anobrain // narry au

your

I write bad smut, don't judge me. Hopefully you enjoy it.

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chapter forty-one. it's always been harry.

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BUT HE DOES AGREE. Harry agrees to attend Milan's fashion week with me willingly. Eyes brightening like a child's on Christmas Day or any holiday actually — stunned and excited with flushed cheeks and that habitual raspy voice. Already demanding information, that we both leave to catch our flight on the thirty-first of January.

Harry sleeps over the day before our boarding flight. His arrival instantaneously sets his birthday schedule, I made for him, into motion. I practically suffocate Harry into a hug. He supports my weight by holding me underneath my thighs as our lips simultaneously meet for a kiss.

"Happy early birthday," I whisper between our pecks causing Harry to release a wholehearted chuckle. He leads the both of us to the couch, playfully dropping me onto one of the cushions as I, playfully, swat at him like a flying insect.

And over the months with Harry have been filled with nothing but trust and it's building. Growing accustomed to one another romantically. Security and tranquility, and it's been great. Sure there was subconscious hesitance beforehand, but that only faded away with the internal reluctance.

But there's also no distractions. No Liam, no drama, just us two fortunately. And it's been nothing but soothing. Nothing but comforting.

It's an amazing feeling to have the privilege to put your undivided trust into someone. That someone, for me, is Harry. My best friend.

Like he's going to disappear I reach for him. Just to rest my hand upon Harry's cheek. My thumb caresses the faint hair growing on his face as stubble — Harry's breath hitches. The noise ruptures the trance I had on Harry, narrowed in on my boyfriend.

I blink repeatedly to snap out of it before reaching for the gift bag with Harry's present within the paper walls. Harry excitedly grabs for me and the happy birthday themed bag, and I almost let him open his birthday present early. I almost let Harry get away with that privilege, but I snatch it from his grasp as realisation washes over me.

Harry tries to snatch it back but scoldingly, I say, "No. You'll have to wait until your actual birthday." Harry frowns but nonetheless complies to my rule, and soon I'm capturing his bottom lip with my top lip. Slowly unwinding into a passionate kiss. One that takes both of our focuses from the gift bag for Harry's upcoming birthday.

"I have another surprise for you," my voice exits past my mouth like a murmur. Harry quickly swallows my words with his mouth.

It's swift, the entire movement. I tug Harry's arm to lead him to my bedroom. Ignoring the wave of nostalgia wiping through me, with the same severe force of a tidal wave. The number fourteen proudly haunts me in a positive and negative way. And I try to ignore it with that same forceful determination, opening the door to my bedroom with a wave of accomplishment.