A/N: Hope you enjoy :)
Your best friend, Harry, calls you one afternoon, “‘Lo Y/N, can we do our movie night t'morrow night instead of t'night?”
“I guess so, why?”
“’Ve got a date t'night, and ’M gonna spend the night over there.”
Your heart drops. All you wanted was to spend time with Harry, and he’s going off with another girl. “Okay, that’s alright,” you finally answer.
“Thank yeh, I’ll call yeh t'morrow.”
You’re the first to hang up, and you spend the next few hours feeling down about Harry being on yet another date with someone other than you.
You’ve had feelings for Harry for years now, always hiding them in fear of ruining your friendship, but now you’ve hit your breaking point. You know Harry doesn’t feel the same about you, but you can’t keep having your heart broken, so you write a poem, a love letter of sorts, telling Harry how you feel and saying goodbye.
Early the next morning, you take the poem to Harry’s house, slipping in with the key he gave you. You’re about to leave the poem on his kitchen counter when you freeze. This was Harry, your best friend in the entire world. You couldn’t just walk away because at the end of the day you’d rather have Harry as just a friend than not at all.
You throw the poem in your bag, not bothering to close it in your haste to get out of his house. If you had looked back, you would’ve seen the poem fall to the floor in Harry’s entryway.
From there you decide to just drive. You have no idea where you are going or if there’s even a destination at all. You just know that you need to be away for a while to be alone with your thoughts. You had to be okay with the fact that Harry wouldn’t love you, that you two were just best friends, and after a while you accept that.
Harry pulled out his phone to call you as soon as he left the girl’s house, but you didn’t answer. At this, he began to worry. You always answered his calls or if you couldn’t talk, you texted him to let him know you were okay, but maybe you were just busy.
He passes your house on his way home, but your car isn’t there. He tries to think of where you could be, but he can’t remember you telling him that you had anything to do today.
Maybe you had gone to his house early, he hopes as he pulls onto his street, but he comes up to an empty driveway.
When he enters, he spots a note on the floor. He picks it up and reads,
We’ve always been the best of friends, even when we were young
You and Harry, just nine years old at the time, are running through his yard, not a care in the world. You play tag, follow the leader, and all the other fun children’s games.
“Y/N! Harry! Time for lunch!” You hear Anne yell from inside the house.
You sit down at the table with a smirk, stealing Harry’s chair.
“Hey, that’s my seat,” Harry tries to pull you from the chair, but you grip on tightly.
“Not anymore,” you tease.
Harry playfully glares at you before he pounces, tickling you. You wiggle in the chair in an attempt to escape the tickles, but you lean too far, and both you and fall onto the ground in a heap of giggles.
And I’ve always picked up the phone, whenever you’ve rung
You wake up to your phone ringing. Glancing at the clock, you realize it’s 4 AM. You dig your phone out from the mess of sheets on your bed and see Harry’s face lighting up the screen. “Hello?,” you have no idea why he’s calling you at 4 in the morning since he was supposed to be halfway across the world writing songs in some secluded studio.
“Hey, Y/N! I just finished a new song, you wanna hear part of it?”
“Harry, you realize it’s four in the morning here right,” you yawn.
Harry pauses and you can almost hear him doing the math in his head, “Oh yeah, ’M sorry f’ waking yeh up. ’Ll let yeh go back t’ sleep now.”
“I’m up now. Can I hear the song?”
He it for you while you fall back to sleep, “G'night Y/N.”
I’ve always been there for you, and you’ve been there for me
Harry comes over to your house after a date, his face telling you something went wrong.
“What happened?” You ask, pulling him into a hug.
“She broke up with me. Said m’ life was too much f’ her, and that I didn’t make her happy anymore,” Harry tells you.
“I’m sorry, Harry,” you try to comfort him as you lead him to your couch.
You lie there with him for a few minutes, and just when you thought he was falling asleep he says, “I really thought she was the one,” his tears finally falling.
You don’t know what to say to that, so you hold him and let him cry into your shoulder just as he had done for you when your grandmother died.
But you’ve fallen in love with them instead, so together we can’t be
“I met someone today,” Harry tells you on the phone one day.
“That’s great,” you try to sound happy for him.
“Yeah, she’s really nice, and she’s pretty, and I really like her,” Harry gushes.
This isn’t the first time Harry has told you about another girl, and you’ve learned to deal with it as best you could.
I’ve tried to distract myself from you, with dates that were pure torture
You’re on another date tonight. It’s your third date this month, each time with a different man. You reach the table to find today’s man already sitting there with an annoyed look on his face.
“Took you long enough,” he says as you sit down.
“It’s only five minutes after seven,” you say, checking the time on your phone. You were in for a long night.
The waitress comes and you both order your food, waiting in almost silence for your entrees to arrive.
“Finally,” the man complains when the food arrives. He inspects his food, “This was supposed to be cooked well done,” he practically yells at the waitress, “How could you mess up something so simple?”
“Sir, I’m sorry, I gave them your order correctly, but they must have made a mistake. I can take it back and have them remake it if you want,” the waitress reasons.
“Well couldn’t you have used your eyes to see that it wasn’t cooked correctly and gotten it fixed before you brought me the wrong dish?!” The man shouts. “The idiots they hire these days,” he adds to himself, shaking his head.
At this you’ve had enough, you stand, reaching into your wallet. You hand the waitress money for your food as well as a generous tip. “I’m so sorry,” you apologize before leaving the restaurant.
But it’s you I always run back to, when I think about our future
Harry cuddles with you on his couch with his arms around you. You’re watching a movie while you recount your bad date to Harry, “He was awful.”
“Awe come on, he couldn’t ’ve been that bad.”
“He couldn’t have been worse. He was even rude to the waitress,” you scrunch your nose in disgust.
Harry laughs at your face and pulls you closer. It’s not long when you drift off to sleep in each other’s arms.
I couldn’t help but fall in love with you, now more than ever before
It all hits Harry at once. You loved him. Looking back, he can see it now. Every hug, every phone call, every look, was filled with love that he mistook for friendliness.
So how can I still be your friend, when all I want is more
Another realization hits him. He wants more too.
I’m sorry I have to say goodbye, since you mean more to me than you know
Now, just when Harry understands how much you mean to him, you’re saying goodbye.
I never meant to hurt you, but I’m sorry, I have to go
Harry doesn’t know how he’s overlooked his feelings for you for so long, and now that he’s finally figured it out, you’re gone. He has to find you and tell you how he feels.
Harry checks all of your favorite spots around town, but you’re nowhere to be found. He tries your house one more time and is relieved to see that you’re home. He rushes out of his car and to your door.
You jump when you hear a knock, finding Harry on your doorstep.
“I read your poem, Y/N,” Harry steps inside.
“What? How?” Your face goes pale, your eyes widen in shock, and your entire being is sent into a panic, “You were never supposed to read that.”
“It was on m’ floor. I don’t know how I wouldn’t ’ve read it,” Harry says matter-of-factly, “Y/N,
“No,” you interrupt, “I’m sorry, I must have dropped it on the way out, but I never meant for you to see that poem. I mean, I did when I first wrote it, but when I got to your house, I just froze. I couldn’t give you the letter, and I couldn’t say goodbye because that’s selfish. I know you can’t control who you fall in love with, and I understand that you don’t love me, and I’ve accepted that because I need you in my life, Harry, even if we’re just friends —”
“Y/N,” he grabs your hands to stop your rambling, “’M not going anywhere. I love yeh. I always have, I just didn’t know it.”
“What?” You stop in shock.
“Reading that poem made me think back t’ all our time together, and I realized that ’s you. ’S always been you, Y/N, and ’M sorry it took me so long to realize it, but please just give me a chance,” Harry pleads.
You’re not sure what to think at first. You should be happy, after all, this is what you wanted, but you can’t help but wonder if he’s really sincere.
Harry, sensing your worries, cups a hand to your cheek, “’M serious, I love yeh.”
The look in his eyes tells you he means it, and he leans down to kiss you. It only lasts a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity, both of you pouring out pent up emotions and love.
Harry pulls back for a second. His forehead still resting against yours. “I love yeh,” he repeats with a smile.
“I love you too, Harry.”
“Be mine,” it wasn’t so much of a question as a statement.
“I’ve always been yours,” you reply.
Harry kisses you again, even more passionately than the first time, as if you were making up time for all the years you both ran from your feelings, and you’re suddenly thankful that you dropped the love poem.