A.M.

Coming Soon

It's raining, as to be expected here in London, but it's storming so violently that the last clap of thunder has knocked out the power in our modest little flat.

"Look in the cubby for some birthday candles would you love?" My voice echoes over the brick walls of the flat and off of the shining wooden floors. I repeat my question, loudly this time, but I am still met without a response.

"Darling?" It's quite hard to navigate through a pitch black flat with only the light from my cellphone to lead my feet. My cellphone gives a few warning beeps before it dies a pathetic little death and lay useless in my palm.

I'm about to give up when I hear the soft strumming of his favorite guitar. A Gibson Les Paul Acoustic made of redwood and taut copper strings. From the way the sound carries I can tell that it's coming from downstairs, the rain also sounds louder down there. He isn't singing, not yet, and I find myself obsessing over how he could play so well in the dark when I could barely scrape up a tune in the broad, bloody daylight. I clamber down the stairs like the biggest klutz known to man.

"Oi you" he says over the sound of his playing I can make out his pale cheek from the open window's allowance of moonlight.

"Oi me? Oi you!" I say walking over the the large couch on which he's propped he moves to put away his guitar, but I'm not quite done listening so I stop him.

"Come to watch the storm with me?" By some slap of fate a single strike of lighting illuminates the sky and I watch him in the brief lighting. His hair, which now falls well to the middle of his shoulder blades, is tied into a messy bun. A man bun.

"You know I hate storms" I tell him and he begins a new course of tunes on the guitar, seemingly following the pattern of the rain beating against our roof.

"Ah, nothing to be afraid of love. Not when I'm around" He puffs out his chest like an imbecile and I lean against his shoulder.

"Have you told the boys yet?" He chuckles, a low sound that comes from deep within his chest.

"You see I was about to... and then this bloody power outage-" I kiss him firmly on the mouth and he nearly drops the heavy wooden neck of the guitar. 

"They'll still love you" I tell him referring to his band brothers. He messes up his already untidy hair and lets out a loud, pained sigh.

"And the fans?" I shrug and press my lips to his neck. His pulse is rapid.

"Some might be affronted. Others will support you no matter what" now he sets down the guitar and pulls me onto his lap as a replacement.

"Well if you say it then it must be true" he says with a quick nuzzle to my nose. I nuzzle back and soon it's a festival of eskimo kisses, and touches to the back of the neck.

"You want to know the best part?" He hums indicating that he would indeed like to know the best part of leaving his brothers.

"You'll always have me. I love you Harry Styles" he smiles his crooked and boyish grin and then we're kissing faster than the lighting can strike.

- To all my One Direction fans this is a story in which Harry is the first and only member to leave the group! I'll be working on it here and there let me know how you're liking the sneak peak : ") -