Our Plan {narry}

Chapter 23: Date night

                                  

PLEASE READ: ( A/N I would just like to say that though this chapter is rated R, there is NO SMUT in it any longer. If you would like to read the smut that was originally in this chapter, go to my profile and you'll find it there.

                                  

    (Warning, this chapter contains 'slight' boy on boy action, and while it is not a full on sex scene, I just wanted to advice you smut is in the near future. I will put a * where it begins and a * where it ends)

                        (Part One: Save me)

   My fingers itched to intertwine with his as we walked down the hurried streets of Ireland. Somewhere, more than likely not far behind, there were of course security. We could never seem to go anywhere without them. So despite the itching of my cold fingers, I settled for stuffing my hands in the pockets of my sweatshirt, and with a grim feeling of love I realized Harry had done the same.

It wasn't technically meant to be a date. At least, that wasn't my original intentions. It was only a day off, a day to try and pretend that you were a nobody, even if just for a moment.

I found it funny, how it seemed when I was younger I had always seemed of being somebody. Of doing great things, of meeting the best people. And by some miraculous chance, it had happened for me, yet here I was, wishing to be a nobody, even for just a second more. I suppose my reasoning for wishing for fame at such a young age sprouted from my ability to sing, and flew on from there. I dreamed of Private jets, screaming fans, and woman throwing themselves at me. Until the day I fell asleep and dreamed of men throwing themselves at me that is. However this supposed ideal dream of mine, had left out the flaws of all the fame brings. Forgetting what the word privacy means. Being possible targets for assault. Being in-able to walk through a store and buy a bag of chips without being attacked by young to middle aged girls.

Not being able to walk down the street, and hold your boyfriends hand.

True, there was a chance that I may not have been able to hold my boyfriends hand even if were weren't famous. In that case the worse we could get were harsh glares and children asking their mams what we were doing when we kissed. However in our realistic situation we had death messages, false rumors, new castings, and the reality of fans breaking our album in two, because of the beliefs of their own parents. It was screwed up, but unfortunately it was the life we could be living.

I glanced over to Harry, frowning at the fact that I couldn't see his eyes through the dark shades that covered his face. His long, curly hair was pulled back into a small, nub of a ponytail, making me just want to bite his neck until neither of us could take it anymore. He wore what was meant to be a button up shirt, though I don't think he received the memo, because he had apparently decided it was in fashion to only button it up to his lower torso. I would be lying if I said I didn't lick my lips.

I wanted to know if he was glancing at me too, but of course couldn't see past those horrid sunglasses. And as he lead us into one of the considering 'local; shops, I held my hand out in front of him, knowing we were free of most cameras and lingering fans that were trying to sneak past security. He looked at me, and I could dimly tell his eyebrows were raised in questioning. I grinned at him, glancing to make sure the clerk and other customers weren't in ear shot. When I saw they weren't, I glanced back at my confused boyfriend.

"Gimme your sunglasses. I don't like that I cant see your eyes," I whispered, pretending to look at one of the postcards on the stand to my left. I heard Harry's breath hitch, before I felt the cool metal of the sunglasses being placed in my hand.