Cliché || H.S.

Chapter 45

While visiting with Kelly and Harper was nice, it was emotionally draining. After my conversation with Kelly things were much lighter, Harper spending the days swimming and even visiting me on set one day. It's always hard to see them go, but I feel the need for normalcy, even just a single day that doesn't take an emotional toll on me. I think I've had enough emotional distress in the past three months or so to last me the year.

    Harry has seemed a bit off too, but I cake it up to be the stress of making another album. He loves his job, but that doesn't mean it's not difficult like everyone else's. He's such a perfectionist that he often doesn't sleep until he works out kinks, pulling his hair due to the small details. I think he could use a normal day too, a day away from the stresses that plague our lives.

    When I walk down the grand staircase it's easy to find him, a soft melody coming from the piano in the front room. I pull my robe tighter as I sneak up behind him, listening to him play. Once his fingers come to a halt I sling my arms over his shoulders and rest my chin on his bedhead.

    "You're up early," I remark, watching as his strong fingers play out a few more notes.

"Couldn't sleep. I just want to get this one right," Harry responds. He sounds frustrated, and I wish that it was something I could help him with, but I can't say I know much about song writing.

"Maybe you need a break?" I suggest, moving to sit beside him on the bench. Harry sits in thought for a moment while I run my fingers across the keys, playing the intro to a pop song from when I was in high school.

"You play the piano?" Harry asks, his eyes shooting up in surprise.

I chuckle at his reaction and place my hands back on the keys, playing a classical song that's much more impressive, "Well I certainly didn't buy a piano this nice just for decoration."

Harry shakes his head in disbelief, watching as my fingers dance across the length of the piano. "I can't believe I've known you for almost three years and I never knew you played. How come you've never played for me?"

"I enjoy watching you play more. Plus I didn't want to bruise your ego with these impressive skills," I joke. The first part was true though. I love curling up in the bay window and watching him piece together songs or sing old ones. It's as cathartic for me to watch him play as it is for him to play.

Harry nudges me with his shoulder but his dimple appears in his cheek. "You can't bruise my ego too badly. I already know I'm good with my hands," Harry says, his hand moving to rest on my upper thigh. My hands stop moving immediately and Harry's smirk grows.

My cheeks turn scarlett and I have to clear my throat, not sure how to respond. Harry chuckles at my reaction and rubs my leg before looking back to his notebook that rests on top of the piano. "About that break, I don't think it's happening. I really need to get this done. I'm sorry baby."

"Maybe a day off will clear your mind and make it easier. I think we both could really use a day not related to work or stress," I defend. Harry rubs his eyes, not looking totally convinced. "Please. For me? If you get a sudden burst of inspiration we can come right back," I plead, batting my eyelashes. I know that I can wear him down eventually.

Harry exhales and pulls down the cover over the keys, "Alright, O'Brien. What do you have planned?" My face splits into a grin and I press a kiss to his cheek. I think we both could really use this.

Harry sits passenger on the drive, fidgeting with the radio. I swear this guy can never settle on a song. He's mostly quiet, looking out the window or tapping away on his phone. The lack of conversation makes me begin to wonder that maybe there's more on his mind than just this album.