When Harry Styles sets off for Provincetown, MA from his tiny hometown of Kerkhoven, MN, he’s facing an uncertain future. He’s always planned to leave, just…not like this. When he meets a gorgeous cabaret performer on his first night in P-town, little does he know how his life is about to change, or how much he has yet to learn. When they become more than just friends, Louis makes it clear he’s not looking for anything serious, but at least, Harry consoles himself, they’ll always be friends. Over one extraordinary summer, Harry learns to navigate life on his own through a journey of self-discovery and sexual awakening. But when Harry’s past tragically reappears in his life, will his friendship with Louis be able to hold on?
Art by the amazing artist, Elliott @blueylouie . I’ve never worked with an artist before, and it was an incredible experience. Mainly, he did his thing and I just went WOW and cried a bit (a lot).
This fic has been in the works for nine and a half months. There are so many people I have to thank, I don’t even know where to begin.
So, SO many people have supported me in the writing process from the very beginning and I love you guys, so much. My Squadron, my Oop for It friends, my Larrying friends. I hope you know how much I love you and how much you have made a difference in my life with so much more than just writing.
To my advance readers and betas. To Stacy, daysundercover, a-writerwrites, femmequixotic and noeeon - you lovely, lovely people. I cannot thank you enough for your help, your support, your criticisms and the push to keep writing when I got lazy. THANK YOU SO MUCH and a million kisses to each of you.
The words Harry once neglected before were now imprinted in his mind, not leaving once you did. It was those simple words he knew not to fuck up ever again.
He knows how you are. He knows what you meant by those words. He knows that by what you said, it didn’t mean that you want God to forbid you from being tired physically. He already knew you are every day.
You meant that you didn’t want to get tired in the aspect that you were more than ready to give up. Harry knew how well you could keep up because he’s seen it before.
And God forbid you get tired of him.
There was a thought that appeared from his sub-conscious, making him almost jump in his seat in response of how much he hated it, his large hands gripping his hair.
Alcohol isn’t advisable nor recommended at the moment. It wouldn’t help his case and he knew that exactly.
You though of it too. But minutes later, you found yourself sitting next to the mini refigerator your room has with a beer in hand, putting a bill on the counter with a note because you didn’t want to be like one of those obnoxious guests.
The floor and the beer’s cold, and so is Harry’s flat. He didn’t want to call it home because you weren’t there with him and so was he mentally to be even considered as one.
“Can I call now?”
Harry’s hands were shaking, his thumb reaching out to press ‘send’ along with his hand that reached for your blanket you used to wrap yourself in whenever you were waiting for him, squeezing it.
It took every bit of Harry to stop himself from hurling objects across the room. He’d close his eyes and breathe deeply, until your words of “Self-control, love.” came into effect. He admits that he doesn’t have the longest of tempers and the highest dosage of control.
His attention is fully fixed on his phone now, another pang on his chest when he saw your reply.
He specifically told you not to put periods at the end of your messages because it scared him. Maybe it’s the changed meaning every time there’s a punctuation, maybe it’d the formality.
And right now, he has every reason to be.
“Don’t get tired on me yet. You’re not going to get tired, you’re not. You’re not tired.”
Harry muttered the words once you accepted the call, not letting a single second going to waste since he precisely has 300 of it.
He’s slowly losing his right state of mind without you by his side. He was so used to being tolerated for the way he is that he forgot how to not feel when it was the other way around.
“It’s not for me to decide but I’m trying to influence you to it. The only time you’re going to be tired is when we’re gonna take care of our future kids. You’re only going to be tired when you’re out of breath not because of a fight, but from something we both like.”
Harry’s tears were pouring involuntarily with him not having any control over it, the hoarseness of his voice slightly hurting his throat from speaking faster normally than how he did.
“You’re only going to be tired when we’re packing bags to go on vacation and on tour. You’re only going to be tired from jet lag and lack of sleep and not from us. The only time you’re going to be tired is when we fight with our kids and that’s it.”
The hurt in his chest was starting to get unbearable now, the grip on the blanket to the point where his hand was going numb and his knuckles going white were getting the best of him.
His voice cracked, completely letting go of his ego and his pride, a desperate plea coming from his lips he’s willing to repeat if that’s what’s going to make you agree.
“You’re not going to get tired on me, Y/N. And that’s final.”
He used up a minute, being scared of the remaining ones because those are the last moments he’s going to hear your voice for that day.
“I know I haven’t gave you the best of reasons to not be, and I know that. I do. But love, please listen to me.”
“I know what you’re doing.”
His heart skipped a beat when he heard your voice since he didn’t expect for you to talk, he knew silence was the only thing you could muster in times like these.
“I’m trying to make you come home.”
“Is there home?” you asked in a whisper and ended with a harsh tone in your voice.
His grip loosened, opening and closing his hand repeatedly until he could feel the warmth go back to his veins again.
“Do you love me?”
Harry felt rigid, a cold shiver down his spine from what you asked because he never thought it would come to this. He never thought that you would ask him for confirmation if he still loves you because at moments like this, there was no other choice.
You leaned your head against a cabinet which made you let out a cry, not because of the pain but because of what he answered, an angry cry coming out of your lips that alerted Harry, sitting up straighter.
“Then why the hell did you do it?”
He felt his breathing come shallow, his gaze going elsewhere that didn’t make any sense.
“Because I only thought of myself.”
Maybe you were too selfless that you put Harry on top of your priorities that you weren’t on his.
“Because I wasn’t thinking.”
You remembered all the nights you would greet him by the door with a hug he’d reciprocate half to, ignoring the pain it caused because you love him too much that it hurt you.
“Because I wasn’t thinking of you and I deeply regret that.”
You spilled too much over the tipping point of your rock-bottom, the pain being overwhelming that you were momentarily numb from it until he spoke again.
“There isn’t anyone like you. And I’d rather not have the chance to find that out because I’m not going to take any.”
His voice was stern yet still gentle, a tone on his voice that you barely heard these past few months.
“I’m selfish; I know. I do know that. I’m selfish when it comes to having you because I just am.”
Harry breathed in deeply, his tears decreasing and so is his voice.
“I may not be the best at all things. But I know I’m selfish when it comes to having you because you make me feel like I am. And Y/N, I love that.”
He was starting to get calm now but not too much that he was confident of having you again since he didn’t want to jinx it, a tentative look on the door.
“Please come back here. I know — I know that I don’t hold the many promises that I make but I swear to God that this is real.”
He closed his eyes, wanting to desperately feel you by his side.
“You are my home.”
The phone dropped, making Harry almost break down right then and there and doubt himself that he didn’t try hard enough. That maybe he was too stupid to take you for granted and have this result.
He was so close to hurling his phone against the wall but no, he decided against that because he’s going to call you tomorrow. Maybe he’s going to call you so he put it down again, an uneasy look on his face.
Minutes or hours passed since he wasn’t sure of it passed and he spent the majority of it crying. He didn’t know why but he chose to relive by the words you told him and how broken you looked. He didn’t know why but it pained him to realize that he’s going to be the only one to do that to you.
He doesn’t know whether it’s a privilege or not.
And so, just as he felt to break the rules and let a friend track your call, the door opened.
You were there standing, a moment of realization hitting you from the moment that you ended the call is that you wouldn’t have it either way.
You’d rather be hurt because of Harry than to not at all.
He stood up instantly, taking careful steps towards you before it sank in him, hugging you so tightly and closely that you could feel his tears streaming down on your neck.
He cried onto you, heavy breathing filling the aie as you let him do it, your arms wrapping around him which made him more than grateful.
He whispered the words, but still loud and powerful enough for you to hear and to be inked forever into you.
You knew it later on by his song, yet it was the most precious to him since it held the most meaning to him, and so did it on to you, letting him convice you to get the title inked onto you, still in the meaning where only he gets to know.
Kind of a weird question, but if all the boys had gone to high school together, which ones do you think would have been friends? Or would they have all been in separate friend groups?
I think they would have been in separate friend groups but all interconnected in some way.
Like Liam is sort of a jock and that’s how he knows Niall because even though Niall’s not even on a team (bum knee and all) he’s somehow always at his rugby practices cheering everyone on as a sort of unofficial mascot.
Which is also how Niall know’s Harry because while Harry seems to be a sort of social floater, he’s also the school newspaper’s photographer so he’s always taking pictures of practices and games and Niall’s somehow in every single on of them.
And that’s how Harry know’s Zayn because he has to use the dark room to develop some of his artsier shots and Zayn’s always using the dark room taking naps during his free period even though he told his teacher he was going to work on his art. After Harry and Zayn exchange some friendly conversation about what tattoos they’re gonna get in the future, Zayn will retreat under the bleachers which is how he originally met Louis, the football star and drama student extradtraordinare who can’t be bothered to go to class if it isn’t music, drama, or gym. They smoke together and sometimes Niall will come to join them when he gets bored watching whatever the hell he’s watching. Louis and Zayn would be annoyed by his constant cheeriness and his refusal to partake in smoking (unless it’s of the more herbal variety), but they they sort of love him despite themselves.
Louis eventually always sneaks away from Zayn and Niall and lies about going to pull a prank, but really he’s off to audition for the musical which is how he knows Harry. They’re in all the shows together and because they’re never up for the same roll, they’re sort of comrades in arms who run lines together and practice the choreography when no one is looking even though they’re both dreadful at it.
After tryouts for the musical Harry’s feeling nervous because he really wants a good part so he texts Liam, his lifting buddy, to meet him in the weight room so they can lift together like they often do. Liam doesn’t get Harry’s long hair and skinny jeans, and Liam’s lack of proper grammar in texts is appalling to Harry but they get along really well anyway.
After saying goodbye to Harry, Liam will go home and blow off homework to go next door to Zayn’s who’s his childhood best friend. They grew up together and although they run in different social circles and don’t see each other often at school, they still hang out all the time playing video games and talking shit about how they’re gonna be something someday.
This was written long ago so unfortunately I am still indeed in my writing funk. My brain doesn’t seem to want to co-operate. Enjoy the Dad Harold feels.
“I miss it.” The phrase was muffled by your chest were Harry
had decided to rest his head for the night. His words were accompanied by slow
strokes over your stomach, your t-shirt pushed up to bundle around your
breasts. There was still a slight bump adorning the soft area, only being a
month post-partum. Parenthood was…challenging, to say the least. It was no lie
that there was no manual to raising a child, but you were proud of your efforts
so far, considering you were first time parents.
“Miss what, baby?” The movements of your hand fiddling with
the hair at his nape slowed and your eyebrows furrowed with confusion. You were
longing to bring your daughter to join you and Harry on the bed, but seeing as
this was only one of the few moments of peace you and Harry have had together
since her arrival, you decided she was best off in her crib that accompanied
your side of the bed. Harry had complained numerous times, but shut up once you
reminded him she could be on his side once he produced the right functions to
feed her at 3am.
“The bump, an’ havin’ her close. I mean, I love holdin’ ‘eh,
but I feel like she growing too fast. I wish we could just rewind.” Your heart
burst with love and gratitude; you silently laughed at the fact he thought she
was growing too fast. It had only been a month and she was still tiny, her
clothes hanging off her frail body. You were watching her now through the gaps
of the bars on her crib. She stirred every now and then and you held your conversation
until she settled back down.