Awe - Harry Styles

(57) museum of art

AMELIA ELAYNE MOORE

I feel pretty today, which with my dim mood is a surprise to me.

Harry told me to get ready today and to look pretty (though he made sure to tell me I always do, and a garbage bag could be in the dress code) but I'm not sure what he even has planned. I'm pretty sure we've visited all our favorite spots as a way to rekindle our love, and to make me happier.

Plus, Harry has set me up with his therapist, and even though I tried to pay for it, he refused. So now he makes sure to take me there, just to reassure his worry that I won't go even though I have nothing against therapy and think it's a good idea, and then he pays the bill afterwards.

Little does he know I've been sneaking money into his dresser drawers so he'll find it, think it's his own money he left around, and keep it without another question.

He hasn't mentioned it, so I think it's working.

I hop down the steps and into the bar, smiling softly as I hear Megan giving Harry shit just as she always does, especially after he ended things.

"Are you trying to look older or something? You're rich. Rich people don't have facial hair, plus you're old enough as is. Maybe you should look into some Botox." She informs him, Megan's got a thing against facial hair.

He just smiles back to her rude words, "I'll look into it."

"Alright, Megs, calm it down." I speak up, letting my presence be known inside the bar.

I'm pretty sure Megan and Matthew just live here at this point. I woke up the other morning and they were all making breakfast in my kitchen, even though Mia and I are the only two that actually live here.

I don't even question it anymore. If they didn't come here so much, this place wouldn't run as smoothly as it does.

"Good morning." I greet the five of them properly, and Harry softly smiles, reaching his hand out to me.

He kissed my temple sweetly, earning a disgusted groan from Megan. "Ew, you're both gross. Get out of here."

"You act like this isn't my bar." I laugh, grabbing her face and placing a sloppy kiss on her cheek. "Aw, did that make you feel better?"

She scrunches her face together in disgust, "Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye."

I laugh, but oblige to her request and Harry and I say our goodbyes to Mia and Matthew before making our way to his car. He helps me into the passenger seat of his car in comfortable silence before getting in on his own side.

When his phone automatically connects to the car, the first thing to play is songs I recognize from playing them inside the bar, songs he told me he didn't know.

And it's all from a playlist titled 'Cherry'.

"Harry?" I speak up with a small smile, "Did you make a playlist out of my music?"

He shrugs, trying to play it off. "I like to expand my options for music to listen to, doesn't mean it's connected to you."

"Oh, yeah? Do you know another Cherry to name your playlist off of?" I grab his hand and bring it to my lap, playing with the rings on his hands.

He coughs to try and cover his smile, choosing not to respond to my words. We drive for a little while longer, the sound of my music playing through and now we both hum to it where as before I was the only one who knew it.

We pull up to a place I've never been before, and it's not completely deserted so I recognize two of Harry's bodyguards standing near the entrance. He lets go of my hand as I stare at the place, looking for a sign of what it is as he makes his way to my side of the car, opening the door for me and helping me out.

"Where are we, H?" I question as he keeps my hand in his, swinging them as we walk towards his guards.

"We are at the Los Angeles Museum of Art, my love." He informs me as we approach the two guards, "Roger, Mark, this is Amelia. Or Cherry."

"I remember you, Roger." I smile as I shake both of their hands, "How is your wife? Molly, was it?"

"Good memory you have there." Roger compliments, "Her name is Molly, and she's doing good. Absolutely in love with Harry's new album, and I suppose we have you to thank for that."

I blush with a laugh, "I guess you do." Harry squeezed my hand lightly at the interaction before leading me inside of the art museum, the two guards in tow.

I could already hear the whispers from all the people, but at that moment, Harry and I couldn't care less. Before, we cared too much about it all, and now, the only way to make it work was to forget about everything else and focus on each other.

Plus, I needed to focus on myself as well. Harry's therapist, Carmen, helped me realize that I was putting everyone in front of myself, even though I was telling everyone else to put themselves in front of everything else sometimes. I couldn't take my own advice.

But right now, standing in this art museum with the person I love, I felt completely happy.

I pushed aside the worries about the bar, what would happen with it and if I was there enough, pushed aside the worries of my relationship with Ethan and how to handle his anger, and pushed aside my unhappiness and the worry that Harry would leave again.

It's not right for me to feel so down when I can be so happy, all I have to do is focus on my happiness and strive to reach it. Really reach it.

There's too much good music, beautiful places, and amazing people in this world for me to focus on the bad things in life.

Right now, I'll simply focus on the wonderful artwork hung up high in the gallery and the pretty boy holding my hand.