I. L'instant [H.S]

XL

I once heard him say the only people to call him Ed were the important women in his life.

My first thought was to try to come out with the names of all the girls who'd call him by his second name before, but in less than a minute I knew there wasn't any women other than his sister, his mother and I. It was clear he was talking about me, because I knew him well enough and he was standing right next to me, talking with Sam, the bartender from the pub we used to go to all the time, while I talked with Alex and Mike about Martin's girlfriend at the time, Tara.

I knew it was crazy, but something told me he said it then so I could listen.

Harry's shoulder was pressed to mine, everyone around us would think we were a couple, he'd picked me up from my place and even though he didn't have to offer nor I had to ask, we both knew he was the one to take me home at the end of the night. No one else, just him. We'd come to every party together and leave it exactly the same.

That was our thing, a thing that quickly escalated to me leaving the door of my flat open for him so he could crash with me, no words exchanged, no need to explain. We knew what the other wanted, we knew that even though we'd spent the night stuck to one another, rarely leaving each other's side or taking quick glaces to one an other when we were talking with completely different people, we needed to be together for a little bit longer.

Everything came natural, effortless but there was always this tingling sensation in my chest, a strong sense of expectation and excitement that I just couldn't brush away whenever he was with me. I guess I was waiting for something, but I never actually got to say it or show it, afraid that whatever we had was just platonic or something made up in my mind.

All of this things go around in circles in my mind. I've barely been able to function properly in the last two days and that's because I have, quite dramatically late, come to the realisation that I've been lying to myself. That this attraction between Harry and I didn't just appeared out of thin air. It was born the moment I saw him at that dreadful party, only to grow at ridiculously large proportions in the following months.

Now, I've always been practical and quite cerebral. I rarely let my feelings get the best of me or control my actions, but ever since Harry came back I've been a wrecking mess. Whenever he's around I can't seem to control myself, either for better or worse, it's like all of the emotional hold I've always prided myself of having comes crashing down in wafers, which is too fucking scary.

So I'm doing what I never do, what I always tell myself is a bad idea and will only make people see I don't have my shit together as I'd have them believe.

Alex's flat is a converted warehouse with white walls, black railings, a mezzanine-turned-bedroom and a industrial-like kitchen. The rest is just canvas, paint and all sorts of art materials I'd never know the name of. He offers me a cup of tea and washes his hands thoroughly while the kettle boils, I simply stand against the wall, leaning my hip over the cold metal counter of his breakfast bar, sorting my thoughts out and hoping that what I'm about to tell him won't change his perception of me.

"So," Alex sighs, leaning with his palms over the bar. "You and Styles, uh?"

"What?" I whisper, feeling like my anxiety has maxed out by now. "I.. how did you know?"

Alex chuckles at my horrified expression. "Em, I think I know you well enough."

"Everyone seems to have that opinion lately." I press my lips together, running my hand through my hair. "Just tell me, am I that obvious?"

"You're not." Alex says in the most relaxed tone, waving for me to sit as he takes out two cups and a saucer. "We've been friends for years, you're like a sister to me and even though you don't actually show it, I know how.. concealed you can be."