Sweet Creature * {h.s | AU}

FIVE.

"I am not saying that comics aren't good," you said, "It's just –"

"It's just fictions are better. All about the romance and shit."

You gasp sounding offended and madness filling up the exhaled air, "how dare you, Styles!"

It was the same old routine, the same old meaningless flirting. You were tired of it, not Harry, of course, but the still and unmoving relationship you have with him. It's like being stuck in an elevator for days with no ups and downs. It is almost a month now, and there is nothing beyond pointless flirting and touching and low seductive voice. You almost asked him out on a date because the slow torture of not going anywhere was unbearable. Even if you respect the teasing and take-things-slow, it felt like you didn't need it in this.

He laughed, the angelic sound vibrating its way into your ears, "I was wondering if you would tell me more about you. Your full story that I have missed out on a lot . . . ," and he looks up at you with his head still hung low, and the magic of seducing was all gathered in his green-blue eyes that rolled upwards to stare at you, "over a date."

And the fireworks and canons started blasting from the background in your mind. Slow music of 'hallelujah' started playing and the day has finally arrive. It was cliché, but that's what you saw, I your head.

You didn't want to give him the knowledge of your desperate yearning for this day's arrival, so you act casual, which normally you'd fail to pull an act of. "Sure," your voice came out shaky, "but nothing fancy though."

Harry chuckled lightly to himself, "what do you say around 7 something? In a place that is not fancy," he said, making the 'is not' to pop out of his sentence.

"Yes!" Your heart starts clopping at the thought of a date with this beautiful man in front of you. A date. With him. Just imagine how that would feel. With only the both of you, under a dim light lit with only candlesticks. And the both of you talking your night away of how wonderful the universe would write the story of you two as it is. And just by the thought of it makes you feel much more alive already.

"Someone's excited," he said, "well then, it's a date. Just drop down your address so I'm not taking some old granny to the date."

"It could be a hot lady."

"Then I got the right house."

And of course, a big deal like this is not something you can hide from your gay-roommate, and his reaction was exactly how you imagined it to be.

"Holy mother of an infant child," his face was all so lit up, and you were pretty sure this is how the sun would look like up close.

It was both exciting yet unbelievable at the same time, because you are getting a date, with the dreamiest man whom is to your belief, –and your roomie's – the most hottest guy on Earth.

"Oh, honey, I am dolling you up tonight." He did this raised-and-wiggled-eyebrows which is a sign for his mischievousness. The kind when you know you're going to wake up with a moustache doodled on your face along side with some shit and penises. But this mischievousness is sending you some good vibes.

You grinned at him because you are thankful for his existence, and you realized that you would date him if he is straight and into pursuing women. "Okay, but nothing fancy, because it isn't a fancy."

He walks over to your closet and opening up the door, he turned his head back and said, "every first dates are fancy, sweetie. It would still be fancy even if you're eating tacos on the curb. Because if you really love them, the surroundings wouldn't be what you're staring at."

Harry arrived at six fifty, with a well-dressed attire, (button down shirt, of course) and a small bouquet of flowers that looks like it was plucked from someone's yard. "My lady, ready for an amazing night?" His eyebrow was quirked up in a perfect arch. And you were conceived that only Harry Styles can do that.