Unbreakable

Harry stuffed one of his hands into the pockets of his this-should-be-illegal-for-the-sake-of-his-male-reproductive-system jeans, leaning his back against the shiny 2013 black Chevrolet Camaro. He definitely adored the car, but he'd already gotten his Audi R8 by the time he'd fallen in love with her car. Then when he figured he could get another car, he ended up buying a Ferrari, which was most definitely not a Chevrolet.

The hand that wasn't stuffed into his ridiculously tight jeans was pushed into his coat pocket – hanging onto a little velvet bag, just a little something that he'd gotten for her while on tour and had forgotten to give to her till just then.

Arabella stepped out of the house, her hand curled around the handle of the small luggage bag, hugging her mother one last time and giving her a peck on the cheek. Grace was biting on her bottom lip, containing her tears. Harry bit back a chuckle – Anne and Grace were literally the same. Anne could easily come down to London whenever to see him, and he came down often enough to see her, but she still got emotional whenever he left. When he left for tour... Now that was a different story.

Arabella let out a light laugh, giving her mum one more hug before finally pulling away and making her way towards her car; raising an eyebrow at the five-foot-eleven tall bloke just casually leaning against her car in the cold weather.

"Can I help you with something?" She asked as she got closer, walking to the boot of the car and popping it open.

Harry pushed himself off her car, going to help her lift the bag into the boot, leaving it open so that Daxton could put his bag into it, too. He grinned at her, "I've got something for you."

Arabella raised an eyebrow, "My birthday was a month ago, love."

Harry laughed, "Would you just let me give you something?"

Arabella chuckled, but she nodded. "What'd you get me?"

He grinned, pulling out the velvet bag and holding it out in front of her. "I found it in this little vintage shop thing, while we were on tour. Thought you'd like it." He smiled sheepishly, shrugging a bit. He knew that she'd liked it, because he knew her inside and out, but there was always a chance that she might hate it and think that he was being dumb by buying her something.

She pulled on the strings of the bag, pulling out the necklace. It was one of those long necklaces, the chain fashioned in a way that it looked old and rusty. The pendants were of a little aeroplane, and another of a little passport – with a tiny heart attached to the bottom corner of it. She smiled up at him, breathing a laugh. She liked travelling, and Harry knew that – thus the gift.

"Thank you," Arabella smile genuinely, still holding the necklace in her open palm.

He shrugged his shoulders, like it wasn't that big of a deal. "S'no problem," he grinned at the younger girl. "I didn't get to keep my promise, so does this make up for it?" He grinned cheekily and it made Arabella laugh.

When they were fourteen, they'd made a promise to go backpacking around Europe once they were done with school. That promise obviously fell through, seeing as how Harry got further than he ever expected whilst on The X Factor, and then going out on tour after that. Then when he finally thought things had slowed down and he could finally fulfil his promise to his best friend, they were off recording their album and then touring some more.

It didn't really matter, though, since Arabella had basically broken the promise, too – going backpacking with a bunch of her mates instead of just the two of them, like they'd planned.

"We still have to go on a road trip some day," she said thoughtfully, grinning at him.

"Yeah, definitely," he nodded along, reaching out to take the necklace from her palm. He stretched the chain, pulling it over her head and watched the pendant fall to dangle on her chest. Harry smiled, "Where shall this road trip bring us?"

"I dunno," she shrugged. "We could just do what we did last year. Remember? When we just got in a car and drove and drove and drove?" Both of them smiled fondly at the memory. "That was fun."

"It was," Harry nodded in agreement. "We'll do that. Maybe before tour starts back up."

"If my work load at school isn't that bad then I'm all for it."

"Awesome," he grinned, dimples making deep indentations on his cheeks. Then he frowned, peering over the top of the open boot door. "Where's your brother?"

Arabella frowned, shrugging. "I... Don't know," she blinked. "Daxton! I'm leaving without you if you don't get your ass here right now," she called, raising her voice a little bit so that it drifted into the house.

"I'm coming! Don't get your knickers in a twist," he grumbled from inside the house before he appeared at the doorway, pulling on a bag; giving Grace a hug and a kiss on her cheek before he was making his way to her car. "Hey Harry," Daxton greeted with a small smile.

"Alright, Dax?" Harry grinned, pulling him into a one-armed hug. "Heard your football career is flourishing."

Daxton shrugged his shoulders modestly, "I guess so," he chuckled. "What about you? Heard your career is – oh wait, never mind, Mr. I'm-a-fucking-world-famous-teen-heartthrob," he snorted, making the other two laugh as he heaved his bag into the boot of the car. "Come to a game some time, man," he said to Harry, a smile on his lips.

"Text me a game day and you can bet that I'll be there," Harry beamed, Daxton and Arabella chuckling lightly.

"I'll hold you to it, mate," Daxton nodded before he made his way into the passenger seat of his sister's car.

"I'll see you... Whenever." Arabella said simply, shutting the boot close before turning to Harry and wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

Harry wrapped his arms tighter around her, burying his nose in the crook of her neck as he did so – because that was just how he hugged people. Then he pulled away, nodding. "You're welcome to come by the flat anytime you want."

"I know," she nodded. "But some of us have school to attend and jobs to show up at."

"I have a job!" He protested as she made her way to the driver's seat, nodding her head in a patronising manner. "Hey! I do have a job!"

"I never said you didn't have a job!" She laughed, sliding into the seat. "I just, you know, implied that since you're not on tour, you're currently jobless."

"You're a dick."

"But you love me, anyway."

+

Harry sucked in a breath as he stared at his phone. He knew he was going to have to make the call sooner or later, and no matter how long he wanted to delay it, he knew that it was unfair to the girl. He didn't know what he was supposed to say. But then again, what was someone supposed to say when breaking up with a girl they'd been on five/six dates with? They weren't even properly together, but Harry had already met her family and he knew that she basically had the idea that they were an official couple in her head.

He gulped, dialling the number and seating himself at the edge of his bed, fingers tapping on the bed to the beat of a Hands Like Houses song that Arabella had shown him. "Hello?" came the American voice from the other end of the line. "Harry?"

"Kendall. Hi."

"Hey babe," she greeted so cheerfully that Harry actually cringed, knowing that Arabella was right when she said that the moment he cut the call, she'd probably have her mind set on defacing the posters of him available in any preteen/teen magazine. "What's up? How are you? You haven't called me in a few days. I was getting worried," she giggled.

"About that..." he trailed off. "I – I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"... What?"

"I just, I mean, you're a nice girl but – "

"But it's not working out? I deserve someone better?" Kendall spat from the other end of the line, making him cringe again. "Fuck, Harry. I thought you were different. The magazines were all right about you being a player, then." She scoffed.

Harry blew out a silent sigh, "I'm not a player, that I can promise you. I didn't cheat on you, and also: we were never really properly together. It was just a bunch of casual dates, and – "

"Oh, save it." Kendall sneered.

"It's not you, I promise. It's me – "

"Wow," she deadpanned, interrupting him. The next thing Harry knew, the line was dead, her having hung up on him.

Harry let out a groan, setting his phone aside as he moved so that he was on his back on the bed. A large hand went up to his face, covering it before he dragged his hand down his features. The line was a bad move, but at least he'd gotten the whole awkward breaking up thing over and done with. But at the same time, he couldn't help but think; was it always going to be like that?

Would he just spend the rest of his life going on casual dates with girls, only to find out that they just didn't click together? Would he never be able to settle down?

He'd been on so many dates before, but contrary to popular belief: he'd only ever actually slept with less than five people in his nineteen, almost twenty, years of being alive. The dates that he went on were literally just that. Dates. Two people going out for a meal, or a walk. Spending time together. Maybe sharing a little kiss here and there.

But they all seemed to end terribly. The only "relationship" – if you could even call it that – that didn't end terribly was the one with Cara Delevinge, the model. And that was only because she had the exact intentions he had – to just go out on casual dates till they realised they were right/not right for each other.

There was also a contributing factor that she'd been confused with her sexuality for a while, and effectively turned to Harry for a friend to talk to, which led him to realise that they were really better off as friends. And that the hot ones were always the gay ones.

Harry glanced at the clock on his bedside table, calculating the time from when Arabella and Daxton had left. If he was right, then she'd have dropped Daxton off already, so it would only be her in the car, and since he didn't particularly want his best friend dying in a car accident because of how she couldn't stay awake, he decided to give her a ring; knowing that the call would go to immediate speakerphone mode.

"Hello?"

"You were right," he sighed in defeat the moment she picked up.

Arabella laughed unsurely, "Sorry?"

"The 'it's not you, it's me' line. I used it. She got mad."

Arabella laughed whole-heartedly now and Harry could just imagine her shaking her head in amusement. "I already told you that, but no, I'm Harry Styles so I'm not going to listen to this girl," she mocked in a deep falsetto, making him snicker. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he nodded, though she couldn't see him. "I never developed proper feelings for her, so I'm good. Kendall, on the other hand... Yeah, I reckon she's defacing my posters right now."

"Told you so," she sing-songed, making him chuckle lightly at her smugness.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry mumbled, before he sighed tiredly. He wasn't tired – sleepy-tired. He was just... Tired.

"You alright?"

Harry swallowed a little, rolling onto his side as he let his head rest on his pillow – eyes staring blankly at the photo on his bedside table. "Do you think I'll ever settle down? Like, get married and have kids and stuff."

"Of course," was her immediate response. "What makes you think you won't?"

"Just... I dunno. I haven't had a proper girlfriend since... Forever. I've never had a proper girlfriend, one that lasted more than six months. And my mates are off celebrating their two years together, getting fuckin' engaged, and I'm just... Here. Left behind. Alone."

"Harry..." Arabella sighed softly. "You're barely twenty. You're still young, and you're in a world famous band that tours around practically all year round. Getting a girlfriend is hard enough, but getting one while you're basically never home would be even harder. There's a girl out there for you, and only you, so quit your worrying."

"If I don't find her, then what?" He laughed lightly. "Will you marry me if we're both, like, not settled down by the time we're... Thirty?"

"Thirty?"

"Yeah. Thirty," Harry nodded. "Not too old, not too young."

Arabella laughed lightly, "Then it's a deal. If we're not married by the time we're thirty, I'm marrying my best friend."

"Awesome," Harry cheered with a little laugh, Arabella following suit. "How's your drive? Feeling lonely yet?" He teased, and just like that, their conversation about him being afraid that he'd end up dying alone was pushed aside, and they were back to their playful banter.

Harry's eyes never lingered away from the photo, though. It was one of himself and Arabella – the former in a little tux while the latter was in a pretty white dress. It was taken in the garden of where someone had just gotten married at. Little Harry and little Arabella looked like miniature versions of the bride and groom that day, making everyone coo over them.

Then little Harry, upon witnessing the groom slide the ring onto his bride's finger, decided to get a piece of ribbon and tie it, so that it formed a ring of sorts. He went up to Arabella, grinning widely. "Let's marry, too!" he had exclaimed loudly, earning amused laughs from the adults who'd heard him.

"Okay!" she had enthusiastically responded, taking the ribbon-ring from him, and then attempting to slide it onto her finger as Harry slid the one he made for himself onto his own finger.

"Maybe one day we'll be like mummy and daddy and we'll marry with the shiny rings, too."

Harry felt his lips curl up into a grin. Because if he really didn't settle down by the time he was thirty, and she was still single – which would be hard to believe if it really did happen – then he would really get married to his best friend. He was being serious, and he knew that she knew that, too. Because at the end of the day, when there was no one else there for him at his downfall, Arabella stood strong.

And if his wife wasn't as amazing as that, then he find himself questioning why he ever got married to her in the first place.