hariana drabbles

036

- Death of a Bachelor

Author: Me (2017)
Summary: Married life for long-time single guy Harry Styles took a while to get adjusted to, but once he finally does he embraces a change that many others are quietly opposed to. Finding that he has to justify himself to try to put an end to the judgement, he reflects on his relationship, nearly kills a kitten, proves his commitment, and pens a song hoping that people will understand how he feels about not being a bachelor anymore.
Note: Inspired by "Death of a Bachelor" by Panic! at the Disco. if you've never listened to the song or the album, go give it a listen before or after you read this one shot. You won't regret it :) Also, happy belated 1 year anniversary to this #1 grammy nominated album!

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This is it, Harry concludes, she's the one. She's going to be the death of me.

She's got a tight grip on his heart, and he can feel it whenever she's speaking, when she's laughing, and when she sings. She was love's iron maiden and he was her jailbird. Harry admittedly knew he was doomed the moment he allowed her to hold his heart in the first place, and now a saccharine death awaits him in the hands of his true love.

Papers, wrinkled and torn, surround Harry's usually empty desk. His lyricism is becoming too much for him. He never aims to sugarcoat his relationships, both platonic and romantic. He always wants them to appear as they are to him: gritty, flawed, harrowing, safe, and in the rare occasion, worthwhile. His current, and by far most inspiring muse has also been his worst.

The entity he creates for her comes from a place of love and admiration, and goes against his moral principles as a writer. In other words, he could write pages upon pages about how she changed his life, but he'd never get anywhere as an artist, especially on a deadline.

She enters his study. It's a small room they both decided when they purchased their home to reserve as a separate room for music purposes. Harry's still staring at the wads of paper in front of him when she comes in with his beer that he'd ask for five minutes ago.

"Hard at work or hardly working?" She asks and quirks an eyebrow at the sight of his desk.

"I don't know what I'm doing to be honest." Harry sighs. "They're all beginning to sound the same; the message, the story, their purpose. I'm blocked."

"Well, maybe for now, but I'm sure if you give yourself a moment to rest then revisit all of this," she gestures at his desk, "on another day something will come to you. Something you didn't see today you might find tomorrow."

She runs her fingers across Harry's forehead, hoping to see the furrowed middle relax and when it did she gave him a kind and reassuring smile. Harry feels her hand with his and pulls her closer to where he was sitting. Resting on the arm of his chair, she hugs him into her chest, feeling his hair between her fingers as she uses the leverage to kiss the crown of his head.

Harry's mind travelled elsewhere for the few seconds she held him. He recalls the first time she ever held him this way.

It was several weeks after she admitted that she was in love with him.

Harry fell in love too, but at the time his perception of that feeling was densely subjected to the feeling of being plunged into cold water: a sudden, sharp, awakening pain; an oh shït, not again sensation. At the time Harry wasn't ready for a relationship and he admitted it to her earlier on to salvage her nubile heart.

In those several weeks Harry became too busy. He was grieving. He had lost a lot.

He didn't have to ask her to show sympathy for him, she did anyway. She came over for the first time in a while and it was the first time they'd been alone since the last time she'd been over. She barely made it through the main hall before Harry completely broke down in front of her.