harry styles blurbs

sunflower vol.6

harry misses your special vday dinner and makes up for it with a surprise

word count: just under 2k?

warnings: swearing, little bit of angst with some good old british insults, redeemed by some fluff and sweet pastries

You loved Harry with every inch of your heart; it took a lot for you to get angry at him because he was constantly just raising the bar with everything he did. He wouldn't ever purposely ditch you or miss plans, he respects you too much to do that.

He wouldn't. So that's why you're trying not to react when he's nearly half an hour late to your dinner reservation, and you're dressed to the nines in a posh restaurant by yourself. The waiter has circled your table nearly five times and each time you have to politely tell him that you're expecting someone, that they're just stuck in traffic.

"That son of a bitch better be protecting London with the Avengers at this rate." You mumble, whipping your phone out of your little handbag and clicking it on, seeing no replies or calls from Harry – apart from a short-hand text saying 'b ther soon xx'...which you assume he'd typed in a hurry.

You'd be worried about his whereabouts if you didn't see his little contact photo of him sleeping coasting down the road on Find My Friends – which he'd suggested you both get one time after you'd gone on a night out and had no service in a club, returning home to a frantic and emotional Harry who'd thought you had gone missing.

The front door of the restaurant flew open and you lifted you head in a start, and there stood Harry, looking windswept and slightly wide-eyed as he spoke to the Host. He rakes his hands through his hair as he talks, gesturing with his hands. You rise from your seat and give a pathetic wave, and he grins, stalking towards you. The host behind him looks frustrated as he talks to another waiter, pointing in your direction.

He fiddles with his satchel on his shoulder and keeps his hand pressed to it cautiously.

"Hey sunflower, I'm so sorry I'm late I—"

You shake your head and straighten the skirt of your expensive dress you'd found specifically for tonight. Harry stops dead in his apology and watches you carefully. You raise the rest of your wine to your lips and down it before rising from your seat.

"What- where are you going?" He fumbles, and it takes everything in you not to cave and hug him, knowing he most likely wouldn't do this out of malice. You can't help the weight in your chest though...he was late to your Valentine's dinner.

"Home. Looks like we're about to get fucking chucked out anyway because I've held this table for too long and not ordered. Are you coming with me then?" You say coolly. You were never one to cause a scene and definitely not about to start a blazing argument in the middle of this restaurant in London before you heard the grovelling Harry had to do.

By the time you'd got in a taxi and arrived home, or Harry's house, you were at boiling point. On the ride over he'd tried to fumble an apology over and over, and it increased your upset by tenfold. He sat quietly for the rest of ride home, peering into his satchel every now and then, but you barely batted an eye.

He flinches as you chuck your house keys on the side with force, rounding the island to stand and look at him with a face of stone.

"Wanna tell me why you left me sitting there like a dickhead whilst you were out with your sodding mates, then?"

He looks sheepish as he stares back at you, curly hair dishevelled, and his suit all creased from his rushing to get there. Harry hadn't been up to anything bad, and he wanted to tell you this, but he knew right now it wouldn't help his case one bit. He knew he'd upset you and he cared more about that than defending his honour in the moment.