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summary: in which; Harry's wife, Caroline, adores the holidays; and he can never say no to his soft-spoken love.
trigger warnings: sexual content, mature themes.
word count: 13.5k
includes: husband Harry,fingering, nipple stimulation (female receiving), thigh riding, vaginal penetration, cock riding, written in third person.
based on: ♫ lover, taylor swift ♫
✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼
Some say that people write down what they fail to say aloud.
They express their feelings through smeared ink and scrawling handwriting. Pouring their souls out to anyone who would listen, the paper being the only one—absorbing each lost thought and unsharable promise. Any unquenchable desire or misguided realization, consuming people's minds like an open chasm as bleak and unending as the sea. Dark and clouded, similar to many people's minds, waves crashing against the coast of their reality.
Blurring the border between reality and nonfiction, seashells wash up and carve themselves into their sandy thoughts.
The never-ending pages which held the hand controller to their heart, tugging on its puppeteering strings whenever they realized they needed a new sheet, or a new pen—as their favourite one had run out of black, expensive-smelling ink.
They use the confidentiality of journals to protect themselves not just from others, but also from themselves. Putting their thoughts on paper not only helps them overtake, but it also makes their troubles tangible, a truth that they had been tormented by for months. They hide in the intimacy of it all, knowing that the writings are theirs and they are true, whether they disclose them or not.
Writing jumbled paragraphs, perhaps deprecating themselves or speaking their mind, allowing the abyss of journals to swallow their fears entirely. Never to see the light of day, most likely end up crumped in a garbage can. Out of sight, yet certainly, not out of mind.
And that is exactly what Harry Styles does—did.
He began composing letters when he realized the fact that he had no one else to speak to, had stuck. Sure, his mother and sister were the most important people in his life, albeit there's only so much they could comprehend in a young boy's life.
They could comprehend that he missed his father and that he wished his mother was happier; the heartbreak of them divorcing still hanging lowly over Anne's head, a dark and foreboding cloud blocking her usual sunshine. He knew it wouldn't go away any time soon, the storm fierce and emotion-filled, though he wished the rain would subside, perhaps disappear, for his mother's sake.
