#this album came out three months ago and i consistently fall more in love with it
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septembersghost · 2 years ago
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patrick stump. sir. honey bunny. what did you put in these melodies what siren power is in your voice we need to TALK. plus the instrumentation the arrangements the intricacies the contrasts happening between the raw lyrical emotion and the soaring layered sounds here...the more i listen to smfs the more convinced i become that it's some of their all-time best work
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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago
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Waiting for you - Harry Styles
❄️ FANFICmas 2020 ❄️
Read more about FANFICmas here!
i wrote it over like a month ago, but kept it for today, i hope yall will like it! it’s a cute bestfriends to lovers fic, so yeah... happy holidays, hope you are having an amazing time!
word count: 13k
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Harry Styles has been a household name around your home, but not for the reason many would think. While for the rest of the world he was the famous singer, former member of One Direction and recent solo artist, the guy who performs at the biggest arenas, wins awards and sings his heart out through the radio, for you and your mom he was the goofy, curly haired boy who lived across the street with his mum, sister and stepdad.
You still remember all too clear the first time you met him. You and your mum just moved into your new home after the nasty divorce of your parents, ready to start a new life. You’ve barely turned twelve, it was quite the awkward stage of your teenage years, you were still trying to find yourself on the rocky road of growing up. Moving to a whole new town and switching schools were terrifying and you had quite a few nightmares about possible outcomes of being the new girl in the neighborhood.
You and your mum just finished unpacking the dishes in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. She rushed to answer it and you wandered behind her, curiously peeking at the guests under her arm as she held the door open.
“Hi! We saw the trucks and thought we would say hi! I’m Anne and this is my son, Harry,” the nice woman greeted your mum and stepping aside she gestured towards the teenage boy standing next to her.
His green eyes fell to you almost immediately and you forgot to breathe for a moment. You were not the kind to crush that easily on guys, well, not until you laid your eyes on Harry. He smirked at you, nodding in your way in such an easy-going manner and you could feel the heat crawling up your neck to your cheeks and ears.
Anne and your mum quickly became good friends. She was the rock your mum definitely needed after such a bad year behind her and you were glad she found support in such a wonderful woman as Anne. Their newly funded friendship got stronger day by day until the two families just… simply felt one.
Growing up the Styles siblings and Anne came and go in your home as if they lived there too. On many occasions you came home from school only to find Anne in the kitchen while your mother wasn’t even home. Anne always knew when your mum was working the night shift at the hospital where she was a nurse and always made sure you had a warm dinner on those evenings, often inviting you over to just stay at theirs while your mum was away working. Birthdays, graduations, Easters and Christmases, they were all spent at either yours or at the Styles home, strengthening the bond between the two families.
You have always had a strong friendship with Gemma, but maybe because you were closer in age or for something else, but you became the closest with Harry. Two peas in a pod, as your mums liked to call the two of you. You weren’t just neighbors or good friends, it was clear to anyone and to both of you as well that you were the best of friends. You were there for each other at the best and worst of times, before and after Harry’s launch to stardom. You were there with him all along, sometimes physically, sometimes just through text messages and reassuring calls when he just needed a piece of his home away from home. Late night calls and talks were your usual when he was on the road and he made sure to only talk about his life after you’ve told him everything about yours, even if the most interesting thing was that you were able to buy three socks for the price of two. Harry listened and cared for everything that happened to you, not letting you think even for a moment that he would forget about his best friend when he is on the other side of the planet.
The two of you grew up together and while his life consisted of concerts, screaming fans, telly appearances and award shows, your mundane everydays went on the same was as any normal young girl’s: you graduated from high school, went to uni and then started a career for yourself. As time was moving it became a little more and more complicated to stay as close as you used to, though, both of you terribly busy with your own personal lives, so the calls, texts and meetings became less frequent, but you were always able to pick up from where you left, it was as easy with him as it could be.
Maybe that’s why you grew to love him in a more than friendly way through the years. Slowly, but surely you started to realize what an amazing man he really was –is. It was impossible not to fall for him, however you valued your close friendship more than to just ruin it with dropping a bomb on Harry. You always thought he doesn’t feel the same way, so you were sadly left with your daydreams and fantasies about him only your bedroom walls heard.
This year it’s gonna be the tenth Christmas you get to celebrate together, quite the anniversary. There were only two years when you didn’t see each other during the holidays, the first one because you and your mum spent it in Canada with some relatives that live there, and the second one was because Harry couldn’t come home a few years ago, having a too tight schedule. But this year, everyone made sure to make it back home in time. Harry called you three month before Christmas to check in if you are still gonna coming home.
“Would be an idiot not to. Can’t wait to stuff my head with cookies!” you chuckled.
“Have you found your sweater yet?” Harry questioned, the muffled noise of the traffic around him broke through the line as he was on his way home when he called.
“Not yet. But I’ve been looking. I’m pretty sure I’m gonna win this year,” you smirked in victory.
“Oh, not so fast with the assumptions, little girl!” he warned you making you laugh.
The two of you had a kind of tradition. Every year, you go on mission to find the ugliest Christmas sweaters one could find, and then perform a chosen song at the karaoke machine after dinner, entertaining the rest of the family. Those performances are the best memories you nurse. Your absolute favorite one was just a couple of years ago when Harry’s sweater was filled with weird looking reindeers in quite inappropriate poses, he even added a glittery pair of sunnies and he sang I Want To Break Free from the Queen. Everyone was on the floor laughing as he took the living room by storm as if it was the Maddison Square Garden filled with thousands of screaming fans, while it was just the five of you.
He won that year, Hell, even you voted on him, giving him the cleanest win of all times, but you swore to live up to that performance and you really feel like this year is gonna be your chance to live up to that promise. You have quite some tricks up your sleeves.
These past couple of years you were anxiously waiting for the holidays to roll around, because you knew you would get to spend so much time with Harry and through the year, even with several occasions of the two of you meeting, you missed him dearly. Sometimes you selfishly wished he would have just stayed the boy across the street so your lives could take tracks that run at least close to each other, but you always reminded yourself that his work was his life and you would have never taken away his true passion and happiness. Besides, you love watching him perform from time to time, that was just one of your favorite sides of him, see his eyes shine so bright as he sang to his fans. You used to envy the fangirls, it always seemed like he had a special connection with them, but you realized that you were one of them. You felt the same excitement when he stepped on the stage, you bought all his albums, even though he made sure you’d be one of the first people to get your hands on it. You had a second copy of them, because buying it gave you the extra jolt of happiness and the feeling that you were a tiny part of his success too. You watched all his music videos, knew the lyrics to his songs and cheered on him whenever he won another award. Difference was that at the end of the day you could call him and tell him how proud you were of him and he stared back at you with that beautiful grin, his dimples digging deep in his cheeks, telling you that he wouldn’t be here without you. You always knew he just said it to make you feel special, but he insisted it was the truth.
“I’m telling you. It you weren’t with me I would have gone crazy already, pulling a Justin Bieber or summat. Don’t think you are any less than what you are, that’s just daft.”
Every time he said something along those lines those damned butterflies in your stomach went crazy and you tried your best to ignore them. You didn’t always succeed, but the effort was there.
 Now it’s two days before Christmas and you are already standing in your old room after coming home from London, leaving your small but cozy little apartment empty until the next year. The walls are still the same lilac color you chose when you were fourteen, a twin bed is pushed against the wall under your window, the wardrobe’s door is littered with old pictures from high school and ones you cut out from magazines. You just never got around to take them down and after a while it brought you a comforting sense every time you came home. A warm nostalgia took over you when you saw them, so they eventually stayed.
Your suitcase is lying on the floor as you unpack some stuff you’ll be using often during your stay, but you don’t get far in the packing when you hear an all too familiar voice coming from downstairs. Leaving your stuff as it is you rush down and throw your arms around Anne from behind, who is standing in the kitchen with your mum.
“My sweet angel! How are you?!” she cheers turning around in your hold to hug you back, giving you a tight squeeze before she pushes you away so she can have a good look on you. “Swear you get prettier every time I see you!”
“Stop it, my head’s gonna get big,” you chuckle feeling yourself blushing a little.
“Never gonna stop praising my daughter,” she smiles and gifts you with a cheeky wink.
Anne was never shy to let you know that she thought of you as a second daughter and you still remember how it felt when she called you that for the first time. It felt nice to know that you could count on her no matter what.
The three of you chat in the kitchen, Anne asks you about your job and how things have been going, she hasn’t seen you in a while. You missed the times when you could just go across the street and have a talk with her whenever you wanted, but since you’ve moved to London, Harry wasn’t the only one you didn’t get to see as often as you would have wanted. Your job and life overall got you so busy sometimes, you barely had time to call your own mum.
“Harry is arriving this evening. Wanna come with us to fetch him up at the airport?” she asks you and of course you say yes. You wouldn’t miss the chance to greet him with a bone crushing hug just after he lands.
However, as the time nears when you’d have to leave to the airport, Anne calls you up and asks if you could go on your own.
“I didn’t finish cooking and Gems is in an online meeting. Would you mind if you went alone?” she asks and though it sounds a little made up, you don’t question her.
On your way to the airport you are nervously drumming on the wheel, the thought of seeing Harry excites and worries you a little. It’s been months since you last seen him in the flesh and though you’ve talked plenty of times on the phone and in video calls, it’s just not the same. You find yourself wondering if he still smells the same, if you’ll fit the same way into his embrace as before. When you were younger you often liked to think about the two of you as two pieces of legos when you hugged. Your frame just fitted so perfectly against his body, he was your absolutely favorite person to hug.
Standing in a corner at the terminal, you keep checking the board until his flight’s status changes to landed. Then your eyes are glued to the sliding glass doors, knowing well it’s gonna take him some time to get his bags and walk out, but you are just way too excited to finally see him again.
People start walking through the doors and your head perks up every time you see a slightly tall frame, only to realize it’s still not him. Until it is.
You can’t bite your growing smile back when you spot him, a beanie and the hood of his hoodie covering his mop of hair, sunnies hiding his eyes, but you’d recognize him even from just the tiniest detail. You push yourself away from the wall as you see him look around, probably searching for his mum and sister, because he was already on his way when Anne decided it’s gonna be you who fetches him up, so he doesn’t know about the change.
“Excuse me, can I get a picture?” you ask teasingly walking up to him and for a moment you can tell he believes it’s a fan who recognized him, but his face quickly changes once his eyes land on you.
“Fo’ fuck’s sake, you had me for a second,” he breathes out, his arms already reaching out to pull you against him and you gladly envelop yourself into his hold. “What are you doing here?” he mumbles tightening his arms around you, and you don’t mind it. As you face is pressed into his shoulder you smile when you realize that he still smells the same. Like home.
“Your mum asked me to come and get you because she didn’t finish cooking. But if you ask me she just wanted to surprise you with me. You happy to see me?” you smirk up at him letting your head fall back so you could look into his eyes.
“Always,” he grins before placing a soft kiss to your temple and letting go of you.
The two of you leave the terminal before anyone could recognize him and packing his stuff up into the car you head back home.
You hand your phone over to him once you hit the road so he can be in charge of the music and it’s no surprise when he starts playing Christmas music straight away. Grinning to yourself you glance over at him and see him scrolling through your camera roll like the nosy little gremlin that he is.
“Hey! I did not give you permission to snoop around my phone!” you warn him, but don’t try to snatch it away from him, there’s really nothing he shouldn’t see, besides, half of those pics have been sent to him through messages.
“Just tryna catch up w’ you,” he mumbles under his breath, continuously opening up photos he is interested in. “New couch, eh?” he asks showing you the screen for a second.
“Yeah, bought it a few weeks ago. You like it?”
“Looks comfy. I should try it out sometime.”
“You never sleep on my couch, what are you talking about?”
“Right, you always drag me t’ your bed,” he snorts and you gasp at him, smacking his chest gently.
“That’s so not true! You always just arbitrarily make yourself comfortable in my bed and I don’t have the heart to kick you out,” you correct him.
There hasn’t been many times when Harry crashed at your place, but when he did, he always slept in your bed with you, and the two of you have shared a bed a few other times prior too. It’s nothing new, though it does have a deeper meaning for you than for him, you think. Waking up with Harry snoring lightly next to you, admiring how peaceful and beautiful he is in this intimate state, you just wish you could see him like this all the time.
Harry smirks at you cheekily, scrunching his nose as he chuckles.
“’Cause I wouldn’t want to sleep anywhere else, Love,” he says before turning his attention back to your phone while you try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach at the nickname.
It’s quite late by the time you get home, you’ve run into some traffic, but it just meant more time with Harry. You gladly listened to his stories and you are happy you got some alone time with him. Parking up to your driveway you help him unload his bags before locking the car.
“Wanna go to the Christmas market in the morning? Promised Gemma I’d go with her and Michal,” he asks, slowly walking down the driveway towards his home.
“Uh, sure,” you nod smiling. Not that you had any other plans, the holidays are reserved for family and the Styles’ are family.
“Great, I’ll be here at ten. And thanks for the ride,” he smirks waving goodbye and you watch him cross the street before he disappears in his home and you do the same.
“Y/N? Is that you?” your mum calls out when you walk in.
“Were you expecting anyone else?” you ask, hanging your coat before you join her in the living room.
“Not,” she smiles giddily. “Was everything alright at the airport?”
You throw your legs over her lap and she squeezes your ankles playfully.
“Yeah, everything fine.”
“How is Harry?”
“Cheeky and smug, as always,” you huff smirking.
“Can’t wait to see him. I feel like I haven’t seen ‘im in ages.”
“When are they coming over tomorrow?”
“Anne said she’ll come around four to help me cook, the rest I don’t know. Dinner will be done around seven though.”
“I’m pretty sure Gemma and Harry will be here along with Anne,” you snort, knowing well they wouldn’t miss a chance to come over, especially Harry. He has been talking nonstop how he’ll be glued to your hip once he is back home, making up for all the time you’ve spent apart.
“They surely will,” your mum chuckles before you both turn your attention at the telly.
You go to bed way after midnight and finish up the packing you left abruptly when you left to get Harry. Shuffling around in your room you glance out the window and see that the light in Harry’s room is on too. Peeking out you lean against the window’s frame, thinking about the times when the two of you sat in the window, talking on the phone after curfew, keeping your voice down so your parents didn’t wake up, sharing secrets and your silliest thoughts. With Harry, you never felt like you had to keep anything back, he would have never judged you for anything, you could be your true self around him and vice versa.
A tall figure appears at the window and as Harry glances out his window he is quick to see you sitting on the window sill, your head resting against the frame. The two houses are not far away from each other and you see him grinning as he sits at the window as well, pulling out his phone, a moment later yours starts buzzing on the nightstand. You quickly grab it, and go back to the window.
“Creeping on me, eh?” he hums into the phone and you roll your eyes at him.
“Was just admiring the street lights, don’t flatter yourself, your head is getting too big,” you huff, but you can’t push your smirk down.
“Admit it, you were hoping to see me roam around naked, weren’t you?”
“As if I haven’t seen you like that before,” you snort making him laugh too. It’s true, Harry has never been shy to get rid of his clothes and he also doesn’t bother to draw the blinds whenever he is changing. You once saw him butt naked when he was nineteen, and when you told him to close the blinds next time he is changing, he just shrugged with a smug smile.
“’M not ashamed of anything, Love,” he told you and you had to turn away because you were blushing for sure.
“Right, you’re a fan of putting yourself on full display when you’re naked, almost forgot,” you chuckle shaking your head. “Millions of girls have the picture of you, lying naked on their walls.”
“You one of them?” he cheekily asks.
“Nah, doesn’t go well with the vibe of my apartment.”
“Shame. Though I think it would definitely look amazin’ above your bed, Love.”
“Now would it? I don’t know about that.”
“I’ll get you a copy framed,” he smirks and you can see it clear even from the distance. “Y’ know what? I’ll make you an exclusive one. One that nobody else has, how does that sound?”
“I can’t believe you, Styles,” you chuckle shaking your head. “I’m not gonna answer this, just gonna head to bed. You should too.”
“So we’re not sharing any secrets like we used to? Thought you’d have something fo’ me.”
“You know everything, Harry,” you sigh with a soft smile, though your heart skips a beat. He does know everything, except one big, fat, heavy secret you’ve been carrying around for way too long, that will probably stay with you forever.
“Right. Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Night, Harry.”
“Good night, Love,” he murmurs and you know he is smiling, thought he steps away from the window as he says goodbye and you do the same before ending the call.
 ***
 “Hey! That’s mine!” you protest as Harry steals another roasted chestnut from your little paper bag, but you can’t stay mad at him when he is smiling at you so sweetly.
“Sorry, tastes better when it’s someone else’s.”
“Sure,” you snort and just let him get as many as he wants. You wouldn’t have eaten it all anyway.
It’s quite cold out in the town, but at least there’s no rain or storm, so the weather didn’t try to ruin your little trip to the Christmas market.
Gemma calls out for Harry to show him something and you just keep wandering between the booths, enjoying the atmosphere quite a lot, you have no idea when was the last time you got to come to the market, though you always loved coming when you were younger.
Finishing up your chestnuts you throw the paper bag into a trash can and turn around to find the rest of your little group, spotting Harry and Gemma deep in discussion next to a booth that offers handmade ceramic mugs. As you walk closer it almost seems like as if they were having a fight, which is just odd, they rarely do that.
“Just get your head out of your arse!” you catch Gemma telling her brother who only groans in frustration before he spots you, a smile plastering across his face.
“Hey, there you are!” he beams.
“Everything alright?” you ask looking at them.
“Sure, just Gemma is being a little nosy, is all,” Harry waves in dismiss. You glance over to Gems, but she is already back in discussion with Michal so you decide to drop it. “You ate all the chestnuts?” Harry asks offended, throwing an arm around your shoulders.
“Well, it was mine, so of course I ate them!”
“Selfish,” he narrows his eyes at you, but you both know it’s just a joke.
You walk further down in the aisle, occasionally stopping at some of the booth when you spot a place that offers hot chocolate in cute little mugs that you can take home with you if you’d like, or just take it back and get your money back.
“Oh look!” you gasp excitedly and head towards the hot chocolate booth. The old lady smiles brightly at the two of you as you take a look at all the choices. “Oh my god, they have caramel flavored!” you cheer, basically already drooling at the thought of a good, caramel flavored hot chocolate.
“What can I get for the lovely couple?” the lady smiles warmly at the two of you and you freeze at her assumption.
“Oh we—“ you start, but Harry cuts you off.
“A caramel flavored and a plain one, please,” he orders, without even batting an eye about how the lady just called you a couple. You can feel your cheeks heating up at the thought, but you try to calm yourself. He probably just didn’t want to get into explaining that you two are not an item and let her think what she wanted.
The nice lady hands you your mug and you take Harry’s as well as he pays for both of them. You would try to argue with him and pay yours, but you are already used to how stubborn he is and he never lets you split anything, it’s always on him.
“Thank you, have a nice day!” Harry calls out to the lady before the two of you leave. You peek at him handing him his mug, looking for any clue that would give away if this little scene got him just as bothered as it did you, but he looks perfectly fine and relaxed, so you decide not to bring it up. You’re sure he didn’t think much of it.
Your little stroll stretches into the afternoon, the four of you decide to have lunch out there too, then you just opt for a walk in town as Gemma wants to do a quick last minute Christmas shopping, so by the time you get home Anne is already over at yours helping your mum with dinner. Tonight you are all eating at yours, then tomorrow it’s the Styles’ turn to host, this is how you agreed this year.
“Woah, it smells amazing!” you call out walking into the house. The delicious smells fill up the whole place and you hear the two women giggling in the kitchen.
“Hi Honey, how was the market?” your mum greets you, a glass of red wine in her hand and the same goes for Anne.
“Great, we have a new mug,” you say holding up the emptied out hot chocolate mug. Stepping to the sink you wash it quickly and drying off you put it away in one of the cabinets.
You stick around in the kitchen and not so much later Harry comes over, the two of you leave your mums alone and get comfortable in front of the telly.
All channels are filled with holiday movies and you don’t mind, really, you like them all even if you’ve seen them a million times, you still find them funny and cute. Harry feels the same way, so when you settle on Love Actually he doesn’t say a word.
What startles you is that he grabs your ankles and pulls your legs over his lap, a small shriek escaping your mouth since you weren’t expecting him to do that. You’re sitting sideways, your legs are bent at the knee and Harry is kind of hugging them as his eyes are glued to the screen.
You find it rather hard to focus on the movie when Harry’s fingers keep fidgeting on your legs, they keep running up and down, sometimes he lays his hands flat on your knees, there’s no spot he hasn’t touched since you started watching the movie.
About an hour into the film he turns to you and you look at him in question.
“’M in the mood to cuddle,” he announces and starts moving around, not even letting you protest as he basically crawls to your lap, resting his head on your stomach as the two of you lay on the couch.
“Am I now your personal pillow?” you ask chuckling, but you wouldn’t want him to move for anything. Feeling him weigh down on you just feels so warm and simple but amazing.
“The best one,” he mumbles, bringing a hand to your side as you let your fingers comb through his curls.
You keep massaging his scalp and he lets out soft moans when you go over a soft spot, you can’t help but chuckle as he melts under your hands. His fingers start drawing circles on your side and the movie is long forgotten by you, all you can focus on is how great it is to have Harry so close to you. He is known to be a physical person, you are used to hugs and touches, but it seems like he is a little needier now than the usual.
You don’t mind it though, you just try to enjoy the moment, because it can end anytime.
Gemma and Michal come over a little before seven, and while your mums finish up the cooking the four of you set the table. You grab the crystal glasses and start placing them to the table, Harry lending you a hand. Once the table is all set you shuffle into the kitchen to see if there’s anything you can help with, Harry following you behind, placing a hand to the small of your back.
As you stand and wait for you mum to finish up the meals so you can help carry them to the table you feel Harry’s hand wander over to your hip, giving it a squeeze as he stands closer, so his chest is pressed against your back.
“Harry?” you ask a little out of breath.
“Hm?” he innocently hums.
“What’s with you today?” Turning your head to the side your eyes lock with his, but he just shrugs smiling.
“Guess I just missed yeh a lot.”
“You’re weird,” you chuckle shaking your head, but don’t make an effort to push him away. His touch feels way too good to put an end to it and you just want to be selfish a little longer.
His hands leave you when the two of you help to bring the food to the table, and you almost wish they would just return, but you gotta swallow the thought.
The food is amazing, as always. You all sip on some wine, just having a genuinely good time, enjoying that all of you are back at one place, something that rarely happens now that all three of you kids are all grown up.
At one point Harry rests his arm on the back of your chair, no one seems to notice but you. All these little things have been driving you crazy all day and your mind seems to be playing a nasty game with you. There’s no way Harry thinks of these details more than what they are, a friendly gesture towards an old friend of his.
When Gemma is telling a story about some weird guy she met at work Harry reaches up and pushes your hair behind your ear, his finger lingering over your neck a little longer than you would have expected. Turning to face him you give him a questioning look, not sure what to think about his needy and touchy self all of a sudden.
“What?” you mouth him, but he just smiles at you absentmindedly, curling a strand of hair around his finger, playing with it for a moment before letting go of it and going for another lock. You reach up and pull his hand away, feeling yourself heating up from his touch, but when you are about to let go of his hand he grabs yours, lacing your fingers together with yours as he rests them on his thigh.
“Harry…” you breathe out, glancing at the others, relieved to see that they are not paying much attention to the two of you.
“What? Am I not allowed to touch you?” he asks with a smug smirk and you roll your eyes at him.
“As I said, you’re weird,” you mumble under your breath looking down at your now empty plate. Harry gives your hand a squeeze.
“But like, the good kind of weird, yeah?”
“Shut up,” you chuckle shaking your head at him.
You try to tell yourself he is just needy because it’s been so long since you last saw each other. It can’t be more, you push even the smallest thought to the back of your mind, though it surely lingers there throughout the evening.
He helps you with washing the dishes, you stand arm to arm at the sink as you scrub the plates and hand over to him for drying. He gently hums to himself all along, swaying his hips, bumping against yours. At first you resist it, but then you catch the rhythm and start moving along, so your hips meet in the middle before swinging to the opposite side.
“What’s the song?” you ask finishing up the last plate.
“Just something random,” he shrugs smirking over at you. You hand him the last plate, he is still singing, making up gibberish lyrics to his song and once he puts the plate down he throws the kitchen cloth to the counter and easily grabs your waist pulling you against him as he starts swaying with you to his impromptu song. You let out a small shriek at the sudden movement, but eventually melt into his hold. The humming slowly turns into an all too familiar melody as Harry starts singing Sweet Creature into your ear, slow dancing in the kitchen while you hear your mums and Gemma laugh outside somewhere.
Your hands run up his arms and stop behind his neck as you lock your fingers and let him hold you close, his palms are pressed to your waist, fingers gently stroking you through the fabric of your shirt. You take a deep breath and his cologne fills your nose, one of your favorite scents, sometimes you just wish you could spray it on your pillow so it would always smell like him.
“Sweet creature, wherever I go, you bring me home…” he softly sings, leaning back just enough for your eyes to meet. It feels like your heart is about to burst out of your chest, it’s not the first time you feel so intimidated by him, like you could pass out any moment, but this is a little different. As if his eyes were telling you another story, but you can’t completely make up the words.
“Sweet creature, when I run out of road, you bring me home, you’ll bring me home.” He finishes the song, hums the closing melody and you watch him in complete awe. Your lips part when you catch his gaze move down to them and you swear you see him leaning closer, as if he is about to kiss you. Your breath gets caught in your throat, he is so close, just a few more inches and you’d taste those perfect lips of his, the ones you’ve been dreaming about for way too long.
It almost happens, it seems, but just when that last push is about to set in Gemma waltz into the kitchen and you step back faster than light, pushing him away even though the sudden lack of his touch is more painful than you were expecting.
“You guys—Oh, what’s up?” she asks stopping at the door and you feel yourself getting redder with each passing moment, the heat crawling up your neck, ears cheeks, right to the top of your head. What were you thinking? You let yourself believe Harry would ever kiss you, this whole scene was nothing more than just a friendly moment the two of you were sharing.
“I’m—sorry,” you breathe out making your way out of the kitchen, right up to your room to have some well needed space.
“Way to ruin everything,” Harry snickers at his sister.
“You joking? You wanted to kiss her in her mum’s kitchen?” Gemma snaps at him in disbelief.
“We were having a moment,” he mumbles rubbing his face with his hands. “Up until you stomped in with your big mouth.”
“Well, if you were havin’ a moment, just make it happen again.”
“As if it’s that easy, Gemma!” he scoffs throwing his hands in the air.
“Man up and tell her how you feel, don’t have to complicate it too much,” she shrugs before walking out and leaving her brother alone. Harry growls in frustration, the gears in his head turning wildly as he is trying to figure out how to come clear to you about his feelings.
 Meanwhile, up in your room you get out your laptop and busy yourself with checking up on messages and emails you’ve been ignoring, hoping that the uneasy feeling in your chest will ease very soon. Your hands were shaking when you locked yourself up in your room, but as you get focused on other tasks you slowly gain your balance back.
You kind of even forget that the Styles’ were over, you only realize that you abruptly pulled yourself out of the evening when there’s a soft knock on your door.
“Come on in!” you call out and a moment later Harry’s head pops in, eyes softly falling on your sitting figure on the bed. “Hey,” you smile at him faintly.
“Hey. Thought you were sleepin’s or summat.” Coming inside he closes the door behind him then sits on your plush rug in the middle of the room.
“Just… sorted some work related things out,” you sigh.
“Working during the holidays? Tha’s not healthy.”
“I know, I’m done,” you smile shutting the laptop down and putting it aside. “Sorry I disappeared, I just—“
“No worries,” Harry shakes his head. “Mum and Gems went home, they thought you were sleeping too, tha’s why they didn’t say goodbye.”
“Oh, alright.”
“But I thought we could have a sleepover,” he peeks at you with a boyish smile.
“What, like we did in middle school?” you chuckle.
“Yea, thought it would be fun.”
“Well, I don’t think my bed would fit us comfortably and we don’t have the mattress anymore that you used to sleep on,” you tell him looking around.
“Nonsense, I’m not tha’ big,” he insists hopping to his feet and throwing himself on the bed, ignoring that you’re already there. His body takes up more than half on the bed , limbs wrapping around you as he brings you down to the mattress next to him, you can’t help the laugh that leaves your lips.
“You’re like a gigantic baby, Harry!” you laugh as he keeps you down on the bed with his arm.
“It’s perfectly fine for two people,” he mumbles with a smirk, closing his eyes as his head sinks into your pillow.
“Do you ever get no as an answer?” you ask looking at him in awe. You can never get used to seeing him so up close, like not many get to.
“No,” he huffs in satisfaction, his arm bringing you closer to him and you just giggle at him.
“I’m not sleeping just yet, gotta have a shower first.”
“Do what you want, I’ll be here,” he mumbles but you snort at him.
“You’re not sleeping in my bed without having a shower,” you tell him before you grab your pajamas and head to the bathroom.
You have a quick shower and get done with all your evening business. Returning to your room you find Harry sitting on the floor, his back against the side of the bed as he is scrolling through his phone.
“Does mum know you’re staying over?” you ask him as you throw your used clothes into the hamper, moving around the room while feeling his eyes on you.
“Yeah. ‘S all good.”
“You need a towel?”
“Yes please,” he says pushing himself up from the floor.
“Clothes?” you ask with an arched brow. He just grins at you and it’s enough of an answer. “Here,” you give him the shirt and sweats he has left at yours quite some time ago, along with a clean towel.
“Thanks,” he smirks before leaving to occupy the bathroom.
He doesn’t take long in there, you’re lying in bed already when he returns, smelling like your shower gel, strawberry and melon.
He throws his clothes to the chair in the corner and then lies beside you on the bed. You scoot over to the wall to give him space, but he is quick to bring you closer to him once he has made himself comfortable. You lay your head on his shoulder as you are both scrolling through your phones.
When you had enough, you throw yours to the nightstand, and stay cuddled up to his side.
“Do you remember the last time I slept here?” he asks tossing his phone to the nightstand and bringing his arms around you.
“Mm, was it at my twentieth birthday?”
“Yeah. You were so wasted,” he chuckles and you smirk to yourself
“But you took good care of me.”
“I did. You were so cute, rambling about how much you love me when I took you home from the pub.”
You bite into your bottom lip. You still remember that night vividly. Your birthday party had gone a little wild and you had gotten drunker than you intended to. Luckily, he was there to bring your home and he stayed in the bathroom with you as you threw up everything you ate and drank that evening. Then he made you take a shower, got you fresh clothes out and helped you get into bed. He slept next to you that night, holding you in his arms, gently caressing your back and upper arm as you fell into your drunken slumber. In the morning you told yourself he just did what any other friend would do, helping you out when you were clearly knocked out, but he made you breakfast in the morning since your mum was working all night and morning and he stayed over later the afternoon to make sure you were alright.
What you told him in your drunken state about loving him, it wasn’t just your friendly side, it was your drunken self coming clear to him, telling him that you are in love with him, but he didn’t take it seriously and you were too ashamed and awkward to even bring it up to him after that, so it was all forgotten very soon.
Following that you planned on telling him how you feel, several times. You even wrote a little speech you planned to give him when the time comes, but you couldn’t do it. The fear of losing him if he doesn’t feel the same was stronger than you expected and every time you had the chance to come clear, you chickened out. The thought of losing him as a friend is way worse than having to push your feelings down... forever. You just can’t imagine your life without Harry in it and you can’t risk losing him.
The two of you talk for quite a while, laughing about the good old times, until you both fall asleep. Sometime in the middle of the night you wake up and feel Harry wrapped around you, his head lying on your chest as he is snoring softly. He truly is like a big baby, an arm thrown over your stomach, his legs tangled with yours. Good Lord, how amazing it feels to have him so close to you!
Reaching up you tangle your fingers through his hair gently so he doesn’t wake up, his soft curls glide between your fingers easily and lifting your head you kiss the top of his head before letting yourself drift back to sleep.
When you open your eyes the next time the situation is the opposite, you are the one cuddled up to Harry’s side who is scrolling through his phone with one hand, keeping the other one on your arm.
“Mornin’, sleepy head,” he chuckles softly when he sees you awake.
“Mmm, what time is it?” you ask letting your head rest on his chest a little longer.
“Quarter to nine. You can sleep a little more if you want, it’s not that late.”
“No, I promised mum I’d help her wrap gifts,” you sigh rolling over to your stomach as you push yourself up to your elbows to look at him. “Love the double chin you got going there,” you tease him sleepily and he just smirks.
“Yea? Quite cute, right? Worked a lot on it,” he jokes running his finger over it before letting out a chuckle. “Ready for our battle today?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be. You are going down this year, Styles,” you tell him pushing yourself up into a sitting position. Harry only pushes himself further on the bed enough to rest his head against the headboard.
“Oh really? I wouldn’t be that sure about tha’,” he warns you, but you are feeling pretty confident about your performance this year. There’s no way he can top it.
“We’ll see. Alright, I need a coffee. Want something for breakfast?” you ask him crawling out of the bed.
“Yeah, that would be nice.”
Your mum is already in the kitchen, sipping on her morning coffee while reading the paper. She doesn’t find it even a bit weird that Harry spent the night at yours, it’s been quite the usual for you. Harry helps you make eggs and bacon and the three of you eat together, having a lovely time and you genuinely feel like it’s just like in the good old times when you were still living home and Harry wasn’t Harry Styles, but the boy from across the street.
He goes home after breakfast to help his own mum with the cooking for tonight’s dinner and you don’t do much for the rest of the day, just spend time with your mum, watch movies and relax. It’s nice to unwind after such a busy year behind you.
Not long before five you go to take a shower and get ready to head over to the Styles’ and you pack everything you’ll need for the evening: gifts, ugly sweater, accessories. Harry is going down this year for sure.
It’s a little past six when you and your mum walk across the street, Anne’s Christmas lights are putting the little town house into the spirit for sure. You don’t even ring the bell, just walk straight in, like you always do. The Christmas tree stands tall in their living room and the table is already nicely set. Gemma and Michal are snuggled up on the couch while Harry is helping Anne in the kitchen with the finishing touches.
“I’m rooting for you this year,” Gemma winks at you when you set down your bag in the corner that has everything you’ll need for your performance.
“He’s gonna lose this round,” you smirk proudly, very sure in yourself.
Harry greets you with a bright smile and a tight hug when he walks into the living room, as if you didn’t just see each other a few hours earlier.
When the food is ready you all sit down to eat, and though you’re trying your best to focus on the conversation, you’re getting excited about tonight’s karaoke battle.
“Anxious much?” Harry asks you quietly.
“Why are you asking?”
He doesn’t answer, just places a hand to your thigh stopping it from shaking, making you realize you’ve been probably bouncing it all along. He smirks at you as you just roll your eyes at him.
“’S okay, you can handle one more year of losing,” he teases you and you give him an arched eyebrow.
“Don’t be so full of yourself, Harry,” you warn him, but he just squeezes your thigh again before bringing his hands back up to the table, leaving you a little breathless with his touch.
You all help clean up the table after dinner and when it’s done, you gather in the living room to open gifts.
When Harry’s career launched, the first few years you felt anxious about gifting him, because you felt like you couldn’t give him enough. He had all the money and bought everything he needed for himself, there wasn’t much you could give him. But when one time, you admitted to him this struggle of yours he assured you that it doesn’t matter what you give him, it’ll always be precious to him.
“You thought about me, you took the time to buy something for me, and that’s more than enough, Y/N,” he told you and though it took you time, but you got used to it. Especially when you saw the same excitement in his eyes every time you gifted something to him, you slowly but surely realized he wasn’t expecting a Gucci suit, but a thoughtful gesture.
Gathering in the living room you open the presents one by one and just as always, everyone was quite creative with the gifts. You can’t help but still feel a little anxious when Harry grabs his gift from you. Giving you an excited look he unties the little bow on the top and tears the wrapping paper off.
“Y/N!” he breathes out, eyes softening as he pulls the knitted cardigan out of the box.
“I always saw you wearing all sorts of cardigans and so I finally had a reason to learn how to knit, so I thought I would make one for you,” you ramble as he holds up the baby blue cardigan that has little daisies all over the front. It took you an entire week to just make the daisies, you worked on the whole cardigan for more than two months, usually in the middle of the night, staying up until unholy hours to finish in time.
But Harry’s smile is worth it all, he is beaming, clearly so in love with what you made him, so you breathe out relieved. He then puts it aside and wraps his arms around you pulling you into the tightest hug.
“Thank you, I love it so much,” he mumbles and kisses your temple and you breathe in his sweet scent, burying yourself in his embrace, hugging his waist.
When you part, Harry reaches for a box from under the tree and hands it to you, a nervous smile tugging on his lips. You can tell he wrapped the gift himself, the silver wrapping paper is a little uneven, but the huge rainbow colored bow on the top is the perfect touch that makes it like a piece of him.
You carefully tear the paper off, peeking inside you just see a plain box that doesn’t give much away. Glancing up at Harry you see how he is anxiously biting his bottom lip, even though you’d be happy with a gift as small as a candle. It’s the thought that counts.
“I-I wasn’t sure if this was the one you mentioned to me, so I hope it’s gonna be alright,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on your hands as they open the box, while you try to think back what you have told him about that caught his attention, but you just can’t recall what you wanted to get so badly you told Harry about it.
As you open the box you don’t process what it is immediately, the plastic wrapper making it hard to figure it out, but when you carefully pull out the object, you gasp in surprise.
“Harry!” you breathe out as you pull off the plastic of the old, vintage polaroid camera. It’s not one of these new types you can buy in stores easily, this is a classic, must have quite a history behind it.
Now you vaguely remember talking about longing for an oldschool, vintage camera, but it was months ago and you’ve forgotten about the whole thing since these devices cost a fortune because there aren’t many left from them. But now there’s one in your hands, because Harry not only listened to you, but he remembered and went out of his way to find you one in amazing condition.
“This must have cost a fortune!” you huff, your heart pounding in your chest, though you already know it doesn’t matter to him.
“This face is worth every penny,” he smiles at you softly before you throw yourself at him for another round of hugging. This man surely knows how to have you wrapped around his fingers.
The two of you sit on the floor as you figure out how to make the camera work, Harry bought everything needed, so you have a few packs of films as well. When it’s all done you bring it up to your face and aim it at Harry. It takes him a moment to realize that you’re about to snap your first photo and he tries to snatch the camera away, but it’s too late, the flash goes off and the device pushes out the undeveloped picture.
“You wasted your first snap on me?” he protests rubbing his eyes after the flash blinded him for a little.
“It’s not a waste,” you tell him as you patiently wait for the picture to finally appear.
Slowly, the colors start to show and in a couple of minutes Harry’s face appears, his hand reaching in the direction of the camera, looking out of focus, only his face appearing clearly. He looks so delicate, his eyes dazzling as a soft smile plays on his lips. This moment now will live forever not just in your mind, but on this photo.
 Harry goes out with his karaoke performance this year for sure and you’d be actually anxious about him winning if only you didn’t have the absolutely best performance right in your pocket.
His sweater this year features some really ugly looking penguins and a horroristic reindeer on the back, it’s really ugly and you can’t even imagine who thought it would be fine to make it and then sell it. His choice of music is also excellent, he has a great eye for songs you’d never imagine him perform and then shock everyone with it. This year, he chose Rude Boy by none other than Rihanna, and it’s fantastic, no one can make it through the song without crying. Harry makes sure to put on his best show, even dancing and twerking unapologetically, trying everything to win the battle and you are amazed by his effort. Above all the fun and jokes, he nails the song, that’s undeniable. It always baffles you how he can just slay any and all genres, even the ones that stand a million miles away from his style.
When the song is over, you all cheer for him, because he truly deserves it. He grins down at you in victory, but you just give him a challenging smirk.
“You can just give up now, if you want,” he teases you as you stand up from the couch and the two of you trade places.
“Oh, I think you should be the one to worry about losing,” you warn him grabbing your bag. Stepping to Gemma you whisper into her ear, instructing her to put on your song when you call out from the bathroom, since you are planning on do a grandiose entrance. When she hears what song you’ll be singing she gasps.
“Oh my fucking God, no way!” he looks at your with wide eyes.
“What? What is it?” Harry asks, dying to know what you just told his sister, but you shake your head at him.
“Patience,” you tell him before locking yourself up in the bathroom.
This year, you didn’t find the sweater, the sweater found you. On one of your thrift tours, you were digging up a huge pile of clothes when you came right across it and you knew what you needed to do.
Putting on the sweater you fix up your hair quickly before putting on your party glasses, the one that lights up if you switch it on. You take one last look at yourself in the mirror and smirk at your reflection knowing well you’ll have everyone dead when you walk out.
“Gemma! You can start it!” you call out with your hand on the doorknob, waiting to hear the music. Gemma quickly starts in and you haven’t even stepped out, you can hear a round of gasps.
Best Song Ever blasts through the speakers and you walk out trying your best to imitate a younger version of Harry, wearing the absolute ugliest Christmas sweater ever, that has the faces of One Direction all over it, filling up every inch of the fabric, and all of them have poorly photoshopped Santa hats on, it’s just literal trash and ridiculously perfect for the battle.
You grab the mic and start singing as everyone screams in the room. You jump, sing and even do the dance moves the boys do in the original music video, and when you look at Harry you see him staring at you in disbelief and total defeat. Everyone knows you won, nothing can top this performance ever and you could burst from the sweet feeling of victory.
By the end of the song everyone is up on their feet dancing and singing with you, a mini party forming in the middle of the living room and you all scream the last lines as the song comes to its end.
“I think we don’t even need to vote this time,” you say when the music stops, everyone screaming in agreement while Harry stares down at you, trying to hide his growing smirk.
“Where did you even find this?” he asks chuckling as he takes a better look at the sweater.
“At a thrift store, it called out my name, knew it’d be perfect.”
“It really is ugly, if I’m being honest,” he sighs, his eyes meeting yours again. “And the song… I accept defeat, you earned this victory, Y/N,” he tells you bowing and admitting your victory.
 Later that night everyone is so keen on watching Holiday, you agree to stay even though you feel your eyelids heavily weighing down, threatening to close with each passing moment. You let your head rest on Harry’s shoulder and he presses his cheek against the crown of your head.
It’s not a surprise you fall asleep halfway into the movie, but what you weren’t expecting is to wake up and find yourself not on the couch anymore, but in Harry’s bed. It’s dark, only the moon is shining through his windows and as you turn to the right you see that he is sleeping peacefully next to you on his back, one arm spread next to him, hand hanging from the edge, the other one resting on his stomach, rising and falling in a slow rhythm.
Squinting your eyes you look at the digital clock on his dresser, it reads 3:23 am so you’ve been asleep for quite a few hours now. You don’t even remember him bringing you up here, but you’re definitely not mad that he didn’t bring you home, just up to his room.
Rolling to your side you give yourself a moment to adorn his beauty without fearing he would catch your wandering eyes. Everything seems so perfect about him, the line of his nose, his cupid’s bow that delicately rolls into her lips. The crease between his eyebrows, his soft skin on his cheeks, down his neck that runs into his broad shoulders and inked, strong arms. You truly think there’s no man that could compare to him and you are lucky enough to live your life so close to him, be able to touch him, hear his voice whenever you miss him, see his smile and share a connection with him.
It’s so silly, but you think of him as your personal ray of sunshine in your life. Just the smallest things about him can brighten your worst day, he’ll always have a special place in your heart, no matter where life takes the two of you.
Watching him sleeping you allow yourself to break free from your doubts and fears and scooting closer you shyly curl up to his side, your head resting on his shoulder, but you can’t even make yourself comfortable before you feel him moving under you.
Sucking on your breath you think he’ll push you away, not wanting you so close, but instead, he pulls his arm from under you, curling around your frame as he pulls you tight to him, almost making you lie on top of him. Your whole body is pressed against him and you mingle a leg between his long ones under the soft sheets. You let out a long huff at the warm touch of his body against your skin, completely lost in him.
“You alright?” he mumbles in his sleep laced voice, his eyes remain closed.
“Yeah. Is this okay?” you nervously ask as you lay your hand flat on his stomach. He brings his hand that was hanging from the bed on his other side and covers yours, as he squeezes you tight to his side.
“’M all yours,” he breathes out, his words sending a shiver down your spine. You’re sure he didn’t mean it like that, but it warmed your heart to hear it from him and you let your mind play with the thought that there was more behind his words than a friendly manner.
Nuzzling your head into his chest you close your eyes and listening to his steady heartbeat you let yourself fall back asleep.
 Your morning is filled with coffee, pancakes, laughter and great company. Harry doesn’t let you leave without having breakfast with them, so you sit with the Styles family and laugh about the craziest stories from your teenage years.
“Remember when we tried to run away?” Harry grins at you, his red mug that had white polka dots all over it in his hands as he eyes you.
“Oh, how could I forget that?” you huff and Gemma turns to you with surprise in her eyes.
“Wait, I didn’t know about that!”
“Because we didn’t get too far,” Harry laughs. “We were, what, like fifteen?”
“Yeah, it was a few weeks after my fifteenth birthday,” you nod smiling.
“I had a fight with mum about God knows what, then stormed over to Y/N’s and talked her into running away. So we packed our backpacks and left.”
“Where did you go?” Michal asks with an amused grin as he listens to the story.
“We didn’t want to go into town, running into anyone we know, so we thought we would just go straight out to the meadow that’s there,” Harry says gesturing towards the window. The edge of the town is not so war, and a huge meadow lies there, a little stream running across it. “We walked for quite long, but then it started to get dark and we had nowhere to go, so we just ended up coming back home. No one even noticed we were gone, they thought we just went out to bike or something,” he finishes laughing.
“You knew about this?” Gemma asks Anne.
“Yeah, he came clear the next day, thinking he would piss me off with it, but I didn’t care, he came back for dinner, so it was alright,” Anne explains laughing.
It’s been so long since it happened, but I still remember it vividly, only that it was a more dramatic memory back then, now I can only laugh at it.
“We should go for a walk today,” Harry prompts to you.
“Wanna run away again?” you tease him.
“Always,” he chuckles.
You help cleaning up and agree with Harry to meet outside in an hour to take a walk to the meadow. Going home you take a shower and wash the dishes your mum left in the sink when she left for her morning shift. You put on a pair of boyfriend jeans, a warm sweater and your jacket with your trusty boots and you walk out the house right when Harry steps out as well. He grins in your way as the two of you meet in the middle of the street. He holds his arm out for you.
“M’ lady?” he smirks as you link your arm with his and the two of you head out for your little walk. It’s a gloomy day, might rain later as well, but it’s dry so far, so you’re just hoping to get home before it starts raining. Your runaway attempt wasn’t the only time the two of you came out here, it was kind of your place when you felt like having a break from everyone else. You biked out here, brought your favorite snacks and just ran around, enjoying the stillness.
However it also holds a bitter memory as well.
A little further down among the trees happened Harry’s first kiss and you witnessed it, feeling your heart break to a million pieces when you saw him lock lips with someone who wasn’t you.
Debby Hamilton was a friend of yours in sixth grade, you’d say, your only friend beside Harry and the three of you often hung out together around that time. Debby was a delight, you always desired to be more like her, boys liked her and she knew it damn well, but it didn’t make her cocky and egoistic. You always thought Harry had a crush on her, why would have he? They kind of looked cute together.
It was a Friday afternoon and Harry asked if you wanted to come out and listen to his new cassette he got for his old Walkman he refused to get rid of as technology was evolving. You figured he’d want Debby there as well so you invited her along, but didn’t tell Harry. He never made a move on Debby and you thought he was just looking for the right time.
That afternoon, you were supposed to meet them out there at five, but you didn’t leave until half past five and it takes about twenty minutes to get out there. Though you gave them the alone time technically, it still startled you when you found them under one of the oak trees, Debby leaning her back against the tree as Harry stood in front of her. She was smiling up at him sweetly, saying something to him and you were just about to call out for them and apologize for being late when Harry ducked his head and kissed Debby right in front of your eyes.
That was your first and probably worst heartbreak and you were only twelve. You felt betrayed, hopeless and naïve to think Harry would ever have a thing for you when there were girls like Debby. You left without letting them know you were there. When Harry asked you later why you didn’t come you told him you felt sick to your stomach, which wasn’t a total lie, you had quite the nausea after seeing Harry with Debby, but he didn’t have to know all the details.
He later told you about kissing Debby and you pretended like you didn’t know about it. However they never dated and not long after their kiss Debby drifted away from the two of you. Not that you minded, you had a bitter feeling every time you had to look at her after that, jealousy raging in your chest knowing that she got Harry’s first kiss.
He didn’t bring it up after and you weren’t keen on talking about it, but you still know which tree they were standing under and now as you near the area you see that it still stands tall near the tiny stream.
Peeking up at Harry you see that his eyes are focused on the same tree, but then he catches you looking.
“Memories?” you innocently ask, feeling your chest tightening. You don’t even know why you asked. It’s been over a decade since that kiss, you are both adults, but you still can’t help the sadness that washes over you at just the thought, why would you want to get him talk about it now?
“’S just… that’s the tree I kissed Debby when I was twelve,” he mumbles with a shrug. Biting into your bottom lip you look at the old oak tree nodding your head and before you could stop yourself, you speak up.
“I know.”
“What? How would you? I never told you,” Harry asks stopping, a puzzled look pulling on his face.
“Well I… It doesn’t matter,” you sigh, regretting ever opening your mouth.
“It does. Tell me!” he pleads standing in front of you.
“I know it, because… I was here.”
“You what?”
“I came, I was just very late. And when I arrived you two were standing there and I saw you kiss. I thought I shouldn’t interrupt whatever was happening so I went home and let you two be,” you explain, changing it up a little bit.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why is it important that I saw it? It doesn’t change anything, right?” you ask with a smile that you intended to look innocent, but deep down it’s filled with pain.
Harry opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, but then remains silent and you are done talking about it, so you just quietly keep walking, Harry catching up with you a few moments later.
It’s awfully quiet after your revelation, it seems like Harry is deep in his thoughts and though you’re dying to know what’s occupying his bright thoughts, you’re kind of afraid you’d hear something you didn’t want to.
The two of you soon head back home and slowly, but you forget about the whole Debby thing. Harry starts talking again, but he looks a little keyed up still when you reach your street.
“Wanna come over later?” you ask standing on the pavement in front of your house, it’s just an innocent question. Harry nods his head.
“Sure. Is your mum working?” he asks glancing at the house, though he knows she is, the car is not on the driveway.
“Yeah. She’ll be home around six.”
He nods again and you want to ask if he is alright, but you decide not to. You share a quick hug before he heads over to his home and you do the same. The house waits for you in silence and when the door clicks behind you, it weighs down on you heavier than you were expecting. You hang your jacket, kick your boots off and throw yourself to the couch, covering your eyes with your arm as you huff out in frustration. You feel silly for getting upset about such a small thing even after so much time, but you just can’t help it.
You barely realize the sound of the front door opening, taking your arm off your eyes you see Harry walk in, eyebrows furrowed, a worried look on his handsome face.
“Harry—“ “I was waiting for you that day,” he simply says as you sit up with wide eyes, confused about what he is really talking about.
“What?”
“That day, we agreed to meet out there to listen to my new Stevie Wonder cassette, but you didn’t show up, Debby did even though I didn’t invite her out there.”
“Well, I did, thought you wanted her there too,” you explain, startled by the situation.
“I would have invited her if I wanted her to be there, but I wanted to be with you. Only you.”
“I-I’m sorry?” you breathe out, not seeing where he is going with it.
“Y/N, you don’t understand,” he huffs and he is right. You don’t. “I wanted to meet you, but you never came, or at least I thought. Then Debby showed up, I was frustrated that you weren’t there and she was being all nice, telling me how cute I looked when I was worried and it all just happened so fast and… I didn’t even want to kiss her.” He looks properly upset telling you the story and he takes a deep breath before his eyes meet yours with a hard stare. “I wanted to be with you,” he repeats.
“Harry, I’m sorry, I didn’t—“
He shakes his hair, not even letting you finish, because he knows what you wanted to say and that you still don’t understand the meaning behind his words.
“Y/N, I wanted to kiss you,” he then finally says and you suck on your breath as he continues. “Well, not right then and there, but I’ve been meaning to kiss you, I just didn’t know when. I thought that if we have a moment that afternoon I’d do it, but you never came and I was mad and disappointed. I hated myself for kissing Debby, because I didn’t really want to, it just… happened. I wanted to tell you, and I intended to do it when I told you we kissed, but you acted so happy, I figured you didn’t feel the same way about me as I did for you. So I didn’t tell you the rest, but…” He sighs in defeat, looking for words, but he ran out.
“Why are you telling this to me now?” you ask a little out of breath, your head feeling heavy at the new information you just heard.
“Why didn’t you tell me you saw us and why did you go home without a word?” he asks ignoring your question.
“I… don’t—“
“Don’t try to lie.”
Gulping hard you lick your dried lips as you stare back at him.
“Because I was… jealous.” Your voice comes out only as a whisper. Harry’s lips part as he takes two steps closer to you.
“You had feelings for me?” he asks and you just nod your head, not trusting yourself with your voice. “Do you still have feelings for me?”
“I do,” you whisper your answer and Harry lets out a sharp breath as he leaps across the room in your way. You jump to your feet, thinking that he’ll lash out on your for keeping it a secret and you open your mouth to explain yourself, but you never get to speak up because as Harry reaches you, one hand snaps to the back of your neck, the other one to your waist, yanking you against him as his lips crash to yours.
You gasp in surprise, but it doesn’t take long to kiss him back, your numb mind blindly reacting to his sudden action. Your hands snake up to the back of his neck as you pull him closer, returning his hungry kisses. His soft lips feel so smooth and warm against yours and when his tongue runs along your bottom lip you whimper letting your tongues meet in the middle.
He is intoxicating and it doesn’t help that your adrenaline level is up in the sky, you’ve fantasized about it way too many times, and now that it’s happening your body is burning in flames. He kisses you all over and over again, his body pressing against yours hard and when he even leans in making you lean back, you lose balance and the two of you fall to the couch, both of you gasping as you are forced to part your lips.
“Fuck,” you chuckle as Harry is basically lying on you, holding himself up on his arms, but you feel him everywhere.
“’M sorry, I got a little carried away, but I’ve been dying to do this since forever,” he admits chuckling as he lifts his head and looks down at you with those bright green eyes of his.
“Really?” you breathe out, only slowly processing what’s really just happened.
“Y/N, I’ve been in love with you since I first saw you hiding behind your mum.”
“Idiot, you were just a kid, you weren’t in love,” you chuckle, running up your hands to the back of his neck, your fingers playing with the soft curls. He smirks and nuzzles his nose against yours.
“Oh, I was, I just didn’t know it yet.” Leaning down he pecks your lips softly. “I’ve been meaning to tell you so many times, but I didn’t want it to ruin our friendship. Though I was growing impatient these last few years.”
“Yeah?” you chuckle.
“You can’t imagine,” he huffs shaking his head. I almost kissed you the other day in the kitchen, but Gemma completely ruined the moment.”
“I’m sorry I ran away, I was just—“ “No need to apologize. I guess it all played out well after all, right?” he smirks and you can’t help but chuckle.
“I guess,” you breathe out and the smile slowly fades from your lips. “And now what?” you ask quietly, staring up at him.
“Now… We’ll try to make things work. Test the waters. I’m very serious about this, Y/N,” he tells you. “I’ve been waiting for this my whole life so I’m not gonna let go of you now.”
“You have no idea how happy this is making me,” you choke out feeling the tears forming in your eyes.
“Oh Love, please don’t cry,” he begs and leaning down he kisses your tears away. “I’m right here, with you. Sorry it took me so long you get here, but I’m here now.”
“I know,” you huff blinking away the tears as you pull him down and press your lips to his. “I love you, Harry,” you whisper against his perfect lips. You feel him exhale sharply as he keeps kissing you before he lifts his head so your eyes meet again.
“I’ve always loved you.”
 Thank you for reading, let me know what you thought about it!
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whump-town · 3 years ago
Text
In With The New, Out With The Old
Hotch packing Jack up for college
None of it feels real.
For two years after he and Haley divorced he lived in an apartment of boxes. It was some sort of punishment he created for himself while also creating a dissonance he could be lost in -- that he didn’t need to unpack just in case. He had his suits in the closet, his work would not take the fall for his personal life’s failings. The coffee maker sat on the counter, one of the only appliances hooked into a light socket. The necessities followed -- two mugs for coffee, a glass tumbler for the whiskey sitting on the counter, and one plate for when he ordered take-out he couldn’t just eat out of the box.
It had taken him months to buy a mattress, he was perfectly miserable sleeping on the couch. He had only taken Jack to the apartment once, needing to switch into more park-appropriate clothing. Between them, he and Haley agreed that the best thing for Jack was consistency so he would spend all day with Hotch but he would always go home to Haley. He knew this could be used against him in court, Haley could take Jack from his so easily it terrified him but he also knew he’d let her. He was more powerful, he had more strings to pull and more people on his side but the thought of getting on the stand and having his friends call her a bad mother made him feel even worse. So he knew that if it came down to it, he would let Haley have Jack rather put either of them that sort of grueling case.
This was a shared thought between them. Both are aware of the other’s power over the other. Neither will act on their own.
He had only bought a mattress because of New York. Limping home he’d sunk down into his old faithful couch only to wake up the next morning with achingly stiff sutures in his leg and his face stuck to a throw pillow, the blood drying like glue. He had to call Emily and Derek that afternoon. Unable to drive himself with his concussion and consequential blurred vision Emily had come over to pick him up, never said a word about what he’d been sleeping on in the months before. Neither did Derek when Hotch got too dizzy coming up the stairs, the stitches in his leg bleeding through his jeans and so pale Emily had to hold him upright to get him to the bench in the lobby. He was left there, listening to Derek and Emily bicker their way into forcing the mattress into the apartment through the pounding sound of blood rushing in his ears.
That was years ago and yet they’ve created its mirror image once again in his living room.
All of Jack’s belongings in boxes spread out in every room of the house. Packing up to leave.
“Art?” Emily mumbles disapprovingly. She’s knelt down in front of Jack’s bookshelf, dismantling the organized shelves to pack them into boxes. It’s a different method than the one that Hotch uses. Jack has them categorized by author and general theme and as Emily takes down all the books she’s gotten him about cults and psychology and crime she can’t help but feel a little cheated. Jack knows all about crime. He’s had Macdonald’s Triad memorized since he was five -- could give that method of thought its critical analysis as not a precursor to antisocial or serial killer behavior but more as a demonstration of a child’s poor coping skills or as the indicator of a dysfunctional home environment. He’s a well of information about cults, knows the “B.I.T.E.” system.
And he’s throwing all that away because Hotch took him to too many museums as a child?
Jack doesn’t say anything when he hears her grumble about art again, he’s had this conversation so many times. He knows she’s not really mad and she’s not even that irked but she needs to do something with the feelings she has about him leaving and this is just the best way she’s come up with. Better than crying -- which she’s also done far too much of.
“I think art is a great idea, kid.” Derek teases his hair as he passes, sweaty and hot from dragging Jack’s belongings around the place.
Hotch works slowly where he’s been assigned. They all work around him. He’s more freelance than the others. His job is to do what he can and leave the rest for someone else. Today his physical capabilities are not in the way. Derek does all the heavy lifting that Hotch knows is supposed to be assigned to him, it’s his duty as the father of the freshman moving away. He finds himself in the living room, one of Haley’s old photo albums on his lap. Thumbing pictures he can remember going with Haley to print. Pictures he can remember being in. Ones that he took.
He’s crying again.
Emily comes out with a box of books on her hip, having figured out the perfect ratio of books to box to prevent them from falling out the bottom. She sees Hotch wiping his face with a tissue, hiding away but unable to fully pull away right now. The hurt raw. The fear is too much.
The second that Hotch got the chance he left home and never came back. Over the years he returned to his hometown only when he had to -- when Haley’s parents couldn’t be convinced to come to see them. It didn’t matter how down bad he was, Hotch did it on his own. When his mother died when he was thirty he’d talked to her only once since moving out. Then it had only been for the benefit of Sean, who he had driven all the back to Virginia to collect and drove to college.
He fears Jack will do the same and it terrifies him in so many ways.
His own death will come quickly, he knows he’s only made it this long because he’s not alone. Without Jack, there’s no reason to keep going on, not with the way his body aches from years of abuse and neglect. More than that, he knows what growing up that fast did to him. As a child, the things that happen to you are out of your control. Children are sponges, not yet able to take control and mold themselves. So their reactions to abuse and neglect and even just trivial everyday things are but a reaction they are taught to form or never corrected on. But Hotch never corrected his behaviors as a young adult. He couldn’t bring himself to trust anyone, not at twenty, or thirty, and still at forty.
He spent his twentieth birthday on the side of the highway in a broken down car freezing his ass off with negative twenty-three cents in his bank account. No one to call because he couldn’t bring himself to believe anyone would come -- but Haley would have, or Jessica, or the sociology professor who gave him his number for emergencies or “just anything you can think of, just in case you need me”.
He doesn’t wish anything like that on Jack.
The cycle of self-destruction and fear and loathing.
But Jack knows how to form healthy relationships with people. He’s more worried about Hotch.
The car ride is nearly silent.
Jack cranks his window down and lays his head on the seal, lets the wind blow his hair back from his skin, and closes his eyes. There’s no air conditioning but it’s not that bad. The air has cooled off, the thunderstorms taking over the area sucking the humidity from the air as the wind picks up. It’ll get bad again in a day or so but today is nice and Jack wants to enjoy it. To sit contently with his dad and just try to soak it in before he’s thrown into the world of college.
Emily had promised him several times she’d make sure that Hotch didn’t turn himself into a hermit. Jack has grown up watching those two spar off so he knows she’s perfectly capable of getting Hotch out of the house. More than that, Jack knows he’s just going to miss his dad.
“Please--” Jack’s in the middle of trying to reorganize his stuff when he sees Hotch come in with one of the big boxes, one of the heavy ones. “Dad!” Jack takes it from him, not listening to Hotch’s complaint about being able to carry a few boxes. That he won’t break that easily. “Please, just leave the heavy stuff to Emily and Derek. Help me put my clothes away? Please?”
He nearly cries again folding Jack’s t-shirts away. Once upon a time, Jack’s shirts were about the size of his hand. Tiny delicate little things about the size of rags. Now he’s wearing the same size as Hotch, a grown man standing there racing to beat Emily to the heavy stuff because he doesn’t want her lifting it all either.
“Well,” Derek announces, setting the minifridge down, “that’s the last of it.”
Emily offers Hotch her hand and he takes it, grunting as he moves his body back upright.
“Well,” he declares, looking around the room. “We’ll leave you to it. Let you get everything sorted out how you like.” Hotch smiles and Emily and Derek step in to take their hugs, imparting half-wise ideas and a no-questions-asked ride home from anywhere.
“I love you,” Hotch says, he’s quick because he knows he can’t keep his composure if he stays here for too much longer. “I’ll send you care packages, you’ll just have to text me if you think of something I don’t send.”
Jack nods, pretending to make himself busy putting away the rest of his clothes. Trying to downplay his own feelings.
“Ok.”
Hotch nods and they leave, he doesn’t want to make a scene. They’ve hugged and Jack needs to unpack. He’s done. He’s only two doors away when he hears Jack’s door gets thrown open.
“Dad!” Hotch turns and stumbles, an armful of the little boy who was once the size of his forearm. He squeezes Jack tight, laughing through his tears when Jack holds on. “I love you too.”
Hotch holds him for a solid minute, just balanced there with his hand on the back of Jack’s head. “Alright,” he whispers. He sniffles a little, smiling as he cups Jack’s cheek wiping away a tear with his thumb. “I’m just a phone call away, okay? Any time of the night, you know where I am. You’ll be fine. You’re going to make mistakes and you’re going to fail tests and cry over boys and drink too much but you’ll be okay. And-- And if you’re not…”
Jack nods, smiling as he says, “I’ll call Emily.”
Hotch smirks, “well.. After a certain hour, yeah I suppose you’ll have to but yeah. Just call, okay?”
“I’ll call.”
Hotch nods and he has to force himself to let go and walk away. To let Jack do this.
They’re halfway down the hall, far enough away now that Jack won’t see or hear when Hotch starts to cry. He forces himself to keep going. Not to look back. Emily takes his hand, squeezes his fingers and he looks over at her tears in his eyes, and tries to smile.
Emily drives his truck home, she plans on feeding him chocolate and ice cream, and wine this afternoon to improve his mood. He gets a text and he smirks, he actually laughs.
“Let me know when you get home, old man. Tell Emily not to keep you out too late.”
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taetaespeaches · 4 years ago
Text
“I thought you left.”
yoongi x reader (or oc) genre: angst; fluff; light smut word count: 1.8K
a/n: well, here is the start of the angst. It’s not like super angsty yet, but it’s introducing it. This includes multiple different points of time, but it takes place after  “Why would you have the condoms clear across the room from the bed?” Also, this is inspired by Taylor Swift’s “august” from her album, folklore. WE’RE GETTING INTO THE FOLKLORE FICS AGAIN!! Thanks for reading, lovelies, I hope you all enjoy :))
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THE morning after your first time with Yoongi was easy and comfortable. You woke up facing him, his body curled adorably toward you, one of his arms resting underneath your neck, your hand positioned on his hip. You could tell from the sun shining through your window that it was late morning.
Gently, you traced your fingertip along his jaw, dragging it over his cheeks, and when he squeezed his eyes tighter together letting out a groan, you poked his cheek with a giggle.
“Morning, Min,” you whispered, his eyes slowly fluttering open at the sound of your voice. It took him a moment to focus on you but when he came into consciousness, a gummy grin overtook his face.
“Morning, Kid,” he spoke gently, his voice husky with slumber. “Sleep ok?”
You nodded, leaning toward him to catch his lips in a sweet kiss. He happily kissed you back, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you closer to him. Some light kissing and wandering hands led to another round, just as sweet and sensual as the previous night.
When you rolled on top of him, taking over as the main actor in the session, Yoongi’s hands gripped your hips tightly, small moans slipping out of his lips as he appreciated the move of your hips atop him. “Fuck, you’re unbelievable,” he breathed out, you giggling in response as you continued to grind down. He chuckled in disbelief before the laughing faded into another moan.
After you both finished, you rested on top of him, his hands drawing designs and writing out words on your lower back. He lounged around a while after, helping you cook a quaint breakfast for the both of you.
On his way out, he hugged you close and kissed your temple before telling you, “I’ll see you soon, Kid.”
You kissed him and mumbled against his lips, “I’ll be waiting.”
That was three weeks ago.
Since then, you’d seen each other three times, each time in his car in the parking lot behind the mall. There were two other dates that he had canceled out on, which hurt, especially considering you had been canceling plans or not making them at all with friends in hopes he’d call you to meet up, but it was all forgiven every time he’d reschedule.
During your dates, he’d put a movie on, and you’d watch a little, kiss a little more, cuddle a lot, and talk throughout. The second time, a particularly late date, Yoongi cut it short due to you both taking turns dozing off. Last night, the third parking lot date, ended in you inviting him back to your place.
The truth was, things felt different between you and Yoongi. As if you were holding onto something that might not be there. The first month of knowing Yoongi felt so promising. You both tried to prioritize each other, even if you only saw one another once every two weeks. But ever since that morning he left after your first time together, his texts and calls were less frequent and lacked consistency. You feared you were in that place in a relationship where you were deciding on whether to commit or to part ways. Was Yoongi pulling away?
With some convincing, saying he needed to get back to the dorm to pack for a quick work trip to Japan, Yoongi agreed to come to your place. Upon arrival, you split a bottle of wine and listened to music, talking about work, and a little about your families. You were sitting on the kitchen counter, Yoongi leaning on the counter next to you, supporting himself with his forearms as he occasionally traced patterns on your leg.
Finishing off his glass, and therefore the bottle, he leaned toward you, placing a kiss to the inside of your elbow. Standing up straighter and stepping closer to you, he continued kissing up your bicep, to your shoulder, and eventually your neck.
Slotting himself between the V of your legs, his hands found the sides of your face as he kissed you deeply. Maybe you shouldn’t have let him considering the shift in his behavior toward you since your first time being intimate, but you craved him. You yearned for the affection he gave you while twisted in bed sheets. And perhaps you were living for the hope of a life together, outside of parking lot dates once a week.
You didn’t even make it to the bed, using the condom you placed in your bag before you left to see Yoongi in his car. Yoongi bent you over the counter before you ended up on the floor, you on top as he leaned back against the refrigerator door. After having caught your breath, both of you in fits of giggles, you stumbled to the bedroom, leaving your clothing on the kitchen tiles, crashing on the mattress.
A hangover was already settling in as soon as you opened your eyes to the sun shining through your window. Feeling next to you to find the body of the man you were definitely falling for, you found an empty bed. Did he leave? Despite the dull pain in your head, you quickly crawled out of the blankets, wrapping yourself up in the bed sheets, and hurried through the apartment in search of Yoongi.
Your heart dropped into your stomach when you found the apartment empty, his clothing gone, yours neatly folded and sitting on the counter next to the coffee pot. Though there had been a noticeable change in Yoongi’s attention, you didn’t expect him to leave without a word. But then again, maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought.
Scanning your surroundings, you noticed the coffee pot had a fresh brew inside of it, still on. You didn’t think anything of it, going to grab a mug, until you saw a sticky note from the desk in your bedroom stuck to the top of the coffee maker.
Meet me on the deck, sleepy head.
Forgetting about the hot dark liquid, you hurried to your back deck, relief flooding your body when you saw Yoongi sitting on one of your patio chairs, leaning forward as he scrolled through his phone. Before opening the door, you watched him for a moment, the sun beating down on his hoodie-adorned back, your mind reminding you of how smooth and toned his back was when he was shirtless, walking around your bedroom naked. How it felt to hold onto his back as he moved in and out of you. Suddenly, you found yourself wanting to trace your name onto it, reminding him of your presence if he ever forgot.
Sliding the door open, he looked up instantly, his chin shivering from the cool air, his eyes wide before they softened, a small smile greeting you. “Morning, Kid.”
“I thought you left,” you said, stepping outside, tugging the sheet closer to you in response to the chilly outdoors.
His eyebrows pulled together as he shook his head, placing the phone on the table. “I wouldn’t do that.” He observed you for a moment before gesturing with a nod of his head for you to come to him. You easily walked over to him, standing above him as he looked up at you, a hint of sadness in his eyes. His hand found the back of your legs, tugging on you until you willingly sat in his lap. The small trembles of his shivers vibrated against your body.
“Why are you out here if you’re so cold?” You asked, Yoongi chuckling lightly against your arm.
“Don’t worry about me,” he whispered. “I’m just thinking.”
Placing a kiss to your temple, you leaned into the touch, almost embarrassingly eager to feel his affection. His skin was cold against yours, but you didn’t mind.
“I’ll be gone for five days,” he told you.
“Will you text?” You asked, smiling at the feeling of Yoongi’s lips curving up as they were still resting on the side of your face.
“I’ll even call,” he assured you in a whisper before leaving a peck to your hairline. “Did you get coffee?” You shook your head and he sighed. “I make coffee and you don’t even drink it,” he complained through a pout, you looking up to admire the position of his adorable lips.
Leaning forward, you grabbed his mug off the table. “What are you talking about? I’m drinking it now,” you smirked as you took a sip, only to be met with a scoff before his mouth formed into a gummy smile.
You took another drink as Yoongi’s arm wrapped tighter around you, holding you firmly against him. “You make leaving on these trips hard, you know that?”
“I’m sorry,” you responded, Yoongi scoffing with a smile.
“No, don’t say sorry. It’s not a bad thing,” he told you thoughtfully. You watched as his mind wandered through his hectic thoughts, sure he had a lot on his mind by the way his face scrunched up a bit. “Did you really think I would just leave after last night?” He asked, his eyes straight ahead, the steam coming from the mug of coffee obstructing your view of his face just slightly.
“I didn’t know,” you admitted. Without a word, he simply nodded, taking the mug from your hands to take a drink of his own before placing it back into your palms.
“It’s cold, let’s get inside.”
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Six days. Two texts.
The first day, Yoongi texted to tell you they were departing from the airport. You received the second text when they landed. A simple, “Made it safe.”
The remaining five days went by without a word, despite your good morning texts and “Missing you” texts. No calls. Just silence. If it all went according to schedule, he should be back at the dorm by now.
The disappointment overtook your emotions and you could no longer try to think of excuses for his distance. Memories drowned out all thoughts that weren’t of Yoongi. The sweet possibilities of your first meeting. Your nerves and excitement at your first date at the diner. The unplanned second date at the café and his need to see you. His first appearance at your apartment, and how he seemed to belong there. The thoughtfulness of your fourth date in the parking lot behind the mall. Finding yourselves tangled up in bedsheets on your fifth date, with so much ease and comfort. And then, the way things seemed to fade out, changing from colors only he made you see to a dull grey, all hope dissolving.
At the start, wanting was enough. Hope was enough. What once felt like you’d found the one, now felt like it was slipping away like that last bottle of wine you drank together. Looking back on the past two months, you realized, you weren’t losing him. He was never yours to lose.
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pinencurls · 4 years ago
Text
“I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”
Hiii so this is my entry to @stellarboystyles‘s three year anniversary fic challenge! I’ve been busy with getting ready for classes starting and balancing other stuff so I wrote it on and off for a week and a bit but I hope you all enjoy! Feedback is so so encouraged and appreciated <3 
Here’s my masterlist of some other stuff I’ve written x 
Enemies (more like friends but oops) to lovers, prompt 9 “I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”
14k+ :) Not read through sorry! pls let me know of any mistakes and I’ll correct them <3 (also i k n o w the title's bad but i couldn’t think of anything, pls feel free to leave any recs.)
- - - - 
It isn’t that I hate Harry. He just makes me feel...insecure. He’s never said or done anything directly but it’s hard to feel good about yourself when all your closest confidants seem to compare you to somebody else, somebody they so clearly hold higher above you. There wasn’t a single day I could meet a mutual friend of mine and Harry’s and not have them sing his praises, and apparently everyone was a mutual friend. I’ve known Julia and Theo for years, we all met in uni when they first started going out but it wasn’t until a year ago that I somehow ended up finding myself a regular within the friendship group they’d formed when they both went into the music and fashion industries. They had ties everywhere and after a pure coincidence of running into them and their circle at a pub, almost all my weekends were spent in various art galleries or new restaurants owned by somebody’s cousin or the guy they met last night at a Fleetwood Mac concert. 
I’d met Harry about five months into hanging out with the group. He’d known them a lot longer than I had, weaving his way into the little pockets of interesting people for years since the x factor. I was busy with work the first few times he was in town but after a while, Nick, the persistent party planner of the group who always managed to wrangle us together, insisted that I just had to meet him.                  . . . . . 
Eleanor’s house is huge and buzzing with hundreds of strangers. I cling to Julia and Theo’s side, Nick and Eleanor are nowhere in sight - most likely playing host or drinking too much chardonnay in another corner of the house. These four are the only people I can say I really know here, sure there are a few familiar faces on the dance floor, either from having met them at any of Eleanor's past elaborate parties or just because of they’re not so subtle fame. That’s another thing, all the people sipping wine and dancing around me are fairly...well known. Either just within the industry or to the general public too, they’d all gain fairly high status. It was a fluke really that I got on so well with Julia when we first met on a fashion course in uni. 
Julia had big goals, all of which she was on track to fulfil, that conflicted slightly with mine. Her goals consisted of runway show models clad in designer brands she might one day contribute to whereas mine were more...anti, that whole world. It took a few years to find a steady footing but eventually, I was proud of where I’d ended up: a comfortable little cubby in the fashion and sustainability columns of a handful of independent magazines. After a few nights out with Julia, I was pleasantly surprised to find her shared interests and solidarity in my work and ambitions of her own within the same ideology. But whilst that’s all well and good, I’m still very much the small indie journalist that slips through the cracks when it comes to small talk at these kinds of events. It became apparent pretty quickly that my latest articles on how fast fashion had begun its destruction of a liveable environment in developing countries weren’t as relevant or interesting to the people promoting Prada and Calvin Klein as the next met gala theme. 
“Do you want another drink?” Theo asks from beside me, pulling my focus from my scan of the room. 
“No thanks..I’m good.” I murmur, debating how long I have to stay before I can slip out and feel a little less awkward around all the people I have no clue how to talk to. “Think I’m gonna head off actually..”
“Look I know you hate networking, but this is just a chill get-together yeah?” Theo chuckles, squeezing my shoulder before taking another sip from his gin and tonic. “We’re in the same boat about these snooty things but tonight’s not like that, relax a bit will ya.” 
Theo works mostly with small-time music artists, producing debut albums and such so we share the same deep discomfort for the many events we often find ourselves at. It’s how we got close really, week after week we’d trail behind Julia as she strikes up conversations with Hollywood elite...and he always makes getting piss drunk in someone’s pool house exceptionally fun. 
Before I can further any excuses about getting home to start on the legitimate and ever-growing pile of work deadlines on my desk, a tall man in far too much Gucci to belong anywhere but in a room full of models and artists makes a beeline straight from the bar to our awkward party. 
“Harry!” Theo shouts, embracing the slightly tipsy man in a hug he reciprocates. 
“It’s been too long mate, how ‘ave you been?” Harry cheers, leaning back from the hug and grinning down at his friend. 
“I’ve been good - busy, enjoying the free bar as always.” Theo jokes, motioning between his and my matching G and T’s. Harry’s eyes wander up from the drink, realisation dawning on his face as he smiles again.
“Ah and you must be the famous Olivia,” He reaches his hand out to mine and shakes it lightly. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself, ‘m Harry, it’s good to finally meet you, love.”  
“Likewise.” I smile, trying to suppress the blush his words of endearment tease. I can’t deny the natural charm and charisma everyone always talks about now that it’s hitting me straight on. There’s something about the way he doesn’t hesitate to hold eye contact just that little bit longer that makes the room go still for just a second. He’d got it down to a T.
“Aww I see you two have finally met!” Nick interrupts. My hand falls from Harry’s grip as he’s welcomed into another hug. “About fucking time as well, been trying get this one to take a night off for weeks!”
“I literally came out with you last Thursday!” I counter, not missing the smirk setting on Harry’s face as he watches Nick and I’s back and forth. “And the Saturday before, come to think of it I’m always out with you Nicky.” 
“Not when Harry’s in town though n’ that’s a different kinda night.” Nick laughs, his beer sloshing slightly in his free hand as his other remains draped over Harry’s shoulders. 
That was maybe the first sign of my slight resentment for Harry. All night I wandered around with Theo hearing little bits of conversations, all surrounding the star of the party. I understood this wasn’t his doing, his humility was clear in every one of his bashful attempts to turn the conversation away from his growing achievements and onto literally anything else. He was, however, a self-proclaimed narcissist. Every time somebody would swoon over him and insist he stay the topic of conversation, a smirk tugged at his lips and stayed there as he consumed the endless and animated praise from almost all the party guests. 
I’d expected some of his qualities to be untrue, learning from the past never to believe blindly of someone’s pure character when you didn’t truly know them. Especially when they frequented the gossip columns. But it wasn’t him so much, he was true to his motto of kindness and courteous even as people fawned over him, it was more the attention that surrounded him. As the night went on it became clear what Nick meant even if he didn’t know it himself. A night out with Harry was different because everyone made sure to capitalize off how different he made them feel.
. . . . .
“Can I get you anything else M’am?” The young waitress asks as she clears up my empty mug and saucer. My eyes falter a little as they adjust from the blue light of my laptop I’ve been staring at for the last twenty minutes. 
“Um- oh please could I just get a refill?” I ask. 
“Sure thing - mint tea right?” She smiles, adjusting the mug in her hands to make a quick note. 
 “Yeah..s’perfect - thank you.” She’s gone before she hears my delayed gratitudes, definitely used to the throngs of bemused writers tapping away at their laptops for hours. 
I turn back to my open google doc. So far it’s written in two parts I have no idea how to connect and my senseless rereading hasn’t resulted in any legitimate progress in almost an hour. I’d accept the rut I’m stuck in and work on something else for the day if I didn’t only have the day. Last night had been filled with plans of settling in early and finishing the last two thousand words on an upcoming sustainable clothing brand. That all went out the window of course as my phone buzzed off the kitchen counter with Nick’s insistence of yet another night out to celebrate ending the work week - his was quite different to mine. It was easy to ignore the persistent beeping of my phone as new texts and call notifications popped up every three minutes, but less so when the rhythmic bursts of noise were replaced by knocks on my front door. 
Within 40 minutes of opening it to Nick in a silk shirt and jeans too skinny for someone pushing thirty, I was two drinks in and dancing to Blue DeTiger with a pair of hands on my waist that I didn’t entirely recognise. It was just the six of us: Me, Nick, Ellie, Theo, Julia and Harry.
He was hard to ignore, not that I was trying particularly hard. On the drive over, the limited backseat space in Nick’s car and close proximity had practically forced me into his lap. Even with thighs pressed tightly against each other, we hardly talked, a few polite hellos here and there and then silence as we listened to Eleanor recall her latest night with whichever blonde bassist was her ‘soulmate’ that week. The whole ride over, Harry kept his hands on the thigh closest to the door and leant his shoulders the same way as to touch me as little as possible - which was still quite a lot considering the packed five seater pushing seven passengers. It was fairly common knowledge we weren’t close and I got the feeling he wasn’t too keen on me, but he could at least not act like touching me would be the worst thing ever. 
As the night went on he clung to Theo, ever the cuddly drunk, and I stayed more to the pleasant stranger I’d found on the dance floor.
No meanest was ever intended between us but I couldn’t help but watch the kindergarten like bitterness grow as everyone just loved him. We couldn’t go anywhere without a crying fan or two approaching the sweet and smiling man who always answered their questions affectionately and hugged them goodbye. The times he was out of town were always filled with comments about his absence, as if none of us were good enough without his added presence. I couldn’t help but wonder why they even bothered to bring me into their little group. The lack of closeness between Harry and I felt almost like a lack of closeness to the group as a whole, despite how much my individual friendships with everyone advanced. 
Just as I thank the waitress - Alice, her name tag read, and take the first sip of my third tea (I had to switch after a particularly strong starter coffee) I notice a familiar man out the corner of my eye looking just as rough as me. Of course he’s wearing it better than I am. 
Harry collects a drink from the counter and bows his head slightly in thanks, turning and catching my eye just as he’s on his way out. He waves with his free hand and shoots me a candid smile before making a quick change in direction towards my small table. 
“Long time no see,” He pulls the chair opposite me out a little as he chuckles at his own joke. He perches lightly, temporarily. “How’ve you been?”
“A little hungover, I won’t lie..” I laugh, surprised by the whole encounter. “You?” 
“Same, I might have had a shot or two too many,” I nod knowingly and shut my laptop softly. He sips what smells like coffee before going on. “Are ya workin? Sorry to interrupt.” 
“Oh no- I mean I am but it doesn’t matter really, ‘ve kinda hit a dead end.” His eyes hover, waiting for me to go on. “I was gonna get it done last night but Nick had other plans..” 
“Yeah Nick’ll do that to you,” He laughs, “What’re you writing ‘bout?” 
He leans slightly forwards, holding eye contact and shuffling comfortably into his chair. 
“Oh just this promotional piece on a new company, they’re hiring young women and training them to make these handmade clothes. They’re paying them above minimum wage and focusing on sustainability so this editor I’ve written for before offered me it.” I’m not really sure how sincere he is in his curiosity, he always seems to have time to listen when Julia has a new design plan or Theo’s found a new artist but that’s different really. I stop before I start to ramble, just in case. 
“That’s so cool, what kinda stuff are they making?” He prompts, resting his chin on his fist, imitating the posture of an eager little kid. 
“They've started stocking stuff by other independent artists but mostly dungarees and these cool cord trousers, they’d suit you actually, even got some 70s style ones.” Now that the two worlds are colliding in my head, I can’t help but imagine Harry in a pair of their forest green cords, the wide legs would almost bury his vans but a part of me is pretty sure he’d love them. 
“Thanks, if they come at your recommendation I might have to get my hands on a pair,” He smiles, his tone’s a lot different to the usual polite cheer, it’s difficult to place where it’s landed before he’s talking again. “Reminds me of that show you took us to with the upcycled clothes, all those dungarees made of old quilts - remember?” 
It’d been a small exhibit just outside of London I’d mentioned offhandedly and somehow ended up showing everyone around. It was nice to have them all in my world for an evening. Marcus, a friend of mine from college, had put it together and created a lot of the pieces. He and the others I’d met through my work were fairly shocked to say the least when Harry Styles came traipsing through the doors behind me. All night he quietly asked Nick questions, to which Nick only responded by motioning towards me and wandering off to the bar. 
“I do - I’m surprised you do to be honest.” It slips before I can decide if it sounds passive aggressive or not. To be fair, it had been a surprise to me, meeting everyone at the train station and watching Harry and Nick scramble out a taxi and run towards us. He’d been dressed in proper gallery attire and seemed genuinely thrilled to be joining in on the rare night I actually played host. 
“Course I do, it was a good night...I’d choose it over Nick’s tequila Tuesdays anyday.” His phone buzzes on the table, a text popping up in green. “Oh I- my manager’s waiting sorry.” 
A sheepish smile is accompanied by a loose arm movement towards the door where, out on the street, I see Jeff. He’s shaking his head and motioning for Harry to hurry up. Had Harry sat down to talk to me whilst his manager had been waiting this whole time? 
“It was good running into you, good luck with it all,” He stands. “See you friday yeah?” 
I’d totally forgotten about his “Whenever I’m in town Friday film night.” until he mentioned it. I’d been twice in the past and stayed quietly to my corner of the sofa, only watching as everyone else laughed at whatever romcom had been chosen that night. 
“I-maybe.” He shakes his head as I smile, not quite ready to commit a whole evening to watching Nick raid Harry’s wine cellar. 
“You better, I’m gonna need to hear more ‘bout those cords.” He points his hand in a kind of joking reprimand/wave before he’s gone back down the aisle of tables to the door where Jeff ruffles a hand through his hair and laughs when his hands fly to fix the now birdnest of brown curls. 
I open my laptop back up, skimming over the last few lines I wrote to get myself back on track. I take a sip and my tea’s gone cold. 
. . . . .
“Are you coming to Harry’s tonight?” Eleanor asks down the phone, her voice chipper as she no doubt raids her closet. 
“Maybe, I don’t know..I’ve got this deadline Monday morning that I’m nowhere near meeting.” 
“Come on Liv, we haven’t seen you all properly together since last month, and last week doesn’t count it was too loud to actually talk!” She chimes in, the sound of clothes being tossed to the floor clear in the distant background. “Have you got a problem with Harry or something?” 
“No Elle, of course I don’t-” 
“Then why do you guys never talk? You hardly come with us when he’s around and when you do you barely even say hello.” Eleanor complains, she’s mentioned it in the past but it’s been easy to blow off with excuses of how busy he usually was making his way around the room to greet everyone or how we just hadn’t known each other that long and weren't particularly close yet. 
“I just...I don’t know, I don’t think he likes me very much.” I pause. I still haven't decided what last Saturday was in the cafe. “We’re not really close and I’d prefer not to spend another night listening to people tell him - and everyone else - how great he is.” 
“You’re saying that like he’s some arrogant twit, if you came out with us more you’d see what he’s really like around his friends. Or you know, you could actually talk to him when we’re together and see that he’s not a dick?” 
It was a fair point. I haven’t made much of an effort over the past year to spend any time with him outside of larger gatherings or to have genuine conversations with him that went past the weather or a new jacket one of us had on. Maybe he really is a good guy away from all the pretentious crowds and watchful eyes he usually called to our group. He’d certainly seemed different in the quiet Saturday surroundings of Blondies Coffee Roasters in between sips of coffee. 
“Okay, okay yeah I’ll see you there.” We hang up a couple of minutes later and I’m left alone in my kitchen again.
. . . . . 
“Hey!” Harry cheers as the door swings open to reveal him in yet another pair of flared pants that hung comfortably around his waist. “Come in, come in.” 
We all pile in through the doorway as he steps aside. Arms weaving through each other as we hang coats and jackets and Julia passes Harry the fruit platter she’d made (and scolded us all for picking at on the drive over.) 
“Oh very appropriate,” Harry laughs as he uncovers the tray to reveal an array of sliced watermelon, strawberries and grapes, He sets the fruit down on the table in the lounge for us all to eat and shakes his head lightly. I look up at Julia for an explanation but she’s too busy claiming the comfiest loveseat for the night. “I’m never telling you anything again, Jules.” 
Julia and Harry tease each other for a moment more until Theo catches my confused stares and laughs to himself. 
“Harry wrote a song ‘bout fruit- another one actually,” Theo starts, tucking himself beside Julia and letting her take over before he can finish. “S’not just about fruit though is it H?” 
Harry blushes slightly and settles his glare on Julia as he carries six wine glasses through to the table. 
“‘S about watermelon, it just has some..” He clears his throat as he fumbles for his next sentence. “Other themes to it too.” 
“As if mate,” Theo’s laughter booms, “ Basically Liv, he wrote this new song the other day all about how much he loves to-” 
“Watermelon!” Harry yells, pointing an accusatory finger at Theo. “S’all about how much I love watermelons...I’m a fruit guy.” 
“Oh are we talking about the pussy song?” 
All heads snap round to see Nick, obviously having let himself in and now chuckling softly to himself as he leans against the archway into the room. 
“Oh sorry H, were you tryna give an interview answer?” 
Harry just slaps his palm over his eyes and lets his shoulders shake for a minute before he bounces back to host mode. 
“Okay!” I can’t help but notice how flushed the tips of his ears are as he claps his hands together, desperately trying to move on from the conversation. “Who wants wine?” 
Fifteen minutes later everyone is settled onto the sofas with an array of throws between us and a layout of fruits, crisps and other mid rom com snacks that make me feel bad I left my flat in too much of a hurry to remember anything but hummus. 
“Okay - Sixteen Candles, When Harry Met Sally or Mamma Mia?” Nick calls out, waving the tv remote above his head to get everyone's attention. An outpour of votes follows - you’d think between only six of us we’d be able to sort out a process by now but still we fall into momentary anarchy as the room divides. 
“Mamma Mia is a classic!” Eleanor protests as Nick’s shaking his head. 
“And Billy Crystal isn’t?” He yells back, eyes wide and genuinely offended. 
“Colin Firth is arguably more iconic, Nick really, come on.” Theo sighs. He accepts the high fives Ellie and I reach out to him and saluts us both. 
“We’ve all seen Mamma Mia before though, we’ve never watched When Harry Met Sally all together,” Julia points out, winning a smirk and nod of approval from Nick. 
There’s a beat of silence while Nick weighs up the votes in his head. He tilts to the side slightly and eyes Harry up, our gazes following. 
“Harry?” 
“Ellie?” 
“Come on, you’ve got the last vote here, and I know how much you like Meryl.” Nick gasps a little, the mention of Meryl Streep as a wager to win Harry over to his opposing team was definitely foul play in his eyes. 
“Yeah but he loves When Harry Met Sally...and he is a narcissist..” Julia offers into the debate, a few snickers follow her comment before we all turn to look at Harry. We’re all already half a glass in but I could swear for just a moment his eyes lingered over me, fluttering down to my smile before turning back to announce his decision to Nick. 
“I’m afraid I am in the mood for a bit of Abba,” Cheers and not so subtle murmurs of frustration fill the lounge as Nick scrolls through the Romance bar on Netflix before clicking on the film of just over half of our choosing. 
Everyone goes quiet as the film starts, breaking out into bursts of song only as the cast does. From the conversation in the car, it’s pretty clear everyone has just been through a pretty tiring week. We all tended to pile our workload a little heavy so it was always nice to escape for a few hours at the weekend and relax together.
Just as Voulez-vous plays through the room, a slightly tipsy Nick leans into Harry to serenade the singer with his own rendition. The duo sway slightly, both narrowly avoiding Nick’s wild limbs before there’s a crash and Harry’s cursing. 
“Oh- H, Sorry!” 
Nick’s wine glass that’d been balanced on the coffee table in front of him moments before now lays on its side. The, luckily white, wine trickles down onto the rug but most noticeably splashes into Harry’s lap. I’m not entirely sure how he managed it, it must have flown forwards when it was knocked but Harry quickly stands to access the damage. 
“I’m so sorry Harry I-” 
“Don’t worry mate, I’m just gonna go change and toss these in the wash..could you wipe that up for me?” Nick nods, looking a little less cheerful and a lot more guilty now as Harry makes it way out the room. He calls behind him: “Keep watching I’ll only be a second!” 
Nick finishes wiping down the table and rug just as Harry jogs back into the room. I don’t mean to and I’m never one to check people out..unless very subtly, but I can’t help but let my eyes linger a little. 
He’s still in his plain tee but instead of his fancy pants he’s found some soft wash denim jeans. The whole look paired with his thick rimmed glasses and how his hair's gotten tousled about by Nick throughout the night just made him look so...ordinary. Not in any bad way, anyone who met Harry knew he could never be ordinary, no matter how casual he dressed, but something about seeing him abandon the more dressed up looks and go for the comfortable option just made him seem different. 
In a second his green eyes are complimenting the look too as he gazes down at me. 
“Hi,” He mouths, nobody’s taken much notice of his return, yet another musical number taking everyone’s attention. It’s my turn to blush a little now. I avert my eyes quickly, anywhere really, before sneaking a quick look up at him to smile back. 
Ellie had helped Nick in the “For fucksake save Harry’s rug it probably costs more than your car” mission and had stolen the seat beside him after they were done. It slipped my mind until Harry set the new bottle of wine on the table and sunk down into the space beside me, He curls one leg underneath him and slips me one more smile before turning back to the screen just as Donna and Sam start singing SOS.
. . . . . 
“Ah shit, I think I left my book!” I curse just as we make it down the road to Julia’s car. Parking was shit so by the time we found a spot we’d ended up a good 15 minutes away from Harry’s house. “You guys go on, I’m only round the corner anyway.” 
Theo and Julia were familiar with my stubbornness so let me go, yelling their goodbyes after a few hugs as they drove away, Ellie and Nick do the same as they clamber into a taxi. I turn quickly in the chilly air and make my way back down the street to Harry’s drive, punching in the familiar code at his gate before running up to the door hastily. 
It was open - as always, so I let myself in. He was probably still cleaning the lounge up after we all got a little too tipsy. 
“Hey it’s me...just left my book sorry!” I call down the hallway. It’s quiet despite the light Paul Simon playing in the distance so I make my way quickly to the sofas I’d spent most of the night on, praying to avoid an awkward run-in with Harry. 
Although we’d actually shared some light conversation throughout the night and a handful of smiles, I’m not sure we’re quite at the stage in our friendship that me more or less breaking into his house wouldn’t be awkward to run into. 
The lounge is empty when I get there. The side tables are still littered with wine glasses and tacky red rings on coasters but no Harry in sight. Or book for that matter. 
I start pulling back the cushions carefully - god knows how much they cost. Despite scouring the one spot I’d pretty much clung to the whole night -  incidentally beside Harry -  I have no luck. Nick tossed the book back to me at some point in the night after reading it by my recommendation but knowing him it could have ended up anyway. I follow the breadcrumbs of our night down another hallway as I vaguely remember Nick talking about a certain plot twist as we searched Harry’s kitchen cupboards for the wine he’d sent us off to restock. 
As I come around the white archway into his kitchen I catch a glimpse of him from around the kitchen island. He has his back turned to me but he’s leant forwards against a counter with ring covered fingers clutching the edge, a glass of amber liquid set slightly away from him. 
“Oh, sorry I was just-” He jumps a little at my voice, turning quickly to face me with his now free hands coming up to hold his chest. When his eyes finally meet mine they’re red and it takes a second for him to register the tears still streaming from them before he replies. 
“Shit, fu- what are you..are you alright?” His hands bat between tangling into his hair and wiping the tears from his cheeks, anything to avoid actually looking up at me again. 
“Yeah, I just..um..left my book,” I mumble, taking a step closer to him when I notice how his hands shake as they move timidly around his face. “Harry, what’s wrong?”
“Uuuh um.” He wanders for a moment before slapping a palm lightly atop the counter and pulling out his infamous grin. “Nothing much, how bout you - find your book?” 
“-Harry..” I take another step close, “I know we’re not, ya know..close. But you can talk to me.” 
There’s a beat of silence when he keeps up the act, I’d almost believe it if it wasn’t for his bloodshot eyes and anxious fingers drumming against the tile. 
“What’s wrong?” 
He pauses for a moment, assessing whether or not to tell me whatever’s weighing so heavy on his shoulders. But the dam bursts. 
“Fuckin’ everything Love” He laughs, rubbing his palms over his face. I try to focus on the matter at hand: Harry weeping in his kitchen. But that name’s only ever left his mouth directed at me a handful of times and it’s never made my stomach flutter quite as it did just now. “Just..Fuck I’m so lonely Olivia.” 
I don’t really know any of the details but between conversation - mostly overheard, and the media frenzy, it was hard not to be aware of Harry’s break up two months ago. I can’t claim we were close enough to discuss it, having hardly ever talked beyond trivial issues, but I knew that despite them only being together two or so months, he’d been incredibly distant for the weeks that followed the break up. 
“I hear about you and Aubre..I’m really sorry it didn’t work out for you guys-” Harry laughs almost, a pained sort of chuckle that told me I was way off with this one. 
“It’s not..that isn’t why I..” He takes a deep breath before lifting his head up slightly to focus on where his fingers still tapped out a nervous beat on the counter. “I was lonely before her...and with her. I just, I can’t seem to get it right ever...feels like nobody wants to be with me for the right reasons.” 
“Hey no..what about tonight? Your house was full of so many people who love you yeah? Maybe your bougie wine collection had something to do with it but still,” He laughs at that, peeking up from behind his fringe for just a moment. “They- we love you ‘k?” 
“I know but, ‘clock hits the am and everyone leaves, it just gets...it gets so fucking lonely to see everyone in perfect pairs ya know?” 
I don’t really know what I’m doing but I’m doing it - my arms wrap over his shoulders and lock with a hand at the nape of his neck. We’ve never hugged before beyond a general greeting but anyone watching wouldn’t know it, his face burrows quickly into my shoulder and his arms cocoon over my waist, holding me tightly and slipping under the thick layers of my jacket. 
“I know exactly what you mean, H.” 
The hug lasts longer than I imagined it might. He smells of vanilla and the coffee he brought back in bulk from Jamaica. He lets out a shaky breath and melts further into me, nuzzling my neck softly with the tip of his nose. His curls are soft between my fingers and I find myself shhing him, lulling us both into a tired kind of calm. 
Another moment passes in the silence of his kitchen before Harry lets out an awkward cough and straightens up, pulling out of our hold and immediately covering his face with his palms again. 
“I..sorry Jules and Theo must be waiting for you..” Harry murmured, wiping the last of his tears away and letting his hands fall and fidget by his sides. 
“Oh no don’t worry they..um they already went I was actually just gonna walk.” I tell him, making his head perk up a bit. 
“Wha-It’s past twelve Liv it’s not safe, how far do you even live?” He clears his throat and his voice is clearer now, it feels like a whole different world to the one we were in just a minute ago. 
“It’s fine honestly, only take like thirty minutes walking - I’ve done it before-” I ramble, eager to put this situation behind me before I embarrass myself anymore. 
“No - let me drive you yeah?” Harry shakes his head, adamant. 
“Harry..we’ve been drinking all night, I think that’s more dangerous than me jus’ walking.” I laugh, holding his gaze for a second longer than I usually would - fuck, how do we usually act around each other?
Before I come to a conclusion, his eyes rest heavy on mine and I can see the cogs turning in his brain as he tries to work his way out of this one. Ever the people pleaser. 
“Then stay.” 
“Harry-”
“You said you know how it feels.” He cuts in, unwavering now as he doesn’t let my eyes fall from his. “So stay …’s safer anyway.” 
. . . . . 
“I can take the sofa, really Harry I don’t mind,” I reassure as he tosses me an old t-shirt and joggers to sleep in. “It’s comfier than my bed anyway. 
His guest bedrooms had just been painted and were still pretty fume filled so the sofa or his bed were the only options. For twenty minutes now he’s tried to convince me to take his bed and leave him on the sofa, despite the fact we both know he’s a little too tall to sleep without his feet hanging off the end. 
“But you’re my guest!” He protests again, coming up from his wardrobe to stand in front of me, hand on hips and an expression of concern on his face. 
“And you’re almost six foot!” 
“Hey, I am six foot.” He takes a deep breathe, exhaling through his nose in defeat before speaking again. “Okay, you can sleep on the sofa but if anyone asks I was the perfect host and you bullied me into this.” 
I laugh softly, this whole new side of Harry had never been directed solely at me before and it was honestly refreshing. Usually Nick or another friend was the target of his jokes and playful demeanor and I only noticed it from afar but now he was right in front of me, hauling pillows off his bed and sticking his tongue out when he caught me staring. 
“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” He asks for the third time since I agreed to stay the night. We’ve just finished setting up the sofa to sleep on and despite the duvet and many quilts far more lush than my own actual bed, he seemed unconvinced it was enough. 
“I’m sure” I sit back into the pile of blankets and pillows, tucking my feet underneath me and looking back up at Harry. “If you’re really not, just come watch a film with me and see how cozy it is.” 
The quick change in dynamic was a lot smoother than I’d imagined. Within an hour of being alone together we’d already talked more than in all our past interactions, not to mention how close we’ve gotten. He only nods his head quickly and he’s settling under a quilt beside me, rummaging around for a controller to pull up netflix again. 
“Mamma Mia two?” He asks. 
I chuckle a bit and nod. At the beginning of the evening I hadn’t quite seen it ending in a Mamma Mia marathon with just me and Harry. 
He presses play and as the opening display begins we both lean back into the sofa and pull the blankets up over us. It’s only in the quiet of the first few scenes that I notice we’re matching. We’re both dressed fully in his clothes, grey joggers and t-shirt - his rolling stones, mine fleetwood mac. And it all smells of him. I pull the blanket a little higher over my chest and the faint, but now familiar, scent of vanilla and coffee fills my lungs and for a second all I can focus on is how desperately I want to be in his arms again. 
. . . . .
“-ow” A groggy voice mumbles from above me and I feel myself being pulled forwards slightly against something hard - and warm. 
I’m a few seconds from falling straight back asleep before I feel the painful ache in the side of my neck. I reach a hand up to gauge my current situation and feel my fingers plunging into soft hair - soft hair that ends too soon to be mine. 
“Hi..” I recoil my hand quickly back to my side and push myself up so I’m sitting slightly. I look down and see Harry, half asleep still and hand still resting on my side. 
“Oh-hey sorry,” What do you say when you wake up beside the guy you barely knew but simultaneously had been incredibly vulnerable with just the night before? 
Harry seems to be waking up now and certainly more aware of our predicament as he pulls his hand away from where it was holding firmly onto the material of my - his - t-shirt and pushes himself up to sit against the arm of the sofa. 
“We must have fallen asleep..sorry I didn’t mean too, ya know…” His eyes flutter between where I sit opposite him and the “Are you still watching?” Netflix screen. 
“It’s fine, accidents happen an’ everything.” I smile, slipping out from the warm cocoon of blankets to stand. “I’m just gonna wash up quickly and I’ll be out of you hair.” 
Before I can rush off to tame my hair and hopefully find some toothpaste to rid me of my morning breath, Harry clasps his hand gently around my wrist and tugs slightly to get my attention. 
“Not in a rush Love, I’ll make us some breakfast.” He says it effortlessly, like it was a regular occurrence for us to fall asleep cuddling on his sofa. He stands, groaning as his knees pop appreciatively and lets my hand go before he’s disappearing into the kitchen.
“Okay…” I murmur to myself. “....okay.” 
. . . . .  
Alice is back at my table with my second refill before 11am. I thank her and take a gulp of the fiery ginger tea before reading over the last three paragraphs I just wrote. The spice licks my tongue as I tip the cup up for a second sip; it’s autumn after all. 
In the last two weeks September had slipped into October and all the trees in London had received the memo. I’d been busy, hoaled up in the quietest corner of Blondies the whole time with coffee filling all my senses. I haven’t seen everyone together since that night at Harry’s. I grabbed lunch with Eleanor the Monday afterwards and told her nothing, preferring to avoid the texts my phone amassed over the fortnight. I've turned down all proposed group activities and focused on work instead. To be fair, I do have a lot to get done. There were always seasonal pieces in my to do list and with the weather getting colder it was time I got to them before it was Christmas already. 
I haven’t talked to Harry either. He made us pancakes with blueberries and maple syrup in the morning and we haven’t even texted since; I’m not sure that we even have a private text between us. Eleanor and Julia have told me how much fun they’ve all had the times I’ve politely but persistently declined, I can only assume Harry’s in the mix with them all. He’s in town for awhile if I’m remembering our breakfast chatter correctly, it makes sense that they’re all hanging out together really when they don’t often get time together. Ellie’s phone calls keep me from sliding into thoughts of how easily I could fall right out of the group and not be missed, at least. I was just taking space for work. The fact that most of my afternoons at the cafe disappeared into me analysing anything I might ever have felt or said to Harry means nothing at all. 
Neither does the heightened pace of my heartbeat when he walks through the stiff wooden  doors of Blondies. 
He orders what I assume is his regular black coffee, scans the room for a second and lands directly on me. He hesitates a little to hold my gaze, turning his head to look outside before looking back at me and smiling. He thanks the server and takes a few quick steps towards me, weaving in between the packed tables to my little spot hidden away in the corner. 
“Hi,” He smiles again, although his toneos overshadowed by a slight anxious hilt. “Can I sit?” 
Nodding, I close my laptop and pull my tea closer to me to make a space for him. 
“Hi.” He repeats, smiling a little sheepishly. 
“Hi,” I wait a second, nervous to start when I’m so unsure of how this conversation has already gone in his head. But he doesn’t say anything so I push through and bite the bullet against my better judgement. “Look, about that Friday I-”
“Can I just-” He cuts me off, leaning forwards and opening his hands out as he mulls over his next few words. “I’m sorry if it was awkward at all, I didn’t mean for anything to happen and I thought we were fine an’ everything but then I haven’t seen you in two weeks and Ellie keeps saying you’re not comin’ out. Did I do something wrong?” 
“Oh god no,” I hurry, “You didn’t do anything it was just - I didn’t expect to wake up..like that...and it was just a really quick change because we’ve never really been close and suddenly it was just, us, like that.” 
He nods, pushing a loose curl back a second later that broke free in the motion. He seems understanding as he looks down before leaning his elbows against the table so only the two of us can hear what he’s about to say. 
“I know, I didn’t expect it either but, can I just tell you I’m glad that it happened?” He leaves a three second pause for me to flounder in confusion before continuing. “What I told you, ‘bout feeling lonely, it messes with my sleep all the time. I just get stuck in my own thoughts but the night you stayed over I slept fine - perfect even.”
Not sure what else to do with this new information, I nod for him to continue.
“I know we’ve never been close, but hanging out with you just really calmed me down.” He smiles, gaining confidence now in his vulnerability tucked away in our little hiding place. “Thank you for staying.” 
“I get what you mean.” I mumble, slightly anxious any of the busy customers with prying eyes could overhear my confession. “I never really know when to stop working and I think I got the best night sleep on your sofa I’ve had in awhile, which really speaks volumes about how crappy my mattress is.”  
He chuckles. Relief seems to settle in as he lets his shoulders relax and face soften. 
“I was thinking - especially now that I know it was good for you as well, maybe it could become more of a regular thing?” He asks, his forefinger and thumb pinch together and twist one of his rings a little - a nervous habit, I’m sure. 
“How do you mean?” 
“Like..when we all go out, maybe we go home together, you know - so we can sleep better.” He moves down to focus on the metal rose he’s still fumbling at. “If..if you don’t want to or you think it’d be weird it’s fi-” 
“I’d like that.” I reach forwards to comfort him, absentmindedly cupping my fingers around his. “I think it’d be nice, to get a good night's sleep I mean.” 
“I’m glad.” He beams.
“..That and you make a mean blueberry pancake.” I tease, earning a light chuckle from Harry. 
Just like our last cafe encounter, the ping of a his phone beats me to my new few words. He checks it quickly, shaking his head and glancing down the large room to the shop front where, once again, Jeff waits. He seems a little more agitated this time, waving vigorously whilst trying not to attract the attention of passersby, all  rather unsuccessfully. 
“Bollocks okay - I’ve gotta go,” Harry swears, collecting his coffee from the table and pushing his chair back quickly. “I’ll just - we can text before we go out next yeah?” 
“Cool, yeah - wait a sec, let me just give you my number.” I reach up for him to hand me his phone but he doesn’t make any effort to move, instead he blushes slightly and stares at the floor. “..What?” 
“I um, I already have it.” He fiddles with the hair at the nape of his neck before talking again. It’s hard not to remember how it felt when it was my fingers carding through his brown curls. “I got it from Theo awhile back when we were going to this thing, felt weird not having it. I hope that..okay and everythin’” 
I nod, smiling up at him. The idea of him having a part of me for this past year without me even knowing is oddly precious. The fact that he felt odd about not having my number and going to the effort of getting it from Theo was unbelievably endearing. 
“That’s fine, helpful actually.” I smile still, “Text me before we meet everyone and we’ll make a plan or somethin’” 
“Okay,” He smirks, his slight cocky nature reemerging. “Will do, Liv. See you soon?” 
“See you soon.” 
Jeff flies a hand up to his hair like before but this time is met with a grinning Harry who doesn’t seem to mind so much. 
. . . . . 
Unknown Number 
‘Hey! Is tonight good? We can slip off after drinks at the gallery. H x’ 
I look down at my phone. Caught off guard by the sudden text, I’d almost forgotten out arrangement. Julia invited us all to a gallery opening of one of her friend's new exhibits. Even as I flicked through my wardrobe for the right jacket, I hadn’t put two and two together and realised I’d be seeing Harry again for the first time since our chat at Blondies four days ago. 
I save his number and I think quickly, not wanting to leave him on read when he knew I’d be leaving to see them all any second and most likely spend the whole tube journey on my phone. 
‘Hi :) That’d work for me yh, just let me know when you want to leave and I’ll make an excuse. Liv x’ 
With another thought rushing through my head, I send a quick follow up. 
Me
‘Can we keep this between us right now? Might be a bit tricky to explain to the others.” 
Harry
‘Read my mind love.’
‘See you in a bit :)’ 
I’m still not the hugest fan of the airy feeling that rushed through my stomach as I read over the pet name. He was just from Manchester, it was normal up there to call everything by casually affectionate little names. It didn’t mean anything at all. 
. . . . . 
“Livia!” Nick calls out when he sees me scanning over the faces at the entrance to the gallery. I smile instantly and make my way over, quickly falling into his arms as he rocks us for a second. “Haven’t seen you in an age!” 
“‘Ve been working, we can’t all piss about Monday to Friday.” I giggle, smiling wide as he murmurs something under his breath and plants a big kiss on my cheek. “Is everyone here?” 
I try not to look suspicious when I peak over around us, trying to pick a certain brunette from the crowd.
“Yeah, they’re just over there with Julia’s friend.” Nick points and I see him immediately. He’s dressed just as I expected - half gucci half grandpa sweaters. “I’m gonna get us drinks, meet you there?” 
“Mhmmm” I hum, breaking out of his hold and slipping through the crowds to our small group of friends. 
“Hi!” Julia smiles brightly. She hugs me quickly before stepping aside to give Eleanor and Theo their turns. They all whisper quiet ‘Missed yous’ in my ear as if I’ve been gone for years. 
“Hey,” Harry appears by my side as everyone else turns their attention to the front of the crowd where it looks like the artist is setting up to introduce the night. “How’ve you been?” 
“In the last four days?” I chuckle, “Good. Not been sleeping great, but I’ve got a lot of work done so that’s been great.” 
He nods approvingly. A smile tugs at his lips at the mention of sleep, almost like some secret inside joke we’ve managed to form between just the two of us. 
“Me neither. Jeff’s been buggin’ me what feels like every hour with deadlines.” I find myself squeezing his hand a little under his long coat sleeves so nobody can see. “Looking forward to just collapsing tonight, if I’m honest.” 
“Me too.” I smile tiredly, tonight had been a big ask come to think of it. I've had work piled up twice my height all week and even having worked day in and day out I’ve still only made a crack in the mountain of final edits and emails to respond to.
Harry squeezes my fingers back and our hands linger in each other's hold until Nick emerges beside us and the artist begins her speech. 
. . . . .
 The comfortable chatter surrounding the booth we’d taken up a few hours ago died down as the clock ticked later and later. We’d left the gallery a while ago now in favour of the after party at a pub down the road but by now the heavy scent of beers and various gin based concoctions were giving us all headaches. 
“I think I’m gonna call it a night guys,” Harry announces, a slew of groans following from the group. “Sorry, sorry! It’s been great but it’s getting late.” 
Julia and Theo move out the way to let him out the booth. He slides across the red cushion to stand, pulling his coat over himself as he sneaks a quick look at me. 
“I think I’m gonna head off too,” I smile, waiting for Eleanour to stand and let me out as another wave of complaints flooded me. “Sorry! I’ve got work and the tube’ll be hell any later.” 
“Well if Harry’s going too couldn’t he take you home?” Julia suggests, looking between the two of us as we now stand slightly away from each other. “You drove right?” 
“Yeah, I did.” Harry turns to smile at me, amused clearly by how our plan was being unknowingly encouraged by our friends. “C’mon, I’ll drive yeh.” 
I nod, biting back a smirk. We say our goodbyes and wave as we slip out the heavy pub doors out onto the road outside. It’s started to drizzle slightly and I resent choosing the jacket without a hood. 
“I’m just over here,” Harry points a little ways off. “Hurry, think it’s about to pour.” 
We walk quickly down the street and through a metal gate into a car park when there’s a loud rumble of thunder and immediately the rain thickens. 
“Fuck!” Harry laughs as he scrambles for his keys, we match each other's paces until we’re practically sprinting to his car in the far corner of the lot. The click of the locks sounds out and his lights flash red a second before we’re both pulling the doors open and throwing ourselves inside onto warm seats. 
We catch our breath, chests rising and falling with uneven pants before our laughter settles and Harry slots the keys into the ignition. 
. . . . . 
“Do you want anything to eat?” Harry asks as he closes his front door behind us and we kick out shoes off in his hall. “I think I have some takeout menus somewhere..” 
“I’m not really hungry, thanks though,” I cut off his search as he walks through to his kitchen and starts opening draws. “Kinda just wanna go to bed now.” 
He nods and rubs a hand under his eye in silent agreement of my exhaustion.
“I’ll make us a tea, meet you up there yeah?” He calls over his shoulder, having turned quickly to retrieve various packets from his cupboards. “Chamomile okay?” 
“Yeah chamomiles good,” I hover for a second in the archway leading into the kitchen, suddenly awkward to be alone in his house again. “Where um..where is it?” 
He looks over his shoulder at me, slightly confused. His eye brows unfurrow when I motion behind me. 
“Oh- just up the stairs and third room down the hall..on the left.” He smiles, turning back to the cupboard to look through his extensive mug collection. 
I nod to myself, spinning on my heel and making my way up his stairs. I’ve never gone beyond the downstairs of his house before and even then I stuck to the kitchen, dining room and lounge. It felt odd to suddenly have access to something as intimate as his bedroom, I try not to overthink things as I push open the third door I see.
The first thing I see is his large bed, there’s probably enough room for three people on it and there’s definitely enough pillows to go around. The room as a whole is tidy, whether it’s always like that or only organised so precisely for my visit, I don’t know, but the thought makes my stomach flutter. 
I walk up to the side of the bed with no charger on it’s table and set my bag down. We hadn’t talked about the logistics of our...arrangement, but I’d brought the basics to last me through the night. I plug my charger into the wall and take out my wash bag and a set of clothes to sleep in before sliding my bag under the table. I look around for a second. Somehow I hadn’t really thought through the fact that by the end of the night, I’d be in Harry’s bed. With Harry. In a completely platonic way with the only function to soothe our mutually crappy sleeping habits. 
I hear Harry walking up the stairs just as I slip into the un suit to wash up and get changed. He’s humming a song under his breath. The clink of mugs being set down is followed by wardrobe doors opening and closing and a light thud of clothes being thrown on the bed. 
I wait a few minutes to make sure I don’t walk in on him changing. Opening the door tentatively, I step out into the room in a large sweater and pajama shorts. Harry turns to look at me, he’s in the same t-shirt he wore last time and a pair of boxer shorts and the whole situation suddenly seems so amusing. After just one night of falling asleep on the sofa together, not having ever talked before, here we are standing at our most vulnerable about to cuddle in his bed together.
“Hi.” 
“Hey,” He nods, looking down at himself. “Hope this is okay...I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or-” 
“It’s fine,” I reassure him, “I didn’t really know what to wear either.” 
His eyes flicker down my body and he smiles back up at me. He motions to the bed and we both nod a little awkwardly before making our way over to our sides. I climb in and instantly let a small groan out as my body sinks into the mattress, the pillows and duvet feel almost like a cloud as I burrow under and pull my tea up to my lips. 
Harry chuckles from beside me, I peak over the mug to seem him grinning down from where he sits slightly taller in the bed.
“Sorry, you look comfy.” He laughs a little, 
“I am, your bed’s insane.” I set my mug down and turn to him, bouncing slightly to emphasise the quality of his mattress that probably cost more than a year of my rent. “I really should start earning millions, feel like it’d suit me.” 
He returns his tea to the bedside table and copies me, turning to face me with his legs crossed. 
“It definitely would.” He smiles, bouncing a little before I let out a yawn. “Tired?” 
“Exhausted.” I mumble, hand still covering half my face. Harry reaches behind him to turn to switch the lights above his headboard off before pulling the duvet back for us to slip under.
“C’mere,” Without hesitating, I shuffle back slightly until I can feel his chest behind me and an arm come up to rest around my hip. “‘This okay?” 
“Mhmmm,” I hum, “What about our teeth?”
“We’ll brush ‘em in the morning,” I nod, groaning again as all the aches in my body subside as I sink into his arms and the foam mattress. “You okay?” 
“Yeah,” I mumble, embarrassed to have let myself go so easily around him. “Your mattress is just unbelievable. Might have to make this a regular thing.” 
I speak before I think, mind clouded with sleep and my eyes already fighting to stay open. 
“That’s the plan, love.” 
. . . . . 
When I wake up, Harry’s arms are tight around my middle and his body’s like a furnace behind me. I vaguely recall pulling my sweater off in the night to cool down as I lay now only in a vest and shorts. I slept better than I have in months though, despite the warm breaths on my neck turning my cheeks flushed. 
The mix of Harry’s company and his safe haven of a mattress made for the perfect night sleep. I push back slightly into his chest and feel his arms tighten around me and a low murmur of his voice in my ear. The clock on my bedside table reads 6:30. It’s a Saturday and I can quite easily imagine spending the rest of my day - weekend even, exactly like this. 
I slip back to sleep for a little awhile before I’m woken up to a low groan behind me. Harry shifts slightly, burying his face in the base of my neck and squeezing around my waist again. He must still be half asleep to be this comfortable with me. 
I’m proven right when it takes another fifteen minutes for him to poke his head up over my shoulder and mumble: 
“Breakfast?” 
. . . . . 
Our routine works smoothly for weeks. After sleeping so well the first few times, it became a given that we’d pile into Harry’s car after every night out with our friends and go back to his. Sometimes we’d get takeout or watch a film, but it wasn’t so rare that we’d just stumble out of his car, or a taxi - depending what the night had entailed, and walk with eyes almost closed straight to bed. 
I stopped bringing things every night about two weeks in when a new toothbrush appeared next to Harrys and an oversized t-shirt of Harrys found its way onto my side of the bed. We also ditched the awkward pleasantries. Spending two or three nights a week in his house, I’d become pretty familiar with it all. I sometimes brought us breakfast if it was a weekend, or left a coffee beside the bed for him if I left for work first, We had very easily slipped into an oddly familiar sense of domesticity. It was strange to never mention any of it to our friends, it made it special though. We helped each other, and it was all just between the two of us. Nobody else knew Harry taught me how to make coffee just the way he likes it, or that we share his lavender shampoo sometimes. 
“Ols?” Harry calls up the stairs to me. We’re running late to Julia and Theos anniversary dinner. 
“Coming!” I yell back, reaching into his wardrobe to snatch a jacket before running down the stares. 
“Oi! Slow down love, you’re gonna fall,” He complains, holding his hands out at the bottom of the stairs to catch me as I skid a little on the wooden floors of his hallway. “Hey! This’s mine!” 
He tugs playfully on the opening of his jacket. I pull the fabric from his grasp and smile up at him. 
“Not anymore…” He scrunches his nose up and pulls me towards him. The sudden movement pushed the air from my lungs suddenly. “-Fine! Just for tonight...nobody’ll notice anyway, you only just got his one.” 
He shakes his head, bringing his fingers up to tickles across my stomach quickly before letting me go and clapping his hands. 
“Shoes now!” He points down at my sock clad feet, “Come on we’re late already.” 
I sling my bag over my shoulder and slip my boots on before trailing after him to the front door. He’s pulled his large green coat off the hangar before he’s looking back down at me, brows pulled together in confusion. 
“What’ve got yeh bag for?” 
“Ah see Harry, I tend not to leave my stuff places I don’t actually live.” I laugh.
“You’re not coming back tonight?” The confusion’s not joined by a hint of sadness as his hands fall from the door knob and he turns to face front on. 
“Oh I..hadn’t thought ‘bout that. I’ve gotta water my plants.” I haven't been home in two days, I spent the whole day at Blondies yesterday then headed to Harry's after a few drinks with him and Nick. We’ve hung out around his house all day, sleeping in and finishing our last few bits of work for the week. “I can let them go a little dry I guess-” 
“Can I come to yours?” Harry cuts me off to ask. “It’s just, I haven’t ever seen it..and that way your plant’ll be fine.” 
I stay quiet for a second. Our world of sleepovers and movie marathons and home made curries for dinner existed within his house. My flat was small in comparisons to the homes of our friends, who were all, delicately put, pretty well off. Not that I wasn’t, I’d just gone into a lower paying area of my industry. I lived alone anyway so there wasn’t much point paying thousands in rent when I didn’t need much space. 
“It’s fine it you want a night to yourself I can just-” 
“It’s not that, H, I just didn't really think about how we only ever come here.” I mumble the last part, “Come back to mine, I don’t feel like going back on my own anyways.” 
I smile a little, unsure of where we stand on the whole admitting we’d grown pretty dependent on each other’s presence, front. He smiles back, twisting the door open and holding it for me as I slip under his arm. 
The car clicks unlocked and I settle into my seat. I reach over to push my seat belt in as Harry pulls his door shut and the car rumbles to a start. 
“Can’t believe Jules and T have been together so long.” He sighs as we pull out onto the main road. 
“Tell me about it,” I gaze out the window as rain dribbles lightly. “Feels like the year just went straight by.”
“They seem so happy still, like they’re still honeymooning,” Harry hums. 
“I remember when they just started going out in Uni, even then it was obvious they’d end up together.” 
“I like those kinds of people. The ones who make each other just completely themselves, ya know?” He glances over at me before turning back to the road. 
“Yeah...they’re proper soulmates aren’t they.” 
. . . . . 
“Okay but seriously, what the fuck is up with you and Harry?” Eleanor bursts out as soon as we reach the bar. We’ve been sent off to get the third round whilst the others stayed at our favourite booth of the pub we frequented. 
“Wait what?” I yell over the loud chatter of the pub, “What do you mean?” 
“You know what I mean!” She’s still waving her hand out for the bartender when she glances down at me again. “You’re tryna say you’re suddenly so close and nothing’s happened between you?” 
“We’re not that close.” I quip, “We’ve just talked a bit more lately, I guess.”
“And nothing’s happened?”  She raised a brow at me suspiciously. “You guys have left together every night for the past few weeks, just admit you have feelings for each other.” 
“No, nothing’s happened.” I sigh, unsure if I sound convincing or not. “We just live close and it’s too cold now to get the tube back so late, he’s just being nice. You know Harry...he’s like that with everyone.” 
Eleanor laughs a little, shaking her head. She places our order with the bartender when he makes his way to our side of the bar before turning back to me with her arms crossed. 
“He’s nice to everyone, but he’s not just being nice to you.” She smirks, “And he usually doesn't give just anybody his clothes.” 
She reaches out and rubs the fabric of my - Harrys - jacket between her thumb and forefinger. She looks up and quirks her brows up a little again. Before I can splutter out an explanation our drinks are being laid out on the counter beside us and Eleanor is pointing to the ones for me to carry and turning back to our booth. 
A surge of anxiety washes over me as I follow Eleanor back to the group. My breaths feel unsteady and I can’t help but dart my eyes to get a quick glance at Harry to see if he’s experiencing the same kind of interrogation. He seems fine though, laughing at something Nicks said. 
Soon we’re at the booth, slipping back into our seats and setting the drinks out in front of everyone. Harry’s eyes hover on me for a few seconds, brows raised a little in question. I smile and shake my head - everything’s fine. 
I don’t miss how Eleanor glances between us throughout the whole night. Especially not when a different two get up for the next round and Harry and I are pushed next to each other when they climb back into the available seats. Harry seems a little suspicious too. He clearly hasn’t noticed Eleanor’s strange behaviour - or doesn’t care - because he’s kept gazing down at me every now and then since we came back with drinks hours ago. When I stop looking up at him, nervous Eleanor might question me about his constant and slightly nervous glances when we’re alone, he reaches his hand under the tables and pulls mine into his lap. He squeezes our hands every now and then. He’s always a touchy, cuddly drunk. Normally it’s a bit more obvious; he’ll wrap his arms around one of us on the dance floor or lap his head on a shoulder, nothing too intimate. Just friendly. But now he’s stroking his thumb over my knuckles and tapping out the beat of the current song playing with his foot, his knee bumping mine. 
Julia and Theo are the first to go. Relief settles in me at the idea of not being the first two to leave for once. There’s no way Eleanor wouldn't’ve have noticed me and Harry sneaking the other a glance like we usually do to signal we’re ready to go, without some kind of distraction. 
“It was so lovely guys, feels like we haven’t just sat down and talked in so long!” Julia smiles, leaning into Theos side tiredly as they say their goodbyes. 
“I think I’m gonna head off too, it’s getting pretty late,” I smile, waiting for Harry to speak when Theo pipes up before him. 
“Livs, you want a lift?” Theo looks down at me. 
“Oh Olivia, that’s a good idea, you were just saying how it’s too cold for the tube.” Eleanor beams, smiling cheekily as she knows I’m the only one who’ll understand her subtle teasing. 
“Oh I-” I stutter before Harry’s squeezing my hand again and looks up at Theo. 
“I was actually gonna take her home, we’re only 10 minutes apart so it’s just easier.” He smiles politely, if I couldn’t feel his foot hooking over mine I’d believe he was just being nice and helping out a friend. 
“Yeah but you’re gonna stay a little while aren’t you?” Julia countered, “We’re pretty close, it’s fine really.” 
I nod, motioning to slide out of the booth. Harry lets me by, dropping my hand before anyone else could see. Julia, Theo and I say goodbye quickly and head out to the car park. As soon as we’re all strapped into their car, I pull out my phone and click Harry’s contact. 
Me 
Meet me at mine x
Harry 
Okay - what was that about? 
Me 
I’ll explain when u get here, just something w Eleanor
U might have been right about the jacket :/ 
Theo pulls up outside my flat and I jump out the car, thanking them quickly and waving them off. I climb the stairs of my building and click the keys in my door, pushing it open and kicking my shoes off the second I get in. After a fifteen minute frantic clean, the place is looking slightly better. There’s no time to perfect it as I hear my phone buzzing on the counter, a dorky photo of Harry in one of his infamous sweaters all sprawled out on the sofa and sticking his tongue out at me flashes the screen. 
“Hello?” 
“Hey, I’m just outside,” He talks softly, “What number are you?” 
“24, wait a sec and I’ll buzz you up.” 
I tread quickly to the button by my front door and let him up, hearing a quiet thanks over the phone and a “See you in a sec”  before the line goes dead. 
A minute later there’s a quiet knock at my door. I open it and see Harry, he looks a little more tired than when I left him forty minutes ago, he rubs his knuckles under his eyes and sighs softly. 
“Hey, come in.” I pull the door a little wider, stepping aside to let him inside. He walks past me, eyes watching the floor whilst I lock the up behind us and turn to face him. There's an awkward tension in the air that I haven’t experienced with Harry before, maybe a little that first night when I walked in on him in his kitchen, but nothing like this since we’ve gotten closer.  
“What happened?” He asks quietly, lifting his head with an uncertain look on his face.”You barely even looked at me. 
“I..” I stumble over what to say, I’ve been thinking I could just explain what Eleanor had said and have it done with but now I know we’re not going to be able to just leave this. If somebody’s going to find out about our arrangement then something would have to change. “Ellie thinks there’s something going on with us and she kept staring all night. I just, I couldn’t give her anything to be suspicious about.” 
“S’that what you mean about the jacket?” I nod, “What did she say?” 
“Just that we seemed closer, talk more I guess.” I sigh, “She didn’t believe anything I said.” 
“What did you say?” He presses. His tone is unclear, he seems less hurt now and more focussed on getting answers from me. 
“I just, I told her nothing’s happened.” I mumble, “She asked about us leaving together and I told her it was just because we lived close and it’s easier than the tube.” 
Harry bobs his head a little, taking in what I’ve just told him before laughing a little. He shakes his head and brings his palms up to his face, cursing under his breath. We stand in the quiet of my hallway before he speaks up again.
“Can we still do this?” That catches me off guard. Of course I knew we’d have to stop sometime when one of us started dating or a friend found out, I just hadn’t thought seriously about it happening anytime soon. “If she does find out, would that be the worst thing in the world?”
I shake my head, taking a step towards him to close the gap between us that’d been building my nerves throughout this whole exchange. 
“I don’t wanna stop hanging out.” I confess. Harry quirks his lips up a little, obviously relieved as he pulls me to his chest. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and rests his chin on my head as we breathe together for a moment. All the while we’ve been spending nights at his, there’s been no serious moments like this. We’ve opened up about vulnerable subjects and confessed more than we probably should have to each other, but never anything like this. There’d never been a  time I thought I could lose him. 
“What if something did happen.” He whispers into my hair. 
“Like what?” I murmur, voice a little muffled by his jacket. 
“Like..” He trails off a little and I’m pretty sure I hear him inhale a little and smell my hair. “Like what if I kissed you..or something.” 
“Or something?” My chest tightens, stomach fluttering suddenly. 
“Mmhhhmm,” He hums, “What would happen then?” 
“Eleanor would have a field day.” 
Harry laughs, shoulders shaking a little as he giggles above me. He loosens his grip on my and pushes away to create a little space to see me again. 
“Oh yeah?” He teases. 
“Uh huh,” I smile, “She’d never let us forget it if she knew she was right.” 
“And what would she be right about?” Harry lifts his hand to cup my face, tilting it slightly to make sure I’m staring right up at him. 
“..Something..happening.” I whisper, “Having feelings for eachother.” 
Harry grins, cheeks a soft rosy between the outside cold and the new blush. He strokes the pad of his thumb against my cheek and beams down at me. 
“Oh yeah?” 
“Uh huh…” 
“Really..she’d be right about that?” 
“I’m pretty sure-” 
Before I can tease anymore, Harry’s leaning down to press his lips against mine. I inhale sharply, closing my eyes and looping my arms around the back of his neck to hold us in place. His hand still holds my face firmly, thumb fluttering over my cheek a couple times before he pulls away and we both breathe in deep. 
“She’s definitely right.” He smiles, tone turning serious for a moment. “I really like you Olivia.” 
Butterflies surge through my stomach for the millionth time since he walked through my door. Blushing and happy, I tighten my arms and push my face back into his shoulder. 
“I like you too H….just a little bit.” 
“We don’t have to tell anyone, just want this to be ours for a little while.” I can hear the smile in his voice as he leans back down to whisper into my ear. 
“I want this to be ours forever.” I hum, words quiet and part of me hoping he doesn't hear my honest confession. 
A comforting quiet settles over us. I remember how tired I really am as I melt further into Harry’s body, breathing in the sweet cinnamon and vanilla scent. His breathing lulls me half to sleep as I let my eyes flutter shut and bury my head further into his neck. I feel him lifting me up as my body relaxes against his and I catch his last few words before I he’s shifting me into his arms and walking us up the stairs. 
“I could hold you ‘n listen to your voice all night long, love.” 
. . . . .    
“Oh my god!” Julia yells out, unravelling a long shawl from pristine white tissue paper. “Okay whoever got me, thank you so much!” 
She continues to squeal a little as he wraps it over her shoulders and presses the end to her nose, inhaling the lavender scent of her favourite designer brand. 
I’d only spent one Christmas with the whole group before but it was clear secret Santa was a bit of a tradition. Between the six of us we all had other friends, family and mostly, relationships. Organising a secret santa within our group just relieved some of the stress of present buying - and it was fun. 
We’re all sitting around Harry’s living room, it felt the homiest  to us after all. The kiddy advent calendar I bought for him hung by the fireplace reading December 21st. We’ve all finished our egg nogs, meaning it was officially present time. Over the next few days we’ll all be driving up and down the country to visit family, meaning today’s the last day most of us will be seeing each other. Harry had whined about me leaving, begging me to stay another day with him or better yet - spend christmas with his family up north. 
It was when I told him my own parents were spending the holidays visiting my sister and her kids in New York that his campaign started. We kissed almost three months ago now and have been on a slew of dates since. Between all the secret dinners out, brunches and farmers market trips, we haven’t found time for the talk. We had no official title. I’ve heard Harry refer to me as “m’girl” a couple times when I’ve wandered into the kitchen and overheard him on the phone to mitch, but nothing he’s told me himself. Despite this, he still insists I have to come and spend christmas with him and his close family. The idea of me hanging out with my young cousins and distant relatives apparently doesn’t satisfy him. 
“Are you serious!” Eleanor gasps as she unwraps her own present. Everyone had picked the perfect gifts for each other this year. In a pure coincidence, I ended up with Harry’s name after Nick made me trade because he’d already bought Julia’s present for her. I’ve been nervous about it all evening, I was sure he’d like it, a little too sure. That was the problem. One night, wrapped up in Harry’s bed, he’d recalled his latest tragedy to me: He’d taken shroom with Mitch on his last trip to LA and subsequently decided to skinny dip in the sea, losing his favourite mustard cords in the process. The only times we’ve seen everyone else has been with the both of us present and , to my knowledge, he hasn’t mentioned this to anyone else. The brown paper package that sat on the coffee table could invite a few more questions that I was prepared to answer. 
“Harry, you’re next!” Ellie grinned, hugging her present to her chest. 
Thanks to our early secrecy, there’s been no opportunity to tell our friends we were dating. Eleanor hasn’t stopped her constant questioning but we’ve kept up a pretty good front of excuses. It was still freezing out so it made sense for us both to climb into his car together at the end of the night. Nobody had to know we would be going home to the same house where we’d climb into the same heavenly bed and scramble eggs together in the morning. 
“I’m going, I’m going!” Harry laughs as Ellie tries to hurry him up, playing perfectly into her role as the youngest in our group. 
He pulls the first fold of paper back with his ringed fingers and immediately looks up at me as the mustard fabric shines up at him. He grins wide, beaming back at me before pulling the rest of the paper back and laying the trousers out in front of him. 
“No babe...where did you find them?” He’s running his fingers down the cord, in awe to have his favorite trousers back - or at least a copy. 
I don’t miss how Eleanor and Nick’s heads turn to share a look of shock as the pet name tumbles out. Before I can put anything together, Harry’s standing and leaning over the coffee table. He wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a hug and whispering his thanks in my ear. 
“Wait I dont - how did you know it was h-” Julia pipes up, before she can finish she’s cut off by the joint gasps of Nick and Ellie as Harry plants a wet kiss to my cheek - then my lips, and laughs at our friends reaction. 
“I knew it!” Ellie yells, pointing frantically between the two of us, Harry now having stepped over the table and come to sit next to me, pulling me into his side.
“What was-” Julia stammers, “Since when!” 
Harry’s eyes flutter down to my face. He giggles quietly when he catches on to my glare. This wasn’t exactly how I’d imagined the evening going. 
“Have you just been lying to my face for the past three months?” Ellie asks, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting her lips. 
“Five,” Harry mumbles, almost just as an inside joke for the both of us to enjoy. I slap my hand against his shoulder to shut him up but the damage is already done. 
“Five months!” Even Theo’s joining in now. “How didn’t we know?” 
“It didn’t start out like this honestly, we would’ve told you.” I try and explain, eager for this to quiet down so we could get to the roast dinner waiting for us in the oven. 
“How did it start?” Nick pokes, drawing Julia and Ellie’s attention as the same puzzled expressions adorn their faces. 
“Unimportant,” Harry brushes off, standing up to tower over us all and reaching a hand back for my own. “We better get dinner, we wouldn't want burnt potatoes.” 
Harry pulls on my arm gently, leading me out the room before anyone can object. 
In the kitchen, he picks up a tea towel and starts to check on the food, prodding at the parsnips. I roll my eyes as he ties his lavender apron around his waist and tentatively pulls the potato tray from the oven. 
“Harry..” I sigh, trying not to laugh as he turn to face me, spatula in hand. 
“Yes dear?”  
“What was that?” 
“Oh - You’ve gotta shimmy a little spatula under the potatoes or they’ll break apart-” 
“No, obviously not that,” He makes it so hard so stay stern, a giggle leaks out as he lifts a hand to rest on his hip. “Why did you do that?” 
“I want them to know.” drops his utensils, tone sincere as he takes another step towards me. “I want our friends to know how much I love you already, and you remember about my mustard cords so..it felt like the perfect time.” 
“What?” I stutter, looking up at him from where he’s pulled me into his chest. His hands rest on my waist, rings a little hold against my exposed skin. 
“You remembered the trousers I lost last month in LA -”
“You love me?” 
His eyes go a little wide, a smile peaking through as the sides of his mouth quirk upwards. Realising what he just said, he lifts a hand from my waist to rest it against my face and lean down a little. 
“Of course I love you.” He whispers, his voice a little croaky and I can see tiny droplets gathering in his eyes that make my heart flutter. 
“Love you too..” I mumble. I wipe a thumb over his cheek before pulling him down into a kiss. I feel his smile against my own, and everything’s perfect for just a second. 
“So you’ll come to Christmas with me?” 
. . . . .
Hiii I hate the ending :)
Tysm for reading !! pls leave a like or reblog (it rlly helps <3) if you enjoyed it x
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passionate-reply · 4 years ago
Video
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Great Albums is kicking off Pride Month with a special feature on one of the weirdest and wildest queer artists of the New Wave era: the one and only Klaus Nomi! Combining glam, synth-pop, and opera, of all things, Nomi’s tragically short career is nothing short of mystifying. Check out the video or read the full transcript, below the break!
Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! In this installment, I’ll be looking at the self-titled debut album of one of the most unique, incomparable, and unforgettable artists in music history: the one and only Klaus Nomi. What is it that makes Nomi so noteworthy? Perhaps the most obvious thing is his background as a classically trained opera singer. While a lot of pop vocalists have some degree of classical training, it’s rare to find one who worked so hard to bring ultra-mannered, literally operatic lead vocals into an otherwise pop context.
The other thing I should mention is that Nomi’s voice part was the “countertenor,” giving his vocals an even more unusual dimension. Countertenors are men who sing in a high range usually covered by women, and even in the operatic tradition, they weren’t necessarily all that common, particularly since the rise of opera coincided with that of the infamous castrati--male singers who were castrated to preserve their prepubescent voices. The combination of partially electronic, New Wave compositions with these bizarre, but ultimately “traditional” vocals results in something that sounds simply otherworldly.
Music: “Total Eclipse”
“Total Eclipse” is probably Nomi’s best known track, due in part to being featured in the seminal concert film Urgh! A Music War, which sought to capture the diversity of the early 80s New Wave scene. Like a lot of classic songs of this era, it tackles the subject of nuclear annihilation, albeit with a nearly depraved, gleeful tone, that makes it feel like more of a party. For the verses, Nomi adopts a sort of rhythmic speak-singing, which was much more par for the course for “New Wave” music, only to shockingly explode into a powerful operatic rendition of the refrain. It reminds me a bit of how, in musical theatre, tension builds through spoken dialogue, before characters are so emotional they feel compelled to burst into song--or, of course, how recitative blossoms into arias in opera. In the context of this particular track, it’s easy to interpret it as an embodiment of how “cold wars” can suddenly burst into flame. While “Total Eclipse” was a new composition, written specifically for Nomi by Kristian Hoffman, this album also features several covers of past hits, such as “You Don’t Own Me.”
Music: “You Don’t Own Me”
Nomi’s covers of the Midcentury pop ditties “Lightning Strikes” and “You Don’t Own Me” repeat the structure of “Total Eclipse,” showing that this signature pattern of increasing tension leading to increasingly mannered vocals is just as effective when retroactively applied to pre-existing compositions. What’s also significant about “You Don’t Own Me” is that it was originally written for a woman, Lesley Gore, and its defiant assertion of self-confidence has long been associated with women’s liberation. Being openly gay, Nomi sees fit to leave the lyric “play with other boys” just as it is, and could be interpreted to be deliberately emphasizing that last word, intentionally queering his rendition of the song. Nomi’s ability to sing in a traditionally female voice range, combined with his eccentric, gender-bending personal aesthetic, makes the interrogation of traditional concepts of gender an integral part of his art. Some of the other covers on the album are even older than the Midcentury, coming from the golden age of opera, such as “The Cold Song.”
Music: “The Cold Song”
Also known by its opening lyrics, “What power art thou?”, “The Cold Song” is a rare operatic aria that was actually designed for the countertenor voice part. It was written by the English composer William Purcell, a noted fan of countertenors who lived outside the influence of the Italian castrati, for his 1691 opera King Arthur. Well, King Arthur is actually what’s sometimes called a “semi-opera”: not all characters sing, and those who do often tend to be supernatural entities. “The Cold Song” is sung by a winter spirit called the Cold Genius, when reluctantly awakened from icy slumber by Cupid. His lines are sung so as to stutter, as he shivers from the freezing cold of his surrounds. Unlike the pop covers on the album, the arias are actually played pretty straight, almost as if they serve as evidence of Nomi’s actual chops doing traditional opera the old-fashioned way. “The Cold Song” is certainly a great fit for Nomi’s unique stage persona, which presented him as a fey or elfin non-human visitor from some mythical Otherworld, or perhaps an extraterrestrial from outer space. This theme is addressed most directly by the one track on this album composed entirely by Nomi himself: “Keys of Life.”
Music: “Keys of Life”
“Keys of Life” is the album’s opening track, and perhaps serves as Nomi’s personal introduction to the people of our realm--a sort of musical “we come in peace” message. Its lyrics seem to portray Nomi as a benevolent visitor, but one with a dire warning for mankind: we need to get our act together soon, for our actions now are of great import, as we humans “hold the keys of life.” Perhaps Nomi’s mission is to prevent climate catastrophe on Earth, or, given the context of “Total Eclipse,” a nuclear apocalypse. With its warbling synthesiser backdrop, and Nomi singing fully in the operatic style throughout, “Keys of Life” is arguably the most experimental piece to be had on the album, and putting it as the very first track certainly pulls no punches.
It is, of course, difficult to fully address the significance of Nomi’s persona without getting into his visual identity. The cover of Nomi’s self-titled debut features his most iconic outfit: an oversized plastic tuxedo, with hugely exaggerated shoulders, and a pointed hairstyle with a bit of Streamline Moderne flair. I mentioned earlier that Nomi’s work seems concerned with gender, and in that context, I’ve often interpreted this look as a sort of caricature of masculinity, parodying men’s formalwear and calling attention to Nomi’s receding hairline. There is certainly something absurd about a high-pitched, perhaps feminine-coded voice emerging from a ludicrously masculine sort of character. The use of thin, shiny, reflective plastic, and the aforementioned Midcentury feel of the hairstyle, make me also consider interpreting it as less of a parody, and more of an alien’s bad attempt at adopting the appearance of an “ordinary,” upstanding, conservative human male in attire, using space-age materials to cobble it together.
The oversized, geometric appearance of Nomi’s garb reminds me of the great Dada poet, Hugo Ball, founder of the legendary Cabaret Voltaire. Ball was the inventor of what he called “sound poetry,” and enacted lively readings of poetry that consisted of entirely nonsensical words. He did this while wearing a strange, cylindrical-shaped cardboard suit, said to restrict his movements so much that Ball needed to be ceremoniously carried off stage when he was finished reciting. Given their shared German heritage and cabaret avant-gardism, I can’t help but wonder if Ball’s striking costume was something of an influence on Nomi here.
This album is, of course, self-titled, but that, too, is an artistic choice that can be analyzed. The artist was born Klaus Sperber, but adopted the stage name “Nomi” for his creative endeavours. In the context of the track “The Nomi Song,” the name is often used punningly in comparison with the English phrase “know me.” Nomi’s choice of stage name is almost a dare or a challenge, a request for us to attempt to know and understand this seemingly inscrutable being before us. As with many other portrayals of queerness as alien or otherworldly, the messaging here seems to be that Nomi may seem different at first, but his intent is ultimately benign, should mere mortals like ourselves be kind enough to give him a chance.
Nomi’s follow-up to this debut album was 1982’s Simple Man, an album which is much more similar to its predecessor than different. It has a wider variety of contributing musicians and different instruments employed, but it’s got a similar overall feel, and mix of tracks. You’ll find more covers, like “Falling In Love Again” and even “Ding Dong, The Witch Is Dead,” more original compositions, like the Hoffman-penned sequel to “Total Eclipse,” entitled “After the Fall,” and even some more arias, like this stunning rendition of another work of Purcell’s. Referred to here as simply “Death,” it comes from Purcell’s Dido & Aeneas, and is sung by the titular Carthaginian queen, Dido, as she prepares to commit suicide. Also called “Dido’s Lament” or “Thy hand, Belinda,” its darkly descending melody is as captivatingly ominous today as it was when it was written, over three centuries ago.
Music: “Death”
Sadly, Nomi became gravely ill at around this time, and his own untimely death was just around the corner. He died of complications of AIDS in 1983, at the age of just 44, leaving behind an unfinished opera of his own creation, Za Bakdaz, which would go unreleased until 2008. That, and a posthumous live album released in 1986, would be the only other works under Nomi’s name. As with all artists who die tragically young, we will always be left wondering what else Klaus Nomi might’ve accomplished in the ensuing decades. I find it hard to imagine a timeline in which this sound ever became particularly mainstream, but anything else Nomi came up with would have undoubtedly been fascinating.
My favourite track on Nomi’s debut is “The Twist.” Yes, this is indeed Chubby Checker’s “The Twist,” another one of those Midcentury covers that Nomi was so fond of. But compared to the rest of Nomi’s covers, this one is much more of a deconstruction, perhaps even a “piss take,” featuring a sparse instrumentation, centered around a lethargic bass guitar, and the overall pace is slowed to a crawl. Add in Nomi’s piercing vocals and some nearly demonic, chittering laughter, and you’ve got a track that turns a fun, light-hearted dance craze into a surreal nightmare. As difficult as it is to be the strangest track on an album like this, I have to give that honour to “The Twist.” That’s all for today--thanks for watching!
Music: “The Twist”
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3arzal · 4 years ago
Text
sincerity is scary (part 1)
nathan mackinnon / reader
3,200+ words (for this part at least)
friends to lovers. this turned out angstier than i originally planned in my head um...
warning for swearing
author’s note: many months ago, i said i was done with writing, then i clowned myself. this is the first time i’m writing an x reader type of fic because i used to write kpop bg pairings so idk how decent this will be lol. anyway, this is a highly personal and self-indulgent fic and something i’ve wanted to write for a very long time. to all my fellow hopeless-romantic tomboys out there waiting for their turn in love, this one goes to you. i said i was content with reading fics because i’m too lazy to write but oh well fucking shit.
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Your first memory including Nate was his fourth birthday party. It was a memory that makes you smile come a time that you think about it while spacing out. You remember it vaguely, but all the details don’t even matter. You remember sitting next to him at the big table as he blows his cake. There’s a picture of that somewhere in the photo albums in your parents’ house. You remember being the new kid in the neighbourhood, but you lived next to the MacKinnon’s. Even if Nate had a few friends from nursery, you eventually became his best friend. You were a shout away from him and all the details don’t matter, because until now that you’re both twenty five, you’re still the bestest of friends even if you lived in different American states--him in Colorado and you finally landing your dream job in New York City.
It was a special friendship that had been rock solid for twenty one years. You know he has a lot of people in his life now being the NHL superstar that he is. You know he considers some of the guys and some of his teammates as his best friends as well. All of that did not bother you to say the least. It was okay, because he was meant for great things and you were there to witness him achieve everything he longed and wished for since you were kids. You know you will always have a place in his heart, and him in yours, because that’s what best friends do, right? They’re each other’s biggest support system, away or together.
You were there in all of his home games, you spent almost all of your childhood with him in the rink, he gladly participated in any hobby you had at the time, and most of all, he made sure that if he had free time, it was all yours. You couldn’t ask for a better best friend and neither can he.
Now, as you sit in front of him in a hotel restaurant in the middle of Aspen at his birthday dinner on a trip he insisted you two take before the pre-season starts, you stare at him in part-shock-part-confusion as he lays his heart out on the table with a confession you did not see coming at all: “I guess I’ve been in love with you all this time.”
-
Now, see, you have always been Nate’s tomboy best friend. You were the girl who played hockey with him when you were kids and the girl who skateboarded all throughout middle school. You were the girl no guy has ever looked at like that, because you were different from all the pretty blondes and skinny girls and conventionally female specimen that boys would usually like. It didn’t bother you, not until high school anyway, when you finally crushed on some other guy that wasn’t in yours and Nate’s friend group. It was the biggest infatuation of your life so far, and when you realized he’ll never look at you like how he looks at the girls who wear skirts and tank tops, you gave up on even trying to feel.
“Are you seriously looking at skirts?” You remember Nate asking you one time you were both in the mall and he caught you lingering around skirts. You were both sixteen at the time, and he just got back from his morning hockey practice. You looked down on your usual oversized tee and baggy pants and your favorite pair of tattered Vans and thought, yeah, how can you even choose to wear a skirt willingly? It didn’t offend you or anything, his question was purely out of curiosity and not one of judgment. 
You shrugged at him, “Don’t you think it’s about time I dress more girly? I’m turning seventeen soon, and I still haven’t had a boyfriend.” 
“I dunno, you dress fine to me.” Nathan said then, and then it hit you--if Nate says you look fine then other people’s opinion shouldn’t even matter. He was your bestest friend, and you trust him because you have to. You should. But he’s still a guy, and you’re a teenage girl who’s becoming more self-conscious as the days go by because that’s how life goes when you’re sixteen and hormonal. You shrug it off, though, because looking pretty was the least of your concerns anyway.
The following year, you get asked out on a date by one of the guys you went to middle school with. He was decent, and you were consistently talking to him and hanging out the past summer. He made you laugh and he became such a charmer since you last met him when you were pre-pubescent kids. It was your first date ever, and a week before you were highly stressing out on what you should wear, on what you should do, because you were seventeen and had no experience being with someone other than, lo and behold, Nathan. 
He was away from you now, doing his hockey thing and being great, but phone calls were still consistent between the two of you, and after stressing out for two whole hours trying to rummage the internet for Tips On How To Nail Your First Date, you finally give up and whine to him over the phone.
“Him? You’re going on a date with him? Wasn’t he like...a wimpy kid back then or something?” His voice is tired on the other line. His team lost tonight, and you know he’s frustrated about it, but he doesn’t really talk to you about it because he chooses not to. You’re going to change that soon because you know he’s too hard on himself when he loses. He knows you’re there to listen if he wants to whine, but for some reason he never talks about a loss with you anymore. Not like he used to back when you were younger and you still lived near each other. 
“Nathan, be nice.” You rarely call him Nathan because to you he has always been Nate. It means you’re dead serious right now. You mess up your short hair and stare at all the possible clothing options you’ve laid out on your bed. It’s mostly t-shirts, the ones that are close to your actual size, and then you realized you have no jeans that actually fit because all of them are baggy ones.
“Wow, she’s calling me Nathan. Who’s that guy?” He calls from the other line. His speech is turning more slurry, like he’s already falling asleep but trying hard to fight it. “But seriously, why do you need to dress up, anyway? Your clothes are fine.”
“You’re not a girl, you wouldn’t understand.” You tell him in a moment of miniscule irritation--not with him, but with yourself, because it then hits you: you want to impress this guy. You want to appear different for him, because it’s  your first ever date, and finally someone’s looking at you and making you feel pretty--like a girl. “Oh my god…” You croak after spacing out, and you jump a bit when you hear Nate through the speaker phone, forgetting that he’s still on the other line.
“What’s wrong?”
“Holy shit. I just realized I’m finally trying to get in touch with my girly side. Seventeen years too late for that.” You snort at how ridiculous you’re being, at how silly this whole situation is because you’ve never tried to change who you were before attraction came in the way. You realized you were turning into a woman without knowing it, and it’s not really bothersome because you are a woman. It’s just something different from what you’re used to growing up even if you were no stranger to it having an older sister who is undeniably more female than you. Nate didn’t have any problem that you have a vagina but can also beat up any guy who picks on you for being such a tomboy. Nate loved it when you played hockey with him even if he beat you every time. He loved watching you skate, cackles when you fall down, but gets concerned as he should when you get scrapes and bruises. He’s fine with what you are--with the way you dress, the way you project yourself to people, the way you’re not just any other girl. You’re his best friend and he loves you just as you are.
You remember that time at the mall last year when you were looking at those skirts, you remember what he told you back then, and then you remember why it doesn’t matter what you wear on a date. If any other people can’t handle you the way that you are then they don’t really have to matter to you, too.
The date approaches and you give up, thinking if this guy talks to you and even ended up asking you out he should accept you as you are, right? 
You’re wrong, because three dates in all he ever did was subtly criticize everything you did. He was trying to groom you into the girlfriend you can never be for him, and that appalled you so much and hurt you at the same time. You think he’d be one of the few guys who’ll understand that as much as you want to, you can’t really change who you are for someone else.
Nathan was livid. “Fuck that guy. He’s nuts.” He crackles through one of your nightly phone calls. “He’s ugly, he sounds like a rat, and I bet he smells like--”
“Okay, enough.” You chuckle at his frustration despite feeling down the past few days post ‘break-up’. “It’s okay, really, but I’m not that girl for him.”
“You’re not. You’re like leagues cooler than him, anyway.”
“Damn right I am.”
-
In the following years as he started his NHL career in Colorado, and with you moving to New York for your job, you’ve only seen him a handful of times although the Facetimes were still consistent. The time difference was there, and even if your calls only lasted about ten minutes or so as you both caught up with your lives, it was enough. You didn’t need two hours with him on the phone, because yours and Nate’s friendship was as solid as an asteroid crater on land. It could be two years since you’ve last spoken to one another and when you do see each other again it’s like nothing has changed. You’re grateful for it, because with you having a new life in NYC and him making a home out of Denver, he’s still the one piece of Cole Harbour you have anywhere you go. 
You forget about dating as you focus on your job. You love it, and you love living in New York. You’ve made friends that you can already consider as family. You have a great life ahead of you and you know it. You watch Nate’s games when he’s in town. You meet him back home in Canada when you managed to get a week off from work. Life is good and steady. For a while you thought that the happiness you managed to find will last a long time, and it did...until it didn’t. That’s when you realized. 
-
Nate gets a girlfriend. Her name is incredibly girly and she’s fucking beautiful. 
The Facetimes and phone calls were less now, has been for the last couple of months, really, but that did not bother you at all because they were having a fantastic season and you understand his job comes first. 
What hurt you though was how he just dropped the news like a bomb through text. And you two never ever texted. You didn’t even get a scoop that he was seeing someone, never even mentioned anyone when you two manage to sneak in calls in between your busy schedules. It’s on a sad and dull Friday night when you were sulking on your couch because nobody was available to hang out with you to get a drink when the text comes.
‘Guess I have a gf now lol. Her name’s __’ Attached is a picture of her seated across from Nate on what appears to be a restaurant. 
You sit up in alarm, your heart beating a mile per second, followed by a heavy ache in your chest. You don’t know what to feel yet you’re feeling everything all at once--surprise, confusion, anger. The happiness is questionable. You sit there for a whole five minutes staring at the very random text when the text bubble appears on the screen.
‘You know it says when you’ve read my message ryt’
You don’t really know and you don’t really care right now. You want to yell at him and demand details, but you’re really confused as to why he’s texting when he usually just calls you. It was eight in the evening when you decided to sleep away the dull ache in your chest and that heavy heart of yours. You turn your phone on silent as you put it inside the drawer of your bedside table.
The following day you wake up at noon. You instinctively reach for your phone on the bedside table when your hands come up with nothing--and then you remember where you put it the previous night. You didn’t dare check it, though, because the moment you wake up you know the ache is still there. You remember those damn texts, you remember everything you’ve felt as you lie in your bed for hours when your mind and body refuses to shut down.
You skip breakfast because you weren’t really hungry, so you do your laundry instead. It leads to you cleaning your bathroom, and then that leads to cleaning your entire apartment, and when you managed to finish it was almost four in the afternoon. You were too tired to cook, so you munch on cereal. You chug several bottles of water after when you realize you haven’t had any the entire day. You take a quick shower. You switched on Netflix on your flatscreen and you managed to finish two movies. You stare blankly on the rolling credits as you feel your mind shut down. You’ve managed to avoid thinking about Nate and his new girlfriend for the entire day, and now that it’s evening again you feel every damn feeling come back. You finally decide to check on your phone. 
Fifteen messages and ten phone calls all from Nate. Funny how that turned out. You check some more and there were texts and a few calls from your sister and from a few friends from back home. You check that out first, and you were surprised that they all seem to ask you the same damn thing: You okay? Where are you? Nate texted me saying you weren’t answering your phone.
Ten phone calls left unanswered. 
Then you finally get to his messages:
‘Why you leaving me on read?’
‘Heyyyyyy’
‘y/n…..!!!!!!!!!’
‘I’m getting worried wtf’
‘Y u aint answering meeeee’
‘I’ve called five times!!’
‘TEN times!’
‘Are you okay?’
‘Holy shit where the hell are you’
‘Don’t joke with me like this I’m fucking serious answer your phone’
‘Even your sister can’t reach you’
‘What’s happening? Are you at a party and drunk off your ass in some dark alley in nyc?’ 
‘Jesus i don’t even know your friends there i can’t contact anyone to check on you’
‘Just please call me back asap. I’m fucking worried bc you always have your phone with u’
‘Hope you’re okay’ 
It’s kinda funny how he stopped trying, because you haven’t been on your phone the entire day as well and there weren’t any follow up texts or calls this day. You don’t know when the bitterness settled in but now you finally know what you feel and you feel bad that you’re feeling that way. Why are you reacting this badly? You don’t even know, but to calm his dramatic ass down you finally reply to him.
‘Sorry lol im sick i’ve been asleep and weak the whole day’
You jump on the call that lights up your screen immediately and you panic while thinking of ways to sound sick.
“Hey…”
“Jesus fucking christ.” Is how he greets you. “I’ve been worried sick the whole day.” You suppress a snort because you don’t know how true that is. “You okay?”
“Not really…” You try to croak. “Got a raging fever.”
“How long? Maybe you should go to the hospital. Don’t you have someone who can drive you?”
“Unlike you, I don’t have someone.” Is what slips out of your mouth before you can even think about it. You gasp at your own display of bitterness because that sounded harsher than you intended. You know he means well, and of course you know that he knows you have many friends in the city. He wasn’t specifically pointing out a boyfriend, but you sure are making things big. Stupid fucking bitterness. Stupid fucking jealousy. You tried to deny it, but when you’re close to crying over your best friend getting a girlfriend that he apparently hid from you, then you know what it really is after all. 
His silence is deafening and it’s the first time you’ve ever felt awkward with him and you’re not even together in the same damn place.
As the silence stretches on, you hear a voice in the background call out. “Nate? You coming to bed?”
And you beat him before he can voice out a reply to her, or to you. “I’m fine. I can take care of myself. You should go, I’m hanging up. Catch ya later.”
You don’t ‘catch up’ with him, not for another three days, and even then it’s still through text. Your last phone call had been two weeks prior to his girlfriend revelation. You tell him you’ve recovered from your (fake) fever and that you’ve been busy with work you missed. He tells you about his schedules and games and the new guy who’s recently traded to the Avs. There wasn’t another phone call for weeks to come and it’s weird not hearing his voice for more than a month. 
You’ve finally managed to put your jealousy aside as you try to ignore that, yes, you’re probably in love with Nate without you even knowing. Over the weeks that passed you’ve come to a very, very annoying realization that the reason why you don’t and can’t date is because no one will even compare to Nate. You’ve managed to put him on a pedestal when you really shouldn’t have but it’s hard when he’s the best guy you’ve ever known. He’s the only guy who understands you and knows you inside out. He has no judgement for who you are. He was the one you shared your entire life with and no one of the opposite gender will probably solidify himself on you as Nate did. You think life has been okay because it’s you and him against the world even if you’ve been long distance for a long time now. Him not telling you about this girl from the beginning really, really hurt you more than it should, but you will come to realize it’s the wake-up call you badly needed.
You’re fucking in love with Nathan MacKinnon and that scares you.
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jessconrad · 4 years ago
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Fine Line by Harry Styles: The Sunshine We Needed Through A Very Dreary Year
Or An Album Review (One Year Later)
On December 13, 2019, Harry Styles graced the world with his second studio album, Fine Line, and I don’t think it has ever left my Recently Played section on my Spotify account since its release.
I honestly don’t know how I would have survived 2020 without this album. As I reflect on everything this year had to offer, I realized this record will always shine through as it is tied to my best memories of the year.
I listened to this album a lot, with three of my five top songs from my Spotify Wrapped coming from Fine Line. (They were “Sunflower, Vol. 6″, “Golden”, and “To Be So Lonely”, respectively, if you were curious!)
I spent dull afternoons in January walking around the freshly snow covered ground on my college campus blasting “Lights Up” in my headphones. This single was released in October 2019, two months prior to the release of Fine Line, and had been a top favorite of mine with its 70s soulful style. Not to mention, the small choir of backup singers and layering synth gave me an almost nostalgic as the Christmas season started to come to an end. This song was all about finding who you are- and I was starting to figure out who I am with it.
The next month I visited Denver for a conference and I began noticing how this record was starting to become the soundtrack to my year. February’s track was “Sunflower, Vol. 6″ where I started to feel my attachment to this song. I am not sure if it was the mesmerizing lyrics, the drums, or even the Indian instrument known as a sitar that made me really hooked to this song... But as I walked through the streets of rainy Denver (which would normally make me feel very gloomy), I couldn’t help grinning from ear-to-ear as I listened to this song. It’s the feel-good musical track you listen to, in whatever mood you’re in.
Sometimes I can’t fathom how apocalyptic March felt. The beginning of March was completely normal, and I was at my peak. Looking back now, I can’t wrap my head around that I attended five live shows within one week during that month. But all good things come to an end, right? And of course suddenly, it all came crashing down. I was sent packing up my college freshman dorm and moved back home with my parents while juggling all my courses remotely. There was a song that I was always replaying though, and that was “Golden.” Arguably one of the most upbeat tracks on Fine Line, next to “Sunflower, Vol. 6,″ but the lyrics say otherwise. As the opening track, it has a very chill pop vibe, but listen closely to the lyrics. The contrast pulls at my heartstrings every. single. time.
“Cherry” and April go hand-in-hand for me. As I continued to navigate my thoughts and feelings with the pandemic, struggling with the course load of online courses, and overall the anxiousness of all the unknowns- “Cherry” was the comfort I needed. With its soft acoustic guitar, it is the perfect song for any in-your-feels playlist. And trust me when I say that the fragility of “Cherry” really helped me when I was in my feels. 
Arguably the biggest summer hit of this year was “Watermelon Sugar,” and my go-to anthem of wanting to feel any normalcy of a summer that I stayed mostly indoors for. I remember when the music video dropped in May, I was grabbing coffee with a friend and begged her to watch the video with me. We sat in her car in the middle of a park, watching the YouTube video count down to the premiere of “Watermelon Sugar”. That “this video is dedicated to touching” opening message made me laugh and realized how truly brilliant Harry’s mind is. The warm, very enjoyable tune made this the perfect summer anthem with its really good electric guitar and slide guitar mixed with the horn. It’s the one song that will stay in your head for weeks.
Another song that feels like summer to me is “Canyon Moon.” In the end of June, I went ‘glamping’ (otherwise known as glamorous camping, we stayed in a very nice tiny house in the middle of the most wooded area that Nebraska could get) with my family. It’s a very upbeat song with a nostalgic feel, and the fun instrument rhythms can’t help but make you beam. The song also experiments with a dulcimer; a musical instrument with a long rounded body and a fretted fingerboard played by bowing, plucking, and strumming. I think this is what makes the song more upbeat and happy, especially the beginning as well as the slide guitar giving it unique sounds throughout. It personally is one of my least favorites on the album, but it does make me think of warm summer days and spending time with family every time I do listen to it.
July was starting to feel a little rough for me again. I was really getting tired of staying indoors and barely seeing any of my friends. I was really longing to go back to school and being around my people again. “To Be So Lonely” was a song that felt like it really understood me. Harry revealed in an interview with Rolling Stone that the song was composed on a guitalele, which resembles the sound of guitar, for that light and upbeat tone that the chords give off, backing the lyrics. It’s the perfect song you listen to when you’re sad, and you’re ready to push past it. And I knew that I was ready to push past my sadness because I had one more month until I was surrounded in community.
“Adore You” was the second single of Fine Line that was released. This song is filled with so much love and passion- and it was the same immense feelings I had in August when I got ready to move back to my college town and see all my friends again. As I packed my bags and moved into my sorority house, I constantly played this song. What can I say? This was a really great song to vibe with, especially with the opening keyboard and the consistent bass that you cannot help but groove to!
Out of all the months of this year, surprisingly September was one of my darkest. With only two weeks living into my sorority house, I made the decision to move out for the safety of mine and my family’s health. I moved back in with my parents again during this month, and I felt completely lost. “Falling” had the same underlying message of being lost. This love ballad displays a theme of brokenness and creates a tone of unhappiness- the perfect song for a post-breakup or an in-your-feels playlist. I had this song on repeat more times than I can count- the soft piano setting a broken and lonely tone. 
The beginning of October began to really turn around for me. I moved into an apartment with one of my best friends and I was back in my college town. I was starting to find community again and “Treat People With Kindness” became this month’s anthem. Coined after Harry’s Treat People With Kindness (TPWK) campaign, this song has a 1970s sound and makes you want to dance along with the catchy choir lyrics such as “Maybe we can/Find a place to feel good/And we can treat people with kindness”. The lyrics were very prevalent in my life, especially with the amping news of the presidential election and the continuation of the pandemic. This song was the best reminder to be kind to myself, and those around me. And let’s not forget the conga sound throughout! I believe Queen would have been very proud of this underrated track.
The timeless mature sound of “She” could have not fit November anymore. I celebrated my twentieth birthday this month (which of course included a Harry Styles themed birthday party with my roommate and some close friends). The guitar kicking in at the chorus giving so much emotion to Harry’s voice, and that’s exactly how I felt around my birthday. Lots of emotions. Not to mention, the guitar solo played by Mitch Rowland sounds like it could have been something that was released years ago, with a little modern touch. It’s growing to be one of my personal favorites on the album.
Lastly, we get to December and I felt as if this year was the longest year of my life (but also flown by way too quick). The song that resonated with me most this month was “Fine Line,” the last track of the album (and the longest at 6 minutes and 16 seconds). My favorite memories in December consist of driving around with my friend, looking at all the Christmas lights as we drink hot cocoa and blast “Fine Line”- singing our hearts out to the repetitive lyrics of “we’ll be fine line” and “we’ll be alright.” Harry discussed in an interview with Capital FM that this song would always be the last on the album, and how fitting that I resonated with this song most in the last month of the year. “Fine Line” represents the ups and downs of life, and the thin line that separates the two. This song that includes an orchestra, drums, horn, acoustic guitar, and melodies building in the background, it could not be the most perfect finale to the album- and to the year 2020.
Today is December 13, 2020- exactly one year after Fine Line has been released. Since then, Harry Styles has made headlines from petty to political. He has shown up for Black Lives Matter, cared for our sleeping habits by releasing an audio bedtime story, made us feel confident in wearing whatever we want as he appeared as the first solo male on American Vogue- all while accomplishing some of his greatest achievements with this album: releasing five music videos, being nominated for three Grammys, and climbing the music charts and catching the hearts of critics. 
But Harry accomplished something even greater- he made an album that made us feel good when it was nearly impossible to. To put it frankly- Fine Line was my comfort album, and I know that it was a lot of other people’s too. And as we step into the new year, with the help of this album, it does in fact feel like... we’ll be alright.
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daggerzine · 4 years ago
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Sunday Runners.....the Corvair interview.
The music of Corvair fell into my hands recently thanks to Heather Larimer, who makes up one half of the band. The Portland duo, comprised of Larimer and her husband Brian Naubert (and drummer Eric Eagle for the recordings) haven’t been around for too long but being together a lot the past year or so gave them plenty of time to work on songs. I was a big fan of Larimer’s previous band, Eux Autres, and wondered if they were still around (see the first question) so was anxious to hear Corvair. I really liked what I heard. A healthy dose of all things 1970’s, 80’s and 90’s and not quite new wave, note quite indie rock but 100% deluxe. The S/T record, which was released in February, was a co-release between their own label and WIAIWYA label in the UK.  Read on and find out the history of the band, where they’ve been and where they’re headed. Oh and make sure you listen to their music.
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 Heather and Brian and Brian and Heather 
Tell us about the end of Eux Autres. Why did that band end?
It actually has not officially ended. While Sun is Sunk was coming out, we left SF because it felt like that city as we knew it was dying—all the artists we knew were moving out, and I moved back to Portland and Nick to LA. Then I had a baby and then Nick had a baby and then soon we each had another baby. With 4 little kids among us, it became really hard to fly back and forth to work on new material. We tried it for a couple years and then one day we calculated that at our pace, the record we were making would take 5 years. So we just kind of gave each other permission to prioritize other projects. Nick is working on some songs I truly love right now. They’re a real gut punch.
 …and about the beginning of Corvair. How/when did the band form?
We had known each other for many years and then we got married three-ish years ago and suddenly neither of us had other musical projects going on. So we kind of shrugged and said, what if we worked together? We would sing in the car or while cooking or whatever so we knew our voices sounded great together. Then it was just a matter of figuring out what sort of project it would be. We went into the studio with a session drummer (Eric Eagle) in late 2019 and then a few months later, the pandemic suddenly gave as a LOT of time to make progress on the tracks. So the creative center of the record was defined in a weird apocalyptic bubble. But it was helpful to have that break with reality as we knew it, because we’ve both made a lot of records, and I suppose that could have somehow blunted our ambition or our edges. But we just hit the “fuck it” button and gave ourselves over to it completely. We were very nervous to mix, because no one else in the world had heard it, and we thought it was great, but we also could have been in a shared hallucination. Really, we’d be the last to know.
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 The debut....
Who came up with the name? I have always loved those cars.
Brian’s mom drove a Corvair with a hole in the floor. They would drive it on the special outings to the beach, the weekend adventures. So it was a very romantic car, and the name is just very nice to say. It makes you feel good. Both of us had been in bands with names that were a nightmare to tell someone  in a crowded club, or really anywhere (Eux Autres and Ruston Mire). You’d have to repeat it 3 times, then explain it, and then they just kind of shrug with pity. We vowed to have a band name anyone could understand the first time.
 Did the WIAIWYA label approach you about releasing the record (or co-releasing it)?
John had approached Eux Autres right after our second record and so we did an EP (Strangled Days) with him and then we were on his label ever since. Late last summer, I posted a picture of Brian and I holding the CD Master on my Instagram and John said, what the hell is this? And then I emailed him the record and he wrote right back: “It’s RAD Heather!” I’m not sure if he was making fun of me by saying “rad”--probably, actually. I think I used to say it a lot. But he immediately wanted to put out the record. Nick and I had some really great times in the UK and Europe thanks to John and he has a very devoted audience, so Corvair felt it was a great fit for us.
 Is the Pink Room your own studio?
Yes, it is literally a room in our house that is pink. Brian has been making records at home for most of his life, since he was about 14. And despite having done fancier stuff like making studio demos for Columbia several times and recording with Peter Buck in a nice place, he really prefers to work at home because he likes to spend a ton of time on overdubs—they’re not even really “overdubs,” more like a second wave of writing for him. And I had found being in the studio very stressful in the past because I’m not a technically proficient musician and that makes me self-conscious. So I was grateful to be in the privacy of my own home, in my soft pants.
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 Single from last year
Did the songs on the album come fairly easily or did you feel like you labored over them?
The initial writing of them came very easily and fast. Brian did a couple of 30 day writing challenges where he wrote several songs a day. But then once we laid down the basic tracks, we spent a ton of time building them and experimenting with them. We actually recorded probably twice as many parts as we ended up using. And half of what we did in the mix was kill things. In fact, we cut five totally finished songs from the record. 
 Tell us about making those videos? Were you freezing?
Consistently very very cold, yes. Ironically, the one in the snow (Green Mean Time) was the warmest because we were properly dressed. But the ocean ones were just brutal. Especially Sunday Runner. The video was Brian’s idea, he had a very specific vision and made it sound all easy: OK, just go down to the beach and dance for 90 seconds. And I was like, huh?!? And then I kept falling down and got absolutely soaked to the bone. When we finished shooting, I couldn’t feel my hands or feet and he was steering me down the beach with his coat wrapped around me and these little kids were staring horrified, like, Mom what’s wrong with that lady?
 Prior to the pandemic had you played out live much? Done any tours?
We have never ever played live as Corvair. Which is just wild. We will likely be recording this next album before we even have a line-up for performing. But we are very excited to play together. Likely this fall. Hopefully John will bring us to England soon so we will have a great excuse to get it together.
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 What are your top 10 desert island discs?
 Brian:
David Bowie - Ziggy Stardust
David Bowie - Low
Nada Surf - Let Go
Brian Eno - Another Green World
Pink Floyd - Dark Side of The Moon (yeah I know, but I don’t care)
 Heather:
GBV  - Alien Lanes
Kinks  - Village Green
Elliott Smith - Either/Or
Radiohead - Kid A
Ruston Mire - Steady Jobs and Flying Cars
  Who are some of your favorite current bands, local otherwise?
HL: I’m interested in the Dry Cleaning juggernaut. And I really dig Deep Sea Diver, Cloud Nothings, Courtney Barnett, Big Thief/Lenker. And then, I’m also very ready to embrace a new angry band whose music makes you think your stereo is broken when you play it--I’m taking suggestions.
 BN: Alt J, Elbow, Doves, Metric, Foals, Snail Mail
 What’s next for the band?
HL: We are recording this summer and trying to put some sort of live outfit together ASAP. Trying to stay out of the ocean for a while. 
 Closing comments? Words of wisdom? Final thoughts?
Thank you so much for having us! 
 www.corvair.bandcamp.com
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sunflowerstache · 5 years ago
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Life Is A Highway
Day 1: While Taking a road trip, Harry looks back on fond memories with his love A/N: I am beyond proud of this piece because it’s completely different than my usual style of writing! I really hope you enjoy it! Please make sure to show some love to your favorite writers and their pieces during this event! Everyone participating is out of this world talented and I can’t wait for you all to read their pieces! Happy Summer!
Word Count: 3.7k 25 Days of Summer Masterlist Find the rest of my writing  here!
There are certain moments in life that highlight every decision you’ve made, reminding you how lucky you are to be living the life you’re in. It’s almost like watching specific memories vividly play through your mind while doing the most mundane activity, and for Harry, that moment came while driving down the backroads of Tuscany.
For the last eight days, the region had been a breathtaking refuge for he and his little love; hiding out from any prying eyes or questioning glances. As those eight days came to a close, they were now moving on, heading south to Positano in hopes of finishing off their vacation surrounded by some of the most beautiful scenery the world had to offer. But, it was proving difficult for Harry to find anything more beautiful than the view to his right.
It seemed the vacation had been giving his girl’s skin a bit more of glow each day, because sitting next to him, with the Italian sun slowly setting behind her while delicately singing along to the music floating through the car, he swore he was looking at an angel. How someone could look so breathtaking doing absolutely nothing, and the fact that he got to wake up each morning and spend his days with his own angel on Earth, was beyond him. From the moment he first laid eyes on you, he knew he was done for, that everything else in life would pale in comparison to how he felt when he looked into her eyes that day in Going Underground Records.
Harry was on his way to lunch with a few friends in Malibu when he passed the record shop. The decision to stop inside was such a rash one that the cars behind him beeped multiple times when he abruptly turned his steering wheel and zoomed into the parking lot. It was a small place on Melrose Ave, the front of the store mostly glass so he could see there weren’t many people, which calmed him slightly. He had just come back from Jamaica, hiding away there for weeks to get as inspired as he could for his first album, but his fans were getting antsy. It had been two years since he had released any sort of music and he couldn’t blame them, he was getting anxious as well. But anytime he was seen out, the tabloids and fans would be speculating if new music was even coming at all, and he hated it. Music was coming, they just had to give him some time!
So, when he walked in and the two older men and one woman, who seemed to be looking for something for someone else - based on the constant glances between a piece of paper in her hand and the records in front of her - didn’t offer him a second of their time, he smiled gratefully. He wasn’t cocky and didn’t assume that they were going to know who he was, he just always aired on the side of caution when it came to going out in public alone.
A young, bald, man behind the counter gave him a solid nod as he walked past the register, taking in the hundreds of records all around the store. It wasn’t nearly as extravagant as some of the shops he’d been in over the years, and he had to admit, he had most of the vinyls he saw during his journey through the store, but he still loved to look. Always wanting to find new music and artists to inspire him.
“That’s a great album.” a tender voice spoke from beside him, startling Harry slightly.
A younger girl had appeared out of nowhere it seemed, hair filled with sparkly barrettes, a faint smile on her lips; wearing an oversized, white, Dolly Parton t-shirt tucked into a pair of denim shorts. She was paying him no mind, focusing on the stack of records tucked under her arm, like a schoolgirl with textbooks, and putting them back in the correct sections. From what Harry could only assume by how easily she could find certain genres and artists, she worked there, and he was immediately consumed by how her face would light up each time she came to a new album she liked as she was putting them away.
“Huh?”
During his time taking her in, she had moved from his side to standing directly across from him, now being separated by an island of records.
“Crosby, Stills, and Nash.” she said, looking up at him and nodding towards the album he didn’t even realize he had stopped at. “It’s an amazing album.”
“Oh, um, yeah. I suppose.” why was he finding it so difficult to string words together?
“You suppose?!” her exclamation was so loud that the two remaining customers in the store lifted their heads to look in their direction, “They’re one of the best bands of all time! Did you know each of them have been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame twice? For each band they’ve been in? Or that Woodstock was only their third show together?”
She had set her own stack of records down on top of the shelf where she was standing, focusing on getting her point across rather than completing her job. Harry had known the girl, and saying he knew her was a stretch, for just under three minutes, but he was enthralled. The way her eyes lit up as soon as she started talking about the music she loved, how he could hear her humming an unknown tune while she was standing next to him, or how she obviously didn’t care about what people thought if she was okay with yelling at customers about her favorite band.
“I actually didn’t know that, no. Pretty sick.” he agreed, picking up the album and pretending to look at the list of songs on the back
“I suggest giving Helplessly Hoping a listen first. It’s my personal favorite. Especially with the windows down on a roadtrip” she smiled.
“I will. ‘S a good idea.” Harry nodded, picking the record up and deciding to buy it, despite having multiple copies of it in his homes across the world. He just couldn’t bare the thought of putting the record down and potentially seeing her face fall. So, he took his wallet out of his back pocket, and lifted the record up so the girl could see he was going to take her advice and purchase the album. But just as he was about to turn to pay, she spoke up.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Confusion covered his features. Was she saying you’re welcome to a ‘thank you’ he had never said? And she must have seen his questioning look, because she let out a small giggle, shaking her head.
“It’s on the house. Hope you enjoy some good, classic tunes.”
The movement of her hand shooting out of the window and a small, barely there squeak, brought Harry’s attention back to the present time, watching as she moved her hand like a wave in the wind as the car sped down the winding, rural roads. The beginnings of a soft hum of the familiar song made the smile on his face grow as he noticed that same love in her eyes that she had years ago while pushing him to buy the album.
It had become their song, one that could be found on each of their playlists, one that was hummed while making breakfast in the mornings, one that they had a bit of framed - the words “They are one person. They are two alone. They are three together. They are for each other” - hanging above their bed, and consistently heard playing through their home.
The home that they just celebrated their third holiday season together in, one that holds their new four legged fur baby, and is always being redecorated. It seemed like just yesterday that the two had been cuddled up in her apartment, talking about what they hoped the future would hold, when he accidentally took the plunge and inadvertently asked what he’d been thinking about for months.
Because of One Direction, Harry had spent more time than he can remember in California, soaking up the sun at all times of the year, enjoying it just a bit more than usual when it was snowing back home in England. But he had to admit, spending so much time in the Golden State had changed him, so much so that he was still cold, even with his jumper, throw blanket, and his love cuddled up to his side, two cuppas steaming in their hands and the thermostat reading 20°C. Who had he become? He used to bare the 7°C cold winters back home in England like they were nothing, and now he was shivering at the thought of leaving the warm bed.
“Can’t believe ‘m dating a girl who insists on sleeping with the AC on during the winter.” he mumbled, burying his face into her hair.
“I like to be chilly. Makes me sleep better.” she laughed, digging her nose deeper into his chest.
“It absolutely does not. What about waking up in the middle of the night to make sure my toes haven’t fallen off is better than a peaceful, warm sleep?”
“Toes won’t fall off, stupid! I don’t keep it Antartic in here! Just a little cool. So we don’t have to sweaty cuddle.” she lifted her head, now resting it on top of his chest so that she could stare at him with a smile that still blew him away every morning that he got to see it.
But he didn’t want to guess when the next morning he got to roll over and see her peaceful form sprawled out on the majority of the bed, hogging most of the massive duvet and ankles locked with his. He wanted to know that every single time he closed his eyes at night, she was laying next to him, permanently. And that train of thought is what caused his next words to easily fall from between his lips.
“Yeah, well, when we move into a new place, the bedroom’s gotta stay a bit warmer, doll.”
He realized what he had said no more than a second after he said it, and instantly began panicking on the inside. He knew what saying that could cause. They had only been together for a few weeks short of a year, just getting past the honeymoon phase and settling into the comfort and reality that is true love. And as much as the pair loved each other, a year didn’t seem like a lot of time to decide to move in together. Plenty of people were together for years before even considering taking that step, so he focused on keeping his breathing steady and internal panic to a minimum, so that she wouldn’t see how scared he was of what he just admitted.
But none of what he was expecting came. She just continued looking at him like he was the rising sun in her sky, the smallest smile playing on her lips, foot still rubbing up and down his calf. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Throughout their year long relationship, she never once acted the way he was so used to other girls acting; never making any accusations or jumping to conclusions, never getting upset for his busy schedule or amount of commitments, and never letting him forget why she loved him so much. So, this reaction shouldn’t have surprised him.
“Y’wanna live with me?” she asked, voice quiet like if she spoke too loud, she would wake the sleeping birds who had made a home right outside her bedroom window.
“Been thinking about it for months now.” Harry confessed, heartbeat finally slowing down a bit once he realized he had nothing to be so nervous about.
“What, had to wait it out a bit longer to make sure I wasn’t too insane? See if my hidden crazy 1D fan side came out?”
Harry’s head rolled to the other side of the pillow, snorting as he thought about his girlfriend secretly fangirling over him every night once he fell asleep.
“‘Cause I hate to break it to you babe, but I was a total Niall girl. If we met in like 2013, you wouldn’t have stood a chance.” her tone was completely serious, but that familiar joking fire was clear behind her eyes, daring him to think anything more of her comment.
“I think I have to agree. He really is quite the stud.”
Hearing his love laugh at his continuation of her joke was music to Harry’s ears, and he could bask in it all day, like the warm rays of the sun licking at one’s skin on the shore. And he would do anything he could to make sure he got to hear it every day for the rest of his life. His hand came up and rested on the back of her head, gently squeezing in a massage motion.
“Wanted to make sure I didn’t scare you off, saying it too soon.” he admitted finally, staring deep into her eyes.
And she just stared right back, like she always did, never afraid to hold her ground when talking to him. It was something he admired about her, how much she trusted her gut and knew when to speak her mind, and it taught him to make sure he was only doing things that made him truly happy, no matter what anyone else would think.
“We were on magazine covers two months into our relationship, not much you can do to scare me off at this point.”
“No?” he smiled, remembering how calm she acted when he burst through the door that Tuesday morning, frantically trying to explain to her how he and his team would take care of anything caused by those pap shots. While he was pacing in front of her, she continued to eat her cereal and read her book, like the world now knowing Harry Styles had a new girlfriend was the most mundane thing to ever grace her perfect little ears.
“Nah. As long as you let me keep the room a lil cold, gives us an excuse to cuddle every night… roomie.” she smiled brightly, abruptly flinging her body higher up on the bed so that she could attack his mouth with her own.
There was nothing Harry was more thankful for than that accidental slip up, because it brought them even closer and a beautiful two years in their home. Being with her was like living a fairytale, and he was mesmerized watching even the simplest things, like her skin care routine, how she had to keep the magazines on the coffee table in a certain order, and the subtle sway of her hips when it was her turn to fold laundry.
He had never felt any of these feelings when with other people, and he finally understood why people describe being in love as ‘falling’, because even getting the smallest glance of her from across a room made him feel like crumbling to his knees, at her mercy no matter what she asked of him. And as much as he loved that feeling, wanted to bottle it up and bathe in it, he was also scared. The idea of someone having so much power and control over his heart, being able to completely shatter his entire world in the blink of an eye, wasn’t something he liked to think about. Especially not involving her. But sometimes, the late nights and fears got the best of him, and thinking is all he could do. And most of the time, those thoughts were squished the second he stepped through their shared front door and he saw her waiting up for him on the couch, sleepy eyes but excitement to see him. Until they weren’t.
“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you Harry, I’m not going anywhere!” the vein in his sweetheart’s neck was becoming more and more prominent as the yelling continued.
He was thankful she no longer lived in a small apartment, surrounded by other renters, because the intense yelling at that late hour would have raised a few red flags. He wasn’t trying to create such a tense atmosphere, but he couldn’t help it. It had been a tough day figuring out the final details of his first world tour since One Direction splitting up, and the thought of coming home to his favorite girl and explaining what was in the works, only made him more anxious. How was he supposed to leave for nearly a year and expect his girl to still be waiting when he came back? Surely she would realize how much better she deserves and he would end up coming home to an empty house.
“I don’t think you understand how lon-”
She cut him off mid sentence, “No, Harry, I do understand! You think I don’t understand how long you’ll be gone? How many nights I’ll have to settle for a Facetime call instead of a goodnight kiss? How I have to explain to my friends that my boyfriend won’t be with me because he’s across the planet?”
All of the points she was making only made him feel worse about himself, and the fears he was harboring only seemed to expand as she continued to list her realizations.
“But if any of those fucking things mattered to me, Harry, I woudn’t be standing here arguing with you! I would have packed my shit up the second you told me about this tour and never looked back!”
“You say that now, but three months in and you’re still coming home to an empty house can change things real fucking quick!”
He never meant for things to escalate like this when he expelled his concerns the moment she stepped out of the bathroom, towel still wrapped around her body and water dripping from her hair. Hell, she hasn’t even made it halfway when it all started; the pair standing just the foot of the bed. But it was like the second his eyes met her figure, he was unable to keep anything to himself. His love had always exuded this aura that turned his insides to much, like he was under a spell and was unable to hold back anything from her. And in that moment, he cursed her ability to pull that out of him.
She let out a loud sigh, hanging her head and pinching her nose between two fingers, as if this conversation with her boyfriend was the most stressful thing she’s ever had to do. “Why is it so hard for you to understand that I don’t want anyone else? Why can’t you just accept that I’m going to love you through the worst of everything, no matter what?”
Harry had never really pinpointed the exact moment all of these fears were cast away in the darkest corners of his mind, it was like one day, he realized he had them, and they wouldn’t go away. There wasn’t a moment in time or harsh end that stunted his emotional growth; it was different parts of each failed relationship, cumulatively joining forces over time to knock him down, time and time again. And when he was finally able to stand back up and see just how perfect the girl he was planning to spend forever with was, they roared their ugly heads ten times stronger than ever before, scaring even himself.
“Because I’ve never known what that feels like.” he finally responded, eyes glossy and voice thick with the oncoming breakdown that was moments away..
Just as Harry blinked away his first round of tears, she moved to stand in front of him, hands cupping the sides of his face and wiping away the tears rolling down his cheeks with her thumb. “I’ll keep reminding you how much I love you until time runs out, baby.”
And she kept her promise, not only telling, but showing Harry how deep her love for him ran. Hearing any variation of those words slipping from between her perfect lips warmed him from the inside out, just as the Italian sun was doing to them both as they drove down the picture perfect roads. He never took for granted how accepting she was of every decision he made for his career, how easily welcomed into his family she was;better than he ever could have imagined, or how she never failed to make him belly laugh. Harry had always been a hopeless romantic, but never truly believing in only one person, in the entire world, being made specifically for him.
Until he met her.
Every moment since that day in Going Underground Records, had been building to this story arc, creating a tale that would be unbelievable unless experienced for oneself. Because how was he supposed to accurately put into words the feeling of seeing the love of his life laugh at the corniest joke he’s ever told? Were their words yet invented to describe how fast his heart beat when hearing her sing in the shower? What would he say to explain the hope coursing through his veins when watching her chase his toddler cousins around the yard? Who would believe him when he said his girl was the most beautiful angel to ever grace the planet? Could he articulate all of that.
“Hey.” her voice was loud during the song change, and her hand squeezed his on the center console, both grabbing his attention quickly. “You alright?”
“Yeah.” Harry sighed, more content with his life than he had ever been.”I love you until time runs out.”
He couldn’t, because no amount of words he could string together would be enough to show his love and gratitude for the girl sitting next to him. Nothing would do her justice. But he would spend his entire life trying his damnedest to show her.
He just hoped the four words and finger sized gift he had planned for the end of their vacation was enough to begin explaining it all.
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thewritingstar · 5 years ago
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ROCK’in around the Christmas Tree-Secret Santa Gift
so for the Secret Santa (on one of the servers lol) I got the lovely @michiamotippete !!!!!!!!
I whipped up a little Kiribaku holiday fluff (and minor steam) for you and I hope you enjoy this and Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
For the @kuroshironekoserver event!!!
---
The cool cold air had taken Japan over during the winter months. Decorations for the beloved holidays had covered their city and everyone was rushing to finish their holiday shopping as Christmas day approached. 
Kirishima found himself inside the mall along side Mina and Sero. It was rare for them to have free time together since being a pro hero meant being on duty for most of their time. Of course Kirishima wanted all his presents to have meaning, but he desperately needed to find one for his boyfriend. 
Believe it or not, Bakugou was hard to shop for. He went ahead and let everyone else give him All Might merch and shirts but he didn’t want to fall under that category. Though he did buy themselves matching Ground Zero and Red Riot items because he knew he secretly loved flaunting his own stuff and not so secretly wearing his boyfriends. 
But he still need the gift. Ya know the big present that you save for last, the one that makes next year's presents even harder because you have to outdo yourself? The gift that makes the person receive it blush slightly as they try their best not to cry. The gift to end all gifts and makes you wanna spend the rest of your life wrapped in their arms? Yeah that. 
Easy peasy ...right?
“I don’t know why you’re worried bro, just sit naked on the bed and tie yourself up, he’ll like that.” Sero said and the heat rose to Kirishima's face before pushing him to the side. 
“Just because that's all you’re doing for Denki, doesn’t mean that will work for me.” Kiri quickly said and the boys went back and forth teasing before Mina complained about her shortage of caffeine, making them stop and get some coffee. 
“I still don’t know.” 
“Get him a rock.” Mina said. 
“I am not giving Bakugou a rock.” He stated and shook his head as he downed his coffee. 
“Well i'm out of ideas.” Mina shrugged and pulled them into another store. 
“Gee you’re so helpful.” Kiri shot back sarcastically. 
They trio ended up leaving the mall a few hours later. Each of their arms carried a few bags but even out of all the gifts, not a single one was for Kirishima's beloved boyfriend. 
“Don’t pout hun. I’m sure the perfect idea will come to you! You still have a week or two left. He’ll love anything you give him because he loves you.” Mina smiled as she kissed both of their cheeks good bye and hopped off the train with Sero as their stop was before Kirishimas. 
“Thanks Mina. See you all soon.” He waved goodbye and before long, he was departing the train as well. 
---
“What's with that face?” Bakugou asked as he stared intently at Kirishima. 
The red head broke from his daze as he refocused his attention on his explosive boyfriend who was currently ranting about being forced to work with Deku for the third time this month. 
“Oh uh nothing babe, sorry, just tired I guess.” He shrugged it off but it didn’t seem to get past Bakugou. The blonde let it slide for now as he finished up his homemade curry and brought his plate to the sink just as Kirhsima followed.
Kirhsima could feel that Bakugou was holding back from asking about his bluff so he did the only thing he knew to distract him, he poked his side. 
A sinister smirk grew on the red heads face as he saw Bakugou's hand tightened on the sponge and the signature scowl appear. 
“Ei.” He said with a dangerous warning but Kirishima was already gone with his playful mind and poked him again causing the blonde the drop the plate and drag him off to their room neglecting the dirty dishes. All Kiri could do was laugh as he was tossed onto the bed. 
“Don’t test me.” Bakugou snarled but it wasn’t meant as a threat but more...loving.
Pushing his limits, Kirishima sat up tapped Bakugou's nose. 
“Oops, hope I don't end up on the naughty list this year.” He winked before he was met with a deadly smirk and crimson red eyes. 
“Guess we’ll find out.” Bakugou let out a dark laugh. 
---
The next week came faster than the winter breeze and Kirishima still had not found the gift. He spent the morning going on a solo run as Bakugou was called into work early and he had a few hours until his own patrol started. 
His mind was racing for ideas but all the good ones had been taken. Two years ago he gave them matching promise rings, a thick black band and Baugous had an orange accent while his had red. The year before that was a photo album and poems he had written about him during their years at U.A and even the year before that he had creative gifts. 
But this one was big. It was their second year as pro heros and their fifth year officially together, though Mina likes to joke that they had been dating since that day they competed together in the sports festival. Somehow, he believed her. 
But now his thoughts went back to what Mina had said at the mall and a small smile came to his face. He checked his calendar and saw that he had three days until Christmas, enough time. He smiled as he popped his headphones back in and began to jog off his designated path and towards the perfect gift. 
---
The sun peered through the curtains as it stirred Kirishima awake. His arms tightened around the waist of his boyfriend and he nuzzled his nose deeper between the crook of the blondes neck. 
“Merry Christmas.” Kirishima sleepily slurred in Bakugou's ear and he was met with crimson eyes as Bakugou had turned in his arms. 
“Merry Christmas.” He repeated softly and planted a sweet and gentle kiss to Kirishima's lips. 
They had agreed to open their gifts once they woke up but five minutes later and Kirishima was back asleep with Bakugou following close behind. They luckily had the day off and decided that maybe sleeping in was the true gift, even if Bakugou protested a little. 
By the time they decided to open up their personal gifts, the sun had started to set and they were in front of the fireplace. The smaller gifts came first which consisted of hero merch, a new apron for Bakugou, new weights for Kirishima and a whole bunch of smaller items. Their living room floor looked of that of a five year old on Christmas day, paper everywhere. 
Bakugou wanted to give his final gift last and Kirishima nodded before handing over a small box to the blonde. 
“Now before you open this, I am aware of what is inside.” Kiri stated. 
“Well I fucking hope so.” Bakugou let out a laugh before tearing the wrapping paper off. 
He revealed a wooden box and cracked open the box. 
Kirishima waited anxiously for his reaction. 
First the blonde furrowed his eyebrows. Then he tilted the box slightly. His eyes darted back and forth between the box and the paper. 
“Um.” He said. “Rocks?” 
“Yep!” Kiri smiled and Bakguous lips tightened into a thin line before setting it down. 
“Thank you?” He tried to be polite but Kirishima's laugh sounded through the room. 
“Let me explain.”
“Please do.” 
Kirishima scooted closer to him on his knees and picked up the first rock. 
“When I was thinking of what to get you, I was lost. I mean what do you get the most important person when they already have everything?” 
Bakugou hummed. “I am important.” 
Kirishima playfully rolled his eyes before continuing. “Well I thought back to every important and meaningful moment of my life, and you were always there. So I went back to every place that meant something to use and collected these.” he gestured to the rocks. 
“I know it's lame and doesn't make sense but I worship the ground you walk on, so I thought if we could have a tangible piece of our journey, it would be worth something. So this one, it's from the field of the sports festival. Of course it's not the same rocks as before since you destroyed most of the field anyways but it was the first time you trusted me to help you, the first time you noticed me.” 
Bakugou stared at the other rocks in the box. He noticed that they now had small slips of paper attached and what they represented. 
“The beach with our first kiss. The campsite with the stars. The cliff where you said you loved me for the first time. It's all here.” Bakugou said as he took them one by one in his hands. The precious memories he loved came flooding back. 
“I thought that maybe we could start a little rock collection.” Kirishima chuckled. “Maybe when we travel or something.” 
Bakugou sat silently observing them all. 
“ I mean if you don;t like it that's okay too. I guess getting rocks isn't that great-”
“I love it.” Bakugou stated. His eyes met Kirishimas and he could see the truth in his eyes clear as day. “These mean alot to me. Makes me think about how lucky I am to even receive these.” 
Kirishima smiled and scooted closer for their noses to touch. “I love you.” 
“I love you too.” Bakugou said and pecked his lips. “Now it's my turn.” 
He stood and left Kirishima, grabbing a wrapped box on the mantle. “It's funny. The whole rock thing.” He came back to where he was and sat down before handing the gift to Kirishima. “We had the same idea.”
“You got me a rock too?!” Kirishima sounded a bit more excited than what it should have been. 
“Sort of, just fucking open it.” Naugou smiled and watched as his boyfriend torn the paper. 
“Kat-” 
“Not that its a competition, but my rock is much better.” Bakugou said with a smug smile as he watches his boyfriend's shoulders tightened back 
Kirishima sat as all thoughts left his mind. The instant the lid open, tears weighted in his eyes. He was focused on the perfect diamond sitting in the velvet ring box that he almost missed Bakugou's proposal
“So Eijirou Kirishima, will you do me the honor and accept this rock and me as yours forever?” Baugou asked.
In less than a second, Bakugou was laying on his back as Kirishima had literally bulldozed him to the ground and was practically straddling him. His face became wet with sloppy kisses and he could feel the tears dripping down his face. 
“Yes Katsuki, a thousand times yes.” Kirishima said breathlessly. “I love you so much.” He cried. 
“I love you too.” Bakugou responded by tightening his arms around him. He then let out a laugh as Kirihsima was busy looking at the ring on his finger, holding it up like a chick would in a Hollywood film. He just watched from underneath him thinking about how fucking lucky he was to be eventually wed to the kindest and hottest man alive. 
The rest of the evening was spent with them huddle in front of the fireplace talking about the different memories of the rocks and their plans for the future. Katsuki discovered that Eijirou secretly had a wedding all planned out on pintrest and kept waving his hands in his face since he couldn't keep his eye off the ring. 
“Merry Christmas baby.” Katsuki kissed his cheek and pulled him even closer. 
“Merry Christmas.” 
----
“So what did Bakugou give you?” Mina asked them as they all sat outside for coffee the next day. 
Kirishima and Bakugou looked at each other before he held up his hand. 
“A rock.” 
Mina stared at the shiny ring and practically shattered the glass behind them. “OH MY GOSH CONGRATULATIONS YOU TWO!!!” She cheered and almost let her tears fall from the overwhelming joy of seeing her best friends finally getting engaged. “That's amazing and Bakugou what did your fiance give you?” She asked and Kirishima’s face rose to a pretty shade of red. 
“Rocks.”
“Oh you also proposed?” She got excited again. 
“No, like literal fucking rocks.” 
Her eyes snapped to Kirishima. “Kiri, love, that was a joke.” 
“They are special rocks that hold are memories, shut up!” He looked away but Bakugou kissed his hand. 
“I liked them.” Bakugou shrugged. 
“Bakugou baby i am so sorry.” Mina laughed. “But anyways. I'm the maid of honor right? Cause if im not, you won't have a wedding and that's a promise.” She threatened with a smile. 
“Of course Mina!” Kirishima smiled. 
“Okay good!” She giggled. “Now show me that pretty rock again.”
----
I hope you enjoyed this!!! This was super fun to do!!
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1dfangirls35 · 5 years ago
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Voir Dire- N.H
A fake dating AU about contracts, soulmates and risking it all for love.
Masterlist // Tell Me What You Think!
fifteen
Kelsey felt her heart racing. She was on edge, stuck in a loop of scanning the room every five minutes for someone that didn't belong. She knew she shouldn't be. She could be here by coincidence. In 40 Love, the bar owned by Niall's best friend, having nothing to do with the fact that it was also the location of the unofficial after party of Niall's album release event. 
Kelsey jumped as Becca set a hand on her shoulder, handing her a much needed glass of vodka cran to calm her nerves.
"You're fine," Becca said, seemingly reading Kelsey's thoughts. Kelsey nodded, trying to convince herself that it was indeed fine.
Niall and Kelsey had made the decision that, on the contrary to what Niall's label believed, they would continue dating. However, their dating nowadays consisted much of what it did when they first started seeing each other: time at Niall's house with no exposure to the outside world. It wasn't ideal, but Kelsey knew that it was the only way they could be together without facing the repercussions of Niall's management. And being with Niall was more than enough for now. Plus, with Niall's promotion of the new album and Kelsey's LSAT test date just two weeks away, there hadn't been much free time to spend together anyway.
But Kelsey had wanted to be at the album release. She had wanted to support him on this momentous occasion, and to congratulate him on the hard work he'd put in. They'd come to the decision that no one would be the wiser if she showed up at 40 Love with Becca for the afterparty. Krystal would be there with Niall, and Kelsey and Niall would have no contact. But she would be there, at least physically present, to show her support for the man that loved her.
The man who loved her. Even thinking about those words still sent butterflies through Kelsey's stomach.
It had happened one lazy night. Kelsey had her nose buried deep in her LSAT study books, her test date fast approaching. Her legs were strung on top of Niall's on the sofa, and he was absentmindedly  rubbing her feet after her long shift at the bar. She could feel that he was staring at her, and so she brought her face out of her book momentarily, shoving her yellow highlighter back into her book.
"What?" she giggled, raising an eyebrow. Niall's cheeks grew slightly redder at the being caught in the act.
"You're so cute when you've got your nose stuck in that book," he leaned over, tapping his finger on the tip of her nose.
Kelsey rolled her eyes. She looked anything but cute at the moment, with her hair in a knot at the top of her head and her face bare minus a few smudges of leftover mascara near the corner of her eyelashes.
Niall scooted over next to her on the couch, wrapping his arms around her chest and nuzzling his head into her hair. "I love you," Niall mumbled, his words barely audible.
Kelsey felt her world freeze. Kelsey wanted to say the words back. She felt them in her bones. A part of her did love Niall. But no matter how strong the feelings were in her heart, the thoughts in her brain were stronger. Every time she'd said those three words before she'd been burned. So she thought maybe this time, if she kept those words to herself, she'd get to be loved a little while longer before her heart was broken.
So instead of saying those three little words back, Kelsey turned around and brought her lips to Niall's. Because, for now, her actions would have to take the place of the words she couldn't bring herself to say. 
Kelsey caught a glimpse of Niall from across the bar, bringing her back to reality. He hadn't stopped glowing since he'd arrived nearly an hour ago. His custom-made Paul Smith navy blue suit fitting him in all the right places, a few more buttons at the top beginning to come undone to reveal some tufts of chest hair. His laugh echoed through the bar, making Kelsey's heart flutter. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen Niall as happy as he was right now. Although she wished she could be standing next to him, arms intertwined at his side, there was something about the sense of forbidden love that made it all so much more exciting. The stolen glances they shared from across the crowded bar. The way Niall's hand lingered on the small of Kelsey's back as he squeezed by her on his way to his next conversation. The tension was building, and Kelsey couldn't wait to celebrate with him when they got home later this evening.
While she was focused on Niall, Kelsey seemed to lose track of Krystal, who had been putting on quite the show this evening. Kelsey wasn't sure if it was because Krystal knew Kelsey was here or if it was simply the norm of this fake relationship, but Krystal had barely kept her hands off of Niall. Kelsey was trying her best to ignore it, reminding herself that this is what had to go on if she wanted to be with Niall. Reminding herself that in a few short months the tour would be announced and Niall and Krystal would have a dramatic, heart-wrenching break-up that would kickstart Krystal's career and leave Niall all to Kelsey. It was only a few more months, and then she wouldn't have to see that head of perfectly curled blonde hair ever again.
That head of perfectly curled blonde hair had now slid into place next to Kelsey at the bar. Raising her hand to get the bartenders attention and ordering two glasses of champagne. Kelsey could guess who the second glass was for.
Kelsey tried to keep her gaze elsewhere. She didn't want to have a conversation with Krystal, not after the way she'd been hanging all over Niall for most of the night. But it appeared Krystal had other plans.
"I'm surprised you came," Krystal said smugly, her red lips forming a sort of insincere grin.
Kelsey turned to look to face Krystal, her eyes narrowing. "The album's a big deal, I wanted to be here for him," Kelsey took a sip of her drink. She tried to turn to continue her conversation with Becca, desperate from a way out of this more than uncomfortable conversation, but Becca was nowhere to be found.
"I figured he wouldn't let you go," Krystal shrugged. "But I guess I thought maybe you had a little have sense to you. You know he could lose everything from this don't you?" Kelsey followed Krystal's eyes as they fall upon Niall, who is currently taking a selfie with Lewis Capaldi. "Can't imagine how heartbroken he would be without his music."
Kelsey's not sure what kind of point Krystal was trying to make. And something about the way that Krystal was acting like if this was all Kelsey's fault set her on her defense. "You don't know our relationship Krystal. And quite honestly it's not any of your business," Kelsey snapped.
Niall's caught the two of them speaking now, and even from a distance Kelsey can see the concern in his eyes. So she smiles, giving him a soft nod before turning her gaze back to Krystal.
"I'm not..." Krystal began, but she must have read the stern look on Kelsey's face because she stopped what she is saying. "He's just the most genuine guy in this industry. I know he'd risk everything for you Kelsey. Just be careful is all I'm saying. Now I better go deliver this champagne to the man of the hour," Krystal raised her eyebrows and headed off towards Niall.
Kelsey watched as she handed him the glass, leaning over to kiss Niall on the cheek, as if she was just taunting Kelsey. Kelsey rolled her eyes.
"What did she want?" Becca said, conveniently reappearing just now.
"To tell me off for being here," Kelsey said, her voice agitated.
Becca's jaw dropped.
"Well, not in those exact words but I think that is what she was implying. Doesn't she already know that I know how risky this is?"
"She's just trying to be difficult," Becca assured. "She feels threatened when you're here because he can't keep his eyes off of you." Becca gestured to where Niall and Krystal stood a few yards away. Sure enough, Niall's eyes met Kelsey's.
Kelsey breathed a slight sigh of relief. She had vowed that she would stop letting the details of Niall's PR relationship shake her confidence. She had to be confident in her relationship in Niall if she wanted this to work, especially with everything that they were putting on the line now. "Shall we go dance?" Kelsey suggested, gesturing to the area where the DJ was playing some of Niall's new album, along with classic party anthems. Becca nodded her head and agreement, grabbing Kelsey's hand and dragging her towards the dance floor.
Even though she was having a good time for the most part, Kelsey was thankful when the night wrapped up and she got a text from Niall telling her to meet him at his place. When she arrived, he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and whispered "You looked beautiful tonight", before leading her up to his bedroom.
"Uggh I'm exhausted," Niall groaned, unbuttoning his shirt before placing it neatly into the laundry hamper. Kelsey slipped out of her dress for the night, pulling on one of Niall's t-shirts, which had become her new favorite thing to sleep in.
She climbed into his bed, pulling the covers over her legs and burrowing down. Niall soon followed, wrapping his arms around her from behind and burying his face into her hair. He inhaled deeply.
"Just got a text from Mike, guess the albums number one in 42 countries and it hasn't even been released in America yet. Thought it was gonna flop to be honest," he said it so casually, like it was an ordinary thing for your album to top the charts within hours of its release. But even though Niall was trying to play it cool, but that didn't stop the excitement from sneaking through his voice.
Kelsey flipped over in bed, her nose now touching the tip of Niall's. "It was never going to flop," Kelsey smiled. "You deserve it Niall. The album's amazing. I'm so proud of you."
She was proud of him. More proud than words could express. He'd been through hell and back this promotion season. He'd been put in a position that he didn't agree with, and yet he'd come out stronger from it. She knew he'd had his doubts about the album, about it living up to his expectations. About it living up to his first one. But here he was.
"Thank you Kels, I'm glad you were there tonight. It wouldn't have been the same without you," Niall pushed a piece of Kelsey's hair to the side, staring into her eyes as if he was under a spell. "I love you," he said, planting a kiss on her forehead.
Niall doesn't expect a response. He knew that those words weren't something that Kelsey took lightly, especially after what she had been through recently. He'd come to terms with the fact that it may be months before he hears those words back, but that that didn't mean that Kelsey wasn't showing him how much she loved him each and every day. 
"Love you too," Kelsey replied softly, the words slipping out before she could stop them. But instead of feeling scared of letting her feelings be known, she felt utterly at peace. Maybe being in love wasn't so scary when it was with someone who loved you back unconditionally. Maybe this time, love wouldn't break her heart.
Tag List: @awomanindeniall​ @ihearthemcallingforyou @niall-is-my-dream​ @stylishmuser​ @thicksniall
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throtegote · 5 years ago
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Yung Waitloz (2012 me’s rapper name)
(If you’d like to read this off my wix blog here’s the link: https://erikatriesall.wixsite.com/tlhodia)
If you get triggered by topics concerning body image and weight loss then proceed with caution or don’t proceed at all.
I probably discuss way too much personal stuff online, but hey, who doesn’t appreciate a little oversharing every once in a while?
I have never been skinny or slim, let’s start there. Sure, I was a tiny baby, but that was about it. I have always been bigger than a lot of my classmates and even now I’m in no way built like a Victoria’s Secret model. Also, keep in mind that I’ve never been clinically obese or severely overweight. Got it? Cool.
Enter My Mom. She has been on my case to lose weight for as long as I remember. I admit, there were times when I was particularly chonky, but that’s beside the point. I remember being 8-9 years old when she spent over 15 minutes ridiculing and calling me out on how my spandex gym tights made noises as my thighs rubbed together during our uphill walk around the residential estate. She was also and still is, fond of pinching my “love-handles” (in quotes because if I remember “You can’t even call them love handles because you have nobody loving you.”),  with her long-ass, sharp nails whenever they appeared over the waistband of my pants.
(I’m not bitter or anything)
Essentially, 8-year-old me was told to lose weight enough times to try. I ate the food they gave me, and only what they gave me, and went on walks occasionally with My Mom (which I despised because I really didn’t leave the comfort of my room to be berated by my birth giver). I even started taking netball more seriously and started athletics training. What I also started doing was paying close attention to the bodies of girls around me and playing spot the difference. Not too long afterwards I learned to hate clothes shopping and hide in group photos. When I look through photo albums and my parent’s phone galleries now, it’s plain to see that I was an Olympic grade camera dodger.
Fast forward a few years. Now I’m 11-12 years old. I’ve grown taller and older, so my weight distribution has changed, but I’m still not skinny. My Mom is still on me to lose weight, even more so now that I’m older and maturing into “womanhood” because apparently, it is a crime to wear pants only a few sizes smaller than your mother of similar body structure and lesser height. Now that I’m older and more educated, I’ve realized that even though I was playing a sport and jogging and going for aerobics with my mom occasionally, I won’t get skinny unless I change my diet. In fact, there was a time when some government nurses came to do regional health checks at school and some data included body weight (there was a crowd around me when it was my turn to hop on the scale. The boys laughed, I went to the bathroom and cried. But it’s all good). The nurses then asked me questions about stuff like the bread we had at home, if I ate junk food or added sugar, stuff like that. That’s when it clicked. It clicked real hard.
A typical school lunch packed by My Mom comprised a hotdog/ham sandwich/homemade burger, a packet of chips/crisps and a juice box or Tropica when she was feeling generous. Which is what my brothers and a lot of my friends were packing to school with no problems: but I’m not built like those people so I can’t eat like them, right? The lunch had to go. And go it did. And so did pretty much all my other regular meals.
If My Mom was distracted with getting ready for work, I’d ditch breakfast and lie about it, then hop onto the school bus. Getting rid of the stuff in my lunchbox wasn’t too difficult to do because I had friends who were happy to help. This meant that for the first 12 hours of the day all I had was a juice box or nothing at all. It worked. My Mom noticed and complimented my improved physique along with a handful of relatives. But was I skinny? Not even.
Then came the Google searches. “How to lose weight quickly” “How to get skinny” “How to get a thigh gap” “How to lose thigh fat fast” Just to name a few.
That’s when I discovered the infamous pro-anorexia community. Or should I say that’s when they found me? I’m not too sure.
Over the school holidays, I started with the so-called “K-pop” diets and did YouTube workouts every night with more consistency than my prayer life. Two boiled eggs for breakfast, some milk for lunch (which was disastrous because apparently, I’m lactose intolerant), and for dinner… water, with or without lemon or tea. It really depended on the day. Not that hard to get away with, really. When the fat girl says they’re not hungry, who are you to force them?
But I couldn’t lose weight fast enough. Sure, slowly killing myself was working, but was I skinny? Nah.
So, I turned to “thinspo” and “pretty girl diet” challenges and "pro-ana" coaches to guide me. (If you're somebody who thinks it's okay to coax children into dangerous eating disorders and potentially death, you deserve a chair. But make it electric. Periodt.) My stomach was flattening, and my pants came on a lot easier, but the truth was I was utterly miserable. Getting skinny was all I thought about. And I’m not talking about Victoria’s Secret model skinny, I got to a point where I was jealous of the science lab skeleton, no jokes. Food wasn’t food anymore; it was just numbers and macros. I was always dizzy and cranky and my hair was falling out and even though I had done it for long enough to overcome the hunger pangs, there was a new pain, one that manifested in my chest and couldn’t be treated with sleep or Panado. I was the only one on holiday for three months, so nobody noticed.
I was twelve when I first tried to off myself with prescription drugs. All because I couldn’t be skinny and in my head that meant I couldn’t be pretty, or loved, or befriended. I woke up after a 8-hour “nap” to find that nothing had changed.
Why am I exposing myself by telling this story?
If you’re a parent or sibling or anyone who cares for a child who you think needs to lose weight for whatever reason (hopefully for health-related reasons, not purely aesthetics), please do not leave them to their own devices. They will search for authoritative guidance elsewhere, and the wrong people may find them. People who prescribe oxygen as a meal plan and perpetuate the notion that if you can pinch at your flesh, then you are ugly and will remain ugly until you are feather-light. Despite being one of the smartest kids in my grade, I still fell for it. (Update: I’m still not skinny. I probably only fucked up my metabolism and lost hair. -100/10, would not recommend to my worst enemy.)
Good news is at some point I got sick and tired of feeling the way I did. My suicide attempt failed miserably but instead of trying again, I uninstalled all my calorie counter and fitness apps, tossed all my magazines in the trash and talked to my mom and made it a point to talk to friends more, especially those who understood in some way or another. The Body Positivity movement was rising, and that helped a lot. Big ups to all the lovely people on YouTube who post videos on #recovery.
But experiences like this don’t just go away. You don’t forget and move on. I still have relapses, I still feel insurmountable guilt after eating, I still feel like I would rather eat baked rat than gain weight, I still go through binge-restrict cycles. All stemming from events that happened over 8 years ago.
My Mom had some level of good intention, I won't disregard that. People on her side of the family suffer from chronic illnesses that can all be prevented if not managed better through proper diet and exercise and she doesn't want her kids developing high blood pressure at age 13. Fine, I get it. But damn.
If you can avoid doing this to yourself or someone impressionable in your life, please do. Model healthy behaviours for your kids to adopt and talk health; not snatched waistlines, not thigh gaps nor scale readings. Teach your kids not to base the entirety of their worth on their appearance. And do not, under any circumstances, body shame them.
Please?
Once again, a lot of what is here is based on personal experience and opinion (‘coz it’s my blog, duh’). If you have separate ideas or any disagreements, bring them up in the comments or email me. I love a good debate.
Also, if you currently relate to anything mentioned in this post, take this as your sign to get better. Trust me, you're worth it.
xoxo
Erika
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flych1 · 5 years ago
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Kehlani singer on her new album
Kehlani, singer on her new album
Photo: Pari Dukovic
Kehlani
In early March, Kehlani was due to meet his label. She was preparing to release her second album - her first since she had a baby and a return to her roots R-B. She was scheduled to perform the first part of Justin Bieber's Changes tour, as well as a number of dream solo dates. Atlantic executives told him they believed in the album, which was scheduled for release on April 24, its 25th anniversary, but the coronavirus pandemic made it impossible to develop a promotion plan. We'd have to postpone it. "I was casting actors and actresses. I was doing all kinds of things," she says of all the pre-production she had completed at the time of the mid-March meeting. We're talking about a video call from Zoom; Kehlani sits alone in a sunny room in his Los Angeles home. (Later, she will be joined by her dog, a pint of ice cream and a tequila-based drink with a slice of orange coming out). It just so happens that today is the original release date. They said, "We don't think you should take it out,"" she said. "And then I went to my room and made the 'Toxic' video on my laptop." She posted it on YouTube at the end of March. "People messed with it," she adds. When Kehlani's label accepted her request to release the album this month, it was stipulated that she had to do it all herself. "If all we do is make music and press the button, then you can do it," she says. "And I was like, 'Okay, challenge accepted fucking.'" So now Kehlani and her photographer, with whom she's in quarantine, are planning and editing music videos, photoshoots, and album coverage. (She also lives with her daughter, two younger siblings, a close friend and her assistant). His garage has been converted into a two-level studio, one side for music, the other for visuals. Kehlani has been a professional musician since the age of 13. A series of mixtapes - full of overshares about having a heart built and broken - and a random but successful debut album have already made her a leading figure in the industry. His music is R-B in its purest form: songs about how love defeats you, about floating on the pure adrenaline of a crush, about the desire of someone you can't trust in your heart. It's no coincidence that when white artists like Bieber and Charlie Puth want to look into an R-B sound, they call on Kehlani to help them. The new album, It Was Good Until It Wasn't, is part of a revival of the genre in the midst of its fiercest debates. It is also a transition disc, a bridge between adolescence and adulthood. Throughout her career, Kehlani has been considered the daughter of the R-B: sexy but boyish. In her old music, she played with both sides of the binary. On the new record, it got too big. She did so immediately after giving birth to her daughter Adeya, who is now one year old. (She is currently co-parenting with her ex, Adeya's father, Javaughn Young-White, younger brother of Jaboukie from the Daily Show). "People would always be like, Kehlani is adorable or, like, Kehlani is cool hella. But then I had a baby and it made me look more feminine," she says. "So I guess I thought, OK, I'm going to start shaking my ass and talk about it." (She wanted Bieber to do a song for her album, but he refused. "Because he's a super-married guy now, it didn't really fit," she said. Kehlani's self-managed music video for "Toxic", filmed with the only camera on her MacBook, shows the nervous figure of the singer slipping and squirming, rubbing her arms and hips. "Don Julio has ridiculed me for you," she tells her former lover that she won't reach out to him, even if her body urges her to do it out of instinct. Kehlani insists this is not his last relationship, which ended publicly and painfully, with Compton rapper YG earlier this year. It's the kind of personal drama that made headlines and made Kehlani's blog famous. She writes songs that address all of this openly. Her fans grow up with her career because she is transparent, sometimes to excess. Or, as she says, I do in public, and it makes people feel like I'm not a stranger. I'm a person with a human ass. I'm screwing up in front of the whole world." The conversation about the state of the R-B was revived last November, when Lizzo, often considered a pop artist, won album of the year at the Soul Train Awards, beating soul singer Ari Lennox. ("It's clear that I'm not cool enough," Lennox tweeted after his loss. Last February, rapper Young M.A. went further, saying that "we barely have R-B". Indeed, in recent years, the superstars of the genre - like SWV, Boyz II Men, Ginuwine, Toni Braxton - and their musical descendants have mostly failed to stop the charts as they did two decades ago; many contemporary black musicians evade the label, preferring to be called "alternative R-B", while others experiment more with genres that were once declared out of bounds by the guardians. Kehlani, on the other hand, is part of a coterie of artists who maintain the relevant R-B today, alongside newcomers like Summer Walker, Bryson Tiller and Lennox. She has a song for every step of a relationship: going under it, going over it, watching the door ahead, a personal promise to stop texting her. His music seems new - not as a consistent copy of a Brandy song - but the influence is palpable. She finds the current debate about gender - what the R-B is, what it was and where it has gone - boring. It may no longer sound like it did in the 90s, but rappers (think, more recently, Drake) have expanded it beyond the desperate desire (or desperate loves) of the last century. "I think people don't know enough about music to make these kinds of accusations [that the R-B no longer exists]. The R-B is simple lyrics and a great song. Lots of harmonies and batteries and melodic production," she says, as if it were easy. "I'll never be able to make 90s R-B music. I'm never going to be able to make R-B music from the early 2000s, because that's not when I was making music. It wasn't when I experienced things that shaped my words and my sound." Kehlani was born in Oakland and raised by her aunt. His mother struggled with drug addiction, and his father died when he was 24 years old and she was very young. A stint on America's Got Talent put her in touch with Nick Cannon, who paid for her to spend time in the studio to make her first mixtape in 2014. On Cloud 19, you can hear the beginnings of a great talent: his voice is more acute and younger, but it is overflowing with emotion. On the deck of Cloud 19's "As I Am" film, she sings and succeeds in the chorus of a Mary J. Blige classic. A week after the release of her second mixtape in 2015, she signed with Atlantic Records. Kehlani turned to pop with his debut album of 2017, SweetSexySavage, an album full of rushed and half-finished ideas. It was carried out amid a personal mental health crisis, sparked by rumors that she cheated on her ex-boyfriend, NBA player Kyrie Irving, in 2016. The relentless online bullying led her to attempt suicide. (Kyrie Irving later admitted that she had never been unfaithful.) "I started an album as a person and experienced the most traumatic event of my life," she says. Her label held on until the deadline, letting her make an album from songs she barely recognized. "I had no connection with the music," she says. "I was embarrassed about everything." The new record is a reset, closer to the Grammy-nominated mixtapes that made it famous. It Was Good Until It Wasn't Gives you the Pure B-R rush, the R-B "waiting for you to call me", the R-B "the only thing that interests me is you": the hits of Brandy and Monica in the 90s, the classics of Alicia Keys of the early 2000s who fall in love. She is also less affected by the nostalgia of adolescence than by the immediacy of adult desires. His first mixtapes were about childhood and adolescence; It Was Good Until It Wasn't at peace with the way most conflicts or heartaches unfold. The title comes from a conversation with a friend about her recent breakup. That's the life of this, you know? she said. The is good and then it's not good anymore. Although she has been in the industry since she was a teenager, Kehlani has never had any decisive success for her career, and it is unlikely that the new album will deliver one. "F-MU" is hot and dancing, and the collaboration with Canadian R-B star Tory Lanez, "Can I," is a sexy earworm - although neither song seems particularly suited to virality. His greatest successes are gossip blogs that overshadow his music. His three-month relationship with YG ended just after they released a song together proclaiming their love. (Their duet came out on the eve of Valentine's Day 2020; three days later, she released a breakup song after images of him cheating her surfaced). Minutes before one of our calls, Kehlani posted a series of tweets about a feud with another Oakland native, rapper Kamaiyah, who slammed her on Instagram Live about a previously unreleased mixtape and accused her of being a colorist, among other things. "She gave the green light to my family and me and told everyone in Oakland to kill us for a song," Kehlani says. (Kamaiyah later replied, telling Kehlani, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't threaten you," but added that "a green light means going like a fight, not shooting"). A moment after our discussion, she answered a phone call from a friend and nervously asked if her tweets - which had let the rapper know there was no bad blood - were correct, if she had handled the situation properly. Kehlani and Kamaiyah had long argued over a joint mixtape, which was to be released before the release of their two albums. Her production was difficult, and even the basic decisions - how many songs she should have, what it should be called, what the visual aesthetic should be - met, according to Kehlani, with Kamaiyah's resistance. In the end, she had had enough of back and forth, and the mixtape didn't seem as essential to her as the release of her album. When she came back to our call, her mood was appalled. I tried to contact her to do good business and she said, "If the project doesn't come out, you can't have it [one piece]," she says. "Even though I wrote it." Once again, she was swept away in a drama she couldn't control, tweeting clarifications about a quarrel she didn't care about, instead of celebrating the upcoming release of her album. But why challenge a misinterpretation if she is tired of getting carried away by the drama? How can I put this to rest and out of my body? Because I don't want to wear them," Kehlani says. "Even if you never want to piss me off again, how can I make sure you know it's love on this side?" she tweeted Kamaiyah to let the rapper know she wished him the best. She is satisfied with the way she has defused an unexpected quarrel. A few years ago, it would not have been as weighted. It took a lot of to get to this point, she says. The death of two friends in three months has put a lot of things in perspective. Philadelphia rapper Chynna overdosed in April at age 25; Minnesota rapper Lexii Alijai, whom Kehlani considered "a little sister," overdosed on New Year's Day at just 21 years of age. Lexii Alijai was scheduled to perform the first part of the post-Bieber tour as the headliner. "I couldn't believe it because Alijai was so young," she says. "It was a click, it was amazing, it was sad and it was heartbreaking. I'm always trying to find the best way to help them continue their legacy." Being 25 was also more than a quarter of a life. It was a horizon she never thought she would see. "I've always had a strange feeling about being 25 or older," she says. "It's a shock because I'm now older than my father was." that's part of what made It Was Good Until It Wasn't feel like the album she finally grew up on. "I wanted to be 25 on this one," she says.
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crxpeek · 5 years ago
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Hi cool I transcribed that Q104.3 Interview with Nick & Darian earlier. 
If you wanna check out the original you can watch/listen to that here
But if not, there’s a transcription right here under the cut. 
Transcriber’s note here: It’s pretty long and it took me three hours to do and there’s quite a few good quotes here, so yeah, enjoy. 
Jonathan Clarke: Welcome back, Jonathan Clarke, we’re in the studio with Nick Valensi & Darian Zanedi? Did I say that right Darian?
Darian: Zahedi.
Jonathan Clarke: Zahedi. Oh, that’s an H not an N, my bad. Of course, the band is CRX.  The new album is Peek. They are playing the Mercury Lounge right here in New York City tonight. And of course, Nick’s other band The Strokes playing New Year’s Eve Barclay’s Center. Is that correct?
Nick: That’s right.
Jonathan Clarke: Fantastic. All the tour dates for CRX crxmusic.com Guys, or, I’ll ask you first Nick, how many times have you played the Mercury Lounge? Because I know you had a residency there at one point with The Strokes.
Nick: Oh man… many moons ago. The Strokes did… I think it was like… every Friday night or every Thursday night for a month. We did that a couple of times, so I’ve played there a dozen times.
Jonathan Clarke: A residency.
Nick: Yeah. It’s cool to do to that.
Jonathan Clarke: Right?
Nick: It’s nice so your fans kinda know where you’ll be every week, it’s like a TV show or something.
Jonathan Clarke: Right exactly it’s appointment viewing.
Nick: Yeah and we’re not doing that this time around, cause I moved to LA a while ago.
Jonathan Clarke: Yes, where Darian’s from.
Nick: Yep.
Jonathan Clarke: But you were born right here in New York City.
Nick: That’s right.
Jonathan Clarke: That’s right.
Nick: That’s right. I grew up listening to Q104.3. To be perfectly honest with you, it was the classic rock station when I was growing up and it still is, although now it’s more of a mixed bag.
Jonathan Clarke: I will ask you guys both the same question, what was the first song you learned on guitar?
Nick: I mean I know-
Jonathan Clarke: Smoke on the Water?
Darian: No.
Nick: The first thing�� My very first guitar lesson I remember it very clearly. I wanted to learn uh. Well the guy asked me “What do you like? What kind of music do you like?” I said, “I love Guns ‘N Roses” and he said, “Do you know the song Sweet Child O’ Mine?” I said “Of course,” and he was like “I can teach you this intro.”
Jonathan Clarke: The riff.
Nick: and that’s the first thing that I kinda went through, was this intro to Sweet Child O’ Mine.
Jonathan Clarke: Not actually an easy sort of-
Nick: No, it seems like a sophisticated place to start. But that’s where he started me.
Jonathan Clarke: Darian?
Darian: Man.. going back many many years but it might have been Smells Like Teen Spirit.
Jonathan Clarke: Okay.
Darian: But I remember the first song I wanted to learn was uh Brown Sugar.
Jonathan Clarke: Oh Yeah.
Darian: And the guitar teacher… I had just learned to play like open cords on the guitar, and he was like “You don’t wanna learn that one right now it’s too...” And I was like, “No I wanna learn I really wanna learn how to do it.”
Nick: But it’s in a different tuning that song.
Darian: Well it’s also like bar chords. And he’s like it’s these things called barre chords. And I was like then show me barre chords. And then I, you know, I was like, I’m gonna figure this out. So, I just spent days, you know, making my fingers bleed til I could play barre chords. And then he taught me Brown Sugar. And it was like-
Jonathan Clarke: Now did you do the Keith Richards thing of taking off the Low E string?
Darian: No.
Jonathan Clarke: And then on the Open G?
Darian: I did the Open G tuning, but I didn’t take off the string, I wasn’t, when I was 10 years old, I wasn’t that… you know…
Jonathan Clarke: It’s funny with that particular tuning, which, legend has it, Ry Cooder, taught him that tuning.
Darian: Yeah. He taught him how to play slide too, I think.
Jonathan Clarke: Yeah yeah, and once you learn that, you know how to mess around on the barre chords with that tuning, you can play like 5 Stones hits like right away.
Darian: And you can be high as Keith Richards and still do it.
Jonathan Clarke: Absolutely. We’re in the studio with Nick & Darian from CRX, the new album is Peek. The first album came out in 2016, New Skin. That was pretty much you doing most of the writing, Nick, on that one.
Nick: Yeah, the first album was an experiment for me to start something outside of The Strokes. And I didn’t really know what it was gonna be at the onset. And um, while I was making it, I put together a band of friends to take on tour. And umm, over the course of touring that first album for quite some time. We spent many hours in a van together and listened to a lot music together.
Jonathan Clarke: Like the old days.
Nick: Yeah. And um, just spent a lot of time really talking about music. And um, over the course of that tour we kind of… it was like a kinda… pre-production creative time for starting to collaboratively write this second album together.
Jonathan Clarke: I did plays Ways to Fake It a lot on this show. I love that song.
Nick: Oh, thanks Jonathan.
Jonathan Clarke: So good.
Nick: Thank you so much man, you know, thanks for you continued support man.
Jonathan Clarke: We go back as we mentioned, Modern Age.
Nick: You reminded me you’re the first DJ to play The Modern Age EP, before that first Strokes album. You were playing The Strokes demos on the air.
Jonathan Clarke: Yes yes. And it came in… the CD came in… resembled… You guys may have been the first to like do the retro thing with the CD where it looks like a 45 but it’s actually a regular CD.
Nick: Yeah, I came out of the womb retro.
Jonathan Clarke: Ah yes, nice. That of course was Modern Age. The song I’ve been playing is Falling, and also Get Close. Really good songs. I noticed you guys really do have your own sound, but you are unafraid to proudly show your influences on this current new album. So, talk about there. Cause there’s a lot of things that I hear but I wanna hear what you sort of hear with these new songs.
Darian: Well uh... Yeah there was… you know we…  when we were like he’s saying we were on tour we were listening to a lot of music and we started talking about if we were gonna make a second record what would we want it to sound like and what we were vibing on at the time. And it was a lot of David Bowie circa Scary Monster, Iggy Pop circa The Idiot, Talking Heads circa Remain in Light and umm.
Jonathan Clarke: Cars?
Darian: Cars I think is just part of our blood.
Jonathan Clarke: Yeah yeah.
Darian: Cars & Tom Petty, you know, with the songwriting and the vibes. So I think that kinda comes through a little more subconsciously.
Jonathan Clarke: Yeah.
Darian: The other stuff we wanted to sort of, you know, we gave ourself those parameters, to keep things consistent. You know what I mean? And then I think our sort of individual taste and stuff that’s sort of inherent kinda also shines through.
Jonathan Clarke: Isn’t Elliot Easton like the most underrated guitar player?
Darian: So underrated.
Jonathan Clarke: I mean his rifts are like so perfect.
Darian: I think we’re both very influenced by him. I used to have this VHS of The Cars live at Musikladen, 1979, and I would rewind it and rewind it and rewind it and learn his guitar solos from watching it until the tape and the VCR both like fell apart.
Jonathan Clarke: Yeah, I love that.
Nick: You know he’s got the most memorable, melodic, short succinct guitar solos that you can sing along to. That other people, like the guy from Tom Petty’s band.
Jonathan Clarke: Mike Campbell.
Nick: Yeah, Mike Campbell was like that too. Just short and sweet, you make a really good melodic statement, and then just get out.
Jonathan Clarke: Yeah, it’s almost like their solo is like 8 bars and then it’s like back to the bridge or the chorus or whatever it is. It’s almost Beatle-esque in that sense. Like it’s kinda the George Harrison solos are, you know, famously very short and tight and melodic.
Nick: And you can sing along to them most importantly.
Jonathan Clarke: Yeah.
Nick: That’s what I look for in an instrumental section to a song. Whether it’s a guitar solo, or a synth solo, or just a little interlude.
Jonathan Clarke: Yeah.
Nick: I like melody.
Jonathan Clarke: You’ve made a couple video for this new album. For Get Close… now did you, did you set out wanting to make a vampire movie video in New Orleans.
Nick: Well…
Darian: It’s a funny story…
Jonathan Clarke: Tell it!
Nick: Uh…
Darian: We so we… we went out to this, this is a long story I’ll make it quick. We went out to eat at this place called Cole’s in downtown Los Angeles. Which is like an old school LA restaurant. And we went to talk to videos with this video director and we were sort of riffing on ideas. But basically, what happened was that, I ate a lot of spicy mustard and pickles and I couldn’t sleep that night. And I was like lying in bed with acid reflux. And I just envisioned this entire video with a female vampire femme fatale who goes around killing guys and I just sorta saw the whole thing in my head.
Jonathan Clarke: Now did you have Lemmy from Motörhead in your mind as well sitting at bar or no?
Darian: Well no. What happened was I wrote the treatment and I sent it to Kansas Bowling who directed our videos because she’s super into like horror B-movies from like the 60s and 70s, and it’s like she’ll be perfect to make this. She took it New Orleans, she found the cast. And you know we added our friend Christina Masterson, who is the main vampire, we sent her down there with her and just let her sorta do her thing. And she found the guy, she found the bartender, who was a horror movie actress in the 70s… 80s..
Nick: Uh yeah Loretta something…
Darian: Geretta Geretta? Dreada Dreada?
(Transcriber’s note, Geretta Geretta is the actress)
Nick: Yeah yeah.
Darian: And she’s like a master, Kansas, at finding cool people and outfits and locations. We just let her sorta run wild with it.
Nick: She shoots everything on film, on an old camera from the 70s, that she takes on the plane, that’s like her carryon, on the plane, is this big huge heavy film camera from the 70s. And she’s made our videos on that camera.
Jonathan Clarke: Yeah cause it has that quality, I wouldn’t say it’s grainy necessary, but it has that sort of…
Nick: It’s film.
Jonathan Clarke: It’s film yeah yeah. Also, animals in your videos, there are kittens and a goat.
Nick: Yeah.
Jonathan Clarke: I believe.
Darian: Pomeranian.
Jonathan Clarke: A cute little Pomeranian, very nice.
Nick: We’re animal lovers.
Darian: Yeah yeah.
Nick: And so is Kansas the director.
Darian: Story about that goat or lamb or whatever it was.  I think it was a goat. She actually rescued that from a slaughter house.
Jonathan Clarke: Aww.
Darian: She went and bought it from the slaughter house, from them, for like $100 or whatever, took part of the video budget. And then after the video, she gave it to this place that like takes in sheltered animals and puts them to pasture and…
Jonathan Clarke: We love that.
Darian: So, she basically rescued this goat from a slaughter house.
Nick: Yay!
Jonathan Clarke: And the goat is now a star.
Darian: The goat is now a star, and its alive, and its happy.
Jonathan Clarke: Yeah. Nick, I have to ask you, when you first started in The Strokes, life on the road I think was a little different than it is now. You have a family. Do you bring them on the road with you for Strokes show or CRX shows?
Nick: Sometimes.
Jonathan Clarke: When it’s convenient?
Nick: Yeah when it’s convenient. And you know, for one off things sometimes. I mean life is different in that I have a family. But life is so different now from when I started on tour with The Strokes because the internet barely existed when The Strokes first… you know what I mean? In the late 90s, early 00s, I didn’t have a cell phone, you know we didn’t have a lot of the ways to stay in touch now.
Jonathan Clarke: Right.
Nick: I can be on a tour bus somewhere and just facetime my wife and my kids. Back when I… I started touring when I was 17, 18 years old so it was stops at payphones.
Jonathan Clarke: Right.
Nick: Which seems crazy now, that that was even a thing.
Jonathan Clarke: And some payphones actually still work.
Nick: You find them sometimes, they’re more and more rare.
Jonathan Clarke: I have heard that the new Strokes album is finished, and that you are mixing now. Is that correct?
Nick: Wow you heard that?
Jonathan Clarke: I heard that.
Nick: Who told you that?
Jonathan Clarke: Fairly reliable source.
Nick: Um… Well it must be true then.
Jonathan Clarke: Aha. Okay so you can’t give us any more info on when and if or?
Nick: When, I don’t know. If… is… I would say is a strong likelihood.
Jonathan Clarke: Yes. So, I’m in my gym the other day you know just doing my stretching and things like that. And then ‘Last Nite’ comes on the system of, you know, the gym. And I’m thinking “Wow, okay” so I don’t think this would have happened necessarily 18 years ago. But now I’m hearing it on the system of the gym playing. And I’m wondering when you go grocery shopping or you’re in your car or you’re some place, and you hear one of your songs, and I’ll ask this to both of you. Is it just like no big deal now or does you mind take you back to in the studio? Like kinda what goes through your mind when you hear your songs in places or on the radio?
Nick: First thought is “Am I getting paid for this?”
Jonathan Clarke: Yeah.
Nick: Sorry that was a joke.
Jonathan Clarke: That’s okay.
Darian: This is a safe place.
Nick: Sometimes I hear songs like you said, in the supermarket or in a store, and I think it’s The Strokes, and it’s not.
Jonathan Clarke: Oh yeah.
Nick: And then I think, am I getting paid for this?
Jonathan Clarke: And yourself? What do you think?
Darian: It’s weird. My experience with The Strokes personally is these guys were my friends in 1999, 2000. So, I was hearing these songs at Luna Lounge when it was still on Ludlow St. and places like that. So, I have like, a different relationship with it than I think most people. Where it’s strange, but it’s also… I don’t know.
Nick: So, the backstory here is that the way I know Darian is, he went to a year of college with Albert Hammond Jr., the other guitar player in The Strokes. So they were... They became fast friends cause they were in a music class… music class together?
Darian: Beethoven.
Jonathan Clarke: Wow so you can actually read music?
Darian: Oh, we both failed that class.
Jonathan Clarke: That’s very rock and roll Darian.
Nick: As Albert and I were… you know as The Strokes were kinda coming together… and like he said doing small gigs downtown you know to maybe a couple dozen people, if that, they were in school together, and we were just all part of a circle of friends. And so, we’ve known each other for a long time.
Jonathan Clarke: Well what about when you hear a CRX song on the radio? That’s gotta be a thrill, right?
Nick: That is actually kind of cool.
Darian: That is very exciting.
Jonathan Clarke: Yeah.
Nick: It is cool.
Darian: Especially cause we do, I do think about when we were in the studio how we created this how, how this part came about and how you know it’s like…
Jonathan Clarke: So, you flashback? Flashback to the studio and the creation?
Darian:  Yeah totally. And you think like... you realize when you hear a song, well most people hear a song, they don’t’ think about what went into it. They’re just experiencing it. Music you experience it and it gives you emotions and it becomes your personally thing. You know what I mean? It doesn’t matter what it meant to me, that’s not what’s important. What matters is what it meant to you. But then as the person who created it, yeah you think about like… it’s like making sausage. All the weird stuff that went into it, and the emotions, and the time, and the changes, and the whatever, the little arguments, and this and that. Just to make this thing that you ended up proud of and happy with. And that hopefully means something to someone else.
Jonathan Clarke: It is Nick Valensi & Darian Zahedi. The band is CRX. The new album is Peek. They’re playing the Mercury Lounge here in New York City tonight. All the tour dates crxmusic.com. I was not at Lollapalooza this year, but everyone said you guys, it’s one of the best shows they ever saw the strokes play.
Nick: Oh great!
Jonathan Clarke: How did it feel on stage? Was it… Did it feel that way to you as well?
Nick: It felt great. It was a great show. I actually stayed for some of the weekend. And you were asking me before if my family comes on tour with me ever, and that was one show where my daughter, my 12 and half year-old daughter in particular wanted to go to Lollapalooza and had a whole itinerary of bands that she wanted to see.
Jonathan Clarke: What band did she want to see?
Nick: Well there were several. Among them were, this guy, Conan Gray and Tame Impala. Tame Impala was a highlight for me too. The whole family can enjoy Tame Impala.
Jonathan Clarke: Yes.
Nick: And they were really actually fantastic.
Jonathan Clarke: I saw them once at radio city, they were so good, fantastic. Do you still have the Gibson ES 335 that Albert gave ya?
Nick: Yes. Although it’s not a Gibson 335, it’s… it’s kinda…
Jonathan Clarke: Epiphone?
Nick: It’s an Epiphone. Yeah. It’s kind of a copy of a Gibson 335, kind of, it’s an Epiphone Rivera.
Jonathan Clarke: Ah very nice.
Nick: He gave me to me long ago. I remember when we were first starting The Strokes and I just had the crappiest guitar that wouldn’t stay in tune, and the strings were like an inch away from the fretboard.
Jonathan Clarke: Oh no that sounds painful.
Nick: Yeah, I couldn’t, you know, I just did my best with this thing. And Albert one day came home from this used guitar shop with two guitars, a white Fender Strat and this orange Epiphone hollow body thing. And he was like “You can play one and I can play one!” and I was like “Wow that’s amazing! I wanna play the Strat!” and he was like “No the Srat’s for me! You’re gonna play this one.” And I was very grateful, and that guitar ended up becoming like kind of a signature thing for me.
Jonathan Clarke: Nick & Darian thank you guys so much. The new CRX album is Peek. It sounds fantastic.
Nick: Thanks Johnathan.
Darian: Thank you.
Jonathan Clarke: And it sounds fantastic on the radio which we’re gonna do right now actually. Everyone go see them tonight at the Mercury Lounge here in New York City and you can get all the tour dates for the band at crxmusic.com. Thanks guys.
Darian: Thank you.
Nick: Thanks for having us man, great to see you again.
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pluiejimin · 7 years ago
Text
The Truth (requested)
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Request:  Hi! Congrats on opening your writing blog! ☺️❤️ can i request a jimin x reader one shot based of the lyrics of The Truth Untold? Thank you so much~
Genre: fluff/angst
Warnings: none
A/N: sorry for taking so long with this request, i had it finished a couple days ago and honestly forgot to post it! *facepalm*, please excuse the suckiness, i haven’t written anything in soooo long and this my first time doing requests, anyways i hope you enjoy!
_
“Jimin,” you cry out, barely above a whisper.
“No y/n, dont- don’t look at me like that,” he stammered. “I’m sorry, but I meant what I said, this isn’t going to work out. My career is more important, and you’re just getting in the way. Move on, forget about me, forget about the boys, because we’ll do the same. You’re just a distraction for us all.”
And with that, Jimin was out of your life as quick as he entered it. You would never want to get in the way of his dreams, so you didn’t fight it, you just let him go.
It had been over nine months since the last time you had contact with Jimin, loving him was easy, but letting him go was hard. One by one, all of the boys eventually quit talking to you. Losing one best friend was heartbreaking as is, but losing all seven crushed you.
You were finally starting to get over him, all of the memories you had made with him and the boys had slowly begun to fade from your memory as you made new friends and new memories. Trying to date after Jimin was difficult, and for a while you avoided it, but when you met Jackson, who was sweet and funny, the idea of dating didn’t seem so bad. Jimin would want you to be happy, you thought to yourself.
_
Today had been a cloudy, rainy, day despite the predicted sunny forecast, trudging along, you splashed through puddles on your way home. You found out that the boys had released their newest album recently, your friend had been babbling about it nonstop while you sat at the coffee shop.
It killed you when she talked about them, it’s not like she knew she was hurting you at the mention of their names. They were idols, so trying to avoid their entire existence was hard when their faces were plastered everywhere. The friendship with the boys had been a secret, they were your secret and you were theirs.
“I won’t listen to it, I won’t.” You said to yourself on your way home, you were determined to fight the urges.
But you wanted to hear his voice, just once.
Im okay, that’s what you told yourself, until you heard track three, a soft ballad that made your heart sink listening to the lyrics and by the end of the song you were a sobbing mess, the rain mixing with your tears.
Your shoulders shook from your sobs, you were being irrational and you knew it, but it hurt, so damn much.
The sickness you felt in your stomach was like the break up had happened all over again, “This can’t be about me.”
You listened to the song, over and over again, the words seemed to cut deeper each time.
“I heard the song.” You typed out into a message, his name was still saved into your phone, like nothing had ever happened. His number had probably been changed by now but you sent it anyway.
Read 4:01 PM
Your heart drummed loudly in your chest you hoped you’d get a response, you just wanted him to say something, anything, but it never came.
_
Friday nights for you typically consisted of you tidying up your apartment, and winding down afterwards by watching your favorite shows.
You had settled down unto the plush couch, relaxed and almost asleep, until a knock at the door lured you from your comfort.
Dragging your feet to the door, blanketed in drowsiness and annoyance, you snatched it open. Who could it be at this ungodly hour?
Your heart sank, thrumming lowly in your chest, you froze at a standstill, staring at the beautiful boy that had broken you so long ago.
“Can I come in? I– I wanted to see you.”
You nod, stepping a side to let him.
Stepping back, you got a good look at him. He looked so different from the last time you saw him, he looked so tired and drained, his hair, his frame, everything was different.
“I’m sorry if I..”
“Why are you here Jimin?” You let out in a shaky breath, not realizing you’d been holding it in.
“Y/n, I miss you. I mean it, I lied when I told you I’d forget about you, I would never. I didn’t want to hurt you, honestly- lying to you was easier than facing the truth.”
He stepped closer, one hand outstretched to you, the other raking through his hair, something he always did when he was nervous.
“What are you talking about?” Your face contorted is confusion, what had he lied about?
“I’m trying to tell you, I just don’t know how to explain it.” He whispered, his eyes closing briefly.
“Afraid? Afraid of what? You’re confusing me Jimin.”
“I just,” he paused, his eyes staring into yours before he looked down. “I’m afraid to love you, and how could you love someone like me? I’m weak, and girls don’t want that, you don’t want that. I’m not worth being loved by anyone, let alone you, you’re so amazing, and I was so- so afraid that you’d leave me, I wanted to give you all the love you deserved, but I couldn’t, so I just pushed you away instead. I’m pathetic, and I’m afraid, so I hide from the truth.”
Your jaw slacked, you stared at him in shock, you felt dumbfounded. What made him feel this way? Standing and watching him fall apart in front of you had you second guessing yourself, was this your fault? Had you ever made Jimin feel he wasn’t worthy of being loved? Although you knew it wasn’t your fault, there was nothing you could have done to prevent him from feeling this way, you couldn’t suppress the guilt that weighed down on your chest.
“I feel stupid, coming here and confessing myself like this. I thought- I don’t know what I expected to happen.” He chuckled dryly to himself before turning to leave. 
You grabbed his wrist tightly, pulling him back towards you. “You don’t get to make my decisions for me. And you don’t get to tell me what I wanted. All I ever wanted was you Jimin. For who you are, nothing more than that. I just wanted us.”
“You don’t mean that.” His voice was cold.
“Yes I do. I still want you.”
“Why? Why would you want me?” Jimin’s voice cracked, his head hung low to hide the tears that brimmed his eyes, threatening to spill any second.
Your hand caressed his cheek, the pad of your thumb rubbing over it softly.
“Because I love you, and I don’t need you to be perfect Jimin. I just need you to be you. I don’t know what makes you believe you’re not worth being loved, I love you, your friends, family and your army, they love you. You’re are loved and cared for by so many, you have to to see that.”
Jimin leans in, brushing his lips over yours, pausing just before they meet, his eyes flickering to yours for permission.
Your head tilts into his, lips finally meeting, the sensation of his lips on yours had you spinning. Jimin’s hand slides to your waist, his touch is gentle, hesitant almost.
The hand that rests on the small of your back pulls you into him, the kiss is slow and passionate. His taste, his smell, everything about him had you dizzy.
Jimin pulls away, his forehead resting on yours before he leans in for another kiss, this one was needier, his hands slipped from your waist to your hips, grazing over them before they rest on your behind, pressing you against him firmly. He gripped you tightly, as if you’d suddenly float away if he let you go.
“I want to be with you, no one else.” You sigh against his lips. “I love you, okay?”
He smiles, biting his lip between his teeth. “Okay,” He assures with a nod, pressing his lips to your forehead.
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