I'm Half-Doomed and You're Semi-Sweet

I wasn’t supposed to be going to Australia. That was the whole problem. I had midterms and absolutely no time to just hop on a plane to go see my boyfriend for a day or two the week of my birthday. I would be spending said birthday alone, in England, while I studied like my life depended on it.

I was supposed to be sitting in my flat working on a paper for my Lit class and studying for the midterm coming up in my French class, but instead I was sitting on a plane on my way to Australia because my boyfriend was an idiot.

I didn’t have plans to head to Australia, even though I wanted to. If I had my way, I would have spent practically a whole week in Sydney with my boyfriend. If I had my way, my boyfriend wouldn’t have been away for my birthday and we could have celebrated with our friends and family, like a normal couple.

But we weren’t normal, I didn’t have it my way, and the only reason I was headed to Australia was because I needed to bail Harry out of jail.

The flight wasn’t as terrible as it could have been, even though I’d had to take a red-eye that connected in Singapore, and then I had to sit around for four hours before I could board and be on my way to Sydney. I kept telling myself it could have been worse, even though I wasn’t really sure that was true.

When I first got the phone call telling me Harry was fine, but he was sitting in jail in Sydney, my first thought had been to leave him there. He could rot in his bloody cell for all I cared.

I’d just gotten out of an exam in my French class that I was fairly certain was going to require a miracle for me to have passed and I was not in the mood for anything, much less that phone call. I had plans to head back to my flat and watch whatever mind-numbing telly program I could find and maybe order some takeaway.

But then my phone rang, and Louis of all people was on the other end. “He’s fine. First off, I want to say he’s fine.”

I was immediately on high alert. “What happened?”

Louis sighed into the phone. “He may have gotten into a little bar fight, and he may be sitting in a prison cell.”

“Excuse me?”

As I got more information, I found out that Harry had snuck out by himself for a few drinks, but instead of having even an ounce of sensibility or responsibility, he got into a fight and a cop looking for his fifteen minutes decided he wasn’t going to let Harry go simply because he was Harry Styles of One Direction.

Harry hadn’t really done anything wrong that warranted an arrest, but the cop was looking to make a point, and Harry was going to pay for it.

“What exactly do you want me to do?” I’d asked Louis when we were on the phone. I was sitting on the tube heading back to my flat and thinking of the eight million ways I was going to kill Harry when I saw him next.

Which apparently was going to be sooner rather than later. “There’s a ticket with your name on it waiting at Heathrow. Your flight leaves later tonight.”

Because of course. “Unbelievable,” I muttered, rubbing a hand over my forehead. “Unbelievable! He screws up and now I have to pay for it. What am I even supposed to do, Louis? I can’t bail him out of jail! I wouldn’t even be able to afford a flight right now!”

“Just come. We’ll deal with getting him out. Paul’s already there. He wants to see you, Ashley. “

That was how I found my flatmate Sonya driving me to the airport at 8 that night. “You sure about this?” she asked as she pulled up in the drop-off lane.

I sighed. “No. Yesterday we were fighting, and today I’m flying to Australia for him.” I shook my head. “I’ll be back Saturday I think.”

“And I’ll be here to pick you up. I’ll even have a cake waiting for you at home, because I am actually the greatest. Don’t be surprised if it says Happy Birthday! Your Boyfriend’s a Twat! on it though.”

I laughed and rolled my eyes before getting out of the car and saying a quick goodbye.

Now, I was gripping the arm rests of my seat while the plane landed. It was a little after 6 AM, I was exhausted, and I wasn’t sure if my boyfriend was still sitting in jail or not. When I got off the plane with my bag over my shoulder and my mobile in hand, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. I needed to call someone because I wasn’t even sure what hotel the boys were staying in.

I got to avoid the baggage claim due to not checking any luggage and headed outside. I dialed Louis’s number.

“‘Lo?” He answered, obviously just waking up.

“I’m at the bloody airport with no way to get to you twats, so I suggest you give me the name of the hotel or something quick before I turn around and head back to London.”

There was some scrambling and a few curses muddled before Louis came back to the phone. “Sorry, Ash. If you’d told me, I would have told Harry and—“

“Yeah, well, that’s why I didn’t tell you. Now, what hotel are you in? I’m exhausted and I can’t believe I’m here, but I am.”

Louis sighed. “The InterContinental. I’ll call down to the front desk and tell them you’re coming. Do you want me to wake up Harry?”

“So he’s out of jail then?” I snapped, hailing a taxi and climbing in. I rattled off the hotel to the driver and then brought the phone back to my ear.

“Paul bailed him out yesterday. He’s basically on lockdown right now, and in a shitload of trouble, but—“

“No. No ifs, ands, or buts. Good, I’m glad he’s in trouble. As he should be, because this is actually the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard in awhile. Call the desk, I’ll be there soon, and text me Harry’s room number.” I hung up without saying goodbye, because I was beyond done with the entire situation.

The thing of it was, my frustrations with Harry started long before I got the phone call from Louis, and honestly, the reason Harry had gotten into a fight in the first place had probably been at least partially my fault, at least in theory.

We weren’t perfect. We’d been together for almost two years, but we were not perfect. My mum called us two sides of the same coin—we fit together well, but we were so opposite on so many thing. I was responsible, reliable Ashley and he was irresponsible, unreliable, sometimes childish but always ridiculous Harry.

Sometimes I wondered how we’d ever gotten together in the first place. The only reason I’d ever even met Harry was through my flatmate. Sonya was dating Louis when we became roommates our freshman year of uni. She’d grown up with Louis, the classic case of childhood sweethearts. They were cute, albeit a little nauseating at times, but she was happy and that was what mattered.

Until her boyfriend’s best mate started hanging around our flat too. Then I wanted to kick all three of them out on the streets.

Harry was difficult and annoying, and that was on a good day. But we clicked. God only knows how, but we did. We went from me wanting to kick Harry out of our flat whenever I got the chance, to me wanting Harry to stay even when I had a paper due the next day.

We fought, and it was hard a lot of the time, but the times when Harry would come home for a few days during a break from tour and he’d crawl into my bed and I’d lay there and tell him about everything he missed while he was away, those were the times I lived for. We balanced each other out, and it may not have been easy, but it was worth it.

Until I was in Australia because said boyfriend had went and gotten himself arrested, of course. Then, well… I wasn’t so sure.

There were a group of girls outside of the hotel, which was how I knew I was in the right place. I paid the driver and got out, gripping the strap of my bag to the point that my knuckles were white. I kept my head down so the girls wouldn’t recognize me, went inside, and headed straight to the front desk.

“May I help you?” the girl asked, smiling bright at me.

“My boyfriend is staying in this hotel, um…” I trailed off, unsure how to tell her that I was there to see Harry Styles of One Direction. “His mate said he’d call down to the desk to let you know I was coming?”

“Name?”

“Ashley Spencer.”

She looked back up, catching my eye quick with wide eyes. “Oh. You’re—“

“Can you tell me the room number please?” I didn’t mean to sound so bitter, but I was exhausted and I still had my hoodrat boyfriend to deal with.

She nodded. “Of course, of course. He’s in room 612. I’m not allowed to give you a key though. Hotel policy.”

I waved her off. “It’s fine. Thank you.” I didn’t wait for a response as I headed over to the lift, hit the button, and waited a few moments. When the doors slipped open, I stepped inside, and hit the 6 until it was lit up and the doors were sliding shut again. It dinged straight up to the sixth floor and then the door slid open. The sign on the wall said I had to head to the left, so I walked down the hall until I found 612. I took a deep breath, and then I started banging.

I knocked my fist hard against the door five times, waited a few minutes, and then did it again. I kept this up for a few minutes, until my knuckles were starting to get sore, and then I opened my palm and started slamming it against the door. “Harry!” I hissed, bringing my face closer to the door. “Open this goddamn door right this instant.”

Something on the other side of the door crashed to the ground, and then I heard the heavy fumbling footsteps of my boyfriend. The door opened and he rubbed his eyes, squinting at me. He dropped his arm at his side, only wearing a pair of boxers and nothing else and frowned. “What are you doing here?”

I stormed by him into the room and dropped my bag onto his bed before I turned back around with my hands on my hips and a scowl on my face. “I just traveled more in the past day and a half than anyone should ever travel, and it was all to get to this stupid hotel and see your stupid face, because you’re so bloody irresponsible you can’t manage to stay out of trouble for one night.”

He groaned and rubbed his hands over his face before shutting the door and then turning back to face me. “I didn’t ask you to come.”

“No, you didn’t. That would be your bloody twat of a best mate who called me up yesterday when I got out of class and told me you’d went and gotten yourself arrested.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t really get arrested, I just—“

“I literally could not care any less right now.”

He sighed and walked further into the room, brushing by me and heading towards his suitcase, sitting on the floor with clothes strewn all around it. He put on a t-shirt and a pair of sweats before he brushed his hair off his face and looked up at me. “Are you hungry? Do you want to go—“

“No,” I hissed. “I don’t want to go and get something to eat, or go for a walk, or quite frankly go anywhere with you right now. I’m furious.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

I lifted a finger and pointed it at him. “Don’t. Do not be cheeky with me right now, Harry. This is—“

“Serious? I’m aware. I had a nice discussion with Paul, and Amanda, a phone call from my mum, and about a hundred other people yelling at me this morning telling me just how serious it was. I really, really don’t need it from my girlfriend as well, not when I haven’t seen her in weeks and the only reason I went out in the first place was because we’d gotten into a fight and she didn’t want to come see me.”

“Oh piss off.” I rolled my eyes and folded my arms over my chest. “Poor little you, yeah? You’re in bloody Australia in your five star hotel fit for a king. You have four or five days off in Sydney to do whatever you want, and then you’ll fly to New Zealand to play a show to thousands of people, which is your actual dream, and yet you still want me to feel sorry for you? You made an arse out of yourself because you threw a tantrum when I said I couldn’t come visit for my birthday, and then went and got yourself arrested, all because you didn’t get what you want.” I shook my head and scoffed. “Unbelievable. You’re unbelievable!”

“Did you really travel ten thousand miles just to yell at me? Think you could have done that over the phone, yeah?”

I took a step forward and slapped him on the arm. “No, I traveled ten thousand miles because I got a phone call telling me my boyfriend was sitting in jail in another country and I was bloody worried, although God only know’s why at this point because I’d sort of like to throw him in jail myself and leave him there.”

Harry scowled at me. “Are you finished?”

I huffed and crossed my arms, scowling right back. “I suppose.”

He nodded. “Since I’m awake, I’m going to get breakfast. Would you like to join me?”

”Absolutely not.”

“Fine. Shower, sleep, do whatever you want. I’ll be back in a little while.”

He grabbed his wallet off of the side table and then walked out of the room without another word.

***

When my eyes fluttered open, Harry immediately came into view. He was laying on his side, facing me, on the bed. I had no idea how long I’d been asleep, but the light streaming in through the door leading out to the balcony screamed mid-afternoon, at least, if not later. I rolled over onto my back and stretched my arms above my head and half-yawned, half-groaned. “What time is it?”

Harry hummed. “About 5 I think? Maybe later.”

I rolled back onto my side so I was facing him. His hair was damp, probably from the shower judging by how I could smell the sharp, clean smell of the body wash he used as if the bottle was laying right in front of me. “Guess the jet lag caught up to me.”

He cracked a smile. “Always does.”

I sighed. The way we were talking to each other felt like walking on eggshells. “I want to apologize, but I don’t really think I have anything to apologize for.”

Harry shrugged, just barely moving his shoulders. “Maybe you don’t.” Then, silence again.

I rolled my eyes and sat up, raking my fingers through my hair. “This is stupid,” I muttered, throwing my legs over the side of the bed. I got up and started rummaging through my bag, looking for my toothbrush and clothes to change into.

“What are you doing?”

The genuine concern in Harry’s voice made me stop and look up. I frowned and held up my purple toothbrush. “I’m going to brush my teeth, because my mouth tastes like something died in it, and I might shower, and then I’m going to come back out and you’re going to order me something to eat because I’m starving, and we’re going to talk.” I stood up straight with my things in hand. “Okay?”

He sighed, but nodded, and I headed into the bathroom.

After a quick shower in which I came out smelling more like Harry than I ever had before and finally brushing my teeth, I walked out of the bathroom and found him laying on the bed with the remote on his stomach and the telly on to an old Man U game. I remembered watching that game with Harry weeks ago, before he left, and Man U had lost 5-2.

“They lose,” I deadpanned, walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge of it, twisting my body so I was facing him.

He chuckled and clicked the telly off, tossing the remote onto the side table and turning back around with… a plate in his hand.

“I know it’s not your birthday yet,” he said slowly, setting the plate between us. There was a giant cinnamon roll covered in icing, and in the middle of it was a little purple and white stripped candle lit up. When I looked back up, Harry was shrugging. “Figured it was a start, though.”

I sighed and leaned forward, blowing the candle out. “You know,” I said, pulling the candle out and wiping the icing off of it. I licked it off my finger and kept going. “I had this vision for my birthday, before I realized you weren’t going to be home for it. I thought my parents might come down the day before to take me out to dinner and you could come along. You and my dad could bond over awful puns and my mum could frown over her menu at the scribble art covering your arms.

“Then on my actual birthday, you’d get me a cake—red velvet, of course, with tiny purple flowers because you know I’m not a huge fan of icing—and maybe we’d go out with Sonya and Louis, or maybe we would stay in because I’d have a test the next morning, then that weekend we’d celebrate.” I shrugged and kept my eyes focused on the plate. “Nothing extravagant, but I figured it’d just be nice to have you there.

“But when I realized you’d be gone, I thought maybe, just maybe it’d all work out and I could come out for a few days. I’d miss a day or two of classes and we could spend a few days together, and it’d probably be stressful but it’d be worth it.”

“Then we got into the fight,” he said, finishing the thought for me. “And then you wanted nothing to do with me.”

I rolled my eyes and looked up. “I never want nothing to do with you, twat, but that’s sort of the problem, isn’t it?”

He frowned, his eyebrows furrowing like they did when he thought I was speaking a different language. “What do you—“

“Do you know how many times we’ve been in the same country, let alone the same city in the past six months?”

His shoulders dropped and he sighed. “Ashley—“

“Probably a handful of times. I’m not complaining, because I get it. I know this is your job, and this is what I signed up for when we started dating. It’s not like I didn’t know. But in that same time frame, do you know how many times we’ve fought? Because I do, and I can tell you, that number is a lot larger.”

“I really don’t like where it sounds like this conversation is heading.”

I shook my head. Me either. “I just don’t—“

“Will you just—“ He broke off and let out a frustrated noise. I watched as he picked up the plate and set it on the side table, and then held his arm out to me. “Come here.”

I didn’t want to. I sort of wanted to run out of the hotel room and not look back, but he was wearing my favorite shirt, white and plain but incredibly soft, and I wanted to curl up against him more.

I crawled up the bed and he wrapped his arms around me until I was pressed against his side. I laid my head on his chest and closed my eyes. I wasn’t tired, but I had no plans of getting up any time soon.

His lips pressed against the top of my head and then I felt his cheek rest there. “When are you leaving?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Tomorrow night, after the show.”

“You’re coming to New Zealand with us tonight?”

The shock in his voice didn’t surprise me one bit, considering even I was a little surprised. “Well, I’m here aren’t I?”

He had one arm wrapped around my waist, resting against my hip, and I felt him start to draw circles against my skin. “Stay,” he whispered.

I didn’t know what he was asking. Stay for the rest of the tour? Doubtful, considering he knew that was impossible. I just nodded. Whatever he was asking felt important, but that was all I could do.

***

There were only so many times I could watch the same performance before I felt like my brain was either going to melt or my eardrums were going to burst. I loved watching Harry sing and how much he enjoyed performing, I just could have done without the thousands of screaming girls.

I especially could have done without spending the night of my birthday like that. But I only had a few more hours left before I was going to head to the airport, and I was going to spend them as close to Harry as I possibly could—even if that meant sitting out in the crowd as far away as I was.

After our talk in bed, we ended up ordering some room service, ate dinner in bed, and then we had to check out of the hotel and take the boys’ private jet to New Zealand, so we didn’t talk much more after Harry asked me to stay. As soon as we got to the hotel in Christchurch, the two of us fell asleep almost as soon as our heads hit the pillows. When I woke up, Harry’s arms were wrapped around me and he had his body glued to mine.

The boys all sang me a very harmonized happy birthday that morning and I got a special stack of chocolate chip waffles at breakfast. It was nice, Harry held my hand under the table, and I did everything I could not to think about our conversation the day before.

Then before I knew it, we were at the venue and they were doing soundcheck and getting ready and I barely had more than a handful of moments with Harry alone.

Like always.

I ended up spending more time with Lux than I did anyone else.

I watched the boys all sit down in their respective spots on the stage while they sang Little Things. It was one of my favorite parts of the entire show, not really because of the song—even though it was one of my favorites—but more because I really got to hear Harry’s voice.

I loved Harry’s singing voice. I loved how varied he could make it, but I especially loved when it was low and raspy. It never failed to give me goosebumps. I loved how he’d close his eyes when he was trying to hit a note just right. I loved when he did his solo for What Makes You Beautiful, even though I’d heard it a million times before and it was the same every single time.

Once I started thinking about the things I liked, I couldn’t stop.

I hated the stupid headbands he wore, but I loved the way his hair looked right after he showered. It was soft and fluffy and I just wanted to run my fingers through it. I loved his sentimental attachment to things, like his stupid boots that practically had holes in them but that he couldn’t bare to part with, or how great he was with Lux. I loved how, if he was home and I was going to be up late studying, or working on a paper, he’d make me tea, just right, and how he called his mum every single day, without fail.

When it came down to it, I loved Harry. Of course I did, but I hated being away from him more. I hated how little I got to see him, and I hated that when I did see him, we would fight, or our time was limited.

I thought I’d made up my mind by the time Harry came off stage. I was sitting in their dressing room when the lot of them came bursting in the room, filling up the previously quiet space with their combined adrenaline and energy.

Harry collapsed on the sofa next to me, entirely too close considering how sweaty he was, and grinned. “Good birthday show?”

I smiled. “You guys did good. As always.”

His smile widened and he leaned in to kiss my cheek. “I’m going to shower and then—“

“Can we talk?” I cut in, because I knew if I didn’t do this now, it wasn’t going to happen, and it needed to happen.

He frowned and pulled back. “Everything all right?”

I smiled and nodded. “Just want to talk.”

He looked at me for a a few minutes, like he knew I was lying, but then nodded. “Yeah all right. Come on.”

I followed him out of the room and down the hall. We just walked until we found an area where there was no one else, no sound, just us. Harry stopped and backed away from me, leaning against the wall across from me. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and nodded. “So, talk?”

“You knew we were going to have to do this sometime, Harry. We can’t just—“

“I figured we weren’t going to do it literally an hour before you had to go to the airport!” he burst, cutting me off.

I sighed. “Well we have to, because I am leaving, and I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what exactly?” he snapped. He was getting angry, and I didn’t want that. I didn’t want any of this.

“Come on, Harry. You can’t tell me that this has been easy lately. You’re always gone, and when you aren’t, we’re fighting, and when you are, we’re fighting. We’re always fighting. I feel like there’s more hate here than love, and—“

“That’s actually the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard, Ashley, and you know it.”

I sighed and dropped my shoulders. “Do I?”

“Fuck yes, you do!” He pushed himself off the wall and took a step so he was closer to me. “Can you honestly say that, even after the yelling yesterday, you weren’t happy to see me? Even a little bit?”

“That’s not the point, and you know it.”

“The fuck it isn’t!” He raked his fingers through his matted curls. “It’s the whole point, Ashley! I don’t see you for weeks, and even though you only came to yell at me, even though you only came because we got into a fight and I got arrested, you still came. And the second I saw you standing in my doorway, I felt like the past 24 hours hadn’t happened. Nothing else mattered, because you were there, and that was everything.”

I shook my head and folded my arms over my chest. “It is not. I’m not saying I don’t love you—“

“Sort of sounds like it, to be fair.”

“—I’m saying that I can’t do this anymore. You think I don’t love you?” I scoffed. “Then you’re even more stupid than I gave you credit for yesterday. I flew to Australia, just to see you for 24 hours. Of course I love you, you idiot! But I love you so much, and I never get to see you. You’re never home. When we started dating, I was just dating Harry Styles. Now I’m dating Harry Styles, International Touring Boybander, and it’s hard! It’s so fucking hard, but I tried. I really did. I thought I could do it, but I can’t. I love you, but I just—“

“Stop!” he snapped. He took another step forward and put both hands on my cheeks, framing my face. “Please stop talking, because the more you talk, the more I really do think this conversation is going somewhere I don’t want it to go.”

I felt like my heart was getting ripped out, put through a shredder, and then the remains lit on fire right in front of me. “I think we just need to take some time—“

He stopped me with his lips, kissing me hard and insistent, like his life depended on it. The tense-ness in my shoulders faded away and I wrapped my arms around his neck, because if this was it then it was going to mean something.

He backed me up until my back was hitting the wall and he kissed me until I felt like all of the air in my lungs was completely gone. His teeth pulled at my bottom lip until I felt like he was trying to draw blood, and then he pulled back and dropped his mouth to my neck. He mouthed at whatever skin he could reach and I closed my eyes.

I thought about the first time he kissed me, soft and sweet and not at all like what was happening now, and then I thought about the first time he really kissed me. His fingers gripped my hips tighter and I thought about the time I was making him cupcakes in my kitchen and he’d ambushed me and we’d ended up making out, my back pressed hard against the counter while the cupcakes burned in the oven.

We’d been together for almost two years, and we had a lot of good memories in that time span. A lot of fights, but while Harry’s lips passed over my neck, collarbone, and back up my jaw, all I could think about were the good times.

“I love you,” I gasped quietly, when he nipped at a particularly sensitive spot right below my ear.

“Stay,” he whispered in my ear, sending goosebumps up and down my arms. “Please. I love you. Just… stay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He punctuated each apology with a kiss until his mouth was on mine again.

It was like all of the anger had drained out of him and he was back to soft and sweet, or maybe worn-out and exhausted, but either way it was considerably different. When he pulled back, he pressed his forehead against mine, breathing heavily. “I know it’s hard,” he said quietly. “And I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do. But fuck, I love you, and the idea of you leaving here with a goodbye that doesn’t have an I’ll see you when you get home attached to it sort of makes me feel sick.”

It was hard. It was really hard, and the fact that the tour was coming to an end only meant another world tour next year. It wasn’t going to stop any time soon, and it wasn’t going to get any easier.

Neither was my being in love with him though. If we broke up right then, I’d just be in love with him and alone, for real, instead of being in love with him and waiting for him to come home next. It’d be hard and I really wasn’t looking forward to it, but it was better than leaving alone.

“I can’t do it,” I said quietly. He pulled back and his face dropped like I’d slapped him. I shook my head. “I can’t leave and say goodbye for good. I can’t do it. A small part of me wants to, thinks it’d be for the best, but a larger part of me thinks I’m just being stubborn. Because I love you too, and as hard as this is, I think it’d be a lot harder to leave you. For good.”

He kissed me again. “I’m sorry,” he said when he pulled back. “I know this is hard, and I wish I could make it easier on you. I hate that you have to do this, but fuck, I love you, and if you’d just told me you were leaving, for good, I think you would have had to come back to bail me out of jail again.”

I laughed, even though it wasn’t funny, and rolled my eyes. “You’re terrible.”

He nodded. “I know.”

“But I love you.”

This time he smiled. “I know that too.”

He kissed me again, and it felt like it held everything we wanted to say but couldn’t. “Happy birthday Ashley,” he said quietly, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me tight against his chest.

I pressed my cheek against his chest and smiled. It had probably been one of the most screwed up birthdays I’d ever experienced, but standing there with Harry, I was fairly certain it was one of the best.

Happy birthday to me.