Kiwi

Part 1

Walking down this hallway for the first time in two years feels a bit surreal. This place was practically my home for the six months we were together. I feel this strange sense of unwelcome nerves walking down the hallway. It crosses my mind that I could just turn around now. I could text him, say "something came up, and I can't make it" or come up with a dramatic lie like he used to at the end of everything, just flake, some of his own medicine... I can't do that to him. As much as I want to hate him for how things ended, I couldn't treat him like he doesn't matter, he's always mattered, always will.
I stand in front of his door, too afraid to knock...
Suddenly the door is swinging open and I gasp, surprised by the movement.
There he is, in all his glory.
My eyes immediately drop to the floor, staring unnecessarily at the frayed edges of his pumpkin orange high waisted, corduroy bell bottoms. He always finds the coolest pieces, but these pants in particular I remember finding in a small vintage shop in Greenwich Village almost three years ago. I was so excited when I found them, knowing he was always on the lookout for cool things like them. I decided to stop being a baby and actually look at him, For real, for the first time in a year.
I hear him chuckle a bit as I look him up and down and land on his beautiful smile.
"Hey y/n, you look good" he says with another chuckle, grabbing me by the hand and pulling me into the unusually small apartment he for some reason still has after all this time.
"Styles, you look wonderful, as always." I laugh falling into the tiny entrance after him, my nerves immediately being shoved aside by the giddy feeling that Harry carries with him.
"I've missed you y/n," he says looking me up and down as I had him earlier "I really, really fucking missed you." He pulls on his lip and I can't help the way my eyes get stuck to the giddy smile he is attempting to stifle.
"I really really fucking missed you too, I mean it, I don't know how I've made it this long without seeing you, can't let this happen again, Styles." I say grabbing his hand and playing with his fingers absentmindedly like I used to, it feels different now, like a peek into a time capsule.
"You say that now, and then you'll get all busy again and I won't see you for another year." He says looking down at me, using his free hand to pick some lint off the mint green sweater I'm wearing.
"Well I meant to hang out a bit before bringing that up, but we actually have to talk about what I've been doing since we last saw each other..." I say dropping his hand and wrapping my arms around myself, feeling the need to become as small as possible. I'm not used to feeling this way around Harry. He is one of the few people in the world that makes me feel safe enough to take up as much space as I do. However, I am very aware that with this conversation could come the end of that safety.
"Okay, I feel a little nervous about the way you said that, you're all serious now, but you know, you can tell me anything. No judgment, I've always just wanted to be here for you, you know that." He says, leading us to his insanely comfortable, cream colored sofa. We sat, and I tried my best not to roll my eyes at the sincerity in his voice. I know he's trying to comfort me, but sometimes this man is too good for anyone's sake.
"I appreciate that, but I also know that I've crossed some lines here while trying to protect myself and I think you're honestly going to be pretty fucking angry with me. I hate myself a bit for this, legitimately hated myself for a while for doing this to you, but I didn't know what else to do." I ramble a bit, knowing that I've probably done one of the few things that could make Harry hate me. I know that he's saying he could never, but this little voice in the back of my head is telling me the opposite and I can't help but listen to that familiar voice. I still feel awful for keeping this secret from him,  but I just needed time and space to handle things on my own before bringing other people into this, literally not even my own family knows about this, just my best friend and his partner.
"Y/N, just tell me. Whatever it is, we can work this out together." Harry says earnestly looking into my eyes and grabbing my hands. I know he truly believes that, but I know for a fact this thing has crossed so many lines and boundaries, there is no way we will be the same after this conversation.
"Harry, I um.... I" I take a breath preparing myself for the worst. I pull my hands from his and place mine on either side of his face. I look in his eyes for what I think could very well be the last time and I place a lingering kiss on the corner of his mouth like I used to do when we would say long goodbyes, I know he is catching on to the gravity of the situation when I hear him take a sharp intake of air and let it out. He places his hands over mine and looks me in my eyes again, he is so sad, sadder than when we broke up, sadder than when we last saw each other a year ago, he looks a bit broken. I knew this would be hard, but damn! "Harry, uhm" I clear my throat of the massive lump that grew, and hold onto his hands for dear life. Harry has been my lifeline since I met him, and I'm terrified that this will fundamentally change how he feels about me.
"Baby, I need you to say it, you're scaring me..."
"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, I didn't want to do this like this, I had this plan, fuck. It doesn't matter, uhm, so you know the last time we saw each other..." I started trying to be gentle with my wording, knowing that this was gonna suck, especially for him.
"Yeah baby, the last time we saw each other was kind of a big day." He says looking at me gently that sadness is still very much present in his eyes.
I nod, kiss his knuckles and try to remember the speech I practiced in the Lyft over here. "It um," I take another deep breath. "the abortion...I didn't go through with it, I couldn't go through with it" I say deciding to just rip off the bandaid. His face turns incredibly quizzical as he processes my words. "I should have told you. I know that, I know that you would have wanted to know that I decided to keep the baby and I know you would have been so good, you would have been wonderful, but I was just so depressed and angry and dysphoric and I didn't know how to tell you. I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." I take a deep breath and finally look at Harry. At some point looking in his eyes became too much, and I preferred to stare at the tiny tattoo on my thigh that you can see through one of the holes in my jeans. I remember getting that tattoo, well barely. It was drunken night with Harry maybe five years ago, it looks surprisingly good for the state we both were in.
Harry grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath...
"So, we have a baby?" He asks tentatively holding my jaw, knowing the second he lets go I won't be able to meet his eyes. He knows me too well. He knows I can't handle conflict of any kind, especially not with him, not anymore.
"Yeah... we do..." I smile for a second thinking about our beautiful little baby. "Their four months old in a week and they have your eyes and your smile and I'm so sorry I've kept them from you, you deserve better than that, I just got so protective of them and so scared of being hurt, I wouldn't have been able to handle it if you were upset with me back then, but I'm good now, like really good. I'm a good parent, I know I never really wanted to be one, but I'm good at it. I just, when you called the other day I realized how incredibly selfish I had been in not telling you and that you deserved to know and they deserve two parents if that's something that you would want to do. To be, if you want to be a parent... I'm sorry I've given you like no time to process." I finally shut up and try to read Harry's face. To my surprise he doesn't look angry. He looks very neutral, as if I hadn't just dropped this huge bomb on him.
"Y/N," He starts, taking my hands again. "I knew you had a kid, or a baby. I knew the timing was weird and so I didn't reach out because honestly I was a bit hurt and also very angry that you didn't want my kid, but did want someone else's so selfishly I am feeling a bit of relief right now. I was angry for a while, but I don't hate you. I could never hate you, baby." He smiles at me and rubs his thumbs on the palms of my hands he is still holding.
"You knew I had a kid..." I don't know how to react to that, I don't know how to feel knowing that he knew some of what was going on and didn't reach out. Harry loves kids more than anyone I know. I feel a bit weird knowing he didn't want to meet my kid just because he didn't think they were his.
"I've been keeping track of you, saying that out loud sounds creepy, but I couldn't just not know if you were safe or okay. I had to make sure you were okay." Now he looks scared, and honestly he should be. A year ago I would have blown up on him, completely lost it. Now, today, I am so grateful that I'm not losing him and that he does still care about me. I can't be mad about the invasion of privacy, although I know I will be later.
"I want to be mad about whatever keeping track of me means, but I'm too grateful that you don't hate me to be angry with you."
"I promise I didn't do anything insanely creepy..." he said, confidence waning as he continued to speak. "I mostly just made sure you were safe, taken care of." His eyes left mine, and I can't blame him. I know how protective he can be over me and I am definitely aware of how my own stubbornness and self reliance would get in the way of him looking out for me during our time apart.
I clear my throat to get his attention and wait for his beautiful rosemary eyes to meet my own, much darker irises. "I have no room to judge, I wish I had been able to keep better track of you over the last year."
After that we catch up on all things not baby related. We talk about work and friends and I ask about Gemma and Anne and he does me the great favor of not asking about my own mother. We talk about the music we've listened to and shows we've watched and even rant about the stupid things happening in American politics. It feels like time has given me my old friend back. We feel good again, how we felt years ago, before everything got messed up and feelings got involved. Only now I notice when his focus flickers down to my lips, my heart races when his hand rests a little too high up on my thigh to be considered platonic, and I assume he recognizes the way my breathing hitches when his hand flexes or the way my eyes stare at the exposed bits of his chest and forearms a beat too long.
Everything is the same, and everything has changed.