Gravity (A Harry Styles Fanfiction)

A little girl, of only five years of age, was perched atop a stool on the island in the middle of the kitchen, scribbling up a storm as a radio hums softly in the background. Her mother was at the sink, washing a pan from last night's concoction they ate for dinner, glancing over at her daughter's drawing.

"What 'cha drawing, sweetie?" The little girl's mother asked in her southern accent (even though she had lived in California with her family for years now), curious to know what masterpiece would end up on the front of their refrigerator today.

"My wedding."

"Your wedding?" Her mother repeats. Inside, she knew that nothing lasts forever, it hadn't for her and her husband. They seemed to be falling out of love, finding more and more things to argue about each night after they put their little girl to bed. It seemed that the only thing holding their marriage together is their children: their girl right in front of her, and the one in her quickly growing belly. But it was wrong to tell her daughter this, her little girl might as well keep her innocence as long as she can until she is faced with the day when she is forced to grow up and carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. Let her dream while she still can, she thinks.

The girl nods, bobbing her head up and down. "Yep," she adds as she takes another blueberry and pops it into her mouth, her afternoon snack.

"Can I see?" Her mom asks lovingly.

"No, Mommy!" The girl shouts, covering the paper us as a few crayons roll onto the floor. "It's not done yet!"

"Okay, okay," she replies patiently, propping an elbow on the counter and putting her chin on her hand. "What does your dress look like?"

The girl puts a finger up, a signal for her mother to wait a moment. "Almost done... Done!"

"Lemme see!" Her mother cries excitedly.

The girl flips the page around, revealing the whole scene. Blobs that resemble family and friends gather around, sitting on pews and grinning lopsidedly from ear to ear.

"That's Gramma, and Paw Paw, and Cousin Suzie, and Cameron and Lily, my bestest friends in the whole wide world, and there's you and Daddy!"

Her mother notices her pudgy belly in the picture. "You know that Mommy will have had the baby by then, right?"

"Yeah, Mommy, but I don't know what it'll look like. That's why there's an itty-bitty question mark right by your belly."

Her mother laughs softly and rubs her daughter's back. "You're a crazy girl, you know that?"

The girl giggles. "Am not!"

At that moment, the little girl's father walks in, pulling his glasses off his face and swiping his hand over his graying hair. "What's up?"

"Your daughter drew her future wedding," the little girl's mother explains.

"Really? Let's see what you made, honey." He joins the rest of his family by the counter, over looking is daughter's masterpiece as he puts a hand on his wife's shoulder.

"That's you guys," the girl explains, recapping the explanation that she had just given her mother. "And that's me!" She says, pointing to an older version of herself in a big white gown, walking down the aisle.

"Oh, what a beautiful dress!" Her mother compliments. Her father nods in agreement.

"I know. It's the prettiest dress in the whole wide world!"

"Who's that?" Her father asks, referring to a drawing of an old man in a robe.

"The minister," the girl says matter-of-factly.

"And who's that?" Her mother asks, pointing to the boy next to the minister in the tuxedo.

"That's my husband."

Her mother smiles proudly. "And what will he be like?"

"Well, he has curly brown hair and bright green eyes that sparkle, and he'll be really nice and kind and he'll love me forever and ever!"

"Curly hair and green eyes, huh? How do you know for sure he'll look like that?" Her father asks. His wife sends him a warning glance. Don't knock her down, her look seems to say. The father shakes his head. It's fine.

"Because I just know, Daddy. Like Mommy says about when she met you. She just knew you were the one for her."

He looks over at his wife, and she blushes, looking down at her self-manicured hands.

"You're something, kiddo," he says, ruffling his daughter's hair as he walks out of the room.

When the father exits, the mother turns to her child, smiling lovingly. "You just know he'll be the one, don't you?"

Her daughter nods, looking at the drawing of the boy, her eyes lighting up the same way her mother's did all those years ago when she met her father. "Yes, Mommy," she says in all seriousness, "He's the one."

***