Tunes | Harry Styles

Tea and pages

"You were writing?" He calls out from the hall as I boil the kettle, preparing two mugs for each of us.

"Yeah, I was. It isn't completed at all yet, barely started."

I hear him hum in response. I take our mugs, walking into the living room. He was set on the couch, coat and blazer off - neatly beside him. I place the tea on the coffee table along with mine, sitting at the other side of the couch, recollecting my guitar.

"I hope I'm not interrupting you," He speaks aloud, elbows against his knees, fingers intertwined.

"You're not. And I think I may need some help to write this song. So far, all I got is our love is forbidden, we must stay hidden." I sighed, leaning against my guitar that lays upon my lap.

"At least you've got something than nothing. Have you found the right melody for it?" He scoots closer, grabbing his mug as he becomes intrigued. He blows onto the tea, his cheekbones defining further, lips puckered.

I cleared my throat, running my fingers over the frets, pressing my fingers on the second fret - making an A minor chord. I started humming a melody I've made earlier that morning, a bit self conscious as it were my first time being an open book about writing songs to Harry.

"Try the A without the minor, it'll sound sadder and more raw." He suggests, and I did. He were right, it suited the melody more. "Our love is forbidden, we must stay hidden," I quietly sang.

I then stopped, groaning lightly as I playfully smile. "I have no inspiration." I utter, holding the nape of the guitar, placing it beside me on the couch.

"There's an inspiration to everything, you just have to come to one thing and to another." He spoke, grabbing the guitar beside me, placing it over his lap.

"I'll play, you write." He nods his head, placing the mug back on its coaster.

I crossed my legs, taking my notebook - making sure some pages won't fall. I glanced at him through my loosened hair upon my bun, giving him a small nod. He plays the chords he saw me playing a minute ago, lightly strumming. As I count down the seconds, I write down a few lyrics whilst singing.

"Our love is forbidden, we must stay hidden from the crowd
I don't want to risk it
Trust me,
The way you place your heart upon someone's palm
Hold me,
The way you grip your past
Love me,
The way you love to be fooled
I will love you till my limbs will be roots
I will care for your wounds as if it were mine to fix"

I frowned deeply as words spills out of my now sour lips, my writing messed upon the not so blank paper sheet anymore. The guitar stops, and for a moment, silence speaks.

"Are you alright." He asks. I looked up, nodding. "I am, I just don't understand how I can write that when I haven't even been through that." I whisper, gently closing my notebook.

"Maybe you feel something that's already ahead of you. It'll come."

I frowned further, "what do you mean?"

He shrugs, "Or maybe you're too gifted with your words. Do not think about it, you're very talented."

"Thank you." I chuckle timidly, placing my notebook upon the coffee table. He places the guitar aside, taking his tea again. The soft air passes his lips as he blows the scorching liquid, shielding himself from the cold.

"Tomorrow I'll need you to come by my hotel, I'll have you picked up. You have to sign a contract." He speaks, taking a sip after as though he lost his breath from saying more than two words. "I'll be there," I say.

"May I ask you something, Harry?" I utter.

He lands his attention on me, eyes covering in curiosity from my words. He simply nods his head, sinking his teeth upon his bottom lip.

"What made you choose me to be your keyboardist?"

His figure relaxes, a soft sigh feathering past his lips. He gulps his throat, pressing his lips together as he ponders to answer my question.

"To be honest with you, I don't know. I really think that you're meant for this. You have a lot of talent. Sarah tells me you know drums as well. You know guitar and you mastered piano. You'll be a massive help. And I guess I wanna be selfish and keep you."

"Selfish?" I repeat his recent wording, raising a brow.

"If I were you, I would've been a solo artist. And now looking at you, you write songs too."

I blushed small, tugging my hair behind my ear in a timid matter. "Thanks, Harry."

"No problem. You'll be great on stage with us, it'll be fun. We'll work on the upcoming album, I'm planning to call it Fine Line. And I'm very critical when it comes to song writing. But I wanna see you write as well with me, maybe we can write songs together."

I tried my best to catch my breath within ease. He wants to see my song writings as well? "I'm sure I'd love that..."

He smiles, the winkles forming at the corner of his eyes, his dimple sinking upon his cheek and his teeth effortlessly complimenting every features of his.

"Good, I'll see you tomorrow. Say around one?" He stands up, slipping on his blazer, tugging the front to tighten the material around his broad frame. He takes his coat as well, simply carrying it.

"I'll be there." I say, collecting the mugs. I walk off to the kitchen, placing them on the sink. His steps echoes lightly on the wood. I made my way out to the front door to walk him out. He steps out on the hall, turning to face me.

"Thank you for the tea and for allowing me inside your room."

I laughed wholeheartedly at his words. Sometimes I really think he has time travelled from the past to this era at how he is so disciplined and well mannered. A man with a mind and respect.

"You're welcome. Thank you for your time and for my purse," The smile doesn't leave my lips.

He just nods, muttering a bye before striding his way down the hall. He slowly disappears through the tall walls, his figure fading away.

I shut the door quietly as if I were gonna disturb the moment that was here just awhile ago. I tidied up the couch, taking my pen. My hands grasp my notebook but before I shut it, I see a torn paper at the corner. I take it, seeing a messy - cursive handwriting.

"Don't curl your fingers upon your palm in fear, My Dear, we'll be okay.
H."

My cheeks raisen slightly, caressing the ink over the rough paper, almost hearing the way the pen scrapes on the rough sheet. I slowly press my fingers upon my palm, gasping softly as I realize those were the exact words he's written.

I softly sigh, plopping back on the couch as I reread the letter Harry left for me.

Softly I spoke, "Give me something to fear."