Chapter Text
December 8th
The bride’s eyes twinkled with a wistful gleam that could only be true love’s doing. As she walks towards her groom the aisles are lined with ivory and glowing antique brass candelabras, setting the mood with ethereal romance and wonder. Eucalyptus and stargazer lilies scent the air as Debussy fills the anticipatory silence, the night is overflowing with a picture-book-like ambience. The bride’s dress, an impeccably beaded Vera Wang mermaid silhouette–
“Wow. So this is what it’s like to watch a genius work in real time?” Harry’s eyes shift up from his screen as Teddy appears in the doorway, signature smirk on his perfect face, to Harry’s utter delight but simultaneously to his chagrin.
“Well, genius feels a bit off the mark. More like a master of procrastination to a terrifying degree.” Harry chuckled. He’d probably call it self-deprecating humor if it weren’t so true. At least he’s self aware.
“You do know there’s a Holiday party going on in the next room, right? What are you doing wasting your night at your desk typing away about hideous bridesmaids’ taffeta and ill fitting rented tuxedos?” Teddy laughs at his own joke and smiles that particular smile that makes him look so pleased with himself. Harry hates that he’s an absolute sucker for it.
“I’ll just file that under how not to write my wedding column. It’s more the symphony of champagne bubbles popping and the halo of purest love surrounding the bride that I’m focused on.” Harry gestures towards the screen. He knows most people around the office at the Gazette think the wedding column he writes is a bit of a joke anyway, although Teddy has never made him feel that way. Often asking him for help and notes on his own writing, Teddy has always seemed to value Harry’s talent. It always made Harry feel like maybe, to Teddy, Harry was more than just a slinger of fluffy wedding words.
“See? So much loveliness swirling around in that stunning brain of yours. How do you do it?” Teddy grinning at Harry fills his belly with warmth. Harry remembers when he thought that grin was only for him or would only ever be for him, and then he’d found out Teddy had been shagging one of their coworkers for a while and Harry decided they should end it. Teddy had assured Harry that someday he’d be ready to settle down and had hinted every so often that when the time came, it would be Harry who’d wear his ring…when Teddy was ready.
“Babe, I’m just not ready for that level of commitment.” Harry had hated the way it had sounded in his stupid American accent at the time, but maybe that was because it felt like his heart was being cut from his chest.
“I don’t know, Teddy, I just write what catches my heart.”
“Not your eye?” Teddy looked confused, Harry’s not surprised considering how he treated Harry’s heart around a year ago.
“No. My heart sees far more than my eyes ever could.” Harry’s eyes move down to his hands nervously fidgeting over his keyboard now. He chances a glance back up at Teddy to find his brow furrowed in what looks like a hint of worry.
Harry spent the better part of a year trying and failing to get himself over the breakup; including endless hours at Zayn’s crying and eating junk and trying to understand why. Finally he had just given up on the wound healing and resolved himself to pine away for Teddy, when Teddy had rung him and told him that he was dating someone. Harry was still waiting for the day when Teddy would look his way again with that look that could only mean that he was going to choose Harry to be his forever. The breakup had taken more of a toll on Harry than he thought it would. He still wonders why he wasn’t enough for Teddy and why Teddy wanted to shag other people and why he had this need to sow his wild oats before he could settle down with Harry?
Harry’d learned to live with the residual effects of Teddy’s rejection. A part of him seemed to always feel like he just wasn’t worth it. So he let Teddy continue to occupy his thoughts and his time. Still always answering his calls in the middle of the night where they’d spend time talking in hushed whispers for fear that Teddy’s boyfriend would hear. There was also the constant emailing and texting throughout their work days. Good thing their workplace never monitors that shit too closely. Occasionally Teddy would still call him for a drunken hookup and Harry wouldn’t hesitate to let him come over and fuck him senseless, only to be left alone in bed before the breakfast table was set the next morning. He knew he was stupid for continuing to allow it to happen, and that it was wrong. Not just morally, because Teddy was taken, but also to allow Teddy to take advantage of him like that. Some small part of Harry still held out hope that Teddy would come around when he was finally ready to settle down.
“Hey, I got you a Christmas present, babe!” Teddy’s eyes lit up with excitement, effectively changing the subject and bringing Harry out of his melancholy. Harry tried not to physically react to the term of endearment.
“Oh, funny you mention that, because I have yours right here!” Harry pulled the beautifully wrapped gift out of his desk drawer and fluffed the bow a bit before handing it to Teddy.
“Oh, well, I don't have it here. It’s on the way, I mean.” He takes the package from Harry looking guilty.
“S’alright, darling. I’m sure it’s lovely. Go ahead and open yours.” Harry tries to hide the disappointment that's creeping up in his throat, lest it spill over and out of his eyes.
Teddy starts tearing at the wrapping and pulls out the book Harry had gifted him.
“Where did you– H! It’s a first edition!”
“In that little bookshop we found when we were on holiday last Spring. I knew you’d wanted it for ages.” Harry smiles to himself when he sees the grin blooming on Teddy’s face. It gave him such a sense of validation and pride to know he’d put a smile that bright on the man he loves. Loved. He clears his throat. “Well, anyway. Happy Christmas, darling.”
“Merry Christmas, babe. Come and join the party, ok?” There’s a bit of something forlorn in Teddy’s voice as he repeats the endearment Harry had grown so fond of. No one else but Harry would’ve picked up on it.
“I’ll be right out.” Harry sits for a moment in the solitude of his office, Christmas music and quiet laughter faintly filtering in under the now closed office door.
Harry couldn’t help but feel a bit high after the exchange. Teddy always seemed to have that effect on him. It was like he was Harry’s drug of choice and his favorite way to get drunk. Harry didn’t quite understand what came over him when Teddy was around. When he was with Zayn and his other friends or with his sister, his resolve was so strong and he would vow with all his might to just never talk to Teddy again. But deep down he knew that, within the next month, Teddy would call him after too much tequila asking to meet him for a quick blowie in Harry’s office or to stop by Harry’s place to fuck him and that, of course, Harry would agree, because he just couldn’t let go of Teddy for some reason even he didn’t understand. Well, no use sitting here being a sad grumpy grinch about it when there’s free champagne in the next room!
Harry slaps his knees to motivate himself to rise to his feet and move toward the door and the inevitable awaiting assault of no doubt drunken colleagues that lie beyond it. He’s glad he smartened up his outfit before the party, changing into his black blouse with tiny white polka dots. He even left a few buttons open at the top to let his tattoos peek through, cementing the whole ‘I’m here to party not work’ aesthetic.
Harry straightens his blouse a bit to make sure the right bits are on display, takes a deep breath and turns the doorknob, already wincing from the Christmas cheer that’s inevitably coming for him. He thankfully spots Zayn almost immediately and makes a beeline toward his best mate, grabbing a glass of champagne off a tray and resisting the urge to bop to ‘Last Christmas’ along the way. The office is tastefully decorated with garland and ribbon and lights making the room glow with holiday spirit. Harry can smell the cinnamon and orange and cranberry radiating from the dessert table as he glides past it towards what he hopes is a warm hug and a kind word from his best friend.
“Saw him come from your office.” Zayn glares at him with his Judgy McJudgerson face on. Ok, so not exactly the greeting Harry was expecting.
“I just gave him his Christmas present. That’s all, I swear.” Harry holds his hands up, palms facing out in surrender.
“When are you gonna learn, H?” Zayn pinches the skin just above the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.
“Probably never.” Harry sighs. Zayn’s eyes turn soft at the admission.
“Hey, m’sorry, k? I still don’t know how you managed to stay friends with him after he fucking cheated on you. I just– hate that prick. He hurt you and that is unacceptable.” Zayn lifts a hand and wraps it around the back of Harry’s neck, rubbing his thumb back and forth over Harry’s carotid artery. The touch is soothing and Harry’s grateful for it.
“I know you do, Z, and I love you for it. You and I both know why I stayed friends with him.” Harry palms his face and kisses him square on the forehead. “Now, did I miss anything major?”
“Nah, normal Christmas shenanigans. Eating, drinking, making merry. Makes me want to puke.” Zayn mimics a gag as Harry laughs at him.
“Don’t be a Scrooge, it’s a turn off.”
Zayn waves a finger in the air. “Ahhhh, but Scrooge was a rich motherfucker. He could probably get some any time he wanted. Pretty sure he had something going on with Jacob Marley. Dickens aside, I’m not trying to pull at our office holiday party, this well has run dry.” Zayn and Harry’s eyes both surveyed the room carefully.
“You only say that because you’ve shagged all the fit copy editors, you slag.” Zayn was the one person Harry could tease to this level without them getting royally pissed off. Probably because they’d been best friends since they were boys and also because what he said was always true.
“I mean– ok, yeah you’re not wrong. I don’t know why but good grammar is such a turn on to me.”
“I’m surprised you never made a play for me as we both know my grammar is impeccable.” They both pause a moment and look at each other questioningly before they both shudder with disgust and shake their heads at the same time.
“You never know, though, the person of my dreams could drop out of the sky at any given moment.” Zayn looks upward like he’s waiting for it to happen making Harry laugh so hard he spits his champagne out. “I just want some Christmas cock.” Zayn whines. “I’d even settle for some holiday hoo-ha. Is it too much to ask for someone to jingle my bells?” They both nearly fall on the floor laughing until the sound of a glass being tapped with a fork brings them out of it.
Clink Clink Clink
Everyone turns their heads towards the base of the staircase where the sound originates. Their boss, Mrs. Thompson, is standing there with Andrew Frederickson, a content manager, who also happens to be the man that Teddy had cheated with and his current boyfriend. Harry doesn’t hold ill will toward him, after all, he has no moral ground to stand on considering…well, no need to compare sins, he guesses. In truth, he really does feel shit about the cheating, but in some sick way he feels like it’s allowed because Andrew had to have known about him while he was shagging Teddy behind Harry’s back. They’ve never had a conversation about it, obviously, Harry wanting to avoid that confrontation.
“Happy Holidays!!! We hope you’re enjoying this Yuletide celebration–” Harry tunes out the rest in favor of whispering to Zayn.
“You think Andrew’s leaving?”
“Nah, this job was bought for him. Why on Earth would he leave it? Unless…well, his family is super fucking rich, he probably doesn’t even need to work so maybe he is leaving?” Zayn whispers back.
“....Styles? Is he here?” Mrs. Thompson’s voice cuts through the crowd but Harry only catches the tail end of it.
What?
“Harry Styles?” Mrs. Thompson says again.
“Yes, I’m here.” Harry says waving a hand at his boss.
“Oh lovely! I’ve got a hot insider tip for you about an up and coming event for you to cover as I’ve just been made aware that two of our very own have recently become engaged to be wed! Shall we wish the happy couple well? Come on up, Teddy Matthews and Andrew Frederickson, so we can all give you a proper cheer!”
The room erupts with cheers and applause and pats on the back, meanwhile at the back of the room Harry can’t breathe and his entire body has gone cold. He does his best to hold himself upright, Zayn’s hand immediately finding his back to help keep him standing. His palms are sweating and he can’t quite help the way his face falls and his eyes start to well. It’s out of his control at this point. Somehow he locks eyes with Teddy who has joined his fiance on the makeshift stage with an arm around Andrew’s slim waist as he’s holding out his hand to show off his ring. Teddy’s all happiness and smiles until the moment his eyes fall on Harry. Harry does his best to smile back, but at this point he knows the tears are about to fall. If he can just make it through this fucking party and back to his house he can let himself grieve. He feels so stupid and naive and utterly humiliated. He shakes his head slightly at Teddy as if to say ‘Don’t worry about it, you’ve only shattered all my dreams and didn’t even have the decency to warn me’ before grabbing Zayn’s hand and giving it a squeeze as he turns to exit the room, Zayn following behind. He doesn’t even know where he sets down the glass of champagne because he’s truly out of his body right now.
“Z, I’m fine.” Harry says as he turns to Zayn once they’re safely in the vestibule.
“H, you’re–” Nope, Harry’s not doing this right now.
“I’m fine, it’s fine, everything is FINE.” Harry almost yells the last word at Zayn. He swallows hard. Stay the fuck in, emotions.
“But he’s–” Zayn tries again but Harry doesn’t want to hear any of it.
“It’s a good thing, Z. I can– I can let him go now. Finally get over it.” Harry knows he’s lying straight through his fucking teeth and he knows that Zayn sees right through him, but at this point he’s in survival mode and gaslighting himself is the best he can do.
“H, you don’t have to do this alone. Please, don’t do this alone.” Zayn is pleading with him, holding both Harry’s hands in his own. Harry loves him so much, but he can’t let his guard down until he’s by himself. He needs to just suffer through until he can get home to his safe space. Then…then he can scream and wail and drink himself into oblivion. Maybe set something on fire.
“Z, it’s fine. We haven’t been together outside the office in a year.” Lie. “Besides I’m basically over him.” Lie. “I haven’t even thought about him in weeks.” Big fucking lie. “I’ll be alright.” And that one might be the biggest lie of all. He just hopes he’s convincing enough for Zayn to let him get home so he can absolutely lose his shit in peace.
“Harry, you thought you were going to marry the guy. Don’t tell me you’re over him. We both know you’re not ok right now.” Zayn’s eyes pierce straight through Harry’s brain as he stares him down. For a person with such a gorgeous face and the most beautiful eyelashes Harry has ever seen, Zayn could take someone out with his intensely icy stare any time he fucking wants.
“Z…please– just let me– I have to get out of here.” Harry’s voice is barely a decibel above an exhale. His breathing is starting to speed up and his chest feels like there’s a force squeezing the very life right out of him. If he doesn’t get out of here and home soon, he’s going to crumble right here in the lobby of this goddamn building and it’s not going to be pretty.
Harry can see the moment Zayn realizes he just needs to be alone so he can mourn. “Ok…go, but I’m coming over tomorrow morning and we’re gonna talk this out, ok?” Harry doesn’t deserve Zayn.
Zayn kisses his cheek and sends him a worried look but he lets him go. Harry hurries to his office and grabs his things. He doesn’t pause or tarry at all as he bundles up in his coat and scarf. No, he’s not going to cry here. He trudges on toward the train, the streets of London lit by the moon and all the twinkle lights from the shops he passes. Hold it in. It’s just barely spitting snow onto him as he walks with his eyes cast downward on his steps. He thinks he must look rather lonely to the passersby. Keep it together. No, he’s not going to cry here either. His legs pull his body onto the train and into a seat where he sits and stares at the floor. He puts his headphones in with no music playing just to keep people at bay, practically begging them with his eyes not to talk to him as they filter off and on at the different stops. Don’t you fucking break. No, he’s certainly not going to cry on the train. He’s so tired and angry and heartbroken by the time he walks through his gate and up to the door of Cherry Hill Cottage. Now…now it’s time.
The key in the lock and turning the knob is all it takes for the tears to pool in his eyes again. Harry walks two steps through the door and drops his bag and keys right where he stands and falls straight to his knees with heaving sobs, yanking at the scarf around his neck as if it were suffocating him. He cries with his entire being, weeping from the base of his belly and out through his fingertips. At some point he shifts from kneeling to lie right there on the floor with his coat still on, knees folded into his abdomen, his fists held tight to his chest as tears fall steadily onto the entryway rug. He just… stays there. Letting it all out as sorrowful and heartsick sounds wrench themselves from his lips. Thoughts and questions are racing through his mind but he can’t even begin to try and answer them or sort through them. Tonight isn’t for answers, he thinks, no. Tonight is for pity and pathetic blubbers and whimpers. After a while his cat, Lizzie, comes around the corner to see what all the noise is about. Harry doesn’t even know how long he’s been lying on the floor in the fetal position, willing himself to be ok. Lizzie saunters over towards him and lies down with her back flush to his fists where they’re balled at his chest and starts flipping her tail up into his face. The motion makes Harry cry harder for some reason. After a few more minutes of letting his insides out through his eyeballs in liquid form, he reaches to pet Lizzie and starts talking to her. He says anything and everything he can think of, tells her all about Teddy and what happened at the party and how devastated he is.
The holidays are the worst when you’re sad and alone. It’s like everyone who’s together looks even more together to those who are licking their breakup wounds. Why is Christmas the worst time of the year to be single? Harry feels like not only is he single, but he’s pathetically single. He’s the kind of single that people write really sad fucking songs about on their ukuleles or their autoharps or any other obscure instrument those sad singer songwriter types play. Harry’s the kind of single that haunts you and makes you feel like you’re always missing something. People are always looking at you like you’re desperate to be married and have a family. It’s not that he’s not ok with being single, but he had put so much effort and energy into this future he was going to have with Teddy. He always pictured Teddy in his life and now…well, he feels a little lost. Merry fucking Christmas.
Once he’s all cried out and his face is crusty and splotchy, he gets up from the floor and heads into the small toilet off the foyer to splash his face with water. Harry surveys his red and puffy face in the mirror for a few moments, regretting ever laying eyes on Teddy. Why is it that when you’re in the midst of crying your fucking heart out you can’t resist the urge to go stare at yourself crying in the mirror? He reluctantly tears himself away from his reflection and walks to the kitchen in search of some liquid comfort, taking a bottle of brandy down out of the cupboard. He really does wish he’d never even met Teddy. Maybe if he’d never worked at the Gazette, or maybe if he’d been halfway across the world in some sunny climate enjoying a frozen cocktail and the ocean– wait a second. That’s actually not a bad idea. What if he– what if he went somewhere? Somewhere else. A trip. Just to get through the holidays. No pity looks from people, no agonizing Christmas dinner with his family and their questions about why he hasn’t “tied the knot yet”, no patronizing blind date setups from his friends. No sad sack of single Harry Styles, he could go somewhere warm and beautiful with hot oily men who could– HARRY, YOU GENIUS!!!!!! He puts the brandy back into the cupboard and puts the kettle on instead. No need to die of alcohol poisoning now that he’s got a plan. This could work! He’s really doing this. He sits down with his tea and pulls out his laptop to start searching for holiday destinations, clicking on the first link that returns when he types “Where do I want to go for Christmas?” What is this? Available for home swap? Interesting…
Harry pulls up the 'Make This Feel Like Home' home swap site and starts to sort through the prospects. A gorgeous tropical villa somewhere in Fiji? Or maybe a beach home in the Bahamas? Jamaica, ohhhhh, that could be nice. Finally, after scrolling for a bit he sees a listing entitled “GET ME OUT OF HERE”...interesting approach. He clicks on the listing and sees that it’s a gorgeous home in L.A. with a pool and a built-in recording studio. Wow, that’s…posh. Before he knows what he’s doing he’s clicking the little chat icon and sending a message to this Liam person in California.
H: Hello, I’m Harry. I saw your listing and I just have to ask why you want to leave so badly? Your home looks absolutely lovely! Is it infested with bed bugs or something?
Liam: LOL no, it’s just…my co-worker/best friend is driving me insane right now and I desperately need a break from him and from work.
H: Yikes! Well, I love your place. I’ve never done the home swap thing before, so could you kind of fill me in on how this works?
Liam: Yeah, so we just swap everything. Houses, cars, pets…you name it, bro. What’s mine is yours! There’s no need to exchange money since we both pay for our own travel and spending. Where are you located?
H: Oh, I live in a little village outside of London. It’s really beautiful. I’ll send you some pictures.
Liam: Harry, is it? I really don’t care, I just need to get away from Lou– like I said, I need a break.
H: Works for me, mate hahaha! Should we say three weeks, we can return for New Years?
Liam: Three weeks…yeah, that’ll be ace. So do you need time to get things in order? When should we say it starts?
H: Is tomorrow too soon?
Liam: …….
Liam: Tomorrow is Per-fect.