Random Harry Styles Short Stories || Completed!

King

In hindsight, Harry should've seen it coming from a mile away.

It was in the little things that you did for him, and in the things that you didn't do. You told him you were sorry after a huge argument in which he had clearly been at fault.

You didn't complain once when Harry had to leave your best friend's birthday early to attend an award show. He had forgotten your parent's anniversary date and you came up with the excuses to give your folks.

All of those major details, which Harry had just attributed to your good, good nature, had only become clear to him after your birthday.

It was a quarter after midnight in his L.A. recording studio.

He had just bolted up from where he had been slumped over in a chair, and it was while he was trying to roll out the stress from his neck that his phone lights up with the notification: Baby's Birthday.

"Oh shit," he mumbles to himself as he double-checks the time. It was 12:03 a.m. Officially three minutes too late. His panic had woken him up completely from his slumber, and he now notices that there are other people in the small room with him.

One of them was his friend and fellow band member, Mitch.

"Mate," Harry's voice is rough from sleep, "why didn't you wake me up? I told you I was going to shut my eyes for 20 minutes. It's been 4 hours."

The other man just shrugs, and continues to strum at his guitar. "You looked like you needed the rest. Besides, the rest of them went out for dinner, and there was nothing we could've done without them anyway."

Harry curses silently and says, "Jesus Christ, it was Y/N's birthday yesterday. I missed our dinner reservation."

"Shit," Mitch responds, sitting up in his chair. "Did she leave you any calls?"

Harry feels stupid that he didn't think of checking his voicemail before then. But the last message from you was, well, four and a half hours ago.

harry: i might be a little late to dinner. still at the studio.

you: don't worry, take your time! i'm almost at the restaurant.

"Fuck," Harry breathes, and immediately starts scrambling for all of his essentials. Once he's certain he has his wallet, car keys, house keys and phone on him, he turns to Mitch. "I'm going home to face Y/N. Depending on how that goes, I may or may not be able to come in tomo–well, later today."

Mitch surprises Harry and chuckles, "You don't have to worry about Y/N."

Your boyfriend pauses before he opens the door to leave. "What do you mean?"

"She worships you, Harry. There is nothing you can do to upset her. She puts you on a pedestal."

Harry's features must've been twisted to resemble something akin to disgust, because Mitch is quickly adding, "That's not a bad thing, mate. It may as well be exactly what you want. Think about it: being at the studio at all hours and not having to worry about upsetting your girl."

Mitch's words ring in Harry's ears as he sprints out of the building.

The whole way home, Harry had prayed to all Gods that it would be a quick fight. He knew you would be angry. Hell, maybe even furious. He could only hope that it would only end quickly.

Then, he would spend the rest of the morning making it up to you.

Harry was driving at the fastest legal speed that he could, and yet he made sure to pull over just once to buy you a large bouquet of flowers. He was going to get his ass kicked, but he could at least buy you flowers.