Timeless [ A Harry Styles OU ] {1/2}

drabble: the one where it's not just any fight

It's been a long, long time since Rhea has experienced an argument of this caliber. An argument where the emotions are running so high and so deep that they overshadow everything else, from rational thought to consideration of the other party's feelings. An argument driven on the anger coursing through veins and the need to be completely honest, even if the string of that honesty is sharper than a razor cut.

After working a 12 hour day filled with unexpected obstacles and turns, Rhea's exhausted. She was supposed to work 5 hours instead of 12, but when things take a turn for the worse there's nothing she can do. Not with a whole office full of people relying on her instruction to fix it.

So she'd had to cancel, again, on Harry and their date night. This was the third time they'd tried to reschedule. This time it was Rhea's schedule that was getting in the way of their relationship, not Harry's. The quarter before their annual charity banquet was always the busiest because it was awards season. Everything had to be coordinated from stylists' to expected acceptance speeches and it was draining. It was a cruel twist of fate that Harry's recording and promo schedule for the new album freed up at exactly the same time.

As Rhea jams her keys into the door leading into her apartment, she prays that Harry isn't too upset. He'd never responded to her text apologizing about canceling and she has this ominous feeling in her gut that's making her anxious because she's felt it before, but she can't quite place when. The apartment is quiet, though. As she hangs up her coat and slips out of her heels, feet screaming in protest from being pent up in them all day – the only sound she can hear is of her fireplace crackling.

She tilts her head from side to side, trying to get the soreness in her neck to go away while unbuttoning the top buttons of her blouse as she pads through the wood floors of her apartment. She pulls the ever present hair tie that resides on her wrist off and starts throwing her hair into a low, messy bun at the nape of her neck. A few of the dark brown strands are left out but she's too lazy and the muscles in her arms are screaming in protest to be let down. "Harry?"

There's no response as she steps into the living room that is only lit by the fireplace. Harry hasn't drawn the curtains and the beaming Manhattan skyline is shining through the massive windows. Rhea frowns, teeth sinking into her lower lip as she fiddles with the hem of her pencil skirt. Harry's seated in the far corner of the living room, his face resting against his palm. He briefly graces her with a look, his emerald green eyes narrowed with an angry fire burning in them. He's wearing his nice pink dress shirt and a pair of black dress pants with his rainbow Gucci loafers.

Rhea's heart sinks in her chest when she sees his suit jacket draped over the back of the chair. He had dressed up and more over whatever restaurant he had made reservations at was obviously fancy. She takes a tentative step forward, tilting her head as Harry glares at her.

"Harry I-"

"Don't," Harry growls, cutting her off. "Jus don't, Rhea."

Not "baby" or "my love" or "sweetheart". But Rhea; just Rhea.

Rhea's heart stops upon hearing the tone of his voice.

He's not just angry, he's furious. Now that she's closer she can see the way his knuckles are white from gripping the couch so tightly, the steel like lock of his jaw. He shoots up from the couch suddenly, his loafers making an angry scuffing sound from the sudden movement. He turns towards her completely, veins in his neck bulging from how tight his posture is.

Rhea blinks and glances down at her bare feet, collecting her thoughts before she murmurs in a low voice. "Harry, I am so, so sorry. I never meant for things to get so late but it was just one thing after another and-"