Got The Sunshine On My Shoulders || larry stylinson

CHAPTER II - PART 10

When Harry gets his phone out to call Niall, he realises it's still off from the plane. The second he puts his passcode in, a flurry of notification sounds spill out of the speakers.

He's got-five voicemails, twenty texts. Seventeen emails. A cold sweat breaks out on his forehead as he sits down on his front step and starts going through them.

Voicemails first, because he doesn't know anyone who leaves those anymore, so he figures it must be something pressing. To his chagrin, he's absolutely right.

“Hello, Mr Styles, it's Phil here,” the lawyer's shaky voice fills Harry's ear. “I don't want to worry you, everything's going well with your documents, but I did run into a bit of a hiccup, so I would really appreciate if you could call me back at your earliest convenience.”

No. Not this, not when-Harry sighs, and listens on. Maybe the other four are full of Phil apologising and reassuring him that everything is, in fact, going according to plan.

“Mr Styles, Phil again,” starts voicemail number two. It's considerably less composed that the first one. “I am really very sorry to bother you like this, but I am aware of the urgency of your situation, so I must insist that you call me back as soon as possible.”

The sweat's dripping down Harry's back now, cool and uncomfortable. His body doesn't seem to be capable of exhibiting any other outward signs of stress after what he just went through, but his heart is determinedly climbing higher and higher up the back of his throat.

The next voicemail is the same worried nonsense, but in the fourth one, Phil even skips the Mr Styles in the beginning.

“Harry, I've emailed you a scan of the document now, I hate to make this so complicated, but I've recently been made aware that you are now out of the UK, so could you just-actually, sorry, I just realised I didn't explain the issue. The papers are drawn up very well, like I told you when we spoke, and I've had Mr Tomlinson's signature verified, but Mr Styles, you didn't sign them. I can't use these to divorce you without consent from both parties, so please, if you could just print the copy out, sign it and scan it back for me? Thank you very much, sorry about all this. I wish you a safe journey.”

Harry's stomach does a sick little lurch.

“What do you mean, I didn't sign them?” he says into the phone automatically, and only realises that won't work when he hears the beep at the end of the message.

He exits the voicemail, and looks up at the sky trying to think back. He went through the folder over and over, reading over the terms, looking at the loops and lines of Louis's signature - he must have signed. There's no way he would be that stupid, after all this trouble. He remembers holding the pen in his hand and writing his name-

Into the blue folder. He groans out loud. He'd signed the papers in the blue folder on the plane to London, because he thought he was going to be able to bring the complete thing right back.

He lets the last message play, and jumps when it's not in Phil's nasally voice.

“Hey,” says Louis, breathing into the receiver. Harry's entire body just-relaxes. “You're probably still in the air, but Phil's just called about some issue he had that he needs you to sort out, and he's-mate, he's really stressed,” he chuckles. “So please call him when you get this. And, uh. I don't know if you saw my text before you took off, so just in case you didn't, I hope you had a good trip home.” There's silence. Harry holds his breath. “I-,” he starts, but there's a crash, and a voice that sounds very much like Ernest cackling madly in the background. “I have to go. Call Phil. Goodbye, Harry.”

And that's the end of it.

Harry doesn't check the texts or emails - they're all probably about the same thing anyway. He takes a deep breath, tells himself that he's making the right decision, and dials Phil's number.