Only Angel 2 [h.s] AU

The prodigal problem

Harry's POV
Seattle.

The city blurred past the window as the town car cruised through the Seattle drizzle, slick streets reflecting streetlights like a wet mirror. Dinner with the board had been forgettable. Something about market projections. Something about property in Vancouver. I'd smiled, nodded, paid, left early.

I just wanted to get home.

Then my phone lit up.

Unknown Number.

I let it ring out. Watched it die quietly in my lap.

Two minutes later, it lit up again.

Unknown Number.

Decline.

Again.

Persistent little shit.

When it rang the third time, I groaned, yanked it up, and answered before I could talk myself out of it.

"What," I snapped into the receiver.

A pause. Then—

"Jesus. That corporate dick finally cutting off circulation to your brain?"

I blinked. Hard. Already annoyed with the conversation.

"Elija," I sigh.

"He remembers," he sang. "I was starting to think forgot about me or something."

"I did."

"Ouch." He fakes.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "What do you want?"

"Just catching up. Seeing how my favorite little brother is doing in the land of skyscrapers and orgies."

"I don't have the energy for you."

"Quick heads up—I've been waiting outside your building for, like, an hour."

My spine stiffened. "You what?"

"Yeah, I tried to surprise you. But I accidentally jumped out at an old lady with a Yorkie. She screamed like I pulled a knife. Honestly, you might get a noise complaint."

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Vacation."

"You do nothing."

"Fine. Spontaneous relocation."

I sighed, watching headlights flicker past. "This isn't a hostel."

"Oh, relax. I don't need a handout. I just want to talk. Reconnect. Spend quality sibling time. Maybe split a bottle of wine. Burn some bridges."

"No."

"C'mon. You're gonna love this version of me. I'm mature. Employed. Still sexy." I roll my eyes though he can't see me. "Just get your ass here before I start bothering your neighbors."

He hung up.

⸻

I took the long way home. Drove past my building twice.

When the elevator doors opened to my floor, there he was—leaning against my apartment door like a devil with nowhere else to be. Same dirty boots. Same leather jacket. Same eyes that always looked like they were hiding a joke no one else found funny.

When he saw me, his grin widened. "Harry fucking Styles," he said, arms outstretched like we were in a fucking movie. "You haven't aged a day."

"Can't say the same for you."

"Hurtful." I unlocked the door without a word. He followed me in like a stray dog. He whistled while stepping  inside. "Big boy money. Swanky place. Is this what being a CEO gets you?"