Pack yourself a toothbrush, dear

Bonus :)

"Louis" Niall points, and the crowd turns to look at me, "We've all spent hours and hours listening to Harry yap about you. He's always fucking speaking about you. You know, Louis did that the other day and he did this, yesterday. Louis thought asparagus was the name of a fish. Louis thought Keeping Up With The Kardarshians was a movie. Louis thought Sri Lanka is in India. Yada, yada. Louis, Louis, Louis. Sometimes, we, as the listener are concerned that Harry has turned into a Louis Update Account, honestly wouldn't even doubt it if all Louis update accounts on twitter were secretly run by Harry. End point is, Harry always has a lot to say about Lou. So, Louis, return the favor today ?"

What. An impromptu speech ? I am horrible at speaking about things, especially private things about people that I'm in love with; especially about Harry. Because Harry's Harry. What can I say about my husband ? He's incomprehensible, he cannot be reduced to mere words or phrases.

"Anything ?" He coaxed and Harry's eyes turned to me, they were mellow and forgiving as if to say, it's okay if you don't, I know what I mean to you and that's all that matters "For Harry ?"

Fuck it. Harry deserves it, he deserves to hear how he made my world turn around at his simple smile. He deserves to know it when he's not singing them as songs, he deserves to know it when it's pouring out of me as words.

"Pass me the mic, you nymph" I stand up, beaming. This is the single most special day of my life, I don't care about making a fool out of myself. The guest all cooed and cheered at Niall ran from the small stage, the cordless mic in his hand, pale face flushed with alcohol and breathlessness. Hair paler from frequent trips to the pool, doused in chlorine and aristocratic piss.

I look at Harry and his bright, bright eyes. He's still glowing and he's so happy and warm, I can feel it. I can feel it radiating off him, and projecting on to me. I can touch his happiness, it's so palpable.

"We have been together for a rough weird estimation of two thousand days, I don't know, I'm terrible at math" I sigh, gripping the mic so hard, it might crush under my fingers, "I have listened to every song you've written and been to every concert you've ever performed in, even if I lurked in the shadows where no one could see me. I've read every tweet you've addressed and held back the urge to reply or to like it, for years. I've scrolled through every post on Instagram, every one of your black and white hipster bullshit. We've had so many jokes. We ate so many gourmet meals and stale eggs within a span of twenty four hours. We slept together so many nights after creeping into each other's hotel rooms after everyone in the crew has possibly dozed off."

The golden tour days.

"We always kept it real, you and me. You laughed at me when I said words in a weird way. I still don't know how to pronounce croissant, I'm sure I said it wrong even know. I laughed at you for eating way too many bananas, even by chimpanzee standards. Truly, he ate like three for breakfast. We traveled to eighty six countries together. We took private ski trips. We made playlist depending on the mood and the country we were sleeping in. I sent you tons of handwritten notes and got my arms inked to the symbols of you. You convinced me to put on your homemade face masks that smell like aloe vera and made songs out of my notes. You took me to the emergency room once, when I suffered from alcohol poisoning due to a stupid bet with Zayn."

"I once carried your stupid, grandfather clock up stairs to your writing room only for you to say that we should move it back downstairs because it matches the hues of our drawing room curtains. We only binge watched four series together, we never had the fucking time, but we went to Leeds together and we saw Macklemore perform Same Love at the Jingle Ball. We started fanfic reading contests and you always cried at the sad ones, like the one where I get ill and it made me love you more because you could rarely get halfway through them before crying and hugging me and begging me to get a health checkup done. Somehow, we also ended up on a bad place, we rarely argued but we bottled up stuff way too many times. I blame it on the fame, I blame it on the stage, I blame it on us. We drank vodka from coffee cups way too often and we cried in our kitchen the last time we stopped being hundred percent honest all the time. And I always look back and wonder, why I didn't do more on my side."