Perfect Teeth

Video Log, youtube.com/ezracallil
23/09/13 – 27/09/13
Monday Funday – Condiment Twister with Daily Grace
“If you couldn’t tell by the fact that Grace and I are in the same country as we film this, this is prefilmed. Like way prefilmed. Like we are filming this in August – yay Vidcon! – and this will be up late September. Also, this is probably the most disgusting thing I’ve ever done.”

TMI Tuesday – Let’s Talk About Sex
“Let’s talk about sex, baby. Let’s talk about you and me. But not you and me having sex, because I’d like to be in an established relationship for that. Y’all have been asking me some weird sex questions, not all of which I feel qualified enough to answer, but I’ll do what I can.”

VLOG: Yes, My Life Really is Super Boring
“What will it take to convince you all that I don’t have a super fun, super exciting life all of the time? A vlog in which you follow me from home, to school, to the library, to the studio, to Chinese food, to back home? Well, you asked for it…”

Friday is My Day – How To Be Sexy
“Why are you letting me give you advice on how to be sexy? Have you guys met me? I’ve worn the same pair of pants – jeans – four times this week.”


Wednesdays were my good days. I only had one class in the morning, a supplementary activity session for my film studies class, and the two hours spent in there were usually spent watching short films and analyzing them. After that morning class, I was completely free. No filming to do for Daily Mix (that happened on Thursdays and Fridays) and no filming for Tongue in Cheek TV. Unless I had a main channel video to shoot, the only things I ever had for Wednesday afternoons were coursework. And even then, most days I blew that off a little to relax or wander around the city.

I was practically skipping out of my film activities class, dopey smile on my face and everything. It was nice to have an afternoon free – no definitive plans in sight, just a few free hours to relax and do whatever I wanted to do.

My phone was in my hand, updating to retrieve my newest emails, when it started to buzz, Harry’s name blinking at me.

I answered it immediately, fingers swiping across the screen. “Hellooo?”

“Do you have any plans today?” He asked immediately, skipping the pleasantries and going straight to the point.

“Not any definitive ones. Why?”

We hadn’t hung out in a few days, since the birthday party and the cuddling that resulted after. A few texts were exchanged briefly, but nothing more than quick, casual attempts at conversation.

Mainly because I was busy with school and he was busy preparing for tour. And also, maybe, there was a part of me that felt that something had changed between us, some type of invisible shift, but I wasn’t exactly sure what that was or what it meant or whatever.

“Good.” He replied. “I’ll pick you up outside of your apartment in fifteen minutes.”

“Wait, what? Why? Where are we going?”

“Just be ready.”



It was pretty obvious where we were going once I saw the huge parking structure. I had spent the majority of the ride trying to get clues as to where we were going out of Harry, but he had merely shrugged and told me to wait every time I asked. When I saw the yellow and blue sign, I let out a surprised noise and turned to him.

“IKEA?” I asked, voice hopeful.

He turned to me with a grin as he pulled into the parking garage. “IKEA.” He confirmed.

I sent him a grateful smile. “You really don’t have to do this, Harry.”

He shrugged, sparing me a brief glance as he pulled into an open parking space. “I wanted to hang out with you before I left and this seemed like as good as place as any to go. And you’ve openly admitted to the world that the one chair you have in your apartment is broken. That’s really sad.”

“You are an absolute peach.” I beamed as I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened my car door. “When do you leave for Australia?”

“Tomorrow night.” He said.

“Damn.” I let out a low whistle. “And you’re gone for how long?”

He shrugged a little before answering, walking towards the automatic doors. “A month or so, then we go to Japan for a few shows, then we’re home.”

“That’s going to be amazing.” I told him with a smile, already imagining how much fun they were going to have in Australia.

“I’m really excited, yeah.” He smiled just as widely back at me. “We hardly ever get to go to Australia, so it’s probably going to be mental, but I’m excited for it. We’ve been working really hard.”

“Have your synchronized boybander moves down pat?” I teased as we walked to the escalators.

Harry rolled his eyes at me. “You’re just jealous of my moves.”

I let out a snort. “Obviously.”

Harry in IKEA was somewhat reminiscent to a kid in a toy store – he wouldn’t stop touching everything. We headed straight up to the showroom and he bounced around between the different display sets, resting on couches and getting into the designed shower spaces.

“What kind of furniture do you need?” He asked, resting against a blue living room set.

I let out a shrug. “A couch. A desk. Probably a bed frame. Basically everything.”

“What do you have in your apartment right now?” He prompted, stretching his long legs out before him and crossing them on the coffee table, scuffed boots along the edge.

“Um, a mattress, a folding dining room table, and a chair?”

“Jesus, Ezra, and you call yourself an adult.” He chastised, shaking his head at me as he stood up, walking around the perimeter of the display apartment we were in right now.

“I’ve been busy!” I defended, because I had. I barely had enough time to sleep most days, let alone extra time to go out furniture shopping.

We moved from furniture set to furniture set, testing out the different couches and taking the number slips of things that I liked. Harry moved through the different rooms enthusiastically, always aiming for a laugh when I would turn around and he would be posed ridiculously on one of the pieces of furniture.

“Paint me like one of your pretty French girls, Ezra.” He had purred from one large sectional, laying out seductively and jeering his eyebrows at me. I refused to paint him, but I did take a picture.

In one of the kitchen sets he donned an apron and pretended to be flipping eggs with a pan and spoon he found in one of the drawers, refusing to leave until I sat down and he served me imaginary eggs and toast, complete with a cup of coffee.

“You know we have to test out all of these, right?” He said when we stepped into the array of beds, eyeing the different mattresses and frames for a second before he took off, practically catapulting himself onto a queen sized mattress, his entire body bouncing up as he laughed.

IKEA was fairly empty for a Wednesday afternoon, but there were still enough people around to garner enough strange looks.

I thought briefly about being an adult about the situation, but it was my Wednesday off, so I let out a laugh and joined in with Harry, flopping down on the bed next to him in a fit of giggles.

We moved from bed to bed, testing the frames and giving judgments based on bounciness and comfort, until we eventually collapsed on a low, queen sized model set, laughing lightly as we regained our breath.

Testing out mattresses was surprisingly tiring.

When I (stupidly) voiced that sentiment, Harry made a suggestive face and I flushed.

“This all feels very (500) Days of Summer,” I laughed, resting my head on one of the plush throw pillows on the display bed.

“Very what?” Harry parroted, turning his head slightly to the left.

“You know the scene where they’re in IKEA?” He still looked confused. “(500) Days of Summer? Joseph Gordan-Levitt? Zooey Deschanel? Disillusionment of the manic pixie dream girl?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen it.” Harry shrugged.

I pressed my hand over my heart, wounded. “Shot through the heart, Styles.”

“Excuse me.” He scoffed playfully. “Let me make time to watch every indie film you like so we can have a proper conversation, you little hipster.”

“I’m the hipster? <i>I’m</i> the hipster? You’re best mates with Nick Grimshaw! You hang out with Alexa Chung! They’re like the hipster king and queen of London!”

“You’ve hung out with Nick and Alexa, so you’re just as bad.” He reasoned.

“Once. I hung out with them once. I’m not cool enough to be a proper hipster – don’t have the trendy clothes. You, on the other hand, with your boots and your double flannel, are as hipster as they get. Which is great, considering you’re in a boy band.”

“Leave my boy band out of this.”

“Whatever.” I huffed. “I still can’t believe you haven’t seen (500) Days of Summer.”

“Some of us have real jobs.” He knocked his elbow with mine teasingly. “Not all of us can study film all day.”

“Regardless,” I ignored him. “There are still some movies that everyone needs to watch. They should be mandatory for human existence.”

“You sound so pretentious right now.” Harry laughed. “It’s adorable.”

“It’s not adorable!” I snapped. “It’s a serious matter. Movies are important! They’re introspective and they give commentary on society and --,”

Harry cut me off, laughing. “I’m just taking the piss. I understand. You’re a movie buff; I’m ignorant in the world of fine cinema. I need to be educated.”

“You do. Between one world tour and the next, you should consider taking a class or something.”

“Or you could teach me.” He suggested.

I raised an eyebrow. “Too bad you’re leaving for a different continent in like a day.”

“You are in media communications, Ms. Callil. You of all people should know that distance means nothing with technology.”

“What’re you suggesting?” I asked. “Trans-Atlantic movie watching?”

“We can call them study sessions. You can quiz me after. Very scholarly.” Except the way he said “study sessions” made it sound like something else, less educational in the way of books and film and more educational in the way the inside of his mouth looked. I flushed.

I was like a dog in heat. Sweet Jesus. Every rumble of his voice made my spine clench.

“Harry, you’re going to be busy--,” I started.

“Yes.” He nodded.

“—I don’t want to take up too much of your time making you watch movies when you could be out like, enjoying Australia or picking up chicks or something.”

He raised his eyebrow at the end of that, but then just shook his head, the same smile on his face.

“One can always make time for their education.” He grinned.

“Harry--,” I continued to protest; trying not to squirm uncomfortably at the cheeky look he was giving me. Because it didn’t just sound like promising to educate him in the world of good movies, but more like a weekly block of time in which we would commit it to spending with each other.

Like a date.

And I didn’t know if I liked that or not, so I didn’t want to think about it.

“You’d be surprised at how much down time there is sometimes, just waiting around in venues or hotels.” He continued. “It’ll give me something to do.”

“I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. They’re just movies.” I tried to backtrack.

“Obviously, they’re not just movies.” He dismissed. “They’re important to you, so they’re important to me.” He shrugged, the statement rolling off of his tongue so nonchalantly. “We can figure out times and stuff when I know my schedule and what works for you, but start thinking of the essentials. I’m gone for five weeks.”

My breath hitched in my throat, but I was already sighing out a “fine” and rolling my eyes. “But be prepared to have your mind blown and entire life shaken by these cinematic masterpieces.”

“I’ll be more than prepared.” He reassured dryly. “I’ll bring popcorn.”

I gave him a look that conveyed that I was less than pleased with his attempts at sass. I was the sassy one. I had a shirt that very firmly stated ‘too sassy for you’ and I wore it at very opportune times, like always. “What would you do if I made you watch This is Us five times?”

“Be flattered that you can recognize true cinema at it’s finest.” He replied easily.

“Oh shut up, you goob.” I jabbed him in the side and he twisted away from me with a yelp.

“God, abusive!” He cried, rolling off the bed ever so gracefully (re: looking like a flailing chicken), legs tumbling as he stumbled, bracing himself on the end table. His sweater had bunched up at his side, revealing the waistband of his boxer briefs and the beginnings of his very temping v-lines.

I ignored him, tearing my eyes away from his person (stopstopstop Ezra) and swung my legs over the side of the bed. “I actually do like this frame.” I said after a moment, eyeing the simple, black bedframe. It was low to the ground and simple enough that it wouldn’t matter how I decorated my apartment. Not that it mattered much how I decorated my apartment in the first place, but still. Options.

Harry grabbed the tabbed ticket with the model number and shoved it in his pocket. “Now let’s pick you out a couch.”

<center>--</center>

“I’m going to call Liam.” I huffed four hours later, sitting in the middle of a dismembered coffee table, a screwdriver in one hand and the instruction papers in the other. “Because we have no idea what the fuck we’re doing.”

Assembling the two end tables hadn’t been that hard, just screwing together legs to the base, and the chair was easy too, but putting together a bedframe was a seemingly impossible task for Harry and I to complete.

He snatched the instructions from my hand once again, tilting his head and squinting to get a better look at the picture. “We don’t need Liam.”

“He probably could’ve had this put together fifteen minutes ago.”

“We don’t need Liam.” Harry just repeated firmly, putting the instructions down and plucking the screwdriver from my fingers.

“Don’t be stubborn.” I watched as he connected one of the longer wooden pieces to a leg, standing up to maneuver the pieces around his legs.

“I am perfectly capable of putting together a bedframe, thank you.” He grumbled, not even bothering to look up at me as he attached another piece together.

“I’m not questioning your abilities, I’m just saying that we probably need Liam.” Okay, maybe I kind of was questioning his abilities, but regardless. Harry could do a lot of things – he could sing and do weird dance moves and eat large quantities of cake, but I wasn’t entirely confident in his ability to put a bed together.

“I can put this bedframe together.” He reassured me. I shook my head in disbelief, but shrugged my shoulders noncommittally, before rising off of my feet and heading towards the kitchen. Putting all of the furniture together was a trying task and I was hungry.
Forty-five minutes later Harry was letting out a noise of triumph and standing in front of the assembled bedframe, which he had scooted to the corner where my mattress had previously been, said mattress resting on the frame.

“I told you I could put it together.” He humphed victoriously, one hand on his hip, the screwdriver still dangling from the other.

“Yes, but did you put it together <i>well</i>?” I asked incredulously, taking a step towards the frame and leaning down, pressing a hand to one end to check if it supported weight. “It needs to be sturdy.”

This garnered a look from Harry, another cheeky smile on his face as he raised his eyebrows. “Does it?” He asked, his voice dropping into another low register. “Does it need to be sturdy?”

My eyebrows furrowed at the weird look on his face. “What--?”

“Should we have a test run, then?” He asked, crossing towards me. “Some vigorous physical activity to make sure it’s in working order?”

I think it was supposed to be a joke. A joke between mates. With an accompanied eyebrow leer and maybe a different atmosphere, it would’ve been a joke, but the way Harry was looking at me made it feel less playful and feistier. My breathing labored slightly.

My cheeks flushed, eyes widening at his innuendo. “Shut the fuck up.” I snapped, feigning boredom, before rolling my eyes at him and standing up straight quickly.

“I’m a willing candidate for a test run.” He continued, sliding right up next to me. He let the screwdriver drop down to the floor. “See if it can support a good amount of weight, movement—“

“—feel free to stop whenever—“

“—make sure that it doesn’t buckle under multiple rounds of physical activity—“

“—don’t you have like, somewhere to be?” I interjected quickly, just wanting him to shut up before the flush on my cheeks got any worse. “A tour to pack for? Goodbye to say?”

“Trying to get rid of me, Ezra?”

“Yes.” I replied bluntly. Hours had passed since he initially picked me up, it now nearing five o’clock, and he probably had somewhere to be.

He only let out a laugh, before shrugging his shoulders and shoving his hands in his pockets. “I understand. I took you to IKEA and put your furniture together. You have no use for me anymore.”

“Damnit, however did you figure out my plan?” I lamented.

“You’re transparent. Acting really isn’t for you.”

“Guess I’ll just have to make films instead of be in them.”

“Good plan, good plan.”

He stepped away from the bedframe, appraising his hard work, before reaching for his jacket and shrugging it on. “I do actually have to go,” he sighed, reaching into his pocket for his phone, clicking the lock screen and checking the time. “I’m having dinner with my mum soon.”

“Don’t let me keep you. You’ve already done enough. Have a good tour.” I said quickly, giving him a soft smile and heading towards the door.

Harry looked unamused, giving me a long look. “Give me a proper goodbye, Ezra. I think I even deserve a hug for what I’ve gone through for you today.”

I rolled my eyes, but stepped towards him anyway, wrapping my arms around his body, melding into him. Harry responded accordingly, his hands grasping at my waist as he pulled me closer. My face nestled right into his neck, his chin resting against the top of my head. I relaxed against him, feeling the warmth of his skin through his t-shirt and briefly thinking about how familiar he felt.

“Have a good time in Australia.” I murmured against his skin. “Wear lots of sunscreen. Use protection. Be safe, etc.”

“I will.” He promised with a laugh. “Have fun with your first English winter while I’m enjoying the sunshine.”

“Don’t rub it in, asshole.”

“I gave Nick your number, so he might call you.” He said. “I think you two would get along. Might ruin the world with your sass, but it’d be funny.”

I laughed against him, before letting my arms go slightly slack, preparing to pull away. Harry pulled away, but only a fraction, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around my waist. He looked down at me, his eyes flickering down my face. I tried to keep my expression neutral, staring up at him, but I felt everything except for calm. He was too close, smelt too good. I kept thinking about what I had said to ZZ, about how I didn’t want to have a crush on him, and I was wondering if I was slowly crossing into the line where it was going to be inevitable.

“Thanks for today.” I spoke softly, almost a whisper, because it seemed like the type of situation in which one spoke in hushed tones.

His arms were around my waist and my breathing was labored. Somehow this seemed more intimate than the cuddling, probably because both of us were perfectly coherent and sober this time.

“You’re welcome.” He replied just as softly. “Thanks for putting up with me.”

I rolled my eyes playfully. “You’re only kind of a pain in the ass.”

He let out a chuckle, his lips twitching upwards into a grin. He closed his eyes a moment, before opening them again, gaze seemingly to flicker across my face.

“Sort those movies out.” He said finally, his voice a low rasp. “I’ll text you when I know times.”

I nodded. “Will do. Have a safe flight.”

He gave me another grin and I smiled just as widely back at him, before he pressed his lips to my forehead. I felt him smile against my skin, before he squeezed my waist one last time, pulled away, and left.

Ezra Callil @ezracallil
some kind fool took me 2 ikea today everything is great

Harry Styles @harry_styles
Apparently I am uneducated in the world of film. Hopefully I’ll be having a good teacher…