DATE: MAY 17, 2021
Summary: Harry’s been going to the studio every day since his break from tour. It’s left you feeling cold without his warmth and you can’t help but assume it’s because of you.
Note: inspired by Half The World Away- One Direction
Prompt 77: “There’s nothing you could ever do to make me stop loving you.”
Warnings: angst, fluff, mild dialogue toward the end, SMALL mentions of anxiety
famous!Harry, any dates included are NOT real and the gif is NOT mine.
The cold weather is brutal when there’s no heat. An A/C, a blanket, hot chocolate— whatever gives warmth. Warmth was comforting and it made you feel safe. Protected. Happy. You hated the winter, especially when you were alone. Your source of heat was gone and away, and you felt like it was because of you. Your warmth was at the studio 24/7 writing music because he’s a world-wide rock star. Your warmth was missing, and it left you icier than ever.
You would try to reassure yourself every day that it wasn’t your fault Harry was gone so long. He would leave unnecessarily early in the morning just to sit in a room full of speakers and microphones just writing. You’ve been there a hand-full of times. He would get back when the moon was high in the sky, and by then your head was already in the clouds. He’d lie in bed beside you, but over the few months, he stopped tucking his arm on your side. This made you worried that you had done something wrong, but even worse, it made your heart crack a little more every day.
Your warmth was dwindling away.
You rarely had ongoing conversations; it’s like co-workers in different departments who saw each other once in a while. You attempted to make him breakfast on the days you didn’t go in or have work. He would take a bite and scurry off, or tell you he’s in too much of a rush. He didn’t even kiss you goodbye anymore.
Especially when you’re alone, you get in your own head. Now, you’re really intuitive, so you never thought he was cheating or doing something that would hurt you, intentionally at least. He just felt so far away, even if he was only half-an-hour away most of the time.
This Friday morning was no different from the past few months; he used to make coffee, but apparently he picks up something on the way now. You didn’t even bother getting up early anymore to make him anything. You were struggling to get out of bed due to lack of motivation yourself. You were living on low self-esteem and a green box of crackers.
The bed was the place you could be warmest without him, you assumed. The white duvet was hugging your body snuggly, like your boyfriend would when he would cuddle you. The friction of heat began to tingle up your arms and legs, giving you that relaxing feeling. You suddenly had the urge to go to the restroom and you mentally cursed at yourself.
When you peeled the blanket off of you, the wood flooring was slick and cold as if it was ice. You swear you hated living in London, and one day you two were moving to LA where the sun was shining throughout every season, and you could go to a beach. That is, if there would still be two of you.
It was getting evening and you felt exhausted, more mentally speaking. Your mind was running on a high all day while your body stayed lazy in bed. You were trying not to go into a deep hole of anxiety today because you felt stupid about the whole situation. Did he even know he was doing this? Maybe he’s just so distracted with his work he hasn’t noticed anything. But you can never convince yourself to leave it at just that.
You wanted to get up and make him dinner, but you couldn’t because you kept stopping yourself. You hoped when he got home he would walk in and smell the delicious food on the stove, come over to you, and kiss you because he loved you. But that hasn’t happened in months. You guys have barely kissed in a week, let alone a month or two.
And sex? Yeah, right. You might as well be a virgin again.
Every somewhat positive thing that would enter your mind would be countered by a negative thought, and it was making you go crazy. You kept thinking back to how happy you both were when he was on tour; all the places you guys got to visit together and all the people you got to meet. The month after was like a honeymoon with the peaceful chirping of birds and the glazing sun that made your skin glow.
But it also made you so upset because you compared it to how everything is now, and how you didn’t know if you would ever feel like that again with him. Yet, you don’t think you could feel like that with anyone ever besides him.
Your mind was in a constant loop of doubt as you tried to wash it away with some music. Over these few months, you had made a playlist called ‘Misery Music’ for when you were, well, miserable.
The music was getting to you as silent tears slipped down your face. This wasn’t a breakdown necessarily, it didn’t feel like something you couldn’t control. You just needed to cry, quietly. Your face was still with a frown as you cried, curled up with the duvet to your neck. The air was frosty and nippy especially with the water glazing your cheeks. Your eyes rested closed and you hoped to fall asleep before he got here, so you didn’t have to welcome him back just to say goodbye again.
Harry was about to crash. No, not his car, but his body. Somewhere in the back of his stubborn mind, he knew he was overworking himself. He didn’t need to be in the studio for this long, for this many days. He was forcing words onto paper and harmonies into microphones just to be disappointed by the end of a session.
A part of him wanted to go home and relax, and just talk to his girlfriend. He misses you. He knows that he’s been short with you, but he’s stressed out and he wants to get at least half of this album done. Harry knows that if he doesn’t, he will feel like a procrastinator and he’ll never fully unwind.
Harry is not a procrastinator.
“Mate, I think ya should go,” Mitch mumbles tiredly with a hand curled onto Harry’s shoulder.
“I’ve got to get a verse and then—”
“Harry,” Sarah says sternly and quietly. Everyone was relatively quiet, even though they had no reason to be. They were probably the only group in the studio right now. Really, everyone was exhausted, but Harry was too blindly overworked to notice. “go home. Y/N misses you. Spend time with her. She needs you.”
Maybe a short pep-talk was what Harry needed to go home tonight because that’s just what happened. Yes, he bantered for a minute, but it’s Sarah, no one will out-argue her. He yanked the keys out of his ignition when he arrived back to his place. Fatigue was the demon on his shoulder telling him to go to sleep. He was going to listen.
Jumbling with keys, he steps into the house and it’s dull, empty, silent, and untouched. He felt as though it was being drained of its imaginary color it once had, and he feels like it’s his fault. No, it is his fault.
He tugs his phone from his pocket to see that it’s late evening now. This is around the time he usually comes home, if not later. He discards his shoes and trudges himself up the wood stairs, feeling his own weight with every step.
He noticed how cold it felt in here. It was like an icebox, the atmosphere was thin and raw with invisible frost. As he passes the A/C in the hallway, he sees it’s at 68° and switches it faster than he could blink. There’s something that fills the silence as he gets closer to their bedroom. He can hear the dulcet singing through the door and assumed you had gone to sleep. He sighed to himself because he wanted to talk to you for a moment, actually kiss you for the first time in a while. He was suffering with the knowledge of his actions, but you were suffering with none. Curiosity was a real serial killer.
Harry creaked the plain, white door open, twisting the knob fully to make no noise. However, it didn’t even matter because you were sitting with your head lying against the headboard with tears rolling down your cheeks. You didn’t look like you were asleep.
“Love? What’s wrong?” Harry shut the door behind him as he strode to the opposite side of the bed. You peeled your wet eyelids open and regretted it. He had this look of concern growing on his face; you could see it in his eyebrows how they knitted together and how his lip was a chew toy for his teeth.
“Nothing,” You croaked out from your much-needed cry. You wanted to cry again because he was here and was actually talking to you. It was overwhelming. “I’m fine.”
“Bullshit,” Harry squinted in disbelief, glaring at you in full seriousness. He was never one to take your excuses because he knew that they always disguised something deeper. “Talk to me, please.”
You began to pick on the insides of your mouth with your teeth because you didn’t want to argue. You two didn’t argue a lot, and it was never that bad either. You were just terrible with confrontation and didn’t know how to express your emotions and thoughts all the way. Your concern for the other person’s feelings always terminated you.
That choked-up feeling was wrapping around the insides of your throat and you just wanted to throw it up. You didn’t want to break down, it wasn’t a big deal, you had to remind yourself. You always called yourself dramatic for feeling any type of emotion, and Harry hated it.
“I can’t read y’mind.”
“I wish you could,” You squeaked through the duvet, bunching it up toward your face to cover the puffiness. He gently tugs the blanket down, revealing your beauty to him. He never once thought for a moment that you weren’t drop-dead gorgeous, you kill him every time he stares at you. You never hated yourself for how you looked, you just paid no mind to it. You were worrying about other things.
Your physique was always a dreading conclusion in your mind.
Sliding the pads of his thumb across your cheeks, he stares into your eyes. He’s trying to pry an answer out of you, and it’s working. You had to tell him sometime.
“Do you love me?” Was not the thing you planned on saying, but you did say it. You didn’t think that’s how this was going to start, but it has to start somewhere.
“Of course I do,” Harry mumbled through his lips, which were practically closed. Harry felt horrible. He wanted to dig himself into a hole six feet down and lay wide awake until he died. The second you finally spoke, it had to be the most heartbreaking words he’s ever heard. Of course he still loved you! He bloody hated that you thought he didn’t anymore, or maybe at all. He knows you’re strong minded, so it wasn’t just an anxious thought. He knows you would have a reason for why you’re feeling like this. And he knows just why.
It’s his own lack of love. He hasn’t been giving any, to anyone for that matter. His love was everyone’s source of warmth, he threw it around like a flower girl at a wedding. Hence, why London’s felt pretty cold these past few months without it.
“I-I get why you’re gone all the time, but can’t you take a break? You just got off of a year-long tour!” You expressed, constrained against your own will to not cry right now. Harry can feel the beat of his heart slowing down, he knows he’s losing the feeling of it because of overwhelming sadness.
“I would think that you’re tired, but you just keep going. Every. Day. I don’t want to think this, but... is it me?” You screwed your eyes closed tightly, covering for his reaction. You didn’t want to see the look on his face if he was about to break your heart. You much rather not hear it either, but it’s got to happen some way.
“God, no, Y/N,” He gasped at you, gripping your hands roughly, yet lovingly in his. Your trembly lip went in between your teeth, tugging faintly to make it stop. “it’s never you. S’never been your fault.”
Your waterline was marked in tears and his were beginning to, as well. Your cheeks were as puffy as marshmallows and your fingers were like icicles in his hands full of warmth.
“I overwork m’self. I was tiring everyone out without even knowin’. I’m so so sorry I ever made y’doubt my love for you, angel.”
He smiles at you endearingly and sadly. He meant what he said. You smile at him wearily, as wasteful tears slip down your face for, hopefully, the last time tonight.
“There’s nothing you could ever do to make me stop loving you.”
You chuckle weakly, wiping your tears that came along with that statement. You weren’t done crying, you guessed. He leans forward on the mattress and holds you in his arms. His body encompasses you in heat a blanket could never do. You wrap your arms around his neck, you nose against his shoulder.
“No more studio for a while. Just me and you. Can do whatever you want,” His arms are still tucked around you as he pulls away to look at you. Your eyes were glossy from the water glazing them, your hair was down and wild, you probably needed a tissue, but you looked just as beautiful as ever to him.
“Can we just sleep?” You yawned, blinking away the tiny stars that lined your vision.
Harry flickers the light off from his bedside table, darkening the bedroom. He was forgetting his night routine, and so were you because you both knew you needed this time together. He continues to slug his arm over your waist, gently dragging you closer to him. His cheek was tenderly placed on your shoulder as his eyes began to shutter shut.
You had both felt as though your hearts were beating together again, and you couldn’t even feel him in this position. You were getting warmer; you loved his radiance almost as much as you loved him.
“Please never stop cuddling me.”
The curtains had been open since yesterday, so the bright rays of the sun were directly on Harry’s back. He was satisfied with the fever burning the top few layers of his skin because he was holding you. You were snuggled against him, while his arms wrapped around you in an infinite hug. He couldn’t possibly pull you closer, but that didn’t stop him from attempting to anyway.
From your backside, he swept away the hairs that were covering your swollen, sleepy face. He admired your every feature, admitting to himself that you were flawless inside and out. He didn’t believe anyone was perfect because perfect was impossibly unachievable. Like every other person on the planet, you had your knacks and your peeves and little things you did that got on his nerves— but it was never a deal-breaker for him. Harry could never imagine a world where he walked away from an opportunity like you.
This was what Harry did; he was an early morning thinker and a late night talker. He thought about how there were such cold places in the world, like London, that were just too cold for him. He thought about how he’s traveled to many cities and states that are so scorching, he swears they were touched by the sun itself. Nothing was ever perfect temperature to him because perfect temperature was impossibly unachievable. He was always changing his preferences, so he knows other people must have been, too.
But he realized when lying beside you that you were perfect. You might not be the universe’s definition of perfect, but you were the epitome of his perfect. You were everything he wanted, needed, and more. Even though he could not stand your snoring as your face was pressed messily against the pillow, he wouldn’t trade it for anything.
You will always be his warmth in cold cities.
You will always be his perfect temperature.
You will always be his perfect.
You will always be his.
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