aster extras

first fight

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"Harry, why aren't you talking to me?"

"Because I don't fucking want to talk right now, (Y/N)!"

Oh.

Now she wasn't expecting that. (Y/N) knows that sometimes when she gets a little insecure and can get a little overbearing with how clingy she gets to Harry. She doesn't mean to, really! She never felt comfortable with her parents growing up, so she never had the feeling of wanting, really wanting to be with somebody. So with the way things were with Harry, where she's never felt so comfortable with someone, she sometimes gets little overbearing. She's usually very good at hiding it; leaving it at longing little glances and holding his hand a little tighter when she needed him, and kissing him lightly on the cheek when they were in front of others. But today she figures she might have crossed a line she didn't know was there.

While (Y/N)'s summer was in full swing, Harry's just getting busier. Now all of these impulsive college kids and rebellious high school children had all the time in the world to spend money on things they don't really need nor want. Not only were his books full for the next few weeks to come, walk ins would come rushing in at any free moment he and any of the artists might have. Of course the business was good, and Harry was proud that his little passion project was still going so strong, but it gets stressful. When all of your creativity goes into creating art for others and nothing that really comes out of your own interest and vision, it gets hard to keep your head level. (Y/N) understands that and knows that sometimes Harry isn't ready to spill every thought he has as soon as he comes over, but today was also a tiny bit tough on her.

She knows it's nothing compared to running her own business, but sometimes when she's alone for too long (Sarah and Mitch had decided to go on a little vacation of their own, before they all started getting more serious about recording these albums Harry's apparently written), things get hard. Her parents hadn't made any effort to speak to her in months, and as much anxiety as they incited in her, it still hurt knowing that she hadn't even been moved out a year before they decided to forget about her. Nothing even on the last day of school, congratulating her on her final and getting through the year. They didn't even send a text letting her know that they had gallivanted off on a three week vacation to Spain, as she had to find out through facebook. It just hurt.

Through all of this, though, she knew she just wanted her Harry. He treats her so softly and carefully, and just everything she needed right then. So she waited all day for him to get off work and come to her apartment, and cuddle away every bad thought and doubt she had. And make out a little. Finally–finally–he had texted he was just about there. He seemed short in the text, but, then again, he was always very quick and to the point in his messages, so she thought nothing of it. When he knocked on the door and she opened the door to see him, she knew something was off. He didn't have any of his eyeliner on or his rings, his hair was pulled tightly back into a bun and the usual roundedness he gains when he's around her was absent.

He didn't act too different, just being a tiny bit more quiet than usual and not following her around as he usually does, but he wasn't outright rude. She talked to him; asking about his day, telling him about her's and even telling him about this zoo trip she wanted to make because one of the Rhinos just had a baby. He gave quick answers, nodding his head and awing at the right spots. It honestly reminded her of when they had met for the very first time and he had nothing he wanted to say to her. But she knew Harry; she knew her Harry, and just because he's quiet didn't mean he was upset or suddenly hated her and didn't want to be with her anymore.

So she asked him why he was so quiet. And he snapped. Harry never swears at her, so to hear him use the f-word with her, really hurt her feelings. Harry's given her a lot of confidence throughout their time getting closer together, and although she's not confrontational, she was able to express herself a little better. And she didn't like the way Harry had spoken to her.

She took a little breath, and took up the small amount of courage she still had after his outburst and spoke up. "H-Harry, please don't swear at me like that, again. You know I had a rough day."

"(Y/N), so did I. Can y'jus' stop please," Harry continued, his voice strained as he rubbed his tattooed fingers on his eyes.

(Y/N) huffed, not liking the way he undermined the exact problems she just told him she was going through today. "...I'm sorry if I made you upset, but I just need you to be nicer to me today. I know I don't have my own business or anything like you do, but my problem still matter."

All she received was an exasperated sigh in response. Harry rolled his head to the back cushion, the heels of his palms pressing into his eyes. (Y/N) waited for him to say something back, anything really. She at least apologized, even when she didn't think she had to, and he can't say anything back?

Harry removed his hands from his eyes, letting them flop on the couch cushions next to him. He sucked in a deep breath, his eyes still closed. "Not now, love, please. I don't need this right now."

"Okay," she squeaked, angry tears filling her eyes. She didn't say anything else as she got off the couch. Harry didn't bother to look as she left the living room in her own apartment, and went to her room to get away from this before she got anymore hurt.

She knows its hard on him, how busy he is and how he's not able to creatively express himself, but that doesn't mean he can treat her like this. He knows its not anything like most fights couples get into, as there was barely any shouting and she left before it got too intense, but they never fight. She doesn't really count the time he had raised his voice at her all that time ago as a fight, and this was the closest he's ever been to being mean to her since they came clean about their feelings. And it hurt. Harry was her soft place, the one place she knew she would be cared for and it hurt that he didn't care about anything she had told him.

She wanted to be alone.

(Y/N) thinks she got about seven minutes, tops, of lying on her bed alone before Harry followed her in.

It was a rare sight, seeing him so undone. He never shows how deeply he feels, aside from his affections for her. Everything–stress, anger, anxiety, sadness–was always wrapped up neatly in a little box, with no overflow or disorganization. But she could practically see the guilt, the frustration, and stress flowing off him like a river.

He didn't say anything as he crawled onto the bed next to her, flipping back the covers and wrapping an arm around her middle. He wiggled his face into the space between her shoulder and neck, planting little kisses on the skin not covered by her t-shirt. His fingers flexed against her side affectionately.

"M'sorry," he breathed onto her skin.

"Yeah? For what?" she pressed, not wanting to let him get away with this one. She wanted to hear the whole thing from him.

"M'sorry I wasn't talking to you," he started, pulling his head away from its burrowed home and propping himself up on an elbow to look at her, "And for swearing at you and shouting. I know y'had a rough day, and m'sorry I wasn't taking y'seriously."

Tears settled on her waterline again, listening to him apologize. She look to him, her voice wavering as she spoke, "Its okay. I know you had a bad day, too. I'm sorry I didn't let you relax."

Harry shook his head at her apology, moving to where he was laid atop her, with his forearms by her head to keep him up. "Let's jus' relax now, okay?"

Harry leaned down, spreading kisses all along her skin. She whispered an I love you into the space between them. Harry settled himself between her legs and relaxing just as he said, placing his lips anywhere he could touch. (Y/N)'s arms wrapped around his neck, keeping him down within kissing distance of her.

"I love you, too, s'much," his voice rasped against the skin of her jaw, the tip of his tongue lining along the bone for a second, "Can I show y'how much?"

He pulled back, letting her see his hooded eyes, feeling his grabbing hands, remembering his sponged kisses.

"Yes, please."

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