy who came back alone and looked pathetic.”

You gave a slight frown at his word choice. “So you brought someone back to save face?”

“No.” He looked at you sharply. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I didn’t use her. I just—look, we got on. But I didn’t feel what I feel with you. And that kiss today?” He leaned back slightly, his voice lowering. “That wasn’t to be a dick. That was real—we have unfinished business because I’m attracted to you and it all just keeps coming back to being intimate and having that to hold onto.”

Your heart kicked at the memory — of his hands, his voice, his mouth whispering into your shoulder in the dark of that shared bed. The covers pulled over your heads, the soft breaths and the warmth of his fingertips as they crept over your skin in a way that felt needed.

“Everything about that meant something to me,” he added, his voice wavered a bit, but you still didn’t look him in the eyes. “And I never said it, because I thought we were taking it slow. But I shouldn’t’ve treated what we had like it was replaceable. I see that now.”

You looked down at your hands, fingers twisting in your lap as you let your legs fall from your chest, down to the group.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you murmured, contemplating. “I don’t know if that door’s still open.”

“I’m not asking you to throw it wide, you know,” he said, licking over his lips with a hesitancy, “I’m just asking if it’s still on the hinges.”

That made you laugh, just a little — a tiny exhale through your nose. He took that as permission to go on.

“I want to do it right,” he said, more quietly now. “I don’t want to force it. I just want the chance to show you I can be who you thought I was — before Casa. Before all this.”

You turned your head toward him; his eyes, his expression wasn’t smug, or flirty, or even hopeful. It was sincere. It was a part of Harry that you hadn’t seen before, this sincerity that wasn’t laced in a flirtation or hunger. You bite your lip, unsure of what to say. You weren’t ready to forgive, but not ready to walk away either.

“Actions will speak louder than words,” you whispered, the only words that would come to mind as you nodded.

He nodded, to confirm with you. “I’m not rushing you. I just… needed you to know where I’m at.”

The silence stretched again — but this time, it felt gentler. Less jagged. Eventually, you both leaned back on your cushions, saying nothing more. The fire crackled between you, and the rest of the villa buzzed quietly behind you.

For the first time in days, you weren’t sure what came next. And maybe that gave you unexplained clarity that you were looking for, in an odd sense.

{LATER IN THE VILLA}

It was late enough that the villa had quieted, the sky a rich navy with stars just beginning to peek through the gaps in the night. Most of the Islanders were winding down — some lingering in the kitchen for a final snack, others getting their microphones changed or slipping into their PJs.

Tash sat outside on the large blue beanbag near the edge of the pool, her hair up in a lazy bun, shoulders bare beneath the thin straps of her pajama cami. She looked tired — not in a physical way, but in the way someone did when they were thinking a little too hard about things they weren’t quite ready to say out loud.

Mitch dropped down beside her without asking, swinging a leg up and letting his water bottle rest against his knee.

“You look like your head’s doing circles,” he said, nudging her with his elbow.

Tash gave a weak smile, sniffling in as she took in a breath. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying,” Mitch added, more gently this time. “Where’s your head at?”

“Don’t know, really. Guess it’s just a bit confusing because I think he’s telling her something different than what he’s telling me,” She huffed, folding her arms. “I knew something was still there with them. You can just… tell, right?”

Mitch tilted his head. “Yeah. But I don’t think that makes you a mug, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

She hesitated, pushing her glasses up on her nose, removed of the makeup that had been added. “I mean, it kind of does. He brought me back here, kissed me, slept in the same bed. And now he’s acting like she’s the only one who ever mattered, you know what I mean? Like, sure, he didn’t do everything right—but he brought me back because we had a connection, too, and now Y/N has his tail between his legs.”

Mitch raised an eyebrow, knowing those were words that would stir the villa up. “Did he tell you he was done with her?”

“No. Not in those words.” She picked at a loose thread on the beanbag. “But he let me think there was space for something. And now he’s running off whispering by the fire pit with her, acting like I’m invisible.”

There was a beat of silence, as Mitch looks over to see Harry talking with Y/N as they brushed their teeth; it looked more of a passing conversation but understanding where the pain may have come from. She looked at him, something honest flickering across her face.

Mitch nodded slowly, taking a sip of his water. “So what’s the move, then?”

Tash exhaled through her nose, looking out at the still water on the beaches beyond the villa.

“I’m not chasing anyone,” she told him firmly, with confidence and a bit of disbelief that he’d think that of her. “If he wants her, fine. But I’m not gonna be the fallback girl he cuddles up to when she ignores him.”

Mitch grinned. “There she is.”

Tash smirked at that. “I’m still in this villa. I’ve still got options. If Harry’s not gonna take me seriously, someone else might.”

Mitch leaned back on his own beanbag. “Fair play. Just… don’t let his drama dim you, yeah? You’ve got more going on than being a plot point in their love story.”

She nudged him with her foot with a giggle. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime, kiddo.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the sounds of laughter drifting faintly from the dressing room. And for the first time that day—or the entire time since she had shown up, Tash didn’t feel like the villain in someone else’s romance. She felt like a girl who still had something to play for.

{THE NEXT DAY}

The villa had that still, sticky quality that made everyone move slower — sunscreen being slathered on shoulders, sunglasses traded back and forth, bodies sprawled on beanbags in soft, easy conversation. You were lying by the pool, legs dangling in the water, head tilted back toward the sun.

It felt like the calm after the storm. Truth or Dare had left its mess, but the edges were softening, and  conversations were mending or fraying quietly in corners.

Until the voice rang out:

“Islanders!”

Everyone’s heads snapped up in unison.

There, framed perfectly in the entrance, stood Maya Jama — radiant as ever in a red halter-neck sundress and heels that somehow didn’t sink into the grass. Her sunglasses were already pushed up onto her head, dark curls bouncing as she stepped down the path like she owned it.

Chaos always followed Maya, and that made your heart skip a beat as you stood and started to put yourself back together.

Ella let out a gasp, quickly walking next to you. “Oh, she’s here. That means something’s happening.”

You stood up slowly, water dripping from your legs, a jolt of nerves waking in your chest.

Maya gave a little wave, her smile knowing. “Get up, everyone! Come join me by the fire pit!”

The Islanders scrambled, towels dropped, sunglasses adjusted. Harry was the last to move, hanging back slightly, his jaw already tight.

Maya waited until everyone was in place, scanning the group with that perfect host smile — the one that said brace yourselves without needing to say it. Then she turned to the entrance.

“How is everyone doing?” She asked with reverent happiness and calmness that told you all that something was going to happen—something was coming.

Everyone gave a few grunts and nods of acknowledgement before Luca answered for the group, “Think we’ve had our share of some ups and down, but I think overall, we’re doing well.”

Maya smirked slightly before she nodded, “Good—good to hear. Well, we have a recoupling tonight, and to help with that, I thought it may be time for you all to meet two new bombshells!”

“Oh, shit—oh hell.” Gasps rippled through the firepit area instantly as your heart started to beat faster in your chest.

From behind her walked a tall, athletic guy with sandy brown hair and bright blue eyes, his white shirt open enough to show off his chest tattoos. A beat behind him came a dark-haired girl in a cobalt blue bikini top and wrap skirt, her smile confident and eyes already flicking over the group like she was scanning for prey.

“This is William and Catie,” Maya announced to the group when they came to stand next to her. “And they’re ready to make some waves.”

You barely had time to register William’s sharp jawline and the fact that Catie was already eyeing the boys like she was placing bets, before Maya continued, looking over at both of them as they looked back at her.

“William, Catie — you’ll each be taking an Islander of your choice on a date today. You’ve had a sneak peek… so who are you choosing, and who needs to get ready to go?”

William stepped forward, his grin easy, his gaze landing right on you—you’d almost wish he stopped looking at you like that, because your heart fluttered for a moment.

“I’d like to take Y/N,” he said, a bit confident. You hear a strong accent, similar to Harry’s, really. You can tell that his blood boils at that—you just know that he’s buzzing.

The breath caught in your throat — not from shock, exactly, but from the sudden shift in atmosphere. You felt Harry look at you before you even turned your head, but you kept your expression neutral.

Catie went next. Her voice was smooth. “I’d love to take Luca.”

Luca laughed, clapping his hands together. “Let’s go, then, Catie.”

The two of you were whisked away a moment later — escorted out to get ready, the villa already buzzing behind you with whispers, glances, smirks.

Back at the fire pit, Harry stood with his arms crossed, watching the path where you’d disappeared. His mouth was set in a tight line, sunglasses hiding his eyes — but everyone who knew him could see the shift.

Mitch leaned over, nudging him. “Fair play, mate. Bit of your own medicine, that.”

Harry didn’t answer. He just stared after you.

{IN A CONFESSIONAL - HARRY}

 Harry leaned back on the bench, rubbing a hand through his hair.

“She looks fit today in that tiny yellow bikini,” he admitted, lips twitching into something that might’ve been a smile — or a grimace. “The lad’s not blind.”

He paused.

“D’you know what, though? Fair play. I’ve made mistakes. I brought someone else back. So if this tests our connection — maybe it needs testing.”

But his eyes didn’t quite match his voice. Not when he added:

“I just hope she remembers what we had before everything got messy. That it meant something..”

He shook his head with a quiet laugh, looking straight into the camera.

“Let’s see what happens.”

[curly94]

What did we learn today?✍️

Louis doesn't like complains about his setlist, or the amount of 1D Songs 💅

Louis does like a loud crowd 📢

Louis does like flags and little projects🏳️‍🌈

Louis loves the Chants between Songs or in the break🎶

Louis doesn't like being too short at barricade🤏

[todayisdeadinside]

"Louis" rn:

[colmiillo]

When y/n does something so cringe that i have to look at the invisible camera for a sec.

[niallssherlock]

this absolutely gutted me because i only recently became a one direction fan as of april 2025 - that's when i went on a deep dive of their music. (let's not get into it, but i knew a few songs, namely what makes you beautiful, one thing, they don't know about us, story of my life, and 18, that was it) but as i got pulled into this fandom nearly 15 years after their formation, liam was the one i was drawn to. so even though i was too young to know the magic of "what makes you beautiful" at its release, my middle school introduction to it, and then years later when i binge listened to all 5 albums in the span of a couple of days, liam was the one who immediately drew me in. the charisma. the leadership. the vocals. immediately impressive. it's crazy to me how years later, after seeing how much of an impact the boys had on the literal entire world, how they're still changing brain chemistry today. and for me, that starts with liam.

I keep having this one agonizing thought.

Unless you were really into British pop music-based television, the introduction to One Direction for almost everybody in the world was "What Makes You Beautiful" - and those opening lines, no matter how memed or overplayed they became during that nostalgic autumn of 2011 - are Liam's vocals.

Whether you ended up being a stan with posters all over your walls who cried in your middle school bathroom when Zayn left or you were someone that got swept up in pop culture hatred and called them annoying or overrated - that song was likely the first impression One Direction ever left on you.

That means Liam is the first thing the world ever heard of One Direction as a group, so for him to be the first thing to leave, truly permanently leave the world behind, makes the gaping hole feel that much larger.

[duchessripper]

“why do you still use tumblr?”

listen— i have to keep track of my hyper fixations somehow

[hoovesandfloorpaws]

July 2010 - A Larry X-Factor Recap 🦋🐝

mostly an excerpt from this full post I archived, original timeline by the wonderful @bulletprooflarry and bonus videos to happily, sappily reminisce (◡‿◡✿)

10 July 2010 Harry and Louis (unknowingly) both attend their first televised X-Factor audition. No contact between them is documented.

18 July 2010 This is the first televised moment we have of them together. They notice each other in the stairwell.

They might have noticed each other beforehand, but as evident by their own many re-tellings, by that point they hadn't talked to each other, yet.

21 July 2010 💙💚 They finally meet, in the X-Factor bathrooms. Louis takes the chance and gets Harry's first autograph and tells him "not to worry", as Louis knows Harry will "be successful". They talk some more and also end up taking their first picture together:

(Louis in his butterfly and bee shirt 🦋🐝🥹 coincidentally 2 tattoos Harry would later get)

The same day, 21 July 2010, this picture gets taken of them as a group (the name below was put there later)

When they took the picture, they hadn't been put into a band, yet. So this is their first real picture together at X-Factor, the tape that was later put on first called them 1Direction and that picture wasn't released until later on.

22 July 2010 They officially get put into a group together! One Direction is born.

Louis jumps into Harry's arms like this and lets himself get carried away. They've known each other for less than 1 day at that point. 😭💙💚 There's a few televised moments of them talking to each other (just the 2 of them) from that day, too.

Then they have their first interview together.

26 July 2010, an X-Factor fan Tumblr announces them, at that point the band name has not been made public.

Jay, Louis' Mum, took that picture: "The funny thing about this photograph is that I went into full Mum mode. I had gone to pick up Louis and he had rang me around 7.30pm saying "can't talk - they have put me in a band" & the line went dead. I waited outside the steps at Wembley Arena to pick him up. When he came out & explained briefly about the band I said let's gather you all together and take the first ever pic. He was looking around the crowds outside trying to pick out the boys ha xx"" 🥹

bonus:

And the rest is history. 💖

[emlovesniallhoran]

he doesn’t deserve ANY of this bullshit. people suck. so bad. i hate x. you guys on here better watch your shit or else i swear 😡😡👊👊

[likea-silhouette]

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

rating: mature | heavy making out, angst, mentions of addiction and past relationship.

word count: 7.5k

summary: Harry was once the boy you loved and wanted to spend your life with. The funny thing is that addiction is something that is never predicted. What happens when you run into your ex-boyfriend years after your breakup that was due to his vices? a/n: Sorry this took AGES for me to put together and send out into the world. Life was insane the past couple of months--but! this is the second to last chapter in this series - you've been warned lol. Seriously, thanks everyone for reading. This part is verrryyy angsty, but also very soft - enjoy

*based on the song Complex by Katie Gregson-MacLeod* Taglist: @maudie-duan @kiwitsayedsugar @imaginexxharry @wheredidmyeyesgo @georgiarose94 @secretisme @drewrry @fratzayn @spinninc

Read from the beginning - Series Masterlist

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday all passed by in a blur. Work kept you busy, alongside the mundane tasks that come with adulthood, like cooking and cleaning. When you weren’t working or doing any of those dreadful errands and chores, you were talking to Harry - something you thought you’d never be saying in the present day. Between waking up to good morning texts, to sending little tidbits about either of your day, it felt normal for both of you to slip into this..whatever this was.

It all felt eerily similar. In a way, it even felt like riding a bike. Both of you talking in between your daily lives felt like a skill that was once mastered. So mastered, now it was effortless to recall and perform, even after the long period spent apart from one another.

This past week made you realize how emaciated you were of his attention. How desperate you were to drink from his words as if you’d spent a decade in a desert in search of the one thing that could quench your thirst. This feeling was comfort.

This feeling was safety, belonging even. On the other hand, in the back of your mind, you had massive doubts and rudely worded anxieties that made you question-what if this was all one-sided? Why on earth would Harry entertain anything with you again when he was busy traveling the world, attending events, making movies-why the fuck would he care about you as much as you had found yourself caring about him lately? 

As you stood in the entryway of your closet, you couldn’t help but let your thoughts take over and enter your task of picking out an outfit for dinner tonight with Harry. You felt like a hypocrite. Years later-after you broke everything off with him, now you were the one tittering on a line of begging on your hands and knees to just get something as simple as a hug and hello from him. Here, your thoughts really began to spiral.

What if you were wrong? What if you overreacted all of those years in the past?

You even found yourself wondering if Harry’s addiction really was all that bad, or if, in the heat of the moment, it just felt really, very bad. On the contrary, that other little voice in your head-the angel that sat on your shoulder across from the devil-was there to reassure your decisions regarding yours and Harry’s relationship. Back then, Harry was your absolute everything. In order for you to pack up your shit, leave, and never speak to him again-that wasn’t easy for you. It was one of the most painful and difficult conclusions you’d had to come to. You remembered that discomfort as if it were yesterday. 

You breathed a sigh of relief as your hand graced the fabric of a shirt, the texture bringing you back into your body as you relished in the senses the silk left on your finger tips. You nodded your head, reassuring yourself with some gentle self-parenting. Two things can be true. You can desire Harry more than anything in the world and crave that affection again and again until the end of time. However, it doesn’t erase that what Harry did in the past was wrong. You reminded yourself how this current Harry was a slightly altered one of the version you broke things off with. In fact, he quite reminded you of the Harry you knew when you two first met. If it was easy to fall for him back then, why should now be any different? A medium-volume tone rang from your phone, which was sitting on top of a nearby table. You cursed under your breath as the familiar alarm you’d set for yourself to ensure you wouldn’t be late sounded throughout your apartment.

“God damn it”, you huffed as you glanced at your empty hands. You hadn’t even picked a single piece of clothing to wear yet, and that alarm signified you needed to leave in five minutes. By some grace from some god-you were able to throw something halfway decent together and smooth the fabric over your body. Quickly, you walked towards your front door as your eyes examined your form one last time before giving a nod in semi-approval. Your keys twirled around your finger as you briskly walked to your car. 

The moment you sat in the driver's side with the door closed and the key turned in the ignition, that’s when the anxiety began to race in your mind ten times as much as before. __________________________________

As if today couldn’t have been more stressful, you had to fucking parallel park in one of the most nightlife of all nightlife neighborhoods in the city. Sweat trickled from your forehead to your done-up eyebrows. You dabbed a napkin ever so slightly to soak up some of the liquid that fell on your brow amid your nervousness.

Like clockwork, your phone buzzed in the middle compartment of your car. You already knew who it would be. “I’m here. When you get to the host, just tell them your name and they’ll know where to take you. Can’t wait to see you. H x” You wore a smitten look as you typed in a quick response from the driver's side of your parked car.

“I just parallel parked for you. I hope you know that.” As Harry sat in the back of the restaurant, he felt the vibration in his pants pocket. An amused chuckle quietly vibrated in his chest. His fingers soon were tapping in a reply. “How do you still not know how to parallel park when you live in the city?” Harry smirked to himself at his clever reply as he moved to tuck his phone back in his pocket. That is until he was interrupted by the sound of someone's throat clearing. His mind found a moment of fear at the thought that it was a fan or someone else who dared to ruin this night he so intricately had planned with you. However, the person who brought him a moment of panic was actually the very person he had curated this night for. Harry breathed a sigh of relief as his green eyes met yours. He tried his hardest, but ultimately failed as he succumbed to his desires, as his eyes took you in and froze on the parts of your body that he found to be especially pleasing to the eye. You were beautiful, not that he ever doubted you wouldn’t be. “Hey,” you timidly responded as you moved locks of your hair further away from your face. In the most gentlemanly of all manners, Harry stood to his feet and took a step towards you. A boyish grin perforated his facial features as his hands settled inside of the deep pockets in the front of his pants. “I see you made it even after having to parallel park.” You rolled your eyes as a single laugh exited your mouth, “Barely. Be happy I didn’t give up after my first attempt and just drive back home.” “First attempt? Were there other attempts?” Harry asked, already knowing the answer to your truly tragic parking skills, or lack thereof. “Shut up”, you playfully smacked Harry’s shoulder with the back of your hand as neither of you held eye contact in shared amusement. After moments of silence and looks of admiration, both of you took your seats. However, you couldn’t help but sneak in a once-over as your eyes descended from the top of Harry’s head to the bottom of his feet.

He was wearing a mix of fashion and comfortability. A plain colored shirt adorned his chest as a pair of slacks and a black belt hit him midwaist, clinging to his lower half in all of the preferred places. The hem of his pants just barely kissed the marble floor that was underneath a pair of addidas sneakers that looked nearly fresh from the box. God-he looked expensive and handsome. “I take it you like my outfit?” Startled out of your trance, your eyes looked as if they were going to bulge out of your head as they landed on Harry’s humored expression.

You were quick to put on the bravest face of them all and drop a witty reply.

“Could use some work”, you spoke with a fake wince and tilt of your head that Harry nearly believed. If it weren’t for your straight-lined lips upturning to an amused smile, Harry would’ve started asking you for fashion advice right then and there. “I’m joking.” “No shit”, Harry spoke as his mouth hovered over the top of his glass of water. Humored, you shook your head as your fingers squeezed the lemon that once sat on the edge of your glass, and allowed its juices to drip into your water.

“Someone's in a mood today”, you joked as Harry wore a smug grin and gulped down his sip of water

Suddenly, a mischievous phrase struck his thoughts and dared him to speak it. Who was he to deny himself a little banter? “Like the mood you were in last Sunday night?” Your eyes watched Harry in confusion as he flipped through the menu with eyes that spoke of a secret little joke that only he was in on. Silently, you sat, trying to analyze his words and what he was getting at. 

Ever so often, Harry’s eyes would leave the menu to look at your squinted ones; he couldn’t stop himself from letting out a small chuckle at your puzzled expression.

Last Sunday night-at the party? You thought you had been acting pretty normal and, if you were being honest, much more reserved than norm- Mid-sentence, it hit you. The text messages. He was talking about the suggestive texts you and him had shared the night of your reunion. The ones that spread heat along your inner thighs and sent a small, yet powerful symphony of pleasure. Your thighs instinctively pressed together under the table-you were thankful Harry couldn't see your attempt at easing some pressure in the most discreet way possible. Both of your eyes met-Harry’s mixed with the perfect balance of mischievous and something deeper, much more passionate and starved. Thankfully, a waiter spared you having to conjure up some sort of reply to Harry’s teasing. Or at least, deliver him a response right away. You knew Harry well enough to know he wouldn’t let you get away without discussing the nature of your messages that occurred nearly a week ago.

He always did enjoy getting a rise out of you. Harry delivered his order first to the waiter, buying you just enough time to scan through the folded brochure-like object that you hadn’t even looked through yet. After deciding on the first thing you saw that sounded appetizing, your order was spoken to the waiter and once each of your orders were sorted, with a friendly smile, the waiter set off for the next table of customers. Leaving you and Harry alone yet again. His eyes returned to boring back into yours. Harry still wore a facial expression that was dripping with playful arrogance. “What?”, you shyly questioned as you busied your nervous hands by laying the fabric napkin on your lap. “Oh, nothing”, Harry said as he rested his elbows on the top of the table, his chin now resting on the top of his hands that were folded together. “Elbows on the table? At a restaurant of this price range?”, you teased in an attempt to draw the conversation in a different direction. It worked, but only partially. Harry shrugged silently as his eyes watched you-much more amused and mesmerized by you than his fucking elbows and this overpriced restaurant. He couldn’t help but have lingering eyes that he couldn’t pry away even if he tried his hardest. It made a heat wave spread to your face.

“I missed you.” You scoffed playfully, “It’s been less than a week Harry.” “But before that, it was years. Too many years.” A surge of energy wreaked havoc on your body as it began to tremble with a small pulse, yet you could still feel it was there, just barely. “Is that why you asked me to dinner tonight?” Harry leant back to slouch in his chair. His arms crossed in front of his chest as he simply watched and pondered your question. “I asked you for a lot of reasons.” “Like what?” “Too many to list.” You pressed further, “Then give me a couple.” Harry sighed, this time being the one to feel the nervous energy through him as he was tasked with telling the barest of truths. “Alright, number one”, Harry held up a single finger in the air as you watched in amusement. “I missed you-” “You already said that one!” “So what?” Harry protested with a grin on his face. “So it doesn’t count if I already know.” “Hmmm, I don’t remember you giving me rules.” “Harry!” you spoke loudly, too loud for a place of this caliber. Nervously, you looked around as you brought your glass up to your lips and took a sip of the clear liquid. “You always did love screaming my name.” “Ohmyfuckinggod”, you mumbled quickly under hushed breath. “You can’t say shit like that in public!”

“Where can I say it then? My place after dinner?” This man, I swear to God. “Is this one of your reasons for asking me to dinner?” Harry quirked his eyebrow in amusement, “It is nice to have dinner with someone who gets my sarcasm. So…maybe it is.” You took the compliment as you raised the glass up to your lips again, draining it of all of the remaining beverage. “I’m surprised you didn’t get wine.” Years apart and he still knew your drink of choice when eating at a sit down restaurant. “I didn’t want to drink in front of you because…you know”, you paused. “I just didn’t want to trigger you or anything-” Before you could finish your sentence, Harry gave a single nod that featured a knowing glance and a small, weak smile.

He could feel his insides melt at the thoughtfulness on your part. A smile dared to spread along his lips as he spoke, “You don’t have to do that, really. I don’t miss drinking at all anymore. So happy I don’t have to deal with another hangover ever again.”

You nodded, fully believing his words, yet still not completely convinced that drinking in front of him was the wisest idea. “I bet, but really-i’m fine. Alcohol isn’t a necessity for me to enjoy dinner with a friend.” Harry felt a ping of joy hit him in the center of his heart. “So we’re friends?”. His voice was as soft as cashmere.

“I mean, yeah. Only if that’s okay.” “I would really like to be friends”, Harry answered quickly with bright pupils.

His hand fidgeted like it wanted to reach out towards you and rest the palm of your hand on top of his. He could picture it perfectly in his head-how your soft skin would feel on his and how you’d smile and rub your thumb along his palm. Harry sighed to himself out of foolish thinking and moved his eyes back up to yours.

Thankfully, the waiter arrived with food in hand. The perfect opportunity for a much-needed change of subject.

The energy was bright and cozy despite the low-lit lighting in the restaurant. Steam rose up from either of your plates as you eyed them with mouths agape.

“What did you order again?”

“Eggplant Parmigiana.” 

Harry hummed in approval as you moved your eyes over to his plate, which was full of noodles and a light colored sauce, garnished with variously colored vegetables.

“How do you feel about-” “Going half and half?” Harry finished for you. You smiled and nodded.

“Just like old times.” “Just like old times,” Harry reiterated as he shoveled a helping of pasta onto your plate as you dug your fork and knife into the perfectly crisped and breaded eggplant.

Both of you dived into your entrees that were now complemented by half of the other person's dinner plate. 

Harry watched with curious eyes as you took the first bite, holding his breath as if this was the food he cooked with his bare hands and was facing life or death based on your outcome. 

Really, he just wanted tonight to be perfect for you.

You moaned as the sauce mixed with the fried vegetables and noodles hit your tongue, sending a flurry of spices and seasonings that mixed in the best way possible.

“Good?” Harry chuckled, though your reaction made it pretty clear how you felt about your choice.

You nodded with a mouth still chewing. “Sooo fucking good”, you spoke the swear softly once the food had gone down your throat.

The rest of the meal went by as you might have guessed. Both of you commenting on the other's food, even giving star ratings and discussing what would’ve done it better, or how it was a perfect piece of culinary art. As much as your taste buds would’ve loved for you to devour the entire plate in one sitting, your aching stomach just wouldn’t allow it.

You peered over the middle of the table at Harry’s plate, which looked nearly identical to yours-clearly eaten through, yet paused because his stomach was saying enough is enough.

“Do we need to-go boxes?” the waiter said, slyly maneuvering the covered check onto the table in the middle of both of you.

“Yes, two please. Thank you”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Harry’s ringed hand clutch the black checkbook in his hand, not even bothering to look at the receipt that he knew he would afford. He simply slid his card in the slot provided on the inside of the check booklet. It all happened so fast. Before you could even protest about the check, the waiter had dropped off two to-go boxes and picked up the checkbook. “Can I pay for half of it, please?” “No, but thanks for asking”, Harry replied sarcastically, making you roll your eyes with a small smile as he nonchalantly tucked his card back inside his wallet.

“You’re insufferable.” “Yet here you are having dinner with me. I can’t be all that bad.” You could tell Harry felt comfortable tonight. More comfortable than he had been at Nadia’s, but it would be pretty damn hard to be comfortable when an ex was attending the same party as you.

“I guess you’re fine.” “Fine in what way?” Harry teased, the tip of his tongue barely peeking from between his closed teeth.

“Dear god Harry”, you murmured with a tone of annoyance, when really, you felt happier than you had been in…you couldn’t even remember when.

Suddenly, a feeling of dread came over you as you delved deep in thought. The plans for the night were over, making your time with Harry coming closer to a close for the night-or so you thought.

”Do you happen to have time to get ice cream with an insufferable person?” Harry muttered, keeping his eyes fixated on his hand that was pinching the fabric tablecloth. He seemed nervous. It was cute.

Harry’s eyes moved as he saw you in his peripheral vision. Nonchalantly, you glanced at the imaginary watch fitted around your wrist. You winced, making Harry shake his head at your antics. The beloved antics he missed so fucking much.

“You’re in luck, I...”, your eyes met his as you trailed off. Harry could feel his heart start beating twice as fast. “-just barely can fit in ice cream with an insufferable person.”

You finished off the conversation with a teasing grin as you and Harry stood to your feet, gathered your personal belongings, and headed for the main entrance. 

The city was quiet tonight, minus the ever-present traffic that seemed to always be in surplus regardless of what hour of the day it was. But you didn’t mind, especially when you were in the company of the person who made you feel like a high schooler with the most massive crush.

“This way”, Harry mumbled as his body turned slightly in the direction of the ice cream parlor. 

The walk was decently quiet, yet comfortable. Harry took the lead on the route, seeing as you had no idea where this place was. His jacket was zipped up to the center of his chest-you admired how it fit his upper body perfectly as he slipped his hands-that were once tucked away in his pockets-down to his sides.

Unfortunately, this peaceful moment would hit a roadblock. All because of a single flash bulb lighting up the dark sky.

Harry’s eyes flickered around his surroundings in search of the utter piece of garbage that was most likely hiding in a bush with a camera strap around his neck and a lens that was nearly a foot long.

That very rubbish wasn’t hard to spot as he stood leaning against a light post, very obviously zooming his camera in on both of you.

”I’m sure everyone will love those”, you tried to lighten the mood, sensing Harry was feeling a light breeze of anger towards the pap.

At the sound of your voice, his attention drifted from the man with the camera and back to you as he slipped you a soft smile. His chest visibly sighed as he looked in your direction.

“I can see the headline now. Harry Styles back with his ex-girlfriend”, Harry voiced jokingly with dramatic hands that smoothed an invisible horizontal line out in front of him.

“Kinda’ has a nice ring to it, don't ‘cha think?” you said with an emboldened feeling in your chest, yet your eyes didn’t dare to look him in the eyes as you said it. A blanket of silence fell over both of you for a moment as Harry stood, mouth agape and eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. “Yeah, I guess it does”, he nibbled his lower lip the moment the words got out. Harry mimicked your eyes that stared straight ahead. Ever so often, both of your hands would brush along the other. Neither of you pulled your hands away; instead, either of your limbs remained at your side as both of you allowed your hands to continue brushing across the others with every stride your legs made.

The rest of the nighttime stroll was a quiet one. The only noise being cars honking at one another in the distance and the crunch of your and Harry’s shoes as they traveled on the sidewalk. Eventually, you and Harry ended up in the brightly painted parlor as you recited your favorite orders to the cheery employee who had to hide the starstruck gasp from falling out of her mouth at the sight of Harry. Soon, both of you were walking out of the front door that rang with a soft bell with two waffle cones in hand. Again, silence started at first, but this time, ice cream was a great and very valid excuse for the quiet between the two of you. The moan that slipped ever so faintly from your lips at the first lick of the ice cream went unnoticed by you. For Harry, his ears immediately perked up at the soft, breathy noise as it released from between your open mouth. In his peripheral vision, he watched the way your soft pink tongue licked a stripe of the creamy desert - a drip of your favorite flavor falling on your bottom lip as you practically made out with the thing. Harry was embarrassed at how much it got a rise out of him; he could already feel a bulge begin to grow in his pants as his mind sifted through memories where your lips and tongue had been doing similar actions, except not on a frozen food item.

“How’s yours? You’ve barely touched it.” Your voice forced Harry to gather himself as he turned his face towards and glanced at the cone in his hand that was beginning to melt and seep into the palm of his hand. Quickly, he brought the desert to his lips and nodded in pleasure, but really, he was just saving face. Not that the ice cream wasn’t good - in fact, it was Harry’s favorite - more so, he had to shove away the reason he hadn’t touched his ice cream. It wouldn’t be very gentleman-like for him to admit he was picturing your lips around his-

“This is so fucking good. Holy shit.” Again, Harry did damage control that he hoped you weren’t aware he had to do in the first place. “Always is”, he said with a playful arrogance as the two of you continued walking until eventually ending up at a nearby park. The street lamps were warm, soft bulbs that cast the perfect hue that wrapped around the trees and park benches. You stood silent and took it all in, all the while Harry was taking you in with eyes that begged to know more. More about the time both of you were a part. More about the fact that he missed you every god damn day, despite everyone telling him in time he’d get over it. He never, ever got over you. 

“Can I ask you something that’s a little bit vain?” Your eyes focused on Harry as you noted he stopped walking and was now standing in front of you with his feet firmly planted on the ground.

“Sure?” you phrased as a question; Harry noted your suspicion right away as his mouth created a low, hummed chuckle.

”Did you ever think about me? You know- after you left, did you ever wonder what I was up to?” You snickered, “You’re right, that is very vain.” Harry tilted his head to the side and bit down on his bottom lip to hide his embarrassed smile. Though his expression was innocent in nature, you felt it go straight to the place between your thighs. “So is that a yes?” he reiterated, this time his eyes moved to his shoes as they kicked at an invisible object. Anything to make it look as if he was pursuing something else entirely, instead of anxiously waiting for your answer. Your mind traveled in time, re-living how long it took for you to even allow your fingers to tap out his name on a keyboard, let alone see his face on a screen. But it was difficult to shut him out of your life completely - he was everywhere, and not just as in “everywhere” in the media, though that part was also very true.

Harry lingered on your comforter that he swore was the ugliest shade of mauve he’d ever seen, yet always managed to steal out of your grip when you both shared a bed in your apartment that you once cohabited in. His smell still clung to your favorite sweatshirt… that was technically his sweatshirt, but you practically adopted it with how often you reached for the fabric and draped it over your frame. You washed the thing countless times, dosing it in various scent boosters and laundry detergents, yet he never disappeared - no matter how much you desperately wanted him to. ”It took me a while-”, you started honestly, “-but eventually…yeah..I looked into what you were up to and who you were up to.”

“Ah, is this the part where you roast my taste in romantic partners?” You shrugged. “I’ll keep my thoughts to myself on that one”, you spoke with a tease dripping from your tongue. Harry’s shoulders bounced up and down as he chuckled softly. “So what did you find during your mild stalking?”

“Oh, you wish, don’t you?” you rolled your eyes, yet didn’t completely give him a yes or no answer.

After a moment of pause, you continued.

”It was mild most of the time…unless I was drunk, or if it was Valentine's Day. That’s when I said fuck it.” Your tone was casual and humored - you could’ve sworn it would do the trick in masking the real emotions you felt on those nights where you missed him and that type of love that both of you shared. Harry saw right through the cover as he nodded solemnly with a soft expression. “That’s understandable.” You felt a shift in tone - now something sad-something painful-wrapped itself around both of you as you continued strolling along the night-lit street. You did your best to alleviate the mood and shift it back into the gear of friendly conversation you were both in early tonight. ”I think the thing that made me the happiest is when I saw you being happy.” Harry couldn’t hide his rose colored cheeks even if he tried. A smile wore itself well on his pink lips as he watched you out of the corner of his eye. “The photos of you on tours and stages - you looked so happy and content. I could tell you were doing really well, and that made me happy to see you like that.”

Harry knew you meant nothing but good nature, but what you didn’t know is the people he buried himself into just to cover up how much his heart hurt from the absence of you. How he wrote song after song about you, hoping and fucking praying that he would finally get you out of his system, only for his once nearly empty cup to again feel as if it were on the edge of overflowing with thoughts of you. Yes, some of those smiles were real. It wasn’t as if he never had anything good happen to him since or that he hadn’t felt an ounce of joy since the night you left. But what the photos could never convey is the regret he lived with daily. Suddenly, Harry felt sadness take over his once smitten ego. A sense of frustration and anger all swirled into a blizzard that begged to snow him in and have him buried underneath it for years and years to come.

What was he doing? Why was he entertaining this and you-as if you were something he could simply just have back after a night of sorry’s spoken. You deserved more than that. You deserved the fucking world. “Everything okay?” you asked with worry on your face as you watched Harry rake his nails through the hair on top of his head absentmindedly. He sighed audibly as his feet suddenly stopped their subconscious pacing. He turned his back on you and dug his heels into the ground, hoping it would somehow provide him with some feeling of stability again. “Harry?” you questioned again, only to be met with his gritted voice. “I can’t believe I could be this stupid.” Your brow crinkled in confusion, “What? Why are you-You’re not stupid.” you stuttered, watching the way Harry was clearly beginning to spiral inside of these thoughts-a look you had come to know well. “Why are you here with me?” he said suddenly with a tone filled with sorrow, as opposed to anger. “Why did you agree to this when... after everything I’ve-”, Harry couldn’t even get the words out as his breath began to come out in pants. “Hey, hey. Look at me”, you pleaded as your hands reached out to hold either side of his face.. He almost gave in. He wanted to succumb to the warmth and comfort of you, but he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve you. As Harry pulled away, your mouth fell along with gravity, in shock. You took a step back and examined your ex-boyfriend as he stood, clearly in a battle with whatever storm was forming in his thoughts. This felt personal-something so personal, you felt bad bearing witness to such a deeply intimate feeling of grief and frustration. “Do you want me to leave?” Your words made Harry’s panic suddenly stop, and his head turn in your direction. His eyes spoke volumes to you - they were reddened with tears that threatened to leak from his eyes, yet he didn’t quite dare to in front of you. Somehow, the green hue of his pupils still looked beautiful, even amongst the pain that was evident on his face. Harry’s eyes peered up towards the star-filled sky as he took a large breath in and out, before moving his sight back to you again. Cautiously, he walked closer until the tips of his shoes nearly kissed the tips of your own. He spoke with shakiness in his voice, “I don’t want you to leave.” His voice much softer and calmer than moments ago. “I just-I just want you to stop making me want you again when I can’t have you.” You could’ve sworn you heard Harry’s voice break towards the end, but he was quick to clear his throat and lower his head, making his expression hidden from your eyes. Over and over, you turned his last statement around and around in your brain-trying to see if you misheard or misread anything. “What did you say?” you said in disbelief. Surely you had to have heard him wrong. Yes, both of you had been, what some could possibly call “flirty” with one another. Yes, tonight you were on something that appeared to be a date with him. It wouldn’t be completely incorrect to say both of you were using tonight as a test run into the  ‘what if’, yet everything felt too good to be true. Things like this weren’t that easy to fix–were they? Your ex-boyfriend and you have a reunion, magically fall in love again, and live happily-ever-fucking-after. That’s how the fairytales say it always goes, but this wasn’t folklore. This was real, and it felt foolish to even imagine that something like that could happen. Yet, your mind couldn’t stop grasping onto the concept of all of this somehow going your way-just as the storybooks said it would. “Can you just-”, Harry began, but fought an inner battle within himself on whether he should say the question he desperately sought the answer to. At the same time, he feared the answer that you would give more than anything. That alone threatened him to keep his mouth shut for the rest of the evening, but he couldn’t keep it in any longer. 

“Tell me you don’t feel it too--just please--please tell me we’re never going to happen again so I can get the thought out of my head.” The seal had finally been punctured with a stab wound. The elephant in the room that you and Harry had both been conscious of, yet afraid to bring up until now, was free roaming. All you could do was stare at him and try to get a hold of the upward and downward movement of your chest that was quickening by the millisecond. “Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea.” Harry’s nostrils flared as his eyes looked at nothing in particular, as they blurred the world behind you together. “No”, your voice was coarse-so rough, it made Harry’s eyes widen as he re-focused on your stern face. “You don’t get to say how much you want me and then say this meeting up and getting dinner thing was a bad idea Harry. That’s not how this is going to go.” Harry was quick to jump in. “We’re over, so why does it matter to you any-” “If we’re really over, then why do you still look at me like that?” you interrupted, knocking the wind out of Harry’s chest, making his previous thoughts fall off the cliff's edge. With tears now streaming down your face, you continued. “Do you know how hard it is to keep my composure when you look at me like I’m the seventh wonder of the world? Do you, Harry? Because-let me tell you-it’s the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever had to do. This restraining myself from someone who clearly still loves me as much as I love them is so fucking hard, and I don’t want to do it anymore.”

As if on cue-triggered by a switch, the moment a wave of raw emotion and honesty swept over the night-a single rain drop tapped on your forehead as the last word lolled off your tongue. Then another, and another, until a steady stream of rain began growing until it reached pour down status. If this were any ordinary night, you would’ve cared about the rain touching your locks and creating a halo of frizz around the shape of your head, or your outfit getting dampened to the point where you knew you’d have to throw it in the wash as soon as you got home and found solace in a freshly clean pair of pajamas. But tonight wasn’t ordinary. It was anything but. And you weren’t sure how you felt about it. On one hand, there was some sort of closure happening here. Both of you now knew what the other was thinking and feeling during your time apart. You were no longer left to wonder if he gave you a speck of thought after you’d left, and Harry now knew you had been craving him just as much as he was craving your love that entire time. The hardest part was, what do you do after all of that is out in the open? There wasn’t a guide to this sort of thing. No college course or easy resolution. Probably a self-help book or two--but even then, yours and Harry’s situation was so uniquely both of yours, it was hard to know what the right move was from here. Or, if there even was a right move to begin with. You weren’t sure how long you’d both stood in front of each other in that dimly lit park that was now misted with rain, but one thing you were sure of was that you loved this man with all of your heart. Everything that happened in the past-it didn’t matter to you when you could so clearly see that he was a changed person who felt real remorse and recognized his wrongdoings. When you both first gave love a real shot, you were still fresh into adulthood with a far greater amount of childhood in either of you than the maturity that real-life, adult experiences naturally came with age. Harry knew he fucked up beyond belief. He recognised that he had a problem, and he worked to fix everything that he could when it came to his addiction. So why was it so hard to allow himself to fix what once bloomed between the two of you? And you. Why couldn’t you rationalize that he actually wanted you despite having an unlimited amount of resources when it came to wealth, material items, sex--basically anything he could ever want in life? Yet, here he was on a weekend evening with you, baring himself completely and feeling that shame that he couldn’t shed even with a lifetime worth of therapy. His biggest mistake was becoming the reason for your unhappiness. But how could he right that big of a wrong? Something he’d found himself repeating in his mind over and over as he got ready for tonight. The only true way to know was to give it his best shot. “Can I kiss you?” Harry’s words were sudden and whispered, like he was afraid the moment might shatter if he spoke them too loudly. Everything felt so vulnerable and sensitive, like a ticking time bomb that was teetering on the edge of explosion and annihilation. That’s what the potential of losing you felt like.  You stared at him, unreadable to Harry, yet you knew exactly what you felt. You were staring at someone who wasn’t just your person, but your favorite story that held a plot that you’ve been rereading since forever and still kept finding parts to fall in love with, even amongst the trauma and heartbreak.

He was a sacred book that you were daring to read through for the billionth time, except this time, you never wanted to put it down. Not now that you knew what life was like without him.

Your feet moved quickly–you weren’t sure if you walked, ran, or jogged– until your arms were wrapped around Harry’s neck and your lips were urgently pressed against his.

You know those moments that people talk about when it comes to a first kiss with someone? How does it feel like the world is stopping and your mind is completely empty except for the feelings of the present, and how this person is making you feel?

That’s what this felt like.

It wasn’t yours and Harry’s first kiss, of course, but, in a sense, it was. This kiss was coming from the same people, yet these two very people were different than who they were when they first kissed, fell in love, crashed, and ended.

Harry’s hands moved desperately as they clutched the fabric of the clothes that clung to your waist. He gripped you as if you were his life-saving measure–in some ways, that's exactly what you were for him.

Your lips parted briefly to take in air, and Harry instantly pulled your body closer to his and reconnected his mouth to yours. Your lips, still firmly locked with Harry’s, turned upwards into a smile.

The kiss naturally moved from its slow pace to something much less innocent, yet still held all of the real, raw emotions either of you felt over the years.

Harry deepened the kiss by parting his lips, instantly making you repeat his gesture and rub your tongue along his lower lip. He was quick to allow you access as his hand slid up into your hair.

This kiss was hungry with neither of you coming up for air, even when it meant you were gasping between moving your mouths together.

The one thing that got both of you to pull apart was a stranger yelling “Get a room!”, making you and Harry finally pull apart with panting breath and smiles on your faces.

You looked out into the darkness of the park with a brief moment of startle that quickly faded the moment your eyes returned to Harry, who was already staring down at you. You both stared at the other with chests heaving sporadically and smiles that spread wide along either of your faces.

“Well…that was nice.”

You giggled and nodded as your fingers began to run along the texture of Harry’s hair that lived at the back of his neck.

“It was. It definitely was.” You agreed with a nod and a shy smile. Only now had you come to the realization that it was still raining and you and Harry were properly drenched in the water from the sky, head to toe.

Harry took notice of the weather at the same time as you, his hands flattening his stomach as he felt the damp material that was beginning to contour against his muscles.

“I guess we should get out of the rain.”

You nodded in agreement as you let your hands fall from around Harry’s neck, instantly making him feel the coldness in your loss of contact. He missed you already.

“Yeah, I guess so”, you said quietly, already hating the thought of having to leave Harry after everything that had occurred tonight.

“Is it out of line to ask if you want to come back to mine? Only because I live walking distance, and you can throw your clothes in my dryer.”

Your eyes narrowed as a smile graced your lips.

“Oh yeah, of course. Just for the dryer and close proximity. Nothing else”, you humored him.

“Yeah yeah–exactly! Nothing more.” Harry played along with a cheeky smirk.

The walk to Harry’s place felt blissful.

You and he, hands intertwined, clothes soaked with the earth's tears, and a comfortable silence lingering between you both–everything felt as if it were, indeed, a fairy tale.

The moment Harry shut his front door behind him, after you walked through the threshold, you couldn’t help yourself. Your body crashed into his as your arms wrapped around his neck, just as they had nearly an hour ago when revelations became reality. With a thud, Harry’s back hit the door as your lips obsessively moved against his. And at this very moment, he felt totally and utterly consumed by you–every little piece. His touch was featherlight as his hands moved to your waist and pulled you closer until both of your hips gently collided.

Your hands moved to cup both sides of his face, deepening the kiss that was quickly turning from what was once sweet and innocent into something more erotic and sloppy.

To Be Continued