Harry Styles Imagines Book 2

Untitled Imagines 2

“I’m never going back.”

The day was dreary; the wind was cold, the sky an overcast of heavy grey clouds swollen with rain, and Y/N wanted nothing more than to crawl into her bed, tuck herself beneath the blankets and hide from the world for a little while. Mostly because it was Thursday, which meant it was the day they attended their art class — they’d been taking part in it for a few weeks now, and while Y/N was by no means comfortable…she did feel better. The night prior was not congested with incommodious panic, but more of a slight discontent that she had to be somewhere the next day. She could sleep for hours but she still woke up several times before her alarm, even when Harry was there for the night and could wake her up.

In the mornings they had class, Harry came with breakfast or insisted they leave early enough to pick it up on the way. It was usually light, something she could eat on the way, and he had begun to memorize her drink orders so he usually appeared with one in hand. Y/N had teased him and told him he was going from bodyguard to unfailing servant, but instead of scoffing as Niall or Adam might, he smiled gently, “I could only be so lucky to be the servant to someone with such easy wishes to meet.”

Y/N grumbled something at him about her wishes not being easy to meet, but there hadn’t been a lot of conviction to it because it was true, for the most part. Y/N asked for relatively little from them in comparison to what she could be requesting. She thinks that’s why they put up with the weird shit she does want because they aren’t being asked to kill someone or take her to a seedy party in the middle of the city where she’ll undoubtedly disappear and make their job harder. Y/N asks for them to bring her food on their way there, or to take her to a store for a little while, maybe out for a walk. She requests that they watch a show with her, or just sit at the table over at a restaurant when she does get the chance to go out with her friends.

Easy things – Harry gets even easier than that, except for whatever reason she’s much whinier to him than she is to anyone else. She doesn’t know why – the only reason she could think of is that Harry does a suitable amount of teasing and never feeds into her tauntings as the others do. Always seemed entertained by her grumbles and complaints, and her bleating and moaning; it was frustrating, and made her grumble and whine and moan more.

That morning had been no different; Harry had appeared at her door with an iced mocha latte, a croissant, and a bagel. When Y/N told him there was no way she could eat all that food, he tutted his tongue at her, “Who said it was all for you?” He handed her the drink before walking to the dish cabinet, retrieving a plate, and placing it on the counter in front of them, “We’ll split them in half, hm? I’ll even let you have the top of the bagel.”

It does remind her of being little, with her Harry, sitting on the top of the slide at the park and their snacks placed in between them. They usually shared, and while Thomas had been pushing healthier food choices on her at that time, Harry was getting much better options. He’d always split them with her – cookies, animal crackers, those weird little sticks you dip in what could only be described as artificial cheese – as long as she gave him half of whatever healthy snack he had.

“I’m teaching you how to share,” he would tell her, “‘cos you’re no good at it yet.”

They ate breakfast, went to class, and everything was normal until the instructor let them know that the next class period they would be doing peer critiques. And Y/N just…did not like the sound of that at all.

“You’re never going back?” Harry inquired, a few paces behind her, but she can hear his feet smack the pavement as he jogged to catch up with her, “Why? Because of the peer critique?”

“Yes,” Y/N replied quickly.

A laugh jumps from his throat, “Really? That was a shot in the dark.”