For the following request: “Could you please do a blurb where harry and the reader get into an argument?”
This one is rather long, and angsty… Hope you all enjoy :) x
“What do you mean you can’t come? We’re in the bridal party, Harry..” you trail off meekly, staring at him with wide eyes over the top of your laptop.
He’s leaning against the doorway of your shared room with his arms crossed against the chest of the white t shirt he has on, tattooed arms glowing in the light of the sunset that’s streaming through the parted curtains, “Christ, love.. I kno’. But there’s nothin’ I can do… yeh kno’ I’d be there if I could.”
You blink at him in disbelief over your screen before you lower it to a close, sitting up on the bed and curling your legs towards you as you set the computer aside. You’re at a loss for words and the silence in between you two is deafening. He’s talking about missing your sister’s wedding this weekend, a wedding that has been planned months in advance.
“Say somethin,” he commands with a rasping voice, causing you to look up at him from your shocked reviere.
“Can’t you talk to Jeff? Harry everyone’s expecting us…” you try again with a weak voice, tilting your head at him. All your extended relatives were excited to meet Harry, but most especially your grandparents.
He sighs deeply and pushes off the doorway, making his way towards you and sitting on the bed next to you. He covers your knee with a hand, giving it a loving squeeze as he looks you carefully in the eye, “Tried, my love. S’just something ‘ve got t’do. S’fo m’job innit?”
His last statement makes the dropping sense of disappointment in your stomach pause for a moment. He has a point. In all your time with Harry, you hadn’t often resented his career. It was a lot to handle, yes. From the hate, to the never ending flashes of cameras, to the overwhelming feeling of him being gone time and time again. His career was something he worked so hard for and he made you so proud. He handled as much as he personally could with charm and a careful heart, and even if you weren’t dating him- you know you’d admire him. Especially with his upcoming album, one that he’s worked so tirelessly for, one that you had convinced him was golden time and time again, you know this last minute nuisance of a event is crucial. And although the overwhelming part of you wants to throw a fit, you know you won’t.
His eyes are sincere and his brows are furrowed as he watches every inch of your face closely. You can tell he feels guilty, and you shake your head boldly before clearing your throat, “Y-yeah You’re right. It’s okay, Harry.”
Harry sighs with relief, giving you a boyish grin before he leans forward and presses a puckering kiss to your cheek in appreciation, “S’my girl. Knew yeh would understand fo’ me.”
That had been 4 days ago, and you thought you would understand. Because you had time and time again, but now, sitting with your hair pinned up in two dozen different places and aching feet to accompany your sour mood- you think otherwise. It had been a succession of events that had led you to feeling so… damn sorry for yourself. From your cousin having to step in to accompany you in the bridal festivities, to answering the question of Harry’s whereabouts from countless relatives, to Harry not even sending you a text throughout the day, and to now- watching the couples of all types dancing away: daddy/daughter, bride and groom, old aunts and uncles, and your parents. You feel completely alone in a room full of people, and slightly humiliated too.