The Junk Drawer

How You Meet // h.s

You're part of the behind the scenes crew on the set of Dunkirk.

Being young and inexperienced on set, you've basically been dumped as universal assistant: you bring people coffee and run errands and watch people do the jobs you'd like to do one day - but you don't complain. You're on the set of a Christopher Nolan movie. Dunkirk, no less. Critics are already predicting that it will be huge and from you've seen, they're undoubtedly right. Who could boast that one of the first sets they've worked on is a Christopher Nolan one? It's a huge honour.

So it's nothing to be surprised about when you jump at the chance to bring the head cameraman his coffee - even if his assistant (the one who was supposed to do the job in the first place) - sent you to do it.

"Two sugars, half a little pot of creamer, no milk," you chant under your breath as you make it with much more concentration than is needed. "Two sugars, half a little pot of creamer, no milk."

It's done quickly, and in your opinion, you've nailed it. A tiny smile of accomplishment tugs at your lips as you pop the white lid on the paper cup. If you've gotten this right, you might be allowed to watch cameramen really film. The idea puts a spring in your step as you spin on your heel - colliding straight into somebody's chest.

"I'm so sorry!" you shriek, watching your newly made coffee run down this person's costume. Their soldier costume. "I'm so sorry, I'll- I'll-" Your eyes glance upwards at the person you've just spilt coffee all over and you blanch.

Holy hell. Holy fùcking hell.

You've been on this set for two months and you've managed to avoid him for the entirety of that time, only ever seeing him at a glance from afar - partly because you were busy doing your job, and partly because you couldn't be sure of how you'd react if you saw him up close. You and the other hands had been warned from your first day: no freaking out, no bothering the actors. And so, to keep your job, you did what you haf to do; you hung with the behind the scenes crew and only the behind the scenes crew; you scrupulously avoided befriending anyone from hair, makeup, or costume; you avoided the the celeb part of the trailer park; and you never approached spots where the actors were known to frequent.

And yet here you are, face to face with Harry Styles.

You've never seen him in the canteen either - which is why you felt so safe coming in here. Why couldn't he be a normal celebrity and get somebody to make his coffee for him?

"I- I-"

Harry looks down at you with impassive eyes, the corners of his lips quirking slightly as he watches you flounder. The sight of his slight smirk makes your heart stop.

No fangirling, alright? We hear so much as a whisper about you bothering the actors and you're out.

At this your gaze shoots back down to the floor of the little canteen, where the coffee is already beginning to dry and become sticky. "I'm not supposed to talk to you," you whisper, unsure he even heard you as you turn and briskly walk towards the exit.

The rest of the day passes without incident: you ask a friend to fetch the cameraman's coffee (not that either he nor his assistant will notice the difference, anyway) and there are no more collisions or spillages as you run your errands for the day. Filming wraps up as the sun begins to set, but by then you're already in your trailer - less chance of bumping into anyone famous as they make their way to their trailers for the evening. The Great Coffee Incident practically forgotten, you curl up on your bed. Your roommates will be gone for another two hours at least - they always go out to eat off set. That's why you're surprised when there's a knock at the door.

"Wrong trailer!" you yell. Nobody ever knocks on your door; it has to be a mistake. But the person knocks again. You groan as you get up and stomp to the door.

"Trust me, you have the wrong trailer," you say as you push the door open. "I'm just a behind scenes..." The end of your sentence gets caught in your throat as you realise who is on the front steps of your trailer.

"You're not supposed to talk to me?" Harry frowns.

You yank the door shut before he can react.

Harry Styles is on the front steps of your trailer. Harry Styles is on the front steps of your trailer.

"Hey!" he calls, knocking once more. "Open the door!"

"Go away!" you shout without thinking. Shìt. What if he reports you for being rude and you get fired?

"Please open the door?" he pleads. "I'll shout if you don't."

You hurry to the door and push it open, nearly bowling Harry over in the process. "Are you crazy? I could lose my job!"

Harry's brow furrows. "I wasn't actually going to shout. Why?"

"Because!" you hiss. "Because if we're seen together people will assume I'm bothering you, or sleeping with you, or-"

"Can I come in?"

"Did you hear anything I just said?"

"Yes," he nods. "But I- I don't know. I want to talk to you."

"I'm not sleeping with you."

Harry looks hurt. "I wasn't expecting you to," he denies. "Please let me in? I promise I'll tell people you weren't bothering me."

You shut your eyes with a groan. "I'm going to lose my job," you mumble. Nonetheless you step back, allowing Harry to walk in and shut the door behind him. "Was there anybody outside?"

"No, just me," he promises. "Are you really not supposed to talk to me?"

"We're not supposed to bother the actors," you quietly explain, trying to figure out if you're just imagining the sad tone in his voice. "...and I didn't trust myself not to freak out around you."

At this, Harry's face breaks into a smile. "You're a fan?"

You flush, thinking of the One Direction merchandise you own. "Y-yes. Which is why I didn't want to bother you."

Harry takes a step closer- then two, then three, leaving you no choice but to press yourself against the wall in the tiny hallway that links the bedroom with the kitchen and living area. Even so, you can still feel his breath on your face, smell the coffee on it.

"What if I wanted you to bother me?" he whispers.

...what?

"What?"

"I said..." He leans even closer, so close you feel you might pass out. "What if I want you to bother me?"

You swallow and lick your lips nervously. "I'd lose my job."

A frown pulls at Harry's features, his body immediately straightening up. "I'd tell them we're friends."

"Friends?" you echo.

Harry nods. "Yeah, friends," he confirms. "And you know what friends do?"

Hesitantly, you shake your head 'no'.

"They watch TV and eat junk- or at least, I'll watch you eat junk," he happily announces, taking you by the wrist and leading you into the kitchen. "I'm on a juice cleanse, see."