as it is || harry styles au

three

tw: emetophobia

i v o r y

before — junior year of high school

"Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

He pressed another kiss to my knuckles.

I giggled. "That."

We were in the back of his pick-up truck he bought a year ago—before he'd even had his license!—for the sole purpose of having the bed of the truck be a comfortable area to lay in for when we went to his family's drive-in theater. Which was quite often.

"Because...no reason."

He stared at our joint hands with a softness in his eyes that made all the chipped and cracked pieces of myself whole again. With him, all was right.

I never was one to believe that a significant other could make someone a better person, but to put it simply, Harry put everything into perspective for me. He made my life make sense. He gave all the shitty, dark parts of my life a purpose other than letting them rain down on all the happy, light parts. I gave myself credit for allowing my downs to make the ups of my life even happier because I was able to let him in.

"There is obviously a reason."

"Boyfriends kiss their girlfriends' hands all the time."

I was messing with him at first, but his overly nonchalant deflections only made me even more curious and adamant that there most definitely was a specific reason why he kissed the knuckles of my left hand so often.

"If you tell me why, I'll let you do anything you want to me," I said boldly.

He raised an eyebrow. "Anything?"

We were completely ignoring the movie playing on the big screen, but that was because it was The Wizard of Oz—something they played twice a month because Harry's mom loved it so much. We'd quickly grown sick of it over the years and the nights Oz played, we typically talked through it all or made out or both.

"Anything," I confirmed confidently.

There was nothing Harry would do to me that I wouldn't like.

     Keeping a grip of my hand, he took a deep breath, gathering his words. "Eventually, I'll be kissing this knuckle and it'll have my ring on it. Our ring."

     It was one of those light bulb moments. Everything stood still. I'd forever remember the chill in the air, the smell of car exhaust mixed with Harry's cologne. His tone of voice, the whisper of his words on my cheek, the way his arm curled a little tighter around my waist when he predicted we'd be married in the future.

     "We're sixteen," I spoke back softly.

     "I know," he said in consolation, then he reiterated, "I know."

     There was an unspoken 'but' before the second 'I know'.

     This was a small town. People got stuck in Camden. Kids our age planned on never leaving, whereas I wanted out of here the first chance I got. I wanted to get away from the people we grew up with and away from the small town gossip. I wanted to see the east coast and go to a good college and do bigger things than what I could do here. Harry knew this, but he also knew he was one of the ones who weren't leaving.