Cliché || H.S.

Chapter 40

A/N: You know the dealio, I'll tell you when to play the song!!

The sound of my phone ringing brings me out of a deep sleep, and I have to feel around the bed until I find where the vibration is coming from. Before I answer I check the time, and my eyes shoot open in surprise when I see it's already eight a.m.. I have nowhere to be, but I'm still surprised that I slept in this late.

"Hello?" I answer groggily, sitting up slightly. I rub my tired eyes and stifle a yawn.

"Hey, did you just wake up?" Harry asks from the other end. His voice alone makes me feel wide awake, the corners of my mouth rising up slightly.

"Mmhm," I mumble, bringing myself to a seated position on my bed.

"What? You never wake up after seven," Harry sounds caught off guard and it makes me chuckle. The way that after all of this time he still remembers little details like that makes me feel warm and fuzzy.

"Long week. What's up?"

"Oh, right. The art pieces we picked out last week just got delivered and I was wondering if you wanted to come help me decide where to put them and see the house finally," Harry says cheerily. I agree easily, promising to be there in about fifteen minutes. I hop out of bed and throw on a pair of joggers and a cropped long sleeve shirt before brushing my hair and teeth.

Celeste finally has the morning off of work so I tiptoe past her room and down the stairs to not wake her. Once I'm out the front door I'm met with the crisp morning air, embracing the coolness. By next month it will already start warming up, so I try to enjoy the chilly weather while I still can. The walk to Harry's is less than a mile, and while I enjoy the peacefulness of early morning, it feels odd not driving to his old house.

I haven't seen Harry since our date, our schedules clashing too much to figure out a time that works for both of us. Once upon a time we would have worked around that, at least sleeping in the same place even if we hardly talked, but now it was that much more difficult to navigate. Instead we texted incessantly with a couple short phone calls scattered in there, and my days were occupied thinking about him.

Once I double check that I have the right house, I head up the cobblestone path before ringing the doorbell. While I wait for him to come to the door I observe the outside of the house; its brick exterior, freshly mowed lawn and surrounding trees. It reminds me of London in a sense, and I instantly understand why he chose it.

Harry opens the door a moment later in a pair of exercise shorts and a hoodie, his hair still a mess. Harry is known for his flamboyant and boundary-pushing style, but this is the Harry that I know. The contrast is striking.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Harry smiles proudly, gesturing for me to come inside. After slipping off my shoes I follow Harry deeper into the house, taking it all in as he gives me a mini tour. It reminds me of his New York apartment even though it's probably six times the size. It has a similar design style, somewhat masculine but homey nonetheless.

"What do you think?" Harry asks as we conclude the tour. He stands in the middle of the kitchen as I run my hand along the steel appliances approvingly. I make my way to where he stands, resting my hand on his arm.

"I love it," I say honestly, looking up at him, "it looks just like you." His face splits into a grin as he looks back down at me, a proud look on his face. I love that he wanted my opinion and approval, even if he didn't need it.

"So where are those paintings?" I ask, bringing the attention back to why I'm supposed to be here. I look around the living room, but it's already perfectly decorated, absent of anything we had picked out together.