Always You |harry styles| - completed

TWENTY-FIVE

Fleetwood Mac: Road Runner

Our 'free' week was quite a mess and we ended up staying inside Harry's home in Los Angeles almost for its entirety. Harry tried going to the store once and was swarmed by paparazzi and fans, all wanting a piece of him or his mind. I'd never seen him as distressed before, as he was upon returning home. We decided it was not worth our stress and ended up filling our days with movie marathons, karaoke with the crew, one pool party and a lot of fun. When we hid ourselves and our relationship everything went swell. The moment either of us thought about going to run an everyday errand, we'd start arguing about it. He was sick of hiding and I was too afraid to go out. We'd been going in circles for the first few days so we just decided to avoid the subject altogether. It wasn't the healthiest decision, but we only had a week to spend together and there was no point in spending it fighting over something we couldn't change.

The European leg was almost over, June and this tour had flown by, despite the fact neither of us thought it possible. Our next stop was London and the Brits, one night only, but we were all looking forward to it because Coldplay was performing and Harry was up for 'album of the year'. We talked about how we were going to act at the awards, regarding all the press and cameras that would be shoved in Harry's face for most of the night. He told me we would do whatever I felt comfortable with, and after a lot of pondering I finally came to the conclusion that we had absolutely nothing to hide. A long talk we had in Dublin covered everything from future outings, travels, social media and we agreed on everything. We wouldn't walk red carpets together; we'd only sit at the same table at award shows. We wouldn't answer questions about out relationship when we were apart, and we would never engage with paparazzi. We completely agreed about keeping ourselves off social media when it came to being together – no photos, no stories, no tweets, no selfies. Nothing ever stopped us from taking cute of funny pictures together, having friends take polaroid pics of us or videos of a party we both attended. That being said, there was a strict rule of not sharing any of those anywhere on social media. The Brits would be a true test of how our decisions held up against the real world.

"Would you let me see your dress?", Harry was like an annoying kid that had too much sugar and wouldn't give up, sitting on the floor of his living room.

"God, Harry. It doesn't really matter what it looks like since we're not trying to match. Besides, wouldn't you rather be surprised?", he nodded as a three-year-old's face still inhabited his own. We'd have one of his friends come over shortly to style our hair and do makeup. She knocked on the door of Harry's London house and he sent me to go let her in. When I opened the door I was met by a woman whose face I'd seen countless times in photos years ago.

"Hi love, I'm Lou.", she went straight for a hug and I awkwardly put my arms around her torso. She looked different than I imagined but was still incredibly beautiful. I couldn't believe that the woman who styled the rowdy One Direction lot was in front of me.

"Sorry, I'm Thea. Come in, please.", we walked through the home and straight into the back yard. Harry and she ran to hug each other, probably not having seen each other for a year.

"The legend himself! Oi! You never told me that you met someone, you arse.", she punched his shoulder and he acted as if she'd wounded him with a firearm.

"Well, it wasn't really an over the phone type of news, Lou. I know the drill, don't yell. I'll go hop in the shower and you can work your magic on teacup. Not that she needs it.", he added, retreating from the area slowly.

"Last minute save, eh? So, what shall we do with your hair and makeup today, love?", we moved inside, natural lighting apparently sucked for doing makeup. It was quite nice chatting to her; she shared some very entertaining young Harry stories while she curled my hair and assembled it all into a nice low bun I had no chance of ever replicating myself.