Rain | Harry Styles

6.3

'with your love, i'm a better man.'

(better man - 5 seconds of summer)

-

A.

"I got a flight for four in the morning," I told Harry, wandering into the living room where Harry was sprawled lazy on the couch, "was the cheapest one."

"Hm, I'll finish packing in a little while then," he hummed in response, not tearing his eyes from the TV screen. I glanced over at it, sending him an evil look. We were back in Harry's apartment, Liam and the others back in Seattle now - we would catch a flight in the morning to be there for tomorrow afternoon.

"You're finishing 'Friends' without me?" I pouted, sitting down on the couch beside him, as he nodded.

"I wanted to see what happened with Ross and Rachel," he said as if it were obvious.

"You know what happens with Ross and Rachel," I protested, "I can't believe you watched it without me."

"Shut up," he shuffled on the couch so that he was laying on his back, lifting his foot up to nudge my face with it.

"Stop!" I groaned, trying to shove his foot away from my face as he laughed, and I sent him a huff. I stood up from the couch, only to be yanked back onto it by Harry's strong grip, pulling me down on top of him.

"Stop whining," he teased, a smirk pulling on his lips. He was feeling better, that was clear - at least in our situation. Though I was certain that his slight distrust would be lingering over him for a while now, I could only hope it began to rebuild itself soon. And that had begun when he'd showed me his writings, closing any separation between us.

"Hmph," was all I hummed in response as I buried my head into his shoulder, entirely content with his arms around my waist and my own resting at the nape of his neck.

"'m sorry," he mumbled as his eyes met mine, his green irises piercing into my own. I furrowed my eyebrows.

"That's a stupid thing to say," I said honestly, "you have no reason to be."

"I do," he murmured, his fingertips outlining shapes I didn't bother to take note of on the small of my back, "I shouldn't shut you out when I'm angry, and make you feel bad." 

"You didn't make me feel anything," I argued gently, "be angry when you deserve to be, H. We all deal with things in different ways."

"My way is pretty shitty," he remarked, tilting his head forward to press a long kiss to the side of my mouth, his voice dropping down an octave, "I love you so much."

"I love you too," I replied, burying my head into his neck and pressing a single kiss to his jawline. I couldn't help but think back to the words scrawled messily in graphite onto the pages - the words he'd written when he was away from me. I never dreamed I'd find myself in the position where somebody found themself needing me as much as I needed them; somebody loving me like I loved them. And as I stared down at Harry I knew I'd found that.

"I can't wait to marry you someday, Ana Grace," he peppered the side of my face with kisses, "have a big house and all that. And we'll get that dog you've been wanting, and one of those wine vineyards you pretend you think are cliché."

I laughed, "they are cliché."

"So are you," he winked, and I rolled my eyes, sticking my tongue out at him, only for him to touch his tongue to mine with a mocking chuckle. "Let's have a bath," he said suddenly, sitting up so that I was now straddling his lap.