Frames That Used to Greet Me

Walking off of the plane felt so good that I couldn’t even begin to describe it. There just weren’t any words. It didn’t matter though, because I was home. For a whole month, I had nothing to do but see my family, see my old mates, and relax. Then when that month was up, it would all start again. Album number two, and then eventually more touring.

But I would worry about that later.

Paul guided those of us out of the airport who would be leaving in the cars there for us. We said our goodbye’s to Niall before one of the other security guards rushed him off to where he needed to go. He still had a flight to take back to Dublin. Then we said goodbye to Louis, along with Livia who had joined us on the last week of the tour. She and Lou were going strong, as expected, but now they were taking a week off for holiday in Rome. Or somewhere exotic like that, since they hadn’t really had a minute to just themselves recently. They would be gone for five days, meaning an empty flat all to myself. A rush was sent through my veins just thinking of that. Time alone wasn’t something I was used to, so it was greatly appreciated.

Liam, Zayn, and myself were herded out to the three cars waiting for us. Zayn, waving goodbye to us, got into one with his cousin who had met us at the airport. Liam climbed in next. “When’s Lou get home?” he asked, his hand on the door to shut it.

I shrugged. “It was originally a week, but I think they cut it short.”

He nodded. “Call when he does, we’ll come over. I’m going to look at places with Danielle soon I think.”

I assured him I would and then he shut the door and was off. I was last. I climbed into the van and waved to Paul. “Be safe,” Paul called before heading off in his own direction. I chuckled and shut the door then let the driver know we could go.

Home. For a whole month.

I smiled to myself just thinking about it. I couldn’t wait to be home. I couldn’t wait to go to my mum’s tomorrow and have her cook my favorite dinner. I couldn’t wait to see my sister. I couldn’t wait to sleep in and not have a care in the world for a whole month.

I smiled out the tinted window at dreary London. It was good to be home.

*** 

I paused in front of my door, smiling as I reached for my keys that I had shoved into the front pocket of my trousers. Once unlocked, I shoved the door open with my hip and, although struggling a bit, made it inside with minimal to no damage. I dropped all of my bags near the door and just stopped, taking a deep breath to smell... the smell of wine?

My eyes snapped opened and I looked around, only stopping when they reached the brunette standing in my kitchen. She was holding a glass of wine and appeared to be cooking. Or trying. Who knows?

“Gem?” I asked, walking further into my flat. “What are you doing here?”

She whipped around, her glass of wine sloshing a bit from the sudden-ness of her movements. “Christ Hazza! You scared me.”

I mumbled an apology before walking over to the counter and taking a seat at one of the bar stools. “What are you doing here Gemma?” I repeated.

She sighed, which was the sound she made when she had a long story to relay to me. I braced myself. “Bloody Cole has fleas! Or had them, rather. Stupid cat. So I had to get my flat bombed, and I couldn’t stay there for 48 hours. Mum said your place probably needed cleaned anyways, so she said I should just come here.”

I looked around. Nothing looked cleaner. It looked exactly the same. In fact, I lifted my arms from the counter and noticed the dust on my sleeves. I quirked an eyebrow and smirked at Gemma, who shrugged. “Well I may not have cleaned yet, but I was going to! I thought about it at least.”

“You’re one of a kind, Gem, y’know that?”

She nodded and then brought her attention back to whatever she was doing. “What are you cooking?” I asked, getting up and walking over to the fridge. It was nearing eleven at night and after the long day of traveling, I needed a beer.

I grabbed a bottle and unscrewed the cap before walking back over to the stove, inspecting the pot. “Is that... Gem, what the hell is that?”

She sighed and shut the pot off, falling back against the counter in defeat. “It was supposed to be oatmeal, but I think I fucked it up.”

I laughed and shook my head. I walked over towards the living room and threw over my shoulder, “You stay in my flat un-invited, you eat my food, and you almost burn it all down. Thanks Gem. You’re the best big sister a lad could have.”

She laughed as well and followed me into the living room, taking a seat on the couch next to me. “Sorry, Haz. I’m glad you’re home!”

I smiled and nodded. “Me too, Gemma. You have no idea.”

“How was tour though? Amazing? Insane? More than anything you’d ever wished or hoped for?”

“All of the above and then some. It’s bloody mental. I mean...” I trailed off, unable to find the words. I just shook my head instead.

“You love it,” she said. I looked at her, smiled, and nodded. She was my big sister. It didn’t matter if I didn’t have the words, because she knew.

“Well where’s your boyfriend? Shouldn’t he be hitting the headboard against the wall with his new lady?”

I laughed. Gemma was right on board with the Liv and Lou ship, just like the rest of us. “They went on holiday. Left right from the airport. They’ll be back in a week or something, so if you want to stay for a few days, be my guest.”

She got up and ruffled my hair, taking the last sip of her wine. “I might take you up on that, baby brother. But right now I need to sleep and Lou’s bed is calling my name.” She winked and waved over her shoulder. “See you in the morning, Haz.”

“Night Gem.”

*** 

The sound of my mobile chirping in my ear at what had to be an ungodly hour was what woke me up. I stirred, grabbing my phone and squinting at it, the brightness of the screen blinding against the harsh blackness. I checked the time. 2:17 AM. Then my eyes floated down to the middle of the screen, catching the name of the person who had texted me at such an ungodly hour.

Michaela.

I groaned, falling back against my pillow for a moment before my phone chirped again. I muttered a few curses before picking the phone back up and sliding my thumb across the screen to open her message. There were four of them. I was going to kill her.

Hey, Rockstar. You’re home now yeah?

Come on Haz. Up and at ‘em.

Hazza. I just bought new underwear. ;)

Fuck you. I’ll attach a picture if it’ll get your arse here faster.

“Dammit,” I muttered, falling back face first into my pillow. I waited a moment before my thumbs flew over the screen, typing a response.

Unlock the door. Be there in twenty.

Once more I fell into the pillow for a moment before I pulled myself out of bed. The things I do for this lass. It was two in the morning and I just got home from touring non-stop for two months and yet here I was, getting out of bed to go over to her flat. Mental. Absolutely mental.

I pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a white tee from my suitcase on the floor that was still waiting to be unpacked. I grabbed my beanie and slipped it on over my head before I quietly walked out of my room. Thankfully, Gemma would be sound asleep and I also knew she was a heavy sleeper. She wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon. In fact, maybe I would be lucky enough to get back in the morning before she even rose from the dead.

I grabbed my phone and pocketed my wallet before slipping out the front door with my keys in hand.

The one positive of my late night rendezvouses with Michaela were I didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing me. When it was 2:30 in the morning on a Wednesday, there were all that many people out and about wondering what Harry Styles was doing. But honestly, even if there were I doubt that would have stopped me.

I was pulling up in front of her building in record timing. It only took me twelve minutes as opposed to the usual fifteen or twenty. When I got out, I smiled at the doorman and nodded, as I always did. “Evening, Mr. Styles,” he greeted me. Walter, I thought his name was. There were several of them who knew who I was, though, so I could never really remember.

Michaela wasn’t rich, not by a long shot, and she worked hard for the money she earned. She went to school for fashion design, already had several important internships, and was trying to make her way into “the fashion world” as she always called it. Michaela wasn’t rich, but her parents certainly were. They lived in a giant house near Bournemouth, or so I was told. I had never seen it. The furthest I got was Michaela’s flat, which made her seem incredibly well off, and I guess she was. But it was all thanks to her parents paying for her rent every month. She never complained. And as long as she worked hard and didn’t get into too much trouble, neither did they.

I walked through the lobby and went right to the lift, waiting a moment before the doors slid open so I could walk in. I hit the button for the eighth floor and watched as the doors slid shut once again before whisking me upwards.

Before I knew it, I was on her floor and walking towards the end of the hall, where her flat was located. Number 810, as the gold numbers on her door read. I didn’t bother knocking. I knew it would open, so I latched my hand around the doorknob and pushed it open effortlessly.

I stepped inside, slipping my dirty white Converse off of my feet in the entryway, where piles of Michaela’s own shoes lay strewn about. “Mickey?” I called. I didn’t want to enter her flat anymore than I already was before she made herself known.

“Twenty-six minutes,” I heard her call out before her head popped out of her bedroom door way to my right. “I’m impressed. Usually you’re way off.”

I grinned, walking over to her as I checked out what she was wearing. A pair of sleep shorts and a tank top. Definitely not “new underwear.” I smirked. “Nice outfit, Mickey. You’re also a bloody liar.”

She laughed and shrugged. “You came, didn’t you?”

“Don’t I always?”

She didn’t answer. I was close enough to smell her now, smell her flowery shampoo and her fruity perfume that, when combined, was enough to drive me mad. She reached out first, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me close. I put my hands on her hips, pulling her into me as well. Our faces were merely millimeters apart now.

I bent my head, my lips just barely brushing over hers. “Did you miss me?” I asked, just like I did every time.

She smiled. “You know I don’t miss you, Harry. That’s not how it works.”

I grinned. I was okay with her answer, because I knew it didn’t matter. She had asked and I was there and that was all either of us cared about. My lips caught hers then while my hands guided her hips so she was walking backwards. Then she was caught in between my body and the wall, and I wasn’t letting her go any time soon.

Her fingers slipped over my head, sliding the beanie right off of my hair and letting it drop to the ground. My hands rose further, sliding under her tank top and leaving goosebumps in their wake. A shiver--of anticipation? excitement?--rose up her spine, pushing her body further into mine.

I pulled away, attaching my lips to the delicate spot right below her left earlobe that could just about end her if I played my cards right. I nipped at the skin and she let out a breathy sigh. “Miss me Mickey?” I asked once again, my voice a whisper against her soft skin.

“Mmm, less talking,” she whispered just as quietly, “and more kissing.”