The Middle | Hemmings + Styles AU

37. instant star

This was a nightmare. The ultimate nightmare. It was like the boogie man and haunted ghosts and possessed dolls all rolled into one.

Aunty Peg was sitting on the opposite couch, next to Harry with just a mere few centimetres between the two of them. She was batting her eyelashes at him like she was twenty years younger and giggling - yes, fucking giggling - at his joke about a flower riding a bike.

She kept touching his arm at she spoke and gushing about his lovely accent . What made it all the more terrifying wasn't that Harry was trying to back himself into a corner away from her. No, he was encouraging her.

He was leaning into her touches, and laughing at her vivacious comments and flashing that dimple of his left, right and centre.

Meanwhile, I was sitting underneath a blanket watching the whole disturbing scene play out while clutching a bowl of soup - the one Harry had brought back. Aunty Peg's soup had made it's way to the fridge - and feeling my stomach turn over on itself repeatedly.

"Where about's in England are you from?" Aunty Peg batted her lashes.

"Cheshire." Harry flashed a dimply smile.

"Oh, well" - cue the arm grab from Aunty Peg. Her fingers wrapped tightly around Harry's mermaid tattoo. "You certainly have a cheshire cat smile.

"We're all mad here," Harry quoted, his smile growing. Aunty Peg leaned into the laugh and then looked over to me with disbelief. Oh, so she did remember I was still here.

"He looks like a model and quotes Lewis Carroll. Can you believe such a thing?"

Her face lit up, turning back to Harry who encouraged her with another Alice in Wonderland quote: "Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast!"

"Oh, stop it," she threw her hand playfully towards him. Stop what? I mouthed mostly to myself, seeing as though Harry and Aunty Peg were so wrapped up in their secret jokes. Don't get me wrong, if this was someone else's Aunt I would have been laughing hysterically. It would have been hilarious! 

But it wasn't. It was my Aunt and the boy I liked, and perhaps what made me most horrified was seeing Harry equally enamoured with Aunty Peg, and patiently allowing her to be her usual inappropriate self, and how that made a small part of my heart expand a little more. 

It made me like Harry even more.

I sat quietly for a while longer but finally had to interject when Aunty Peg asked if Harry had found yoga increased his limb flexibility. "I should probably get some sleep. I'll call one of you if I need anything. Thank you both for the soup."

A light turned on somewhere inside Aunty Peg's brain as she gave me an understanding nod. "Yes, you must get some rest." She glanced at her watch. "Goodness, is that really the time? You've let me talk your ear off." She pats the back of Harry's head.

"It was my pleasure," he beamed. I felt like I was about to be sick all over the couch.

"You'll stay and keep an eye on her then?" Aunty Peg nodded towards me and Harry nodded.

"What? No. I'm fine." This wasn't going to plan. I wanted to be alone. "I don't need looking after."

They exchanged a knowing smile and I knew there was no use arguing. Harry insisted on walking Aunty Peg to her car, an offer she half-heartedly tried to refuse before barely throwing me a wave goodbye. 

"What a lovely lady," he said upon walking back into the house. "She's even invited me to her next latin dance class." I let myself drown in the way he said dance like darrrnce.

"Since when does Aunty Peg take dance classes?"

Harry shrugged. "Can I get you anything else?"

"How about less embarrassing relatives?" I laughed, setting the empty styrofoam soup container on the coffee table.

"She's lovely."

"She's mad," I retaliated. Mad but lovely.

"We're all mad here," we said in unison, laughter following. Then with a huge smile on my face I added, "Stop making me laugh. It hurts my belly."

"Sorry," he said with a frown. Harry sat down on the other couch and snuggled his arms around one of the cushions. "Since I'm here, we really should talk."

I shook my head. "No talking. I recorded a David Bowie special last night. We can watch that?"

Harry smiled. "I'm an instant star. Just add water and stir."

I smiled back, grabbing the tv remote to turn the David Bowie special on, but as usual I was surprised by Harry's passion for music. Surprised by the beautiful man who was laying on the lounge, quoting David Bowie.

We watched the show in mostly silence. Every so often a low voice would emit from Harry as he sung along to Bowie classics. His voice was beautiful, enveloping every lyric with a raspy undertone. He seemed to know every song which shouldn't have been a surprise. 

"Have you ever thought about recording your own music?" I asked when the show went to an ad break. Harry craned his neck to look at me, slight embarrassment blushing his face like maybe he hadn't meant to sing in front of me.

"I'd like to write more," he said simply. "That's all, though. I don't belong on stage."

Yes, you do, I thought to myself. You could light up an entire stadium. "One day I'd like to start my own record label. A small, intimate, boutique one. Where I could double as a songwriter." His eyes lowered. "It's a bit out of the box I suppose, but I like the idea of cracking open preconceived ideas and using the pieces to build something new. You know?"

I knew. Every piece of me knew. Maybe I spent so much time focusing on the differences between Harry and I, that I often overlooked the similarities between us. Maybe I just never stopped to think that someone as normal as me could have much in common with someone as bright as Harry. 

Because he was right when he quoted Bowie earlier tonight: Harry was a star.