It's You [H.S.]

11.5 | You're it

A/N: Here it is...! I hope you'll find this makes up for the angst of the last few chapters?! Wattpad notifications have been a little screwy again, so please ensure you've checked out the previous chapter (uploaded on Saturday), or else this won't make any sense... Enjoy! Xx

8th February 2018

After only sleeping fitfully, Harry dragged the boys down to the hotel gym, bright and early.

Whilst Mitch and Tom sat drinking their coffees in silent protest, Jeff dutifully tagged around after him, keeping a watchful eye as he bounded between cardio machines and weights.

They all stare, impressed and a little intimidated, when he started going to town on the punching bag; intent on burning up the last of his restless energy.

>

After the sauna, steam room and then the pool, Harry realised as they grabbed some lunch that he had nothing to wear. Unconvinced there'd be anything clean he could grab from the rest of his stuff still scattered around Fujii's house, he decided they needed to go shopping.

Throughout most of his time in Tokyo, he'd been living in tour merchandise, black sweats, hoodies and beanies, or else a limited repertoire of ratty t-shirts, a pair of vintage blue jeans, and an oversized khaki jacket.

But none of that would do for Eloise. After four long months and everything he put her through? He'll need to bring his A-game.

Heading outside, the boys were amazed at how little fuss Harry attracted as he slipped in and out of the taxi and stealthily into the Gucci store.

Afterwards, he'd had them stop off at a barber shop Kunichi recommended, just for a little trim and a spruce up.

What a tart. The guys lent some levity, ribbing him over his sudden vanity and underlying nerves.

>

But the barber didn't style it quite right, so as soon as they returned to the hotel, just before 5pm, Harry headed straight to the bathroom to turn on the shower.

After eyeing the time nervously, then unfastening his watch, pulling off his rings, emptying his pockets, and setting his phone to charge on the nightstand, he promptly started stripping off.

"You gonna sort yourself out, yeah? Good idea", Tom heckled, ignoring Harry's scoff, "I am absolutely not kidding, mate!". Unperturbed after failing to dodge the socks pelted in his direction, he calls out after him, "Four months? Poor little Harold will be gunning for some attention!". Grinning smugly at the others, he ignored Harry's rude gesture as he slammed the bathroom door shut.

Boys will be boys.

>

But, admittedly, Harry was in there a while.

The waterfall shower head did amazing things to the tense muscles of his neck and shoulders.

And, fine, Tom may have had a point.

It's been hard not to get his hopes up unduly, but he figured that might at least help take care of one potential distraction.

>

Emerging from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, with one towel wrapped around his waist and one over his head, Harry's vision is obscured as he vigorously rubs his damp hair.

Whipping back his still lengthy enough wild curls, he shakes his head in an attempt to dispel the dizziness.

When his vision settles, he gasps in shock and drops the towel from his hand, stopping short a few metres away.