sunflower - h.s.

sixty one

"Christ, I'm obsessed with your lips." Harry whispers as he approaches behind me, watching me in the mirror. I'm putting on lipstick, a dark red shade that I knew Harry loved.

"You like how they look or what they do?" I ask, smirking at him through the mirror. He shoots me a grin back.

"Would you be insulted if I said both?"

"'Course not." I smile, spinning around and wrapping my arms around Harry's neck. "I know you love my singing." It takes him a moment, but then the dots connect in his mind and Harry laughs loudly. He holds out his fist and I bump it with mine.

"That was clever." He says through his giggle. I smile and kiss his cheek, leaving lipstick on his cheekbone in my wake. He gives me a look. "You're not doing your hair?"

"Excuse me?"

"No, not like that - that's rude, you know I would never say something like that to you," I raise an eyebrow and Harry pulls me in by my waist, settling his forehead on mine. "I love your natural hair, but whenever we go out you usually do something to it, that's all. You look smashing, as always."

"Nice save." I joke, earning myself a pinch to the side. I push Harry back, just to get a good look at his clothes - which fit him perfectly. "You look extra handsome tonight. Is that a new shirt?"

"It is, it was a gift, actually."

"Oh, from who?" I ask, adjusting his collar and necklaces. He coughs.

"Camille." He mumbles.

Harry...

I roll my eyes and take a step back. I had done my best to ignore the fact that Harry was out with his ex and hadn't told me - because, truly, I didn't care - but this?

This I couldn't ignore.

And this pissed me off.

He's waiting for my reaction, but I don't say anything. I walk to our room, grab one of my favorite shirts of his and toss it at him without a second thought. He stares at it in his hands before looking up at me.

"You're not wearing a shirt your ex gave you on a night out with your current girlfriend." I say, crossing my arms. Harry gives me a look.

"You said you don't care-"

"I don't care if you're friends with your exes or even if you hangout with them, but I don't like this." I give Harry a look, waiting for him to argue or tell me that I'm being dramatic. But he doesn't do either. He just takes off his coat and unbuttons his shirt, tossing it onto his couch before shrugging on the one I gave him. I walk over to button it for him, loving the way he kisses my forehead as I do so. I look up at him once I'm done. "We're good?"

"Of course, my love. You alright?"

"Confused as to why you thought it would be a good idea to wear something your ex gave you, but yes I'm alright."

"It's just a shirt, I didn't think anything of it." He shrugs, and I bite my cheek, crossing my arms.

Am I being dramatic? It is just a shirt...

A shirt from his ex.

But that doesn't mean-

Harry kisses my forehead again.

"It bothers you, and that's okay. Don't overthink what you feel, darling."

"How'd you know I was overthinking?" I ask, pushing against Harry's chest. He chuckles, then mimics me - bites his cheek, crosses his arms, pops out a hip. I roll my eyes with a giggle and slap his arm. "My look, right. Let's go get food, you twat." Harry giggles along with me, grabbing his phone and pulling me in front of the mirror before I can protest. He snaps a few photos, posting one on his Instagram - darling divine as the caption. It's a sweet photo: me standing with my back against Harry's chest, holding his hand against my chest, the lipstick still on his cheek.