Perfect Teeth

Ezra Callil @ezracallil
ladies, don’t just accept any boy who wants to be ur vacuum cleaner - he needs to be a Dyson

Ezra Callil @ezracallil
Shopping 4 new foundation takes the cake as most stressful experience ever

Ezra Callil @ezracallil
Bc if I do it at the drugstore, I gotta guess w/ colors and texture and stuff & it’s all MYSTERY and 1 big guessing game

Ezra Callil @ezracallil
But if I go high end I gotta deal w/ ppl TOUCHING MY FACE

Ezra Callil @ezracallil
In conclusion I’ve decided no to makeup yes to FACE PAINT that’s it that’s all I’m ever gonna wear forever and ever tmrw I will b purple

Ezra Callil @ezracallil
Beansthepug is the best instagram of anything ever I just made a squeak noise PUG IN AN UGG



“Hi.” Harry was mad. I could sense it in his voice when he called, his syllables terse. The word was not drawn out, no usual dip as he made it polysyllabic. Just one sound – hi. It sounded harsh. Angry Harry was a foreign concept, a kind of distant version of the boy that I knew. Irritated and slightly exasperated Harry were slightly familiar ideas, but never angry.

“What’s going on?” I asked, confused as to why he sounded so upset.

It was early Thursday morning for me, which meant really early Thursday morning for Harry. He texted me when he landed yesterday and we exchanged a few jokes here or there, but he was busy with all things Saturday Night Live and I was trying to get back into the schoolwork and revision groove. (Trying really meant that I wrote out everything I had left to do and then fell into bed Wednesday night without doing any of it.)

“You didn’t tell me they recorded you and posted it on the Internet.” He was biting out his words, the usual molasses-tongue quick and urgent. With anger.

He was speaking at me with anger.

I sat up straighter in my bed, rubbing my eyes with the tips of my fingers. It wasn’t even fully light out yet.

“It’s not that—“ I started, the same excuse that I’d been using since he brought it up a few days ago on the tip of my tongue.

“Don’t.” He cut me off. “Don’t say it’s not a big deal when it is. They cornered you in an airport, acted like fucking tossers, and then put it on the Internet. How is that not a big deal? How are you okay with that?”

“I’m not okay with it, like at all.” I was shaking my head but he couldn’t see me and already I was feeling the distance between us. I didn’t want to have a conversation like this over the phone, where I couldn’t see him. He was all body language. “But it happened and I can’t change it.”

“You could’ve told me.” He retorted.

“So you could’ve done what, Harry?” I was trying not to sound exasperated with him, but the irritation from the earlier conversation was already flaring up again. There was nothing he could change.

“I don’t know – something!” His voice was still low, but rising quickly in volume. “You could’ve at least told me so I didn’t have to find out from Zayn asking if you were okay. Zayn knew before I did. Zayn never knows anything!”

“I didn’t really want to relive the experience by bringing it up again. And I brought it up in the car yesterday, it’s just not a big deal.” I knew it was more me not wanting t bring it up again too – I was shaken by the experience, but I was also scared that it would spook Harry. We hadn’t talked about the fans in depth, hadn’t talked about what to do if things got bad.

“You just –“ He paused, word catching in his throat. “Fuck, you look so freaked out.”

Suddenly his anger was melting to worry, voice deflating, and I felt my defensive shoulders drop. It was too early for this and he was too far away. It wasn’t the kind of conversation I wanted to have after just waking up. “They just caught me off guard.”

“You need to tell me shit like this.” Harry demanded. “I need to know.”

“You want to know every time someone’s mean to me?” I laughed, but it was more bitter than joyful or amused. “I’m on the internet. We would need weeks.”

“I need to know when someone corners you in an airport and harasses you.”

“So you can do what, exactly?”

“I don’t know – maybe you need security detail. I just – fuck, you should’ve told me! The entire situation shouldn’t have happened at all and I didn’t even know about it!” He was yelling – or yelling for Harry – meaning that his voice was deep and loud and booming over the phone. He should’ve been asleep or out or something, not standing somewhere in New York City and yelling at me for not trying to freak him out over a fan incident.

“Please don’t yell at me.”

“I just – fuck.” He let out a shaky breath and I imagined him running his hands down his face or through his hair. “This is why we can’t – it just fucking sucks – and I didn’t even—“

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to tell me when stuff like that happens.” He repeated, voice firm. “I don’t like being kept in the dark.”

“I told you it happened.” I reminded, because I had. Maybe I omitted a few details, but I had.

“You just said that they were rude! You didn’t tell me that they asked you personal shit and acted awful!”

“They were rude.” I swallowed, feeling my anger building up as he continued to bark over the phone. I could also feel the automatic response to being yelled at building behind my eyes. I wanted to steel myself against him. “They were rude and they recorded me and it’s now apparently a viral thing on the internet – fuck, dude, I know.” I let out a shudder. “But I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d get upset and start backtracking and I don’t want you to suddenly decide to not want to date me because people suck, okay? And now I’m going to hang up, because you’re obviously pissed off and nothing is going to stop that, so call me when you feel like taking your anger out on someone else.”

I took the phone away from my ear and stabbed the ‘end call’ button before I could hear anything else through the receiver, closing my eyes in exasperation as I tossed the device away from me and collapsed back on my bed. I shoved my face into one of my pillows and let out a loud, angry sigh.

It wasn’t even seven in the morning yet and I didn’t have to be up. My plan for the day had been to lounge around in bed, maybe clean my flat a little, and then do some revising and some channel work. It sounded like a perfectly calm Thursday to me, but now I was anxious.

Arguing with Harry made me feel off, my heart beating faster in my chest. We quibbled and we bickered and we rolled our eyes at each other when one of us couldn’t figure out where to get take out from or which movie to watch, but we didn’t fight. I didn’t like confrontation a whole lot and Harry was very chill – we were both usually too zen to fight, and yet I could practically feel the tension rolling off Harry from across the Atlantic.

One arm reached out, searching for my phone, and I brought it back to my face when I found it. Pulling up my contacts, I stared at his name for only a second – a second too long, probably – before scrolling down.



ZZ looked about ready to cut me. I needed to get out of my apartment, get out of the weird headspace that this morning had put me in – so I texted her about twenty times until she woke up and agreed to get breakfast with me. I needed company and maybe someone to talk to and my girl talk options were ZZ, Evie, or Nick.

Nick had his show and we had covered the Harry re: fame talk a few days ago. There was no way Evie would wake up before noon and I was a little wary about discussing my relationship with her anyway, because she knew all of Harry’s friends. ZZ was my best option, even if I’d been shit at communicating with her over the past week and I wasn’t even technically sure if she knew that Harry and I were together.

“You can’t hate me, I’m buying you a breakfast burrito,” I reminded her as I pulled out a chair and sat across from her at one of the wooden tables in the back of The Breakfast Club closest to her house.

“I can still be annoyed with you.” She disputed instantly, shaking some of her newly dyed pastel blue hair out of her face. “I’ve texted you, I’ve DM’ed you on Twitter – I had to take to googling you to figure out what was going on and even then I’m not sure. The comments on the video with One Direction have been going crazy.”

“What kind of crazy? Good crazy? Bad crazy?”

“There are more views on that video then every other video combined and the subscribers are climbing. Damien’s thrilled. Alfie’s pissed. The comments are mostly just things about you and Harry.”

I let out a sigh, leaning back in my chair and scanning the menu. “Of course Alfie’s pissed.”

ZZ ignored that. “What is going on with you and Harry? Tumblr tells me he was at your house?”

“Are you seriously searching Tumblr for answers about us? You know you could just call me.”

“I texted you!”

I grimaced, looking down at the table. She had. I was really bad at texting people back, especially between all of the travel and excitement of the last week. “I’m really shit about texting people back. You know this.”

“I do.” She agreed. “Which is why I went to the Internet. And now I have no idea what’s going on.”

“We’re – we’re like, together?” It sounded like a question because I wasn’t completely sure how to broach the topic. “As in there’s an ‘us’.”

“Like – relationship together - or like, dating together?” She tried to clarify.

“Is there a difference?”

“Relationship together means exclusivity – serious stuff.” She explained, one hand waving around. “Dating is casual. Like you’re feeling it out.”

“I mean he’s my boyfriend?” I shrugged out an answer. “So whatever that means.”

ZZ’s jaw dropped, eyes widening and eyebrows disappearing almost into her hairline. “Oh my god.”

“What?” I looked up at her.

“Oh my – shit. You’re – damn. When’s the last time Harry had a relationship? Jesus – wow.”

“Why do you keep saying it like that?” I asked her, brow furrowed at her reaction. I figured it might be a bit of a shock, but not super surprising. We did spent a lot of time together and she knew that we were more than friendly.

“I’m just – get it, girl.” She let out a low whistle of approval. “When did this happen? How did it happen?”

The story wasn’t exactly exciting – I was almost a little embarrassed rehashing the tale of my post-coital blurt out, but ZZ found it amusing and endearing. I explained it to her between ordering and waiting for our food, still continuing on as she ate. Her eyes filled with sympathy when I talked about the imminent feeling of rejection, fists clenching at our talking around the subject, and then her face broke into a beam at the actual relationship part.

“And then you guys had sex.” She concluded, nodding and beaming at me.

We didn’t not have sex, so I kind of just sent her my most bashful smile and took another bite of my breakfast burrito. ZZ was almost done with her own, but I was so busy gesticulating and animating the tale that I hadn’t eaten much.

“So you guys are good then? Solid?”

I tried to chew quickly, covering my mouth with my hand as I made an unimpressed face, shoulders dropping. “If you would’ve asked me that yesterday, I probably would’ve said yes. Today – I don’t know.”

Her face crinkled in confusion, lip pouting out. “What’s going on?”

“He’s mad at me.”

“Why?”

“I’m surprised you haven’t seen it actually –“ I dabbed the edge of my mouth with a paper napkin. “—but there was like a thing that happened with some fans at the airport and they filmed me. The video’s gone viral. Harry’s not happy.”

“No, I saw that.” She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “And he’s mad at you? That’s stupid.”

“He’s mad at me for not telling him, I guess.”

“So what he’s really doing is being mad at you instead of being mad at the fans?” Her fingers drummed against the table as he put that thought out there.

“Maybe? He’s just – he called this morning and he was pissed.” I tried to explain, wincing at the recollection of our harried phone call. “I’ve never heard him pissed before.”

“He’s probably just worried.” She was trying to reassure me, walking the thin line between comforting me and also calling Harry out on his bullshit.

“Probably.” I agreed with that. “I still don’t like being yelled at.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“Duh.” I shot her a look, as if the answer should’ve been obvious. “It wasn’t even seven and I was grumpy. I hung up on him.”

“And he hasn’t called to apologize yet?”

“Nope.” I checked my phone once more, just to be sure. Nothing.

“Besides his little freak out, you guys are good? Dating him – that’s gotta be hard.”

“It’s been the easiest thing ever so far when it’s just him. It’s the other stuff, but I’ve been ignoring it lately.”

“You can’t let them ruin it.” ZZ seemed adamant about this, shaking her head as she looked at me, wide-eyed and serious. “You can’t let the fans ruin it. It happens to people, but you can’t let it.”

“It’s hard.” I told her, checking my phone once again. The sound was on and I didn’t know what I was expecting.

“I know.” She said sympathetically. “But if you want it to work, you can’t let them ruin it.”

“Can we talk about something else now?” I practically pleaded with her. “I need to just get my head somewhere else right now.”

“Sure.” She transitioned easily. “Tell me about your parents.”



Harry called once in the late afternoon, but I didn’t answer. I stared at the phone as it rang, watching it vibrate on the table as his name and the stupid picture of him in the Hanson wig flashed across the screen.

All I could think about was how angry he sounded this morning - and the YouTube comments, which I had checked after breakfast with ZZ. It was the most popular video on the Tongue and Cheek TV channel by far and the comments were astounding. Most of them were questions, but some of them were just nasty.

The first time I checked the comments on the video, months ago, it had been primarily people shipping us – going on and on about the sexual chemistry and how great it would be if Harry dated a ‘normal’ girl and how this was going to be awesome.

Now it was speculation and primarily distaste, comment after comment proclaiming how awkward we looked when talking with each other, how Harry’s smile was clearly forced and faked.

It made me feel slightly sick to think about, even after I exited out of the browser and shoved my laptop away from me.

The second time Harry called, I pressed the ‘accept’ button.

“Hello?” I answered warily, already preparing myself for something unpleasant.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized immediately, voice low and gravelly. There were muffled voices behind him, but after a moment I heard a door close and the sound in the background ceased. “I’m really fucking sorry.”

I swallowed. “Okay.”

“I shouldn’t have blamed you. I owe you ten cronuts and a million daily dick jokes.” He continued, words so hushed he was practically whispering. “It’s not your fault.”

“You’re right.” I hummed in agreement. “It’s not.”

“Forgive me for being a prat?” He asked, sounding hopeful, and a part of me wanted to, but another part of me still remembered the sting of his anger and the way my entire body seized up at the conversation.

“You can’t do that to me.” I insisted. He wasn’t getting off that easy. “It’s unfair.”

“I know.” I could practically feel him rubbing his fingers across his lips as he struggled for words. “I freaked out.”

I got that – I knew that. Hell, he even sounded freaked out now, but I was freaked out too and I wasn’t yelling at him because it happened.

“If you’re angry, be angry, but don’t take it out on me. I don’t deserve to be treated that way.”

“Fuck, I know.” He cursed, exhaling deeply. “You’re right. You’re so right.”

“Okay.”

We both paused. I swallowed back the forgiveness that was already creeping up my throat and waited for him to speak. When he did, he sounded nervous. “I – I’ve been planning something, but now I’m afraid I’ve mucked it all up.”

“Planning what?”

“SNL is this Saturday.” He continued vaguely.

“I know.” I replied. “I’ve already bookmarked the livestream link.”

There was a pause, before he said, “Do you want to come watch it?”

I blinked rapidly in surprise, trying to figure out if he was actually asking what I thought he was. “Come watch it where?”

“In New York.”

I inhaled sharply, the excitement already building in my head at the insinuation. It was silly, I wasn’t thinking properly, but the invitation was already warming me through. “You’re inviting me to New York City?”

“Yeah.” I could hear him swallow, breathing nervously on my end. “There’s a flight that gets in late Saturday morning and then you could fly back early Sunday. I know you have a final Monday.”

“You’re not just doing this because you think I’m mad at you, right?” I asked, thought already running through my mind as I tugged on the ends of my hair.

“No!” Harry squashed that line of thought quickly. “I’ve been thinking about it since Tuesday.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Me in New York?” I didn’t want to doubt his intentions, but the residual emotions from our morning tiff were still there. I wanted to go – I knew that from the second he brought it up. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest decision, but it as what I wanted.

“I want you here.” He confessed quietly. I was done. I pressed my hand to my face, letting out another long sigh as I tried to weigh my options in my mind.

“I just left New York.” I pointed out.

“I know. And I know it’s more travel and you’re probably busy, but I just thought – it’s SNL. You love SNL. You can hang around backstage and see how it works. You’ll probably get to meet Paul Rudd. And you’ve never seen us perform.”

“I probably shouldn’t.”

Harry sighed, long and defeated. “Okay.”

“But I really want to.” I added, hating the little sad sounds he was making.

I dug my tongue into the side of my cheek in concentration. I needed a Pro/Con list, something to justify my actions. I was already done being mad at him, but I still felt weird. Going to New York for him was probably just going to cause more of a frenzy than everything already was.

But also, all I could think about was ZZ saying, “Don’t let them ruin it.”

And if I didn’t go, I would already be starting to let them ruin it.

My boyfriend wanted me to go to New York to see him perform on Saturday Night Live. My luck was huge and Harry was sweet and yeah, okay, he freaked out, but I was going to freak out inevitably one of these days too. I couldn’t hold it against him.

“Let me book a flight.” I finally said, ending the awkward pause between us. Harry’s intake of breath and little laugh made me feel lighter.

“You don’t have to, I already did.” There was a clicking sound on his end. ”I just emailed you the confirmation.”

“What were you going to do if I said no?” I quipped. “Just waste the money?”

“It’s refundable.” Harry replied easily and it was like the conversation between us was already so much lighter, this morning’s tension gone. “But I was really hoping you wouldn’t say no.”

“You make it too easy to forgive you.”

“I shouldn’t have been a knob in the first place.”

“Yeah, okay, that’s true.” I allowed.

He let out a happy hum. “I miss you.”

“You saw me like two days ago.” I laughed, even though, yeah, I totally missed him too, but I wasn’t exactly going to admit that.

“Am I not allowed to miss you? No one’s jabbed me in the ribs in two days. I reckon the spot’ll actually recover now.”

“I’ll make sure to punch you there tomorrow.” I promised, grin spreading wildly.

“I’d probably let you.”

“You’d totally let me.”

“So long as you promise to kiss it better.” We were flirting now and my smile was only spreading wider. I sunk down in my couch, blushing to myself at the sudden feeling of happiness spreading through me.

“Ah – there it is. You don’t really miss me. You’re just horny.”

“Can’t I be both?” He wondered.

“Go have a wank in the bathroom.” I suggested. “Watch some bad American porn.”

“No thank you, I don’t want to be permanently scarred for life.”

“You’ve got to have seen some before.”

“Yeah, I have, and it was scary! Why are their fingernails so long?”

“Make better scratches down backs?” I guessed. “Isn’t that supposed to be erotic?”

“Or bloody painful. Don’t ever get talons and try to maul my back.”

“You mean you wouldn’t be turned on by me scraping off several layers of skin as I get off? Touching you sensually?”

“Ahhh.” Harry shuddered, voice rippling through the phone. “Stop, now. It’s grossing me out.”

“You brought it up.”

“I thought maybe our talk about porn could gateway into something else!”

“It’s like eight in the morning.”

“No time is too early for phone sex.”

“You’ll see me in less than two days. You can wait until then.”

Harry let out a whine and I only laughed in response.


Harry didn’t have much free time on the Saturday morning that I flew into New York, just a spare hour and a half that was spent eating breakfast at a restaurant that you had to have reservations for (I didn’t know breakfast reservations were a thing) before we drove to the NBC Studios where SNL was filmed. They had a dress rehearsal and a sound check to do, then a dinner break before the actual live airing. Harry had insisted that I tag along for all of it, even though I suggested just finding a coffee shop somewhere to chill in while he worked.

I was practically shaking in excitement as Harry handed me the all-access lanyard to loop around my neck.

“You are my favorite person ever,” I reminded him as we walked into the dressing room specifically designated for One Direction. It was empty, save for Lou setting up her kit, because we were early. Harry had convinced one of the tech crew to give us a tour of the studio before the rehearsal began.

“Thanks.” He grinned at me. “You’re not too shabby yourself.”

When I was sure Lou was paying more attention to her phone than us, I kissed him quickly. Just a short, brief meeting of our lips, but Harry reeled me back in before I could fully pull away. His lips pressed back against mine, kissing me in a way that was way inappropriate for our venue, but that ignited my insides and made me feel all fluttery and jelly.

Kisses like that were why I came to New York.

“Thanks for coming.” He said against my mouth as he pulled away slowly. “Especially after I was a dick.”

“We still need to talk about that.” I reminded, thinking about how we should probably have an official, grown up conversation about the situation and our reactions. Just maybe not now.

“We will.” He promised. “Just not right now. Enjoy the SNL. Kristen Wiig is standing like four feet behind you and soon you’re gonna start hyperventilating.”

He was totally right.



Everyone was moving in a flurry, rushing to get the last bit of rehearsal done before the break and the show tonight. There were last minute props being finished on one side of the studio, a crowd of people dressed in their tech blacks adjusting some lighting across the way, and then performers in hair and makeup bustling from one group to the other.

Technically I wasn’t even supposed to be at the dress rehearsal, but Harry did that thing where he smiled in someone’s direction and got his way. I still didn’t want to be in anyone’s way, planting myself on one of the plush couches, near enough to the tray of snacks but far enough away that I wouldn’t cause any problems.

I itched to have my camera in my hands, to record the movement in the room if only to capture the buzz in the air, but I figured that was both illegal and a gross invasion of privacy.

No one knew I was in New York yet and I wasn’t entirely sure if anyone was supposed to know at all.

The two hours before the show passed quickly. I bonded with Niall over the little brownies on the snack table and had more than one person actually come over and strike up a conversation with me. No matter how many times it happened, there was always a little jolt to my system whenever someone wandered on over and asked, “Are you Ezra Callil?”

Tonight the question was also followed by, “Who are you here for?” to which I would nod over in Harry’s vague direction and mumble something about the idiot bouncing around in glittery boots.

“Was wondering how long it would be before you two got together,” Liam announced as he sided right up next to me on one of the couches backstage. They were on break, waiting for another sketch to finish, and I’d been sitting in the same spot for the last few hours. I didn’t want to watch the rehearsals of the sketches because I wanted to be properly impressed later, so I sat by the snack table and people watched.

“Oh really?” I looked up at him in surprise, a big smile in greeting. We’d briefly chatted earlier, before they’d gone off to sound check, but Harry had stolen me away to make up in an empty room during the first few skits. I felt like I hadn’t talked to Liam in forever. “Didn’t know that was a thing that was on your radar.”

“Seriously?” He laughed out, stretching his long legs out on the coffee table in front of us. “He’s liked you for so long.”

“He didn’t tell me for months.” I recalled, leaning back into the couch as well and turning a little to face him. “I had no idea.”

“Babe, it was kind of obvious.”

“He’s flirty with everyone.” I reasoned, shrugging my shoulders. “He’s like a walking example of ‘does he like me or does he just treat everyone like that?’ I didn’t want to make assumptions.”

Liam raised his eyebrow, shaking his head at me. “Do you know what he did when we got in the car after that first interview?”

I shook my head. I didn’t. Harry was across the room, squirming as Lou fussed with his hair. He kept making eye contact with me through the mirror, scrunching his face up or sticking out his tongue when he succeeded.

“He started watching your YouTube channel.” Liam supplied and I turned to look at him quickly, gaze snapping from Harry’s.

“No shit?” I sputtered out.

“No shit.” Liam confirmed, his smile growing wider now. “I think he probably watched all of them in a few days.”

“That – I can’t even—“ I struggled with a response, eyes flickering from Liam to Harry and back again.

I knew he’d seen a few of them – the one about him at the very least – but all of them?

“He’s had it bad since the start, babe,” Liam nudged his shoulder with mine. “Haven’t seen Haz act like that around a girl for a while.”

“Is that why you had dinner with me?” I asked suddenly, recalling the seemingly out of the blue Liam had called me up and invited me out for falafel. A few days later Harry called me up himself and asked me to lunch. That was the beginning of the thing between Harry and I, really.

For a few moments after dinner with Liam I thought maybe – just maybe – he was going to pursue me, but everything had been kept strictly platonic.

I knew I was right when Liam started blushing, rubbing the side of his cheek in embarrassment.

“Were you like, scoping me out?”

“I was curious, alright?” Liam shrugged. “He had it bad.”

“And you wanted to what? See that I wasn’t a crazy lunatic?”

“I just wanted to get a feel for things, y’know? See what was going on.”

“You are such a mama bear sometimes.” I shook my head at him, smiling to let him know that I wasn’t offended. How could I be? It was quickly becoming apparent that pretty much everyone was protective of Harry, looking out for him constantly, even if they wouldn’t admit to it. “Like protecting your cubs.”

“Harry doesn’t need protecting,” he replied, shrugging once more, before straightening up from the couch. “I was just looking out. And now everything’s worked out swimmingly and the world’s got Hezra and all is well and all that.”

“Yes, sure, all is well.” I rolled my eyes at how easy he made everything sound. “The Internet hates us most days.”

“Fuck ‘em.” Liam supplied easily. “Love the fans to death, but sometimes you just gotta say fuck ‘em. They don’t get to have an opinion about our love lives.”

“They have them anyway.” I protested. I was seeing their opinions pretty much everywhere these days. And they weren’t bothering me yet, not really, but I wondered how long that would last.

“You don’t have to give them any mind.”

“I don’t.” I was trying not to, at least. I could ignore the mean Twitter mentions, roll my eyes at the Tumblr tags, but it was the YouTube comments that got to me the most. Somehow it felt like it was interfering with some parts of my job and that bugged me on a deeper level than anything else. “I just don’t want Harry to.”

At this, Liam sighed, a deep, wary sound escaping him. “Harry’s Harry.” He said this, but I had a feeling he meant something else.

“That’s helpful.” I said dryly, trying to nudge him in a direction that would make him reveal more.

“He handles things how he handles things.” Liam continued, still without giving much clarification. “Just don’t let him get too much in his head.”

I wanted to ask for more clarification, what exactly the slightly vague warning meant, but Liam was already getting up off the couch, sending me a smile and a shoulder squeeze as he crossed the room and headed over to Louis.



I couldn’t figure out if it was rude to tweet during a live show or not, but I still used the set change breaks between skits to formulate my thoughts about the show. No one had to know that I was actually in New York to watch it – they could all just assume that I was livestreaming it from the Internet and not in the third row back from the front of the live studio audience.

Ezra Callil @ezracallil
snl snl snl snl snl snl

Ezra Callil @ezracallil
DOONEESE! Kristin Wiig! I! Can’t! Handle!

Ezra Callil @ezracallil
beautiful crooning of Afternoon Delight ty 4 harmonizing about morning sex

Ezra Callil @ezracallil
9 Direction is my new fav thing it’s gonna be a hit w/ all the ladies like that demographic is 9-90 good marketing

Ezra Callil @ezracallil
@harry_styles they’re supposed 2 b RED sparkly slippers mate

Aby G @adorabniallyo
@ezracallil just b/c you think you know Harry doesn’t mean you can make fun of him or his style

Ezra Callil @ezracallil
@adorabniallyo :l (pls work on your appreciation of jokes)

Niccolina @NickiDirectioner
@ezracallil you’re not funny no one appreciates your jokes.

Ezra Callil @ezracallil
@NickiDirectioner HEY remember that time when I made the entirety of 1D laugh w/ my superb jokes YEAH ME TOO



The atmosphere at the end of a Saturday Night Live episode was chaotic. There were celebratory cheers, shouted compliments, and a lot of hugging. The camera’s shut off a few minutes after the entire episode ending, the camera crew turning off the large, sprawling machines that I had been drooling over all night. Harry wasted no time in bouncing over to me, one large hand extending to grasp at my wrist and pull me into a hug.

The rest of the studio audience was being filed out by the house management crew, but the fancy shmancy pass hanging around my neck allowed me to stay.

“That was fantastic!” I told Harry as I reciprocated his hug, reaching up on my tiptoes so my lips were closer to his ear. “Fucking wonderful!”

“Yeah?” His large hands were pressed against the small of my back, pushing us closer together as he squeezed me tighter one last time. He was smiling the kind of smile that could’ve taken over the whole world, shiny teeth and sunken dimple and the kind of sparkly eyes only ever really seen in Disney animations.

“Brilliant.” I beamed right back, the code word not going unnoticed by the two of us as Harry’s smile only seemed to expand. “Even with your sparkly shoes.”

“Heeey,” Harry protested, one of his hands resting on the small of my back as he guided me back to the main stage, where crowds of people were still exalting over the successful show. “Don’t make fun of my shoes.”

“Just one joke? Maybe two?” I attempted to compromise, looking over at him with jokingly pleading eyes as we approached the rest of the band. “You make it so easy!”

He tried to narrow his eyes at me, but the smile on his face was too prominent to let any other expression but pure, unadulterated happiness through. “Shut it, you.”

I moved away from him the second we reached the other boys, jumping straight to Louis, who’s face was mimicking the same wide-eyed, all-teeth grin as Harry’s, and wrapped him in a hug. “Smashed it!” I exclaimed into his ear.

“Thanks, love.” Louis said. “I could see your beaming face in the audience the entire time.”

“I felt a bit like a proud mom – also, it’s the first time I’ve ever seen you all live. Color me impressed!”

More hugs, from Louis to Niall to Liam to Zayn and then back to Harry again. The show had been over for at least ten minutes, but no one was calming down. I could hear people shouting about drinks at some bar as different people pulled each other into different hugs. Harry was pressing a clandestine kiss to the edge of my mouth when Paul Rudd walked up to the boys, extending a hand to shake all of their hands once again.

“Couldn’t have asked for better musical guests,” he said sincerely. “You guys are the best.”

There were a chorus of thanks, mate and some other expressions of happiness before Harry nudged his shoulder with mine.

“This is Ezra,” he said, “She’s had a crush on you since she was nine.”

I jabbed him in the ribs so hard he yelped.



“Ezzie,” was the first thing drawn out of Harry’s mouth when he exited the dressing room and made it into the hallway where I was loitering, waving his phone around. “No Wizard of Oz jokes over my shoes. Not nice.”

“I just took a selfie with Paul Rudd.” I said back, completely ignoring him as I looked up, wide eyed and harried and clutching my phone.

I actually took more than one selfie with Paul Rudd – we took six and Kristin Wiig was in two of them. Shortly after Harry abandoned me with Paul Rudd (I was still blushing and stammering from Harry’s revelation of my childhood – and okay, still kind of ongoing - crush) to go change and wipe some of the stage makeup off of his face, there had been selfies taken. And a lot of compliments and more than one hug. I managed to keep some semblance of my cool, though not a lot, as Paul Rudd called Kristen Wiig over to take pictures with us after I admitted to her cameo being my favorite.

“You look a bit like you’re going to pass out.” Harry observed, reaching a hand out to grab my phone and flick through the photos. “You okay?”

“I – Paul Rudd. And Kristin Wiig.”

“I like this one,” Harry decided, showing me the photo of the three of us pulling ridiculous faces.

“It’s going to be my background for everything for the next fifty years.” I decided. “God I want to post it so bad.”

Harry shot me a strange look. “Then do it.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” I asked, shifting slightly where I stood. “It’s kind of advertising that I’m here.”

Harry still didn’t look like he completely understood.

“We’re supposed to be keeping things on the down low, right?” I recalled. “Not stirring up more shit because I’m here?”

Harry’s face dropped for only a moment, a slight crumbling of his smile as his eyes lowered. His tongue pressed between his teeth as he thought. “Post it anyway.” He finally shrugged.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” He affirmed. “Just – fuck it.” He shook his head. “Now let’s go get drunk.”

“Neither of us is old enough to drink in this country.” I reminded, gladly accepting when he wrapped one of his fingers around mine and started leading me down the hallway. I didn’t know if we were safe in here or not, but I trusted Harry’s judgment.

“This is true.” He acknowledged. “But trust me, there are ways around that.”

“Many ways,” Louis piped up as he emerged from the doorway and walked towards us. “Like bribing bartenders or having me buy your alcohol for you. But trust me, no one’s even gonna check. And we’re all gonna get bloody smashed.”



He was right. No one checked for ID – not at the entrance of the bar we were at, not at the actual bar itself. It was an open bar, the entire venue rented out for the after party, and Harry and I both did a great job of getting ourselves sufficiently sloshed.

I kept getting handed different colored mixed drinks from either Harry or Louis. They were tasty, but dangerous, and I was much more gone than I’d ever intended to be as I stumbled up from my seat in the direction of the bathroom. I really, really, really had to pee. Standing gave me a bit of a head rush, my sense of balance all skewed from the alcohol.

“Where’re you going?” Harry asked as I passed him, eyebrows furrowed as I continued to move away from him.

“Gotta peeeeeee.”

“You okay?” His speech was slurred and his eyes were droopy, but he was still standing up relatively straight. In much better condition than I was, considering he drank more often than I did and was about eighty pounds heavier. “Walking funny.”

“I’m drunk.” I hiccupped. “Like – really drunk. What is it you Brits say? Pissed. I’m proper pissed.”

I continued to move away from him, stumbling slightly over my own two feet and catching myself on the back of a chair. “Why did you let me do this? Bad idea. Such a bad idea.”

Harry excused himself from the circle of people he was standing with to help steady me, looping his arms under mine and hoisting me upright. “Never seen you this gone.” He murmured in my ear, chuckling as I shivered at the warmth.

“Don’t think I’ve ever been this drunk before.”

Maybe it was because the past two days had been stressful, maybe it was just the atmosphere, but I allowed myself to drink much more than I usually did, accepting drink after drink and not thinking about the consequences.

We stumbled into the bathroom all the way in the back of the club. It was a private one-person room, with a handicap sign on the door and no line in front of it. Harry rapped his knuckles against the door before trying the handle, letting out a noise of triumph at the lack of occupancy as he guided me over the threshold and inside. He flicked on the light and shut the door behind him, flipping the lock.

The room was small but surprisingly clean, just enough room for the two of us without being too crowded. I squinted over at Harry, the bright lights of the overhead hurting my vision.

“Get out.” I ordered. “Gotta pee.”

“You can hardly even stand up right now.” He shook his head. “You’ll fall and crack your head.”

“I’m fine.” I insisted, but the word took far too long to get out of my mouth and even I didn’t believe it.

“C’mon,” Harry instructed, pushing me over towards the toilet. “Pants down.”

“You’re not shagging me in the toilet, Styles. I have standards.”

Harry chuckled. “Bet you would if you weren’t so drunk.” He challenged.

“Nu uh.” I shook my head as my fingers fumbled with the buttons on my jeans. Harry’s fingers replaced mine, thumb and forefinger undoing the zip and the button quickly. “Totally wouldn’t.”

“Would if I turned you on enough.” He insisted, following the words by brushing his fingers under the waistband of my jeans and into my underwear.

My breathing hitched, words catching in my throat as I let out another hiccup. “Maybe.” I conceded, just as Harry let out another chuckle and withdrew his hand.

“Pants down.” He repeated. “You gotta wee, remember?”

I followed his instructions, pulling down my pants and slowly lowering myself to the toilet seat. Harry didn’t even blink as I started to pee.

“Been in a relationship like two weeks and I’m already peeing in front of you.” I had to keep my hands to my sides and my feet flat on the ground to steady myself.

“Kinda felt like it’s been longer.” Harry admitted, eyes on my face as he watched me carefully.

I scrunched my nose up at that. “Is that good or bad?”

“Good.” He explained as I finished peeing. I looked around for some toilet paper, but it was across the bathroom, sitting on the ledge of the sink. He passed me the roll silently. “Really good.”

“I hope it stays good.” I confessed as I grabbed the toilet paper from him. “Like forever.”

“Been pretty great so far.” He hummed, crossing over to me and flushing the toilet as I finished my business. I refused his help as I stood up, balancing on my own as I reached down and pulled up my pants. I felt a bit like a toddler and wondered if I should be embarrassed in front of him.

“All of your fans hate me.”

Harry’s eyes fluttered closed, body closing in on mine. His eyelashes were so long they brushed against his cheek.

“Ignore them. Please.” He insisted, words whispered between us.

“I’m trying.” I promised, letting my body slump into him. “Not so bad sometimes – just worried about my job.”

“Your job?” He echoed.

“Alfie’s mad because of the comments. All about us.”

“Are there a lot?”

“Toooooons.” I dragged the word out slowly, head rolling a bit to the side as I rested it against his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized into his hair.

“Shh.” I shook my head against him, tapping him on the shoulder in an attempt to get him to stop. “Stop. Not your fault.”

“But it is my fault.”

I shrugged. “If--” I hiccupped. “—you could stop it, you would. So shh.”

“It shouldn’t be this way.” He shook his head, sounding upset. “Shouldn’t be all complicated.”

“Maybe. But it is – besides, you’re worth it. No biggie. Alfie’s always a tit.”

“Need me to talk to him? Rough him up a bit?” Harry offered.

“Mhm. Just don’t wear your glittery boots when you do it. Prolly won’t take you seriously then.”

“They’re great boots.”

“Suuuuuuuure.”

We moved to the sink so I could wash my hands. Harry settled behind me, body surrounding mine as he pressed me between his front and the lip of the sink to keep me upright. He turned on the tap.

“You wanted this, right?” I wasn’t paying attention to what I was saying, the first things crossing through my mind exactly what I was saying.

“You to be drunk?” He questioned, grabbing my hands and running them under the water.

“No.” I shook my head. “This – us. I didn’t pressure you into it? You want it?”

His mouth opened but I kept going.

“You were so mad Thursday – like proper mad. Not just a lil mad like you get when I talk bad about your shoes, real mad. Kept thinking you were maybe mad because I trapped you into something you don’t want.”

“No,” Harry was shaking his head like mad. “I’m stupid – I was mad because I’m stupid. I want this. I want you. I probably wouldn’t have done it but I’m glad you did.”

“You wouldn’t have?” That was all I was focused on. “Wanted to date me?” My brow furrowed as I looked at him, suddenly feeling a little different as my stomach dropped. He wouldn’t have wanted to date me?

“Always wanted to date you. Just – official is different.” He was pressing his tongue in between his teeth again as he dispensed the soap.

“You don’t wanna be official with me?”

“It’s a lot to ask of someone.” He cleared his throat. “Being with me.”

“No it’s not. Being with you is easy. Easiest thing ever. Makes everything else worth it.” I needed him to know that, needed him to know how easy I found everything, because I didn’t like the way he was talking about himself.

“You’re not always gonna think that.” He murmured.

“How d’you know?” I wanted to scowl at him. “Don’t be an asshat and yeah I will.”

His hands covered mine as he wet them underneath the sink, lathering them up with soap. It tickled a little bit, but I was staring at his face through the mirror. Suddenly he looked tired, his hair flat and eyes a little less shining. There was a smattering of acne on his forehead from sweating with stage makeup on and a definite discoloration under his eyes.

“Promise me you won’t let it get to you.” I urged him.

Harry looked reluctant.

“Promise.” I repeated a little more forcefully. “Liam said you get too in your head and you can’t get in your head. Talk to me, like – tell me everything. I want to hear it all even if it’s you saying you don’t wanna do this anymore.”

“You’ve gotta talk to me too.” Harry swung that back around. “Especially when shit happens.”

“Will.” I nodded in agreement. “Promise. Now you promise too.”

“Promise.” He finally sighed.

We rinsed the rest of the soap off of our hands and reached for the paper towels, Harry patting his hands dry in mine.

“Still can’t believe you wore glittery boots.” I murmured against him as he turned me around. “Like Dorothy.”

“Admit it – you liked them.”

“Maybe a little bit. But only because they were on you and I think I’d like about anything having to do with you.”

“You’re so drunk right now.” He laughed, nuzzling his nose against the top of my head, pressing a kiss there.

“Yeah.” Another hiccup. “Want a milkshake.”

“You always want a milkshake.”

“Mmhm. Yup.” I nodded in agreement.

“Wanna go to Shake Shack?”

“Party’s still going on.” I nudged my head to the door as we slowly made our way there.

Harry shrugged. “Milkshakes are important. Zayn wants to leave anyway.”

“How d’you know?”

“Trust me, he does. Milkshakes?”

I pressed a kiss to his lips. “Please.”



www.tumblr.com/tagged/hezra
every time something dies down again something else happens and suddenly Hezra all over my fucking dash again like for real I don’t care

did you read the article posted on The Mirror like apparently someone saw them at the SNL after party disappear into a bathroom together they totally fucked

idk why you guys are arguing about them being a couple she posted a selfie with Paul Rudd obviously she went to SNL because obviously they’re dating

pictures of Hezra outside of the SNL studio, pictures of Hezra leaving the SNL afterparty looking hella smashed, pictures of Zarry + Hezra in the car outside of Shake Shack HEZRA OVERLOAD I LOVE IT

“A source inside of the Saturday Night Live after party this Saturday reports that both Harry Styles and Ezra Callil disappeared into a single-person bathroom together. The two were reported to have been affectionate all night, hugging and touching, and at the end of the party, Styles was photographed leaving with both Callil and fellow bandmate Zayn Malik. No official statement has been released on whether the two are actually dating or not, but we’re betting our money on it.” – Mirror.co.uk LIKE WTF??? WHAT’S GOING ON??

if they’re a PR stunt why are they disappearing into bathrooms together???

Obviously Harry’s getting a little desperate if he’s willing to fuck Ezra Callil like she’s not even pretty

so much happened there are like 400 different pictures I can’t even handle like Ezra looks so sloppy drunk but Harry looks happy I AM SO CONFLICTED

tbh why don’t they just straight up tell us that they’re dating instead of this stupid not telling not hiding shit

I NEED TO BLACKLIST THIS TAG IT JUST MAKES ME ANGRY

you know she’s just gonna get another million subscribers just because of him right?