NO STRINGS ATTACHED

one of us.

Harry and Y/n were hiding up in his room from their mothers who were having one too many wines downstairs with other parents from the neighbourhood, it was Easter long weekend. The pair of them had gotten sick of socialising and talking about what their plans were after school, they were only halfway through their final year of school and had already been asked too many times to count.

Y/n flopped onto his bed with a sigh grabbing his favourite turtle pillow, Terry, and scooped the stuffed animal into her arms. They always hid up here when they were sick of the adults. Harry sat on a beanbag by his CD player watching her. He always watched her, eyes never shying away from her face which always brought a radiance of heat to her skin.

She looked cute. She was in a pink floral dress, it was long and she had paired it with her favourite pastel yellow cardigan. Her hair was styled into two plaits with ribbons. She looked rather angelic.

She was mumbling a complaint about how she had no bloody idea who she wanted to be when she grew up, and how she didn't think that was such a bad thing. Harry could only nod in agreement.

She looked at his tall shelf of CDs and sighed. "Put some ABBA on, they always make everything better."

So he did.

The track played as background noise for a while as they talked, Harry told her of his aspirations to sing and she told him of her aspirations to be happy and content. Eventually, it finally hit one of her favourites, One Of Us, she gasped.

"Turn it up!"

He obeyed turning to the dial louder. She stood up on his bed still holding Terry, and began to sing and jump on the bed. For an eighteen-year-old, she felt like a kid sometimes. As she began to belt the lyrics very off-key, Harry covered his ears playfully and she stopped jumping.

"Hey, you try jumping and singing then!" She said and Harry took that as a challenge. He toed his shoes off and joined her placing his hands in hers and began to jump with him as they belted the lyrics between laughs.

Harry's voice was soft and nice on her ears so she shut her lips just so she could hear him louder, and she wished she could just listen to him for hours. She was almost certain he would be someone one day.

When the song ended they flopped down on his squeaky bed with a laugh, backs pressing into the soft springy mattress. Then Gemma came in and made a complaint about Anne dancing.

Y/n and Harry sat up and then followed her downstairs. Somehow Y/n's mother convinced them to get into a photo. 'All grown up! Our babies!'.

The photo was in Y/n's childhood bedroom back home. Harry's hand was on her waist and Y/n leaned into him smiling, Harry was laughing in the photo Y/n couldn't remember about what.

Harry slid her under his arm and gave her her own microphone, neither needed to look at the lyrics on the screen and as she sang and acted out the scenes she imagined went with the song. She was back in Harry's house when the chorus hit.

He seemed to have gone back to then too. They smiled at each other knowingly. He was very close to her, their noses touching as she dragged her fingers down his chest seductively. The song was slower more dramatic so they acted out as if they felt that feeling.

Neither had noticed the flash of phones or cameras until the chorus when they turned to face their friends. Unfamiliar faces stared back at them, and Harry's brows pinched.

Fans? Drunken people? The latter it seemed.

Y/n continued to sing into the microphone but Harry slightly deterred, stepping back from her. He didn't mind if it was fans, but it was a private room. He really didn't want this night to become about him. That night was about Daisy and James.