(22/09/17)
The evening was spent doing absolutely nothing. I lounged around in jogging bottoms and a sweater of Harry's, one that he insisted I have after seeing the blood on mine in better light. The material was now frayed with panic as well as age.
The curly haired, 6 foot tall boy stayed with me all night, refusing to leave until I was asleep. It reminded me of the previous night, one filled with just as much distress and kindness, yet there was something so polar opposite about the two situations.
I'm not sure if it was the setting, or my state of mind, or maybe even the clothes I was wearing. One of the layers in last night's chaos stood out to me from underneath the surface, causing a mixture of those nerves and unease to inhabit the plains of my emotions.
Hopefully soon I can explore the unfamiliar territory enough to get an understanding.
Harry shifted my focus from the panic, talking about travel, my friends at home, and what I like to do other than photography. We discussed our favourite films, mine being mostly of the horror genre ironically, and his being romance. I found out that his favourite film is the Notebook.
This surprised me for multiple reasons, the main being that he does not seem like someone who would enjoy watching a two hour long crying fest of a film, but he's full of pleasant surprises.
I finally told him that I love Sweet Creature. This made his eyes glow a happy sunshine, and his lips burst into a thankful grin. He even sang it to me whilst I drifted off into sleep. It was quiet, and gentle, and meant the world, even under his breath in low, secret volume.
This leads me to right now, where I still lay under the sheets, hair straggled around my head on the pillow that has been squashed uncomfortably against the wall. I rub my eyes to remove any sleepiness, failing miserably. An exaggerated groan is heard. I sit up, the duvet falling in shape around my legs, and stretch my arms to the ceiling, hearing little cracks along my back.
Someone knocks at the door, eeriness reappearing from under the sheets as a reminder of last night, one that I had just managed to forget.
"Nixie?" Harry sings cheerily.
It's the same person too.
"Yes?" I mimic.
The door pushes open, revealing Harry. Of course, he has his signature mustard flares on, a pink linen shirt, and a pair of expensive-looking sunglasses tucked in his collar. The norm.
I suddenly feel a bit disgusting in my pajamas and hoodie. His energetic aura takes over any embarrassment immediately as he bounds into the room holding his car keys, phone and wallet.
"What are you doing?" I ask, puzzlement evident on my face.
"We, are going for an adventure. Get dressed." He states, and moves abruptly towards my open suitcase on the ground.
He rummages through my mass of clothes, tossing sweaters to the side and holding up pair after pair of flared trousers. Harry eventually selects a baggy jumper with a vintage shark print in the centre, and some ripped, loose jeans.
"These, cool trainers and a nice necklace is perfect." He nods in satisfaction.
I feel like I'm in a fitting for a photoshoot, what with how he's bossing me around. I'm perfectly capable of choosing my own clothes, believe it or not. I scoff, and heave myself out of bed. My posture straightens so that I reach the space below Harry's chin, peering up into his eyes.
"I can dress myself, thanks." I smile sarcastically, and move towards the cosmetic bag where I keep my jewelry.
"Okay. Sorry." He mumbles with a chuckle.
YOU ARE READING
GOLDEN (harry styles)
Fanfictionwhen nixie rose ester oliver gets a surprise email saying that she has been chosen as harry styles's tour photographer, she says yes. she says the three letter word that has the power to change your whole life. luckily for her it did, in the form o...
