Take It or Leave It

“Harry…”

His laptop slammed shut and so did his eyes. He was shutting down.

“H,” I tried softly and took two more little steps towards the mattress. He looked so small and fragile.

“‘S fine, ‘m fine,” he shook his head and cleared his throat, “H-homesick.”

It was a boldfaced lie and we both knew it. I wasn’t sure what he was trying to do, if he was trying to protect me or him or both of us and that scared me.

“I saw it,” I kicked off my shoes, “Please don’t lie to me.”

I thought maybe honesty was the best policy in this situation. He needed someone. As much as I didn’t want him to know I’d seen it in the tabloids already, he needed someone.

He didn’t respond, just wiped his cheeks before his eyes flew open. I could see now that they were filled with pure panic. The kind that comes when you break a bone or hit a dog with your car. But this was so much bigger. This was his whole life, his whole career, everything he’d ever worked for, crashing down around him. And there wasn’t a damn thing someone like me could do to really fix it.

“Y-you believe it?” his voice cracked at the accusation and so did my heart.

“Harry,” I moved his laptop off of his lap and crawled closer, throwing one leg over each side of him and taking his face in my hands. Instinct was kicking in.

“Y-you do, don’t you?” he wasn’t looking at me, doing everything he could not to. I couldn’t imagine how terrifying it had to be in his head right then. To feel so completely alone while watching everything fall to pieces and shatter around you.

“Harry,” I whispered more firmly even though my voice shook, “I need you to look at me. I’m going to ask you one question and I need one honest answer a-and then I will do whatever you need to calm down. Okay?”

“Y-you. I-I can’t-,” he huffed before shutting his eyes and whimpering, “O-okay.”

“No you hafta look at me,” my own eyes were stinging as he did as I asked, “Do you or have you ever had any addiction problems?”

His eyes got huge and I could see the confusion in them. That wasn’t what he was expecting and he wanted to argue, wanted to be hurt, but he knew I wouldn’t let him. Not until I got an answer.

“Wha-? No. God, no, A. What do you-”

“Then I believe you,” I let go of his face because that was all I’d needed to properly comfort him. To set the one little worry to rest. I hadn’t missed any warning signs or not paid enough attention to detail.

“W-why?” his voice finally gave into a heart wrenching sob, “W-why do you believe me?”

“Because you just told me,” I mumbled and wrapped my arms around him, pulling as much of him against me as I could before wrapping my legs around his waist because none of it felt like enough. He was crumbling right in front of me.

“B-but you saw the h-headlines,” he was gasping for air.

“I don’t give a shit about the headlines, H,” I whispered, “I give a shit about you.”

He let out another sob at that.

“‘S alright,” I whispered even though my voice cracked, “‘S gonna be alright, H. No one believes that bullshit. Especially not people that love you so much.”

I wasn’t sure how long we sat like that, him falling apart against me and me wrapped around him trying to put him back together. It felt like ages. Years before he was just shaking and sniffling, no longer sobbing and struggling to breathe.

Eventually we found ourselves laying down again facing each other, blankets pulled up over our heads and legs tangled together. Harry’s eyes were shut but his breathing had evened out a bit and his grip on one of my hands had loosened.

“M-my mum believes it,” his voice was hoarse, a combination of crying so hard and not speaking for so long.

“You talked to your mom?” I asked softly, a bit taken aback. They hadn’t spoken in weeks.

“She rang me six times this morning,” he whispered, “Thinks I’ve lost it to heroin.”

“Mm,” I hummed and moved to straighten out the crease between his eyebrows with my index finger, “I think you’re more of a coke guy, personally.”

One eye peeked open and the smallest hint of a sad smile appeared on his lips, “I have got a terrible fear of needles.”

I matched his smile and ran my finger down the length of his nose before tracing the bags under his eyes, glancing up at him cautiously, “Did you like actually talk to her?”

“Fuck no,” he let out a quiet scoff, “She yelled for a bit and wouldn’t let me speak and told me she didn’t want to hear from me until I got my shit together. And then hung up on me.”

“Tha’s bullshit,” I whispered and brought my finger along his jawline, “Fucking bullshit.”

“I get it,” he answered rawly, “Sh-she can’t lose anyone else, you know?”

I swallowed harshly because I knew exactly what he was talking about, “Doesn’t mean she can push you away like that.”

“She can’t help it,” he shut his eyes as my finger ran along his warm skin, “It fucked her up just as bad as it did me.”

“Th-that doesn’t make it fair, H,” I answered calmly.

“I-I don’t-” he started but he was interrupted by a ringing that made us both jump, “Shit.”

His eyes popped open and the blanket was tossed off of our heads as he scrambled to find his phone. And when he did, his eyes got even bigger. He was scared.

“H-hello?” he answered it with shaky hands. I took that as my cue.

I straightened my hair a bit and pushed myself to sit up, glancing over at him. He was wincing and biting at his nails already.

I reached over and pulled his hand away from his mouth before mumbling, “‘M gonna go heat up your tea.”

He looked up at me frantically, hand wrapping around my wrist before mouthing, “Stay?”

He didn’t have to ask twice.

Over the course of twenty minutes he’d ended up curled up in my lap, my fingers running through his hair. He hadn’t said much at all the entire time since he’d picked up the phone. Just the occasional agreeing or disagreeing noise. His eyes had stayed shut and his hand that wasn’t holding his phone to his ear was near his mouth, nails being bitten at.

I couldn’t decipher what the person on the other line was saying, mainly because Harry had had to turn the volume down to the lowest setting when he picked up. All I could make out was that it was a woman and her voice was loud and angry. It was selfish, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what was making him shake like he was under my hands.

“Fuck.”

It was loud and unexpected and made me jump underneath him, looking up from his hair just in time to see him tossing his phone across the carpet.

“Hey, hey,” I tried to soothe, pulling his hands away from rubbing his eyes in frustration, “You’re alright.”

“‘M not,” he rolled onto his back, keeping his head in my lap, “I’m fucked.”

I swallowed harshly. This was crossing a silent boundary we’d never actually set. We didn’t talk about his job, any aspect of it, in depth. Ever.

“Why’s that?” I kept running my fingers through his disheveled curls, more to keep myself calm at that point.

His eyes were bloodshot and tired as he looked up at me and answered weakly, “Hafta go take a drug test.”

I could feel my jaw drop a bit as I scrambled to find an appropriate response without pushing the invisible boundary too far, “A-a drug test?”

I could feel an angry heat running through my veins. I had no idea how PR things worked but I didn’t like how it was being handled. That he hadn’t gotten more than a few words into that conversation and they’d already decided he was going to take a drug test. They didn’t care whether he was sober or not, they cared about cleaning up the mess.

He nodded slowly and brought his thumbnail back to his teeth, “I’ve got twenty four hours.”

“R-right,” I managed, head spinning with questions I wasn’t sure I was allowed to ask, “W-when are you gonna go?”

“Now,” he wasn’t looking at me anymore, “Wanna get it over with.”

I nodded, trying to keep so many things from slipping past my lips, “Y-you should eat first.”

“Tha’s all you’ve got to say?” Harry let out a sort of half laugh. My skin was prickling.

I managed a shrug reminding myself it wasn’t my place to state my opinion. I was his friend or maybe something more and all I could do was support him.

“You haven’t eaten yet.”

He knit his eyebrows at me, “You’re allowed to ask questions. I can tell you’re pissed.”

My heart skipped a bit, not in the best way, “I-I’m not pissed.”

“You are,” he shot me a look, “Your jaw’s pushed out a bit and you’ve got that tiny crease between your eyebrows,” his thumb came up to straighten it out.

Heat rushed through my cheeks and chest but not the angry kind anymore.

“‘M fine,” I shook my head because I was okay, he wasn’t, “‘M worried is all.”

I wasn’t going to ask questions. They weren’t mine to ask. If Harry wanted to talk about it I was there but the way we’d never discussed his job before made me feel like I was overstepping a boundary just sitting with him while he was on the phone. And something deep down in me knew that wasn’t okay. We were best friends. Or something more. I shouldn’t have felt like I did.

He shook his head and looked away from me, out towards the big window, “Wanna run away.”

I swallowed harshly, “Where to?”

I wasn’t sure where someone who could go anywhere they pleased would run to.

“Anywhere,” he shrugged easily, “Somewhere small. With you.”

I knew my stomach shouldn’t have swooped the way it did.

I wanted to tell him I’d go with him, anywhere he wanted for as long as he wanted, because god knew that was the truth. But it wasn’t realistically possible. I had school and work and he had issues at hand that couldn’t be run away from. But what I did have was a long weekend free of classes and shifts and a burning desire to fix the broken look in his eyes.

“My weekend’s free,” I shrugged like it was that simple. Like we could just pack a bag and take a plane to wherever we liked. Maybe it was like that for him, but not for me.

He got a sad sort of smile on his face, “So’s mine. Probably the rest of my career as well.”

I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say to that because I didn’t know what was going on. I didn’t know what had been said during that phone call and I didn’t know how his management was going to handle it. Mostly I was completely clueless when it came to Harry’s job. It made me anxious if I thought about it for too long.

“Don’t talk like that,” I shook my head. Even though I didn’t know what was going on or what was going to happen, I didn’t like the self deprecating tone in his voice.

He didn’t respond at first, just rolled back onto his side and buried his face in my stomach, arms wrapping around my waist before a muffled, “Today was supposed to be good. Was supposed to be so good.”

My cheeks turned pink again but I kept my focus on twisting loose curls around my fingers as I asked softly, “What do you mean?”

“Nevermind,” he sighed into the striped material of my shirt. His shirt.

“No, you hafta tell me now,” I mumbled quietly.

He shrugged, “‘S my first real day of break. Wanted to take you out or something nice.”

“T-take me out?” I stuttered, face only feeling hotter.

He nodded slowly, “Doesn’t matter now,” and before I could push it any further he pulled his head out of the soft material covering my stomach and looked up at me with sad sort of smile on his face, “This is my shirt.”

I hadn’t thought my face could get any redder, “Y-yeah, s-sorry I was in a rush this morning. W-woke up late and-”

And all of a sudden he was sat up and sort of grinning and pressing his lips to mine. And for some reason it all felt so different. We weren’t drunk or on our way to it. He wasn’t leaving in a few days. It wasn’t leading to anything more. It was a kiss, plain and simple. And it made my stomach flip more than anything else we’d ever done before it.

“Looks nicer on you,” he mumbled against my lips before pulling away to study my expression.

“Don’t get sappy on me, Styles,” I managed in a whisper and left one more little kiss on his lips, trying to ignore the familiar feeling running through me, “Come have breakfast. Picked you up a real New York City breakfast.”

He study me for half a second more before nodding, “W-would you come with me?”

My head was too fuzzy for a proper response, filled with kisses and butterflies in my stomach and dreams of running away, “T-to where?”

He licked his lips nervously, “For my drug test.”

My eyes got huge, not for the reason he was probably assuming (that I would be freaked out by the entire situation), but because I wasn’t expecting it. Wasn’t expecting him to involve me in anything work related at all. Especially not something so big.

“M-me?” I felt like I had to give him time to take it back.

“Y-you don’t have to,” he shook his head quickly, he was back tracking but he wasn’t taking it back exactly, “I-I just. ‘M nervous. Didn’t really wanna go alone, b-but I’d be okay if you didn’t wanna-”

“Y-yeah,” I cut him off with a shake of my head, “God, yeah I’ll go with you. Y-you shouldn’t have to go alone.”

“Y-you don’t mind?” his bottom lip was caught between his pointer finger and his thumb nervously.

“Of course I don’t mind,” I shook my head, not willing to tell him I’d sort of wanted to offer to go with him in the first place, “I wanna go.”

*

They hadn’t let me go in with him while he took the test. I understood, Harry didn’t. His face had dropped and his muscles had tensed and I knew he wanted to put up a fight, but he didn’t.

I’d tried to keep myself busy at first, pulled out the book I was supposed to be reading for class and everything, but I couldn’t keep my mind from racing or my knee from bouncing or the panic from bubbling up in my chest. I knew Harry was sober, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind, that wasn’t why I was anxious. I was anxious because he was anxious. Because I didn’t know how to fix it because I didn’t know a fraction of what was going on.

It felt like centuries before the door he’d disappeared behind opened timidly. My head snapped up because I knew it had to be him, I’d been the only one in the waiting room the entire time. (I wasn’t sure if that was a coincidence or his management pulling a few strings.)

He had one of those unreadable smiles plastered on his face that I’d only seen a few times before. He thanked the tired looking women who I assumed was his attendant and then his eyes landed on me. The forced little smile melted into a sad but genuine one. It unknotted my stomach just a bit.

“Hi, trooper,” I gave him a reassuring little smile as I shoved my neglected paperback into my bag and stood up.

“Hi,” his voice was tired as he took a few timid steps, closing the gap between us.

The crease in between his eyebrows was more prominent since he’d gone for his test, along with the tiredness in his eyes. I wanted to just wrap my arms around him and pull him into me, promise him that the worst of it was over. He’d swallowed his pride and stuck it out and god, was I proud of him because fuck knew I would’ve never handled the situation so well.

I could feel my arms beginning to reach for him before they dropped limply to my sides. For the first time since whatever we were had begun, I wasn’t sure I was allowed to wrap my arms around him and just hold him.

I wasn’t stupid. He was H but he was still Harry Styles too and I wasn’t certain even the middle aged, male, secretary wouldn’t snap a few sneaky shots of his kid’s favorite boy band member. And worst of all, I wasn’t even sure if Harry wanted me to hold him somewhere like this. We were still so undefined. More than friends but less than together.

“L-let’s get out of here,” I managed weakly, avoiding his eyes because I didn’t want to see if he’d caught what I’d been about to do.

He managed a tight nod, but I was already reaching for the door to the long hallway we’d barely navigated on our own just a little while before.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind us and we were alone in the deserted hallway, I realized he wasn’t following me, just as I heard a quiet, “A-A.”

I spun around on my heel, the thoughts about whether or not I was allowed to hug him immediately vanishing, replaced with concern, “Hm?”

Even with a few strides between us, I could see the tears welling up in his eyes. He was collapsing again and circumstances be damned, I was going to hold him when everything gave out underneath him.

I wasn’t sure who closed the gap between us that time, maybe both of us, because all I could focus on was pulling his shaking body into mine. I was almost certain he was all cried out, maybe a few tears would escape but this was mostly the aftermath of such built up anxiety. I knew exactly how it felt.

“It’s over,” I tried to reassure him, “It’s all over now. We can go back to my apartment and stay in bed for as long as you like. Ignore the whole world, I swear, H.”

He nodded a little into the crook of my arm, fists clenching in my (his) shirt as he tried to keep himself together the best he could. I felt like my heart was splitting down the middle.

“They’re gonna release it,” I almost couldn’t hear him. All of a sudden it felt like the hallway was spinning.

“R-release what?” I was buying time, trying to figure out how to handle Harry talking about it. Work in general. It was new and scary.

“Results,” he took in a deep breath and let it out shakily into my skin, “Tonight. When the hiatus announcement comes out.”

“L-let’s get home first and then we can talk about it, alright?” I found one of my hands running up and down his tense back. I wasn't even sure how his management could get his results back that quickly, but I didn't doubt their power.

“H-home?”

I hadn’t even realized it had slipped out was the thing. It was fucking natural.

“M-my place,” I backtracked, “S-sorry.”

He pulled away with the slightest hint of a smile on his lips, despite the few tears that had spilled over onto his cheeks, and nodded “Home.”

My stomach did somersaults.

“C’mon then,” I gave him a nervous but reassuring smile, “Let’s go home.”

And I wasn’t expecting his hand to slip in mine almost timidly, but it did. I just gave it a reassuring squeeze.

We found our way back to the back entrance we’d come through earlier and got into the same big, black car with the same tinted windows and quiet driver. Harry was silent the entire way, staring out the window but not letting go of my hand once.

By the time I pushed my front door open, Harry was yawning. By the time we’d kicked our shoes off and greeted Pickles, his eyes were half lidded. He was completely drained.

He didn’t put up a fight when I ushered him back to bed, tucking him in and everything, and promised I’d wake him up in a little while for dinner. We could talk about whatever was going to happen tonight then.

But I didn’t need to wake him up because almost two hours into his nap, just as I was pulling a container of frozen mac and cheese out of the oven (I thought maybe he needed my go to comfort food more than I did) he was shooting straight up on my mattress.

“Shit,” I nearly dropped the food to the ground but managed to set it on the stove, not bothering to take off my oven mitt.

Pickles had jumped up from where he was curled up next to Harry, disgruntled and no longer purring. When I reached Harry, I could see the deep breaths he was trying to take in and the way he was shaking his head and I already knew what had happened.

“Hey,” I mumbled softly from the doorway, “H.”

He jumped a bit and turned his head to look at me with wide, eyes, “‘M fine. ‘M fine. Wasn’t th-that bad. ‘M fine.”

“O-okay,” I took a little step forward and slipped off the oven mitt, “D-do you need anything?”

I didn’t want to push him. I knew what it was like to have a not so bad panic attack but have someone suffocate you into a much larger one.

“A-air,” he breathed out, still shaking his head and then rubbing his eyes.

I was already going for the big window facing the city.

My chest hurt. It wasn’t fucking fair. His day had been traumatic and anxiety ridden enough. He didn’t deserve to have a nightmare wake him up from his only escape from it all.

By the time I’d shoved the window open as far as it would go, Harry was pushing himself up to sit on the windowsill. My heart felt funny. It was all so natural.

“That alright?” I asked carefully. His eyes were shut and his head was back against the window while his hands clenched the edge of the windowsill.

He nodded, “S-sit?”

I wasn’t expecting him to ask at all, let alone so timidly, but I nodded quickly despite his eyes staying shut, “Y-yeah, of course.”

It wasn’t as bad as the first time he’d had a bad dream around me. He didn’t shake as much or start to sob. He didn’t need to be held together. He gripped my hand and breathed through it. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been and that made my breathing a bit easier.

“S-sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly when he finally opened his eyes and turned to look at me.

I knit my eyebrows at him, the glow of the setting sun streaming through the window caught the green in his eyes and made him look younger, “For what?”

He rolled his eyes and let out a shaky breath, a wonderful improvement compared to the first time, “That. Th-thank you, I-I’m sorry I didn’t-”

“No,” I shook my head as I cut him off, “No apologies. My windowsill, my rules.”

His lips parted like he was going to argue before they twisted up into a tiny smile.

*

After two heaping bowls of mac and cheese and the end credits of Dumbo (because really there was nothing a Disney movie couldn’t fix), we found ourselves stretched out on my mattress. I was on my laptop procrastinating schoolwork and Harry was scrolling through something on his phone with his head on my legs. Pickles was curled up on his stomach.

I was scrolling through my inbox on Tumblr, actively ignoring the reading I was supposed to be getting ahead on for the coming week, when something caught my attention.

anonymous asked:
is there something weird going on between you and h?? are you guys okay??

My stomach twisted uncomfortably. I’d also been actively ignoring questions about Harry and I on my blog. He and I hadn’t discussed telling anyone anything, that we’d met or that we liked to take pictures of each other that we never posted or that he’d weaseled his way into becoming a favorite topic of mine in my poetry.

I’d told myself it was because we didn’t even know what we were but a very big part of me knew it was much bigger than that. He wasn’t just H. He was Harry Styles and, as shitty as it was, everything that came with that. I didn’t know if I was allowed to even post a picture of his boots on my living room floor without the CIA knocking on my door.

So I kept scrolling. And it wouldn’t have been fine if there weren’t more questions almost exactly like that.

“H?”

I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to ask a question that could crumble whatever fragile sense of good we had between us. I didn’t want it to be a big deal, to fuck anything up. I just wanted to know what he wanted, even if we still didn’t really have any idea what we were doing or what we were. Even if both of those required a loaded question we were both too afraid to ask.

“Hm?” he hummed distractedly, one hand rubbing Pickles’ ear as he purred and the other still holding his phone too close to his face.

“I, um. This is a really dumb question,” I mumbled, shutting my eyes as I felt my cheeks turn pink and my heart speed up uncomfortably.

“There’s no such thing as a dumb question,” I heard him lock his phone and set it down, Neon Bible still drifting from it softly, “Especially not from you.”

The last bit didn’t help the heat in my face.

“I just. People are like. I-I mean ‘s not a big deal I-I just-”

“A,” Harry was propping himself up on an elbow all of a sudden, “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing!” I answered quickly and my eyes flew open, that was the last thing I wanted him to think, “I-I just. It’s not a big deal, I just. People think something’s up? A-and I dunno what to say and i-it doesn’t even matter-”

“Alivia,” he cut me off, eyebrows knit at me and big eyes studying me intently, it was enough to send a shiver down my spine despite the heat in my face. He didn’t miss anything. I’d never known anyone who caught every minute detail like he did.

“S-sorry,” I whispered, unable to look at him anymore. It was stupid. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I was making it into something it didn’t need to be. I could just clear my inbox instead of this.

“No apologies,” I could hear the little smile in his voice as he repeated my words from earlier even though I was intently staring at my computer screen to avoid reading his expression, “What’s going on? What’re people saying?”

I didn’t understand how he sounded so calm and unphased. This was basically the closest we’d come to discussing whatever we were. If there even was a proper ‘we’.

I just highlighted the first message in my inbox and turned my laptop to face him. I watched as his eyes skimmed it, eyebrows still pulled together in thought. I knew if I pulled my hands out from under my laptop, they’d be shaking.

“Are we okay?” he asked casually with a shrug. I wasn’t sure how he meant it. How I was supposed to answer something so slippery.

“Y-yeah,” I choked out almost too quickly as I looked over at him, “I-I mean I think so. I-I think we’re very okay right now.”

He shrugged with a little smile, “Me too,” he turned my laptop back to face me, “Y-you can tell them whatever you like, you know. That we’ve met or that ‘m here and stuff. Whatever you want about us. I-I just. Sort of like to keep myself more private, y-you know?”

The nervousness in his voice didn’t go unmissed. I knew exactly what he meant and it sort of stung, that maybe he thought I would reveal his identity or something. I wanted him to know that even if his management wouldn’t hunt me down and publicly execute me, I wouldn’t. I could never.

“Y-yeah, god yeah, I-I would never-” I shook my head again but he cut me off once more.

“I-I know!” he shook his head, long curls falling out of place out of his face, “I know, honest! I just. Sorry. That was stupid. I-I know you would never.”

“H-H, I don’t have to tell them anything,” I mumbled, skimming over the message again. I couldn’t look at him. I didn’t think he knew, whether it was because of me or something bigger and that hurt.

“N-no,” the hesitation had suddenly dissipated, “I-I want you to. I want them to know whatever we are,” he let out a nervous and sheepish laugh, “I-I’ve been wanting to ask you about it, j-just didn’t know how. Wanted to wait until things calmed down actually. I-I wanna be able to post pictures of you and put your name in things I write. I-if tha’s a-alright?”

My stomach erupted in butterflies and my heart rate sky rocketed for a much different reason than before. I wanted to fucking kiss him. Crash my lips against his and tangle my fingers in his hair and just kiss him. Nothing more, nothing less. But I wasn’t sure if I was allowed. If the concept of ‘us’ included simple kisses.

“Y-yeah,” I breathed out, “I-I want that too. L-like obviously nothing that would give you away or anything,” I shook my head quickly, “J-just normal stuff. I-I could let you see everything first if-”

“Alivia,” he let out a half laugh, “I trust you.”

*

anonymous asked:
is there something weird going on between you and h?? are you guys okay??

arcatfire answered:
he is laying on my mattress and the only weird thing is that pickles has not moved off of him in the past two hours
#he says they are bonding

anonymous asked:
WHY DIDNT YOU TELL US SOONER?!?! HAVE U BANGED YET?? PICS OR IT DIDNT HAPPEN

arcatfire answered:
(x)