Hoax | H.S|

The Solution to All*

AN: All I can say is - you're welcome ;) Let's get sexiii.

--

I was right. No such luck.

When I make my way back into the apartment, with the key Harry had given me, the lights are all out except for a dimmed lamp in the living room. I was hesitant as I closed and locked the doors behind me.

He was sat in on the white, pillowy couch in his living room. He had his hands clasps between his knees, elbows on his thighs, and an frustrated expression as he tracked my movements. But he didn't speak.

"You have no good food in your house," I break the silence with the first thing that popped into my head as I place the bag of food on his kitchen island.

I'm not good with quite, so when he still doesn't speak, I feel the need to fill to void and continue to blabber, "So I got snacks, if you want some? Takis, Twizzlers.."

His eyes just continuously follow my movements, as I place my soda in the fridge, and then unnecessarily toy with the bag on the counter. I feel like a teenager who got caught out after curfew.

After a few moments, I put on my big girl pants and pad into the living room. I sit across from him on the opposite side of the couch, finally making the eye contact he's been searching for. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you," I clear my throat, looking out the window, but I can still feel him studying the profile of my face.

"You did worry me, where did you go?" he huffs, sliding his large rose ring on and off his finger repeatedly.

"To get junk food. I asked Jay to take me," I reply, my tone hushed like we were going to wake someone.

"Y'coulda asked me," Harry mutters, sitting up straighter and laying his large palms flat on his thighs.

I shook my head, "No. I wouldn't ask you to do that."

"Why? If you were hungry, I would have taken you to get food."

I swallow, "Harry. You don't have to dote on me. You don't have to act like my boyfriend, okay? Like I said in the car, I know you have to act that way in front of the cameras but you don't have to when they're not around."

"I didn't fuckin' mean it," Harry grumbles, "I-I was just - I hate being pressured like tha' and it was the only thing to get them off my back."

"Harry - do you realize how many times you've said things like that since we've met? Constantly. I can't convince you that I really am not using you in the way you think I am. I've tried to show you it's not like that but it's obviously failed."

"You're not hearin' me!" He bellows, "You're not hearin' what I'm saying!"

"Why are you yelling?" I shoot back at him, voice tight.

His fingers find their way into his hair as he lightly tugs at it in frustration, "Because.. I don't know how to get across what I'm tryin' to say properly!"

Do not ask me why this question left my mouth. I didn't filter it out before it was too late. The only rational answer that I can come up with is that it was were we manage to have a very meaningful conversation like this in the past.

Was it appropriate? Absolutely not. Especially when I was attempting to put firm boundaries of our relationship in place. I've honestly...never failed so hard at something before Harry.

"D'you wanna take a bath?" I ask, feeling the heat flush my cheeks chili pepper red as soon as they leave my mouth.

He also seems extremely taken aback, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise at my question. But a kind, crooked smile appears, "S'the bath where we solve our problems now?"