theadora : harry styles

harry's always working

The clock ticking on the kitchen wall is the only noise apart from the shuffling coming from Harry's end of the line.

She looks at the clock on the top right, and sighs. "You can show it to me later," she says. "When you find it."

"I swear I put it on this chair when I first got to my room."

"It's fine, Harry."

Harry's face pops back on the screen again, hood still up, and she watches as he rubs his eye with his free hand. He looks tired, she can still tell despite the pixelated version of him, and she knows he'll start yawning in a minute because it's getting late where he is.

He coughs once, and bites his lip. "Can you show her again?" He asks, more like mumbles, and she smiles.

She turns the phone towards where Theadora is sleeping in her bed. Harry smiles.

"She's gotten bigger," he murmurs, words laced with endearment and regret.

It wasn't his fault, really.

He had a job to do. A tour to do– places to see, people to please– everyone but them, a voice in the back of her head screams. He pleases everyone but them.

"We FaceTime almost every day," she says, words hushed when she notices Thea stir in her sleep. "She doesn't look that different. You're just tired."

"I miss her."

She looks down at her lap, then adjusts the phone when her hand starts shaking. "I know."

"You doing okay," Harry asks. She can't tell but he's nervous.

She nods. He does, too.

Neither of them speak for a while.

Until he breaks the silence.

"Christmas soon."

She nods. Again.

She hears him walk, and looks back up at the screen. "I'm looking at flights," he tires again. "Jeff is. I might visit. For a couple of days. Then go back."

"Good."

"Good?"

"Yeah, good."

He grows frustrated, hand going up to his damp hair. She can tell it is by the looks of it. "Don't do that– don't say 'good' when you obviously want to say something else," he says, voice hoarse.

"I don't have anything else to say, Harry. Visit, or don't. Up to you."

"It isn't, though. You know it isn't."

She nods. "Okay."

"Y/N..."

"What?"

"Say it. I can't deal with your bullshit now."

"My bullshit?" Her eyebrows raise, as her voice does. She looks at Thea for a moment before she turns back to her screen. "Thanks, Harry. Appreciate it."

"You always say shit like that when you have something else to say. You never tell me what you're thinking but you expect me to guess. I'm not a fuckin' magician. Just tell me how you're feeling."

"I feel lonely. Angry. Sad," she wipes her nose with the back of her hand. "That what you wanted to hear? You said you were visiting a month ago. And the month before that."

He raises his eyebrows. "I'm working!"

"When are you not?"

"Y/N."

"Okay, let's– I can't do this right now."

"You're driving me insane," he walks around again. She doesn't get to see where. "All cryptic and shit. I can't do this either."

"Then go and work some more," she nods. "Go on."

"Fuck you! You know I want to be there for you and Dora. You know that."

"Thea."

"Thea, Dora– what's it matter for fuck's sake. We're not doing this."

She looks at Thea again, and she feels something else in the place of her heart. Something heavy– as hard as a rock. Empty. Something that's been eating away at her.

She feels hot all of a sudden. Too hot.

"I'm gonna hang up," she says.

"Good."

"Good."

"Goodbye, Y/N."

"Yeah."