Harry Styles Imagines And Or Preferences

Imagine 3

Hey Guys, 
this is Imagine 3. This story I have found on Tumblr by,  
http://rue-by-another-name.tumblr.com/

Enjoy!

It was more your flat than it was Harry's now, after years of living in it. Originally, it had started under the premise that you would only remain in his flat for as long as it took you to find your own place. Which was fine, because he wasn't staying there and you needed a place as uni started and you were friends, close friends, and it was all fine and dandy.

But then you really started to get busy with your schoolwork and considering the workaholic and professional perfectionist that you were, you were constantly on the move between classes and work and more classes and your second job. And besides, Harry was really only in and out at that point. The tour was coming to an end, the band was on their final days, and Harry really hadn't thought much of it that you had now lived in his London flat for an entire year.

And also, he felt bad. He felt bad that you felt the need to always support and provide for yourself and that you were doing nothing but working yourself to death in order to pay your tuition and then be able to find your own living conditions and so finally he had said, "Just stay here. Stop worrying about it. You're fine here, Y/N. Really."

Though you'd fought it originally, you knew that in order to keep your perfect grades in tact and be able to get to work on time, there was no better place to live than where Harry was. You were centrally located now considering you'd applied to jobs close to Harry's flat so you could walk, and you only had to walk a solid fifteen minutes to get on campus. You were comfortable, Harry was comfortable, all was well.

And now you were going on your fourth year of living in the homey flat right off campus with the brick walls and open kitchen and perfect studying nooks. Harry was back now, he had been for two years now really, and you'd fallen into this sort of domestic companionship with one another that you knew you'd never be able to replicate with anyone ever again in your lifetime.

You'd met back when you were an intern at some dumb bubblegum pop magazine. You'd hated it, but it had been close to your house and you'd needed an internship and you got to write articles, which was more than other internships would let you do. You and Harry had been young, mid-teens, and the snowstorm had really put a wrench in the boys' traveling plans.

Somehow, over the course of hours, you and Harry had grown close. He found your loathing of paparazzi press cute and you found his overall outlook on life to be rather endearing. Friendship quickly ensued. You'd fallen out of contact once a couple years after when Harry had gotten a serious girlfriend and you had been applying for uni like a madwoman, but you'd found your way back to each other every time. It wasn't the kind of friendship either where you needed to be in constant contact to click, but instead you could go months without seeing his dimples pop and you'd be just as happy to see him no matter what.

But now you'd been living together for almost two and a half years. Harry came and went every once in a while. He'd been gone for a while as he'd worked on his movie, and you'd studied abroad a semester far away from him, and suddenly the distance was becoming a bit harder on the two of you. But probably because you'd gotten so attached to the idea of constantly being together, that now you took it for granted.

You were running up the steps in the rain, your wellies sloshing along the pavement as you wrestled with your umbrella in the cold night wind. It was pouring buckets and you were absolutely soaked regardless of your rain jacket and useless umbrella and you were pissed.

After two weeks at your international law convention, you'd really thought you would have gotten some sort of job offer. You'd always though you'd wanted to be a journalist for the people, you know? Give those a voice who don't have one. But you realized, after a year into school that what you really wanted was a law degree, to not only write for the people but to fight for them too. You knew that your time in school was almost up and you were studying vigorously for your final exams, but this convention had opened your eyes to the amount of firms out in the world that you wanted to work for - and it seemed none of them were interested in you.