Y/N had tried her best to fall asleep. Tried to ignore the noise that New York was. She’d hailed a cab from the restaurant to her hotel, bidding good bye to her cousin, thanking him for taking time out of his day to keep her company.
She didn’t however excuse the sudden need to get out of the restaurant when Harry came into view. And her cousin didn’t ask questions, guys normally don’t.
But in the darkness of her room, she couldn’t keep out the thoughts of Harry taking over her mind. She tossed and turned, checked the clock to see it had only been seven minutes since she’d last checked it.
So when the soft knock on her door caused her to sit up abruptly, she thanked the heavens for the short break it allowed her mind to take from thoughts of Harry.
That is, until she heard his voice.
And if she was being honest, as unprepared as she was for this, she knew she had to talk to him. That is why she came to the city after all, wasn’t it?
Harry’s words were able to erase every doubt that Y/N had before last night. They laughed at how oblivious they both were; at the fact that obvious signs that they wanted more than to stay friends went over their heads.
They sat on the hotel room couch, talking about anything that happened during that short time they weren’t talking.
Harry listened and watched Y/N talk about how she would still do lunches with Gemma. Even admitted that she would try to find a way to bring Harry into conversation just to see if he was doing okay.
Harry confessed that he knew, because Gemma told him, and Y/N could not have gone a darker shade of pink.
Harry recounted to her every moment he could remember of when the boys teased him, mimicking their voices the best he could to make her laugh.
“So then it was really me you lot were whispering about all those times?” Her giggle has Harry smiling like a child who’s just found out their crush likes them back.
And it’s not that she doesn’t believe him, it’s just nice hearing him say it.
“Wha’ ye’ laughing for?? Was a real pain in the ass. Wouldn’t leave me alone ‘bout it.”
She laughs even harder then.
“D'ye know how hard it was t'keep them from sayin’ anythin’ t'ye? Didn’t wan’ ye’ finding out over one of Louis distasteful jokes.”
“I’m surprised I didn’t actually.”
Harry chuckles at that, reminiscing on the countless times Louis’ comments nearly got him caught.
All in all, it was nice.
It was nice to have Harry back. To have him on the verge of tears at her lame jokes.
“Knock, knock!” Y/N excitement grew because she had honestly just came up with this one.
“Who’s there?” Harry loves jokes. He loves telling them and having people laugh because they think his jokes are witty. He’ll even take people laughing at them because they’re plain idiotic. Harry also loves being told a joke, especially if it’s Y/N.
“Woo.” And she’s trying to contain herself.
Harry and Y/N are similar in the way that when they’ve got a real funny joke to tell, or at least they think they do, they laugh for a ridiculous amount of time before they’re even able to tell it. Or they’ll start their joke, and as they rehearse it in their head, they’ll explode into laughter, eyes squinty and arms over their tummy because “s'a real good one okay! Jus’ wait.” This usually has others rolling their eyes at them because no one they know takes longer to tell a joke than they do.
“She’s an angel.” Harry thinks her excitement is priceless as she points at him with both index fingers. And he follows her lead for the sake of seeing her smile.
“Woo who! My only angel, woo who! She’s an angel, woo who! My my my my only angel!”
After that, she begged for an encore. Actually, she had him sing bits and pieces from songs she wanted to hear raw, unplugged with no instruments. Harry, of course, complied.
Now, waking up to each other isn’t much different now than it was a few weeks ago when they were nothing more than best friends.
Back then, if Harry wanted to lightly peck at her shoulder for some sort of reassurance that yes, his Y/N was still with him, he would. He would do it first thing when he woke up, a sour taste in his mouth because he needs to wash his teeth. And she never minded, returned his affection with a smile, hooded eyes crinkling because sometimes it was still too early for her.
Back then, if Harry wanted to cuddle her whilst they lounged about at a friends house, he would. Didn’t matter if he was having a conversation on the couch with someone else. The moment Y/N walked by in front of him, he would tug at her hand until she settled next to him, which never took much. She would roll her eyes at him, but smile none the less as he tucked a hand underneath her knees, moving them to rest on top of his thigh. He would then proceed with the conversation he’d been having, hand on Y/N’s calve.
It was normal for them, and their friends never asked questions anymore.
The only difference now, is that if Harry wanted to wake her up with a kiss to the lips, he can.
And Y/N no longer feels the need to come up with some excuse when Harry suddenly wakes and catches her staring at him.
Instead, she smiles warmly, gripping at the heavily tattooed hand that rests on her waist.
“Mmm, mornin’,” he manages, voice raspy enough that he coughs once to try and make his words sound clearer, “starin’ at my face were you?”
Y/N doesn’t try to hide it. She likes the way he’s looking at her, one eye peeking open, half a smile visible because half of his face is still pressed against the soft hotel mattress.
He stirs a bit, propping himself up on his forearm only to plop back down on his tummy, body closer to hers.
Harry smiles wider at the touch of her fingers raking through his hair to get it away from his face, the pads of them grazing his scalp.
Still the same.
Harry’s arm lazily slung over her made her feel comfortable…safe. It’s not nearly as close as they’ve been before when they cuddle in bed, but something about his dopey smile and squinty eye has her feeling giddy. Because finally, she doesn’t have to hide the side of her she’s been wanting him to see. Affectionate in another sense, affectionate in a more free way.
“S'that bad?” Y/N cuddles herself even closer, turning on her side and leveling her eyes to his.
Harry says nothing.
“Tell me again?”
And he doesn’t need to ask what she means by that.
He simply moves to scoot closer again, lifts up his head to look at her better, and presses a kiss to her forehead.
“I love you.”
Y/N doesn’t remember how she got home.
She can’t believe she let herself get so upset over Harry interacting with his friends that she got so pissed drunk to the point she can’t remember much from last night.
It’s all a haze, and if she knew she would be sporting a killer hangover, she would have stopped on the second drink.
She reaches for the water and bottle of pills laid on the night stand, clearly aware that it must’ve been him who placed them there for her.
Two pills in one gulp.
Even though the window curtains are closed, she can make out the lining of light that manages to seep through the edges of the material. And she really can never thank him enough for always taking care of her, especially when she gets like this and her tolerance wears thin.
"Harry?” She whispers, and again, no answer.
She can see the outline of his body sat on the chair by the corner of the room, slumped over, hands running through his hair.
“Hey. Baby? You okay?"
As much as she wanted to stay in place, tucked under the comfort of the duvet, she needs to see if he’s okay. So she turns on the nightstand lamp, wincing in the process, and lifts up the covers. She crawls to the foot of the bed, head tilting in a way to try and get a better look at him.
"C'mere.” She pats the spot next to her. She would get up and go to him if she could, but she doesn’t trust her body enough to get her across the room with out falling at some point.
Harry doesn’t say anything still. But she notices the way his body shakes, and even he can’t completely silence the sobs escaping his lips.
“Harry! Babe, no, no-” her frantic voice causes Harry to look up for a mere second, long enough for Y/N to make out the redness of his eyes, tears trailing down his cheeks.
He wipes at them hastily, bowing his head back down, trying to shut her out.
How could Harry even think this girl looked anything remotely like his Y/N?
His heart is racing still, mind going at a million miles an hour, but blank at the same time.
It’s shock that’s keeping him here. Sat on a bed foreign to him, next to a girl who’s seeming to be sleeping peacefully while his world falls apart.
What the fuck is he to do??
He doesn’t think twice, he needs to talk to someone. He needs advice.
But the minute he does it, the minute he opens his mouth and reaches out to someone..anyone..it’s out there.
So if part of him wanted no one to find out, why has he phoned Louis?
“Calm down, mate.” Harry doesn’t care much for the tone in Louis’ voice, he needs to talk to him.
“Look, Harry. I can’t understand what you’re sayin’ if you won’t call down!”
“Fuck, Louis!” He exasperates, “I fucked up. I fucked up and Y/N’s g'na hate me. I can’t lose her, Lou. Not her.”
Louis can recall a handful of times Harry’s gotten himself into serious trouble. He’s always been able to keep it on the low though. But for Harry to call him this distressed, stumbling over his words, and practically crying. That’s something else. He can’t recall the last time he’s heard him this shaken.
“I don’ know who she is, Lou. I’ve got no fucking clue who this is.”
“Harry,” Louis really doesn’t wanna assume the worst, but he can’t think of anything else Harry would be frantically going on about that has to do with a chick, “what did you do?”
“I don’ know. I woke up in a bed tha’s not mine. Stripped down t'my briefs.”
This is never a conversation either of them thought they’d ever be having.
“Did you use protection?"
Shit. SHIT! That hadn’t even crossed his mind.
"I don’ know."
Y/N can’t think of a single thing that might have Harry like this. She hops off the bed almost too fast, but catches herself before she can trip.
"Love, why’re you crying?” She tugs at his hands to try and pry them away from his face, but he barely budges.
“Talk to me, H. Whatever it is we can get through it."
The soft strokes of her hands on his thighs do little to nothing. How is he suppose to tell her?? How. What can he say? She’s going to hate him. But he can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. How could he have done that to her?
"Harry, please, baby!"
His heart breaks a bit more at the sound of her voice cracking, unable to contain herself.
He wants to tell her he loves her. He loves her so much that he can’t imagine Harry with out Y/N. Wants to tell her Harry doesn’t exist with out Y/N. But where does he start.
The silence is eating at Y/N. It’s beginning to feel like there’s not enough air in the room. She continues to beg Harry to tell her what’s wrong.
"You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want, H.” But she wishes he would. “Just tell me you’re okay,” still, the strokes of comfort from Y/N’s thumb on his waist fail at calming the uneasiness.
A million things are going through her mind. But the only one she’s stuck on is literally squeezing at her heart.
What did she do?? Is this the end of them?