I Want To Write You A Song

Which Language

(AN: Translations in comments for all of the other languages.)

I was correct in my assumption from the night before, and my suspicions were confirmed when I finally opened my eyes, rolled over and checked my phone. It was 7:12 in the morning, and I'd missed his message from 6:17.

Hey, it's Harry. I was thinking about dinner. How does tomorrow night at 7:00 sound?

Oh, sorry, I've just woken up. It sounds perfect actually. Where do you want me to meet you?

Oh, actually, I can just pick you up. I know your address now, so I'll just park outside.

Okay, I'll see you then.

See you tomorrow.

With that, I got up and walked down the street to that lovely studio. To my family. It was starting to get warmer. The weather finally allowed me to feel something other than cold. It's only mid March, but it's still colder than usual, which only means this summer will be scorching. Nonetheless, I walk into the studio at 7:45, a little later than usual, but it's the weekend and the last few weeks I've gotten everything organized. To be honest, the only work I REALLY had to do was basic housekeeping stuff. Unlocking and locking doors. Cleaning the rooms, making sure food was restocked, making sure all of our tech was ready. And all of that I had done lathe night before, so I just simply unlocked the doors, turned on everything and put water out.

I was finished and walking over to my office when I heard laughter ring through the hall behind me. I smiled to myself when I heard Harry call down the hallway.

"Ah, Sophie! Ma personne! Bonjour!" He walked over to me, the others walking behind him in suit, as I stepped aside to let them through, but Harry wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I was startled at first. This was a step I didn't know we were going to take. Just the random hugs. I didn't mind it of course, and I found myself returning the favor. The band behind us, walking down the hall into the studio, leaving us alone.

"Non so il francese, ma ho una minorenne in italiano. Buongiorno anche a te, Harry."

"Is that italian!?"

"Sì, sonó quasi, fluente. I'm almost fluent. I struggle with some words, but I've been told by Italian friends of mine that I could walk through Italy without being thought of as a tourist. Now about French, why aren't we speaking in English this morning?"

He laughed at my question, shaking his head. "I haven't spoken it in a little while, and Mitch said I thought I'd forgotten most of it. I told him he was wrong and he said, alright, speak to Sophia in French, so I did.

"Oh quince sonó solo qualcuno su cui scommettere?"

"No, no of course not! It was just—"

"Harry, calmati, calm down. I'm only teasing. I think that's quite funny actually."

"Oh."

"It's alright Luce del sole."

"Sunshine?" He asked teasingly.

"Yes, quite fitting don't you think? Harry Styles you said it yourself, you're so golden. About someone else, yes but you are the true golden one. You shine bright and everyone sees it."

"Merci, you know maybe we should continue the foreign language conversation for another time, my head is starting to hurt trying to translate between the three."

I laughed at him, shaking my head, gesturing my hand down the hall towards the studio, walking back the other way to my office, pausing outside for a moment to watch him wave at me.

(AN: I'm sorry for another filler but I had this idea and I thought it would be so cute. The date, sorry dinner is the next chapter. I'm editing it right now).