DUNKIRK | HARRY STYLES

[Epilogue]

Harry had been fretting for a while over how to propose. For weeks now, he had been scribbling in that little notebook that he still refused to show India, even after three years of dating. Ideas would strike him and he would note them down diligently, determined to make this proposal one that would not be forgotten.

There was so much history between the two, so many wonderful moments that he was overwhelmed by the prospect of having to put his love for her into a gesture. There didn't seem to be a way to propose that was grand enough to express how he felt. 

Then, Harry remembered that India wasn't one to like big surprises, huge gestures, expensive gifts. He thought back to the morning after the premiere, when they were laid together in bed, completely worn out after a sleepless, passion-filled night. She'd told him that her favourite moments were when they were laughing, when their eyes scrunched shut and their heads threw back- when they were so full of joy that for a moment everything stilled around them. 

Harry understood India well, especially after dating her for three years. He knew that she would feel overwhelmed and embarrassed by a grand, public proposal so instead, he started to plan something a little more small and intimate.

//

It started with a surprise trip to Paris. Harry had taken India to the airport, refusing to tell her where they were going until they were on the plane, flying over the channel. She had yelled in delight, leaning over to plant a kiss on Harry's mouth. Immediately any doubts that Harry held about proposing were quelled as the kiss tingled on his lips- even after all this time.  

They spent the first day in Paris acting as typical tourists and visiting the landmarks of the city. India took cheesy photos of Harry pretending to hold the Eiffel Tower in his hand and he snapped one of her side by side with the Mona Lisa, trying to copy her famous expression. But throughout all of the day, Harry had an undercurrent of fear running through his veins, thinking about all of the ways India could say no. 

That night, in their deluxe hotel, they made love in front of a wide window. The city seemed to still. Every car halted, every person suspended in time as ecstasy spread through each cell in India's body. Harry seemed particularly eager to please that night and India knew him too well to not guess what was coming the next day. Despite that, she refused to get her hopes up. 

Yet when she woke up that morning to Harry by her side, his breath whispering through her hair and his arm slung across her hips, she couldn't help but dream of a married life together. To be able to call him her husband would be the highest of privileges. 

When Harry said they were taking a little road trip out of Paris it did nothing to suppress the swelling of India's heart in her chest, anticipation fizzing at the ends of her fingers. She was surprisingly quiet in the car, something that amped up Harry's nerves. 

India looked out the window, wondering where in hell they were headed. They were in the middle of nowhere, the car twining through French fields and tiny villages. After an hour of seemingly going nowhere, India finally had to ask. 

"Harry, babe," She said, gently laying a hand on his sleeve and distracting him from his worrying thoughts. "Where are we going?"

"It's another surprise," He said, mouth upturned at the side. "We're not far away now, love. Another ten minutes or so."

Those minutes passed quickly until they pulled up outside of a building that India vaguely recognised. It was small and covered in curling, flourishing ivy, but rang a bell deep inside of India. It reminded her of summer, fireflies and warm, damp nights; she couldn't remember why. 

"You remember it?" Harry asked, opening her car door and looping her arm through his. He looked nervous- so nervous that his hands were shaking slightly and a light sheen of sweat covered his forehead but India dutifully ignored it, not wanting to make him more agitated.