New York [harry styles au]

18

18.
The last week of December arrived very soon, and we were extremely unprepared for it. It was as though Christmas and New Year had knocked at our door with hurry, just to find Harry and I still in bed and unaware of their business in our lives. Christmas Eve was amusing, especially with how panicked Harry suddenly felt. I had never seen him rush out of the apartment door so quickly to find food for dinner the day later, after we all agreed that Christmas Day should be spent at his apartment-- since it was such a symbolic venue for most of my time in New York. Thinking of it that way made me feel melancholy; 1972 was almost up, and I found myself worried that we would never be at such a high point again. Harry's trip to the supermarket down the road was unsuccessful at first, the turkey proving much too hard to find and I could see him slipping on the freshly-polished floor with the speed he was searching at.

In the end, he settled on five ready meals-- "these will have to do, I'm not made of money" was muttered-- and picked up a huge Victoria sponge-cake for dessert. I took the role of finding suitable tableware and cutlery, as well as some fancy-looking glasses. He huffed in annoyance as he pushed the meal-clad trolley from the food aisles and to our favourite part of the store, the alcoholic beverages. His hands grasped at two vodkas and a whiskey before I had even set my eyes on the shelves.

"Are you sure we should buy those?" I asked.

"I always get these, what do you mean?"

"I mean, shouldn't we get some festive alcohol? Like mulled wine or just red wine in general, really." I explain and he nods, but was hesitant to return the bottles to the shelf.

"Well, I needed these anyway-- we're running low. This should do just fine, shouldn't it?" He questioned, holding a deep red bottle in his palms and I nodded.

"Yeah." I breathe out with a chuckle and a smile immediately finds a way onto his face; completely dismissing the serious moment for an amusing one.

We travelled to the check-out to find the cashier to be a middle-aged woman, the type who looked like she had five children at home and a husband who enjoyed anything but her. She gave a small scowl behind her curled auburn locks before scanning our products. Her eyebrow raised and she gave Harry a puzzled look as she held the five ready meals. I had to hold in a laugh. Once we were bagged up and prepared, we hurriedly left the store to return back at Harry's pick-up truck. We stuffed the bags in the backseats and sighed with relief as soon as we had sat down.

Christmas morning was surprisingly peaceful for such an otherwise hectic day. I woke up to Harry unwrapping his arm from my shoulders and sitting up. My eyes fluttered open in reaction and he noticed immediately.

"Did I wake you? I'm sorry." He said before rubbing his hands over his tired eyes.

"No, no. Don't worry." I grinned as I soon realised what day it was. "Merry Christmas!" I sat up and tackled him into a huge hug, he resisted at first before heavily engulfing me with his own arms.

"Merry Christmas." He gently mumbled into my ear and I stayed perched upon his lap for a moment. "Do you want your presents?"

"Oh, Harry. You shouldn't have." I say as I leave his lap in order to fetch the presents I had purchased for him.

We have a moment of childish giggles as we travel to our secret hiding places and take the wrapped boxes, placing them over the crisp duvet of the bed instead. My hiding place was the newly-discovered closet of Harry's bedroom; Harry's was the cupboard under the sink. As quickly as we had escaped, we returned to the bed and grinned at each other as two children on Christmas morning would.

"You first." I say, "Since you're always the one giving me presents. I hope you like it, I wasn't sure what to get you-- I'll give you this one first." My hand reaches for the smallest box, wrapped in shining green and red paper.