Note To Self (Harry Styles AU)

Chapter Twenty Nine.

The first thing Harry did when he arrived back home was head upstairs to take a shower, feeling a little dirty after what had happened. He didn't exactly regret it, no. What he did was wrong and he was fully aware of the trouble he'd be in if his parents knew, but the looming threat of what might happen if the truth were to come out wasn't enough to make him wish it never happened. He was just shocked that he actually let it go that far... and enjoyed it. He enjoyed it a lot, actually. He felt good. Everything was just... good. His body felt at ease, his mood was improved, and he just felt happy.

His mom was home by time he opened up the bathroom door, fully clothed and rubbing a towel through his wet hair. She coincidentally was on her way down the hall to check in his room for him, but stopped when she saw him standing in the doorway of the bathroom.

"Hey," he greeted, pulling the towel away from his head and running his hand over the top of his head to push his hair back.

"Since when do you shower in the middle of the day?" she asked.

He shrugged and flipped the light off. "I don't know, why not?" He stepped out of the bathroom fully, awaiting an answer that she did not provide, and he switched the subject. "Do you know when dad will be home?"

His work schedule was so inconsistent it was hard to know when or if he'd be home, and that made things difficult. Especially when it came to spending time together as a family, which hardly ever happened. It was a big reason Harry's mother was the main parent in his life, not because his father was intentionally not involved, but because she was the one that was always around when he couldn't be.

Harry still secretly favored his father over his mother, he was nicer. That's exactly why he wanted to know when he'd be home. He knew he needed to ask about the dance with Sophie, but he wanted his father to be present when he did because it was more likely for him to receive the okay from the two of them together than if he were to just ask his mother alone. His dad was the reasonable one, and sometimes when his mother would say no, he'd convince her to change her mind when Harry never could.

"He is home," she informed. "He's been home for hours."

"Oh," he mumbled. That meant he probably knew Harry didn't come straight home after school like he was supposed to.

"Did you not see him?"

"No, I came upstairs as soon as I got home." He should've suspected something when Winnie didn't greet him at the door.

"Well, he's in the kitchen," she informed, and that was all he needed to know before he began heading down the hall in the direction of the stairs. His mother followed.

As he stepped into the kitchen, sure enough, there was his father standing at the island in the process of making a salad. He glanced up at his son when he greeted, "Hey, dad."

Harry took a seat at one of the stools behind the counter as his father returned, "Hey, Harry."

"Hi," Mrs. Styles mumbled to her husband as she leaned up to greet him with a peck on the lips.

He grinned, "You already said hello to me, but I'll take it."

"Please get a room," Harry mumbled, glancing down at the granite counter top just so he didn't have to see the look his parents were giving each other.

"This is our room," his mother spoke. "All these rooms are our rooms, you're just scrounging."

Harry frowned, "Sorry for being a freeloader."

"Get a job," she said. "You're old enough."

His joking comment about getting a room really wasn't meant to lead into being told to get a job. That made him feel a bit guilty for not pitching in to help pay for things around the house, but his parents had plenty of money to spare anyway. His father was a highly respected neurological surgeon, his yearly salary alone was ridiculously high, but matched with his mother's from dentistry, they made well over any amount that ever would've incentivized him to even come to consider needing a high school aged job. His parents involvement in health care was exactly where Harry's expectation to become a doctor came from. He was supposed to follow in his father's footsteps, attend Harvard just as he had and specialize in whichever field he chose. Not necessarily neurology, that was the one thing that was left up to him to choose. Everything else was completely his parents idea.