#sad!harry styles

[harrywavycurly]

I just know it’s gonna really hit me the moment one of the boys says something and then I’m gonna lose it.

[jesschalamet]

i’ll miss you forever, beautiful boy.

sleep well.🕊️🤍

[jezebelblues]

talk to me | h.s

summary: holland tunnel for a nose, it’s always backed up! or, harry struggles with sobriety after y/n leaves

cw: cocaine usage/addiction, angst!!! ex!harry, fem!reader, unedited. ladies imagine the vine boom sound as i dare to say.. toxic!harry 🤨

word count: approx 6.1k

| pls don’t read if you’re sensitive to substance abuse. this is pure angst. i literally wrote this on a whim after seeing the car photo on my tl.

harry was stubborn. but then again, so was YN.

he didn’t mean for things to end the way they did, he was stuck in a lull since love on tour ended. it was always the inbetween—purgatory, he would call it. a euphoria cut short, leaving him marooned in a space before the settle.

touring ignited his soul, an always occurring rebirth every time he steps upon the stage. but now it’s march, and he’s standing alone in the heathrow airport after his self-imposed exile in italy.

the air was crisp, biting, and tangled with the faintest trace of her perfume—vanilla, the one he'd bought her, the one she wore on the nights they'd venture out together. if he closed his eyes, he could picture her bathed in neon, colors playing on her skin like she was something holy.

if he thought hard enough, he could feel the phantom burn in his nose as it did in october. he could feel the warm trickle of blood drip down his cupid’s-bow if he overdid it. he could taste the metallic crimson that would slip past his lips and stain his teeth. he could remember the look of horror on her face as he shot her a bloody smile, eyes too dilated to come into his senses—too far gone.

but if he fished through his wallet, he wouldn’t find his old debit card—the one he had closed out in 2011 when his fame started to rise. it’s what he always used to form his lines, and remnants of the white powder were a staple on that card. a relic from a life he was beginning to lose control over.

after that night in october, when they got home, YN had snatched it from his wallet and cut it to pieces in front of him, her face twisted in anguish, not anger. she loved him, and that was the worst part.

a superstar like him could indulge, sure. a line here, a hit there—california sober, he used to joke. but as the tour ended, that fleeting thrill had turned into something darker, something that clawed at his insides when the spotlight faded. something he’d turn to for the semblance of exhilaration he had on the road.

so, now he was out of his lucky, unusable debit card. and, sometimes at night, he would think of the way the pieces are drifting around a landfill, scattered and forgotten.

but then he would think of YN. and no, that couldn’t compare, it wouldn’t.

he didn’t have to squint or fish through his contacts, she was just gone. and he knew it.

that night she had threatened to leave if he didn’t get sober, and harry fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around her bare thighs and begged her to stay. he could feel the lotion lift from her skin because of his tears, the way it burned his eyes. she had fell down to the floor with him that night, combing through his curls and whispering promises that she wouldn’t leave if he just tried. that’s all he had to do. they fell asleep on the couch that night.

harry thought he had gotten rid of everything. he had one slip up, and he remembered how YN’s eyes glossed over when she told him he had one more chance.

it was the day before halloween when she found a dime bag of the familiar white powder stashed away in one of his drawers—an afterthought. a remnant, a leftover.

harry tried to explain it wasn’t new, something that remained forgotten. he desperately followed her out to her car in the rain, holding the drivers door open as he pleaded. but she started the engine. she was leaving, and he knew it.

he remembers the way his frustration boiled over. maybe it was projection, withdrawal, or the pain of watching the love of his life walk away. but he had slammed the drivers door shut, slapping his palm against the window with a shaky sob as she drove off.

he hadn’t seen her since. he disappeared into italy afterward, hiding in his villa. he would have virtual therapy sessions every thursday, lots of which ended in his tears.

he knew he was blocked, he could tell by the way his blue messages no longer had the word delivered underneath them. because they weren’t. just conversations with a ghost. a stonewalled grave.

he had only started to come to terms with the end of their relationship in february, after his thirtieth birthday. there was no message, no phone call, no knock upon his door. he was just alone in italy.

harry thought about relapsing that day. he thought about calling a friend of a friend and falling into the vibrant world only the blow could offer.

but he didn’t, he called his mum. he called his therapist. he drank some wine, sang himself a somber happy birthday over a strawberry cupcake, and then slept for thirteen hours.

now he was at the airport in the heart of london. he only had his carry on, roses from the gift shop, and so many words left unsaid. the airport was unusually quiet that afternoon, the fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow over harry as he stood there, unmoving. london was a different reality, pulling him back into the damp chill of march and the weight of everything he'd left unresolved. he tasted a tinge of salt in the air, his nerves raw as he thought of her—the girl he'd lost, the girl he couldn't let go of.

he didn’t even know if she still lived in the same brick townhouse, but it was worth a shot. he didn’t really even think this through, he had enough clothing for about three days, and his car was about thirty minutes away from her place at his own house.

but he ubered there anyway, grateful it was only an older fellow who had no clue who he was. he would shove his nose into the flowers occasionally, smelling them with a gentle inhale. he shifted in his seat, turned his phone on and off with every passing minute to watch the time pass. he was restless, he was nervous.

her flat looked the same as it always did when he was dropped off, but there was a festive little reef still hanging on her door from christmas. a whisper of a smile tugged at his lips from that.

his own body felt heavier on his feet as he stood before her door, it felt like he could topple over and perish in that moment. harry thought it wouldn’t be the worst thing if he did, perhaps she would even miss him—no, he thought, tempting as it was—really messed up.

right?

he shook his head at his own thoughts, raising his fist to knock on her door. it was light, he wasn’t even sure if it’s something she’d hear. the brunette debated knocking again, harder this time, but he heard her voice behind the barrier.

“coming!”

he felt weak in the knees. it was her voice, no mistaking it. she was real, still here, just behind the door. YN’s voice felt like a fresh sherpa blanket, still soft and unused. it sounded like honey stirred into tea. harry really thought he could topple over at that point.

the door swung open and there she was, only a foot away after being hundreds of miles apart for so long. her hair was different, and she had a pair of glasses he hadn’t seen before resting on the bridge of her nose. her lips were parted, face drained of all color as she stared at him.

the words caught in harry’s throat, and he stood speechless. he only raised the roses toward her with a shaky hand, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

she looked down at the deep red flowers, then back into his green eyes. the eyes that were so familiar, eyes that took in every part of her being and imprinted into his brain. but the petals resembled the blood pooled between his teeth only a few months ago, the way it dripped onto her new dress as she eased him out of the club that night.

her throat ran dry as she swallowed hard, her stomach lurching and threatening to spill all over her porch and harry’s beat up sambas. “what–what’re you doing here?” her voice barely a whisper, both broken and brimming with something he couldn't place. she had missed him—he could feel it—but the anger lingered, a smoldering ember just beneath the surface.

the bouquet continued to tremble in his hands. “i had to see you.” he murmured, voice shaking underneath his nerves. he couldn’t hold eye contact with her, something he had never struggled with before. “i couldn’t—i miss you, YN.”

she pressed her lips together, the sight of him here in front of her resembling that of whiplash. it’s been five months, how do you even respond to that? he dropped off the face of the earth after she left, and she understood that to an extent. she’s the one who left, she’s the one who blocked him after he would constantly reach out.

she called his mum on his birthday, needing to reach out in some form, needing to know how he was. she begged her not to tell him that she phoned, something anne kept away from her son with an ache in her heart. “why now?” she mustered out, the pressure behind her eyes almost to much to bear.

he blinked, surprised by the softness in her tone.

he had expected a door slammed in his face, anger, roses thrown onto the snowy pavement. but this—a fragile, weary version of her—felt like a wound laid bare. the question hovered in the air, unanswered. he wasn't sure if he had the words to explain.

"i know i hurt you.” his voice cracked, breaking under the weight of his guilt. he hated himself for it—for leaving her, for drowning in his own mess, for not being stronger. "i thought maybe if i went away, if i fixed myself, i could come back."

"come back?” her laugh was bitter, sharp. "you think this is something you can just come back to, like nothing happened?" she shook her head, taking a step back, as if his presence was suffocating her. "you don't get it, do you? i spent my days worrying if you were okay, if i were going to find you dead on the floor next to a bag of coke. and now you just show up?"

harry flinched at her words, at the coldness in her tone, though he couldn't blame her. he had done this. he had broken this.

“i messed up," he said, his voice thick with desperation. "i know i should've done more. i should've been better f’you, but i wasn't. i’m trying now. i’ve been trying every day, YN."

she stared at him, her eyes glossed with unshed tears, but her expression was hard, unreadable.

she wasn't going to make this easy for him, and he knew it. she shouldn't. "trying?" she repeated, her voice dangerously quiet. "you’re trying now? after everything? after the lies, the broken promises? after you begged me to stay, told me you'd quit, and then i found that–” her voice broke, "–that bag? that was it for me, harry. that was it.”

harry opened his mouth to speak, but YN’s soft, wavering sniffle filled the space between them. her pretty eyes fell shut, and she muttered, “you should go.” the words barely made it past her lips before she closed the door, shutting him out in one quiet, final motion. no glance back.

for a moment, he just stood there, arm hanging loosely at his side, the roses brushing against his knee. his shoulders sagged as the reality settled—he had expected this, even told himself it was inevitable. but still, some desperate part of him had clung to hope.

with a sigh that cut deep, he turned, trudging down the narrow stairwell outside her flat. his heart felt like dead weight in his chest, and each step echoed softly, swallowed by the damp, early evening air. at the last step, he sat, letting his jeans absorb the chill from the wet concrete. he laid the flowers beside him, petals dark against the fading light, and clasped his hands in front of him, jaw tight as he fought the burning in his eyes.

harry couldn’t bring himself to go back to his house. he knew what waited for him there: bits and pieces of her, scattered reminders he couldn’t bear to see right now. a sweater still draped over his armchair. little notes she’d left him during the tour, folded scraps of her handwriting. even the faint smell of her perfume clinging to the blankets. no, he couldn’t face that.

he tilted his head back, gazing into the overcast sky. gray clouds swirled above, blurring the line between evening and night. he sniffled, noticing a modest inn just down the street, its sign hanging askew, light dimly flickering. it wasn’t much—a little rundown, with the look of a place that had seen better days. perfectly unremarkable. and right now, all he needed was a bed.

inside the hotel room, he dropped his backpack onto the chair and stood there, staring at the neatly made bed, the cheap, plush white blankets tucked in tight. the silence pressed in on him, too thick and heavy. without much thought, he shrugged off his jacket, toed off his shoes, and sank into the mattress, the springs squeaking under his weight. sleep embraced him like a reluctant lover, drifting in after nearly an hour of restless thoughts. but it didn’t stay. he awoke after just four hours, staring up at the ceiling as moonlight spilled in through the thin curtains, casting faint shadows across the room.

he groaned, reaching under his pillow for his phone, squinting as the screen lit up his face. only the usual notifications—nothing out of the ordinary, but still, he’d hoped. he didn’t know why. YN had been clear. she’d left no room for misinterpretation.

his fingers hesitated, then he opened her contact anyway. the photo still there—the one he’d taken on the tour bus last summer. a blurred shot from above, a silly close-up she’d protested, but they’d both laughed at it, something shared just between the two of them.

he typed the words, fingers slow, deliberate.

i love you.

his heart twisted as he pressed send, watching the message linger for a second before the familiar rejection—not delivered.

still blocked. still gone.

harry let his phone fall onto the mattress, dragging a hand over his face, groaning into the empty room. his chest tightened with frustration, desperation edging close to something frantic. he didn’t want to seem like he was clinging, but this couldn’t be the end, could it?

would it be futile to try again? sure. definitely in vain. he just wanted to give it one more try.

he sat up, slipping his sambas back on, the leather scuffed and worn from tour, loose enough he didn’t bother with the laces. he left the jacket where it lay, grabbed his wallet, and in a few determined strides, pushed himself through the door into the night, unwilling to let go just yet.

the cold bit at harry’s skin the moment he stepped outside, the wind cutting through his thin sweater as he walked down the dimly lit street. he barely noticed the sting. his breath puffed in front of him in small clouds, quickly dissolving into the frosty air. snow had begun to fall again, light flakes swirling under the streetlamps, but he didn’t slow down. each step was deliberate, his sneakers scuffing against the half-melted snow on the pavement, but his mind raced with a dozen unfinished thoughts. he hadn’t even grabbed his coat. he hadn’t thought it through.

he just needed to be close to her again.

the city was quiet, the usual rush dulled by the late hour and the snowfall blanketing everything in a soft silence. as he turned the corner toward her flat, his heart picked up speed, thudding painfully in his chest. her building was just down the road, its familiar outline coming into view. every step toward it felt heavier, each one laced with the weight of the unsaid things between them.

when he reached her street, he stopped for a moment, breath clouding the air in front of him as he tried to steady himself. his eyes scanned the row of cars parked along the curb, and there it was—her car, parked in the same spot it always was, snow gathering over the windshield, the roof, coating it like a layer of frost. the sight of it hit him harder than he expected. It was the last tether to her, something still close, something that made her feel real, just beyond that door.

but he didn’t go to her flat. he didn’t knock on her door. his feet carried him to her car instead, the snow crunching softly under his shoes as he approached. harry paused, standing before the vehicle, his breath hitching in his throat. his fingers hovered at his sides, the air biting into the exposed skin, but he didn’t care. the snow covering the windshield was smooth, untouched, and he stalled for a moment, the night wrapping around him like a blanket of quiet.

this was weird. he knew it was. but he couldn’t stop himself.

slowly, almost hesitantly, harry reached out, his fingertips brushing against the icy layer of snow on the glass. it was cold, stinging his skin as he dragged his fingers across the surface, but he kept going, his touch leaving a thin, delicate trail through the frost. he could feel the slight resistance as he wrote, each stroke of his finger deliberate, like the weight of his feelings pressed into every curve of the letters.

we should talk

the words were simple, almost too simple for everything he wanted to say, but they were enough. enough for a desperate message left on a windshield, at least—all he could offer now, standing out against the stark whiteness of the snow like a whisper in the dark. his hand lingered for a moment, fingers resting against the cold glass as if he could reach through the car, through the frost, and touch her somehow.

he stepped back, breath shaky, eyes fixed on the message he had left behind. the snow continued to fall, light and steady, the flakes already beginning to gather in the grooves of his writing, slowly erasing it even as he stood there. his hands dropped to his sides, curling into fists, and he closed his eyes for a long moment, the cold finally seeping into his bones. he felt exposed out here, vulnerable, like every part of him was on display in the silence of the night.

he also felt like he was doing something illegal.

but still, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. he looked up at her flat, the windows dark and still, like nothing inside had changed. for all he knew, she was asleep, completely unaware that he was standing here, just feet away. or maybe she wasn’t. maybe she was lying awake, thinking about him too, wondering what could possibly come next after everything they had been through.

the snowflakes clung to his hair, his clothes, but he didn’t move. he stood there, staring at the message on her windshield, his heart caught between hope and fear.

the words seemed to echo in the quiet, fragile and fleeting, like the snow itself. he didn’t know if she’d see them, or if the snow would bury them by morning, but for now, it was all he had left to say. he turned to walk away, his heart heavy but his resolve set. it was up to her now.

inside her flat, YN lay in bed, the dim glow of her phone the only light cutting through the darkness. she had been tossing and turning for what felt like hours, trying to force herself to sleep, but her mind kept circling back to him—harry. the knock at her door earlier had left her rattled, emotions stirring like a storm inside her. she’d shut him out, forced the door between them because it was the only way she knew how to protect herself. but it hadn’t stopped the ache in her chest.

the soft chime of her phone interrupted the silence, a faint buzz. she frowned, lifting it off the pillow beside her. the notification made her heart stutter.

ring doorbell: movement detected.

her stomach dropped. for a moment, she just stared at the screen, unsure of whether to open the app, her fingers hesitating. maybe it was just a stray cat, or the wind shaking the snow loose from the trees. but deep down, she knew. she knew who it would be.

with trembling hands, she tapped the screen, and there he was—harry. standing in the cold by her car, his figure a shadowy outline under the soft glow of the streetlamp. his hands were stuffed into his pockets, his head bowed slightly, his breath visible in the cold air. she watched, her heart pounding in her chest as he lifted a finger to the snow-covered windshield, slowly writing something in the frost. the words began to take shape, and she felt her throat tighten, her pulse quickening.

we should talk.

her heart constricted, emotions warring inside her. he hadn’t disappeared. even after she’d shut the door in his face, he was still here. the sight of him standing there, exposed to the biting cold without even a coat, tugged at something deep inside her—something she had tried to bury the night she walked away.

she swallowed hard, sitting up in bed, her fingers hovering over the phone for a moment longer. she could ignore it, let the snow cover the words he’d written and pretend none of this was happening—a biased fate. but she couldn’t shake the image of him standing there, shoulders slumped, his vulnerability written in the frost as clearly as the message itself.

with a sigh, she swung her legs out of bed and pulled on a hoodie, her mind racing. what was she even going to say to him? she was angry, she was hurt, but she also couldn’t deny the pull he still had on her. the years of love and heartache had tangled them together in a way that was impossible to untangle in one night. and now, he was standing outside her flat, waiting in the cold.

YN slipped on her shoes and grabbed her phone, her heart pounding harder with each step as she made her way to the front door. her fingers shook as she unlocked it, pulling the door open just enough to peek outside, the cold air rushing in.

there he was, standing by her car, his back to her, staring down at the message he had written, threatening to step away. his breath puffed in front of him, his head hung low as if he wasn’t sure what to do next. the sight of him, so lost and alone, tugged at her heartstrings in a way that made her chest ache.

“harry,” she called softly, her voice carrying through the quiet night.

he turned slowly, his face pale in the moonlight, eyes wide with surprise. for a second, he just stared at her, as if unsure if she was real or some apparition conjured up by his restless mind.

maybe he got frostbite and this is the last thing he’d see before decaying into the snow, he thought.

but then his expression softened, his shoulders relaxing just slightly, though the tension in his eyes remained.

she stepped out onto the snowy path, the cold biting at her skin as she approached him. “what are you doing here?” her voice was steadier than she felt, but the cracks in her resolve showed through.

“i–” he faltered, glancing down at the words on the windshield, then back up at her. “i’m sorry. i’m not stalker. i just–” he paused, sighing exasperatedly. “m’blocked and had to try.”

her breath caught in her throat, the rawness in his voice unraveling her. she looked down at the words he’d written in the snow, her heart twisting painfully at the sight of them. he was trying, she knew that. but it didn’t make it any easier. her chest tightened, memories of him crashing over her in waves—good ones, bad ones, all tangled together in a mess of emotions she hadn’t quite sorted through. she opened her mouth to speak, but the words jumbled in her mouth, only letting out a delicate, fleeting stutter. she wanted to stay strong, to protect herself, but looking at him now, standing in the freezing night without so much as a coat, the walls she’d built began to crack. “you don’t even have a coat,” she whispered, her voice softer now, laced with concern.

he looked down at himself, almost sheepish, his lips curling into the faintest of smiles. “i didn’t really think.”

her heart ached at the sight of him, so lost, so vulnerable. for all the hurt, for all the walls she’d tried to put up, a part of her still missed him—missed this. missed the sound of his voice, the way he always found his way back to her, even when things seemed broken beyond repair.

before she could stop herself, the words slipped out. “come inside.”

harry blinked, surprised, and for a moment he didn’t move, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. YN stepped aside, opening the door wider, the warmth from inside spilling out into the cold. “you’re freezing, and we need to talk,” she said, more firmly this time, gesturing to her snowy windshield he wrote upon.

he hesitated for a beat, then nodded, shuffling forward. she watched as he walked past her, his footsteps slow and unsure, like he was afraid the invitation might disappear if he moved too quickly. once he was inside, she closed the door behind them, the soft click of the lock somehow louder in the quiet that followed.

the contrast between the freezing air outside and the muted heat inside hit him all at once, his body tensing, unsure if he should relax. the space felt familiar, yet foreign—like stepping into a memory that had shifted in his absence. the soft hum of the radiator, the faint scent of her lavender diffuser, the quiet—all of it made his chest tighten.

he stood by the door, unsure of what to do with himself. his hands hovered at his sides before he stuffed them into his pockets, glancing around.

the apartment was exactly as he remembered, yet somehow smaller, more intimate. her big winter coat was draped over a chair, a half-finished cup of tea sat on the coffee table, and a pile of books lay stacked by the corner of the couch. there were still traces of their life together—small things, like the framed picture on the shelf they made together on a whim—glued seashells and colorful iridescent beads. the frame was still there, but the photo had been replaced, its new image hidden behind a layer of dust. he didn’t know what it was, all he knew is that he didn’t see the familiar photo of them at his mum’s house during christmas.

he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was erased, like a ghost she had swept away in her effort to move forward.

his throat tightened as he took in the subtle changes, the pieces of her life that had moved on without him.

she hadn't moved far from the door, standing with her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes flicking between him and the room, as if she, too, was seeing the space differently now that he was in it again. her silence isn't cold, but it wasn't inviting either. It was careful.

“you can sit." she murmured, nodding toward the couch, her voice steady but distant. "if you want."

harry hesitated, then nodded, slowly making his way to the couch. he moved carefully, as though the wrong movement might shatter the fragile understanding between them. he sat down, feeling the familiar creak of the old cushions beneath him. the last time he'd been here, he hadn't thought twice about dropping onto this couch, sprawled out with her beside him, both of them laughing at something ridiculous. now, every inch of space between them felt heavy.

she moved to the armchair across from him, settling into it with her legs tucked underneath her, but still keeping a distance. she watched him, her gaze cautious, as though waiting for him to explain himself. to fill the silence.

harry opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came at first. his mind was a blur, his heart pounding louder than the words he wanted to say.

he looked at her, really looked at her for the first time since he walked in. she seemed different, but not in a way he could pinpoint. her hair seemed softer, her glasses discarded, left upstairs on the nightstand. she had a new freckle he didn’t notice till now, and it immediately fell into the category of his favorite parts about her. “i don't even know where to start," he finally admitted, his voice low, breaking the stillness.

she didn't respond right away, just looked at him, her expression unreadable. "then why are you here?" she asked softly, her tone not accusing, but raw, like she was trying to understand. "you disappeared and now you’re back with no words.”

his breath caught, and he shook his head quickly, trying to explain. "no, i didn’t–” he paused, sighing, running a hand through his hair. "i didn't just leave like that. you left me, YN. that night, you walked out and–”

"–of course I did," she cut him off, her voice rising slightly. "you didn't give me a choice. i couldn’t recognize you. you relied on blow, harry. it wasn’t just for fun.”

harry flinched at the words, guilt settling like a heavy stone in his chest. he’d seen it happening, but at the time, he couldn't pull himself out of the spiral. "i know i fucked up. but leaving me? blocking me?—" his voice caught, raw emotion surfacing as he gestured helplessly. "y’just just cut me off. i had my slip ups, and i regret it immensely, y’didn’t deserve that. y’promised one more chance, and that i did. you found an old bag and didn’t even give me the benefit of the doubt.”

her face hardened, her arms tightening around herself as she shook her head. "i couldn't watch you destroy yourself anymore. that bag wasn't just an accident, h. it was a reminder of everything i’d been fighting to save you from. and you–you didn't see it. all you saw was me leaving, that’s it.”

his heart ached at the truth in her words, the weight of his failures crashing down on him. he ran a hand down his face, pinching his bottom lip, frustration and pain coursing through him. "i cared. god, i cared. but i didn't know how to pull myself out of it. i didn't know how t’fix what i was breaking. ‘nd then you were gone, and i didn't know how to–how t’do it without you."

the silence that followed was heavy, both of them sitting there, lost in the mess of emotions that had been left behind. YN looked away, her jaw clenched, her eyes misting over as she stared at the floor. the tension in the room was suffocating, the distance between them widening, and harry felt himself slipping, like everything he had come here to say was unraveling before he even had the chance.

"i didn't want to hurt you," he said softly, his voice barely a whisper. "i never wanted to be that person. i’m trying to be better, YN. i’m getting help. i’ve been sober since halloween. m’not perfect, but i’m getting better.”

her gaze flicked back to him, her expression softening just slightly, the anger fading into something quieter, something sadder. "you should have told me," she whispered. "i was supposed to be your person, harry. you shut me out, and I had to pick up your pieces on my own."

he swallowed hard, the knot in his throat tightening. "i know. and i’m so sorry. for everything. i’m here now because i don't want to lose you. not again."

she didn't respond right away, her eyes searching his face, as if looking for the man she had once loved—the man she wasn't sure still existed. but something in the way she looked at him, the way her guard wavered, told him that part of her still wanted to believe him. still wanted to believe in them. "you’re asking me to trust you again," she said finally, her voice small, barely above a whisper. “i don't know if i can."

“m’not asking for your trust.” his lip quivered, shaking his head as he slipped from the couch onto the carpet. he crawled over to her, sitting on his heels as he hesitantly raised his large, cold hands to her knees.

it felt like a shock, his touch in general and the temperature of his hands. his eyes burrowed into hers, as if silently gauging on whether he was crossing a line.

“i love you. even if y’never want to be my love again. i just want back in. i want to know you’re okay. i want to be able to send you a good morning text, or if you’d like to come to the studio like y’use to.” his voice almost sounded like that of a whimper, a stray tear falling from bloodshot eyes. “i can’t live without even a semblance of you in my life.”

she let out a choked sob, quickly wiping her fallen tears with the back of her hand. “don’t say that, harry.”

he ducked his head, leaning in to catch her averted gaze again. he rubbed small circles into her kneecap with his thumb, his voice cracking. “i don’t mean it a horrible way. yes, i can live.” he sadly chuckled, trying to backtrack how pathetic he must’ve sounded. “it just won’t feel like a life without you in it.”

her hand was hesitant, painfully hesitant as she stretched it out toward harry’s, softly lying it over his. she stared down at his hands, his skin warming just being against her, though his medal rings were still cool to the touch. she traced the veins with a shaky breath, shifting her eyes up his arm, past his shoulder, and finally onto his face. his cheeks were red, glistening in the warm glow of the lamp from his tears. his lips were swollen, hair disheveled and a bit damp from the melted snowflakes. “i want you in my life, too.”

his gaze was unwavering, all he could do was squeeze her knee gently, urging her to continue.

“slowly. friends, just friends. and we can see what happens from there.”

it felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders, a weight that only got heavier after five months.

he wanted to kiss her, tell her how in love with her he was. he wanted to hold her until the sun rose, he wanted to put their stupid christmas photo back into their diy picture frame. he wanted to kiss the ground she walked on and follow her around like a lost puppy. he wanted her to be his again.

but friends? it’s a start. it’s something he could live with. even if all she remained was his friend, he would still thank his lucky starts for her decision to come back.

he couldn’t control his tears at that point, moving his hands from her knees to loop his arms around in a makeshift hug around her legs.

it reminded him of the time he had begged her to stay.

but this time he wasn’t begging, he was thankful.

he nestled his head between her thighs as his shoulders shook from his sobs. she combed her fingers through his hair, softly shushing him and reminding him it’ll be okay.

her pink silk pajama bottoms dampened from his sorrow, a messy mixture of his tears, snot and saliva staining the fabric as he let out his loud whimpers, but she didn’t mind. her fingers fell from his curls onto his back, tracing soft circles into the trembling muscles.

his raw, unguarded grief tore her heart in two, each shuddering sob a reminder of the man she loved, a man who was struggling to rise from the ruin he’d left in his wake. and in the quiet of the room, as his sobs filled the space, she realized his tears, painful as they were—were stitching back together the shredded pieces of her heart.

he’s healing. he’s sober. he’s alive.

and that was enough.

[1d1195]

Neighbors Extra VII

Read Neighbors here | ~1.8k words

From me: surprise! This has been in my drafts since I finished the original storyline

Warnings: none

Summary: It's the first s'mores fire of the summer. She and Harry are in love with their little life. And Rory hates lying.

“Hey lad,” Harry said. They were sitting on the couch watching the latest Disney movie that Rory had been asking to watch. Harry paused it and Rory looked at Harry curiously. He wondered if he forgot to put his shoes away or a different chore that Mumma asked before she left to see his Auntie. “D’you remember when y’went to the hospital cause y’were sick... and we ate pancakes the next morning?”

“I remember. Mumma made chocolate milk,” he nodded.

“Right,” Harry chuckled. The real highlight of that morning it seemed. “Do y’remember me asking if I could date, Mummy?”

He thought for a moment and nodded. For Rory, that was a weird question when it was asked. But he didn’t think too much of it in itself because he was little. Also, Harry was his best friend, so he didn’t really mind because it just meant he got to play with Harry more often. “Yeah, I remember.”

Harry smiled, took a deep breath. “Do y’think you’d be okay with me marrying Mummy?”

“What’s that? Like have Christmas with Mumma?” his little brow puckered together. “We already do that Harry, silly.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. Rory was the cutest thing in the entire world. “That’s merry with an e, lad. I said marry with an a. D’you know what marry means?”

He shook his head. “I hearded it once in a movie.”

Harry smiled and looked at his hands a moment before he looked up at the now six-year-old. “I ask Mummy if she wants t’marry me and if she says yes, I have t’give Mummy a ring t’put on her finger. And then we would have a big party.”

“I like parties,” Rory smiled impishly nodding his head.

Harry laughed quietly again and nodded. “Me too. All of our friends and family would come and... well I’d be Mummy’s husband and she’d be my wife.”

Rory knew those words from kindergarten. His teacher had a husband. “Wouldn’t you be my dad, then?”

Swallowing nervously, Harry nodded. He was wondering if Rory would think about that. “Well, yeah, kind of.”

“I thought you already were,” Rory shrugged casually.

Harry chuckled. He could have cried if he wasn’t trying so hard to keep it together. “Well thanks, lad. I kind of think so too. This would make it a bit more real.”

“Would you and Mumma have another baby?”

“Maybe,” Harry smiled. He certainly hoped so.

“I think Mumma would like a girl,” he told Harry. “So then she would have someone to play with like I play with you.”

Harry smiled. “So I can marry her?”

“Does this mean you have to kiss more?” He wrinkled his nose.

“Probably.”

“I still don’t like kissing,” he grumbled.

“I know, lad. We won’t kiss that much in front of you.”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged. “You can marry her. Can we finish the movie?”

Harry pulled Rory into his arms and gave him a huge hug and kissed the top of his head. “I love you, Rory,” Harry said knowingly.

“I love you too, Harry,” he giggled.

*

“Mumma, do we have s’mores stuff?” Rory asked.

“Hmm... let me go look,” she said. “I’ll get some drinks, too. Do you want anything in particular, baby?” She asked looking at Harry.

Harry’s heart warmed at her kindness as always. “M’fine, kitten, thank you.”

“Careful around the fire, boys,” she said as she headed back for the house to look for supplies and drinks. Rory was sitting patiently by the fire while Harry kept an eye on him and the flames. Glancing toward the gate leading out toward the front he saw a single hand wave over top and then a thumbs up.

“Hey lad, d’you remember our conversation from a couple weeks ago? When I asked you if I could marry Mummy?”

He nodded watching the flames. “We’ll have a party, right?”

Harry chuckled. “Yes,” he nodded. “Would y’want t’help me ask Mummy?” He wondered.

He shrugged. “Sure!” He wasn’t doing anything at the moment. Mumma and Harry always said he was a really good helper too.

“Good,” Harry grinned. “M’gonna ask her when she comes back out. D’you think y’can give her this?” He asked, handing him a card from the back of his chair’s pocket compartment. He nodded. “Tell her y’made it at school and y’want to give it to her now,” he winked.

“That’s lying, Harry,” Rory pouted and shook his head. “Mumma doesn’t like lying.”

Shoot. Harry forgot that Rory was the sweetest little boy in the world. “You’re right. S’a little fib, I promise she’ll forgive you. This is the one time.” He wrinkled his eyebrows together and pursed his lips. Rory really wanted to help Harry. But he did not like the idea of lying to Mumma. She would get really mad. “I promise this one is okay,” Harry said again.

Rory sighed and nodded. “Okay... just this once though.”

Harry nodded and crossed over his heart. “Just this once.”

“Alright boys,” she said returning with her arms full, silencing Harry’s prep work. “I have the goods. Are we ready for the first s’mores fire of the summer?” She said wrinkling her nose so cutely as she settled the stuff on the nearby patio table. Harry glanced at the gate once more and then back to her.

“Here, love,” Harry said moving to her side and pressing a hand on her lower back. “Let me,” he smiled. “You sit,” he said pressing a kiss on the side of her head so gently she wondered what that was all about. It was just s’mores. And she liked s’mores. She was good at making them and didn’t mind in the slightest. But it was nice as always for Harry to just do things for her after so many years of having to do everything on her own. Even when he did little things like scooping Rory up from his car seat or carrying the groceries in, it just made everything so much easier for her.

She thought about the month and a half she tried avoiding Harry. It was by far the stupidest thing she had ever done, and she wondered often what would have happened if she never got over her silly fears. But fortunately, she didn’t have to worry long, because Harry was right there, making s’mores for her and Rory like he always did.

“Mumma, I made this in school,” Rory said suddenly pulling her from her thoughts. Rory looked at Harry impishly as he handed the envelope to his mum. Good thing this would be the only lie. He was a little worse for wear on the delivery.

“For me?” She smiled curiously and took the envelope in her fingers. She slid open the top.

“Uh-huh,” Rory giggled sheepishly.

Harry glanced at the gate again and then held his breath as she pulled the card from the envelope. “What’s it say, Mumma?” Rory giggled and if she hadn’t already been reading the words on the card, she would have realized Rory had no part in this little scheme.

She turned suddenly after her eyes scanned the card once and she looked at Harry with wild eyes. “Harry?” She asked nervously.

“Harry said I could lie,” Rory said quickly seeing her discomfort and was worried he would get in trouble. He didn’t like it when Mumma was mad at him. Mumma was the best and didn’t ask Rory to do anything except to not lie. “Just this once,” he promised.

“That’s okay, love bug,” she said softly barely looking at him as she did. Relieved that he wasn’t going to upset Mumma, Rory sat back in his chair and waited for Harry to do whatever it was that he wanted to do.

For once, she ignored Rory. Her eyes stayed on Harry as she felt her heart nearly beat out of her ribs. “What does it say, beautiful?” Harry smiled. His eyes were so gentle.

“It says ‘Life is s’more fun with you, will you spend the rest of it with me?’” She read carefully.

Harry bit his lip. “It is s’more fun with you,” he repeated, and he moved in front of her chair and knelt between the fire and her. “Will you marry me?” It was amazing Harry could be so hopelessly in love with her and have her still be so surprised that she was deserving of love that was so all encompassing, Harry sometimes wondered how he could stay upright.

“Really?” She whispered breathlessly and her eyes darted to Rory so briefly, but Harry still caught it.

Harry chuckled. “Yes, really, you silly, sweet thing,” he rolled his eyes. “M’horribly in love with you and would like t’spend the rest of our lives together,” he repeated. “Please marry me?” He repeated.

“Are you sure?”

“Jesus Christ, just say yes!” Her sister’s voice distinctly called from the front gate.

“You brought my sister here?” She asked with a teary giggle.

“Auntie?!” Rory shouted and ran for the gate.

“Um... I brought everyone... I really anticipated you saying ‘yes’ a lot quicker than this,” he chuckled awkwardly. Rory opened the gate, and the entourage of people Harry invited came through the gate. Her eyes lifted to look at them so briefly she barely saw who was in attendance. Her eyes returned to Harry knelt before her waiting expectantly for her answer. “I’ll beg if you want,” he said softly with a grin.

“Mumma, look! Grandma’s here!”

She smiled and waved to her mom standing beside Anne and Gemma who were watching with such happy smiles. “You really want to marry me?” She asked softly. As if no one was in the backyard except her and Harry.

“Very badly,” he nodded, and he pulled the box from his pocket. “Maybe this will help,” he smiled gently. The diamond glittered in the sun so beautifully. Harry was wonderful. He always was and this was no exception. But she closed the box quickly as she answered.

“I’d marry you without it,” she whispered.

He chuckled, shook his head at her. “So that’s a yes?” Harry had never felt so happy. He didn’t think she would say no, but he knew she could convince herself she didn’t deserve happiness if he gave her enough time.

“God, yes,” she nodded and giggled excitedly. She leaned forward as Harry moved toward her as well and kissed her sweetly on the lips.

“You said no kissing!” Rory called.

She laughed against his lips, ignoring her son’s protest and continued kissing Harry. “I’ll love you forever,” she promised.

Harry grinned, nodded, and kissed her again as he mumbled against her lips. “And then some.”

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissinthekitchen @boopookie @stylesfever @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060 @triski73 @vikiii07 @prettygurl-2009 @madstyles3204

@angeldavis777 @tchlamqtsgf @lizsogolden @me-undiscovered @you-sunshine

@rose-girls-world @claimingharrystigertattoo @inlikea-coolway @theseaview @lunaharrygurl

neighbors taglist: @mopeymousey @vmpellie

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[cupidsdolll]

The Feeling Came Late Masterlist

grumpy!college student!Harry x fem!sunshine!reader

Harry hates Y/N, it seems like it's been like that forever. He's quick to insult and correct her even when she's right, he's just always been the only one to pick on her no matter what she does. She doesn't understand why it's like this between them or what she did to make him dislike her so much, but what if it's all just a lie?

fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, enemies to lovers

the playlist ♡ pinterest ♡ teasers

Prologue

When You Are Young, They Assume You Know Nothing

[writeoffside]

SILENCE HAS OVERTAKEN

♯ harry styles x fem!reader - angst / sad

summary: Harry doesn’t trust himself by talking to you , he wants to keep you safe but it really isn’t helping any of you.

warnings: arguing, swearing, nightmares, kissing

info: english isn't my first language, i apologize in advance for all the mistakes (if there are any!)

a/n: first post on here, enjoy !!

The days had gone by since the last ‘i love you’ has been spoken between the two so-called lovers. The silence has taken over the sweet and loving house they used to call a home. It has no longer been a home. For neither one of them.

The uncomfortable silence during the dinners everynight was heavy. The only sound during this time could only be the knives and forks sounds scraping over the plates. Neither one of them even bothered to start a talk, not even a small one.

Everytime he finished his food, he would drop his cutlery on the side and leave the table without a word. Not even bothering to say a little ‘thank you’ for preparing the table, making the food or anything.

All the nights were terrible. Terrible couldn’t even be the word to describe how unpleasant the nights were. 

When he would leave the dining room, he would mostly go to his room or his studio and lock himself there. After locking himself away from everything, the uncomfortable silence would take over the house again. 

It was all just silence.

“Harry! C'mon! Are you fucking mental?” The screams echoed around the house. There was no more of silence. Only the sounds of screaming, yelling, swearing and throwing words around.

“Me? Fucking me? Y/n, you’re the one who started this shit!” I screamed loudly, hitting the top of the counter with my palm. Hissing the moment my hand met with the cold surface of the countertop. 

I had enough of this shit and all this arguing.

“Y/n! For fuck’s sake! You've been saying all this shit for so damn long! Don't you think that you’re the main problem there?” I yelled back at her, my last sentence echoing around the house. My eyes burning into hers as my knuckles turn white from gripping the side of the counter. 

“Fuck you, Harry! You've been locking yourself away from me for weeks now and when I wanna talk to you for a damn minute, you start all this!” She throws her hands in the air, pointing at me and her. 

Between us. 

I see a tear slip down her cheek and she quickly wipes it off with end of her sleeves. Her eyes are fully watery and her hands are shaking as she stands there in front of me. 

“Screw you, Y/n! Fuck you seriously! This is all your fault. If you wouldn’t be there, everything would have been fucking fine! Don't you see that you're the problem between us? Hell... I don’t know what else to say! Fucking hell!” I yell out. My hands are now digging into sides of my head as i close my eyes, my teeth biting into my lower lips as I manage to draw out blood—

I suddenly jolt awake. A gasp coming out of me. My hands gripping the sheets as I sit up, eyes flying open. 

Shaky breaths coming out as I try to catch my breath from the dream… No, a nightmare I've just had. 

Sweat drips down my naked back, as I sit and breathe. Closing my eyes and digging the palms into my eyes as I take deep breaths and try to stbilize myself. My heart beats quickly.

This isn’t the first night I've had this exact same nightmare. It has been happening for weeks now. 

And it's all my fault.

I push the sheets off my legs and stand up. My whole legs feel like they are about to break down just there. I cannot even stand straight.

The world is spinning around me as I try to stand. I breathe out as I collapse back onto the bed.

I sit at the edge of the bed, hands holding the sides as I lean myself over and close my eyes. I suck in a breath and let my eyes close for a brief moment. 

I sit still. The only sound I can overhear is my breathing and quiet ringing in my ears. 

My head feels like it will explode anytime soon.

“Fuckin’ hell…” I mumble under my breath as I once again try to stand up. My body swaying a bit, my feet waddling over the cold floor. My head spins when I reach towards the handle and pull it to open. 

Then I'm suddenly met with a person standing right in front of me. 

Their eyes wide opened as they stare back at me in shock. Their mouth drops a little when their eyes make a full eye contact with mine. My hands start to sweat as I hold the handle of the door. 

“Harry…” She mumbles out into the darkness of our house. The voice coming out soft and calming to my ears. She stands still and she doesn’t reach her hand to brush my cheek like she usually does, or doesn’t lean in to plant a little kiss against my cheek or right on my lips. She just stands still, her eyes deeply looking into mine. 

It feels like I've been staring into them for hours, falling into them. 

“Hey...” I whisper out, my voice coming out raspy. I lean myself against the doorframe, hand leaving the door handle and I cross my arms over each other against my chest. My legs still feeling wobbly and I feel like i'm about to break down just there and fall down right in front of her. But i stay still. 

“What... What are you doing here? It's late…” I mumble out, my eyes holding the eye contact, deeply staring into her orbs. 

We haven’t spoken for days now. I haven’t talked to her in multiple days in a row. I haven’t looked into her eyes. I did nothing. 

Absolutely nothing for her.

She shifts from one leg to other, clearly uncomfortable. My stare stays put on her as I await for her to answer. My eyelids feel heavy but I keep them up just to see her beautiful face. I wouldn't want to miss a second. 

I haven’t appreciate her in days. I haven't seen her, haven’t complimented her, haven’t kissed her… 

I've done nothing. 

“You've… Um... You've been doing something in your sleep," she says, her stare shifting away from mine. Turning her head to look into the hallway, ignoring my hard stare. 

She sways a bit, back and forth slowly.

“What?” I question her and shift a bit on my legs. Already slowly growing anxious over this conversation... I haven't spoken to her in weeks and this must be our first conversation in such a long time.. In middle of a night, her standing in her night pajamas and me leaning onto a doorframe with just a pajama pants. Sweat still dripping down my back from the usual nightmare.

“You've been screaming a lot in your sleep lately... Especially my name, Harry," she answers quietly , her voice so small that you couldn't even properly hear her if I wasn't that close to her. 

My stomach turns as she answers.

“Oh…” This was the answer she probably wasn’t expecting to hear. 

“Oh?” She repeats my answer and turns her head back towards to me. Her eyes coming back to mine as we stare at each other.

I missed the nights we used to sleep next to each other, when I could hug you, kiss you, tell you how much I love you. I just couldn’t bring myself to hurt you in any possible way. I don’t want to continue our relationship like this. I want us back.

I wanted to say to her. Wanted her to hear how it’s tearing me by being like this. Away from everything. Away from her. 

“Harry," she whispers to me, tearing me away from my thoughts. She breathes out a small breath as I stare down at her. 

“I'm sorry..” My words come out in a broken whisper. A breeze runs down my back. The hairs on my neck and arms stand up. And then it comes.

I suddenly break down.

I take a step towards her smaller frame and push myself against her. My arms sneak around her body and pulling her against me. My face falls against her crook of her neck and I hunch myself, letting my body collapse. Taking her scent in. 

I tighten my hold against her body and hug her the way I never did. My face lays against her neck as I breathe out.

I feel her shoulders move and then i feel it. Her smaller hands on my back as she holds me back. Her head moves a bit and I can feel a small kiss being planted on top of my head. 

Tears run down my cheeks and sobs fill the silence in the house. My body aches and shakes against hers. My eyes are shut and tears run down like waterfalls. 

My legs feel like they’re about to break against the hard wooden floor and fall down with my whole body. Shaking as I stand against her and the silence is fully overtaken by my cries and sobs.

“Shhh... It's okay. Let it out," she mumbles against my hair. I start to shake my head, disagreeing quickly to her.

“No... No, Y/n. It's not okay.. I was, no, I am a fucking idiot! I'm- I'm sorry, okay? I wasn’t thinking. I don't know…” I stutter my words out, pulling my head away from the crook of her neck. My eyes running all over face.

“I was scared? I didn’t know what to do," I take a step away from her, my voice shaking as I spill my truth out to her, “I wasn’t thinking! I didn’t want to hurt you," i tell her with broken voice. 

“Hurt me? Harry, what do you mean?” She asks in her soft tone. Her sleepy but adorably beautiful and blown out eyes look straight into mine. Her eyes are searching for something in my eyes. She can see that I'm scared. 

She can see the fear in me.

“No, no, no…” I mumble out, my eyes shutting as I walk back into my room. My hands fly upwards to start gripping the side of my head, “You.. You don’t understand, Y/n. you won’t understand it," I cry out as I walk around my room stressfully.  

“Harry. I'll try to understand," she answers and walks towards me. Then she slowly and softly touches my cheek. Holding her palm against my cheek. Her eyes finding my teary ones.

“I just… Don't want you to get hurt because of me," I whisper to her, looking into her eyes. Finding the much needed comfort in them. My tears are stained on my cheeks and some are still trying to escape the hold of my eyes. 

“Harry... I want to help you. But, you need to explain to me what has been going on with you lately. You lock yourself away from everything and don’t even say a single word for days," she says, looking into my eyes and putting both of her palms against my cheeks. I lean into her touch, closing my eyes for few moments. 

I take a deep breathe and answer, “I know... I am just scared. I keep having this dream. Every damn night. And it scares me, fucking terrifies me," I open my eyes looking straight at her, “I don’t want to hurt you, or loose you. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. I feel so fucking bad for ignoring you, it has been tearing me," I breathe out, putting my hand over her hand on my cheek. 

My voices shakes through my answer. My vision is blurry from all the crying and I cannot form my sentences without stuttering or sobbing in between the words. All the fear is going on me as I talk more and tell her all the truth what has been holding me for past few weeks. 

“I snap a lot... in the dream. And I don’t want it to happen in reality as well. I snap and I say something that I would never say, never," I say, my voice shaking and my hands trembling, “sometimes I don’t wake up and it end up worse. I snap at you and I end up doing something what I would never plan on doing to you,” I whisper the last part, my eyes closing as my voice tremble. I tremble uncontrollably as I tell her the truth. 

“Harry... is that why you’ve been ignoring me?” She whispers, her eyes searching in mine as we stare into each others eyes deeply, "why didn't you tell me? I would try everything I could to help you, or at least try to help you," she moves her hand to my hair, gently holding me. My lips are slightly parted and I take deep steady breaths. 

My eyes close for a moment and I put my forehead against hers. Our breaths matching each others.

“I love you so so much, sweetheart," i whisper into the silence, “so fucking much,” the words spill themselves into the darkness of the room we’re standing in. 

“I love you too, Harry… so much.” she whispers back, “but you don’t have to be scared. you won’t hurt me, i know you too well..."

Then I feel it.

I feel her soft lips against mine. She kisses me against my lips for the first time in the weeks. Slowly leaning in, I kiss her back deeply. Showing her all the love i’ve been holding back. Her lips are like made for me. Our lips collide together as we quietly kiss in the darkness of the night. Her hands slide from my cheek to the nape of my neck and she pulls me closer.

“You don’t have to hide now, Harry. You wouldn’t hurt me. I'm here and always will be," she whispers to me. Her voice soft and quiet, like a dream.

“I'm so fucking sorry for locking myself away. For not being there for you... I'm so sorry. I love you so fucking much," I pull away slowly, my eyes fluttering open.

“Just... If you’re going through something… anytime, please tell me," her words get to me. 

“I will, I will... My love," I whisper to her. Tears, once again, forming in my eyes. 

The two lovers found themselves slowly rebuilding the connection between each other, what they both have thought that they've lost. The silence has been finally broken by the lover's confessions of his unspoken fears. 

my first writing on here! (don't ask me why my first ever writing was a sad one hahaha) hopefully you enjoyed it as much as i did writing it! :)

give it some love if u liked it !! yayyy

[karlrincon]

Liam payne 🕊️

[specklelouis]

happy birthday one direction!! 🥳🎉🎂🩷😭✨ (it’s the boys in little mix outfits)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Detectives at the Disco (Elysium)

[baby-girl-aaron-dessner]

Wasn’t expecting that Taylor Swift would expose Harry Styles’ superficial behaviour but I live laugh love it.

[writingsfromhome]

If you Love Something

A/N: this has been an idea sitting in my drafts for a while. You and Harry had a brief but intense relationship as teenagers, were forced to make a serious decision then, and it’s aftereffects have lingered for the rest of your lives. It deals with some heavier topics so read with caution (alcoholism, depression, unwanted pregnancy etc). I’d describe it as sad but hopeful.

Part 2

—————————————

Age 17.

It started in secret. We’d found each other on the roof of a house party. Truth be told, I saw him sneak out of the window where people were crowded around the TV watching some controversial music video I hadn’t heard about. And I’d followed.

I knew who Harry was. Had him in English, Maths, and Biology last year. He was well spoken, thoughtful, and silly. I never spoke to him once though. Only admired him from afar.

Tonight I had my first drink and then another. I was feeling buzzed and despite being painfully shy for most of the time I’d known everyone here, I was suddenly gripped by the realization that we were approaching the last year we would all be together. Why had I waited this long to pursue someone I thought was cute?

I snuck out after him, when my friends weren’t looking. I even tilted the window more closed than usual so no one would suspect anything; I had the attic room at home so I knew how to maneuver the angled roof to get comfortable.

“You need any help?” Harry’s voice is clear in the silence.

“I’m alright.” I stand up to peer at him. He’s climbed near the top.

“Sure? You don’t seem steady.”

“Oh I’m steady,” I prove it to him by climbing up to where he was. “See?”

“I’m mistaken. My bad.” He holds out a hand to help me sit beside him and the night sky flashes brighter for an instant when I grasp his hand. My stomach is in knots.

“Harry. Styles.” I don’t know why I say his full name but I was nervous.

He repeats my full name back to me. I don’t know why I’m surprised he knows it. It’s not like we went to a big school.

“What brings you out here?”

I try to be bold about it, “You?”

“Party was getting too much.” He says. I stare at him in confusion while he complains about something his friends had gotten up to.

I replay my answer and realized it sounded like I’d skipped answering his question and asked the question back. Bugger.

“You know my name.” I interrupt him, forgetting he was telling me a story. Awkward.

“Yeah? Of course I do.”

“We’ve never talked.”

“We talked. Once in Maths. We had to grade each other’s answers.”

Oh yeah. I burn when I remember the 4/10 he’d given me with a smiley face saying that maths was masochistic.

“Barely.”

“I know you though,” he says with a softness that makes my heart stutter.

“Do you?” I look to him, resting my chin on my shoulder. He gazes down at me and I swear I could taste the colours around us.

His eyes draw me deeper as he inches closer. Was he going to kiss me? Oh my god.

I look back out to the roof and he jerks away. Omg.

“I do.”

“Oh,” I don’t know what to do after that awkward moment.

“I know you’re really quiet and shy but your smile is so loud you can see it from across the room.” He says and my breath catches as he continues. “You’re yourself with your friends, you really like Harry Potter and field hockey. You would kill Mal Adams if you could get away with it and you hate Maths just as much as you love art. You’re dating Oli Graves but your smile is only ever shining half as bright when you’re around him. Can I go on?”

I stop breathing completely halfway through his declaration of knowing me. All this time I had my eye on him, I didn’t know he was watching me too.

“I didn’t ask you for your opinion on my relationship.”

“You didn’t. I didn’t give you one either.”

I glare at him. He was right. He smiles knowing he was. I’m mad that I’m not mad at him. That he was right.

“What are you doing with a guy like that?”

Oli and I had been dating for 7 months now. He was loud and fun in a way I wish I could be. That’s why I liked him so much. That’s why I was at a party like this to begin with.

“He’s a good guy.”

“That’s all?” He asks. I look over but he’s looking up at the sky. I follow his gaze and get lost in the great expanse of nighttime.

“I think you deserve someone who sees you. Don’t you?”

“Did Ally see you?” I ask with a hint of aggression I didn’t mean to have.

“Ally and I broke up during Easter. So there’s your answer.” He’s unbothered.

“Well what do you want?” I ask.

“Right now? Or in life?”

I shrug. “Both?”

“I want to explore the world and meet all kinds of people. I wanna make the world a better place by being in it. It’s cheesy as shit so if you ever said I said this I’ll deny it and you’ll look like-“

“My lips are sealed.” I turn his way to promise him that. It makes me laugh at how serious he looks saying it all and when I do his face relaxes.

“You laugh is nice too. I forgot to mention that.”

That quiets me very quickly.

“And right now,” he continues. “I’d really like to kiss you.”

My ears ring. Did I hear him right? Could you get so drunk you hallucinate? I swear the cold air had sobered me-

“Did you hear what I said?” Harry’s moved in closer to me. Did I? I don’t know.

“What d-“

“I’d like to kiss you.”

I nod, afraid to talk and realize I’d hallucinated him saying that.

The world melts away when he kisses me. It’s tender, nothing like Oli and his jagged pushy kissing. In the nighttime air it’s warm, and soft, and easy.

“I know you,” Harry says when we part. I’d nearly climbed into his lap and I try to edge away, embarrassed, but he keeps a hand firm on my thigh.

“I know you too Harry,” I breathe. He smiles and it crinkles his luscious eyes.

I think I was falling.

***

We keep it a secret after I break up with Oli. For months, until mid-August when I invite him over for dinner after my mom insists on meeting “the boy I was all doe-eyed over”. The night with my family goes so well—Harry is the picture of a courteous gentleman that even my sister is swayed by him despite saying boys were gross. I ask him to hang out, in public, the next day. He doesn’t hesitate to say yes.

That’s what I love about Harry—yes love. He’s not pushy, he lets me go at my own pace. He respects me and sees me for everything I am and loves me anyway. I wanted to spend my whole life with him.

It was so intense and relaxed at the same time. It felt like no relationship I’d been in before. I felt different being with him, even my friends noticed.

When final year started, Harry and I were official but we didn’t flaunt it. We didn’t need to. My friends knew about us and they were happy for us, they told me I was more me. Whatever that meant.

Life was phenomenal and I was living in a dusky haze. Nothing could touch us.

Until one day in February. I was out with my sister, mum didn’t want to take her out and since I recently got my driver’s license with plenty of lessons from Harry, I was driving her to the mall. She needed Valentine’s Day cards.

“I thought you said love is stupid.” I remind her on the way.

“It is.”

“So why the hell am I driving you to buy cards for a made up holiday?”

“Because!” She crosses her arms and stares out the window. I flick her arm at a red light.

“You have a crush.”

“I do not!”

“Do too. Who is it? James? Mattie? Hamid?”

“Ew! They’re freaks.” My sister continues staring out the window.

“Why do you want to buy cards so bad!?”

“I just want them! For my friends!”

“Okay then,” I didn’t believe her. But I couldn’t bring her home crying or mum would ground me.

A lot of places have slim pickings. Wandering the aisle of Waterstones I catch sight of a family friend. She was my dad’s uni friend’s daughter, a few years older than me but by the time I got to secondary she had dropped out after getting pregnant. I remember the buzz when everyone found out.

I avoid her and find an aisle to occupy myself.

Harry and I were always careful, mum had already given me the talk and he never pressured me to do anything I didn’t. I imagine Harry as a dad. He would make a good one I think.

As one thought leads to another I go cold as I realize something. My last period was during the holidays.

I feel like I’m walking in a swarm of locusts as I walk to the edge of the aisle, scanning for my sister. Maybe I can pop into a pharmacy before she’s done. Maybe…

This was crazy. It was probably just a missed period.

But if it isn’t, another voice asks. I felt it in my gut. I had to do this.

I don’t remember getting home. I don’t remember anything about the rest of that day except two faint lines, and then two faint lines again, and a third time. I fall asleep before dinner that night and shut the world out.

***

“I know something’s wrong.” Harry’s walking me home after school. It’s Valentine’s Day and he’d been nothing but sweet. He bought me chocolates, flowers, and we planned to cook dinner together after school. I had bought him chocolates too, and had written him a heartfelt note with a bunch of photos of us weeks ago. The box was in my room, waiting for tonight. “Do you not like the flowers? Or is it dinner? We can go out somewhere instead?”

“No everything’s lovely.” I’d never heard Harry this desperate before. It gets under my skin even though part of me knows that’s not really it. But having him hover over me all week trying to figure out what was wrong was too much.

I’d spent every night this week with a hand over my belly. Thinking about it. I hadn’t told anyone. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. All I can think of was Jenny and I didn’t want that life. I couldn’t. I couldn’t be a mother.

“Please. What’s the matter.” Harry asks again, tugging at my hands but I pull them away.

“I just need some space!” I shout and he flinches. “I’m sorry Harry. I just need space right now.”

“Right now like…” he scratches his head. “I don’t get you. It’s Valentine’s Day, we’ve been talking about this day for weeks what do you mean you want space?”

“I can’t do this right now. Please.”

“Are you-are we…”

“I’m not breaking up with you.” I look at Harry with tears in my eyes, I didn’t want to cry out here. But every time I look at him I remember the reality. What’s growing inside me. I can’t take it. “I just can’t do today.”

I go inside my house. Leave him without further explanation. I feel awful, I can’t hold the tears in long enough to get to my room.

***

“Hey love?” My mum and dad knock on my door at half past 5. I lay in the dark, having cried myself dry. “We’re worried about you. Can we talk.”

“I can’t.” I say, voice stuffy.

“I thought you and that boyfriend of yours had plans,” dad says. He liked Harry but he rarely called him by his name. “Did something happen?”

“No!” I wanted them to leave me alone. “I just. I had to cancel. I’m fine.”

“Don’t sound fine to me love,” I feel the mattress dip as mum sits down. Dad strokes my hair. They whisper something I can’t hear and a pair of footsteps pad out of my room.

“Mum just leave me alone.” I try again.

“I’m not.” She pushes me further into my bed and leans down, tugging my blanket down. When I finally look at her she smiles kindly and kisses my forehead. That fills me up enough to start wailing again. “Oh love, what’s wrong?”

“Everything!” I sob into my blanket. Mom lays down beside me and I let myself be cradled like a child. God, I had a child. This was so fucked.

“Talk to me. We can figure it out together.”

I don’t know how my parents would react. They were never particularly strict, especially after what happened with Jenny I remember them always being sympathetic. We even visited her in hospital with a gift.

Mum strokes my hair and whispers that it’ll be okay. Slowly my sobbing eases into light sniffles. I had to tell her. She would know what to do. And if she hated me for it, I would just have to deal with it.

“Mum don’t be mad-“

“I won’t honey I-“

“No. Mum.” I cut her off. She moves back on the pillow so she can see my whole face, moving a strand of hair so I couldn’t hide. “Something…messed up. Happened. And…I was careful. We were always careful I don’t know what happened but I-“

I watch her face changed. Like she knew. She knew what was coming but she waits patiently as I muster up the courage to say the words that felt too real once I said them.

“Mum I’m…I’m pregnant.”

Her eyes fill with tears and she bites her lip. What was she thinking? Was she crying for me or with me? Why wasn’t she saying anything!?

“Mum-“

“C’mere.” She wraps me in her embrace again and kisses the top of my head. My body feels drained and limp. I finally told somebody. It was real. This living thing inside of me was real.

“What happened?” She asks next. And I tell her what I think happened. When. How I found out. She listens, holding my hand in hers. When I’m done and it’s poured out of me she smiles supportively. “This isn’t a bad thing okay? It’s okay. Any decision you make is up to you. I’ll talk to your dad but just know you call the shots okay? I love you.”

This is what carries me. The love.

She asks me it I told Harry yet and I tell her the truth. She urges me to tell him. I tell her I wanted to so bad but I was scared.

She leaves shortly after that, I hear her talking softly outside my room. Nobody calls me for dinner until 7, a soft knock on my door. My sister would never be so soft, I assume it’s dad so I tell him to come in. I was scared to face him.

It’s Harry instead.

“Harry!” I cover my splotchy face with my blanket, why was he here? Did mum invite him? This was soo embarrassing.

My heart pounds and Harry is silent until he takes a seat where mum had previously been.

“I came over, your mum invited me. She explained.”

She did what? For a moment I feel betrayed.

“She said you weren’t doing so well. Stressed? I could make you some tea if you’d like. But I told you y/n, you’ll get into unis. You don’t have to worry so…”

I sigh. Mum had told him a half-truth. But he had come. Of course he had.

I couldn’t even think about uni right now because that lead me down a road of what if I couldn’t go because I had a baby. And that life felt so bleak it made me depressed.

“Harry.” I inch my blanket down a little and his eyes go round when he looks at me.

“You look…awful.”

“I know.” I cover my face with my hair but he brushes it away and kisses my forehead.

“No. I’m worried about you. I brought dinner-“

“Oh Harry.” I spot the bag he brought with him.

“I made it all for us. With my mum’s help but mostly me. I packed it to bring to you.”

I didn’t deserve him. And I had to tell him. And he was going to break up with me. What high school boy wanted a child?

“Harry it’s not uni.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I was carrying another living thing. It was the size of a seed but I was carrying it inside me. Like a living breathing pot. I was a potted plant.

“Then what is it?” His brows crinkle. “Is it us?”

“No!” I rush to tell him. “I…I don’t know how to say this. And I don’t know how you’re going to react but it’s okay either way.”

“What are you talking about?” His hands slide up my lap. “What is it?”

“Harry. I’m um, I’m pregnant.”

I watch him freeze and stay exactly how he is, his brows pinch ever so slightly. I knew this look. He looked still on the outside but his mind was racing. And I was scared what was racing through it.

“Pregnant?”

“Yeah. From…the holidays.”

“How did-I thought we-“

“I guess it’s not foolproof.” I whisper. Mum had told me to go on the pill, and I hadn’t listened because all my friends told me it made them gain weight. If only I had listened. Now I was gaining weight anyway.

“What are we going to do?” He asks next. And I never realized six little words could weigh the world. If I could cut those words out and surgically implant them into my heart I would. Just to remind me the equal parts relieved and comforted they made me.

I hold his face in my hands, new tears springing to my eyes. He was in this. With me.

He kisses me and pulls me into a hug. I cry into his shirt again and he holds me so tight I swear I could break.

“I don’t know if I can keep it Harry,” I finally whisper to him.

His hands fist in my shirt, he holds his breath and after a long minute he lets me go with it.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Was he really okay with all this?

“It’s…I can’t make you keep it.”

“You’d want to keep it?” I couldn’t believe it.

“It’s…” he swallows his sentence and keeps his gaze on my stomach. I tug his hand and lay it over it. When his eyes meet mine I see a hint of heartbreak. We were going to break our hearts either way I think.

Not once did I think he might want to keep it.

“It’s okay.” Harry finally says. “We’re so young right? How would we keep a baby and go to school, and do everything we always talk about?”

“Yeah I don’t…I don’t know.”

“I love you.” He says with such a sudden passion. I wrap my arms around his and return the sentiment.

Eventually we lay down and just talk about everything. Truthfully, my head was telling me not to keep the baby but everything else felt dead thinking about it.

Maybe that’s why it took me until April to finally make a decision. It was the size of a plum by then, and a tiny bump was starting to show but only when I stood naked in front of the mirror. With clothes on, nobody was the wiser. But the longer I kept it, I think the more Harry fell in love with it. The idea of it.

We have a long talk during our Easter holiday. We talked in my bedroom until the sun comes up. I tell him I was sure of my decision.

I’d gotten accepted to Cambridge by then. Harry was staying in London. We knew it wasn’t feasible. To live the life we always wanted, we had to get rid of this new life we never knew could happen.

I don’t know why but I don’t tell him the day I go to do it. I go with my mum. Mum drops my sister off at school—she didn’t know. Mum said she had a big mouth.

We drive in silence. When we park mum asks how I feel.

“Sad.” It was the truth. I knew this was right. But it felt like shite.

“Yeah.” She rubs my hands. “Want to go in?”

“I just want to sit here for a bit.” I tell her.

“Okay. I’ll go sign you in.”

She takes my purse and hers and leaves me there. I take the moment to ground myself. Say goodbye to the other future.

When mum knocks on my window I jump.

“Yn? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah yeah I’m coming in.” I open the door.

“You know you’ve been sitting here half hour?”

I pause, one leg out the door and one still in. “I…I must have got lost in my head. Sorry mum-“

“Look. Do you want to do this?”

“I don’t know…I have to.”

“There are other options love-“

“But how can I give it up and live my whole life like that?”

“We can help raise her. You can go on and live your life-“

“I’d be a horrible mother.” Mum and I had this row so many times before. It always ended in me storming away but I couldn’t here.

“You don’t need to make the decision today.”

“But I do.” I tell her. “Otherwise it’ll drive me insane.”

I tuck both feet back into the car and rest my hand on my belly. I’d allowed myself to do that only in my room, when I was alone. Doing it out here made it feel even more real. Suddenly I couldn’t imagine going through with the decision.

“I can’t do this.” I tell my mum.

She smooths my hair down and kisses my temple. My door closes and a few seconds later she climbs in beside me.

“Think about it.”

“I can’t. But I can’t keep it either.”

“Okay.” Mum pulls me into her and I think I should cry but I can’t. I’m calm, maybe I know I’d made the right decision. Or just a decision. I was going to stick to this.

“I can’t raise it. I’m just a child I…maybe someone out there wants a baby and can’t have one maybe-“

“I’ll look into it for you.” Mum promises. “You set the rules remember?”

And that’s how it goes. Mum looks into it, we decide to go for adoption. We go to the hospital on the first warm day of the year. By then I’d taken to wearing jumpers over flowy dresses and been thankful for the first time in my life that I wasn’t skinny like other girls. At most angles you couldn’t tell my belly was so perfectly round.

By then too, Harry had accepted the decision. He seemed relieved. Thinking aloud he’d said maybe he could raise it, but quickly turned around when I asked him what he’d do about uni.

“Someone out there can take care of it better than us. Someone will love the baby like we do.”

During the summer, I tell all my friends I was staying with family in midlands. And I do go up there, that’s where the couple who was adopting lived. Harry and I meet them with my mum and his. It’s awkward, we run out of conversation fast. But their house is big and they already have a 2 year old from an adoption last year. My baby was going to be loved here. And have a sibling.

“We did want to discuss one last thing,” they’d said before we left. We all listen intently. “We…find it best when it’s a no contact adoption. We’ve had a lot of friends who keep contact open and it gets messy-“

“What?” I hadn’t really thought about this until now. Hearing I’d have to give the baby up and go on like it didn’t exist felt wrong. Harry’s hand slips into mine.

“This is typical,” Harry’s mum says from his side. “Let’s hear it out.”

“Right. So just to prevent future complications, we do no contact. Of course when baby’s older and wants to seek out the real parents we can’t stop them. But until then…”

“Thank you.” My mum steps in when it goes silent. I could hardly wrap my head around what they were saying. When it gets older?

Pretty soon mum is ushering me out and Harry’s hand is still clutching mine. We don’t let go until we reach my Uncle’s where we were staying until August. The baby was due in September. I was going to miss the first week of class.

“I can’t do this.” I tell them later. “How can we just have no contact.”

“I thought you knew.” Mum says. “I explained that some parents want this when they adopt.”

She might have. Ever since I hit the third trimester like my doctor said, I’ve had a hard time listening and understanding what someone was saying after they spoke too long. I was glad school was done—for obvious reasons, but also for not having to sit in a class and learn.

“We have no other choice.” Harry says from beside me. He rubs my back and slowly, I zone back into the conversation. “We can find another family but they might want the same thing.”

“What if the baby never looks for us?” I turn to him, our heads press against the other’s. “What if we go our whole lives just wondering?”

“What’s the other option?” Harry whispers. He was right. I just didn’t want to get it.

Acceptance slowly creeps into me over the course of the summer. It was always hot carrying another person around, I was always hungry and thirsty, and very cranky. Harry came up to see me every other weekend when he could, mum stayed with me and that summer was one I could never forget.

It was September 1st, a particularly hot day. Rain fell in the afternoon and by the time the unforgiving sun set, the cool air was heavenly.

I sat by the bedroom window, moisturizing my belly like mum had shown me, talking to the baby. I wrote it a letter last week all about me, that I loved them and hoped the best for them. I told the baby about my family, how Harry and I met, and then I sealed it in an envelope with a picture of Harry and me. It was taken last Halloween when we’d both dressed up as each other. I tell mum to give it to the new parents. In case the day came the baby wondered about who we were.

As I spoke softly, I felt a gush of something wet down my leg.

“What?” I stand up, confused. “I…”

It takes me a second. I was going into labour.

“Mum!” I shout. “Mum! Come here!”

She rushes in and confirms it. It was happening.

“But it’s supposed to be next week!” I try not to panic but that’s all I can do as mum grabs our things and my aunt rushes to the car. “Does this mean something’s wrong? Is the baby o-“

I freeze as a contraction forces me to fold. I’d felt the kicking and the nausea and everything in between but these. These were a bitch.

Somehow we make it to hospital. Somehow I lay on a bed and push when the doctor tells me to. I nearly pass out. I just wanted Harry here with me. He didn’t know his kid was being born.

With a final push that felt like I was ascending my body and leaving it behind, I hear a wail and I cry. The baby was out, they cried and everything was okay.

“Okay congratulations mummy,” a nurse crouches down to me. “We’re going to clean you and baby up. She’s healthy and looks okay.”

“What?” I can barely see with my hair in my face and the nurses around me. It was a she? I had a baby girl?

We were never told the gender, so we wouldn’t get attached. But I had a baby girl. The nurse just called me mum.

I feel the tears on my cheeks, I was crying too. I try to look around me but a new nurse is talking in hushed voices to the doctor.

“…outside…call…adoption…shouldn’t or….contact-“

“What’s going on?” I can barely get the words out. “What?”

“Oh my love,” suddenly mum’s in the room and things are a bit better. A bit better.

“Mum what’s going on?”

“The baby’s born. The parents are outside they’re going to meet her soon.”

“What?” I look at mum’s face and it’s shining with tears. Why was she crying?

“Oh she’s beautiful love, she’s perfect. But your job’s done now. You should rest.”

“Mum,” I cry. “Where is she? Can’t I hold her?”

“No love,” mum moves my hair out of my face. I feel something break in half inside of me. I couldn’t even hold the baby? The baby girl? Mine and Harry’s baby girl?

“Why? Mum why? I just want to see her-“

“I’m sorry,” mum says through tears. “It’s just the way it is. She’s going to a loving home okay? She’s good. You’re okay.”

I can’t stop crying. I was going to lose her last April and I stopped that but I lost her anyway. My baby, I was never going to see her.

I remember when my sister was born. I was 5 and I was angry she’d taken the attention away. But when I saw her with her perfect toes and angel face I was obsessed with her. I even remember her first steps, she’d taken them at a park with mum and dad and me together. I was never going to know these things about my own baby. I was never going to know her.

I must pass out soon after. I remember waking up to the nurses instructing me about something. I’m half asleep and barely remember what I did when I get up. When I do wake it’s morning and there’s a figure on the chair beside me.

“You’re up.”

Harry. Relief washes over me knowing he’s here.

“Harry they took her,” I tell him.

“I know. I know yn.”

I move aside and he crawls into bed with me. I must look disgusting but he watches me with love brimming in his eyes. I can tell he’s been crying.

“I feel empty,” I whisper. Like someone had carved me out like a pumpkin. Something I’d had with me all year was gone. “How can I just move on? Start uni and all that when I…they just took her.”

“I keep thinking that.” Harry says. “Khalil invited me to a party to meet some blokes from uni and I just sat in my car the whole time. I couldn’t even go in. She…she was never going to be ours.”

“I feel awful.” I burrow into his neck as he strokes my hair. “A baby girl.”

“A baby girl,” Harry echoes.

***

I head to uni a week later. My body still feels like it fought a war and lost. It’s like it still thinks there’s a baby there. I produce milk for a few days, continue to have contractions, my belly is saggier than usual and I can’t stop crying about everything.

My dad drops me off to uni. He tells me he was proud of me, that I was always his baby girl. I cry then just like I cried at home when I said bye to mum, or when my sister hugged me which she never does. I can’t stop crying.

When I move into my dorm I feel like a completely different person than I thought I was going to be. My dormmate fills me in on everything she’s learned, complains about a boy and a party and it just feels so irrelevant to me. Did I used to care about those things? I had a baby. And now I didn’t.

By October, Harry and I are in different worlds. We hadn’t broken up but we talk weekly. Each week there’s less to talk about. When I visit home in October, being around him just makes me sad. He tries to cheer me up, make it like old times, but I know he’s hurting inside too.

I decide to do the breaking up. And at first he’s angry, insisting we could make it work. He actually refuses and walks away. We don’t talk for a whole day.

But at a house party in South where his uni mates were from, he accepts the end.

Through tears we kiss each other one final time, we whisper sweet nothings, we pour into each other all the hopes and wishes we had for each other.

When he hugs me for the last time I leave something behind. It’s similar to waking up the morning after my delivery and knowing something was gone. I really feel the shape of the loss. It sits in my sternum, a hole that grows smaller with time, but not just yet.

I fall into a depressed state for most of my first semester but my dormmate doesn’t give up on me and eventually I go to my first uni party. Eventually my brain fog clears and I actually go to all my classes. Eventually my life, on the outside, looks like it could be back to normal but inside I ache with the loss. So much that it becomes part of me. I don’t know where it ends, and I begin. It lives in me.

Age 23.

“The first of many hey?” Mal clinks his bottle to mine. I barely knew Mal but we were both friends with Khalil and therefore both at his stag.

“Before you know it we’re all going down,” one of Khalil’s friends joins in. “Stag after stag, suit after suit, it’s gonna be a blur man.”

“Let’s enjoy it while we can!” Someone cheers and everyone raises their beers. I toast with a smile; blokes loved to act like being in a relationship was the last thing they wanted when I knew most of them were mush in their girlfriend’s hands.

I also smile knowing I bought an engagement ring a few weeks back. I wanted to propose to Shannon, we met on her 22 when a friend invited me along. I couldn’t keep my eyes off the birthday girl. We’d been together since.

“Who do you think’s next?” The bets start going and nobody bets on me. Everyone always thought Shan was too good for me, they were counting on us breaking up. I was going to prove them all wrong.

The night gets sloppier until we all head back to the air bnb we’d rented for this. Tomorrow we were all supposed to go play golf like we were cosplaying old money bastards when we all knew we were just broke blokes from East. But I guaranteed they’d all be too hungover. We would get to the club and just drink the hangovers away.

And I’m right. I update Shan that I’m right when the boys stay in the dining area of the club. They decide on lunch and I step out to talk to my girlfriend.

“No birds allowed this weekend,” someone pipes in when I excuse myself.

“That’s just cuz you’re miserable Eli.” I brush past as the boys laugh. At me. And him.

I catch up with Shan. It was a bright day for September and I stay a little longer after the phone ends. Shan was in med school, she was always stressed or sleep deprived. I tried to support her the best I could—right now she needed moral support that she was going to get an internship she was applying for.

“Mummy doesn’t like when I have sweets,” a small voice says to my left. I look at a father with his daughter. He’s crouched down zipping her sweater up while she rambles on.

“Well it’s going to be our secret.” The dad says. “Sundays are for sweets aren’t they?”

“I love sweets.” She responds.

The father catches my eye and I shoot him a smile.

“Her mum’s going to hear every detail when we get home,” he says as he stands. “Can’t keep a secret to save her life.”

I laugh. The way she was rambling on, I didn’t think so. “How old’s she?”

“6.” He says, smiling down at her fondly. My heart aches.

“Almost 7.” She corrects her dad.

“Birthday’s in the spring.” He says more to me. “But almost 7 sure.”

I see them leave with one more shared smile, like we’re in on something. I imagine that’s how it would feel to be a parent. Always knowing something your kid doesn’t.

My daughter was 6. Wherever she was.

Thinking about the daughter I never had, the girl I lost always leaves me a little winded. Today’s no different.

Yn and I both made an agreement and it had been the hardest thing I’d done. Letting her go. It took me a proper year to even think about moving on.

I liked to think about yn, doing everything she wanted to do. But when I thought about the baby I spiralled into a dark pit. Sometimes when I drank too much, it pulled me in too deep to get out of. That’s what Shan liked to call my depressive drinking. She’s limited me to 3 drinks since.

Before I go in I take a minute to think about yn, where she might be. I hear from friends in high school random facts about her life. But I wonder how she’s doing. If she thinks about our baby like I do. How life would have been if I’d been here, calling her on the phone instead, asking if our baby girl was doing alright.

Age 29.

I stare at the nape of the man in front of me. It couldn’t be, but I’d memorized the back of his head—amongst other things, nearly 2 decades ago and I would bet £1000 I knew who this was. But I continue staring until the cashier rings him up.

In the same voice I remember, the one from my memories and my fantasies, I hear him say: “debit.”

I wait for him to pay before saying, “Harry?”

He turns so quickly he drops his card, wallet, and keys.

“Hi!” I laugh awkwardly and crouch down to help him pick his things up. There’s an awareness that the people in the queue behind me are witness to a moment that feels more intimate than a grocery store chat and it makes me shrink a little in my shell like a spooked turtle.

“Hi I-uh,” Harry short-circuits in front of me as the bored cashier holds his receipt out and stares at him with eyes that have worked one shift too many.

“I’ll just bag-“

“Yeah we can talk later.” I give him what I hope is a reassuring smile but it feels watery. I couldn’t believe of all the places I’d run into him, it was a grocery queue. How intense in such a mundane place.

As I watch my total rise on screen I risk a glance at Harry. His hand hovers over a white reusable bag, I wonder if that was his. Or his wife’s. If they did their weekly shop in a mismatch of bags that looked like that or they were the type of couple to have a set.

His eyes are on me though, somehow here and not here. I feel the same way.

I look back to the cashier asking me how I was paying. She glances between Harry and I. I don’t look back at him. Or the growing queue a few feet away.

I take my groceries—just some items my mum asked me to pick up, and stuff them into the tote I’m wearing. Harry waits for me by the exit.

“Hi.” He says as his eyes scan my face. I do the same, taking in all the ways time had spent with him. It must have been good—he looked good. “I can’t believe-“

“A Whole Foods of all places.” I laugh. A grin splits his face but his eyes stay on me.

“That smile, that laugh. God I’ve missed you.”

“I…missed you too.” How I could miss someone I’d known for one year and then never again for nearly two decades…I didn’t realize it was possible until now.

“Are you busy?” He asks. “Maybe we can grab a drink or?”

“I don’t…drink.” I hated that I had to announce it to people. I was still at the stage where I was figuring out how to say it confidently, or find a way around saying it.

“Oh.” Harry glances down at my belly and I realize he’d misunderstood but it’s too unspoken to correct him. “Cafe?”

“Yeah. That sounds lovely.” Honestly going anywhere with him sounded lovely right now. I wanted to cancel all my plans for the day and just sit with him. Stare at him and catch up. I couldn’t believe he was here.

We walk in a comfortable but waiting silence, like taking a cold drink out to a park with the anticipation it’s going to be good , and no desperation to open it as soon as you get it.

“Usual? Tea?” Harry asks when we step into a nearby cafe. It’s big for a cafe but has enough students working on laptops to not feel empty. I nod, unsure how to feel that Harry still knows what I order at a cafe. Or that my order hasn’t changed since 17.

I find us a booth and pretty soon he’s sliding into the seat across from me. The two of us can’t stop smiling.

“Hi,” he says again.

“Hi…”

“You look good, the same but better.”

“I was going to say the same thing about you!” I exclaim. More smiling.

“How’s…I mean, how are you? How is everything? What-“

“There’s so much to ask-“

“I don’t even know how to ask what I want to know!” Harry laughs and I’m warmed from the inside out at the sound of it.

“This shouldn’t be hard!”

“No.” He scrubs his face. “I’m really buzzing that we’ve run into each other.”

“Me too. It’s a bit unbelievable.”

“I know.” He continues gripping his cup and not taking his eyes off of me. It’s the exact way he used to look at me when we were teenagers. It nearly takes my breath away. “You look good—but I already said that. Sorry.”

“No,” I laugh. “That’s all that’s running through my head.”

“Oh—I remember hearing you were engaged a few years ago-“

“Yeah.” I turn my hand so he can see the ring. “Married now. You?”

“Yeah,” he looks down at his own hand. He had so many rings on I couldn’t tell from a glance. “Coming up to 5 years now.”

“Wow. It’s only 1.5 for me but Tatum and I—my husband, we’d been since uni.”

“Took him a while.”

“Mhm,” it had been a sore subject way back then. Harry says it casually but he studies my face. I know he wants to ask more but he’ll politely maneuver around it.

“Are you happy?”

I let out a breath. “That’s more complicated than anything else you could ask!”

“Is it?”

“Yeah I-“ I shrug. “I don’t know if I am. But I also have no idea what I could do about it. So. There’s that.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” My stomach curdles with his words. I didn’t want pity, least of all from Harry. Harry. I can’t believe he was here. “I get it though. Everyone says your 30s are even more glorious than your 20s. We’ll see soon enough if they’re right.”

I meet his eye, they always intimidated me to look too long into. Even now, I glance back down at my drink. When I look up again he has a wry smile twisting his lips. He knew.

I was sorry to hear life hadn’t been as good for him. And then I understand, it wasn’t pity he was giving me. He truly was sorry like I.

I thought about Harry often. Of course I did. I liked to imagine him living out his dreams like he always talked about. I liked to imagine him happy and thriving.

“Do you ever think about us?” I have to ask. “If we did it all differently?”

“We would have had a 12 year old with us.”

Hearing him say it feels like someone had taken a screwdriver and opened me up. Raw and exposed. But looking at him I know he thought about her as much as I had. Both of us were apparently mourning a future neither of us had fought for.

“Yeah,” I breathe but I just sound winded.

“We were trying, at one point—Shan and I.” Harry fiddles with his ring. “Did all the tests and the trials and the shite. But no kids. It put a real strain on my relationship. I think we cracked instead of bending. And I don’t think either of us know how to make it right again.”

I grasp his hand and squeeze. “I know what that’s like. It’s hard. I…a couple years ago. I lost a baby. A baby boy. I felt like it was a punishment for-“

“Don’t.”

We hold onto each other, our drinks long forgotten. He holds my hand and it feels like being known again, like I wasn’t such an awful person. That someone could see everything I’ve done and still choose to have love for me.

“I’m sorry.” He tells me.

“Me too.” I bite my lip. With a sigh I let him go and lean back. Here we’d been so excited to bump into each other but we’d both been carrying sorrow and grief. It wasn’t very hopeful.

“So I guess you’re not drinking because you’re-“

“No.” I say, surprisingly without feeling awkward. “I’m just sober right now. Trying to figure out life without a drink.”

“Sounds like torture but I respect that. Sounds hard.”

“It was at first. I like the feeling now of thinking clearly. But I miss a glass of wine I do sometimes.”

We smile at each other.

“So do you live around here?” Harry broaches talking again after both of us had lapsed into silence for a while. I blink away the fog of the past.

“Yeah. You?”

“Nah. Shan’s out of town and I was feeling lonely. Came over to visit my sister. I’m just staying with her for the week.”

“Lucky me then.” I smile.

“Lucky me too.” He smiles back. It’s soft. We’re soft. It felt impossible to me after all this time the tenderness was still the strongest thing between us.

We chat a bit more, much about nothing. What we did for a job, anyone we still kept in touch with from school. Nothing that meant a lot.

“I need to head off now,” I say when my phone buzzes for a second time. “I was on my way to my mum’s. She keeps calling me.”

“Yeah. Don’t want to keep you.” Harry says but he stays seated. So do I.

We continue just studying the other until my phone rings again and I laugh. “It was…I really loved seeing you.”

I slide out and Harry mirrors me. I still come to his chest, he still smells the same and stands the same and looks just as handsome.

“How about uhm, how about dinner some time?” Harry asks. I knew it was coming, it’s still painful saying no.

“I…can’t. I…we can’t just do dinner, can we?”

“No,” Harry bows his head. We had too much history to just do dinner. From what he said—and I knew, both our lives were too complicated to add the allure of each other into the mix. I couldn’t do that to my life as tempted as I was. Especially not sober.

“Yeah.” He stands straight again and gives me space to head to the door. “Good seeing you. Give your mum my best if she doesn’t hate me.”

“She doesn’t.” I assure him. We stand awkwardly not sure if a kiss, a hug, or a wave was appropriate. We settle for a hug.

I remember the last time I was enveloped in his arms, tucked away into his tall frame. When we said goodbye forever, agreed to live our best lives separately. We’d both been too scarred to be anything together. Too much grief.

“Maybe we’ll run into each other again.” Harry smiles at me when we part.

“Maybe,” I say knowing full well I wouldn’t do groceries on the weekend anymore.

With a final wave we both part ways again, this time it doesn’t feel as much like closure.

Age 35.

“Graduation’s graduating, what a mouthful.” I say to Andie. We sit in the parking lot of a local pub back home. Both of us had avoided reunions after going to the first one 10 years ago and being reminded of how much people liked to remind you of who you used to be. But this year Andie found out an old flame was going and single. And this is the first year I saw that Harry had checked off going. So we’d decided to go together.

I could have easily reached out to him. Asked him about meeting up there. But I didn’t want to come across any way. I remember our run-in 6 years ago. We felt the same way—we would do anything for each other, and I didn’t want any affect over him coming. Last I heard he was still in a relationship. Just cuz I was didn’t mean I had to ruin another.

“Okay. We going in?” Andie passes me her flask.

I’d taken to drinking again. Originally I stopped after a particularly bad night when I was 28. It nearly cost me my wedding back then.

I stopped to get sober. To feel what it felt like not to rely on alcohol to keep from feeling my emotions. I had a lot of grief I never processed. And unfortunately being sober, and processing the grief and depression, had ultimately cost me my marriage. But I was better for it. I knew what unconditional love and support was. I didn’t want to settle for someone who only loved me at my best.

Now I felt in control when I drank. I knew when to stop.

“Let’s go!”

“Do you think he’ll remember me?” Andie asks as we walk up to the place.

“You comment on so many of his posts. I think he does.” I tease.

“Gah. It would have saved me so much heartbreak if I just told him back 18 years ago how I felt.”

“Maybe,” I think about my confessed love 18 years ago and the heartbreak that ensued.

“Well at least I would have gotten him outta my system. Oh god I see him-“

“Hi ladies,” we’re stopped near the front and given name tags, making small talk with the girls working the booth. I vaguely remember them from a club but I have to read their name tags to pretend I remembered them at all.

Andie ditches me pretty quickly but I don’t mind. I find some friends I saw a couple times a year. Guess this was the couple time this year.

The whole time my eyes scan the room. People had brought their partners and I wondered if Harry would do the same. Deep down, I prayed he didn’t. I just wanted to see him.

I spot him halfway through the night. He’s leaning against the bar talking to Khalil. I remembered they used to be friends, he was always nice to me while Harry and I dated.

I watch him talk and drink. I lose him for a bit and then catch him leaving. Shite.

I excuse myself and rush out but nearly trip over myself slowing down. He was just outside for a smoke break.

“When did that habit start?” I ask. He nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Fu-y/n you scared me.” He shakes his face dramatically, like he’s getting something off of it. I bite back a smile, he was pretty drunk. “When did you get here? I didn’t know you came to these things?”

“I don’t.” I correct him. I couldn’t tell him I came for him. “It was just the name of this reunion, Graduation’s graduating. How could I pass it up?”

This earns a laugh. Eases the air between us. “Did you see Oli in there? He’s gotten bald.”

“He looks like his dad actually,” I remember his dad was always coming to Oli’s football matches, screaming at his son to run faster.

“Glad you didn’t end up with him?” Harry smirks.

“Oh yeah. I heard last reunion he just kept going up for the karaoke sober. If I want my bloke to embarrass me, at least give him the excuse of being drunk.”

“Shit,” Harry laughs. “I remember that! I remember! Wish I could forget!”

I laugh with him. “Harry you’re getting pretty close to drunk yourself.”

“Ah yeah. More than 3 drinks that, I’m being naughty tonight.”

I scrunch my nose, no idea what he’s talking about.

“I can’t believe you’re here tonight,” Harry says again. “I thought I wasn’t going to see you again for another 12 years after our last time.”

“Thought I’d halve the time.” I watch Harry squash out the butt.

“Glad you did.” He looks at me and I’m 17 again. Why couldn’t we both be single? Why did I come here knowing I couldn’t have him.

Maybe I was as masochistic as the person who invented maths.

“Yn?” A voice calls out to me. “Oi! It is you I thought I was dreaming you up! What a sight!”

I’d been avoiding Oli all night. Not anymore.

I glance at Harry and he hides a smirk. Oli notices Harry then and his face hardens a little.

“Oli! Long time!” I go in for the hug he’s reaching for, unsure why he was so sweaty on an autumn night. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he grins at me. “You look good! Not a day over 25.”

“Don’t flatter me Oli,” I roll my eyes. “It’s not going to get you anything.”

“I’m not looking! I swear it!” He says earnestly. “I’m just paying you a compliment. It’s good to see you. Hey, I’m actually in a good relationship. Gonna propose to her.”

“Are you? What’s she like?”

I stand in the brisk evening as Oli tells me about his girlfriend. I’m happy for him, what we had in high school wasn’t really a relationship but I never wished him bad. He was a good guy, I was glad he found his person.

I change the subject when he asks about my love life, tell him I was getting cold. We head back in and I tell him I’d catch up to him later. I’d lost Harry and wanted to find him again. I had more I wanted to talk about.

“Khalil,” I interrupt him playing pool. He goes in for a hug and I engage in polite small talk until I tire of it. “I’m looking for Harry.”

“Of course you are,” he wags a finger at me. “I saw him leaving ten minutes ago?”

“Jeez really?” I couldn’t believe I missed him! After coming here just for him. Maybe he had to get home, maybe he had a kid by now. Had to tuck him in.

“He’s not doing so well since the divorce-“

“What?” I stare at Khalil like he’s spoken gibberish. Why hadn’t I heard about that?

“Ehm yeah. He’s pretty private about it.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Yeah. He’s been separated a few years now but he just signed the papers a couple weeks ago. I dunno. He gets kinda depressed around this time of year. Probably the weather.”

It was September. It wasn’t the weather.

I had to find him.

I brush past the people I went to school with. I followed Harry outside to a roof 17 years ago and today I follow him out to find him again. We needed to talk.

I look both ways, hoping for a miracle.

I spot a figure slumped on the far end of the road. I recognize the church, it was where we went every Easter and Christmas growing up.

I walk towards the figure until I can make out the hair. It was Harry. Thank god.

“Why’d you leave?” I ask him when he looks up to my approaching footsteps.

“I drank too much,” he hangs his head again. I sit beside him.

“I heard about the divorce. I’m sorry.”

Harry shrugs. “We separated a while ago. It was coming for a long time.”

“Yeah. Still.” I say.

We sit in silence, the only sound is our breathing and the faint noises from the pub down the road.

“She’s in her last year by now.” I say without further explanation. I know he’d know.

“Our baby’s 17.”

Our baby? I feel choked up. All these years we’d been apart, built our own lives, and there was still an our even when there hadn’t been.

“It’s always been us hasn’t it?” Harry says. “Nobody understands.”

“They couldn’t. We were so young, making such a big decision.”

“Oh y/n.” He leans into me and I wrap my arm around his shoulder. He’s cold, his jacket pooled on the steps around him. I gather it to spread over his shoulder but he stops me. “How much heartbreak can you have in one lifetime?”

I sit, aching for the pain Harry was going through. Knowing it was mirrored in me.

“I’ve had enough for a lifetime. I know that.”

“Me too.” Harry sighs. “I miss you.”

“I’m right here.” I intertwine our hands. They still fit the exact same, all these years later. I examine them, but they looked the same too. I wonder if our baby girl ever looked at her hands, wondered who she inherited them from.

“D’you think she thinks about us?” Harry asks what I’m thinking.

“Maybe.” I say. “I like to think so. I just hope she doesn’t hate us for giving her up.”

“Yeah me too I think…” he hangs his head. I hear him sniffle. Seems like Harry hit the point of drinking where all you could feel is regret. I remember those days. I knew where he was.

When he doesn’t finish his sentence I fill the silence; “Me and Tatum split uh…four years ago now.” I update him. “You probably heard something about it. I remember my mum saying she ran into yours when it was happening. They probably talked all about it.”

I wait for Harry to give confirmation but he stays the way he is.

“I went sober a few years before then. Almost ruined our wedding cuz I was exactly where you were. Unprocessed grief and all I could do was drink about it. I’d given up a baby at 18, then lost a baby a decade later. It feels silly to say out loud, that something that never really came into this world—something the size of a fruit could act like the rock you push up the hill every morning. The grief you fight at your darkest times. How could we be haunted by something that didn’t even exist—not technically. But that’s just the way it was. And that’s the way it had to be when we were 18. I’m not always sure I made the right decision overall but I know it was a decision we had to make at the time. I’ve had to find my peace. So do you Harry.”

“Yeah. I-I have to. Y’know? Sometimes I wonder if I would have made her proud.” Harry sniffles. I had similar thoughts. My throat feels tight remembering. “I don’t think, right now, I would be.”

“She’s so loved. She is so loved Harry. Whatever…wherever she is.”

“I love you.” Harry turns to me. His face is raw with grief and emotion. “Never stopped loving you. But I don’t want to give you this version of me.”

“I’ll take any version of you Harry.” I reassure him. “I think we’ve seen too much of each other to be able to hide anything away.”

He tips forward slowly until his head rests on my chest. I hold him there, just like he’d done for me so many years ago. I tell him the type of thing that meant everything to me back then and I hope it helps him to hear it: “We’ll get through this Harry.”

***

“I don’t remember getting here.”

I look up from my book, Harry stands in my kitchen with a confused look on his face. It was weird seeing him here in my flat. But it was so right too.

“We walked home. I thought you sobered up.”

“Nuh-uh.” He takes a few steps towards me, hesitant.

“Coffee?”

“Maybe I’ll take a shower first?”

“First door on your right. Extra towels in the cupboard.”

“Thanks.”

We look at one another for a beat before he moves back. I make another pot of coffee and clean up from breakfast while he showers.

Next time he walks back in he looks a lot better. Smells nice too.

“Black please.” He says when I hold the coffee up.

I pour him a cup and watch him sip it.

“Thank you for last night.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” I tell him.

“I remember what you said to me. You’re right of course. I think I knew it, I just didn’t have anyone to talk to about it with. Nobody knew about us…”

“You didn’t have to keep it a secret ‘til this day Harry.” I was surprised he had. “You didn’t even tell any of your friends?”

“The only people who knew were my family, a-and Shan. But. Year after year it didn’t mean the same thing to her. I stopped talking to her about it pretty quickly. Think it made it worse because her and I couldn’t actually…”

“Yeah.” I understood.

“But I realized. I think it was losing both of you. I feel like you were taken away too. We just went from being around each other all the time to cold turkey. That was a loss too so…”

“Yeah.” Again, I understood.

“I’m 35. I’ve gotta…get my head on straight.”

I examine him. “Looks okay to me?”

He smiles and puts his cup down.

“I’m sorry to hear about your divorce.”

“Meh that was years ago. Hard then. Fine now. For the best.”

“I agree,” Harry moves around the table to stand where I am. My heart pulses just like it always does around him. He rests a hand on my hip, dragging it up to wrap around my waist. He must feel how hard my heart’s beating. “Did I tell you? That I love you?”

“Maybe?” I feel myself growing more present. The hole that always lived inside of me growing even smaller in this moment. It allows me to settle on the floor better; less air, more weight.

“Well I do. I love you. At 17, or at 35.” He says this with a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth.

“Well. I love you.” I return the kiss, relish in the way his hand grips my tank. “At 17, or 35.”

“Sometimes I wish I held on tighter at 17. But I look at you now and I’m excited to get to know you again.”

His words pour over me like honey. It was sweet we were still on the same page.

“I’m not letting you go this time.” Harry whispers in my ear. He pulls me in tight, swaying from side to side. “I want to spend 41 and 50 with you. I want all of you, every side.”

“Perfect,” I peer up at him. “That’s exactly what I want too.”

“And maybe one day,” he continues in a hush voice. “We’ll get a call from a young girl. She’ll tell us all about her life in a town up north. About a picture she has of her mother dressed like her father and her father dressed like her mother.”

“She’ll tell us she’s had a good life, and she’s thought about the people in the picture. She’d tell us she wants to meet them.”

“We would be able to show her the love we kept for her. Our love’s like a venn diagram, the bit in the middle is just for her. She’d know why she was born in the first place.”

“Closure,” I whisper to him. “We would know closure.”

I remember the day she was taken, how the loss of not even being able to see her felt bigger than the loss of her itself back then.

I think of a 17 year old girl, with green eyes and brown hair. With my smile and Harry’s dimples. My hands, and Harry’s height. She was loved by people, families, that she didn’t even know existed yet.

They say if you love something, let it go. If it’s meant to be it’ll come back.

As Harry and I stay intertwined in the kitchen of my flat, I send out a wish into the universe for her like I did most days. That she was healthy, happy, and one day curious enough to seek us out. That one day, she would come back.

Right now I focus on the man in my arms. The one I never thought I’d get to hold again. For now this was all I needed. I’d loved him, let him go, and after so many years apart, we were back.

[harrywavycurly]

Not to alarm anyone but it’s been nine years since the last One Direction concert.

[jezebelblues]

saturn bound | h.s

summary: in which the world ends in your point of view, alongside your husband.

cw: death, angsty-ish i guess? unedited, grammatically correct in upper case if that tickles ur fancy.

word count: approx 1.4k. she’s a shortie

| this is in first person! (perspective of you, as reader) i was iffy about a 1st perspective so i edited in both 2nd and 3rd, but 1st person felt right. sorry if u hate, ladies.

No one would remember me as YN, no one would remember my husband as Harry.

As the world crumbled into its final moments, you’d think that chaos would envelope everyone whole. That people would be running, screaming, fighting, as if they could somehow wrestle with the jaws of fate. Mothers clutching their children, fathers desperately barking orders to no one, families collapsing under the weight of hopelessness. Dogs howling into the wind after their selfish owners sped off, children sobbing as the air itself seemed to shudder with terror. A cacophony of fear.

You’d imagine fear cause these people knew their life was going to end.

And it was there undeniably, fear. Not the frantic kind, though. A different one—a quiet terror that settled deep in the bones, cold and ancient, like the Earth itself had finally whispered its last breath into our ears. It didn’t matter what was ending us—whether the dead were clawing from their graves, or if the sky had split apart and let loose the fires of heaven, or some disease had snatched us, unseen, from within. It didn’t matter. Not really. Because the truth was simple, inevitable: today, all life on Earth would be snuffed out, and we would become nothing—a floating spec of a forgotten afterthought.

There would be no future, no one left to carry the stories of humankind forward. No history books filled with our triumphs and tragedies. There would be no mourning of our extinction, the things we took for granted. Earth would be a blank—unknown, just one of countless casualties of time. If there was anyone out there in the universe with us, the children of this planet, would be memories swept away like dust, if even that. There would be no tears shed for us. The universe, so vast, would hardly notice our passing.

Some prayed. Desperation forced them down to their knees, begging for salvation, for some kind of afterlife, something more beautiful than their end. The thought of death so terrifying that they’d hope and pray they’ll end up in heaven—hell, even. Anything other than nothing, than eternal darkness. I understood, in a way, because nothing is scary—we’re alive, we’ve never experienced it—it’s impossible to wrap your mind around nothing.

Others drank. I joined them, a bottle of tequila in hand, the burn numbing me just enough to make peace with the fact that I would die today. And my Harry, the man that gave me his last name, would die beside me.

Harry Styles, the man the world adored, the man I called my husband—sat next to me, his head resting softly against my shoulder. We watched as Saturn, impossibly close now, loomed over us, over our home, like an executioner asking for our final words. Its rings shimmered, casting a glow that drowned out the stars. The air was thick with sobs, with whispered prayers. People clung to each other like lifelines, as if the touch of another human might hold them here, in this world that was no longer theirs. Some screamed, but most just stood and stared, watching death arrive with a strange, defeated calm—a cobra swaying in dance before striking its prey.

Harry’s hand found mine, gripping it tightly as if to stay grounded. He tried to pray, the fingers on his left hand trembling with the grasp of his cross pendant, but his voice cracked, breaking on the words. Tears ran down his face, but I couldn’t cry. There was nothing left in me to give to hope or fear. Once, faith could’ve been my anchor, but now it felt like a lie I might tell myself to feel safe. There was no safety here. There was no escaping this.

And so I watched, as those I had once called neighbors, friends, fought against the inevitable. They ran, though there was nowhere to go. They screamed, though no one could hear. They prayed, though no god would answer. It was almost pathetic, the way they clung to the last shreds of life. But maybe it gave them some comfort. Maybe that was all anyone wanted in the end—their last conjured thought to be at least I tried.

"You know-” he trailed off softly, his voice breaking the stillness between us, "I always thought we'd have more time. That mayb-” He sighed. “Maybe we'd get old together."

His words struck me like a blow. "I thought so too." I whispered, feeling the ache in my chest grow heavier. It felt so cruel, to have found this love, this overwhelming, all-consuming love, only to have it ripped away after two years of marriage. "We deserved more, H.”

My husband’s thumbs ran circles upon the back of my hand, his tears glistening in the glow of Saturn. His lip quivered, voice shaky. “We can be old now.” He sent me a sad smile, pressing a kiss into my temple. “Happy fiftieth anniversary.” He murmured, playing with the ring on my finger.

I couldn’t stifle the whimper that fell from my grin, nodding to his words. I stared at his wedding band that shimmered in the light before passing the bottle of tequila between us—a toast. To fifty years of marriage. That would’ve something to drink to.

One swig turned into three, three turned into five. It had helped stopped the tears eventually.

Harry turned to me, his face inches from mine, and I could see the weight of the world in his eyes—a humorous irony, really, now that we really are practically weightless as we pull into Saturn’s gravity. He raised a hand, cupping my face so gently, as though I were something precious that he didn't want to break.

"If I could choose how it all ends," he whispered, his breath warm against my lips, "I'd choose this—here with you. If this is the last thing I feel, the last thing I see, then maybe it's not so bad."

Alcohol couldn't stop the tears then. They spilled over, warm and unrelenting, because what else could I do? I pressed my forehead against his, our breaths mingling as the world began to fall apart around us. The rumble of the Earth cracking, the low roar of Saturn's tug—it all seemed so distant, so unimportant.

"I don't want to lose you." I choked out, my voice barely a whisper.

"You won't, YN." His voice was unwavering, as if he had the book of answers hidden in his pocket. His thumb brushed over my cheek while his lips parted once more. "You'll always have me. Always."

And then he kissed me. It wasn't desperate or rushed. It wasn't the kiss of two people saying goodbye, just an I’ll see you later. It was slow, soft, full of everything we had been to each other. His lips were warm, delicate, and for a moment I could pretend the world wasn't ending. I could pretend that all we had was time.

Saturn’s light bathed the earth in colors that had never seemed so tragically gorgeous—deep purples, blues, and grays, all spinning around the our dying planet. The rings twisted and churned in the sky, pulling our world apart piece by piece, and the wind howled as if it cried for us. The stars dimmed, one by one, turning away from the spectacle of our destruction, unable to bear witness. Maybe they chose to die along side us, not letting Earth go through it alone.—like they were the only ones who’d mourn our death. I silently thanked them, though inanimate, I swear I could feel their empathy.

Harry gripped my hand tighter, his skin warm against the cold air. I brought his hand to my lips and kissed his knuckles. Our foreheads met again, a united front. His green eyes met mine, full of sorrow, of love, of things unsaid. I wanted every one of the five senses to envelope only him. Our last moment to be together, not watching the world collapse, but here, in this space we had carved out between us.

I kissed him. One last time. The taste of salt from his tears mingled with the liquor on my lips. “I love you.” We whispered together, our voices lost in the roar of the sky falling apart.

And then it was gone.

The cold sank into my bones, but it no longer mattered. My heart slowed, and the world around me faded. No more breath in my lungs, no more blood in my veins. Just the void. And as we drifted into that nothingness, I held onto one final hope—that there is some sort of afterlife, so I could find my Harry again.

Yet, the Earth was gone. It dissolved into the void like dust. The stars, too, blinked out one by one, and the universe spun on, indifferent. We were forgotten, nothing left to even decompose in our boundless grave. Perhaps the dead stars that’ll become something more will be our headstones—an indication we were once here.

But for now, it was as if we never existed in the first place.

btw if you feel like you’ve seen this before, i originally wrote this on wattpad in 2017. it was horrible :D but i liked the concept, so this is it readjusted. hope u enjoyed even just a lil <3

[1d1195]

Neighbors Extra VI

Read Neighbors here | ~2.2 k words

From me: based on this ask. Not sure when it takes place exactly--but I'm thinking early on once they are officially a couple. But I don't think it's necessarily relevant to their timeline

Warnings: talking about periods and blood (a little), mostly fluffy

Summary: Rory has never had someone to ask why Mumma gets a little grumpy every month. Or why she needs to carry sticks in her purse. Harry had never thought about how his mum would have to continue life while grumpy, tired, and uncomfortable when he was young until he watched her do it.

Harry was working at the desk set up in the living room that she had kindly insisted he use for his work. When Harry was at work, they were allowed to watch TV quietly, unless Harry had a client in which case she and Rory would either go run errands or play in his room quietly or Harry would go into the spare room and set up a more private session for his client. But the times in which they were all home while Harry was working were far and few between.

But today was designated to mainly paperwork and going over his schedule for the coming week. She was lying on the couch watching something for the last hour. Rory was off in his room playing with his toys. The weather was crummy so there wasn’t much to do to be entertained other than what they were currently doing. “Mumma?” Rory called.

Harry happened to glance up in the mirror above him. It was shaped like a windowpane and caught the reflection of most of the room—including her lounging on the couch. Harry liked the spot because he got to admire how pretty she looked lazed along the sofa. He wanted to snuggle up to her immediately and gave him motivation to get through his work faster with the thought of doing so.

She loved being a mum. It was evident on her face. Harry thought that there weren’t many people who would be more fit to be a mum than her. But right then she looked utterly exhausted. In fact, Harry realized at that moment she was a bit flushed, her cheeks pink for seemingly no reason. “Yeah, love bug?” She called back quietly.

“Can you come here?!” He called back. Harry watched her in the mirror as she closed her eyes, sighed, and pushed herself off the comfy couch.

“Y’alright, kitten?” He asked. She nodded, barely acknowledging that he had spoken, and headed for Rory’s room. Frowning, Harry turned in the chair and watched her leave. She could hear her and Rory chatting a bit. Her voice was warm as always but missing the enthusiasm she usually had when playing with her son. Harry wondered if she was getting sick.

“...in a few minutes, baby. I’m sorry.”

Harry’s frown deepened and he waited for her to return. Instead, the bathroom door down the hall closed with a thud. Since Harry was waiting for the sounds of her being sick, he was attuned to the sound of her second massive sigh and the sound of the cabinet below the sink slamming. It was surreal that Harry knew all the sounds in the house after only being there a short time. The way he knew whose footfalls were on the stairs (admittedly it was easy to tell between her and Rory given he was still little). “Rory, we gotta run to the store!” She said coming out to the main room grabbing her keys off the side table next to the stairs.

“But Mumma, I’m in the middle of—”

“Rory, I’m not in the mood. We are going now. It’ll be ten minutes.”

“But—”

“Kitten,” Harry murmured standing from the desk and putting a hand on her arm. “Are y’sure y’alright?”

She nodded and looked away from his face, embarrassed it seemed. For what he didn’t know. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Rory!” She called again.

“Mumma I’m—”

“Rory,” Harry called quietly as she inhaled to call for him again. Frustration coated her face. Her cheeks seemed to be getting pinker by the second and Harry could practically see the pain in her eyes, her head...

And her stomach.

“Listen t’Mummy and come here for a minute, please.”

Rory left his room immediately; his steps audible on the carpet upstairs. She rolled her eyes. “Course he listens to you,” a bitter tone in her voice. Harry frowned and turned to Rory as he entered the main room.

“I was in the middle of—”

“I know, but we have a mission,” Harry said and took the purse off her shoulder and guided her to the couch. “Mumma needs us t’get a few things for her,” he told him. He put a blanket around her and put the remote in her hand. Her lips parted slightly as she watched him and didn’t even allow her a moment to speak. “We can finish your stuff when we get back.”

“But—”

“No buts,” he shook his head firmly.

Pouting, Rory sighed and went to the door to put on his shoes.

“Harry,” she was looking at Harry like she had seen a ghost. “You’re working,” she reminded him.

“Working from home, kitten. It has some perks. S’fine. Think y’need a minute or two t’yourself, yeah?” He asked. “Will y’send me a picture of the kind of products y’like?” He smiled and kissed her forehead. “Y’can take a bath if y’want,” he suggested and headed toward the door and helped Rory to his feet and ushered him into his raincoat.

“But—” She started to stand again.

“Kitten, no buts,” he said and closed the door behind him.

*

As the tub filled and water heated up, she tried to figure out if there was gift that was significant enough to award him as the best boyfriend ever in existence. Amazon was useless and she was completely at a loss since Harry was annoying and bought anything he wanted or needed for himself. She gave up after a bit of browsing and the tub was filled to an appropriate level.

She took Harry’s suggestion as soon as they left. She headed to the master bathroom and made herself a bubble bath. She desperately wished she had one of those fancy tubs that was basically an indoor jacuzzi. Because she would have killed for a jet on her sore back. But it was okay because the water was hotter than she could almost feasibly stand. Harry would say it was liquid lava. For her birthday, Harry got her a speaker to play her music while she was showering. So she played music quietly and grabbed the book she had started earlier and put it on the ledge of the tub. Sinking into the water felt like heaven on her body and skin. She sighed, content with relief. The book could wait, she would consider sleeping in the tub.

*

“Mumma was mean,” Harry could see Rory in the rearview mirror. He was pouting and looked out the window. His jacket was littered with raindrops, and he looked annoyed. “I was playing my game.”

“I know y’were,” Harry nodded. “S’jus’...Mummy wasn’t really feeling well. So, she wasn’t mean on purpose.” He sighed dramatically. In the way a child with no bills, no car troubles, and no job could sigh as if the world was on his shoulders. “I’ve seen y’give Mummy some attitude, lad,” he reminded him pointedly glancing at him in the mirror once more. Rory pursed his lips. Harry was good at calling Rory out for being a bit of a diva. It kept him from being spoiled when he was certain that she was definitely going to continue spoiling her son. He couldn’t blame her. His own mum was guilty of treating Harry as the baby (and Gemma loved to remind them both of such).

He couldn’t wait to tell Gemma about the predicament he was now in.

“Is Mumma sick?” Rory pulled him from his thoughts.

Harry shook his head. He wondered if she had ever mentioned it to Rory before. Probably not. What did a six-year-old boy need to know about a period? “No, she’s jus’ a little...grumpy because she’s in pain,” he explained.

“Why’s she in pain?”

Harry took a deep breath. “Her tummy hurts.”

“We didn’t get any ginger ale or popsicles! Mumma always gets ginger ale and popsicles when my tummy hurts. We have to go back, Harry!”

He smiled. “It’s not her tummy. It just looks like her tummy. Do you remember how Mummy had you in her belly?”

He nodded. “Does Mumma have another baby in there?”

Harry coughed. His cheeks reddened even though Rory hadn’t a clue what he insinuated. “No,” he shook his head. “No, but s’an organ that women have holds the baby,” he explained. “When it doesn’t have a baby in it though, it makes Mummy bleed so that next month if she wanted t’try t’have a baby she—”

“Is Mumma gonna die!?” He asked his voice breaking hysterically.

“No, no,” he chuckled. “No,” he pulled off to the side of the road. “No, she’s fine.”

“But you said she’s bleeding! We have to get bandaids!”

“S’not that kind of cut, Rory,” he smirked and turned in his seat. He grabbed Rory’s leg and gave it a squeeze. “Mummy is fine. Do y’think I’d be this calm if Mummy was hurt?”

The little one released a breath once more like he just got news that he wasn’t laid off this quarter. Or that his test results came back negative. “How can Mumma bleed and be okay without a bandaid?”

“S’hard t’explain. Has t’do with getting older and—”

“Am I going to bleed?!”

Harry snorted. “No, lad. S’something only women have t’deal with.”

“Oh,” he thought for a second. “That’s not really fair to Mumma.”

Harry chuckled. “Make sure y’tell her that. She’ll appreciate your thought.”

“How come Mumma isn’t getting blood everywhere?” He asked.

Harry felt a little out of his depth now. It wasn’t like telling Rory he would teach him how to pee standing up if he needed the help. Or that if he had questions about penises, he would do his best to answer. Harry wasn’t an expert on periods, nor did he feel qualified to answer lots of questions about them. Especially to her girlfriend’s son. “Mummy has products that we bought that help her manage the bleeding,” he answered truthfully.

He glanced at the bag on the seat beside him and his little forehead wrinkled in concentration. It was an expression he most definitely inherited from his mum. It was adorable. “Oh...Mumma carries those sticks in her purse!”

Harry smiled. “Exactly.”

“Does ginger ale make it better?”

“Not exactly. There’s medicine,” he told him. “Mumma just needs t’rest and watch movies. She’ll feel better tomorrow...ice cream might help too.”

He nodded. “Can we make her a snuggle spot on the couch?”

“I think that would be perfect, Rory.”

*

She was already in the TV-watching, resting position on the couch when they returned. Her hair was still damp, and she felt marginally better. “Hey boys,” she smiled sweetly.

Rory was kicking his shoes off and across the room before Harry had shut the door. “Mumma, Harry said that you’re bleeding so we have to give you ice cream and snuggle.”

She smirked at Harry who was full-on blushing as he shrugged out of his wet jacket. “That would help.”

Rory hopped onto the couch and cozied up in front of her. Harry dropped the stuff beside the coffee table and sat next to her legs. He pulled them into her lap and leaned over to gently massage her lower back. “Mumma?” Rory asked.

“Yes, love bug?”

“I don’t think it’s fair you have to bleed, and Harry doesn’t.”

She giggled. “Me either,” she winked at Harry.

*

Harry took care of bedtime and snuggled into bed behind her. His hand may as well have found a direct path to her uterus as he massaged the cramps. “Was I really mean?” She asked.

“No, love. Course not,” he assured her and kissed the back of her head. “S’not your fault y’don’t feel well.”

“Did you teach Rory about periods, Dr. Styles?” She giggled.

He smirked. “Yeah, but I think y’need t’double check m’work,” he admitted. “Nearly convinced him y’were dying.”

She laughed again. “That was...really sweet,” she whispered. “Never...never had someone know what I needed and just go get it,” he pulled her closer. His face tucked into her neck, and he pressed a line of kisses along the curve down to her shoulder.

“Anytime, kitten. Y’jus’ have t’ask,” he reminded her. “Want t’do everything for you,” he squeezed her gently. She rotated in his arms, and she couldn’t see him in the dark, but it didn’t matter. With both hands, she held his face and the back of his head and brought her face closer to his so she could kiss him.

He chuckled against her mouth and returned the kiss. It felt so nice to kiss her every single time. It was warm, gentle, and so filled with love it made him woozy. She sighed softly against his mouth and Harry wanted to be closer, kiss her harder somehow. But settled for the lazy make-out session instead. “I love you so much, kitten,” he rested his forehead against hers.

“I love you so much.”

“Do y’want me t’rub your back again?” He asked quietly.

“I love you more than anything in this world.”

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissinthekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060 @triski73

neighbors taglist: @claimingharrystigertattoo @mopeymousey @vmpellie

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[redwinesupercvnt]

REMINDER

real. people. can. not. queerbait.

since some of you clearly forgot

[cupidsdolll]

word count: 1.1k

summary: harry’s angry at the world, himself included and he makes it everyone’s problem but there might be a light coming in the middle of his storm

notes: this is part two of this fic so it is still considered a dark fic. it contains mentions of drinking to cope with his grief, violence inflicted onto others and a brief scene of it as well.

masterlist

- - - -

To say that Harry’s been miserable lately would be a huge understatement. He’s been absolutely insufferable in the past two weeks. He spends all day drinking and holed up inside his office, he’s grumpy and snappy with everybody and he’s even more mean whenever he has to take care of someone. It’s his release in a way, the one safe space he can let out his anger at the world, at the Gallegos for taking away his love, at himself for not doing more.

“Goddamn! Fuck!” He screams in the confines of his office. He down a shot of whiskey and quickly pours himself another one, the burn going down his throat is welcoming — encouraged is the better word for it. His chest rises and falls harshly as he stares at the picture of her. One he had taken a couple of months into knowing each other, a bright smile on her lips and her hair and dress flowing in the wind behind her as they walked through a park. She had wanted a picnic and he was a sucker for her smile, so of course he’d do it for her. It was all worth it in the end, to see the smile plastered on her face and the excitement in her eyes

He misses her terribly, the past week has been the hardest week ever and he doesn’t know if it’ll get any better. He allows the tears to fall freely, to stain his cheeks and the mahogany oak of his desk. It seems as if his tears are never ending, just becoming a permanent addition to his appearance. He can’t bring himself to care, too busy wallowing in his guilt and pain. He guesses he deserves it in a way, none of this would’ve happened if he’d been paying more attention, if they would’ve stayed home or better yet if he’d never given her his number.

He huffs sadly as he wipes his tears away the best he can, he can’t do anything about the stains left on his cheeks. He takes another shot of whiskey and heads towards his office door, he figures now is as good of a time as any, and really he just can’t wait to let out some tension. He walks out the room and down the hall, ignoring the eyes of the few employees gathered around the desk before rolling his eyes as they start whispering.

“Don’t you all have a fucking job to do? This isn’t Barbie’s show where we all sit around and look pretty.” He huffs before mumbling under his breath, watching them with crossed arms as they scramble to find something to do.

He continues walking then, taking deep breaths to try to hold back the tears threatening to fall. He can’t look weak in front of them. He walks past the framed pictures on the wall, past the rooms where clicking and the occasional scream filters through the closed doors until he gets to the last door in the hall. The dark wooden door detailed with swirls and large black handles is heavy as he pushes it open, but he enjoys the pain. His own form of punishment he guesses.

The room is filled with different tools and weapons, lights scattered all over the ceiling but still keeps the room dark enough. He prefers this environment to feel more like a horror movie than just a simple killing room, and wants it to feel eerie and depressing. He wants the room to inflict absolute sheer terror and feet into anyone who just so happens to end up strapped to the chair. His dress shoes click against the concrete floor, echoing around the room and he watches happily as the man strapped to the chair begins to squirm and try to break free. It’s no use though, he’s mastered the best knot to tie around the body and the chair tightly to keep them from moving but also to inflict pain when they try to escape.

“Well, well, well. Not happy to see me?” He asks in a sickly sweet voice, too sweet to be used in such a setting. The man shakes his head violently as he tries rocking the chair side to side, his screams are muffled behind the tape. Harry simply chuckles, he’s always amused at their useless attempts.

“Now, I just have a couple of questions for you. I just need some information and I believe you should be able to help with this.” He says as he leans down so his face is right in front of the man with tears filling his eyes. The man shakes his head and Harry grabs a handful of his hair, firmly holding him in place.

“So you don’t want to leave? I was gonna let you leave if you answer… but since you don’t think that’s fair.. you’ll be stuck here.” He says and he watches as more tears fall from the man’s eyes and Harry just laughs, everyone wants to be all big and bad until they have to confront their behaviors. They think that no one will be able to catch them, they always underestimate his dedication. He’ll search every corner of the internet and the world just to find someone, and he’s been doing that lately. Searching for hours and hours on the internet to find someone.

He pulls himself back as he smiles, he’s gonna enjoy himself through all this. He starts off small, a few punches and rough tugs of the hair, and he relishes in the muffled cries of the man in front. He rips off the tape and the man screams.

“Who wanted my girl dead and why?” He asks and the man shakes his head.

“I don’t know man!” He says through his tears and shakes his head as if he’s disappointed.

“Such a shame.” He says as he walks to a table full of various weapons and tools of all sizes, he grabs a pair of pliers and walks back to the man, hitting the pliers against his palm.

“Maybe this will ring some answers for you, for every question you don’t answer and I’m not satisfied with the answer I’ll pull one of your teeth out. How does that sound?” The man cries and shakes his head.

“Please man, I’m serious! I don’t know anything!” He cries out and Harry sighs.

“Already onto a bad start, my friend.” He says as he yanks the man’s jaw open as he decides which teeth to pull. As soon as he picks one, the door opens and EJ’s voice rings out.

“Hey boss, sorry to bother you but you have a phone call, it’s important.” Harry shakes his head. He should know better than to interrupt him. He’d hate to have to fire him.

“Uh, I’m busy. Tell them I’ll call back later.” Harry replies back, sarcasm and annoyance dripping from his voiceand the door still stays open.

“It’s the hospital, Y/N. She’s alive.”