Art | Harry Styles

23

Harry crosses one leg over the other, smoothing his hands over the black checked fabric of his trousers, his heart racing excitedly as the clock nears 9. He's already in school - early - for his 9am class on this windy, bitter Wednesday morning. 

His dark red sweater sleeves are pulled down over his hands in their typical fashion, the tiny, bold, cross tattoo visible against the hem, his ring-clad fingers drumming against his thigh. His bag is at his feet, and the classroom is practically empty, only a pair of students in the corner arriving early to work a little more on their project, presumably. Sophie and Harry have it under wraps, fortunately - the pair are certain on each of their individual pieces, incorporating each other into them to meet the guidelines provided for the project.

His fingers reach up to fumble with the cross attached to the silver chain around his neck, a small smile playing on his lips as he waits for her to arrive. Though it's after class that the fun really begins; her arrival is enough to kickstart his day.

As if on cue, the door swings open - a few students swarm into the room as the clock strikes 8:58, and as they take their seats, they wave 'goodbye' to somebody trailing behind them, seemingly rather unbothered by the topic of their conversation. Harry catches her flashing them a smile in return, waving a 'goodbye', and turning her attention to the curly-haired boy who's been waiting for it. 

"Hi," she smiles, walking over and taking the seat beside him, setting her own bag down.

"Hi, angel," he says softly, his own grin never faltering as she leans over to briefly press her lips to the smooth skin of his cheek. They tint a warm shade of pink, his green eyes fixated on the girl next to him as she leans back to settle into her seat. He turns his head, his index finger brushing hesitantly under Sophie's chin as he inches a little closer, lips almost brushing as he goes to declare, "H-"

"Hey, Harry!" a squeak sounds from his right, and his eyebrows furrow slightly, as a slightly amused look overtakes Sophie's features, Harry's hand moving slowly from her face as his own expression falls, an inaudible sigh falling from his lips. He turns his head, distancing himself a little from Sophie, the moment ruined.

"Hi, Layla," he responds, chewing on his lip as the thumping in his chest returns to normal, his nerves attempting to calm themselves from the near-kiss. "How are you?"

"I'm good," she giggles, and Harry can swear he hears Sophie mutter something he can't repeat under her breath. "How's your project going?"

"Great, actually," he says genuinely, glancing at Sophie before turning his attention back to Layla, wishing he could go back to staring at Sophie for a little longer. 

"We should totally catch up after class," Layla twirls a piece of hair around her finger, as Harry can't help but frown, confused.

"Catch up on.. what, exactly?" he remains as polite as possible, "I actually have to-"

Michael walks in, the bell ringing throughout the room as he sets his papers down on the table, straightening up to address the class. Thankfully, Layla is silenced by his arrival, as he begins discussing the assignment. 

Harry sneaks another glance at Sophie, a silent chuckle leaving her lips at Harry's overly-kind reluctance to tell Layla - as she would - to 'shut the fuck up', as Harry's own lips twitch.

He leans over, his lips brushing over Sophie's ear in a way that makes her wonder if he secretly knows what he's doing, whispering the two words he'd been aching to say to her for the past few minutes, prior to the rude interruption. "Happy Birthday."

She looks down at her lap, a grin breaking out onto her face. Class runs slightly short, due to the fact that they were already immersed in their own projects, and all they needed were simple reminders on the guidelines and whatever else. Class finishes at 9:30, rather than the typical 9:45, and Harry's leg is shaking upwards and downwards in anticipation as he goes to stand up.

"Do you have plans today?" he quickly picks up conversation with the girl he truly wants to speak to, before Layla can insert herself. Sophie raises an eyebrow in response, and Harry nods, "Good." 

He grabs her hand, lacing their fingers together and racing out of the room. A surprised burst of laughter leaves Sophie's lips, his long legs moving slightly faster than hers as they race down the steps and out onto the crowded sidewalk.

"Where are we going?"

"Well, first, breakfast," he grins, looking for approval in her gaze, "you never eat before class, do you?" He already knows the answer, as she shakes her head. Only briefly had she ever mentioned that to him, and she's amazed he remembers such small details from their conversation.

They begin walking down the street, their hands still clinging onto one another's before Harry quickly tugs Sophie to the side, sheltered from everybody hurrying down the street.

Sophie frowns, puzzled. "What are you-"

"Okay," Harry breathes, almost mumbling to himself in search of composure, "in short, this may have been the best idea I've ever had, or the worst. Honestly, I'm kind of hoping it's the former, but-" he pauses, silencing his own rambling.

Sophie's silent as she watches him swing his bag around to his stomach, opening it and digging around in search of the small box, fitting perfectly into his smooth palm.

"Harry.." she trails off, eyes softening as his fingers curl over a tiny velvet box, black in colour with a - slightly poorly- tied bow looped around the edges, "You didn't have to get me anything."

"'Didn't have to' doesn't equal 'didn't want to'," Harry points out, grinning as he slips the box into her hands, "open it. Go on!"

A soft laugh leaves Sophie's lips as her fingers fumble with the bow, loosening the ribbon and allowing her thumb to curl over the lid of the box, opening it slowly.

She eyes the contents of the box, eyes shifting to land on Harry's own hands before her, confirming that yes, indeed, the antique piece on his right-ring finger matched the one in the box she held in her hand. 

Sophie lifts up the ring, the rose shape carefully engraved to match Harry's. "You didn't.."

"I did," he continues to grin, "is it okay?"

"Okay?" she asks, practically throwing herself into his arms, catching him by surprise before his arms wind around her waist, "it's so amazing; you're so amazing, I- Thank you. Thank you so much. This is the sweetest thing.." she trails off, at a loss for words at the thoughtfulness, the simple regard he had for her. 

He exhales in relief, his face burying into her hair as he holds her, "I'm so glad you like it," he murmurs, as she pulls back, the ring still in her hand.

"I love it," she tells him, "you're an angel, Harry Styles. A real life, fucking angel."

He giggles, and Sophie has to refrain from kissing all over his face at the sight of his flushing cheeks.

"Put it on then, love," he tells her, as she slips it onto her right ring finger, mirroring the way in which Harry wears his.

"Thank you," she repeats again, their hands intertwining and swinging playfully back and forth in the space between them. Her head tilts up, their lips connecting as Harry can't stop himself from smiling against her mouth, his hands tightly squeezing hers.

His eyes remain shut for a second or two after they've broken apart, a look of content overtaking his green irises. "Breakfast, then?"