Ambition || Harry Styles

*44*

I wake up in my bed hours later, Harry's lips on my forehead as he tries to gently rouse me.

I fall asleep so easily these days, my body never able to get enough rest and my brain begging for a break now that it's had a taste of what it's like, catching up on years of mistreatment and pushing it far too hard.

"You need to eat dinner, love, c'mon, it's on the table," Harry whispers into my skin.

"Alright, give me a minute?" I croak sleepily and he smiles closing the door gently behind him.

Pushing myself out of bed, I catch a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror by my bed. My hair is a mess, my sweats that Katie went out and bought me for when I came home from the hospital, are sloppy on my slight frame and probably dirty. I had removed all my make up the second I arrived home from work and if I were Harry, I'd be running in the opposite direction from this hot mess standing here.

Part of me wants to jump in the shower, freshen up, brush my hair and put on some other clothes, but that sliver of me has become a dull light, swapped by darkness and instead I tuck my hair behind my ears and shuffle out to where that delicious smell is coming from.

Trudging out, I see Harry placing our plates at the table, he's found linens and scented candles somewhere, but I can tell he is halfway nervous as he waits for my reaction with wide eyes and his lips pulled to one side as his teeth chew the corner of his mouth.

My lungs fill with a drawn-out gasp and my nose tingles from unshed tears as I scan the apartment. It's spotless, the way I used to keep it and the feeling of relief rushes my body like a calming wave.

My washing is ironed and piled up neatly in a basket that sits on the edge of one of the couches, which have been placed in their rightful spots and the marks from chocolate and ice-cream have been scrubbed from the white fabric. The dishes that were scattered everywhere have been washed and put away and all rubbish cleared and discarded. By the smell of synthetic lemon in the air, I assume Harry has also mopped the floors.

For the first time in almost a year, my house feels like my home again and the feeling is almost too overwhelming to bear.

My chin trembles with emotion, my eyes welling immediately and I hear Harry curse under his breath as he darts towards my frozen body.

"Please darling, you're too beautiful to cry," he hushes as he pulls me into him, arms wrapped tightly around my shoulders and his hand resting protectively at the back of my head as I grasp the fabric of his t-shirt.

"You prefer it like this, yeah? I can put the couches back if you want?"

I nod with a sniffle, my voice cracking, "Yeah, I prefer it. Thank you, Harry."

"Was barely anything, just straightened up some furniture," he lies and wipes my tears with his thumbs.

He reaches behind me and pulls something from the table to hand to me.

"Here, put this on and we can throw that one in the wash," he points to the oversized top I'm wearing and I quickly turn around and swap it for my university sweatshirt he has had since the day he walked out of here wearing it.

It's warm and comforting and although nothing has ever felt more like 'mine,' it smells distinctly of Harry's cologne. He's been wearing it?

"Much better," he whispers with a smile as I tuck my hair behind my ear and I almost expect him to kiss me but he doesn't, instead taking my hand and guiding me to the meal he has prepared.

Pulling out my chair he quickly kisses the top of my head before jogging to throw my dirty sweatshirt in the washer and turning it on.

"You didn't have to do this," I mumble as he sits opposite me.