dear ana ❥ h.s.

tear stained cheeks

It'd been over a month since me and Harry first met, and since then, we've gotten to know a lot of each others secrets. I learned that he used to have buck teeth in middle school before he finally got braces, and that he had a sister, and even that he wet the bed until he was thirteen years old. He told me he was still scared of monsters in his closet and that he was petrified of looking under the bed after he'd seen a scary film.

He was an amusing man, always having a joke or two up his sleeve, no matter how bad. He told me many funny stories from when he was a kiss, like the one time he dressed up as a dinosaur egg in the school play, or when he was playing with his sister dressed as a fairy.

I'd even told him how I had horribly curly hair up until I was seventeen, and for some reason then, it straightened out. I told him about my crooked teeth, too, and even showed him pictures of myself from high school - back in my prime, to say. He told me I was still adorable, and that I shouldn't've been insecure about my looks. He claimed that if he had known me, he would have been all over me. That sounded like a bit of a stretch, but I'd take what I could get.

Anyways, for the past week or so I'd been staying the night at his house. His house was nice, his wall matched his decor, which was beige, and he had minimal clutter (that was nice). I loved staying here because he had mountains of movies to watch and CD's to dance to. He cooked dinner most nights, and let me tell you, if his whole artist plan doesn't work out, that man can cook. Tonight, we were having breakfast.

"Harry, oh my god, you're going to burn the bacon!" I yell, running into the kitchen and removing the smokey pan from the stove-top. I could see the bacon burning, right before my own two eyes.

He only laughs obnoxiously loud, doubling over in laughter over my hissy fit. He claimed it wasn't a big deal, mainly because he knew I loved bacon and I threatened him his life if he ruined it. Oh, and would he pay for what he'd done.

"I'm going to get you, Styles." I smirk, setting the pan on the counter and grabbing the canister of flour. His face drained of color, his smile fading away. He knew what was coming.

"Don't you dare, put that flour down!" he says quickly, backing away from me slowly.

"No, you ruined my bacon, I'll ruin your shirt." I smile sweetly, scooping out a handful and blowing it in his face.

His eyes close, and he stands silent for a moment. But before I can begin to worry I'd angered him, a small smirk pops onto his face and he looks at me.

"Oh, so we're gonna play this game, Angel?" he purrs, his eyes flicking to the carton of fresh eggs behind me. Oh god, no.

"Harry, NO!" I set the canister down, taking off in the other direction before he could get me. Before I knew it, he was chasing me around the house with two eggs in his hands. He was creeping up on me, and let me tell you, I was not fit for running.

He wraps his strong arm around my torso, smashing the two eggs on top of my head and laughing deeply. He sets me back down on the ground, loosening his grip on me and letting me go. 

"Wanna keep going at it, Missy?" he inquires, raising a brow and crossing his arms across his chest.

"No," I grumble, flicking him off before heading for the kitchen to clean up the mess, "but you owe me bacon when I get out of the shower."

—

I dry my hair off in the towel, wandering quietly around in his room and examining pictures on his dresser. I'd seen them before, but I'd never closely examined them. In the pictures were him, obviously, with whom I assumed to be his mother and sister. And another woman, appearing to be around his age, I had no clue who she was.

I didn't get upset over that, I just went downstairs and walked up behind him in the kitchen. I lay my head against his back, closing my eyes.

"Made you some bacon." he whispers, turning around and wrapping his arms around me. He sways slowly, humming an unrecognizable song.

Being in his arms was one of the most comfortable places to be, a place I felt safe and protected. It was like all of my worries were slowly being whisked away. Harry was like a Guardian Angel for me, someone who's always there for me in my times of need.

"Harry." I mutter, lifting my head from his chest and looking up at him. "I wanna tell you something, something important that you should know."

"What is it, Angel?"

"I've never told you about my mom, and yes, I have one. She was in my life up until I was around twelve, and then that's when my dad started getting real depressed and she got tired of all the therapy visits, pill bottles, extra money being spent, so she started t' sleep with the neighbor. He was much younger than my mom, and I guess that's what she wanted; someone vibrant and happy, someone who didn't cry every night." It was hard for me to talk about this, it made me angry at my mom all over again.

I'd always blamed her for my dad killin' himself, because I think if she'd stuck through it with him, he'd be okay.

"He was always babysitting me - and my twelve-year-old self had no clue as to what was actually happening. He was a close family friend of ours, a little closer to her than I and my dad were. I was thirteen when my dad figured it out, and it made his condition worsen. They never actually divorced, but I haven't heard from her since and now my dad's dead."

"I know how you feel, ya know, losing people you love. It's not easy, and it takes years to overcome it, but you eventually make it through the wilderness and you find the waterfall you've been looking for. I'm always here for you, Ana, if you need me, if you need advice, or anything else." he says slowly, pressing his soft lips against my forehead for a moment.

"Thank you. I'll always be here for you, too." I smile softly, rising onto my toes and kissing his cheek gently.

"He would've loved to meet you, Harry. You're who he always wanted me to be with, someone kind and forgiving, someone who saw only the good in me and loved the bad. I wish you coulda met him."

"I would have loved to meet him, Angel." he whispers. And for a few moments, we both remain silent, wrapped in each others arms. I could feel his heart pounding against my chest, a subtle reminder that there was still good in the world.

"Can I tell you something too?" he asks me, moving away from me and heading towards the couch. I follow behind him, furrowing my eyebrows and sitting down with him.

"Yeah, of course you can. What is it?"

"Um, my wife Rina," he starts off slowly, my eyes growing wide for a moment before he continues, "we were married for two years before she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, a cancer where it's always too late for treatment. She was beautiful and kind, always loving, and I wish she'd lived longer. There's so many beautiful things she's never gonna see." he clears his throat, his eyes watering at the thought of her. He must of loved her a lot.

"It was like, when she died, she ripped out my lungs, and suddenly, I couldn't breathe. Like she'd thrown me into the ocean and told me to learn how to swim or drown. I was drowning for years, until you came and suddenly I could breathe again."