Rain | Harry Styles

4.7

'passionate from miles away, passive with the things you say.'

(passionfruit - mabel)

-

A.

"You know," Liam scowled, "just because you're back with Harry, it doesn't mean you can neglect me."

We were at Liam's house, spending the night there after Liam had complained he was 'lonely' and 'sick of our ugly asses spending time alone together', and so - we were keeping him company.

I chuckled, flicking Liam's head playfully as I walked past from grabbing a drink from his kitchen, heading towards the couch where Harry pulled me onto his lap, "You'll always be my second favourite, Liam," I teased.

"Bitch," he huffed, and Harry rested his chin on my shoulder, my back against his chest as he shot Liam a look.

"Watch it, midget," Harry warned, and Liam gasped.

"I'm taller than you!" Liam whined.

"Nah, I have a few inches on you. Just like I do in everything," Harry smirked playfully, and Liam threw a pillow at him, Harry using me as a shield.

"Wow, I really hate you," Liam sighed, "I invite you to my house, let you live here - and you, Ana - I expect more from you. I brought your relationship back together, you know."

"Proof?" Harry quipped.

"I-"

"Invalid statement."

"I fucking hate you, oh my God, you son of a-"

"Oi, who do we hate?" Niall asked, surfacing from the bathroom and flopping down onto the couch beside Liam, throwing an arm over his shoulder.

"Harry," Liam folded his arms, and Niall mock-gasped.

"And you're calling him a son of a bitch? Don't you ever insult Celia Styles like that, she's a bloody saint."

"Exactly, Niall," Harry declared, reaching over to high-five his friend, before leaning back against the couch again, his arms returning to their state around my waist.

"Niall!" Liam whined again, "you're meant to stick up for me."

"Am I?"

Liam and Niall continued with their argument of who should back who up, while Harry turned to me. 

"I was meaning to ask you something, and I feel like I'll keep putting it off if I don't do it now."

"What? What's wrong?" I asked nervously.

"Mum wants me to come back to Manchester for a few days before graduation," he sighed, "and I feel like that trip will be a whole of a lot bearable with you there with me."

I raised my eyebrows, "What? When are you going?"

"Wednesday or Thursday," he answered solemnly, eyes watching mine as he squeezed my knee, "We'll fly out late Wednesday night, leave on Sunday afternoon. I would say you could meet the parents, but - since you've already met my mum - I guess it's more of a 'meet the sister'?" he then mused.

I nodded slowly, "I could ask my parents."

"But would you want to come?" he asked, appearing slightly more nervous now, until I pressed a gentle kiss to his knuckles.

"Of course, I'd love to come," I assured him honestly, watching the smile grow on his face. 

"I doubt you'll love it," he told me, "it's a pretty shitty place to be."