#the clothes are nothing like what he wears in the college production In Trousers

[milolovesbmc]

The "I do too" from Marvin after "Do you take this man to be your husband?" in In Trousers absolutely destroyed me so here's this!!!

[ahockeywrites]

One Chance is All Some Get - 3

Part Two // Part Four - Masterlist

Word count: 4.3k Warnings: pineapple on pizza slander, alcohol, allusions to sex, smut, swearing

A/N: I wrote all of this before I went on hiatus and have been struggling to add to it so I thought I would release what I had written as it’s own chapter and continue the rest of it in chapter four. I know I said it would only be three chapters but I want to release something between Tito and Sarah this month. Part four may be here before June? But I really don’t know. Please enjoy, much love, A x

Sarah never particularly liked Valentine’s day, especially when her best friend’s birthday fell in the same week. It made it almost impossible for her to find something for Rebecca that wasn’t covered in roses, hearts or weird ways to express your love for someone. But this Valentine’s was different, she had Anthony. He had planned for the two of them to go to a small Italian restaurant in Tribeca, suggested by Matt, and then to spend the night at his place. He’d gone to find flower petals and candles to place on and around his bed respectively, and he even moved the radio he got as a Christmas gift from Sarah to his room so he could connect his phone to it to play the curated playlist he had made for the night. But Anthony had kept all this from Sarah, simply telling her to dress as she would for a normal date, but to think more about Rebecca’s birthday party.

Rebecca poured out the Gray Goose that Mat had gifted her as a birthday present and picked up the bottle of Sprite that was to the left of her. Mat wrapped an arm around her and whispered in her ear asking if she’d make one for him. Rebecca couldn’t stop giggling as the alcohol was flowing through her veins but quickly made up a drink for Mat. She adjusted the volume of the music and checked that the correct playlist was on before some of their friends arrived.

As Sarah adjusted the puff sleeve of her polka dot bodysuit that was tucked into a pair of leather trousers, Anthony was sponging kisses at the junction between her neck and shoulder, distracting her as she tried to get ready for their evening of partying. She went to pull out a pair of black Chelsea boots from underneath her coat that was in the corner of the room, but when she tried to go and grab them, Anthony pulled her back into his grasp and he wrapped his arms around her waist. “You know,” he started, “we could just stay in tonight.” Anthony started kissing behind her ear and then down her neck, clearly he wanted the night to go a different way.

“Baby,” Sarah elongated the final syllable as she turned around in his grasp. Both of her arms wrapped around his neck and she lifted herself onto her toes to bring him into a kiss. Almost immediately, Anthony tried to deepen it but Sarah pulled away to which he replied with a groan. “We are not staying in, we are here to party with Rebecca and then come back and cuddle afterwards,” she explained. He tried to give her puppy dog eyes, but it was no use, she had been excited about the party for weeks and there was nothing that Anthony could do to stop that.

Sarah and Anthony joined hands and kissed once again before walking out of his room to hear the music blasting from the kitchen. Almost instantly, Mat thrust a drink into each of their hands and almost forced them to down the whole thing but Sarah pushed him out of the way to find Rebecca who was half sprawled out on the couch. Now, these two had been drunk around each other before and the friends who were coming tonight, but this time it wasn’t some student party in a frat house. It was a pre-drinks in the apartment belonging to two hockey players, followed by visiting a private room in one of the most expensive clubs in all of New York.

Around two hours and a lot more drinks later, Rebecca and Mat were dancing on top of the coffee table, with encouragement from some of their college friends as Anthony kept trying to sneak Sarah back into his room with no luck. Well, aside from when she went to go to the bathroom. As she left the bathroom, she noticed that he was sitting on his bed and she crawled up to be in his embrace and it quickly became a passionate make-out session. Anthony was about to reach under Sarah’s bodysuit when Rebecca barged in, insisting that they came and joined in with a game of beer pong. The pair on the bed sighed, but agreed and joined hands before returning to the rest of the party.

It seemed like the rest of the night went like a blur. Sarah remembered meeting some of Anthony’s teammates, but she would need reintroducing to the majority of them because she had consumed quite a bit of alcohol. But she was enjoying herself and Anthony made sure that he was there to bring her back to his flat. She fell asleep on him in the Uber back and he made sure that all of her makeup was off and she was sleeping soundly in his bed.

Sarah’s head pounded and she rubbed her temples slightly to try and reduce the pressure. She heard a groan come from next to her and she realised that she was in Anthony’s apartment, the day after Rebecca’s party. Rolling over, she picked up her phone and dropped a message to Rebecca, asking if she wanted to go and grab some brunch to which she received a quick reply agreeing and they agreed on a place and time and then she actually checked the time. 40 minutes to get ready and 20 to get to the place.

“Tito,” Sarah groaned as she pushed the comforter off her body. The cold air hit her bare legs and it didn’t encourage her to get out of the warm bed at all. Gently, she pushed Anthony to wake him and let him know that she was going out for food later. He groaned with discontent but nodded as Sarah made her way to the ensuite and turned the shower on so the water could warm up. The bathroom counter was scattered with a combination of both Sarah’s and Anthony’s products so it was easy to locate everything that she needed for the quick shower.

The warm water hit her back and Sarah was able to wash away some of the grim that she had collected from the club the night previous. She was so engrossed in the hot streams of water hitting her body, she didn’t notice Anthony slipping in behind her until he wrapped his arms around her waist. He hummed into her neck and started washing her hair for her. His nails scratched her scalp as he was washing her hair and she leant back into his embrace. With a moan of his name, Sarah turned to face her boyfriend. “Baby,” she groaned as he kept massaging her scalp. “I need to get ready.” Anthony hummed in response and washed out the shampoo from her hair and started putting conditioner into the ends of her hair, slowly massaging it in.

“Trust me,” Anthony said as he started washing down the side of Sarah’s body with a washcloth. “You won’t be late for brunch with Rebecca.” Sarah raised an eyebrow, she was confused. How did he know that?

“And you know that how?” She questioned him, wanting to know his reasoning.

“Because,” he pressed a kiss to her forehead, “she had a late night last night.” Sarah hummed as his hands went to massage her shoulder. “And Mat woke her up early for an early morning round.”

It took a few moments for the puzzle pieces to come together in Sarah’s head but when it all fits together, her eyes widened. “You’re joking?” she couldn’t believe that their respective friends had spent the night together.

“Well, unless Mat found a girl who was wearing the exact same shoes as Rebecca was last night,” Anthony started, “and if this girl had the same name as Rebecca because I heard that in moans this morning.” Sarah couldn’t help as her jaw dropped. “And, I saw them come in together when I went to grab some water for us before I went to sleep.”

“Maybe the four of us should go to brunch together then?” Sarah asked, genuinely interested in the budding romance between Mat and Rebecca. Anthony hummed once again in agreement and reached over her to grab the detachable shower head and rinsed the two of them off.

Before getting into the shower, Anthony had made a small pile of towels for them to use which were resting on the side of the sink. He jumped out of the shower first and wrapped himself in one and put the other around Sarah’s shoulders to make sure that her body heat didn’t dissipate too quickly. They walked back through to his bedroom and put on some comfy but cute clothes to wear for the potential brunch double date, both had chosen to wear sweatpants and a comfy jumper.

The New York sun rays came through the large windows of Anthony and Mat’s apartment, hitting the kitchen island and reflecting into Mat’s tired eyes as he started making up two coffees. Milk and two sugars for him, a little bit of almond creamer for Rebecca. He ran a hand over his face to try and wake himself up a bit more but it didn’t work. Even the giggles coming from Anthony’s room, which indicated that something not so innocent might be occurring, didn’t wake him up like they would previously. When the kettle clicked, he filled up the mugs and walked back to find Rebecca looking at him seductively. He couldn’t resist so he put the mugs down on his bedside table and crawled back into his bed.

Anthony pulled out some bacon and eggs from the fridge as Sarah got to work on cutting some fruit up to have alongside their breakfast. It was a domestic situation and one neither of them wanted to be pulled out of. They hadn’t said the words to each other yet, Sarah had never said it to someone outside of her immediate family and Anthony hadn’t said it to anyone where his feelings were as strong as his feelings for Sarah. But both of them knew, in their heads at least, that they were the one. He wrapped his arms around her as she continued chopping up some of the strawberries and placed them onto the sharing platter which also contained banana, grapes and blueberries. As he whispered sweet nothings into her ear, Rebecca entered the kitchen in one of Mat’s old shirts and the mug of coffee that he had made for her earlier.

Rebecca moved to sit at the island and accepted another coffee offered to her by Sarah, who brought the fruit platter along with her. They started talking about the night previous and Anthony just pretended that he couldn’t hear what they were saying so they could talk more freely. There was barely five minutes between Rebecca leaving Mat’s room and him walking into the kitchen as he could smell some bacon cooking. Mat’s neck was littered with small purple bruises and Rebecca let out a small giggle when she noticed what she had done but he just rolled his eyes at her.

“Becca and I were gonna go for brunch,” Sarah announced to the kitchen, “but seeing as we’re all here, might as well save some cash and eat here.”

Both Sarah and Mat tried to keep quiet about what happened but when Anthony told them how noisy they were being, they started explaining what happened before they made it home because Sarah covered her ears in a joking sense when they started to explain that. Anthony couldn’t help but laugh because he knew how innocent his girlfriend was and how she hated talking about anything remotely sexual.

The conversation swiftly changed to the two girls dancing on the table as soon as they arrived and both of them blushed heavily with embarrassment as the memories flooded back to them.

A shot of vodka was handed to each person who entered the private room that had been rented out and Rebecca pulled Sarah towards the open bar and ordered a tequila shot for the both of them to take. They took the shot and Sarah grabbed Anthony’s hand to bring him to the dance floor. It was less dancing, and more socially acceptable grinding on each other.

As he went to grab himself another glass of lemonade from the bar, Rebecca tugged on the sleeve of Sarah’s bodysuit and pointed towards the table. It took a moment for Sarah’s brain to understand what she wanted, but when she did she nodded and they made their way to stand on the table. The song changed to a slightly more upbeat one and the girls started dancing with each other on the table.

Anthony had no idea what was going on until Anders pointed out that his girlfriend was literally on top of the table, dancing with her best friend. He laughed to himself, this was the Sarah he loved seeing. The one who didn’t give a shit what other people thought of her. He walked over to stand next to the table, in case either of them fell off the table. Rather than fall off the table on to the ground, Sarah decided to fall straight into her boyfriend’s arms. “I fell for you baby,” she giggled into his neck. Rebecca continued to dance on the table as Mat joined her and some of the Islanders started filming him and they would break out the videos over the next few days when he was more sober.

Sarah groaned as her headache came back and she wandered into Anthony’s bathroom to find some more painkillers as she knew that she had to finish off an essay that was due on the 15th and she wanted to get it finished. She had morning classes but she had planned the afternoon to get ready for her date with Anthony so she didn’t really want to spend that time finishing up the essay when she could be relaxing. A quick text to both Anthony and Rebecca meant that an Uber was ordered and was going to arrive about 10 minutes later so she quickly gathered her stuff up, then laid down on the bed waiting for the Uber to arrive.

Anthony walked into his bedroom to see Sarah breathing deeply on the bed. Immediately, he laid down behind her on the bed and brought her into a hug. “You okay baby?” he asked, wanting to make sure that she was okay. She nodded meekly in response but he didn’t believe her. “You can talk to me, you know that,” he didn’t want to force her to talk when she wasn’t comfortable, but he knew that talking was always helpful.

“Gotta get this assignment done, then I’ll be okay,” Sarah replied. The essay she had to write was really getting to her and she just wanted it to be over and get it submitted so she could look forward to spending the evening with Anthony.

“I get that,” he responded as he started rubbing down her back to comfort her. “Just think about the fourteenth, and the place I’m gonna take you that I won’t tell you about.” Sarah smiled softly at that, and she relaxed into his arms, waiting for the Uber to arrive.

~~

Both Sarah and Rebecca pressed submit on their respective assignments at the same time as taking a vodka shot in celebration. The pair hi-fived as they ordered themselves a large amount of pizza to eat as they watched the Islanders home game against the Flyers. It was normal for them to relax in the evenings, but that evening it was slightly different as they were celebrating. Well, at least for a small amount of time. Food arrived much quicker than either of them were expecting and they started eating the pizza as Mat and Anthony started skating around the ice in warm-ups.

Sarah took a quick snap of the television and the food and sent it to Anthony, along with her usual good luck message. His usual response followed a slightly sweaty selfie which made Sarah slightly hot and bothered but she was able to suppress the feelings and then picked up another slice of pizza. Pepperoni, mushrooms, sweetcorn and onions were her toppings of choice and this always got her teased by Rebecca who ordered ham and pineapple. In Sarah’s books, that was a criminal offence. Pineapple on a pizza? Who did that? Aside from Rebecca, she didn’t know anyone else who actually enjoyed pineapple on a pizza. Even Mat, who had some questionable food tastes, didn't even enjoy pineapple on pizza.

A groan escaped Sarah’s lips as she finished off the final slice of her pizza. She was absolutely stuffed full of pizza and potato wedges, which were the perfect stomach lining for the small amount of alcohol that she had been consuming. The third period had just started and all Sarah was hoping for was a Beauvillier goal so she could celebrate with him tomorrow after they went out for dinner. She was in luck as Anthony, once again, scored the game-winning goal and celebrated into the camera, all of the fans at home seemed to think that he was dedicating the goal to them but Anthony knew that he was dedicating it to one person. And one person only. Sarah Milkins.

The annoying tones of the FaceTime sound ran through Sarah’s AirPods as she sat in bed, thinking about heading to sleep as her morning class started at 8 am and she knew that she couldn’t be awake for too much longer. A shirtless Anthony greeted her on the other side of the camera, still buzzing from the win. The couple chatted for a bit until Anthony noticed that Sarah was yawning and her replies became slower and she kept falling asleep for a few moments before jolting back awake.

“Ma chérie,” Anthony spoke softly, “I think it’s time for you to sleep. Your future self will thank you.” The response that came through the phone was a deep groan from Sarah, still half asleep. She nodded gently and said her goodbyes to her boyfriend but something slipped out that she didn’t intend to say. The three words she wanted to save for a special time.

“I love you,” Sarah whispered as she fell asleep. Anthony wasn’t able to reply as he wanted to, well, at least so that his girlfriend could hear. However, he still replied with the same three words in a hushed tone. Even though he said those words, he was still freaking out. How would he bring it up when they saw each other the next day? Would she remember what she said? He had to get up out of bed and have a shower so he could try and relax. It didn’t help much and his sleep that night was broken and restless. He woke up on Valentine’s day morning, not well rested for morning skate and Mat refused to even talk to him because of how grumpy he was without his morning coffee.

Sarah slept in slightly longer than she intended but made it to her early morning class. She didn’t even have time to think over what she said on the call. It wasn’t like she didn’t remember, she did, but between a shower, a super-strong coffee and a train that arrived two minutes late, she did not have enough time to think about anything other than the content of the class. When she got home, that was when it sunk in.

“Oh my god,” she gasped to herself, putting one of her palms over her mouth as she realised what she had said to him. She wished that she had more time to think over what she said but she knew that if she wanted to be ready for 5, which was the time that Anthony said he was going to swing by her apartment to pick her up. As Sarah rummaged through her wardrobe, a particular box was what she was looking for, her phone pinged informing her of a new text message. It was a message from Anthony, they hadn’t been talking too frequently throughout the day as they were both very busy.

Tito <3: 5 o’clock still good for you?xx

Sarah <3: yep! I’m back at the apartment now getting ready. can’t wait to see you later xx

Tito <3: can’t wait to see you either xx

The black box was something of an impulse purchase. Well, not the box, its contents. A set of black, lace lingerie that she was going to wear underneath the black dress she had chosen to wear for the evening. She laid out the lingerie and the dress on her bed and made her way to the bathroom to have a quick shower.

Quick really meant quick as Sarah was in and out of the hot stream of water in less than 10 minutes and she sat down in front of her vanity to touch up the makeup she had put on at the beginning of her day. She brushed her fingertips over the delicate lace as she reached over the back of her chair. It was beautiful and intricate and Sarah couldn’t wait any longer to put it on.

Soft fabric cups and a light underwire gently supported her breasts, pushing them up slightly, and the thin fabric that rested on her hips covered just enough to still be considered a pair of underwear. The dress, however, was the opposite, having full-length sleeves and finishing just below her knees. It made Sarah feel comfortable but also beautiful.

It took 10 short minutes for Sarah to quickly restyle her hair before a knock on the door made her break out of the world she had made for herself. The shoes she had decided to wear were resting against the side of her bed so she slipped her feet through the straps and did the small buckle up before walking out of her room to meet Anthony in the hallway. He was wearing a black pair of suit trousers along with a light purple shirt, the first few buttons undone exposing his toned chest. As Sarah started walking towards her boyfriend, he extended his arm to offer her his hand, which she accepted and he pulled her into a hug.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered into her freshly done hair and she had to thank the layer of foundation that she had put on earlier so that no one could see the blush forming on her cheeks. They swayed in each other’s embrace for a few moments before Anthony released Sarah so she could go and get her bag that was resting on her vanity. He tapped his foot a few times to distract himself from the tightening in his trousers but when Sarah exited her room, he led her to the front door, opening it for her and walked her to his car that he parked a few moments walk away.

The waiter poured each of them a glass of wine as they browsed the menu, chatting about what they had been doing recently. Sarah laughed slightly too loudly at some of the stories that Anthony was retelling, maybe some of those things that happened on the road should be kept on the road, and was thankful that they were sat in the corner of the busy restaurant. She was also thankful that Anthony had picked a relatively early reservation as it meant that fewer people would notice them as they went into and out of the restaurant.

Sarah had drunk more of the bottle of wine than Anthony as he was driving them back to his place, and she was quite giggly on the drive home but she quickly sobered up as she cuddled up to Anthony on the soft couch at his apartment. From somewhere, Anthony had pulled a bag of popcorn out for them to share as they lazily watched a film as the street lights started streaming into the living room.

Around halfway through the movie, Anthony slipped his hands down to rest on Sarah’s butt and she leaned in to kiss him. Quickly, the movie was forgotten and the kisses kept getting more heated. Her legs wrapped around his waist as Anthony stood up and walked the short distance to his room.

The kisses gained in intensity quickly and Sarah began to unbutton Anthony’s dress shirt. He groaned into her mouth as his hand slipped under the skirt of her dress, fingertips ghosting over the intricate lace. The dress shirt slipped over Anthony’s shoulders and Sarah’s nimble hands made quick work of his belt buckle, removing it from under the belt loops to pull down the suit trousers he was wearing.

Before Sarah could readjust her weight to her knees, Anthony spun her around to unzip her dress. As it fell to the floor, he bit his bottom lip to suppress a moan that would have been embarrassingly loud. The underwear she had paired with the bra barely covered anything and as Sarah turned around he was able to take in her beauty.

“Baby,” Anthony groaned as he pulled her into his chest, so her back was flush with his exposed torso. Sarah looked up into his blue eyes which were deep with lust.

“Tito,” Sarah whispered. Was this the right time? Was Valentine's Day too cliche? “I love you, Anthony.” Her breathing quickened as she waited for a response from him, maybe it was too soon. Negative thoughts flooded her head as she waited.

Barely a second had passed before he spoke, “Sarah, I love you too.” They kissed for what seemed like hours, simply tasting each other, enjoying the embrace of the other. The sex they engaged in was soft, gentle, their orgasms built slowly and the grip that Sarah had on Anthony’s hand only tightened as she reached her high and as she tightened around him, his high was quick to follow. Anthony wrapped Sarah in his arms as the pair fell asleep, but not before they whispered the three words to each other once again.

[wowweeharrystyles]

Part 2 | Opening Night & The First Note| 7k words

‘Sequins & Zippers’ Summary: An internship with Harry Lambert transformed into a job of a lifetime - Aurora Del Gatto finds herself touring the world with the one & only Harry Styles as his ‘Head of Wardrobe.’ Aurora is nothing but nerves & excitement as she packs her bags & almost 100 custom designer suits that belong to an unbelievably kind rockstar. She never thought she’d fall in love on top of it all.

warnings: mentions of anxiety. 

Read Part 1 Here

Masterlist 

--------

St. Jakobshalle is busy when Aurora arrives at the arena that afternoon. Crew members she met in London were buzzing around doing just about exactly what they were doing there, but now in Switzerland. It’s a bit trippy for Aurora because though she may be in a completely different city, in a completely different country, the arena looks and feels almost the exact same. She has to remind herself several times that she’s in Switzerland and that today really is the 1st night of the tour. Everyone is called for at the stage at 2pm. Harry makes a small speech again and thanks everyone for their hard work. Boxes of reusable water bottles, branded with “Treat People With Kindness” are passed around as well and they match the sweatshirts a lot of people are sporting today. They take a group photo in the elevated seating closest to the stage and there’s a chorus of cheers when Jeff tells everyone to go back to work and that there’s 5 hours till curtain. They haven’t even completed the first show of the tour but the atmosphere and energy between everyone already feels like a family of sorts. When Aurora catches a glimpse of Harry as she heads to the dressing rooms she can’t help but feel overly endeared by the bright smile on his face and crinkles at his eyes. 

Aurora heads to the band’s dressing room to set up their clothing for the night. She’s steaming Adam’s suit when Sarah walks in. 

“Aurora!” She exclaims walking over to her and hugging her after she’s set the steamer aside. “Flight alright?” She asks after pulling away and sitting down on the couch.

“Absolutely! I slept the entire time,” she goes back to steaming while talking to Sarah. “and what about you?” 

“Too excited to sleep,” she chuckles. “Flight was still good though.” 

Sarah stays with Aurora while she steams the all of the pieces for the band. Aurora really likes

Sarah and her calm energy is nice in the excited and busy arena. 

“So who have you toured with before?” Sarah asked as the 2 of them find their way around the arena in search of some snacks before Sarah has to get to sound check and Aurora has to prep Harry’s suit. 

“Oh,” Aurora is surprised by the question, “I’ve never done this before. I-I graduated college last May.” 

“You’re joking right? I mean, you were in New York with Lambert for the album release, yeah?” Aurora nods. “So you had to have a good recommendation or experience before that to be thrown into the hustle and bustle that comes along with working with Harry.” Aurora chuckles as they round the corner and walk into the room where Craft Services is. They both start to fill a plate and Aurora fills up a coffee cup as well. For Aurora, coffee is the answer to everything.

“No seriously, Sarah. Keep this on the DL but I legit have no idea what I’m doing most of the time.” Sarah laughs along with Aurora. “I met Lambert while I was studying abroad in London. Got my internship with him from there. And now magically I’m here.” 

“Maybe a little magic involved, but you’re talented, Aurora. You know what you’re doing and from where I’m standing you look like a seasoned veteran on this crew.” 

The jet lag is without a doubt kicking Aurora’s ass already and it was only day 1 of the tour. She made a mental note to google some ways to beat it. Aurora treks her way to a dressing room that’s labeled ‘Creative Crew’ - a room just for her, Ayae, Helene and a few others she barely has met. She set her bag in there when she first arrived that morning and remembered a couch that sounded like the best thing ever to her right now. She finds the dressing room empty and she’s thankful for it. Plopping down on the couch, she dozes off immediately. 

15 minutes later her alarm goes off. She knows herself too well and always, always, always sets an alarm for a nap because she will sleep for hours on hours otherwise. She slides her shoes back on and grabs Harry’s wardrobe notebook from her bag and makes her way to Harry’s dressing room to get his suit set for the show. She’s steaming Harry’s black button down when she lets out a yawn, desperate for another coffee. She thinks the nap might have done more damage than good. 

Ayae joins her in Harry’s dressing room only a few minutes later to start setting up her things to refresh Harry’s hair and what not. Ayae and Aurora talk through their excitement for the show that night, Aurora realising that she gets to witness the show every night. She had always loved concerts, Broadway shows, plays her friends were in during college, anything. She tells Ayae how she’s never seen a performance she truly didn’t like. Their conversation is cut off when Harry walks through the door right after the 15min call for the opener went over the intercoms. 

“Right on schedule, as always,” Ayae remarks to Harry, who has a fresh t shirt and shorts on, and his curls hang in wet heavy ringlets. “Soundcheck go alright?” She asks. 

“Mhm,” he hums making his way fully into the dressing room. “And I even brought coffee for the both of you.” He hands Ayae hers before turning towards Aurora. “Heard you snuck in a nap earlier…” he comments after Aurora takes a sip. 

“How did you-?” Her jaw drops slightly before she starts to question him.

“I have people, Ror,” he chuckles before sitting down in the chair set up in front of Ayae’s products and the large vanity mirror. “Don’t give me that look... just drink your coffee, love.” He’s making eye contact with her through the mirror and Ayae is quietly giggling at the 2 of them. 

Aurora busies herself with the steamer and doing some finishing touches on Harry’s pants, and of  course drinks her coffee. She grabs the new pair of his Gucci boots and takes them out of the box.

“You need socks for these boots or are the ones you’re wearing okay?” She asks while setting the boots near the couch that’s adorn in Harry’s own Gucci throw pillows. 

“I’ve just got Nike socks on right now, do you have any actual trouser socks?” 

“Yup! That’s all I’ve got, actually.”

A few minutes later she’s handing him his trousers off the hanger for him to change into. Just like a few days ago in London, he drops his shorts revealing his black Calvin Klein boxer briefs before Aurora can turn around again. She lets out a small “oope” as she turns. It’s not until now that she realises her and Harry are the only 2 left in the room. 

“Are you blushing, Ror?” Harry’s voice is soft but Aurora heard it loud and clear. She chooses to ignore it and picks up the coffee he brought her and lets out a hum. The coffee in her hands keeps them busy and still as she turns back around to him. He’s buttoning his trousers now and slipping off his tshirt. “Hmm?” He gives her a questioning look. 

“What?” she asks now giving him his shirt, coffee still in one hand. His eyes meet hers and the eye contact starts a buzzing feeling in her finger tips. The green in his eyes are lighter than she’s seen before the gaze is so intense that she can’t look away. 

“Nothing,” he breaks eye contact with a chuckle and takes his shirt from her. Aurora whispers a soft ‘alright.’ Once he buttons up the shirt he turns towards the full length mirror that’s attached to the inside of the open wardrobe case. He’s fumbling with the long pieces of fabric that almost touch the floor. There’s a slight furrow in his brows as he attempts to tie the fabric into a bow. “Aurora, could ya help me out?” he asks while still fumbling with it. “Pesky, little, fu-” 

“That’s what I’m here for,” she says with a smile and motioning with her hands for him to turn towards her again. She ties it on the 1st try and is pleased with the look of it. “There,” she steps back slightly and then tilts her head at him. “Ohhh actually looks a bit tight,” she steps closer to him again and is slips her pointer finger between the collar and his neck trying to move it a little bit, “yup, that definitely won’t do.” She notices the goosebumps that arise on his neck and quickly removes her hand. She unties the bow to start over. 

“Are ya gonna watch the show?” Harry asks quietly while Aurora continues to tie the bow on the collar of his shirt. 

“Yeah I’m hoping to get a glimpse of it from the side of the stage.” She’s untied and re-tied this bow several times now. 

“Know ya can watch it from the audience with this little thing, yeah?” Harry gently tugs on the tour pass with her name and face on it that’s hooked around her belt loop. “That cute little picture’ll get you anywhere in the arena.” Aurora is too frustrated with the bow around Harry’s neck to react to his comment. 

“Oh, didn’t know I could go out there,” Aurora lets out a huff dropping her hands to her side. The fabric that should be tied in a bow lays long against Harry’s torso. “Well at this rate, I won’t have to go out in the audience cause you won’t even be onstage ‘cause this bow just isn’t cooperating.” There’s a flash and click sound that startles both of them. They snap their heads to the door. 

“Sorry,” Helene squeaks out with her french accent. “Quite liked the look of the 2 of you there.” 

“Oh, hi Helene!” Aurora says reaching up to harry’s collar again. She loops the fabric one last time and gets the bow just right. “There we go!” she exclaims, dropping her hands to her side in relief. 

“Harry, I’d love to get some photos of you with your band before you hit the stage. If that’s alright with you, of course.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that too!” Harry smiles at Helene. “Just gotta finish up here with Ror and brush my teeth, then I’m all yours.” 

“Perfect! I’ll meet ya in a 15 then?” Harry nods a ‘yes’ to Helene before she walks out. He turns around to look at the finished bow in the mirror. “Looks perfect.” 

Aurora slides the black sequined jacket from the hanger. “Here,” she holds the jacket by the top of the lapels ready for him to slide his arms into it. Harry shrugs into the jacket and Aurora helps him situate it properly on his shoulders. “Turn around for me?” Harry is silent as he turns around. Aurora is hyper aware of his silence now while she makes sure the lapels on the jacket are laying flat and his shirt collar is sitting perfectly under the jacket. She notices his change in demeanor and the familiarity of it. “I would keep it buttoned for as long as you can on stage to really show off the look, but definitely unbutton it when you’re dancing around.” She buttons the jacket closed for him. “Don’t want you ripping anything while on stage. Or a button flying and hitting someone in the eye…” she jokes. He doesn’t laugh with her which causes her to look up at him. “Harry, you alright?” He shakes his head pulling himself out of his distracted silence. 

“Uh yeah, sorry. Got it. Keep it buttoned, un button it when I’m dancing. No injuring anyone.” The words come out of his mouth much faster than normal.

“I know what nerves look like, Harry. No need to hide it from me.” His face has softened but he goes silent again. “I used to get so nervous before dancing on stage. I would come off stage and my tongue felt numb from the adrenaline and nerves and 9 times out of 10 I couldn’t remember what I had just done.” She hands him his new socks and boots. He’s looking at her with a softness in his eyes that neither of them could truly describe. 

“You’re a dancer?” She sighs at his response, finally loosening up again. 

“Used to be, yeah.” She explains how she used to compete and how her mom always made her dance costumes and that’s how she ended up studying fashion design. The story distracts Harry from his nerves while he puts his boots on. He smooths out his pants and looks towards Aurora. 

“Thanks, Ror,” his hand is at her hip and pulling her in for a hug. He’s holding on to her tightly for a long moment and she relaxes into his arms. When he pulls away he speaks up again, “for helping me get ready and ya know, just being around, I guess.” 

“That’s what I’m here for.” She smiles at him and then checks her watch. “You should probably get going, Helene and your band are waiting for you.” 

“Yeah, of course.” He’s smiling at her again, gives her a quick kiss on the cheek and grabs his small black toiletry bag and heads to the bathroom. 

“Good luck, Harry!” she shouts at him while leaving his dressing room. 

After the show, Aurora meets Harry back in his dressing room to gather his suit and pack everything back up.

“Well looks like your bow didn’t make it through the show.” It’s the first thing he says as he walks in the room. He tosses an empty water bottle into the bin by the couch. Aurora pouts remembering how frustrated she was and then shakes her head at Harry. 

“It’s your crazy dance moves’ fault not mine. That bow was perfect and you can’t deny that.” 

“So ya saw the show?” There’s a spark in his eyes and Aurora writes it off as post stage adrenaline. 

“Course I did,” she smiles back at him. “I’ve got your clothes here from earlier, didn’t know if you wanted to throw those on after the show or not.” He’s racking a hand through his sweaty, messy hair before he takes his jacket off and hands it to Aurora. 

“Uhm,” he’s thinking about what the plans are for the night. “My suitcase is still here yeah?” She nods. “I’ll change into something from there then.” He’s rifling through his case now. “Did ya like the show then?” 

“Harry, it was incredible,” she exclaims while taking each piece of clothing from him as he takes them off. 

“Sorry everythings a bit sweaty,” he giggles as he hands her his trousers last. 

“I’ve dealt with worse.” She hangs everything up individually so they can air out before they’re put away. “But seriously, the show was so so good. I loved the new songs you added to your setlist!”

Harry has made his way towards the bathroom that is attached to the dressing room with a set of clean clothes in his hand. “Thanks, love.” his smile is so big that his dimples are making a show and his eyes go all crinkly. He’s lingering in the bathroom door way. 

“I’ll come back later to put everything away,” she says as she grabs a few of her things she had in his room from earlier. “Again, amazing show, Harry. Excited to be here. Have a good night.” and with that she gives a small wave at him and leaves him be. 

Aurora quite likes life on tour. In less than 4 days she’s been to Switzerland, spent a full day being a tourist in Paris and this morning she woke up in Amsterdam. She quite likes seeing Harry every day as well. There’s only been 3 shows so far but the time her and Harry have together before and after the shows goes by much faster than she would like and unknown to her, Harry is feeling exactly the same. 

When she arrives at the Ziggo Dome in Amsterdam later that morning she drops her stuff in the green room. She’s searching for Helene when she runs into Jeff. 

“Aurora! Just the person I was looking for,” he says as he stops her. “This is for you,” he pulls a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and hands it to her. He gives her a smirk before rushing off to take care of something that had just came over his headset before she can ask any questions or thank him.

She carefully unfolds the paper and scribbled in half cursive half all caps printed handwriting is just a few words. meet me by bstage at 12:15. I’ll bring coffee. Harry’s name is signed at the bottom. Then, (only if you want of course.) is scribbled under his name. Her jaw drops before she’s giggling at his inherent kindness. She checks her watch, 11:58. Suddenly she can feel her heartbeat in her throat and the tops of her ears are flushed. She jumps when her phone rings from her pocket. 

“Hi mom!” Aurora starts walking around the arena a little distracted by her mom on the phone and the letter that is folded up in her hands. “Mom, can I actually call you in a little bit? I’ve gotta.. uhh... I’ve got a lot to do to prep today and wanna get ahead of it before it gets crazy.” Aurora stops to the side of the hallway and slides the paper in her pocket, noticing the shoes she put on this morning. “Great. Love you most! Talk to you soon.” The sneakers. She finally decided to wear the Gucci sneakers. She sighs, a small smile creeping up on her face. 

The inside of the arena is set up for the concert already and there’s a dim glow through the whole space. She can see Harry sitting on the edge of the bstage, legs swinging slightly and his hands clasped together in his lap. When the door closes behind Aurora it echoes and Harry’s head whips to her. From all the way across the arena, she can make out the huge, dopey grin on his face. It’s one that elicits a dimple on his cheek and makes her ears flush again. She shoves her hands into the pockets of the jean jacket she’s got on, smiling back at him. When she’s closer Harry pushes himself off the stage. 

“Ror! Hi!” He looks like sunshine she thinks. Is it the yellow shirt he’s wearing? Is it the sparkle in his eye even though the arena is fairly dark? Is it that damn dimple or the crinkles around his eyes? Or is it- Her thoughts are cut off when he pulls her into a hug. Both of his arms are strong around her torso and she can tell he’s bent down a little because she is easily wrapping her own arms around his shoulders, hands finding a home near his neck. Harry has a bit of stubble on his face and she can feel as he nuzzles his head against her cheek before pressing a kiss there. “Happy you came,” he whispers against her neck. Aurora lets out a hum as he squeezes his arms around her just a little tighter, “so happy.” 

“Hi Harry,” she whispers back fighting the grin that inevitably appears. She buries her face into the crook of his neck. It seems that their hugs get closer and closer every time. A different wall of boundaries and insecurities breaking down between the two of them each time. He’s warm just like sunshine. Neither of them know who broke the hug but they slowly pull apart and Aurora’s cheeks flush as Harry’s bright green eyes locked with hers. 

They make small talk about their mornings and their flights from the night before. Aurora’s following close to Harry’s side as he walks around the arena, sipping her coffee that he promised her. He’s got tea in his cup. He reaches his free hand out to her when they reach steps that reach the farthest seats in the arena. She places her hand in his, slowly and he quickly grips her hand, pulling her along the steps behind him. 

“Harry, where are we going?” He laughs in response. “What’re we doing?” She’s laughing with him now. 

“Trust me, yeah?”

“Harry, I barely know you…” she trails off, a hint of joke in her voice. 

“But you still trust me, yeah?” he questions again. She doesn’t need to think before nodding at him with a small smile. He’s taking her all the way up the stairs and then through a door at the top of the arena. “I’ve watched a lot of Criminal Minds, Harry, I know how this ends!” she jokes at him. His laugh echoes through the hall they’re walking through now and she can’t help but let her smile grow. They go through one more door and Harry let’s go of her hand, the door closing behind them. In front of Aurora is a huge window that looks out over Amsterdam. 

“I remember finding this room back when I was touring with the boys.”

“Was that when you wore the orange jumpsuits?” Aurora asks with a laugh before she realises what she might have revealed. Harry looks at her with a smirk. 

“Ror… don’t tell me… you were a-” There’s a short moment of silence 

“Ugg yessss. Yes, I was a fan,” she blurts out. She’s rolling her eyes at herself for getting into this situation. “Makes you question bringing me up here, huh?” she jokes hoping he isn’t thinking about his invite twice. 

Before she knows it, he’s throwing an arm around her shoulder with a loud laugh. “I had a feeling.” Her shoulders drop, not having realised she tensed up at all. 

“My mom found my old posters and said I should bring them with me for you to sign.” She smiles up at him. 

“and did you?” 

“Though it might be weird if I were to bring a poster of Niall Horan on the Harry Styles World Tour,” she says with a straight face. Harry huffs and is silent for a moment. 

“Wait… are you serious?” 

“Dead serious.” Harry’s face changes. Is he jealous? She raises onto her tippy toes and presses a kiss to his cheek, well it’s more his jaw than his cheek. She doesn’t know what’s come over her. She’s rarely this bold, but the look on his face has turned her brain to mush she thinks. His face relaxes eventually. There’s a bit of silence between them before she speaks up again. “Why’d you bring me up here, Harry?” she asks finally. 

His arm that was wrapped around her shoulder finds its way to her waist. “Gets a bit lonely sometimes,” his fingertips dig slightly into her waist. A wash of warmth and shivers simultaneously cover her. Lonely. “It’s nice to share stuff sometimes,” he trails off, “just not with the whole world.” 

“I wish I could say that I get it and I’m sure you hear that all the time,” she lets the feeling of his hand at her waist pull her closer to his side, “but I’m happy to be here with you.” Aurora pulls her hands out of the pockets in her jacket. She mirrors his previous actions and lightly slides her arm around his waist. He digs his fingertips into her waist again and she can feel a breath leave his body, heavier than a sigh but barely audible. It isn’t till then that she realises how close their torsos are slotted together. She can feel every little movement from him and she’s suddenly aware of how she can feel the heat of his skin through the tshirt that’s draped perfectly over his body. Every square inch of her body that is in contact with his feels tingly and warm. She thinks if she were to pull away from him there would be red light where she was in contact with him. She does the exact opposite of pulling away from him. She turns her whole body towards him falling into his torso even more. She isn’t sure if it’s because she’s a little homesick or that her anxiety is making it hard to settle into the tour life, but something about Harry feels familiar and comfortable. “Hey, Harry,” she says quietly receiving a hum in response as he turns his head towards her, “uhm, I’m having a really great time on tour,” she decides to say. How do I tell him that something about this feels right? Familiar? That I’m  feeling a bit homesick and he’s somehow managed to wipe it away for the time being? She can see a smile start at his lips out of the corner of her eye. “Honestly, can’t believe this is my job,” she adds. 

His tongue clicks on his teeth, “You’re just saying that cause you’re here with me.” It comes out with a bit of a whine in his voice. 

“Nuh uh.” She shakes her head slightly before meeting his eyes. 

“Well,” he pauses, not breaking eye contact, “I’m having a good time too.” He’s smiling at her and somehow pulls her into him even closer. 

“Your shows say it all. Always look like you’re having the time of your life up there.” She’s smiling back at him, flashes of him performing appear behind her eyelids as she blinks. 

“The shows are always great, best part of my job.” His smile grows and it’s toothy and his dimples are visible again. “But I’m having a good time,” he pauses, “right now.” 

They stay silent for a little and look out at the view in front of them. Harry points out a few of things on the Amsterdam skyline, making corny jokes and a few puns as he continues on about tulips and windmills. He looks down at her again and uses the arm around her torso to turn her to face him completely, his hands clasping together at her lower back. Her hands landing flat on his chest without thinking. 

“Nice sneakers,” he smirks down at her. She presses her lips together, fighting a smile or a laugh, she’s not really sure. She looks up at him through her eyelashes. 

“Thanks, can’t remember where they’re from.” His hands shift at her back and he’s pulling her closer. He leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead, then her cheek. 

“Damn,” he furrows his brows at the wall behind her. “I should really be getting back, I’ve got soundcheck… well I should’ve been at sound check 5 minutes ago.” She turns around to look at the clock breaking away from his hold. 

“We’ve been up her for almost 2 hours?” They both lock eyes before they’re laughing with each other. 

They go back a different way and end up at the back of the stage when they re-enter the arena no more than 2 minutes later. Aurora’s about to head to the dressing room and leave Harry to do his sound check but he pulls on her hand and his hands quickly find their way around her in a tight hug. She’s starting to get used to his hugs and his hands constantly at her waist or holding her hands. “I’ll see ya in a little bit, okay?” She nods against his chest. “Thanks for entertaining me, Ror.” He places one last lingering kiss to her cheek and before she knows it he’s on stage and his voice is booming through the speakers in the arena and she’s still standing there in awe of her afternoon. 

“Where’ve you been today?” Helene asks Aurora as she’s making a plate for dinner. 

“Oh, uhm, I’ve-” Aurora doesn’t really know what to tell her. She assumes if Harry wanted her to be hush about their afternoon that he would’ve said something. “I was with Harry,” she says quickly, adding a spoonful of hummus on her plate. 

“You were- you were with Harry?” Aurora blushes. “Aurora. Tell me everything.”

“Not much to tell.” She thinks the less she says the better. 

“Uh huh… I don’t believe you. Your cheeks are as red as the tomatoes on your plate.” 

“Okay, okay,” she says as they sit down at an empty table. She pulls the note from her pocket and hands it to Helene. She raises her eyebrows up at her while she unfolds the paper. 

“Aurora, oh mon dieu,” she voices, her french accent heavier when actually speaking French. “So you met him, then?” Aurora nods while picking at the plate in front of her. “Continue…” she urges her. 

Aurora tells Helene about her time with Harry while they finish their dinner and head back to the dressing rooms. Helene continues to ask questions about the afternoon and is picking apart every detail that Aurora has shared. They both grab everything they’ll need for the rest of the night, Helene, her camera and Aurora, her look book. Aurora also trades her jean jacket for her ‘Harry World Tour’ hoodie. 

“So you think you guys will hang out more?” Aurora is silent for a moment as they turn the corner. “Aurora?” 

“I mean, I want to but…” she trails off, “I don’t know. Not like this a normal situation… and it’s only the 1st week of tour. There’s still 4 months ahead of us.” 

“Yeah, so?” 

“What if something happens?” 

“Don’t you want something to happen?” Helene questions Aurora as they enter Harry’s empty dressing room. Harry’s own Gucci throw pillows already place perfectly on the empty couch and his suitcase is set off to the corner. 

“Honestly, I don’t know. Guess I’m a bit scared.”

“Being a little scared is probably good.” Helene is setting up her camera, changing lenses and taking a few test shots of the room. “I mean, if there’s any feelings, whatever they are or may be, then it would be worth seeing where it goes. I don’t know Harry all too well yet but he seems genuine.” Aurora smiles at Helene at the comment. “Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be careful and I don’t want to scare you more but his life is much different than either of ours.” Helene can hear Aurora sigh across the room. “Just be careful, yeah?” 

“Yeah, you’re right, there’s no way to tell what will happen. Guess I’ll just take it as it goes?” 

“Think that’s best.” 

“This is also my job, my career…”

“Don’t think of your job and your relationship with Harry in the same space. You’ve gotta separate work and pleasure. Always.” Aurora giggles at that. “You good? I wanted to get some photos of the empty arena and the lines outside before they open the doors.” 

Aurora thanks Helene for letting her blab about her afternoon and is thankful for the alone time she’s greeted with once she leaves. Aurora grabs her headphones and calls her mom back as she goes to prep Clare, Sarah, Mitch and Adam’s clothes. She knows they’ll all be busy for at least another hour before they come back to their dressing rooms. 

Aurora doesn’t tell her mom about her afternoon with Harry. She does tell her that she loves tour life but is still a bit homesick. Her mom tells her about the new kitchen appliances they got for the house, some drama between some of their neighbors about grass upkeep and how they’re already counting down the days till the MSG shows when they get to see Aurora. As their conversation lingers on Aurora heads back to Harry’s dressing room. She smiles when she remembers what he’s sporting tonight. 

“Mom, I’ll definitely have to send you a photo of what he’s wearing tonight.”

“More Gucci?” She jokes.

“Surprisingly no!” She laughs along. “It’s actually a new designer, still in school too. I actually met him when I was at CSM when I met Lambert as well.” She pulls the Harris Reed ensemble out and hangs it on the empty rolling rack and taps the steamer on. “Not a classic suit in the slightest, flared pants with a chiffon insert at the flare, quite a frilly button up shirt and a cropped black vest. Pretty excited to see him perform in this.” Her mom gushes over the idea of The Harry Styles dancing around stage in something so unique. That leads her mom into questions about Harry - how is he, what’s he really like, are you friends, and does he have groups of women following him around all the time like you think a rockstar does. Aurora hushes her mom and gives her very short, minimal answers. 

“Mom, he’s really busy, I barely even see him.” She knows if she really starts talking about Harry

that her mom will be able to hear it in her voice. Her mom knows her all too well. 

Harry walks in just as she wrapping up the phone call with her mom. 

“Nice sweatshirt,” he says not seconds after she says goodbye to her mom. He smirks at her as he sits down in the chair in front of the vanity. Ayae hasn’t arrived yet. Aurora glances at her watch before tugging at one of the strings on her hoodie. She notices he’s starting to show up in his dressing room earlier and earlier each night.

“When do I get a sweatshirt with my name on it?” she asks turning back to the frilled shirt Harry will be adorned in later that evening.

“Probably never,” he says slyly. She whips her head around at him, shock written all over her face. “Quite like the look of my name on you.” He says it so nonchalantly. He’s not even looking at her when he says it. He’s messing around on his phone. She’s frozen while looking at his form sitting so casually in the chair, scrolling through his phone. She huffs in disbelief, barely able to process the words that had come out of his mouth. She was right. He lifts his head when she doesn’t say anything. When their eyes meet in the mirror she slowly turns back to her work. Little does she know that there’s a smirk appearing on his face as he goes back to messing about on his phone. 

“I had a feeling,” she boldly whispers to herself, half hoping he doesn’t hear her and half he actually does. 

“What was that, love?” he asks. He heard her she knows for sure but she plays along. 

“Oh nothing.” The room is quite silent for a few minutes apart from the noise the steamer makes once and a while. 

About 30 minutes later, Ayae finishes Harry’s hair and makeup. She’s cleaning up her stuff as Harry slides into the Harris Reed flared pants.

“Ror, I had fun today,” he speaks up once Ayae leaves. Aurora hands him his shirt. 

“So did I,” she says softly, not making eye contact. As she grabs the vest from the hanger she can see out of the corner of her eye that he’s not actually putting the shirt on. “Ya know, you gotta actually put your arms through the sleeves to get the shirt on, yeah?” she jokes though her voice is a bit shaky. Still not looking at him because she’s nervous and second guessing everything, like always

“Hey,” his voice is soft too now. She can tell he’s picked up on her nerves. “Everything alright, Ror?” She stays silent, not really knowing how to describe how she’s feeling right in that moment. She nods with a hum. Harry accepts her answer, for now and finally puts on his shirt. “Tie this for me?” He asks holding the long fabric ties out towards Aurora. 

“Course,” she says smiling to herself, predicting that this will be a common occurrence throughout the tour. He’s totally capable to tie it himself, but Aurora won’t argue with an excuse for the two of them to be just a few inches closer. “Harry,” he hums in response still looking intently at her while she keeps her focus on the fabric looping through her hands and fingers. “Uhm, you, uh, I’m just curious, but you’ve been calling me Ror, a lot,” she pauses, still pulling on the fabric around the collar, “instead of Aurora.” 

“I’m sorry, I won’t do it anymore if you don’t want me to.” She can feel the heat from his neck as her fingertips brush against his throat every now and then. 

“No, I don’t mind actually. Just curious where you got it, I guess.” Once the bow is tied to her liking she grabs the cropped vest again. 

“Oh,” Harry chuckles lightly, almost like a nervous habit, “haven’t really given it much thought. Just kinda came to me as I got comfortable with ya.” Harry turns away from her and she holds up the vest. He slides his arms through and pulls on the front of the vest just as he has done with each suit jacket the previous nights. Aurora speaks up while she’s getting the shoulder seams of the vest to sit just right on Harry’s broad shoulders. 

“My mom has always called me that,” she shoots him a small smile in the mirror, “Ror or Rory.” He smiles back at her. “Really, not a lot of people call me by a nickname.” Harry turns back around to face Aurora, a hand going to her waist as a voice announces 15 minutes till curtain. “It’s nice to hear it when I’m so far from home.”

“Well, Rory,” he winks at her. “I’ve got a show to put on. Thanks for making me look the best.” 

“Harry, you’re forgetting your shoes…” she giggles at him. He places a kiss on the top of her cheek, something she doesn’t think she could ever get tired of. 

“What would I do without you?” He slides a fresh pair of socks on and then his boots, then another kiss to her cheek before he’s running out the door to perform on stage for an insane amount of people. 

Aurora watches most of the show from the audience. Half of her time is spent watching Harry on stage and the other is tagging along with Helene and watching in awe of her getting the best shots. Aurora is thrilled with how the flares look when he’s dancing around and takes a video to send to her family’s group chat and Lambert. Harry has just draped one of the many pride flags he’s acquired on stage over his mic stand just as the updated, rocky version of ‘What Makes You Beautiful’ starts. He’s not even finished with the 1st verse and the bow that she tied loose around his neck has come undone. As he launches into the next verse he makes direct eye contact with Aurora. She can feel her cheeks heat up as he grabs for the loose pieces of fabric and re ties them into a bow without breaking eye contact. The second the bow is tied he takes his mic from the stand and walks over to the side of the stage, passing Aurora. He walks back towards his mic stand while belting out the lyrics, a smile starting to sneak up on him. Harry doesn’t make it to the mic stand before he pivots back towards Aurora’s direction. He directs the mic towards the audience signally them to sing louder. Simultaneously, he looks down at Aurora who is standing next to Helene in front of the barrier, who is crouching down to get a good angle of the stage. The smile that was sneaking up on him makes a full appearance as a lopsided smirk directed at her. The only thing besides Harry’s smile that she is aware of in the arena of thousands and thousands of people is the click of Helene’s camera. 

“Gotta figure out something with those dang bows,” was the first thing Aurora said to Harry when he arrived back in his dressing room after the show. 

“Maybe I’ve gotta tone down my dancing?”

“Hmm probably a good idea to do that anyways,” she spits back at him as she takes the vest off his shoulders, “bow or no bow.” His eyes turn to slits as he grimaces at her joke. 

“Ha ha. You’re so funny, Rory,” he deadpans. 

“Come on,” she says through a yawn, “start handing me your clothes so I can get them packed up.” There’s a hint of sleepiness in her voice and she isn’t even trying to cover it up. 

Harry starts to peel one piece of clothing off after the next and handing them to her. A barely clothed Harry stands in front of her, a situation she has started to kind of - key words, kind of - get used to. She’s hanging everything up, the start of her new nightly routine. In her head she knows she’s just getting closer and closer to getting the chance to fall asleep in a huge bed that awaits her back at the hotel. 

“Ror, would you wanna come out with me tonight?” She hums and yawns again, giving him a questioning look. “A few of us are going out to get food and drink, wanna come with?” Suddenly Aurora is aware of what he’s asking. 

“Oh, Harry, I don’t know,” nerves tickle through her fingertips as she hangs up the flared trousers Harry had on, not moments ago. Go out with Harry? And his friends? Today had already been a lot for her. Aurora is overwhelmed at the thought and thankful that she has clearly shown signs of her exhaustion already. An easy excuse. “I’m really tired. Not really used to the traveling and jet lag is still kicking my ass.” 

Harry is silent before he speaks up, “Okay,” he says solemnly, “maybe next time then?” She nods at him in agreement knowing full well that she’ll make an excuse next time. She doesn’t know why, but something just doesn’t feel right with taking whatever her and Harry have outside the bubble that each arena has created. 

“Great show tonight, Harry!  I’ll see you in Antwerp.”

Hope you enjoyed !! feedback & comments always appreciated !!! 

[solasan]

otp tag.

tagged by @masonsfreckles​​ and @impossible-rat-babies​​ and like definitely also someone else but my activity is super clogged up so i cant find who I’m Sorry 🥺 but thank u remus and owen mwah tagging: @denerims​​ @arlathen​​ @lvllns​​ @trvelyans​​ @lavellane​​ @chuckhansen​​ @rosebarsoap​​​ @cheydinhaal​​ @darksprawn​​ @deepspeech​​ @yennefre​​ and anyone else who wants to do it tbh

DISAGREEMENTS.

who is more likely to raise their voice?

i mean both, probably? they’re both very passionate people

who threatens to leave but never actually does?

i’ll hesitantly say june but i dont think they’d reach that point

who actually keeps their word and leaves?

neither lmao

who trashes the house?

in day-to-day life, june; she’s very messy. in fights? neither bcos that’s messed up. the Most that’ll happen is adam cracking a piece of furniture in his fist by accident

do either of them get physical?

uhhh they’ll spar from time to time, but outside of that, never

how often do they argue/disagree?

in the beginning?? all the fucking time. every day. they butt heads like they were made to do it. further in, they argue much less, especially once june’s proved adam’s whole “humans are weak!!!” thing wrong

who is the first to apologize?

adam gets bullied into it by nate sometimes. june won’t apologise unless she’s absolutely certain she’s in the wrong, but it does happen. so i guess it depends on the argument

SEX.

who is on top? who is on bottom?

i hate applying the top/bottom thing to m/f ships but adam’s A Top i guess. june is 100% a bottom. but when it comes to actual positioning they’ll change; adam likes missionary a lot, but june likes sitting in his lap and riding him, so

any kinks?

adam is lowkey lowkey very lowkey into orgasm control/denial im calling it. he just likes taking control, but not in an explicit bdsm sense??? june’s into dirty talk and does have a praise kink. she has to coax adam into talking in the beginning but when he gets into the swing of things he loves it

june used to be into getting tied up, but the whole murphy situation kinda fucked that for her

who has the strangest desires?

june probably wins this just purely based on the fact that she wants adam to bite her lmao. he would find that strange. but he would also be into it so

who’s dominant in bed?

adam !!! again not in the traditional like bdsm dominant sense but he takes charge of things

is head ever in the equation?

uhhh, yeah ??? all the time

if so, who is better at performing it?

look. june is very good. she is. but adam has 900 years on her and also more enthusiasm / touch starvation / desperation. adam is a pussy eating KING

ever had sex in public?

the most public they’ve gotten is fucking in the tech lab at the warehouse, that’s it

who moans the most?

both moan, but june’s louder. she’s freer ??? with it ??? but adam grunts and gasps and pants a lot, and when he’s abt to come he’ll groan out her name or a french curse so

who leaves the most marks?

june’s the one that goes out of her way to make marks, just bcos shes a lil sad they fade so quickly. adam leaves the most just bcos june doesn’t heal in the same way

who is the more experienced of the two?

adam might be 900 years old but we all know he’s not had many relationships. june’s more experienced bcos she has one-night stands in college before her and bobby got together

do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’?

im so sorry but if u look at adam du mortain and think that he doesn’t make love 99% of the time, ur wrong. but sometimes they do get super passionate / desperate for each other, and then they’ll fuck

how long do they usually last?

in the beginning adam lasts like 2 seconds, no joke. that man sees even a hint of june’s coochie and he busts a nut. but further in he can last longer. unless june is being a shit and deliberately trying to get him to come, which she does do

rough or soft?

soft for the most part. if it ever is rough it’s like..... more bcos it’s intense, passionate, less bcos either of them is trying to make it rough. june has some sexual trauma too so really rough sex, like w choking for example, is out of the question (not that i think adam is into choking anyway)

is protection used?

it should be, and when they remember to they do use it. but also they forget a lot shdkshdkd does june look like the type of person to get pregnant on purpose??

does it ever get boring?

nah they keep it fresh. plus they love each other so much it’s just always so good to have each other ???? like after So Long Pining it’s just good idk bro shdjsjdk

where is the strangest place they’d have sex?

idk probably the tech lab like i said above ??? i dont think they fuck in many weird places — not bcos i dont think june would be into it, but more bcos i figure if they ever start getting freaky adam gets them into a bed / somewhere private STAT

FAMILY.

do they plan on having children / do they have children?

yeah they vaguely want them in the future i guess. adam thinks abt june having his baby and has to lie down he 🥺 so hard

if so, how many children do they want/have?

their first kid — emma — is an accident born like a year after they get married, and then oliver comes along a year after that because june always said she didn’t want only one kid. she remembered how lonely she was as a kid :(((

AFFECTION.

who likes to cuddle?

both of them !!! adam is touch-starved and june is starved for affection !!! they cuddle all the time

who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places?

june 100% no question. WHORE. adam is so done with her but he does always drag her off somewhere to Ravish her so rly who’s winning here

who struggles to keep their hands to themself?

shdkshdkskd both of them. june slightly more so tho

how long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?

uhhh i dont think it’s rly a matter of one getting uncomfortable, bcos they do love it. probably it’s just as long as they can hold out before 1) june has to pee, or 2) adam resolves to be productive

what is their favourite non-sexual activity?

adam would never admit it but he loves watching movies with june purely bcos she gets so cuddly and ALSO she gets so into them. she’s the type of person to yell at the screen and ask questions all the time. sometimes they’ll compete to see who can work out the plot / twist / mystery of a film first 

where is their favourite place to cuddle?

in bed !!!!! adam loves having her whole body pressed up against him, all small and soft and smelling like june, and june loves how he tucks her into his chest and makes her feel so safe and warm

SLEEPING.

who snores?

ahskhkdja june !!!

if both do, who snores the loudest?

adam doesn’t snore so june. but she doesn’t do it that loudly

do they share a bed or sleep separately?

they share a bed !!!! it’s adam’s way of making sure june does actually go to bed, for one, but also he doesn’t like to sleep without her

if they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart?

cozy up together !!!!! adam’ll kiss her hair and tuck her head under his chin, and june’ll wrap her arms around his torso and kiss the hollow of his throat

what do they wear to bed?

june wears raggedy old band tees or oversized hoodies, boxer shorts, lots of comfy clothes. flannel pyjama trousers. sometimes she’ll sleep in adam’s shirts bcos they smell like him and she likes that, but when she does sleep in adam’s shirts they uhhh haha dont sleep for a while ;)))

are either of them insomniacs?

june is !!! i think around book 4, maybe 5, someone’s gonna talk her into seeing someone abt it — because she really doesn’t sleep a healthy amount, i’m talking 5-8 hours a week — and she’ll start taking sleeping pills, but for now she just drinks a fuckload of coffee and keeps herself busy.

adam’s not rly an insomniac per se, but he doesn’t sleep as much as humans do, obviously

can sleeping pills be found by the bedside?

later in the series, yeah. i could see her being put on quetiapine bcos that’s what im on and that shit works

do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side?

wrap their limbs around each other !!!! june’s like a cuddly octopus shdksjdl but adam loves it, honestly. he’ll often wrap his arms around her and put on of his hands up her shirt, over her spine, so he can have some nice skin-on-skin contact. yknow....... as a treat

who wakes up with bed hair?

both !!!! june’s is probably a bit worse bcos it’s longer ????

who wakes up first?

eh, depends. i’d say adam, bcos he’s More Responsible, but june really doesn’t sleep much, so it could go either way

who prepares breakfast in bed for the other?

neither ??? june doesn’t cook and adam’s not a good cook

what is their favourite sleeping position?

either adam on his back with june tucked into his chest, his arms around her, or both of them on their sides and adam spooning june. they love em !!!!

do they set an alarm each night?

they do. june has broken multiple alarm clocks, tho, so make of that what u will

who has nightmares?

both :((( june’s are more frequent, i think

can a television be found in their bedroom?

nah. adam wouldn’t want one, and june watches everything on her laptop

who has ridiculous dreams?

probably june. she’ll sleepily recount them to adam the next morning in bed and he’ll either hm? into her neck to show he’s listening or huff a laugh against her skin

who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed?

june. adam has learned to accept this fact about her. usually he’ll just position her so that they’re both comfier when she does it, but he has been woken by her elbowing his side before

who makes the bed?

adam. june cba with that shit. she’s just gonna get back in it anyways !!!!

what time is bed time?

adam pushes june to go to bed by 11. sorry u gotta take care of ur stupid energiser bunny girlfriend, buddy

any routines/rituals before bed?

eh nothing in particular i dont think ??? nothing out of the standard brush teeth / clean face / get into pjs thing anyway

who’s the grumpiest when they wake up?

june is the GRUMPIEST. she’s not a morning person in the slightest

WORK.

who is the busiest?

hmmmmm. they’re both probably equally busy ??? i mean adam’s the head of the unit so he probs has work he has to do, but then june’s basically the head of the department bcos the captain’s never around, so she has a lot of work. and she has to balance that work with the agency. maybe june’s slightly busier ???

who rakes in the highest income?

eh they’re probs around the same ???

are any of them unemployed?

nope

who takes the most sick days?

june bcos adam doesn’t get sick. also sometimes she just wants A Personal Day and / or is hungover

what are their jobs?

he’s a commanding agent, she’s a liaison and also police detective

who sucks up to their boss?

haha adam’s technically june’s boss and she loves to suck badum tss

who is more likely to turn up late to work?

june shdjshdk girl is Bad at time management. sometimes tho they’ll both be late bcos a morning fuck went on too long. june is very smug on these days

who stresses the most?

uhhh both stress a lot ?? june has anxiety. but adam also is constantly on edge so ????

do they enjoy or despise their careers/occupations?

yeah they enjoy them i guess. adam definitely enjoys his. june is..... complicated. she doesn’t trust the agency and she doesn’t rly wanna be a cop, but she doesn’t know what else she could do so ???

are they financially stable?

yeah for the most part. the agency has good salaries

HOME.

who does the washing?

i think maybe june does it more often just bcos as a human she....... probably ???? goes through more clothes ??? that makes sense to me ??? idk hsdk

who takes out the trash?

adam, usually. especially if it’s dark; june ain’t going nowhere at night

who does the ironing?

again, adam. just bcos he’s more likely to have clothes that need ironing. june has never touched an iron in her life

who does the cooking?

i mean june is notorious for not cooking but rather ordering takeout, so...... i mean i dont think adam is a bad cook but he can rly only cook rly bland, simple meals, and he obviously doesnt need to eat so. i guess if it’s one of them it’s june

who is more likely to burn the house down just trying?

yeah june sdhskdhksdk she just has a very short attention span bro idk what to tell u

who is messier?

yep june no question. adam’s a lil bit of a neat freak im calling it

who leaves the toilet roll empty?

neither

who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor?

yeah june. sometimes adam if he’s had a long day tho. or like if theyre getting Freaky and leaving clothes everywhere. but in general, june’s more likely

who forgets to flush the toilet?

ew gross people do that ?? neither

who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere?

june shdjjsjdk

who answers the telephone?

uhh both ig ?? but they don’t have like a landline or anything they only have their cells

who mows the lawn?

adam, but only once they’ve moved out of june’s apartment after having the kids. june’s got a black thumb bro she’s not allowed near the garden on nate’s orders

who does the vacuuming?

both !!! they take turns

who does the groceries?

june 100% and she always ends up getting shit that wasn’t on the list shdjskdk. sometimes they’ll do it together tho

who takes the longest to shower?

uhhhh i mean. i think they shower together quite a lot so ???? both ???

who spends the most time in the bathroom?

like getting ready ???? uhh depends. if june’s doing makeup, her, but she doesn’t do it often

MISCELLANEOUS.

is money a problem?

nahhh the agency pays them well

how many cars do they own?

originally only june’s shitty little hatchback, but when the kids are born they get a second one. probably it is very pretty and fancy and expensive, because adam

what’s their song?

either dermot kennedy’s power over me, or fortress by bear’s den. like, seriously, look up the lyrics; they’re the ULTIMATE adamjune songs

do they live in the city or in the country?

does wayhaven count as a city, even if it’s like... a small town ??? idk

do they own their home or do they rent?

june’s renting her apartment currently, but when ollie and emma are born, they buy a place at the edge of town

do they enjoy their surroundings?

eh. neither of them are especially fond of wayhaven, but i think maybe it grows on them over time ??? june definitely in her current point in canon is only there bcos she doesn’t know where else to go

what do they do when they’re away from each other?

Yearn like fools. they miss each other shdjshdk they’ll call each other if adam is ever sent out on an assignment away from town or june has to take some kinda business trip. theyre always super happy to be reunited

where did they first meet?

at an abandoned warehouse in book 1. june shot him. it was great

who spends the most money when out shopping?

uhhhhhh bro i genuinely don’t know ??? adam and june both have terrible taste in clothes; he walks around in cargo pants half the time and she’s never not in something oversized and baggy and possibly falling apart ???

ig june spends a lot on technology ??? and on food ????

who’s more likely to flash their assets?

ok i mean adam has already in canon gotten shirtless and flashed his assets at june while convinced he feels nothing for her so. him. he’s a show-off we all know this

any mental issues?

yeah lmao. june already had ptsd before canon from being assaulted in college, and now it’s just worse bcos of everything with murphy and shit. she also has depression, because obviously, and anxiety. also adhd if that counts ??? it probably counts

i think adam’s got some ptsd too from that Terrible Fiery Scene Of Death we saw in the mirror from his past, and probably that’s compounded by experiences since he became a vampire too ??? possibly some depression as well just bcos i’m now considering his whole ‘numb for years’ thing and how that overlaps with depression ?? :/// idk

who finds it amusing when the other trips over?

adam doesn’t trip often but when he does june howls with laughter. usually if he’s tripping it’s bcos she’s done something Very Distracting. one time she took her shirt off in their living room when he wasnt expecting it and he walked into a wall

when june trips (which she often does) adam will sorta snort very quietly or his lips will twitch but he’ll always stabilise her quickly

who’s terrified of bugs?

yep june 100%

who kills the spiders around the house?

shsjdhskdjk ADAM. “june, it’s just an insect.” “um, untrue, it’s an arachnid, those are different fucking things—” “it’s miniscule. even more so than you are.” “okay, ha, ha, very funny, please kill it, adam i’m serious, kill it, it has eight legs, it’s waiting to murder me, fucking kill it!” “i’m killing it, calm down.”

do they have any fears for their future?

yeah. june’s worried she’s gonna get totally murdered lmao bcos odds are someone’s gonna try again. adam is also terrified abt this distinct possibility. he’s also scared that, like... she’ll live ??? as in ??? she won’t ever turn, she’ll stay mortal her whole life, and after waiting 900 years for her, he’ll only get a few decades with her before she dies.

that’s like not gonna happen she absolutely becomes a vampire after emma and ollie are born but still. he’s dramatic

their favourite place?

the warehouse, probably ??? it’s safe and secure and it’s comfortable ??? or else june’s apartment. i think june prefers her apartment just slightly

who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner?

adam ??? but it’s more likely that they’d go out to a fancy dinner, rather than him cook one

who pays the bills?

they split them

who’s the tallest?

sndjhskdjkd adam. june hates and loves this fact in equal measure. adam is very smug abt how teeny tiny his girlfriend is shdkshdk he finds it very funny. also very sweet he loves it

who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?

both, honestly. theyre bad at keeping their hands off each other once they’re together. maybe june is ever so slightly more likely ?? idk

who wanders around in their underwear?

both. adam likes to distract june w his abs bro what can i say. june just is most comfortable walking around in a sports bra and briefs

who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio?

june !!! and she’ll lean into his face and sing right at him with this big dumb grin too. adam will refuse to make eye contact but he’ll have this tiny lil smile on his face

what do they tease each other about?

everything. june roasts adam on the daily. adam will very dryly retort back every time. they were made for each other im telling u. 

june will sometimes bring up his whole humans are weak thing at the most ridiculous times. like, adam tries to get her to get out of bed in the morning and she’ll groan and start lamenting how weak and fragile she is, she couldn’t possibly get out of bed in this state, adam, i have glass bones and paper skin, don’t u love me ????

adam’s teasing is just dryly taking the piss out of dumb shit she says. she’ll talk abt a fight she had with someone and say she went “wa-pow!” when she hit them and he’ll just deadpan repeat, “wa-pow.” his face totally straight. i wuv themm

who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times?

i mean neither they both have bad fashion taste. but also june hates the fucking cargo pants bruh

who crushed first?

adam did shdkshdk even if he didn’t realise. june didn’t figure out she liked him until the time between book 1 and book 2, because she missed him and she couldn’t figure out why

any alcohol or substance related problems?

uhhh no not rly. june has a history of using recreational drugs but that was in college and she doesn’t touch most of that shit these days

who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am?

june probably shdjshdk she’ll have a girl’s night with farah, morgan, and tina, and just come home absolutely fucking twatted. adam always tucks her in

who swears the most?

yeah june. she swears in every other word. the first time she made adam curse is burned into her brain seriously she takes such pride in it

[frustratedpoetwrites]

Dancing in the dark

A/N Hello everyone, writing can have a life of its own and this story has grown to be a bit bigger than I originally thought it would be. so you have two more chapters after this to look forward to.

Big thank you to @the-castle-crew for being betas and friends and giving me some great ideas when I was stuck. Also on AO3 

CHAPTER FOUR

She turned away, pulling out her headphones and not wanting him to see her tear-streaked face.

“I’ve had dreams about girls falling into my arms,” he quipped. Then, more seriously, he said, “I’ve never seen you dance before. You are amazing.”

“I’m hardly that,” she replied, wiping at her face with a sleeve. “The younger girls are better.”

James turned her shoulders so he could look at her face, but she refused to look up at him. “You were - are amazing, alright?” She nodded but didn’t feel it. She kept her head looking down at his feet when he asked, “Hey, you okay?”

She bit back the sharp reply she wanted to say. “I’m fine,” she spoke through gritted teeth. She felt his hand on her chin sliding her face up so that he could look her in the eye.

“We have slept together now. You need to give me more than that. We both know you are not fine.”

“Don’t be cute. It doesn’t suit you,” she replied sharply, pushing his hand away. “I’m scared, okay? I don’t know what this...” she gestured between them, “is. I saw you with someone else, so what did you think would happen when you came over last night?”

He sighed deeply, sliding his hands into his pockets. “You saw me with my publisher. Her name is Toni. I have known her for the past four years, although that was the first time I’ve met her in person. She is married, has a teenage son, and is more like an older sister than a publisher sometimes,” he explained. “Do you need more evidence? Do you want me to call her so you can confirm?”

Lily shook her head, embarrassed.

“Lily, if I am being completely honest with myself, the last thing I should be doing right now is starting a new relationship. You’ve had me tied up in knots since the first time I met you. I thought that I could ignore this too, but I can’t. I don’t want to deny that I have feelings for you, but I can’t go down another rabbit hole without knowing you feel the same way. I know my heart, and it wants to be with you, but not as some midnight hookup guy. That’s the reason why I said no before.” Cautiously, he reached out to her and placed a hand on her hip as if to steady her. “I came over last night because I didn’t want you to spend another night alone and sad. I can’t bear to see or hear you being so down.” His other hand stroked her cheek, and she leaned into it without thinking.

“Why are you so nice to me?” she asked. “How can you be so confident what we could be like something out of your romance novels?”

“You’ve read my books?” He sounded genuinely pleased. She shrugged.

“I may have read a few from Remus’ collection while on tour. I didn’t know any of them were yours at the time. I saw the notebook you left on the table too.” She let herself look at him. “What you wrote was beautiful.”

His hair was even more mussed up than normal, and his eyes were puffy from lack of sleep. He looked absolutely perfect. She reached up and brushed a stray lock from his eye, her fingers lingered across his temple. “All the things you write about - romance, courtship, friends to lovers... I’ve never done any of that, not really. I gave up on relationships when I was still in college. They’ve never worked because I am a fucking disaster.”

He took the hand that was close to his face and clasped it firmly in his own. “I refuse to believe that any part of what happened before was your fault.” He looked down at her fingers, rubbing a thumb across her knuckles. “Lily, we are all fucking disasters. The truth is, I’m probably just as scared as you are. I just know I want to be around you and get to know you. You fascinate me.” He took a deep breath obviously trying to settle his thoughts before speaking more. “I thought I could deny this and work through my own mess of a life, but I can’t stop thinking about you.” He ruffled his hair and looked out over the tops of the buildings around them, letting her hand fall.

“What if all the crap we’ve been through and all the failed relationships were preparing us for this? What if we have always been travelling towards this moment - standing here, together? Because no matter what anyone else says or thinks, I want to take this chance. What happens if we don't try?” He put his hands back on her shoulders. She looked back up at him, saying nothing, not quite sure exactly what he wanted to hear from her. “I want to take a chance on us because you are fucking amazing, Lily Evans, and all I want is to tell you that every single day. I should be the cautious one. I’ve been burnt by what I thought was love before. Perhaps together, we can build each other up?”

Lily stared into the eyes of this beautiful man and wondered what she had to lose.

“I like you too. I really do, but I think we need to take it slow,” she started cautiously. “You’re just out of something serious, and I don’t really know how to be a girlfriend. Perhaps we should do the date thing?”

“The date thing?” He raised an amused eyebrow.

“Sure. What would you do on a first date?”

“Erm, I haven’t dated anyone since college,” he said hesitantly.

She tried to help out. “The actual date is not so important, but would you expect a kiss? Something more?”

He smiled and pulled her in close to him. She allowed him to wrap her in his arms but only because she was cold.

When he spoke he sounded nostalgic. “College me would try for a kiss and hope for more. I think we know each other a little better than a first date normally would.” His eyes were looking down at her, staring with such intensity. She couldn’t stop herself when she reached up to cradle the back of his neck, sliding her fingers up into his hair. He looked a lot more likely to accept a kiss now. His eyes were dark and intense as he looked at her like she was an all you can eat buffet.

“What would you say would be an acceptable number of dates before home run?” She hoped he would understand her point and would only say one or two. After being this close to him and a night of sleeping with her body pressed against his, she was just about ready to jump him right there. But she did want them to be more than just a fling. She wanted the romance, and James Potter didn't jump into anything anymore, although perhaps his eyes were telling her a different story.

“Five,” he stated simply.

“Five?” she repeated.

He nodded slowly. His hands were on the waistband at the back of her trousers, but they slipped down and cupped the checks of her bottom and gave it a cheeky squeeze. His smile was mischievous, as if he thought there was no way she could wait out five dates before locking him in her bedroom for a considerable amount of time.

“Okay then, Potter. Five dates it is.” She removed his hands from her body and walked back to the fire escape.

“Doesn’t this count as a date?” he asked after her.

She paused with her foot on the ladder. “What? You turning up at my door in the middle of the night, then falling asleep on the couch? Oh no, that’s not a good enough first date. That was more of an instigator, I suppose.” She started her descent, still speaking to him from his position at the edge of the roof. “If you want to do this properly, then let's do this properly. You said five dates, so five it is. I’m all for starting right now.”

“Lily, it’s Tuesday morning.”

“It's also New York. Either go home and get yourself dressed up, or you can borrow some of Sirius’s clothes.”

James moved slowly over to the fire escape, his feet staying away from the edge. “Eh, if it's all the same to you, I’ll just take the stairs and go home to change. I’ll text you what to dress for.”

She was now standing on the metal platform outside her window. She put her hands on her hips as she looked up at him, looking anxiously down at her. “Who says you get to pick what we do for the first date? I’ll text you the address, so you can meet me there.”

He looked unconvinced, but Lily wasn’t sure if that was just his fear of the fire escape.

Eventually, he nodded. “Okay, you get first pick, but I get to chose the two after that.”

“James, you can pick every date after that. Just let me get inside and get ready.”

��

Date One:

She couldn’t really contain her excitement as she led James by the hand. He was keeping his eyes closed like he had promised, which was an exercise in trust that impressed her. Keeping the final destination a surprise when she had sent him a Broadway address was probably a little too much to hope for, but he had played along well enough. His hand was so much bigger than hers. She tried to ignore the memory of how they had felt when they held her, and thoughts of how they would feel against bare skin.

Five dates before that could happen. She was determined to see that through. How quickly could they get through five dates?

He was wearing a suit but in a very casual way. The white shirt had no tie and the top two buttons were undone. He looked like he’d just come from a premiere or some high society party. He looked hot as hell.

“Wait here,” she instructed before taking a few steps from him, since she wanted to see his reaction. “Open your eyes,” she instructed, bouncing on her toes. She knew his enthusiasm probably wouldn’t match her own, but she was delighted to see the smile and look of awe on his face as he took in their surroundings.

“Of course, you brought me to a stage,” he said wryly, turning on the spot. The ambient lights were on, making it easy to see the ornate work of the boxes, the red curtains, and carpets. She breathed in the particular, indescribable smell and feel of being on a stage. She loved it here and wanted to share that with him. The stage itself was empty of any scenery, as the theatre was just about to start work on a new production.

“Not just any stage,” she began, taking his hands and beaming up at him, unable to contain her excitement. “My stage, my theatre.”

He looked at her confused, unable to comprehend.

“I got an email this morning. They want me to start next week. I’m a choreographer. People will dance what I want them to, right here!” She bounced on her toes.

“Lily, that’s awesome!” James caught her enthusiasm and gave her a hug of congratulations, spinning her around. They were both laughing and smiling. Lily automatically put her hand on his face as he spun her, looking him in the eyes. They stopped spinning as they continued to stare into each other’s eyes, her feet off the ground and eyes level with his. She was feeling a little dizzy from the spin, but she didn’t care.

It didn’t take much to just lean forward and press her lips to his. Her body was tight to his, held firmly by his arms. His lips parted easily for her wandering tongue as she explored his mouth, his hot breath mingling with hers, as he returned her kisses with as much passion as her. He relaxed his grip, letting her body slide slowly down until her feet touched the floor. She was in a summer dress, so she could feel the heat radiating off him through the thin fabric. She wanted to explore him more, but was also aware of their little agreement, so she pulled away from his mouth. He moved his attention to her neck, and she moaned softly, hands sliding up into his hair.

Reluctantly, she stepped away further.

“Not a bad first kiss,” she told him with a smirk as she took in the state of him. His eyes were devouring her again, all dark and demanding. His swollen lips looked so inviting. His hair was a disheveled masterpiece. But, she refused to give in, even if on a theatre stage was on her list of places. She was enjoying this slow torture far more than she thought she would. “Come on. I'll show you the rest of this place. There are workshop rooms right here, and offices and costume rooms.” She was getting carried away with the place again. She looked back at him, still standing in the same spot with his hands in his pockets.

“You look so comfortable here. You are meant to be on stage, Miss Evans,” he told her, but she shook her head.

“Not anymore. I am meant to put other, better dancers on stage and tell them what to do.”

“I have a feeling you are going to be great at that.” He sounded so genuine she had to beam back at him. He had such faith in her already.

They did not spend much more time exploring the theatre. It had been a favour to be allowed in anyway, and she didn’t want to push her luck until she was allowed proper access once she started her job. James was as curious to see the place as she was to show it and asked her questions as they moved their way back through. They exited the stage door, and she made sure it closed firmly behind them once more.

“So how was that, Mr. Potter, as first dates go?”

“It was pretty great, but also pretty quick, if you're sure it’s over.”

“I had no real plans beyond showing you this place. Where are we going on our second?”

“You want to go on the next one, right now?” he asked, walking in the direction of the road.

“I don’t know about you, but I’d quite like to get to our fifth date, sooner than later.”

“Okay then. Let’s go.”

Date two:

She looked at him skeptically as he hailed a cab straight outside the theatre.

“You know where we are going already?”  

“I have a few ideas up my sleeve,” he replied with a wink. “You’ve shared a special place for you. I want to do the same.” He leaned in and told the driver where to go before opening the door to her. “After you, my lady.” He gestured grandly.

She slid herself along the pleather seat and wondered where they were going. James took her hand and kissed it softly the moment they were settled together, and the taxi started its journey.

Lily was happy to lean against James and look out the window, not feeling the need to talk right now. His arm was around her waist, while the other hand was scrolling through his phone. She was beginning to wonder what he was doing when her own phone started to ring from the depths of her handbag. When she saw who was trying to Facetime, she smiled.

“Sirius, I’ve missed you!” she yelled at her friend as his face appeared on the screen. James pressed his cheek to hers so they could both be seen.

“Sirius, long time. Is Remus with you?” James added. Lily watched her best friend’s face break out into a slow smile.

“He’s here too. Remus, come see these two. It’s enough to make you sick,” he called. She could just about hear Remus yelling in the background. “You two have been having fun without us, I see,” he started. Lily went to shake her head, but it would have meant bashing James’ nose.

“We’re just going on a date,” she answered, waiting to see Sirius’ response. Before he could say anything, Remus was sliding into the shot with him, his hair damp and with a towel around his shoulders.

“That’s fantastic!” Remus cheered. “See? I told you they could get along,” he added with a dig in the ribs to Sirius. “So when did this happen?”

Sirius rolled his eyes at his boyfriend but when he turned his face back to them, he was still smiling. It was not a full blown happy smile but a thoughtful one, as if he was surprised by how pleased he was. Lily really wanted him to be okay. His friendship meant the world to her. He was her constant, her north star. When she looked at him, she thought he was looking right back at her. He dipped his head a tiny fraction of a nod and winked. She beamed back at him.

“It hasn’t. Not properly, anyway. We’re going on a few dates first,” James was saying to Remus before he planted a kiss on her cheek.

“It’s going pretty well so far,” she added with a blush, shoving James’ face away. He turned his face to look at the phone. She spotted the wink he gave his friends in the preview window. “I’ve so much to tell you. I’ve missed our chats.”

“Tell us everything. I’m dying to hear your news,” Sirius responded happily. “It’s been hell on Earth here without being able to talk with you.” Remus huffed slightly at that. “Not you, darling, you know that,” Sirius added with a kiss to apologise. “How did your gig go? How’s the book going? How’s the big city coping without me?”

She told them about her audition and about the job offer. Sirius almost dropped the phone when he got so excited. James had news too and told them about his new book deal. Lily sat stunned as she listened to him. Sirius and Remus looked happily back at them and told them they would be starting the tour proper next week but hopefully would get a few days home first.

The whole time, they chatted on the phone with hips pressed together. James’ hand rested lightly on her thigh with his other wrapped around her waist, as if they did this all the time. She never felt uncomfortable in his closeness. As soon as they said their goodbyes to their friends, Lily turned to him again, lips pressing a soft kiss to his. It might have gone further, but they had arrived at the New York Public Library.

“Of course, this is your place,” she said once he had paid the cab fare and stood beside her. She tried to look as enthused as he so obviously was, as enthusiastic as he had been for her theatre.

“Have you ever been inside?” he asked as he offered his hand to lead her up the stairs.

“On a school trip, once or twice, but I’m sure you know the best places. We can get lost in for a while.”

To be honest, once inside they didn’t do too much exploring or reading. They were never going to read. Any time they found a quiet corner or a convenient, dimly lit alcove, they would linger, hands roving freely over clothes, lips exploring cheeks, chins, necks, and mouths. The pressure to be quiet added another level of excitement for her. Her giggles were loud in the echoing rooms.

“Oh, when I finally get you in my bed,” she murmured, nibbling on his ear.

“When I finally get in your bed, I’m going to find out just how flexible you are,” he added. “If I survive that long, ‘cause you’re killing me, Evans.”

They left the library, a little hotter and more flushed than they had been on arrival, but grinning like lunatics whenever they looked at each other.

“I’m hungry.”

“Will dinner count as a third date?” he asked her with a cheeky smile.

“It would depend on the food, I suppose. Until then, we’re still on our second date. Besides, I don’t want a fancy dinner. I just want hot dogs.”

“You’re not serious, are you? Those things have got little to no nutritional value, and you will be hungry again in half an hour.”

“Okay then, Dad. What do you suggest?”

“Let me cook for you? We can grab a few groceries and just hang out.”

“That does sound like an excellent third date.” She slid her hands under his suit jacket. “But don’t think just because your going to cook for me that I’m going to stay over.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll kick you out before midnight, I promise,” he joked, stepping to the road to hail a cab.

“Subway’s right there, James.” She pointed. “You don’t have to take expensive cab rides everywhere.”

“But, in a cab, I get you all to myself,” he explained, sliding his hands around her waist and nuzzling into her neck. She sighed and tried not to smile at his cuteness.

Before, when any man had been so openly affectionate with her in public, it set off alarm bells. However, this was not true for James, it seemed. In fact, she quite liked the way his head felt tucked up close to her neck.

“Well, I’m a city girl, and it’s way too extravagant for me to have more than one cab ride in a day. We can cuddle up on the train just as easily.” She skipped a few quick steps away from him towards the subway stairs and spun to see if he was following, making her dress and hair flare out.

He had not moved from the spot. James just stood there with a goofy half grin.

“What?” she asked, self consciously tucking a strand of her hair behind an ear.

“Nothing,” he replied. “Just wanting to remember this moment, this day.” She rolled her eyes at him but, inwardly, she was feeling the same way. She offered her hand to him and they went to board the train together.

Date three:

“So what am I supposed to do with it?” she asked in confusion, huffing slightly as he laughed at her.

“You’re telling me you’ve never done this before?”

“Well, no, actually, I haven’t,” she replied, her tone getting defensive.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry. There is a first time for everything.” His voice was gentle and patient. He came to stand behind her, placing his chin on her shoulder as he guided her hands. With a precision she would never be able to muster without his guidance, he showed her how to rock the knife to make perfect slices of the bell peppers and mushrooms. “See? It’s simple. Just go nice and easy with the knife,” he instructed before going back to the hob. She continued at a much slower pace, trying to match his perfectly sliced slithers and holding her tongue in her teeth as she concentrated. “It’s so surprising to me that you’ve never cooked,” he continued.

“I cook.”

He snorted in response to her words. “Frying meat and adding a jar of sauce is not cooking.” James countered, in a mildly irritated tone. She was realising he was a bit of a snob about food. Just as well he looked adorable in the navy blue apron, as he chopped onions with an expert hand. He had changed out of his suit as soon as they got to Remus’ apartment, and was now wearing a white tank and taupe cargo pants. It was a relaxed look and dangerously pale colours to be wearing when cooking. All Lily had done to relax her look was take off her denim jacket and boots.

He turned to take her neat-ish chopped mushrooms and peppers and added them to his pan, giving it a few deft swipes with his spatula.

“We can’t all be Gordon fucking Ramsay, you know. My way of cooking has done me alright so far,” she countered to his statement. He looked down at the pan he was still stirring, but she saw the side of his face crinkle as he frowned.

“You should look after yourself. Food is important. It’s your body’s fuel. You wouldn’t put sludge in a car, would you?”

“Well sure, if i ever feel the need to own a car, I’ll bear that in mind, okay?” She then added impatiently. “I get it. Don’t get all preachy on me. At least, you’re not vegetarian, I don’t think I could live my life without bacon.”

He chuckled at that and shrugged. “I thought about it. My personal trainer thought it would be good for me, but I like bacon too much too.” He looked around as if he was looking for something.

“What’s next, Chef?”

“I need to cook the pasta. You can cook pasta, can’t you?” He said in a rather patronising tone. Lily gave him a

“I’m not completely useless, you know.”

His smile was warm when he looked at her. “I know.”

When they finally settled at the table to eat two massive bowls of spaghetti with the most delicious sauce she had ever tasted, Lily realised how happy she felt. How easy it was to spend time with James. They fitted together like they were the missing parts to a puzzle. They had spent the entire day together and not once had she felt the need to find her own space. He made her relax. No one had ever made her feel like that, not even Sirius.

“Stay.” He spoke the single word as she put her jacket on to go.

It was getting late. They had watched trashy television and talked about nothing important. She wanted to kiss him, kiss him until there was no breath left in her lungs, kiss him until she was begging him to carry her up those stairs once more, but she hadn’t. She would go back to her own bed, imprint this day on her memory, and find release with her own fingers.

“Why won’t you stay?” he asked her when she shook her head. They had shared a bottle of wine, the majority of which he had consumed. His cheeks had a healthy looking bloom of colour.

“We haven’t had our fifth date yet. That was the deal, wasn’t it?” she replied, flicking her hair out from her coat.

He moved impossibly close to her, overwhelming her senses with all of him. She couldn’t show it, couldn’t let him know how much she wanted to wake up in that bed again, this time with him in it too. Perhaps he saw her resolve crack slightly or perhaps the alcohol had emboldened him slightly.

“Lily, please, no more games, no more deals. Just stay with me. You win. I’m at your feet.” His hands went to her hips, pushing her back against the wall as his lips dragged kisses along her neck down the open v of her dress. She couldn’t stop the hungry moan that escaped her. Her fingers tangled through his hair and, without thinking about it, she hooked a leg around his calf. All the while his head was dropping lower, ever lower.

When he kneeled at her feet and lifted her leg to hook it on his shoulder, she knew she had to stop him or she would never be able to stop herself.

“Stop. Please stop.”

He did immediately, but his gaze was a little unfocused as he looked up at her, glasses crooked, still holding her leg. His eyes were so dark, he was breathing hard, and he had her wondering why she was saying no. He kissed her thigh before placing her leg gently back down to the ground.

“We need to do this properly, I really need to do this properly. I want to have special dates with you, proper memories of romance. It’s not that I don’t want to do everything with you. Believe me, I do, but I know once you sleep with a person, it becomes all about that. I want there to be a little mystery. We are already going quite fast.”

“Lily, we can still go on the dates. We have time…”

She couldn’t look at him, she had to stay strong. “I’m not going to have the time. I have three days before I go into pre-production planning, and you are going to hardly see me after that. Two more dates, then we can spend the rest of time in bed together. Please, James, for once I’m going to do romance properly.”

“You want romance?” James asked, finally getting up and taking her hand, looking resigned. “Tomorrow, you are going to have the most romantic date ever. If this is what you need, then okay. I’m sorry for pushing you.”

She leaned into him and kissed him while pressing her hands to his cheeks. “You didn’t push me anywhere I didn’t want to go.” He lifted his head up and kissed her forehead. “I just need to do it this way. I’m so sorry. Goodnight, James.”

She slipped out the door without looking back, knowing she had left him standing in the same spot in as much need of a cold shower as she was.

[i-am-very-very-tired]

‘What makes me so sad about Lee’s killing himself is that there are so few people with that kind of talent mixed with that fury of originality. Now we have one less of the few who are amazing. Why did he have to go and do that?” wondered Sam Taylor-Wood, the British artist. She was throwing out the big question that has consumed the fashion world since the suicide of her buddy and sometime subject Alexander McQueen, the 40-year-old designer, known to his friends by his given first name, Lee. His body—a physique that he’d worried over and tried to sculpt at the gym—was found at 10:30 a.m., February 11, hanging in his wardrobe, by his housekeeper in the apartment he’d been renting in London’s Mayfair, a far cry (and six or so miles) from the working-class East End neighborhood where he’d grown up. The tragedy was compounded in that it came just a week after the death of his beloved mother, Joyce, who at 75 had succumbed to an undisclosed illness. But even though McQueen’s brutal act of self-annihilation ultimately did not surprise those who knew him best, and were aware of his dark moods and inner agonies, plenty about his death didn’t add up.

After all, he’d been busy preparing for his autumn-winter ready-to-wear show in the days just before the tragedy. He’d been tweeting and texting his nearest and dearest, and apart from his obvious sadness about his mum, there wasn’t anything particularly unusual about his actions or his messages. In retrospect, some of his pals say they see portents in how loving his greetings were, but even they caution that they may be reading too much into this. The photographer Steven Klein, who was close to the designer for years, found him to be in good shape at the lunch they had in London at Christmas. “He was very together, in great form,” says Klein. “We made plans to do several new projects together.”

McQueen had even put in a surprise appearance at a dinner for Tom Ford, given by *Vanity Fair’*s editor, Graydon Carter, at Harry’s Bar in London on February 1. McQueen, who lived nearby, popped in uninvited; he sat at the bar, had a drink, chatted with Ford, and split. Ford had initiated the purchase of a majority stake in McQueen’s label in 2000 when Ford was the guiding force at the Gucci Group, owned by the French luxury-brands company PPR, and thus was McQueen’s old boss. So there was plenty of symbolism in this encounter. But then again, symbolism is everywhere in this story, as it was in the presentations of McQueen’s collections.

At their best, these shows were feats of magic, drama, and the sheer beauty of high fashion. McQueen was a traditionalist and an avant-gardist both. He liked to provoke with his ideas and shock with his ability to create unforgettable, original, sometimes extremist, often breathtaking clothes. He designed for both sexes, and in between, but soared highest with the women. His signatures were strong shoulders, strong tailoring, and a love of the corset. His collections were so specific, so true to himself, and so visceral that they are easy to remember. It helps, too, that they earned nicknames nearly as evocative as the clothes themselves—“the Shipwreck Collection” (spring-summer 2003), “the Chess Collection” (spring-summer 2005), “the Hitchcock Collection” (autumn-winter 2005). Among the most memorable was the now iconic “Highland Rape Collection,” from autumn-winter 1995 (one of his earliest shows, when he was starting out with his then-shoestring label), which mixed flesh-baring see-through material with eruptions of tartan, the clashes and juxtapositions intended as condemnation of England’s historic bullying of Scotland. (The folklore: one model hit the catwalk with a visibly dangling tampon string. To this day McQueen’s intimates aren’t sure whether that was accidental or intentional.) The rawness may have been polished as time went on, but it never went away. “The They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? Collection” (spring-summer 2004) was presented as if in a Depression-era dance-hall, a marathon where the models had to dance till they dropped in dresses that started out as perfect specimens and ended up in tatters. “The Wolves Collection” (autumn-winter 2002) was shown at the Conciergerie, in Paris, where Marie Antoinette had been held before she was sent to the guillotine. The opening model came out in a lavender hooded leather cape, walking a couple of trained wolves on leashes. (I think I only imagined their howling.) McQueen was the king of metaphor.

The immediate reaction to his death reinforced the notion that his wasn’t just another name on a label. Beyond the front-page stories and worldwide headlines, beyond the reports of his clothes’ selling out in department stores, there were Diana-like tributes. Students, artists, and fans left farewell notes and bunches of flowers outside his boutiques in London, Milan, Los Angeles, and New York, all of which were shuttered after the news broke. (The designer Diane von Furstenberg was spotted adding a bouquet to the ones that had already been dropped off at his shop on 14th Street in New York’s Meatpacking District.) McQueen’s death also coincided with the opening of New York Fashion Week, and there were nods to him in a number of the shows, including the beautifully elegiac opening of the Marc Jacobs presentation. No question: Alexander McQueen had become a name for the ages, the James Dean of fashion.

To call someone an artist in this milieu is tricky, because that can connote pretense, a rarefied air, a certain self-conscious preciousness—all things that were not true of McQueen. But fashion has produced genuine artists, designers with deeply iconoclastic visions such as Charles James and the painter and sculptor Lucio Fontana, who made clothes and jewelry for a short while. Although McQueen was very much a fashion person, working with a fashion vocabulary, his clothes and presentations had a true art streak. He even behaved like an old-fashioned artist, never letting the fact that he worked for giant, powerful fashion corporations—first for LVMH, where he was installed in 1996 as the designer of Givenchy, and then for PPR—curb his creativity or freedom. This wasn’t someone who’d suck up to the bosses or important editors or celebrities. Elton John, who befriended the designer and respected his talent, says, “McQueen was never anybody’s boy. He was never going to bow down and kiss ass to anyone, which made him rare in that world.” He was freakish in terms of his natural abilities too. Mark Lee, the highly respected former president of Gucci and Yves Saint Laurent (also owned by PPR), remembers, “Besides his eccentric vision, he really knew how to make and cut clothes. All the seamstresses, technicians, and product-development people who were around from the Gucci Group would talk about it all the time. He would just take a bolt of fabric and, in front of their eyes, would cut the pattern for his clothes. People said it was like watching Edward Scissorhands. There are not many designers around who can do that.” Similarly, McQueen often displayed a fearless, tour-de-force way with materials. There was nothing too fine or too common for him: neoprene, plastic, crocodile, paper, rose petals, antique lace, lamé … there was no stopping him. The finale of his autumn-winter 2006 collection, a pale-gray organza spiral ruffle dress, worn by Kate Moss, was as dreamy as it gets. That was highbrow McQueen; for lowbrow, look to his witty “bumster” pants from 1993—a feat of anatomical engineering described by one aficionada as “as low as you could go without having your trousers fall right down.”

McQueen used to call himself an East End bloke, which was code for saying he was not born into the world of caviar, champagne, and fine cloth. On a couple of occasions I had what he called “a proper English lunch” with him (I remember picking out the kidney in my steak-and-kidney pie), and each time he wanted to discuss the painter Francis Bacon. The combinations of gruesomeness and beauty, of raw flesh, homoerotic desire, and highly sophisticated execution that Bacon brought to his painting are not so far away from the concerns and approaches of McQueen’s work. There are personal parallels, too. I think of Bacon’s predilection for sex with men who were streetwise and of his finding refuge in the old London gay subculture. I think of the fact that his lover took his own life in 1971, on the eve of the opening of Bacon’s big retrospective in Paris, at the Grand Palais. (Camping it up, Bacon is supposed to have said, “Oh my dear, she’s gone and committed Susan-cide.”) For McQueen, too, a vociferously open gay man, there was an unforgettable combination of tough and fragile that was intrinsic to his emotional makeup. By all accounts, the designer’s childhood, growing up in the 1970s and early 80s, was like something out of Billy Elliot. His dad, Ronald, a taxi driver, reportedly had plans for his youngest child to become an electrician. (The designer had three sisters and two brothers.) McQueen, though, had fashion dreams, and as if that didn’t already make him a misfit in his environment, he had to put up with early torture about his sexuality; in his later life he often spoke about having been taunted with the nickname “McQueer” when he was young. Throughout, his mother was his shield, his advocate, the parent who eventually turned up at his shows, believing in his talent and adoring him unconditionally. Their bond was unbreachable from beginning to end.

McQueen’s formal education and professional rise are now part of fashion lore: the old-school tailoring training on Savile Row, where, as he later admitted and denied in equal measure, he had scrawled a punk-style slur—i am a cunt—inside the lining of a jacket being made for Prince Charles; the graduate fashion-school training at Central Saint Martins College; the meteoric trajectory of his career as a designer, which saw him going from overnight sensation after his last student collection to taking the reins for his bumpy five-year tenure at Givenchy, to finally having a house of his own, as Virginia Woolf might say, and really stretching his wings as a designer, to the sad, sad end.

The search for an answer as to why McQueen decided he’d had enough is really a struggle to find meaning in an act of nihilism. But as an old friend of his said to me, McQueen’s life was like an onion, and you have to peel away the layers to get to the center; it’s a process that can sting and bring tears. There was the loneliness, no doubt made all the more visceral by his mother’s death. Despite the surrogate family that McQueen created with a tiny clutch of fiercely close and protective friends—including Shaun Leane, the jewelry designer; Philip Treacy, the milliner; Daphne Guinness, the heiress, editor, and most daring dresser in fashion; Annabelle Neilson, a sort of sidekick; and Sam Gainsbury, who produced nearly all of McQueen’s shows—he had no long-term Mr. It. People remember how he’d say he was unlucky in love: he’d had a failed marriage to George Forsyth (Kate Moss was a bridesmaid at the 2000 wedding), and in the last years he seems to have had on-and-off liaisons with men, some of whom he met online. (Word is there was at least one porn star, a so-called Mr. Stag. There was also an older East End gangster he had a longer romance with.) Then there was his well-known history with drugs, especially cocaine. He was open about his substance abuse, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the autopsy told the same story when the results are released.

But it is my belief that all these traits were symptoms of something else. McQueen loved and collected art, and it is no coincidence that one of his favorite photographers was Joel-Peter Witkin, whose bleached and scratched images of masked figures, transsexuals, hermaphrodites, and corpses occupy a sometimes grim, sometimes joyous netherworld. The more one talks to those who knew McQueen, on and off the record, the deeper one goes, the clearer it becomes that what friends refer to as his “darkness” is where the truth of his death lies. Virginia Woolf and her struggle with depression is a kind of specter here. Sam Taylor-Wood says, “Lee would just sometimes go into this void, and we’d wait for him to resurface.”

He was not the only one in his circle to have terrible bouts with deep depression. Isabella Blow, his over-the-top, born-to-the-manor-but-without-a-pot-to-piss-in pal, who had an unlimited clothing allowance at his company and was often credited with discovering McQueen when he was in art school, also committed suicide, with weed poison, on her third attempt.

When Blow died, in May 2007, McQueen dedicated his next show to her, but some say he was angry at her for taking her own life. The rub is that he leaves behind a similar sense of frustration. There was a suicide note—what McQueen wrote hasn’t yet been disclosed—but it’s likely no one will ever know his whole story. Some have speculated that he may have felt he was done in fashion, sure of his legacy, and that his suicide was a kind of deliberate statement to that effect. Or was it something more uncontrollable? Sam Gainsbury says, “I appreciate that some people who were close to him think it was purposeful. But I think Lee got to a really dark place and could not get out of it. It was in that instance on that night. On another day maybe he would have gone to sleep and gotten out of it.”

People have commented on how, as the years went on, McQueen would disappear with lightning speed after his shows, rather than sticking around for the ritual backstage congratulations. “It always made me think of J. D. Salinger,” says Kerry Youmans, one of McQueen’s publicists. His suicide is perhaps the ultimate version of that impulse to withdraw. But PPR has announced that the McQueen business will continue. Fashion insiders have raised their carefully shaped eyebrows at the notion of replacing someone with so strong and individual a voice. McQueen’s friends remember his infectious laugh, and I wonder, could he be out there somewhere laughing now—maybe at the prospect of what will surely be a hard, hard search to fill his shoes? Or maybe in happiness that the line will go on?

I’m reminded of a show that McQueen did for autumn-winter 2007. It was known colloquially as “the Witches Collection” and was inspired by the fact that his mother, a genealogist, had discovered a relative who’d been a victim of the Salem witch trials. Like so many of McQueen’s presentations, this one had a high element of performance art to it—and a theme of death. The venue was very dark, people had difficulty finding their seats, the show started very late, it was raining outside, and there was an all-around bad mood in the air. Editors, who normally worshipped at McQueen’s feet, were yelling, “Who the fuck does he think he is? How dare he keep us all waiting like this?” The way people feel today, they’d be happy to wait for a much longer time to see one of his spectacles again, and they’d probably pay almost anything for his clothes.

[fashiontrendin-blog]

The Key Men’s Style Lessons To Learn From The Military

http://fashion-trendin.com/the-key-mens-style-lessons-to-learn-from-the-military/

The Key Men’s Style Lessons To Learn From The Military

War, huh, yeah. What’s it been good for? Absolutely nothing. Apart from, perhaps, shaping practically everything hanging in the male wardrobe today.

The 20th century’s conflicts may have been entirely undesirable, but it’s possible that without them, men would still be trapped in a sartorial straitjacket.

Crew neck T-shirts, chinos, bomber jackets; all infiltrated fashion from the front line, and few are showing any signs of retreating, but there was a time when the two were interdependent.

“It’s more of a two-way street than people realise,” says Amber Butchart, style historian and lecturer at The London College of Fashion. “Centuries ago, when military uniforms were standardised, most of the design came from the fashionable cuts of the time.” The flipside of this was the inspiration those military adaptations then gave back to designers, in New York, Paris and London.

Maybe it’s the timeless, functional nature of the garments that so appeals to men. Perhaps it’s the associations with heroism. Either way, it’s hard to go wrong with military clothing. Which is why enlisting these battle-dress staples is mission critical for your wardrobe.

Menswear Pieces That Started In The Military

The Trench Coat

Men’s fashion and military clobber have been close allies for so long that the origins of individual pieces are sometimes murky. As is the case with the trench coat, with fellow countrymen Aquascutum and Burberry both staking a claim.

“Thomas Burberry was commissioned by the war office to create a piece of outerwear suitable for soldiers on the front line during World War I,” says Butchart, siding with the latter. “He then developed a water-repellent cloth and the trench coat as we know it now came into being.”

Today the sleek, belted silhouette is considered a luxury essential and as such has spawned many variations, including long and short cuts, single- and double-breasted, and even modern colour-pop styles.

White T-Shirt

It’s hard to imagine what life would be like if arguably the most iconic menswear item in the world remained nothing more than an undergarment.

“It’s not so much a trending piece as a perennial relied upon by many,” says Henry Wilfrid, a men’s stylist who has worked with brands including Tom Ford, Dunhill and Reiss.

The most classic version of the T-shirt, a short-sleeved white cotton crew neck, first sprung to life as standard issue schmutter for the US Navy and later the army in the 1910s. When the war ended, tens of thousands of soldiers took the fashion home with them. Brando, Dean, Beckham. The rest, as they say, is history.

Pilot’s Watch

Ever since man first took to the skies, watchmakers have been working hard to create a ticker to help him land at his destination on time.

The pilot’s watch is the fruit of their labour. “It’s a great example of function over form,” says Terry Markham, head of buying at WatchShop.com. “The beauty of the pilot design is that it comes in a simple colour palette, is easy to read, is not overtly branded, and wears well dressed up or down.”

One of the most popular choices on the market, the best pilot’s watches are chronographs with features such as unidirectional bezels, lumed hands and are flanked by either a leather or nato strap.

The Bomber Jacket

Like most military clothing, the bomber jacket was originally developed as utility wear, designed to keep pilots warm in cockpits so rickety and thin that freezing was as much a risk as being shot out of the sky.

Early styles were cut from heavy-duty leather and lined with insulating sheepskin (more closely resembling what is now known as an ‘aviator jacket’), but today it’s more common to see the nylon MA-1 model flying up and down runways.

“The bomber jacket has been a key piece for a few seasons now,” says Wilfrid. “For a more formal interpretation, look out for leather trims or even styles made with a velvet fabric.”

Chinos

When it comes to trousers that sit slap bang in the middle of smart and casual, you’d be hard-pressed to find a pair that fit the bill better than chinos.

“Before landing on college campuses across the US in the mid-20th century, chinos were built for battle,” says Chris Gove, creative director of British menswear brand Percival. Developed from khakis, which were created as a way to camouflage British troops stationed in India, chinos came crafted from pure twill cotton in a sandy, light-brown shade to provide a hard-wearing and comfortable means of going low-profile during war in dusty places.

“Nowadays, chinos will do little to keep you incognito, but they do offer an updated, streamlined way of nailing Ivy League style, with the same hardy wear.”

Desert Boots

While stationed in Burma in the 1940s, a young Nathan Clark clocked the comfortable suede boots worn by off-duty officers and did what any sane, budding fashion tycoon would have. He said “I’m having that” and went home to put the footwear into production.

More than half a century later, the desert boot is one of the most popular and versatile shoes around.

“It’s the best compromise between smart and casual,” says Daniel Johnson, a stylist who has worked with the likes of Ralph Lauren, Paul Smith and Hermès. “I’d personally look for a pair made of suede rather than leather, styled with selvedge denim jeans or soft cashmere trousers.”

The Peacoat

Military menswear doesn’t just come from the skies or dry land, the heroes at sea have provided civilians with countless modern essentials, including the peacoat.

A product of 19th-century nautical attire, this cropped, double-breasted style made inroads into men’s fashion after World War II due to the post-war surplus and subsequent low cost.

“The Navy heritage is why peacoats tend to be navy,” explains Mr Porter US editor Dan Rookwood, who suggests looking for a modern style constructed with a high wool content. “It’ll come with a higher price tag, but the investment will be well worth it.

Cardigan

As hard as it is to believe, your granddad isn’t the originator of the cardigan. This geek chic classic also has military roots.

“The seventh Earl of Cardigan, James Thomas Burdenell lays claim to its parentage, having commissioned it for British soldiers during the Crimean War,” says Gove. Initial designs were sleeveless vests loosely based on waistcoats, but designs with sleeves soon followed.

The cardigan is now loved for its insulation, not only by OAPs but practically every style tribe and subculture imaginable. If you still need convincing that the cardigan is cool, Kurt Cobain couldn’t get enough of them.

Combat Trousers

We’re sure cargo trousers came in for a tough ride during World War Two, when British forces relied on their patch pockets to hold field dressings. But that’s arguably nothing compared to what they endured during the nineties at the hands of boybands.

Fortunately, these functional combat kecks have been increasing their rank in recent seasons. “Side patch pockets on tailored casual trousers have been a slow-burning trend for a while, and we’re now seeing them on the high street,” says Wilfrid.

No longer the preserve of weekend dads, designers and brands have worked hard to produce slimmed-down cargo trousers that could easily sub in for trousers on more casual days. Providing they don’t zip-off at the knee.

Style Lessons To Learn From The Military

Go All-Out Green

Even if a traditional military garment isn’t your wardrobe weapon of choice, you can still sign up to military style by utilising its preferred colour palette.

“Shades of green are a key colour trend,” says Wilfrid, no doubt because of their ability to be worn tonally head to toe, or flank everything from black denim when worn as a coat, to a suit when worn as a knitted tie.

Get Suited For War

Fond as we were of our childhood Action Man figures, dressing like one in later life should never be the aim. Remember that military coats, duffles and peas in particular, can join forces with a range of other attire.

“The peacoat is hugely versatile in terms of styling,” says Rookwood. “Its length is longer than a blazer, and it tends to be roomier in the shoulder so can easily be layered over a suit.”

“That said, it also looks slick worn casually with dark selvedge jeans and brown brogue boots.” In short: pick right and you’ll have the armour for all-out smart offence and a more conservative, casual defence.

Pore Over The Details

You don’t need to be a particularly big fan of Michael Jackson (or battle reenactment, for that matter) to know that military garments can be heavy on details.

“These were born out of necessity on the front line,” says Butchart. “Epaulettes were there to hold gloves or caps. While waist straps were originally used to hold grenades or swords.”

Respect the functions, but remember that too much detailing can make an item look more casual. When buying new, favour examples with fewer bells and whistles to ensure they’ll work better with everything in your wardrobe.

Go Commando

The first rubber lug soles to hit the footwear market featured a tread design called a ‘Carrarmato‘, the Italian word for tank. So it’s little surprise the hiking-inspired design would soon end up on the feet of foot soldiers.

Today, rugged commando soles aren’t only a way to easily navigate rain, ice and snow, they’re also a way of saluting the forces without straying into fancy dress territory.

“Recently these thick tread soles have been applied to everything from boots to city shoes like brogues and Derbies,” says Gove. “Wear them with a suit or simple trousers and T-shirt combination.” Overdoing it is your enemy here.

Keep Those Boots Polished

Military men will go to extreme lengths to get their best boots gleaming, even after a 10-mile hill run in mud bath conditions. So, there’s no excuse for you to have a pair of grubby stompers at the ends of your legs.

“It’s important to look after leather shoes using a spray or protector because leather is a natural product so reacts to the weather and temperatures,” says Kurt Geiger buying manager Robbie Evans. “By treating them, you’ll be able to protect and prolong the natural fibres and overall look and quality for longer.”

If wary about chemicals on your clodhoppers, you can use a natural leather conditioner made from something like beeswax. Massage this into the leather in circular motions whenever it feels dry to help to keep your shoes soft and supple.

Basic Training

As far as military wardrobes go, it’s all about the basics. Without an army of classics like the white T-shirt, there’s no hope of advancing your style game.

“If you don’t have the basics in your wardrobe already you’ll find it hard to put outfits together,” says Sarah Gilfillan, a stylist and founder of men’s personal shopping service SartoriaLab. “These pieces give a blank canvas on which to add more trend-driven or statement pieces.”

Cover your bases with a well-fitting white tee, sky blue Oxford shirt, grey sweatshirt, quality wool overcoat and some sturdy dark denim.

Embrace The Tuck

A marine whose shirt-tucking knowhow maxes out at ‘shove it in my pants and hope for the best’ can expect nose-to-nose screaming from a red-faced drill sergeant.

For civvies, however, there’s no such person to keep us in sartorial step. Which means it pays to learn how to do it the right way without prompt.

“The military tuck refers to a technique of tucking a shirt neatly into trousers,” explains Gilfillan. “It’s achieved by pulling the shirt down and tucking in tightly before making a vertical fold at either side of the waist to get rid of any excess fabric.” With no fabric at ease around your waist, you’re good to go.

Organise With Military Precision

Ever wonder how army guys can bolt out of bed with a second’s notice at five in the morning and still look put together? One word: organisation.

“Although it may not come naturally, it pays off to be organised with your wardrobe,” says Gilfillan. “A lot of guys will buy items, then find they have nothing to wear them with. When adding to your wardrobe ask yourself if you can wear something with at least three different things.”

As well as this, consider ordering items in your wardrobe by type, so it’s obvious what your missing in your wardrobe and take some time at the weekend to build outfits for future reference.