Ghost Writer [Harry Styles][H.S. Fanfic]

14 - FALL

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After writing an amazing song with Louis, I downed three margarita pitchers and the group of us devoured four large pizzas. Louis is an incredible lyricist. He seamlessly put together such beautiful lyrics based on the story I told him. The man does not need me on his team whatsoever. None of them do, so I don't know why they're so hellbent on the idea.

It's now nearing 2:00 AM, and I'm growing more and more exhausted by the second. Mitch already passed out an hour ago from his severe alcohol intolerance beside me on the sofa outside. I still have multiple errands to run tomorrow and that last song to work on with Niall before I leave town, so I finally come to the resolve that it's time to head home.

"Well, I think I'm going to call it a night guys," I announce, pushing myself onto my feet with a groan. "Niall, I'll see you tomorrow."

All of their eyes snap in my direction, and I receive a round of "Awes."

"You guys can crash here if you'd like. Mitch is out cold, and you shouldn't be driving after drinking that much... even though I'm sure you're probably unfazed by it," Harry says, standing as well, triggering the other two conscious men to follow suit.

You would be correct.

"Oh, no. it's-"

"Give it a rest. You're not going anywhere. Niall and I will get Mitch to bed." Louis interrupts me, squeezing past me while motioning to Niall to help him with moving Mitch.

Once they lift him up and mumble their 'goodnights', I glance over to Harry and put my hands on my hips when I see him smirking, giving me a cocky shrug that says, 'Looks like you're stuck.'

"Harry, I - Do you even have enough beds for all of us? I mean, I can crash with Mitch if need be, but I don't want to overstay my welcome or be an inconvenience." I try to reason with him, but he strolls in my direction until he's standing toe-to-toe with me.

"Stop. Talking." A soft laugh falls from his lips as he intertwines his fingers with mine, and we each grab a case as he pulls me inside. "I feel like I need to explain some things. C'mon."

We set the instruments on the couch, and he lets go of my hand to close the door before he takes it again with a firmer hold this time. I follow him through the living room, and then we head up the chestnut stairs in silence as I trace my finger along the railing.

"Is right now the appropriate time to talk? You know... with other people here and all," I ask, knowing what this is probably about, but also because I'm growing increasingly more nervous the closer we get to what I'm assuming is Harry's room for more privacy.

Harry peeks at me from over his shoulder, nodding as we round the glass banister to walk into his master room on the right, and he closes the door behind us once we're all the way inside.

I had noticed the silence and the closed doors down the hall, so I assume the guys have all gone to bed, and hopefully they won't overhear anything we talk about tonight.

My jaw drops as I take in his master bedroom. The walls are painted a dark charcoal grey with almost a full wall's length sliding glass door that leads out to yet another balcony which stretches out approximately five feet, holding only a single white chair in the far corner.

Why is there only one chair?

The sight surprises me a little. I'd assume Harry would occasionally have some 'visitors,' but the way it's just sitting in the corner, it tells me he prefers to sit there alone.