One Direction Preferences✔️

A Choice • Harry

It was trending on Twitter before you even woke up.
That meant millions of people had already known about it before you did.
And you were his girlfriend.
It started off like this: It was a normal morning.
It was mid-summer, so it was scorchingly hot. The heat compelled you to stay home all day — not that it made that big of a difference, you weren't an outdoor person — and do nothing but watch Netflix and try to Chill, because that's how you survive the heat.
And not 'Chill', but legitimately Chill, because sweating does nobody a favour.
When you woke up, Harry was already gone. You had no idea why he kept going to work every morning. They were on hiatus, and when he told you about it, you were ecstatic because that meant you could have him all day, every day.
But it seems as if the hiatus didn't mean anything for him. It just meant that he wasn't on tour. But he was leaving you just the same. Every single day, he would leave before you even woke up, and when you asked him about it, he would say it was 'work'.
Were the other boys also 'working'?
At first, you were paranoid, and you thought he was seeing someone else. But then the fans would've caught it right away, so that thought vanished rather quickly.
Then you proceeded to check Twitter, thinking nothing of it. And that's when you saw the hashtag.
#Dunkirk.
What the heck was Dunkirk?
You clicked it, still thinking nothing much, then you saw pictures of Harry. And words were floating around. Words like 'movie' and 'Harry acting' and 'Quitting 1D'.
And if you thought nothing then, you thought everything now.
Harry was acting?
Since when?
Was that why he was always disappearing during the day?
Because he was trying to arrange something with Modest, so he could act, then join the band?
Or was he quitting the band?
And why hasn't he told you any of this?
You decide to text him: Hey babe
Only after a shower, and a few minutes later, you get his reply: Hey kitten, what's up?
You could be discreet about it, or upfront. You decide to give him the benefit of the doubt: Are you working right now?
He responds: Yup. Did you just wake up?
Was he trying to change the subject?
You choose your words carefully: No, I woke up close to 30 minutes ago...and I thought you were on hiatus babe.
He chooses his words carefully too: A One Direction hiatus, not a work hiatus. You know how busy it is. I went out and got a smoothie for you, it's in the fridge.
Setting down your phone to check the fridge, you smile at the sight of your berry delight. Then paranoia kicks in. Was this Harry's way of sweet talking you into submission?
Nope nope nope. You head back over to your phone, slurping your smoothie blissfully. You text back: It's DELICIOUS I LOVE YOU and what are you doing that's making you so busy? I miss you.
And in his response, you could almost detect a hint of anger: You know how my career is, Y/N. I'm always busy. And I'm sorry to leave you alone.
Defending yourself, you type: I'm not alone, I'm actually going over to a friend's house today. I'm actually leaving now. Bye.
You didn't know why you were suddenly so snappy, but you shut off your phone. If Harry wanted to act and not tell you about it, fine, be that way.
Slipping the house keys into your back pocket and putting on your flip flops, you step outside. All you needed was a walk outside to clear your head, and when Harry got back, you two could discuss this like mature adults.
But discuss what?
He hadn't even admit to acting, and it was a miracle that the fans knew everything about it.
Who leaks this stuff?
And why don't they leak it to you?

When you get back, the sun was setting. You had spent the whole day walking around in the park, trying to get your mind off of Harry. And you almost did it. You went home, took a shower, and totally forgot about Harry.
Until you turned on the TV and his face was there, covering E! news. His hair was covered in a beanie, and surrounding him were actors. Actors you've seen from the movie screen. And they were all sitting with Harry, like he was one of them.
You turn up the volume just in time to hear the interviewer direct a question to Harry, "So! This is your debut movie! How do you feel about that?"
Harry grins, and licks his lips. Debut movie? "I've always wanted to give acting a shot, and I've never had the chance to...until this hiatus. And I'm really grateful to be given this chance. The script is great, the cast is great, and the movie is going to be great too."
Movie? Cast? Script? You haven't seen him even hold a piece of paper around the house.
And when did he decide to become an actor? And why weren't you part of that conversation?
"So the movie is going to be filmed at the exact same spot as the evacuation, right?" The interview asks someone you presume is the director.
"Yes," the man says. "Filming is taking place in Dunkirk, France."
Dunkirk, France?
You were going to have to move to France??
That's it.
You didn't care if Harry was on national television, you text him: Once you get home, we need to talk.
You watch him shift as his phone buzzes in his pocket, and you could only imagine what his face would look like once he sees your message. How could he just relocate to France without even mentioning a word of it to you?

You had just finished eating dinner when you heard Harry come back home. Leaving the dishes in the sink, you walk out of the room with your arms crossed over your chest.
He looks up from the doorway and sighs, "Y/N, I'm really tired, can we–"
"We're having this conversation now," you snap impatiently. Your expression must've been frightening, because Harry nods without another word. You're both seated calmly on the couch when you state, "You're in a movie."
He repeats solemnly, "I'm in a movie."
You press your lips together, eyes not daring to lift themselves from your shaking knees. "Why are you in a movie?"
"What do you mean why?" Harry fires back, and he stands up. You can feel him–no, you can see his shadow towering over you. "I'm in a movie because it's good for me. It's good for my career, for my reputation. It's also a good experience."
"But it's not your music," you rise to your feet, eyes still not meeting his. "At least your music keeps you in one place."
"My music takes me all over the world!" Harry raises his voice, shadow hands gesturing wildly. "So don't tell me the filming in France is going to be a problem, because you put up with me going to Italy, even Hong Kong!"
"But you always tell me first," you finally let yourself look into his eyes, and they frighten you. They're green, but not submissive. They're spiralling out of control. And if they were grey, you think they would look like the hurricane that swept Dorothy away. But they weren't. They were green, so they reminded you of a whirlpool, spinning around ships. Except you were the one spinning and it was on Harry's finger. "You always tell me when you're leaving. But not one word of this movie? Harry, I had to find out through fans on Twitter, and when you've already confirmed it with the world!"
He's screaming now. "What? So I have to run EVERYTHING through you? And the truth is, I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to stop me! I didn't want to turn down this role just because you didn't want to move to France for a few months."
"Well, I'm not stopping you," you whisper. "Go. Go to France. Get the fuck out of here."
Something in Harry's mind clicks, and his entire demeanour changes. And he's back to his old self again. "No, don't kick me out."
You raise your eyebrows, "Is that the best you can do? No, don't kick me out. I don't have to run EVERYTHING by you, Harry! If you're not moving out, I'm leaving."
"Don't go," Harry grabs your arm, holding you in place. "Come to France with me."
"Harry," you try to get him to loosen his grip but his hand is like steel. "Harry, stop this. Let me go."
"No."
"Harry, you're being ridiculous, stop."
"Come to France with me."
"STOP!" You don't know why, but you explode. You yank Harry's hand off of you and collapse onto the couch, clutching your face in your hands. You feel tears brewing in your eyes. You sob, "Why didn't you just tell me you wanted to act? I could've been so understanding."
Harry sinks down beside you and gently wraps an arm around your shoulder. He whispers, "I'm sorry. I...I should've told you earlier. The second I decided I wanted to act. The second."
You look up at him, "Then why didn't you?"
He looks almost ashamed. He confesses, "Because I didn't know what I would do if you didn't want to come with me. And I didn't want to think about leaving you here."
"So what were you gonna do?" You can't quite keep the tears from streaming down your face. Harry is on the verge of tears, himself. "Just leave me here and go off the France? Without a word to me?"
"I could never leave you like that," Harry whispers, cupping your cheeks with his hands. "Please. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."
"What are we gonna do?" You ask, and you see the first tear make it's way down Harry's face.
"Long distance," Harry blurts. Then he nods confidently. "Long distance never failed us. It'll be hard, but it won't be impossible."
You shake your head, "But I just got you back. I don't want to keep sleeping alone again."
He sucks in a breath, and tilts his head to examine your face. His thumb traces gentle circles into your skin. "What are we gonna do, kitten? I want you to come to France with me. But I can't ask that of you. You have a career too."
"But you are more important to me than my career," you slowly say, words becoming more firm as they leave your mouth. "I've been working my ass off for a year now. I'm sure my boss will understand if I take a few months off."
Harry's green eyes widen, but so does his smile. "Wait, are you saying what you think you're saying?"
"Let's go to France," you grin and he pulls you into a tight embrace. "But you owe me so much."
"I'll pay for every single shopping excursion and meal while we're in France," he promises into your hair.
"Yup, that sounds good."