Harry Styles One Shots

A Loose End

* indicates a new song starting

"And you're picking the car up from your brother at five?"

You're studying your face probably a little too intently in the mirror as your dad asks the question, studying a spot that's on its way to breaking out in that awful crease of your nose. Your hair is wrapped in a towel and a bathrobe covers your body having just stepped out of the shower when your dad rang to get his head around your plans.

"Five-thirty when he gets home from work." You correct him.

Your dad hums his understanding, just as the doorbell rings. You stand away from the mirror with a frown and look towards your bedroom door.

"How long is it going to take you to get there?"

You make a move for the door, still with a confused expression because you're not expecting anyone, and nearly forget what your dad had asked you. "Er, 'bout three and a half-four hours."

"It's gonna be really late by the time you get there isn't it?"

"Yeah, but we'll probably get food on the way." You suppose, just to appease him. Your plans haven't actually gone into that much detail. "Hang on a sec, Dad. There's someone at the door."

"No worries." He mumbles.

Still with the phone pressed to your ear, you unlock your front door from where you'd locked yourself in. You only open the door an inch or two since you're not exactly dressed, and peep through. Your confused expression falls as you comprehend who it is, and widen the gap in the door.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Your dad scolds your name for your language, but you barely register it.

Standing with a proud smile and an overnight bag, Harry widens his arms. "Came to see my best friend." He's dressed in his camel corduroys and a plain white t-shirt, and you're sure there's probably a bobbled black jacket in his car somewhere.

You're not sure if he's being gesticulate or if he's expecting a hug from you, but you acknowledge neither and move out the way for him to enter your small one-bed flat. "A heads up would've been nice." You mutter with a soft scowl, closing the door behind him. "Harry's just turned up unannounced."

"Has he?" Your dad muses, a hint of humour on his question. "Put me on loudspeaker a second, flower."

You clear your throat. "Alright." You glance at Harry who's already left his bag in the middle of the hallway to start wandering around your home like he owns the place. "Oi, dickhead. Dad wants to talk to you."

Harry turns to you with an even wider grin. "Daddy Brian?"

You roll your eyes as you put your phone call on speaker. "Wish you wouldn't call him that." You admit sulkily. "Alright Dad, he's here."

"Harry?"

"Hey Bri!" He shouts excitedly, and you think your eardrum might burst.

Your dad's laughter can be heard for a brief moment. "How you doing, you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm alright. You? Everything good with you and Mon?"

"We're just fine. I um," your dad laughs again, and you can only imagine the absolute bollocks he's about to come out with, "I just wanted to say, me and Monika watched the video for the single this morning."

"Oh yeah?" You can feel the excitement radiating from him.

"Yeah, Mon saw it on Facebook and started squealing at six o'clock."