when love lasts | wroetoshaw

sixteen

the late afternoon sun streamed through the wide balcony doors of harry's flat, casting a warm glow across the living room and kitchen. harry's flat, now our flat, looked like something from a minimalist design magazine, though i would admit that was more due to the thorough cleaning i'd insisted on rather than harry's natural organisational skills.

"are we hosting the queen or just our mates?" harry teased from the kitchen, leaning casually against the counter, his blonde hair slightly damp from his shower.

i stood near the sofa, making last mine adjustments to the cushions. "very funny, harry," i replied with a smirk, tossing a stray pillow back into place. "i just want this to go smoothly. it's the first time everyone's coming here since i moved in."

harry chuckled and crossed the room, standing behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. "it'll be fine, abs. they're our friends, not inspectors from 'come dine with me'. they're just here for drinks and snacks."

i turned my head slightly to glance at him, my eyebrow raised. "right, because our friends are never judgmental."

"okay, fair point," harry admitted, pressing a quick kiss to my temple. "but i reckon they'll be more focused on the beer and food than whether or not the cushions match."

satisfied with my work, i sighed and leaned back against him. "i guess you're right. it's just a lot, you know? moving in together, hosting this. it still feels a little bit surreal."

harry rested his chin on my shoulder. "yeah, but it's good, isn't it? like, proper good."

i smiled. "proper good."

~

it was a rainy friday evening in london, and i was curled up on harry's sofa, wearing one of his hoodies and sipping a cup of tea. the sound of rain pattering against the balcony doors filled the flat as harry shuffled around in the kitchen, rummaging through drawers. "i swear, i've got biscuits somewhere," he muttered, poking his head into another cupboard.

"they're probably behind the microwave," i said, smiling at his lack of organisation.

"why would they be there?"

"because that's where i put them last week," i replied.

harry groaned but found the biscuits in exactly the spot i'd mentioned. he grabbed them and joined me on the sofa, tossing the packet onto the coffee table. "see, this is why i need you here all the time. i'd starve without you."

"you'd live off takeaways," i teased, nudging him.

"exactly." he opened the packet and offered me one.

for a moment, we sat in comfortable silence, the kind that had come to define our relationship. it was easy being with harry - natural.

harry broke the silence, his voice casual but thoughtful. "you know, you basically live here already."

i glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "do i?"

"yeah," he said, gesturing around the flat. "half your clothes are in my wardrobe. you've taken over my bathroom. and every time i open a cupboard, there's something new that you've snuck in."