Frames That Used to Greet Me

“Where are you going again?” I ask for the millionth time as I watch Liv struggle with her bags. She looks like she’s packed for a month long holiday instead of a mere weekend trip.

I can’t help but smirk as she continues to struggle before giving up and dropping her things in a huff. “Fucking bags!” she says before stomping towards the kitchen, presumably to get coffee.

Louis walks out of his room with his duffle over his shoulder next, so I ask him. “Home, Haz,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re going to see my mum for the weekend. She said she misses me.”

Liv comes back out with a travel mug in her hands, her temper-tantrum from minutes ago fading fast. “I think I packed too much,” she says, her tone sheepish as she glances at her mound of things.

I watch as Lou laughs, pulls her close, and plants a quick kiss on her forehead. “Don’t you always?” He grins at her, and suddenly her bad mood fades completely.

She turns to me, a smile on her lips. “What about you Haz? What are you gonna do this weekend?”

I shrug. I didn’t have any plans really. Other than my coffee date with Cora next week, my schedule was pretty free. Thinking of Cora made me smirk though, which Liv promptly picked up on. She groaned. “You better not be seeing the coffee shop twat, Harry. We’ve talked about this,” she warned.

I rolled my eyes. “Her name’s Cora, Liv. Why don’t you try calling her by her actual name for once? And I’m not seeing her.” I left out until next week. Liv didn’t need to know my entire life plan, especially the parts that involved Cora.

She narrowed her eyes at me but left it alone. “Fine. We should go,” she said to Lou, who nodded.

“Behave,” he warned me. “Don’t burn the flat down, don’t break any hearts...” he trailed off in thought, and then grimaced as he apparently remembered something. “And for the love of god, keep any and all sex-capades confined to your bedroom, yeah mate?”

I couldn’t help laughing as he and Liv walked out the door.

And then there was one.

I enjoyed the silence for all of five minutes before I started contemplating who I should call.

I knew Nialler would be up for a night of going out for pints, but I didn’t really feel like going out. I could have attempted calling Cora, because she had given me her number after our coffee date yesterday, but I didn’t want to push that. Then my mind drifted to Mickey...

Mickey.

I grinned as I punched her number into my phone. I hadn’t talked to her much recently because the both of us had been busy I suppose, but now it was the weekend and I knew she had no excuse. I listened to the phone ring once, twice, three times before she finally answered.

“What do you want Styles?” she sighed into the phone.

I chuckled. “Well, nice to hear from you too, love.”

I could hear the smile in her voice. “Sorry. I love you, come over and we’ll have hot sex in my shower. Better?”

I smirked. “Is that even a question? I was thinking you come over here, though.”

“I’m exhausted, Harry. It’s been a ridiculously busy few weeks at work and I feel like collapsing.”

“Then come over and I’ll really give you a reason to collapse.”

She was silent. I knew she was considering it, because she always considered it. This was how we worked. If one called, the other would come running, no problem. It’s just the way we were.

“Can we order chinese food?” she asked finally, and I laughed. She’d be over in a half hour, tops.

***

“Harry Styles, you’re one charming bastard. You know that?”

Her voice echoed throughout the flat. I got off the couch and stood, opening my arms and shrugging my shoulders. “What can I say? You love me.”

She rolled her eyes and stomped over to me. She thrust the bag of Chinese take-out into my arms and brushed by me, shedding clothes as she went. I stepped over her shoes, her jacket, and her purse before reaching her in the living room where she was sprawled out on the couch.

I sat down near her legs, pulling out take-out container after take-out container and setting them on the coffee table. I pushed over a fork I had grabbed before she got there, grinned, and said, “Dig in.”

While Mickey went to town on the chicken lo-mein, I got up and grabbed a few beers from the fridge. “Beer?” I asked when I got back and she nodded enthusiastically.

We ate in silence at first, the only sound coming from the telly, but then Michaela collapsed backwards, downing the rest of her beer before speaking. “As much as the prospect of sex really got me over here, I seriously am exhausted.”

I laughed. “Long week?”

“You have no idea,” she muttered, blowing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Sometimes I love my job, yeah? It’s perfect, and it’s exactly what I want to be doing, or at least in theory it should be.”

“It’s not?” I asked around a mouthful of egg roll.

“No! It’s bloody not!” she exclaimed, making me jump slightly. “It’s bloody bullshit is what it is. I’m a glorified intern, Harry! Do you have any idea how many bloody coffee runs I’ve gone on since I started?”

I started to shake my head, but quickly realized this was more a venting session for Mick than anything, so I stayed quiet and let her continue.

“I was a fucking fashion major at uni, Harry! I graduated, top of my bloody class might I add, and I even interned for major fashion designers. Yet they still treat me like proper shit!”

I couldn’t help but laugh a little. Not because of the situation but because she was so worked up. “So quit,” I suggested, but she just scoffed.

“We aren’t all international pop stars, Haz. I’ve still got bills to pay.” She sighed before falling back and crossing her arms tightly in front of her chest. “Besides, I’m not the first twenty-something that hates their job. I’ll live.”

I shrugged. Couldn’t really argue with that. Apparently that wasn’t enough for Mickey though.

“Don’t you get it?” she exclaimed. “I shouldn’t have to just ‘live with it’,” she said, putting air-quotes around the last phrase. “I should bloody love my job! I should wake up every morning and say, ‘Wow, my life’s fucking fantastic!’ Do you know what I say instead, Harry? Do you?”

I shook my head. I knew better than to answer.

“I fucking hate my job. I wonder if the ‘my grandmother died’ excuse can work again.”

I frowned. “So why don’t you quit? I mean, find another job, yeah? There’s bound to be a million offers out there for a bright, talented lass like yourself.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “It’s not that easy. Or maybe it is, I don’t know.”

She stopped talking then, and I could tell the subject was dropped. She didn’t want to talk about her shitty job, or the terrible week she had. She wanted to forget about it.

I had just the way.

I set my food on the coffee table and scooted closer to her. She had her eyes closed, so she didn’t know what I was doing until I was doing it. My lips ghosted over the exposed skin on her neck before making their way to her earlobe, where I gently nipped before letting out a breath and speaking low into her ear. “Forget about it, love. You came over for a reason, yeah?”

She squirmed underneath me before pushing me away. “No, I came over for chinese food and a spare ear to vent to. I’ve done both, so...” she trailed off and started to get up. I moved aside, a smirk on my lips. I knew she wouldn’t leave. She hadn’t come all the way over just to eat and vent.

She stopped as soon as she was standing. She let out a defeated breath before falling back on the couch. “Fuck it,” she muttered, leaning into me with one swift motion before our lips crashed together.

I smirked, and I guess she could tell because she pulled back briefly. I didn’t stop though, but let my lips go back to whatever skin was exposed. Her neck, her collarbone, her ears, trailing along her jaw. “Don’t be such a cocky prick,” she muttered, but then I found the spot that always drove her crazy and she let out a small moan. “Oh fuck you.” She stood up, her eyes determined, before she brushed by me. I waited a moment, but then she stopped in the hall and turned back to face me. “Well are you coming or not?”

My laughter echoed out as I quickly followed her to my bedroom.