Unbreakable

Arabella's phone buzzed for what seemed like the twentieth time in the past fifteen minutes, making the tattooed young woman with the jet-black hair cut into a long bob, blunt fringe laying across forehead groan as the ginger – a.k.a. Arabella Sykes – moved her arm to instinctively reach for her mobile.

"Don't," Hannah groaned, before realising her attempts to stop the younger from getting the phone were futile, so she just let her forehead drop onto her stomach, making Arabella laugh.

"He's going to get annoyed at me if I don't text back," Arabella said simply, because she knew it was true.

One would assume that because he's Harry Styles, he wouldn't mind if someone didn't reply to his texts till a few hours later, because that's what he does almost all the time thanks to his busy schedule. One would one-third correct on that statement – since it applied to everyone except for Arabella. The only time she could get away with not replying to his stupid jokes or meaningless texts was when he was playing a show and couldn't send multiple text messages at one time – effectively turning her phone into a temporary vibrator.

("You know you secretly like it, you horny bastard." "Maybe if you'd quit texting me then I could actually invest in a proper vibrator or something." "JESUS CHRIST I DID NOT NEED TO KNOW THAT LORD FORGIVE THIS CHILD FOR SHE HAS SINNED")

"He?" Hannah picked her head up, as though only processing what Arabella had said just then. She wiggled her eyebrows at the younger, big eyes fluttering over in her direction, "Who's the bloke? Is he fit? Treat you well? Need me to slap him because he's being a possessive twat?"

Arabella laughed, shaking her head in amusement as she set her phone down, finally telling Harry to piss off because Hannah's getting annoyed. Hannah was really excited to start the piece that Arabella had drawn out and with the smallest of modifications to it, she was fully prepared to spend the next couple of hours (or less, maybe) tattooing it onto Arabella's forearm. Only, because of Harry's text and Arabella's automatic reaction to get the phone to check and reply to the text, she never got to even properly start it.

"Okay, firstly; he's my best mate. He's fit, yeah, I'm not even going to deny that. He's one of the best humans I know. And lastly... I reckon Oli's got a better chance at beating him up than you do. Maybe not even. He's a pretty skinny bloke, yeah?"

"Who? Your mate?"

"Your fiancé."

Hannah's face broke out into a soft, fond smile then. "God, I'll never get used to that. Still can't believe he proposed," she sighed dreamily and Arabella said nothing, only smiling at her mate as she spoke of her fiancé. "Was proper surprised, too. I didn't expect that 'appening anytime soon."

"But it did," Arabella smiled. "And you're happy, yeah?"

"Happier than I've ever been," Hannah grinned truthfully. "He just... He's amazing."

"I hope you're talking about meh," a male voice spoke up, walking into the little studio that was still technically closed to the public. The heavily tattooed male came into their line of sight then, a grin on his handsome face, dressed in clothes from his own clothing line, because he fucking could. "You alright, love?"

Arabella grinned back at the elder gentlemen, nodding, "Yeah, I'm alright. You?"

"I'm great," his grin stayed in place as he moved towards the two, leaning down to place a deep kiss on Hannah's cheek. "What's going on 'ere?"

"We're sky diving, what does it look like?" Hannah drawled out sarcastically, rolling her eyes playfully as she moved back into her previous position in which she was slightly hunched over as she continued to ink Arabella's forearm. Oli scoffed and Arabella breathed a chuckle. "Babe d'you know that Ara's got a boyfriend?"

"Why would I even know that?" Oli laughed, shaking his head the slightest bit. He turned to Arabella afterwards, though, "He treat you well?"

Arabella groaned, shutting her eyes in frustration before she popped them back open. "I don't 'ave a boyfriend."

"Then why's Hannah sayin' you do?"

"Because she's insane, that's why," Arabella shot back, making the engaged couple laugh. "He's just my mate. Honestly."

"Are you sure about that?" Hannah teased, looking up from where she was concentrating on inking Arabella's skin to shoot a smirk over in her direction.

Oli chortled, shaking his head once more. "Leave 'er alone, yeah?" He waited for the brief moment that Hannah lifted the tattooing gun off of Arabella's skin to poke her in the side, effectively making her jump. Hannah turned and shot Oli and flat look, only to get a grin in response.

"What are you even doing 'ere?" Arabella asked the elder.

He shrugged, "Hannah said something about you popping by. Wanted to see what you're getting. Might've also been hoping that you'd let me tattoo something on you," he grinned.

Arabella rolled her eyes, the beginnings of a smile playing on her lips. "Mate. Her – " she pointed to Hannah. "– I trust to doodle and do whatever she'd like, if I wanted a tatt but didn't know what to get. You? Not so much. I reckon you'd tattoo Sonic on me. Don't really fancy that being permanently inked on my skin."

"Sonic's sick, though."

"Can't argue with that."

"So who's the mate that Hannah's assuming is your boyfriend?"

"My best mate."

"He 'ave a name?" Oli asked, raising a brow. Hannah looked up, too, mimicking his actions. She didn't know his name, either.

"Yeah."

"Well?" Hannah egged on, blinking her large eyes at the younger.

"Harry."

"Pottah?" Oli grinned, and the other two chuckled.

Arabella shrugged her shoulders as best she could with Hannah still working on the tattoo on her forearm, "Sure. Makes him so much cooler than he actually is."

"Nah, love, if he's mates with you then he's obviously not cool at all," Hannah teased and Arabella gasped over dramatically.

"You're both mates with me," she raised a brow.

Hannah blinked, as did Oli. "She has a point," Oli relented, making Arabella let out a sound of victory as she laughed lightly. "He's in school with you, yeah? I approve," he nodded without even waiting for Arabella to answer his question, making her chuckle again.

"Mate I don't even need your approval because one: we're not together, two: he's my best mate, and three: why the fuck would I need your approval?" She sassed, laughing along with the couple afterwards. "He's not in school with me, by the way. We've known each other since we were little."

"Aw," Hannah cooed, without even looking up. "Childhood romances. Adorable."

"Sod off," Arabella chortled.

"Oi, it could 'appen," Hannah protested, darting her eyes up to look at the ginger with a grin in place before she's focusing back on her forearm. "You never know."

+

"Harold," Arabella groaned in exasperation as the aforementioned male pulled a face when he accidentally hit the bag of flour that was sitting peacefully on the counter, onto the floor.

Harry turned to look at her, wide-eyed. He pulled a sheepish half grin, "Oops?"

"Oops, my arse," she huffed, bringing a hand to rub at her forehead. "You're cleaning that shit up."

"Oi!"

"No protests! You're the one who hit the bag!"

"S'because you put it at the edge!" He protested, bordering on a laugh.

Arabella gaped at him, "It was in the middle! Like, literally in the middle of the counter. You can't even blame the bag because even the bag isn't at fault!"

Harry scoffed, bending down to use his hands to brush the flour on the ground to the side. He'd clean it up properly once they were done. "You say it like I blame inanimate objects all the time."

"You do," she blinked at him, tone flat.

He frowned, straightening his back out. "Do not."

"Mate," the younger blinked again at him again. "You walked into the sofa that's been there ever since I've moved in. You know where it was. You've always known. But you still walked into it, and then you yelled at it."

Harry let out an indignant breath, "That was, like, ages ago."

"It was last week!" Arabella shot back, before finally giving into the laughter that she'd been trying to bite down. Harry couldn't help himself, laughing along with her the moment that she started. "Oh God we're never going to get this done."

"Why are you even baking a cake? You could just get those pre-made ones, you know. Birthday cakes aren't that hard to find," Harry pointed out with a raised eyebrow, as though Arabella didn't already fucking know that.

She rolled her eyes, "Because I want to. Do you 'ave a problem with that, love?"

"You've never baked one for my birthday," Harry pouted his bottom lip over at her, making her roll her eyes again. Seemed to be something she did a lot when she was with the curly-haired lad.

"I reckon it's because you're off going to strip clubs and stuff for your birthday. Don't need a cake from lil ole insignificant me," the younger batted her eyelashes at him, also pouting her bottom lip the slightest bit.

"Insignificant," Harry repeated with a scoff. "What planet are you on?"

"Earth. Why? What planet are you on?"

"Can't be right," he shook his head. "Because I'm on Earth, too, and I'm pretty damn sure that you're one of the most important things in my life."

"I got promoted and simultaneously demoted in one sentence."

Harry blinked, "Huh?"

"Promoted because 'most important,'– " she quoted, "– then demoted because I became a thing."

Harry threw his head back, laughing as he tried to protest, "You know what I meant!"

"That I'm a thing? Yeah, okay, I get it. You only use me for convenience," Arabella sniffled, though she was messing with her lip ring as she spoke, clearly trying to stop herself from laughing along with her best mate.

The elder huffed a final laugh, lunging forward to bring his arms around her waist. His flour-covered hands, at that. Arabella squealed at his sudden movement but she didn't get to run far before he was making white handprints on her dark coloured top as he pulled her body close to his own. She tried to pull herself away from him, using her hands to push at his chest but he was clearly stronger and he'd also been working out more, so that meant that her attempts were all fruitless and only made him laugh.

After a few more weak attempts to shove him off, she groaned, letting her forehead drop onto his collarbone and he leaned down, kissing her hair with a laugh. "Admit defeat," he said into her ear.

"I'm waving the white flag," she groaned and Harry finally let her out of his hold, throwing his hands up in the air before taking a bow to his non-existent crowd of supporters.

Then he grinned back at her, his eyes going sombre for a moment, "No, but seriously..."

"Hmm?" She hummed, raising a brow as she turned back to continue making the cake batter.

"You know you're not, in any way, insignificant, right? Like, to me or to anyone else? You're literally my whole world, Ara," Harry said with such sincerity in his tone that Arabella turned to look at him, the plastic bowl in hand as she mindlessly stirred the batter. "You're my best friend in the whole entire world, and even when we don't talk because I'm on tour or you're busy with school, I always miss you. I'm always thinking about you." He blinked at her, his voice almost growing stern as much as it started to strain, as though it pained him to even think about Arabella thinking so lowly of herself that she thought she didn't even matter to him.

"Don't, for a second, think that I don't need you. I'll always need you," he brought a hand, still covered in flour, up to cup her cheek – thumb rubbing the smallest of circles against her smooth skin.

Arabella kept her eyes locked onto his, a small smile coming onto her lips. It was a small smile and a minuscule nod, but Harry knew what it meant. There was that sparkle in her eyes – silently telling him that she understood that, and that she needed him as much as he, her, but she'd never say that. It wasn't because of her pride or anything. It was just that she... Couldn't. She was scared, if she ever admitted to that out loud, that he'd leave. And he knew that. He also knew how untrue it was because he would never leave her, but that was just who Arabella was and he accepted it. As long as he knew the meaning behind her little smiles or that little glint in her bright eyes, he was content with her not returning his sappy words.

So Harry smirked then, placing his other hand on her other cheek and effectively making her groan. He pulled his hands away, a brilliant grin adorning his handsome features. "Nice look you got going on there, babe. I reckon you should be a model, get that catching on," he beamed, gesturing to how she had two white handprints on her cheeks because of the bits of flour still on his hands.

"Yeah? You think so?" She put the bowl down slowly, eyeing him with a smirk.

"Oh, absolutely."

"Be my first follower," Arabella smirked devilishly and Harry's eyes widened as he started backing away, shaking his head. "Come on, Hazza! It'll catch on, promise! You can rock the look!"

"I'm good, thanks," Harry laughed, still shaking his head as he continued to take a step back for every step forward she took. She narrowed her eyes then and Harry's widened in response before he was darting out of the kitchen, laughing even harder as he tried to get away from the girl who was trying to coat his face in flour – because that was completely normal.

"Nuh uh, you're not getting away that easily. Get back here, you dick!" Arabella yelled after him, also laughing joyfully, eventually pouncing onto his back and making him tumble onto the ground (the carpeted area, thankfully, though it's not like he's not used to falling since he falls at practically every show he does) with the girl landing on him.

Instead of smearing the flour on his face, she ran her hands through his hair; making him whine and groan and make so many different sounds at the same time as he tried to gently push her off of his back. She only laughed and he gave up with another whine coming from his throat, crossing his arms in front of him and burying his face in them.

"Hey," she mumbled into his ear. He only hummed in response, not bothering to look up because he presumed she was going to gloat. "I'm half a heart without you." And then there was the feel of her lips against his temple before she was getting off of him. Harry's lips broke out into a grin as he slowly sat up, watching as she walked back into the kitchen. As cheesy as it was that she quoted his song, she indirectly admitted to needing him. That's the most that he'd ever gotten and though other people might not be content, he was very much so. Because if there was any song that could describe how he felt whilst he was on tour, it would be that.

He was half a heart without Arabella. And he always would be, lest they were together. And honestly? He was completely fine with that.