Harry At The Late Late Show With James Corden.

LOVE ON TOUR | Chicago Night 6- 10/15

I can't help myself 😍

Harry Styles the GANGSTA

Cute ❤️

-𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 || 𝐇.𝐒

Pairing: best friend!harry x reader

Content warning: fluff, talks of Fiancé’s and Ex’s & love

Word count: 2k

A/n: guess how long I’ve had this puppy in my drafts? ok but i never give my one-shots part two’s but I’m thinking ab it… I really like it… enjoy:) masterlist

Sex, talk, heartbreak, clogs. All a part of the most exotic parties— ones Harry threw at least.

We were three hours in; sweat drenched our hairline and underarm’s, tequila was starting to taste like water, and the weird party lights we had since god-knows-when made me dizzy until I was nauseous.

The guest bathroom was shut, moans leaking through the creaks under the door. I hated bathroom hoggers. The only restroom left in this little home was the one in Harry’s room. It was kept locked so Harry wouldn’t get infested with crabs.

It was one of those locks that could be opened by a penny, or the tip of an acrylic nail.

Every ounce of food and liquid I consumed was huddling at the tip of my tongue. I nearly missed the toilet (I halfway did).

“You’re cleaning that up tomorrow.”

I pulled away from the toilet with a blazing throat and mouth that tasted like bad dip. My head spun so much I couldn’t focus on the voice.

I’m going crazy.

The shower curtains shook open. I turned and caught Harry’s lopsided smile— the dimpled one that never failed to make my stomach bubble (in a good way).

“Why are you hiding in there?” I asked, letting the weight of my head naively rest on the toilet seat.

He huffed through his mouth. Then, I saw right past his facade.

Sarah guessed three shots, Mitch guessed two, I guessed 12 AM. The answers didn’t match, but I figured it would take time to let something devastating sink in rather than drinks. We made a bet on when the high of the party would go down and he was faced with the fact that his fiancé was now his ex-fiancé.

“Too many people.” He grumbled, playing with the hem of his shirt.

The toilet flushed and I was back on my feet throwing a towel on the puked bit of floor before making my way over the tub.

“You don’t fit.” He half-groaned, half-laughed.

“I’ll make myself fit.” I snuggled myself between his crossed legs and the cold tile beside the faucet. It was a tight space, but he was thin enough for us to both fit. Uncomfortably, that is.

“You look like you had fun.” He said.

“Hm, what gave it away?” I sighed, closing my eyes to relieve myself of the nausea that was coming back.

“You haven’t puked like that since we were teenagers.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the memory. We had the bright idea of going to this popular’s girl party in year 11. We left drunk, and in so much trouble. One of the cops that caught us just happened to be our neighbor and drove us home without punishment.

Our mums didn’t hold back, though. I threw up my guts the next morning; as if that didn’t make me feel horrible enough, Harry had to watch as punishment, with Anne giving us a well-worded lecture about how disappointed she was and how she hopes we learn from our mistakes.

It only took us a couple tries.

“I still feel horrible about that night.” I wipe a tear away, stomach aching from laughter.

“It was very traumatizing. I thought I saw you threw up blood.”

“It was hot Cheetos.” I laughed hard, and so did he.

I closed my eyes for just a second to let myself breath. But he patted my knees.

“How’re you holding up, with the-“

“The ex-boyfriend thing?”

“Yeah…”

“Better…” I could sense that Anne ‘that’s a lie’ look he gained as he got older, so I shortened the lie and laughed, “Not so well.”

One of those laughs that reveals how hurt you are before you burst into tears.

I hated myself for leaving Him with so much power over my emotions. But it’s hard to move on from someone you saw everyday, made love to every other day, and told your secrets to because you trusted them.

Trust is a silly thing. Just as love.

Harry would know.

My face grew warm, and wet. Harry rubbed my knee, comfortingly. He knew this pain, this territory. But never were we both in the same state, disregarding our feelings to take care of one another. It felt foreign and I started to feel useless.

I hated that my heart hurt while his heart hurt, but maybe in a way, it’ll bring us closer together.

He sniffled. “God, I hate when you cry. It makes me cry.”

I opened my eyes to catch him wiping his tears. Then, I found myself crying more for afflicting my pain on him. Fuck drunk minds, and fuck stupid exes.

“Harry, don’t cry.” I whined.

He groaned before rubbing his eyes.

“Come on,” he patted my knee again, straightening himself in his spot to get up. He sniffled once more before he stepped over and offered me his hand. I stared at it, blearily. “Come on.” He said again.

Then I took his hand and stood a little too fast for my head. He held my hips in place until I gained balance.

“Don’t slip, you knob.” He laughed. He took one of my arms over his shoulders and led us the small patio outside his room.

There weren’t many people outside. Maybe a couple smoking a joint or two, converting in quiet voices.

“You think you’ll be able to climb up.” He pointed to the latter at the side of his house. If I hadn’t gone up there so many times before, drunk me would deny, but instead she gave me a boost of confidence.

“Psh! Yeah!”

He stared at me with his eyes wide. Even I heard my loud slurred words.

“We can stay-“

“Just hold my bum up, Harry.” I said, already making my way to the third step.

He gripped onto my waist firmly. All of a sudden I thought of all those times I’ve been touched on the waist; sexually, comfortingly. His hands felt hot, like they could burn a hole into my skin.

“Did you change your mind?” He says.

I looked at my spot on the latter, frozen still, then I shake my head.

I continued step after step, Harry’s grip getting looser and lower as I climbed higher.

Just hold my bum up, Harry.

Finally, I made at the very top and the weed stench was wary from here. Carefully, I roamed the top. Random tools and one of Harry’s old fisherman hats were up here.

“When was the last time you came up here?” I asked.

The latter wobbled some more before he responded with a grunt. “Erm, about three months I think.”

I could tell. The blue was turning brown and some of it was covered in bird turd. If anything it looked like it had been up here for years.

“Shit, that’s where my lucky hat went.”

He picked it up and for a second I thought he was going to put it on his head.

“Please don’t put it on.”

And for a second I couldn’t believe I doubted him.

He put it over his head and turned to look at me with a happy smile.

“You didn’t even smell it. You’ll have lice!”

He laughed and took it off to give it a whiff. Immediately, his face scrunched in regret.

“Oh god, that is-“

“Gross?”

He laughed hard enough to almost fall to his knees.

He opened his eyes to look at me with a peak of mischief. “You wanna smell it?”

“Absolutely not.” I slowly inched away.

“Just take a whiff, love.” He tilted it towards me.

“No, Harry.”

I eyed the hat as he grew closer and closer to me.

“I’m not kidding when I say I’ll murder you in cold blood, Harry.”

“You would do no such thing!” He whined.

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?”

With a blink of my eye, he took his chance. I tried to run past him but he was too fast.

He wrapped his arm around me and waved the hat in my face. I gagged, inhaling every bit of sour, wretched, sweat infused scent of it.

“YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE!”

“Plead for mercy!” He shouted deliberately.

“I plead! I plead!”

He laughed and let me go. Once the horrifying smell withered away, I joined him and tried to laugh the trauma away.

Harry threw the hat over the balcony. I laid flat on the floor to try and catch my rugged, chest-burning breaths. I got to catch a glimpse of the moon too.

“Plead for mercy?” I ask.

“Year 5, remember?” He joined me on the floor.

My mind goes back to a 10 year old Harry and a group of 5 other girls wearing head wigs and role playing as the Supreme Court. It was a sick experiment our teacher did for English. We had to defend our essay thesis’s like they were going to get executed.

Mine got executed but Harry made a scene in front of the other girls to defend me. Then one of them got fed up and stood, screaming “plead for mercy! Plead!” Panically, I did what she said. Harry made light of it by repeating it every time he could, and since then it’s always made me laugh.

“I remember. I just haven’t heard that in a while.”

“We use it all the time…” he pauses, “at least we used to.” His laugh grows faint.

It’s always like this. We get partners and slowly fade from each other, give the attention we gave to each other to them. Never the less, none of them deserved it.

“I missed you, Harry.”

We saw each other nearly everyday, but he knows what I mean. It’s never the same as it was when we were kids.

“I missed you too, Y/n.”

I turn to my side and he already has his head turned to me. I think about every memory since we were fifteen: every crush I thought I had, every boyfriend I thought I loved… I think and I think. And I don’t think I ever truly felt for them how strongly I ever felt towards Harry.

Staring at him,— the wrinkles he’s grown with age, the features that enhanced over the years; his nose, his eyes, his hair, his cheeks, his mouth— I think.

I think I’m too scared to admit what I feel… because I’ve never thought so deeply about it. I’ve never allowed myself to.

I look back at his eyes and they shrink as he smiles.

“I can see the moon in your eyes.” He says.

I take in the way he said it and realize how much I love it when he speaks.

“Do you see how much I love you?” My drunk mind voices, I know it this time because I can hear it. I can hear the hint of eagerness and pathetic validation falling from the tip of my tongue.

He nods without hesitation.

“Do you see it in mine?” He says. I look into them and get sucked in. I want to kiss him, but I don’t. I want to hug him, but I don’t. I’m still; frozen.

I do see it, Harry.

“Harry-“ I say, and he scoots closer like he’s ready to listen. I’m scared he’s close enough to hear my heart now and how loudly it bangs against my chest; how fast it’s talking like it’ll never shut up.

It doesn’t shut up.

Unfortunately, it speaks.

“I’ll never love anyone like I love you, Harry.” I say. “It’s scary, but you’re the one person I don’t think I could ever stop loving, Harry. You’re the light of my life…” I hesitate, but my heart speaks again, “the love of my life.”

Then, my heart shuts up. Like the words were a release.

He smiles. He leans forward the tiniest bit and meets his forehead with mine.

“Can I scare you a little more?” He says. I don’t respond. “I think you’re mine too. I think you have been for a very long time, Y/n.”

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Those eyeeees 😍

Ooof-

Behind every exqusite thing that existed, there was something tragic.

Oscar Wilde, the picture of Dorian Gray

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