Rain | Harry Styles

4.3

'just as long as my blood keeps rushing, i don't care about the repercussions.'

(repercussions - bea miller)

-

A.

I couldn't bring myself to hum along with the lyrics, only absorb them as I lay back on my comforter, my sweater sleeves providing some kind of entertainment. I clicked my tongue quietly as the record ended, standing up to lift the needle. I did so, replacing the disc with another, sending a glance out of the window at the pouring rain. Another beam of lightening struck the ground nearby, as thunder continued to sound, and the first note played from the record. I pulled my hair from the ponytail, letting the curls fall over my shoulders  as I shuffled into my window seat. I brought my knees to my chest, tugging on my leggings at the ankles, as I watched the rain carefully, finding great fascination in the downpour. 

I wondered if Harry was doing the same right now, or if he was even thinking about me at all. I was pretty sure I'd blown it for good with how stupid I'd acted, especially in telling him I was with Luke - but I certainly hoped I hadn't. Now more than anything, I hoped Harry didn't hate me, and somehow still wanted me. Though unlikely, it was that I know longed for. 

I knew my parents would always be an obstacle for us to face, and though I'd like to think I was beyond the point of longing for their approval, but as my parents - there would always be the part of me who wanted them to approve of who I was with and the choices I made - but I could no longer let that define a thing - I wanted them to accept Harry and the fact that I loved him, and I wanted them to give Celia her job back, or to at least offer it. 

I stood up hastily, heading towards the door of my room and swinging open without missing a beat, heading down the stairs into the living room where I knew my parents would be sitting before they went to sleep. It was near eleven, and as expected, they sat in their typical chairs with a drink in hand as they talked about some boring topics.

"Mother," I spoke as soon as I entered the room, cutting off whatever conversation they'd been having as she shot me a glare.

"Anastasia, your father and I were having a conversation-"

"This is important," I argued, nervously fiddling with the hem of my sweater, "I need you two to listen to me - please."

"What is it, sweetheart?" my dad butted in, silencing my mother as I shot him a grateful smile.

I chewed on my lip for a moment, shifting from foot to foot, before just blurting out, "I love Harry."

My dad's face fell, and my mother's gaze hardened as the words left my mouth - but they stayed quiet.

"I know, you thought it would stop, since so many months have passed - but I love him. You sent him away, as well as Celia - and all that did was fuel it. I love him so, so much, and I know you think I don't, and I know you think we're just messing around, but you don't know him, and you don't know us. He is so, so incredible, and yes - he's made his mistakes, but he would never, ever purposely hurt me. Harry has treated me better than anybody else has, and he has loved me like nobody else has. I've never been as happy as I was when I was with him, and I don't need you to fully support it, I just need you to understand it. I need you to know that I won't get past it, I won't be happy again, unless I'm with him. I know you disapprove of him, but you shouldn't because it shouldn't matter how much money he has, what his background is, or what he's gone through - what matters is who he is, and who he is to me," I exhaled, having ranted for several minutes now as they both stared at me in shock, "and he loves me. He really, truly loves me, and I just want you to accept that."