white guest bedroom

Harry Styles Imagine!

So I had never really read any fan-fiction until yesterday. But I started reading and enjoyed it so much that I decided to write something too. It’s not that great and I’ll probably never write again but I just want to show it off a little.
It’s a small piece. Y/N and Harry are friends. She’s stuck somewhere at night and he comes and helps her out. It’s sort of cute. I hope.

The car sputtered and coughed before halting to a stop. Y/N couldn’t believe her luck. It was three in the morning, her head was throbbing from all the binge-drinking and a drunk Lou was splayed all over the backseat, mumbling something incoherent in her sleep. And now this very complex, ultra-modern had stopped working at some godforsaken highway in the vast state of California of which Y/N had absolutely no idea. Squelching the rising hysteria in her throat, Y/N took a deep breath and got out of the car, throwing on a large coat over her tiny black dress. She opened the back door for Lou in case she was going to be sick again.
Leaning against the car, she rummaged through her options. What could two girls, one of them practically a foreigner and the other intoxicated beyond comprehension, with no cellphones and no visible signs of metropolitan humans or technology, possibly do to reach home alive and safe?

“We should callr Harrrryyy. He lives somewhur herre” Lou slurred drunkenly before going back to sleep. Yeah right. “We can’t disturb him Lou. I’m sure he’s not even home.” Y/N scolds.
Wait, wasn’t Lou’s mobile working?  She shuffled through the backseat, quickly grabbed the phone and punched in the number for their hotel, holding her breath all this while. Except the call never went through. She tried five times, seven times, only to listen to a feeble beep each time, followed by a disconnected call. Frustrated, she plonked the phone back on the seat and made her way back to the highway, in the hopes of flagging down a car or a truck. Anything, anyone. She could do this. She had been through worse, back home. Like that one time when she was all alone and her engine had caught fire. At 12 in the night, in the shadiest area of the city and with no help in sight, considering her father’s usual uncooperative behaviour, she had to pay some men to push her car to the nearest bus top, from where she had taken a local bus to get home. The next morning she had to drag her ass to the local mechanic and get the godforsaken car repaired. ALL BY HERSELF. And it wasn’t even her car. It was her father’s stupid, broken old car that she had taken out to buy her mother a goddman birthday cake.
This one incident was reflective of her entire early life, it seemed. She had always been on her own, given how her parents had always been preoccupied by their problems and of course, with her three other siblings. After a point she had stopped complaining, gotten herself a decent education and a wonderful job in London. As an increasingly influential media person in the music industry, she not only got to travel all to her heart’s desire, but was rubbing shoulders with some of the most talented artists and singers. While the workload was immense, she could actually support her lifestyle AND send money back home. It was a perfect arrangement and she thanked the gods every day for her exceptional fortune. Except right now. Right now she was cold, anxious, hungover and on the verge of tears.

Her prayers were finally answered when a harmless looking SUV pulled up and a normal, average-sized man, who did not appear to be a serial killer, came out. In the course of next 10 minutes, the amiable man updated Y/N on their location, the nearest gas station/car-repair shop (which was miles away) and offered to drop the girls wherever they wished to go. Not used to this kind of generosity, Y/N immediately questions his intentions. Should she put herself, and Lou, in risk by taking a ride from this man? What if he had a basement where he kept girls? Maybe she could ask him to bring them some fuel in a bottle or something. But that wouldn’t work here, she wasn’t in her country after all. Maybe they both could just wait in the car till morning and then figure out a way.

As all these questions were fleeting through her mind, another car pulled up. A familiar car. A Range Rover to be precise. It couldn’t be. How on earth was Harry here? Their phones weren’t working and they were probably miles from his place.
He came out of the car, looking as good as usual, of course and made his way towards them. Y/N felt her stomach sinking a little. Her relationship with Harry was… unusual. Of course she worked for him, or rather his management, but due to their closeness in terms of age, she had struck an unlikely friendship with the boys, and all those associated with the band. She had even toured with them at times, which involved a lot of goofing around, sharing meals, travelling together as they all lived in confined quarters. Even back in London, they all met frequently for work-parties, press releases, conferences, all that shiz. So of course, their business interactions meant that they had to be friends, or at least cordial with each other. It was purely a consequence of events and nothing more.
She and Harry had had their “moments”, if you could call them those. For instance, that time when she had helped him escape a hoard of screaming fans by sneaking him into her apartment, or that time when she had hauled his drunk ass back to his hotel room. Nevertheless, for her, their arrangement was strictly professional. She realized that he was a high-profile celebrity and she was his employee. She was aware of it every minute of every day. Her behaviour was polite and friendly- talking to him when he talked to her, helping him out with stuff and of course doing her job for the management. But beyond that, she kept her distance.
Harry was actually, genuinely friendly- Its-late-why-don’t-you-stay-over-friendly and long-hugs-every-day friendly. And she Y/N was sure that’s how he was with everyone. But she wasn’t. So, in order to keep her sanity intact, she had drawn lines, thick lines. Lines she had drawn all her life, between herself and rest of the world. They kept her sound and balanced. The last time she had lost all control and thrown herself into a reckless friendship, followed by an equally reckless relationship, she had ended with up with no money and a ticket to the therapist’s office. Now she was back to her old, careful ways.

Blinking herself back to the present, Y/N focused on Harry who was now talking to the nice man. After seeing him off, Harry came and stood next to her, leaning against the car.
“So, how was your night?” he asked teasingly.
“Pretty wild as you can see” Y/N answered wryly.
“It’s a good thing I called then” said Harry, leaning away from the car to inspect Lou’s condition now.
“Called? When did you call?”
“I called Lou’s phone a while back. She told me that you guys where stuck somewhere. So I tracked her phone and voila!” said Harry.
Harry called? In her anxiety, she had completely forgotten to check on Lou or her phone for that matter.

Y/N and Harry then pushed Lou’s car off the main road and onto the side, and decided to send for a crane first thing in the morning. After putting Lou in the backs of Harry’s Range Rover, Y/N got into the passenger seat and turned to look at Harry. “So, you’re dropping us off at our hotel, right?” she enquired.
“It’s quite late for the hotel Y/N. My place is like 10 minutes away. I’ll set you guys up in the guest room and drop you off in the morning”. Y/N opened her mouth to argue against this violation of her boundaries but Harry had already revved up the engine. “You don’t have to look so uncomfortable y’know. I promise I won’t kill you” he said with a chuckle.

They parked inside a huge estate he referred to as his “house” and carried a wobbling Lou inside.
“Harry! You came!!! Y/N told me not to disturb you but you came anyway”, exclaimed Lou in her drunk-sleepy state. “She did, eh?” Harry muttered while tucking her into the clean white sheets of the guest bedroom.  Asleep again, she snored lightly. Harry smiled at her sleeping figure and came out quietly. He came to find Y/N preparing the couch for herself.
“You can sleep in my bed if you want. It’s huge” he grinned.
“Look at Harry Styles offering to share his bed with me. My dreams are finally coming true” Y/N joked, evading his question altogether.
Harry laughed sportingly and brought her a clean T-shirt and pyjamas. “Not just my bed, my clothes too, love” he said.

Cleaned and changed, Y/N settled herself on the couch, wrapping the duvet around her shoulders. Harry came and sat next to her. “Television?” he asked and Y/N nodded, so he turned on one of those comfortable, late-night romantic comedies. With her attention diverted to the TV, Harry observed Y/N and felt a twinge of tenderness for her.
He had known Y/N for over a year now and he was still trying to figure her out. He knew that she had come to London on scholarship to finish her studies after which she had joined Modest. He knew she worked for the Marketing and Operations department, and was assigned their band, along with two other artists. But beyond this, he didn’t know anything about her.
Of course, amidst all the touring, travelling and prepping for conferences, they had become friends. In fact, very close friends. He often asked her opinion on things, given how smart and intelligent she was and not to mention, witty. She cracked the best jokes, unlike him. She was always, ALWAYS, helping people, and not in a I-love-charity way, but the way regular people can if they try, you know, by giving out her leftovers to the homeless, or helping lost children find their mothers.
Harry loved how she treated him like a normal person, how for her, he was always the goofy guy who needed help choosing clothes or preparing a smoothie. He liked being around her. In fact, if she wasn’t so reserved, he would probably hang around her all the time. It was refreshing being around someone so honest, so devoid of any frills and formalities; someone who was actually kind and did not publicize it. For him, she represented a part of his life that was untouched, a happy place.
Yet, in spite of their familiarity, her detached demeanour did not escape him. He noticed the tiny things. How she had never asked him for a picture, any of them or how she always maintained this physical proximity, with him and the rest of the boys, never touching or hugging playfully, the way most friends do; and how she always averted her eyes from his phone while he was texting, and hesitated every time he asked her to fix his hair.
He couldn’t understand why she was SO private and it intrigued him even more. But every time he tried to ask her, she swiftly evaded his questions. Maybe it had something to do with her family. He had no idea about them except that she left the room each time her mother called, talking in a low, often agitated voice. He knew that she sent them almost half of her paycheck. He also knew about her university boyfriend and how it did not end well, all pieced together from whatever little information he had. Because she did not talk about these things. Anything but her personal life. You could ask her about her favourite movie and she won’t shut up but anything of personal significance would set her right off the edge.

Right now, drinking coffee from a mug in his old, oversized pyjamas she looked unlike her intimidating self. He remember how he had found her just hours ago, in that thought-provoking dress, deep in conversation with a strange man on the street.
She had told Lou not to call him. Even now, she hadn’t wanted his help and he couldn’t understand why it bothered him so much.
“I’m a little hurt Y/N”, Harry said.
“Why?” asked Y/N, peeling her eyes away from the screen.
“You told Lou not to call me. You both were in trouble and you still didn’t call me” said Harry, causing Y/N to shift uncomfortably.
“I tried calling the hotel but Lou’s phone wasn’t working” she answered.
“But you didn’t trying calling me” Harry complained.

Y/N was being forced to explain herself and she did not enjoy it one bit. Harry, on the other hand, was thoroughly enjoying this. He wanted some answers and he was going to get them.
“I thought you must be sleeping… or you must be out or something” Y/N said.
“No. You are not telling me the real reason. Come on, Y/N. We are friends. You never ask for my help. What’s the matter?” asked Harry, clearly not in the mood to end this conversation.
“I ju.. I just can’t take your help Harry. You are rich and famous and popular. You’re my employer! I can’t just call you at 3 in the morning and ask you to pick me up. I’m sure Lou can, but I just can’t. I can’t ask you for favours. It just feels like I’m using you because you’re Harry Styles. I know this sounds stupid but that’s how it is.”
Harry was a little shocked by her admission. Y/N thought Lou could ask him for help but she couldn’t?
“Hey”, he said gently. “This is not asking for favours. It’s you asking your friend to help you. That’s what friends do Y/N. My occupation doesn’t change my relationship with people”.
Y/N sighed.
“I know. I know. Look, I’ll try okay? To ask you for help. Even if I don’t need it” Y/N said with a smile.
Harry grinned at her. “I wouldn’t necessarily mind that”, he said before getting up to leave.
“Okay then. You should sleep now. Goodnight Y/N”
“Goodnight Harry”.