Smile for the Camera (Harry Styles x OC)

Home Sweet Home

Harry slept for a few hours. Then he woke up and we sat in silence for a while because that's what everyone else was doing. If we talked, people would definitely hear.

Smiles hadn't immediately pulled away when he woke up. He just sat, letting me hold him for a few minutes before gently extricating himself from my hold to check on the stalkers ahead of us.

I lift my hands with two thumbs up and raise my eyebrows in question. All good? Smiles nods, adopting my nonverbal communication. They're still passive. He points to me and presses his hands together, putting them to his cheek, tilting his head, and closing his eyes briefly. Did you sleep? I look at the sleep lines on his face and grin, but shake my head. Not a wink. He brings his brows together and points to his shoulder before opening his arms. Want to try leaning on me? I shake my head and wave a hand. I'm fine, I can sleep later. He shrugs and takes a look out the window. Suit yourself.

A little while later, the pilot makes the announcement that we'll be landing shortly. He apologizes for waking anyone up, but then requests that they do wake up and make sure everything is in place for landing and that their seatbelts are securely fastened.

Smiles and I both buckle our seatbelts, having taken them off for more comfort during the flight. I begin to feel the plane tip downward ever so slightly as we begin the descent. I sit up straighter and lean over Smiles' lap so I can see out the window. There's a thick layer of clouds in the sky obscuring the ground, so I can't see anything.

I slouch back down and watch as Smiles pushes his backpack under the seat in front of us, holding the wilting daisy in his hand. It's edges are curling inward, the pure white color of the petals has gone a little yellow, and the stem isn't as strong or stiff as it was when I first gave it to him. It's still pretty though.

People all around us begin slowly waking up and stretching, opening their window shutters to let in the daylight. Conversation begins to flutter about, and now, Smiles and I can speak freely as long as we keep it down.

He looks at the flower in his hands then up at me before whispering, "I feel bad, Daisy."

"Why?" I furrow my brow. "Please don't tell me you have to go to the bathroom again."

He chuckles. "No, it's not that. I feel bad because I've got this flower to remember you by, but you don't have anything to remember me by."

Is he serious? How could anyone forget him? Instead of bringing up his incredible unforgetableness, I just reach into my bag and pull out the visitor's pass to the meet and greet complete with his name, yesterday's date, and our place number in line.

"On the contrary, my friend. And unlike yours, my souvenir is one that will last forever. That flower is going to die within the week," I tease. I meant for my words to come out light and frivolous, but I can't quite keep an edge of sadness from accompanying them as well. As soon as that flower dies, he'll throw it away, and then he'll truly have nothing to remember me by. And so he'll forget. And it'll be as if we never knew each other.

He must see the hints of inexplicable sadness in my expression because he gently puts two fingers under my chin and lifts my head so I'm looking at him while he mutters, "I recently bought a book on caligraphy and flower pressing. The first thing I'm going to do when I get home is press this flower onto my very first page and name it. I was thinking 'Gale's Daisy' in big, loopy letters. What do you think?"

I manage a small smile. "I think that sounds very nice."

Unlikely that he'll actually do it, but it's a nice sentiment. He's famous. He has no reason to hold on to memories of me. He's good at smooth talking his way into making me think he does though. I'll bet he makes all his fans feel this way. He's a professional sweetheart. Sure, he's genuine now, but how long does that last?