If I could fly (BOOK 2)

August 15th

August fifteenth hit like a detonation.

Harry woke up to his phone vibrating nonstop on the nightstand, notifications stacking so fast the screen barely caught up.

ONE DIRECTION ANNOUNCE HIATUS.
FINAL ALBUM COMING NOVEMBER 13.
LAST SHOW SET FOR HALLOWEEN.

The world was losing its mind.

Harry didn't look at any of it at first.

Darcy sat on the bed between his legs, wobbling slightly as she practiced sitting on her own. She was just shy of ten months old now - sturdier, louder, determined in a way that made him ache. She slapped his phone with an open palm and laughed like she'd won something.

"That's not for you," he murmured, kissing the crown of her head.

Y/N leaned against the doorframe with a mug of coffee she hadn't touched. She didn't need to ask what day it was.

She already knew.

Harry stood, slipping on his jacket, keys already in his hand like he needed momentum to leave. Before he could take a step, she crossed the room, fisted the front of his shirt, and pulled him down into her.

The kiss was deep and grounding - not rushed, not dramatic. A reminder.

"All the luck in the world," she whispered against his mouth.

"I love you," he said quietly.

She didn't hesitate. "I love you too."

Darcy clapped loudly from the bed, squealing like she approved.

Harry laughed softly, kissed Darcy's hair, then kissed Y/N once more - slower, steadier - before stepping out into the chaos.

⸻

The meetings were nothing like the internet.

No panic. No hysteria.

Just quiet confidence.

The management office felt calm in a way that surprised him. They didn't pitch him a fantasy - they spoke to him like someone who already knew his worth.

"We understand exactly where you are," one of them said, sliding paperwork across the table. "You don't need to rush. You don't need to prove anything. We want to protect the long view."

Harry read everything. Asked questions. Took his time.

When he signed, it didn't feel like a leap.

It felt like a handhold.

Then the conversation shifted.

"There's also a film project we wanted to talk to you about," someone said carefully. "It's called Dunkirk."

Harry blinked. "A war film?"

"Yes. Ensemble cast. Serious work."

He leaned back, processing. "I'm not saying yes today."

They nodded immediately. "We didn't expect you to."

"But I'm listening," he said.

That seemed to matter.

Later that afternoon, he found himself in a much smaller room - guitars leaning against the walls, notebooks scattered across the table.

Kid Harpoon grinned at him like this wasn't a meeting at all.
"Big day," he said.

Harry exhaled. "Feels like standing in the middle of a crossroads."

"That's where the good stuff comes from," Kid Harpoon replied.

Tyler Johnson leaned back in his chair, studying Harry for a moment.
"So what do you want this to sound like?"

Harry thought about it.

"I don't know yet," he admitted. "But I know what I don't want. I want it quieter. Personal. I want it to feel lived-in."

Tyler nodded slowly. "That makes sense."

They talked for a few minutes - not about singles or timelines, just texture. Feeling. Honesty.

Then Tyler added casually, "I've got a mate who might fit this really well. His name's Mitch."

Harry looked up. "What does he do?"

"Plays, writes," Tyler said. "Really instinctive. Doesn't overthink. Might balance you."

Harry smiled faintly. "That actually sounds perfect."

Kid Harpoon nodded. "We can bring him in when you're ready."

Harry leaned back, something settling in his chest. "I think I'm closer than I thought."

⸻

When Harry came home that night, the house felt like a sanctuary.

Darcy was on the floor on a folded blanket, toys scattered around her. She rocked slightly on her hands, focused and determined, like she was mid-plan.
But Harry didn't go to her first.
He went to Y/N.

She was on the couch, shoulders drawn in slightly, watching Darcy like she was anchoring herself there. When she looked up and saw him, something in her posture softened instantly.

Harry crossed the room, cupped her face in both hands, and kissed her - slow, deep, grounding.

Home.

"You okay?" she whispered.

He nodded once. "Yeah. I am now."

She rested her hand against his chest. "I knew today would be huge."

"It was," he said. "But... good."

Only then did he crouch beside Darcy.

"Hi, bug."

She looked up, recognition lighting her whole face. She rocked forward, wobbled - then steadied herself and took one small, shaky step toward him.

Both Harry and Y/N froze.

Harry caught her instinctively as she tipped into his chest, laughing through tears. "You did it."

Y/N dropped beside them, hand over her mouth. "On this day," she whispered.

Darcy babbled triumphantly.

Harry kissed her forehead, then looked up at Y/N.

"I signed," he said. "New management. Talked about a film. And music - real music. With people who actually get it."

Y/N smiled, eyes shining. "I'm overwhelmed."

"Me too," he admitted. "But I'm ready."

Darcy grabbed his shirt, babbling loudly like she agreed.

And for the first time, Harry didn't feel like he was leaving anything behind.

He felt like he was finally stepping forward.