Amelia
Harry and I came back to New York earlier this week so we could pack for our small getaway with my family. I told Harry that if he didn't want to go camping with us I wouldn't pressure him but he assured me that he wanted to go still. He said it also might be a good distraction for him from everything else going on in his life.
Overall I think Harry has been doing fairly well. He started to open up more just with telling me how he's feeling on a day-to-day basis. Most days he's 'okay' but he's had a couple days where he wants to nothing other than isolate himself, usually with me right there with him. We've watched countless movies together just curled up in his bed. Other isolation days consisted of us going to the beach or to the Beachwood Café, Harry's new favorite restaurant for us.
Luckily, with Harry's tour coming up so soon he has an abundance of free time on his hands right now. He's not booked for any interviews or anything else career related. Jeff has been handling everything so Harry can rest up. I've been happy about this so that Harry can relax and grieve at his own pace before going on tour. I know he's looking forward to it but it's important for him to take some time to himself right now.
"Amelia?" I hear Harry say.
I pop my head out of the bathroom, where I was gathering my essentials, and look at him. He stands at the foot of our bed with two sweatshirts in his hands.
"Yeah, babe?" I reply.
"Which one do you think I should bring?" he asks in reference to the two sweatshirts he's holding.
I step out of the bathroom completely and walk towards him while trying to suppress a smile. Of course he chose two of the most expensive sweatshirts he owns.
"Neither," I tell him honestly, causing him to frown. "You shouldn't bring Gucci anything while going camping,"
A blush spreads to Harry's cheeks and he awkwardly places both of the sweatshirts down on the bed next to his suitcase.
"Sorry," he mutters. "I don't have too many sweatshirts here. I should have brought some from London or Los Angeles,"
I wrap my arms around Harry when I reach him, letting my hands rest on the base of his neck while his find my waist.
"Why don't you bring the one I bought you from NYU? I saw it hanging up in the closet the other day," I suggest.
Harry shrugs and sheepishly averts his eyes from mine.
"I didn't want to ruin it by bringing it camping..." he tells me, quietly.
I bite my lip, my cheeks heating up slightly.
"But you'd bring your Gucci sweatshirts?" I ask him.
"They don't mean as much to me as the NYU one. That reminds me of you and I don't want it ruined by mud or rain or venomous snakes," Harry says.
I laugh, causing a small smile to appear on his lips. Leaning forward, I press a kiss to his neck.
"There are no venomous snakes," I whisper.
"I hope so," Harry replies. "I'm scared of snakes. And bears..."
I purse my lips.
"Well I can't exactly promise anything about bears...Dad and I saw one a couple of years ago digging through one of the dumpsters," I say.
Harry's eyes widen and his grip tightens on my waist. Part of me thought he was kidding when he said he was scared of snakes and bears but his reaction is clearly genuine. Although I don't want him to be frightened in any way, part of me finds this endearing. I'm not sure why but I suppose I just never thought Harry Styles would be scared of anything, especially some wildlife.
