My Little Bird

Eleanor was waiting on the sofa when she returned, a cup of tea in one hand and her cell phone in the other. She smiled and put her phone away when Asher walked in.

"Have a good trip?"

"It was great. Louis's sisters are the best. How was your day?"

"Pretty good. Hung out with the boys, went walking around for awhile, then stopped for dinner on my way home."

"You had dinner alone?" Eleanor asked with a frown.

"Well, not technically. The boys had stuff they had to do and I didn't want to intrude so I went to Finch's to eat by myself. Since they were completely empty, the cute waiter sat down and had dinner with me."

A grin spread across the older girl's face and her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh really now?"

Asher rolled her eyes and got up quickly. "Alright, going to bed now because I don't want to talk about this," she sang before hurrying up the stairs to her room. She changed into some jeans and a tee shirt and decided to write an email to her mother while she waited for Eleanor to go to bed.

After emails to her mother and her sister Iris had been written, she decided to read some more of a book she'd been working on. It wasn't long before midnight when she heard the door of Eleanor's bedroom close. She jumped up and crept out into the hallway, seeing that all the lights had been turned off which meant that she had turned in for the night.

Asher went back into her bedroom to slip on some boots and grab a hoodie to pull on over her thin tee shirt. She crept silently down the stairs and through the living room, stepping out the front door as carefully as possible. It had started pouring rain in the two hours that she'd been inside and she grumbled to herself as she set out for Harry's flat.

She felt incredibly stupid when she arrived to find all the lights off, and she remembered that they had all planned to go out. It was already half past midnight and she wasn't sure how much longer they would be. The rain had already soaked her to the skin so she figured it didn't matter anymore, and she took a seat on his front stoop to wait.

A black SUV finally pulled up outside his flat at fifteen til two and Harry climbed out of the back seat, jogging up to his front door. He hadn't noticed the figure on his stoop until he got closer and saw her sitting there, her eyes closed and her entire body completely drenched as she leaned her back against the door, letting the rain drip onto her face. Harry approached the girl, his eyes slightly widened and his mouth open in surprise. "Ash? What're you doin'? It's pouring out here!"

"No shit," she grumbled, her eyes popping open at the sound of his voice. She felt her feet squish inside her boots as she stood up. "But I had to talk to you."

"Come on, let's get you inside and get you some dry clothes," he replied, completely ignoring her statement as he quickly unlocked the door and pulled her into the house. He shut the door behind her and she was thankful for the heat that immediately surrounded her shivering body. He walked down the hallway away from her while she just stood there, water dripping from every part of her.

Harry returned a moment later with a fluffy white towel in his hands and some clothes tucked under his arm. He dropped the clothes onto the back of the sofa and wrapped the towel around her shoulders, pulling it together at the base of her throat. "It's two a.m. and you're out walkin' the streets of London alone in the pouring rain? Are you tryin' to get yourself killed?"

"I told you, I needed to talk to you."

"You should get changed," he said, dropping his hands and turning away from her. "You're going to catch cold."

"Would you stop worrying about my clothes for a minute and listen to me?" she sighed exasperated as she stared at the side of his face. He could practically feel her determination and he finally nodded, giving up trying to ignore what he knew was coming. "What's going on?"

"I don't know what you mean," he found himself saying as he turned his head away from her. Of course he knew what she was talking about; he'd made things way too obvious when he decided he needed to keep his distance.

"Don't bullshit me, Harry." Her tone came out bitter and she bit her lip as soon as she'd spoken, hoping that she didn't sound too angry. Honestly, she wasn't angry at all; she was only a bit hurt. "You've been avoiding me," she stated more softly.

"I haven't," he immediately retorted, though it was only a half-hearted attempt. He knew there was no use in even trying to defend himself.

"The boys and I have been hanging out at Liam's every day this week and you haven't come because you're supposed to be in Cheshire. Then today I find out that you probably didn't even go home at all and you've been waiting until I leave before you go over there? I mean, what the fuck is that about?"

"They told you that?" he mumbled, unable to meet her eyes.

"No. But they gossiped like teenage girls when I got up to go to the bathroom."

Harry had no answer for her; there was no way he could refute her accusations now that he knew that she knew he and all the other boys had lied about his trip to Holmes Chapel.

When he didn't respond to her, Asher sighed and removed the towel from her shoulders then pulled off the dripping wet sweatshirt from her body and grabbed the clothes Harry had brought, turning away from him to walk down the hallway. She'd never been to his flat before but she figured it was relatively the same design as the other boys' since they were all in the same complex.

The bathroom was exactly where she thought it'd be. She went inside, closing the door behind her, and pulled off her wet clothes before sliding into Harry's clean, dry ones. The dark gray tee shirt he'd given her was two sizes too big, the sleeves reaching past her elbows and the hem halfway to her knees, but then again he was a tall boy. She used the towel to wring out as much water as she could from her hair before pulling on the gray sweatpants, which were about a mile too long for her.

She grabbed fistfuls of the fabric and pulled them up as she walked back into the living room, where he was sitting on the sofa, completely spaced out in thought. She slid down onto the sofa right next to him, their arms touching as she turned her head and leaned in closer to him. "Why?" she asked, half in a whisper.

Harry let his head fall back against the back of the sofa and he blinked twice before finally sighing. "It was stupid," he said, running his palm over the mess of curls atop his head.

"Are you gonna actually give me a reason?"

"I'd rather not," he mumbled, his cheeks turning a nice shade of pink. "If I wanted to pretend this never happened, would that be too much to ask?"

Asher stared at him for a long moment, and he kept his eyes on the painting hanging on the opposite wall. Finally, she shook her head. "No."

His head shifted slightly to the right and his bright green eyes found her blue ones. "Really?" He watched the worried look dissipate from her features and a smile slowly appear in its place.

She slid forward in her seat and angled her body back toward him, propping herself up with one hand on the back of the sofa. "Come here," she said. He quirked an eyebrow at her questioningly but sat up, letting her wrap her arms around his neck in a hug. He tensed at first, but after only a second or two, he relaxed, letting his arms slide around to her back as he inhaled the faint scent of cherry blossom shampoo that still lingered on her damp hair.

She pulled away with a smile and stood up from the sofa. "Where's your dryer?" she asked, picking up the bottom of the sweatpants she was wearing so that she could walk properly.

"I'll show you," he replied, rising from the sofa as well and heading down the hallway with her following. She retrieved her wet clothes from the bathroom and threw them into the dryer before rejoining Harry in his living room. He was slouched down on the sofa, feet propped up on his coffee table, as he scrolled through the internet articles of the day, spotting a few on Asher. Someone had taken pictures of her as she walked around Trafalgar Square by herself. The boys' plan of avoiding public outings with her obviously didn't matter because paparazzi were following her anyway, probably hoping that she'd be on her way to meet them or something.

He quickly put his phone away when she returned, flopping down next to him. "Thanks for lending me some clothes. Also, you're kind of a giant."

"No problem," he laughed.

"This shirt is actually really comfortable. I might have to keep it," she grinned innocently, having already planned to take it whether he gave her permission or not.

"Take it. It looks better on you anyway."

She willed herself not to blush at his comment and instead changed the subject. "You look tired."

"I am tired."

"You should go to bed."

"So should you."

She shook her head. "I would if I hadn't trekked my ass all the way over here in the middle of the night. Sorry to inform you, but I'm crashing on your couch and you don't really get a say in the matter."

He chuckled, ruffling his messy curls. "Come on. The bed's big enough; we can share."

Asher quirked an eyebrow at him but he had already gotten up and turned off the lamp, heading down the hallway. She jumped up to follow him and when they both reached his bedroom, she turned down the dark blue comforter and kicked off the oversize sweatpants she was wearing then hopped into the bed, pulling the covers back up over her bare legs.

She sat up with her back against the headboard as he went over to his closet and pulled out a pair of athletic shorts, quickly changing into them from his skinny jeans. Instead of undoing the buttons on his flannel shirt, he simply pulled it over his head and dropped it onto the floor next to his discarded jeans. He turned to walk back to the bed when Asher just started laughing. "What the fuck is that?"

He looked at her confused. "What?"

"You have a butterfly tattoo!"

Harry shook his head as he climbed into the empty side of the bed, leaning back next to her. "Alright now, be nice or I'll start talking about your tattoos."

"Go right ahead. None of my tattoos are stupid."

His mouth dropped open in fake surprise and he put on his best hurt look. "I can't believe you just called my tattoos stupid."

"They're not all stupid," she offered sympathetically. "But you do have like ninety-seven of them."

He rolled his eyes at her hyperbole and grabbed her left arm, stretching it straight out to get a better look at the ink on the inside of her forearm, just below her elbow. "Tell me about this one," he demanded, gently tapping her skin with his index finger.

It was a compass about five inches in diameter with a detailed eight point compass rose inside. It was done completely in black and shades of gray and it was the most recent of her three tattoos, having been done just over two months ago.

"Nothing to tell. I don't have a reason behind it; I just liked the design."

"And you said my tattoo was stupid," he muttered with a smirk.

"Um, yeah. You're a guy and you have a butterfly on your stomach."

Harry ignored her again and took hold of her right arm, twisting it uncomfortably so that he could read the words inked into her skin. "What about this one?" The phrase here comes the sun was written in a classic cursive font and reached from her wrist to her elbow.

Asher shrugged, trying to ignore the electricity she felt as his fingertips ran along the black words and brushed the inside of her wrist. "Self explanatory. The Beatles are my favorite band and that's my favorite song."

He let go of her arm and she quickly retracted it as he chuckled to himself. "Have you ever even listened to anything besides The Beatles?"

"I mean, I've heard things playing in stores when I go shopping or when I'm in a restaurant or something, but as far as actually listening and knowing who the artists are, no."

"You're like a martian," he replied, shaking his head. "So is that it? Just those two?"

"Oh, no I have this one too." She pushed the comforter off her bare legs to reveal a series of small black stars laid out in a very odd pattern across her right thigh.

"What the hell is that? You have a bunch of random dots on your leg and my butterfly is stupid?"

Asher rolled her eyes. "They're not dots, they're stars. And it's not random. If you connect them, they form the Cygnus constellation, which is actually my favorite of the constellations."

"The fact that you have a favorite constellation speaks volumes, Ash," he said, giving her a grin.

"Don't get cute with me, boy," she warned, pointing a finger at him.

"So what the fuck is the Cygnus constellation? Don't believe I learned that one in school."

"Get me a pen and I'll show you."

He got up from his bed and walked out of the room, returning about a minute later with a red pen. "This is the only one I could find," he told her as he flopped down on his stomach, showing her the pen. She reached for it, but he quickly snatched his hand away. "No I want to do it."

"You don't even know what it's supposed to look like."

"So tell me." She sighed heavily and used her finger to trace the first line while he uncapped the pen using his teeth and spit out the lid on the bed next to him. She held her breath as he carefully drew the first line on her thigh, resting his other hand on her bare knee. She traced each line with her fingertip before pausing to watch him draw it with the red pen. Once the last line had been drawn, he pulled back to get a better look at what he could now see was somewhat like a cross. "I guess that is pretty cool," he finally agreed.

She shook her head, a small smirk on her face. "Gee, thanks."

"No, I mean it." He patted her thigh and sat up again, this time facing her. "Does this one have any meaning or is it just your favorite constellation?"

"No, it does have meaning actually. But it's a long sob story so you probably don't want to hear it."

Harry just blinked once before nodding. "Go on."

Honestly, Asher really didn't want to get into it. The truth was that it was still a painful topic even though it had happened over a year ago. She bit her lip nervously and Harry seemd to pick up on the fact that she really hated the subject. "You don't have to tell me. It's okay."

"No, it's just-.....Sometimes it's still hard to think about."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine really." She ran her hand through her finally dry wavy hair and let out a sigh. "I had these two friends back when I was in high school. We were kind of like outcasts so we spent most of our time together. They were cousins and we were all in the same class even though Caleb was a year older than Dane and me-- he'd flunked seventh grade because he ditched so much.

Anyway, to cut to the chase, we decided to go on Caleb's eighteenth birthday to get tattoos, even though Dane and I were only seventeen. They knew the guy so he let us get them without parental consent. My mom woulda killed me if she knew. But we basically decided we wanted something that connected us and then the idea just came up. Caleb got this giant ass sun right on his bicep, Dane got a big black outline of a crescent moon on his chest, and I got the constellation. Sun, moon, and stars."

"Well that's not sad," Harry stated once she'd stopped to take a breath.

"There's more," she told him, smiling sadly. "The three of us were supposed to go to Daytona Beach for spring break, but my mom decided at the last minute that she didn't want me to be with two teenage boys all week without adult supervision so she wouldn't let me go.

To make a long story short, they had an amazing spring break and I was totally jealous until I got a phone call that Saturday morning. They'd been in an accident on their way home-- something about a drunk driver. The worst part is they were coming home early because they felt guilty about me sitting at home. If it weren't for me, they would've stayed the extra night and been fine."

There was complete silence before Harry finally swallowed hard and spoke, his voice shaky. "I think they call that survivor's guilt."

She glanced over at him but she couldn't look him in the eye, instead focusing in on the sparrows inked into his chest. "Whatever it is, it sucks." She sniffed and ran her hands over her watery eyes. "I'm tired." Harry took the hint that she was done talking and he nodded his head as he reached over to turn off the lamp on the nightstand. "Night, Harry."

"Goodnight, Ash."