*this is a 70s!rockstar!Harry Styles au fanfic... i mean... he just radiates 70s!rockstar*
The 70s. A time of free love and music. And that's exactly what reader gets into when meeting the newly famous rockstar Harry Styles: love and music.
Along w...
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Summary: Reader makes a decision that leads Harry down a spiral.
Note: grammar and spelling errors. ah yes the beginning of the ANGST ANGST. a lot of chapters after this will be coming from harry's pov!!!
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Warning: language, mentions of smut, drinking & mentions of drinking, usage of drugs & mentions of drugs, ANGST
Words: 4.6k+
***August 26, 1976***
The Malibu sun was just beginning to set. The temperature warm, except for the slight breeze of ocean waves.
It would have been the perfect evening for you and Harry to be sitting in the sand with Sunny, cuddled into one another as you'd watch the sun disappear.
But that wasn't the case.
The thought of Harry even touching you in such a way repulsed you.
Angered you.
Because you didn't know how much of it was a lie.
Harry threw his keys onto a kitchen counter before pouring himself a glass of scotch, and placed two ice cubes into the glass.
He held the glass up to his lips, intaking a small taste before making his way towards the living room.
Your eyes instantly connected with his as you turned around. Both of you standing there in shock - but for different reasons.
"What's all of this?" Harry asked, eyeing down cardboard boxes upon cardboard boxes. The sight making him curious.
"Harry-" you began, your voice fragile as you tried to remain neutral. "Harry, I thought you weren't arriving until late tonight."
"I caught an earlier flight," Harry answered. "I wanted..." his voice trailed off, distracted by all the boxes. "I wanted to see you." Harry took a step closer, trying not to come to any conclusions before getting an answer straight from you. "What is all of this?" he repeated. "Why've you got all these boxes out?" he questioned, his hand opening up a box and observing. "Why are your clothes in there?" He stepped back. "And why is Sunny on a leash? Sunny's never on a leash," Harry began to speak more frantically, the more he spoke the more he could only assume the answer.
"Harry," your voice broke.
"Why..." He nervously pointed at the boxes. "I don't... I don't understand. This isn't... This isn't..." He shook his head. "You're not leaving me... yeh?" He assured himself. "Have we bought another house I don't know about," Harry tried to joke.
