LIGHTHOUSE // a harry styles au

seven

There was a heaviness in your chest as soon as you woke up that carried it's way down your sternum to sit in the pit of your stomach. You weren't even sure what to do. You didn't answer his text last night - chalking it up to being late, easily able to pretend you were asleep. He wouldn't know that you stared at the text, unblinking, for several minutes as a cloud of disappointment overcame you.

You liked him. Despite him being closed off and despite how you first met, he had grown on you. It made you more sad then you thought it would - him not wanting you to help him anymore, that is. You shouldn't have been surprised. It wasn't working and now there was the mess of some type of feelings between you too.

You weren't exactly sure what he was thinking last night. But you could see the tenderness written all over his face when he looked at you under the dim porch light. His hand was so soft, and shockingly warm despite the cool breeze from the rain. You wondered what would have happened if you had just let him lean in the half an inch needed to connect your lips. You couldn't shake the memory of how your body reacted to being so close to him. You'd never reacted to someone so quickly, so effortlessly, so strongly. But your brain caught up just as quickly.

You hated that you couldn't stop thinking about it, especially now that he was ending whatever it was that was happening between you. And you hated that the thought made you sad.

Maybe it was for the best. You clearly weren't finding him what he needed, and clearly things between you were more complicated than you wanted to accept. It was probably for the best to just go your separate ways.

But then you'd think of his lips, and the color of his eyes, and the way the skin of his nose would crinkle when he was holding back laughter.

Snapping yourself out of it, you reached over to your nightstand to grab your phone, immediately opening up his text to slowly type out a response. You hesitated for a moment, pondering if you should try to put yourself out there, but quickly decided it was probably best to let it go.

To Harry Styles [8:02am] I understand. Take care.

With a deep breath, you tossed the phone to the side, frustratingly rubbing your eyes as you pushed your head further into your pillow.

The faint chime of a text sounded beside you, and you hated that your heart skipped.

From Harry Styles [8:04am]  Do you have time to talk? I could be at Saint Aymes in an hour.

Well shit. You hadn't been expecting that - how quickly he replied, first off, or him wanting to meet. What could he possibly want to talk about? There really wasn't anything to talk about at this point. You didn't have a contract, he could end things whenever he wanted. But your curiosity was piqued, so you sent him a quick reply that you would meet him at the coffee shop before pulling yourself from bed to hop in the shower.

It was a sunny walk to Saint Aymes, and you spotted his car parked at the curb a few spots away as soon as you turned the corner. It was not so shockingly busy for a Saturday morning, so it took you a minute to spot Harry tucked away in the corner, typing away on his phone.

You couldn't help the bit of nerves that overtook you. He was totally entranced in whatever he was doing on his phone, eyes cast down the entire time. You carefully made your way through the tables, taking in the endearing clip that held back the top of his hair along with the light blue text on the front of his white shirt - ENJOY HEALTH EAT YOUR HONEY - written in a circle around an animated bee.

He looked up then, his features softening as you walked towards him.

"Nice shirt," you raised a sarcastic brow once you were at the table, watching a small smirk pull at his lips as you sat down.