There will be a lot of flower references in this chapter, but I won't be adding pictures as it would ruin the flow of the conversation, so feel free to google the names of them so you can get the picture, or just use my descriptions and think of whatever you want!!! <3
I woke up to a new bed, cold sheets and a room that I don't recognise.
Fuck, we're in Dubai. Last thing I remember is waking up from my nap on the plane. And that bathroom on the jet. And that mirror.
I'm not going to lie, that was probably the hottest thing I've ever experienced. I'm usually a brat, but I couldn't find it in me to disobey him, I just wanted him, and I was clearly going to do anything to get that.
I wanted so badly to have sex with him in that little toilet, but we can't. I don't know why, but we can't. It complicates things, it makes things weird, official, like we either have to just ignore what happened or take it further, and I'm not really comfortable making that kind of decision right now.
There's also the fact that I'm scared he's going to forget I exist as soon as I let him fuck me, like Lucie, and like so many other girls I assume.
I remember falling asleep on the couch outside the bathroom, and when he covered me with a blanket.
Fuck, I was probably so needy after I came, I always am, especially when I'm tired too. He's probably scared I've got feelings for him now or some weird clingy shit. He's going to hate me. I just had to go fuck it up being a needy little bitch didn't I?
I hope he doesn't overthink it like I am right now, Jesus.
I sit up in the bed and look over at my phone plugged in on the side, its 11am? Oh, the two-hour time jump now we're obviously in Dubai. We have the day off today, just to rest, figure out the layout of the hotel, as supposedly it's huge in here. I don't remember checking in, or being led up to my room, or even unpacking, but my suitcase doesn't seem to be out.
I walk over to the wardrobe to open it to see if my suitcase is in here, where I usually put it after unpacking. But it's not there, but all my clothes are hung up, and they're even in order of the colours of the rainbow, making it all look extremely colourful and organised, something I definitely didn't do.
I walk over to the chest of drawers and open some of them, to see things perfectly folded, and even my underwear all in a separate drawer.
There even seems to be a lace lingerie set left obviously on the top, something I haven't worn in ages, I just bought it with me just in case I wanted to make myself feel really sexy one night, something every girl deserves once in a while. Lingerie is for yourself, to make you feel sexy and good. This set was one of my favourites though, it was a lace bodysuit, very thin and minimal, but a gorgeous rich pine green colour, which makes the red of my hair seem even more vibrant. Dark green is my favourite colour to wear.
I realise that I definitely didn't unpack this, and I definitely didn't leave in on the top of the contents of this drawer, and I'm curious as to where my empty suitcase is.
I look around the room in any of the neat corners it could be in, and eventually realise it's under the fucking bed. Who puts their suitcase under the bed when they're staying in a hotel?
I pull it out to see if my toiletries are left in there, something I usually leave in my suitcase if I'm unpacking when I'm tired, but as I unzip it I see something in there, and it's not my toiletries.
It's a sketch, one that I haven't seen before.
It's definitely Harry's, as the little 'H x' in the bottom corner of the page is something I've noticed is present in every one of his initial sketches.
It's a jumpsuit, but a skin-tight, strapless one, and it goes all the way down my legs and even covers my feet. I think he's also drawn some clear plastic heels to make it look like part of the jumpsuit too. And it's dark green, the same colour as the lingerie set that was left on top in the drawer.
He unpacked everything for me, that's why I don't remember. He must've carried me off the jet, into the car, and then through the hotel. It was 2am when we landed, so it would've been dark outside, so I guess no one would've seen us. I wonder what Rosie and Niall think, fucks sake. Lola wouldn't have cared though.
He unpacked everything for me though, which I thought that was just a weird thing I did when staying in hotels for short periods of time, but I guess he does it too, or he noticed that's what I do and wanted to do it for me when he left me in here last night.
He was in here, in my room, and he put me to bed.
I'm wearing underwear now, but the same oversized white shirt I was wearing on the plane.
So, he undressed me? My lower half at least.
Huh.
I should be uncomfortable by that, but for some reason I'm not, it's nothing he hasn't see before I guess, and I'm not going to freak out just because a guy's seen my body, it shouldn't be a big deal, it shouldn't even be sexual, and I'm glad he was mature about it.
Leaving the lingerie on the top of my drawer was cheeky of him, but he was leaving hints, so that I would know it was him in here, referring to the colour of the jumpsuit he'd left a sketch of. I mean he could've just sent a text or left a note, but he's never one to be straight forward.
The jumpsuit is stunning, and I wonder why he left the sketch of it for me? I don't think it's for one of the shows, it doesn't really match his colour scheme and aesthetic, so it's just something he's drawn himself, designed, and he's left it here for me.
The more I look at the sketch I realise that he's designed this for me. The model in the drawing has curly red hair, flipped over to the side just as I normally style my own hair, it's me.
I don't know when he wants me to wear this, but the gesture of leaving it here for me is breath-taking. No one's ever thought of me enough to design something specifically for me, and I can't quite believe he's done this all for me.
He always manages to do that, make me feel special, make me feel like I deserve things. And even though majority of the time we've spent together he's been a complete dickhead, or his mood changes quicker than British weather, the good somehow outweighs the bad, and it makes the mood swings worth it, makes me want to hang around until he does another thing that makes me feel this way. Fuzzy and warm.
We have a day off today, but Niall said be on standby for a fitting. Most of the fittings are early tomorrow morning for the next show, new pieces being introduced into the line up again, but I might be needed today to get a head start, if we're running behind schedule tomorrow Niall might actually start pulling out some hair, and not even his own.
I'm just going to stay in the hotel probably, maybe go to the pool or the gym, maybe even the spa.
We have free meals at this hotel, because we're holding an event here, so I go and jump into the shower, washing away his touch and everything else that happened on that plane, missing it instantly.
I step out of the shower and brush my teeth and splash my face with cold water. I comb my fingers through my hair with some mousse on it, making a mental note that with the humidity here in Dubai, I really need to remember to do this every day.
I step out of the bathroom and go to put some clothes on, and decide to play with fire. I don't know for sure that I will bump into Harry today, and if I don't it doesn't matter, because he won't see it. But if I do see him, I know his face will have that stupid smirk on it, that's so stupid it's starting to grow on me.
I pull out the lingerie bodysuit from my underwear drawer, and pull it on. I wouldn't be allowed to wear this on the street in Dubai, but within the confinements of the hotel I'll be fine.
I throw my white denim shorts over the top of it, and slip on some slides.
I throw in my usual gold earrings paired with some classic gold chains, put my cigarettes and lighter in my back pocket and grab my phone and room key before leaving the room.
This hotel is huge from what I've researched, like all tourist and business hotels are in Dubai, they're like small towns inside. They have restaurants, salons, clothing stores, gardens, spa's and gyms throughout.
The only annoying thing is that I can't have a cigarette anywhere other than the smokers terrace. I could smoke in the streets by law here, but it's not respectful. It's always important to respect and embrace the culture of any country you visit, as you would expect them to do the same in your country. So, it's only fair I do that here.
I go up to the top floor, a few higher than where I'm staying, which is where the restaurants and shops are, and as I walk out, I see that it's basically just a huge mall. I'm walking round past all the families and couples, before I notice something that immediately catches my eye.
In the middle of the space, is a glass room, with lots of sunlight peeking through, and as I get closer to it, I see how there is a hole in the ceiling, making it a little outdoor space in the middle of the mall.
And it's full of flowers.
I don't know any flower names, only the basics, but all I know is that there is colour popping from every angle that comes into my vision. I decide to go in there, have a walk around, looking at the flowers. The last time I saw the Marigold flower it completely lifted my day, so I don't see a reason to not go in here, I've got nowhere else to be. It might be nice to just sit in there, basking in the fresh sunlight, just me and myself, something I don't do often enough.
I walk through the automatic glass doors and immediately feel the intense heat from the sun on my skin. Thank God my moisturiser has SPF in it.
I walk around, delicately touching the flowers, and taking some photos of certain bright flowers that catch my eye. It's a beautiful light pink shade, and once I take a closer look, I realise that it looks like it could be a Marigold. I didn't realise they grew in different colours to the usual orange, red and yellow.
"You know that's a Marigold right?"
It's a familiar deep voice, the velvet and gravelly tones sending a shiver up my spine, but as the shiver ripples to the other muscles in my body, it warms, and the feeling stays.
I know who's stood behind me, I can hear his soft breathing and I can smell his scent.
"I had an idea," I say softly, gently cupping one of the flowers in my hand, "didn't know you could get them in pink though." I sigh.
"It's mostly tones of reds and yellows, you can manipulate it though, if you know how to specifically grow them." He says so gently it almost sounds like a hum.
"You know a lot about them?" I question him, although the answer is quite obvious.
"My Mum's favourite flower." He says, but I don't think he's finished talking, it's obviously a very personal topic for him, the flowers, Marigold's, so I stay silent, giving him a minute to collect himself before continuing.
"She owns a florist, so you could say I'm a bit of a 'flower geek'" He chuckles, but I can tell it's because he's uncomfortable.
"What's your favourite flower then?" I quickly change the subject, knowing he's never been one to talk about his family, but noticing that his chest is very close to my back, his arm almost touching the centre of my spine.
"Oh, I could never pick a favourite, it's too hard, there's so many beautiful ones." He scoffs, but completely serious in his intentions.
He turns to walk away, and my body screams for me to follow him, and that's exactly what I do. He's gently walking, looking over lots of flower beds, a pondering look on his face, like he's thinking about something, or trying to think of something to say to me next.
I don't know why he's out here, maybe he was drawn to it like I was, or maybe he chose this hotel for us to stay in knowing this was here, maybe it was something he wanted to see.
I don't know whether he noticed I was in here, or if he's even noticed what I'm wearing, but at this moment I don't care about that, I just want to listen to him.
I once said that Harry is a man of very few words, but that it didn't bother me because when he does say things and speaks for long periods of time, it makes it all more special, and you cherish that moment because you don't know how long it's going to last, like every single extra sentence counts. And that couldn't be truer than it is right now.
He stops next to a budding tree, and walks up closely to it. He cradles the small bud between his two pointer fingers, looking intensely at it, admiring it almost. It's not very pretty, and it looks like a fluffy grey acorn, I don't even think it's a flower to be honest.
"It's a willow flower, part of the willow tree." He says, still facing the tree, but knowing that I'm listening to him. "This has to be one of my favourites. Even though it doesn't have the look of a pretty and colourful flower, in terms of biology, it's a flower. It symbolises a significant sadness, which some would say sort of reflects the way it looks, but I don't think that's fair. It's a flower, so it should be treated like one." He nods, and I'm completely enamoured by his words, taking in everything he's saying, this is something he clearly loves talking about.
"But it also symbolises growth, healing, and strength. Things that you only truly understand when you've been through the lowest sadness you know is possible for your capacity. There's a silent strength to it, especially when people don't even give it a second glance, thinking it's just a weed on a tree."
It feels like we're the only two people in this garden, the only two people in the world, and I never want him to stop. The way he is so passionate and knowledgeable on something you would never expect is captivating.
He turns suddenly and walks in a completely new direction without saying anything else, and like a lost puppy I follow him, hanging on his every word.
He stops in a corner, with lots of individual, small plant pots that have sunflowers in them, but they're tiny sunflowers, smaller ones than the usual long stemmed, tall ones. He crouches down to see them better, and I stand next to him, just bending over to look at them.
"Why are they so small?" I whisper, feeling like I've just asked a stupid question, but he just lightly chuckles at me.
"They're dwarf sunflowers, and they don't grow individually like the full-sized ones, they grow in numbers, and form a sort of bush, making it easier for people to have them in their garden or in a bouquet. A symbol of complete adoration for someone or something, but also, extreme humility. And because they follow the sun, it makes it even more beautiful to watch. I love that they're smaller, but just as powerful and strong, and they don't rely on the flowers around them to survive, they just prefer not being alone."
"They're cute." I say to him.
He exhales a breathy laugh and hums, nodding his head.
He gets up and moves over to a leafy green bush, with pearly white flowers embedded throughout it. They aren't the typical shape of flowers, they're long and very crowded, with lots of small buds blossoming close to each other.
I walk up closely to these ones, kneeling down and looking very closely at them, and after examining and touching them for a few minutes, I hear a light laugh from my left. I look up at Harry, who is still stood, but watching intently as to what I'm doing.
"They're white hyacinths, they grow in bulk." He smiles at me, "Pretty aren't they?" He asks me softly.
"So pretty." I smile up at him before turning back to face the flowers, leaning in and smelling them.
He is completely silent, letting me enjoy them in my own time, not wanting to interrupt me. He knows exactly when to do that, knowing when you need to take a moment for a private thought to yourself, he has always respected and understood that.
"What do they mean?" I ask him, turning to look at his face again, and before he answers, he crouches down next to me, delicately touching on of the flowers.
"Prayers for someone, and hopefulness. They used to be used for when someone went missing or had died, as it was said that by putting white hyacinths on your doorstep, you were asking for help, and praying for someone's safety. Some people also believe that you feel a significant pull towards this particular white hyacinth when you're missing someone, worried for their safety, even though you've already come to your own conclusion as to what happened to them. But then, despite everything, there's a tinge of hopefulness in your subconscious, telling you not to give up, because eventually you will find the answers you need. That kind of symbolism is extensive, and very much subjective, but still very moving, don't you think?" He turns to look at me as he asks me that last sentence, and my eyes instantly meet his.
I don't realise that there is a tear rolling down my cheek until he reaches up and catches it with his thumb, and it reminds me that this isn't the first time he's done that, and it's not the first time this has happened between us. I often find that I have no control over my emotions when I'm with him, and I constantly get lost in the moment, forgetting about everything around me, and focussing on only him and his words, and I don't realise how much he's affected me until he already has.
"I love them." I whisper.
We stay in silence again, both digesting the magnitude of what has been said.
"Will you show me one more? One of your ultimate favourites." I say innocently, but excitedly, although I don't want to make him uncomfortable, but not wanting to stop what is happening between us. It feels electric.
"Sure Flower, course I can." He grins, standing up and gesturing for me to grab his hand to help me up.
Flower? That's new.
I place my hand in his and he pulls me to stand up, but as he starts to walk, he doesn't let go of my hand. He keeps it firmly in his grasp, leading me over to a big green bush, with flowers that look a similar shape to a Marigold, but are different colours.
"They're called camellia's, and if I had to pick a favourite flower, it would be these ones. They come in lots of different colours, but pink and red like these ones are my favourite, especially when they grow next to each other. The symbolism is so intense and passionate for both colours, that when my Mum first told me about it, it stayed with me ever since."
I nod, stood next to him, our fingers intertwined, and our shoulders now barely touching, but just enough for me to feel a comfort and warmth from him.
"The interpretations are very vast and dependant on culture, location and colour, but the red and pink, are obviously colours of love and affection. The layers of petals, it's an individual type of adoration, one that's only found in novels or movies, it's powerful, it's unpredictable, and most of the time you don't even know that it's there until it's too late."
"Wow, that's intense." I softly gasp and he chuckles under his breath again, squeezing my hand as he does.
"It's often described as a longing for love, or admiration, either to receive it or to be able to give it. Some even say it's a dangerous kind of longing, a flame on the heart, something that cannot be prevented, only embraced, that's why it's dangerous. It's unstoppable."
"That's deep." I chuckle a soundless laugh.
"Well, yes, but it's also extremely beautiful, and it's something one can only dream of."
"Do you believe in that kind of love? The unrealistic rom-com kind of love? Like Anna and Will?" I joke.
He laughs at my 'Notting Hill' reference before turning to face me to answer my loaded question.
"I believe that all of these stories wouldn't exist if it didn't. Someone had to know what it feels like, to write about it enough, for it to withstand hundreds of years of history. Life surely isn't that cruel." He says, looking into my eyes.
It gives me chance to look into his eyes too. They're soft, and warm. And despite the emerald green being more vibrant than ever, it's inviting and enthralling, and it's a maze I wouldn't hesitate to get lost in if it's a warmth that feels like this.
We stay there, allowing the sunlight to settle in our skin, not touching the camellia's like we did the other flowers, they feel too precious for that. We just look at them, captivated how such a little flower can say so many things that resonate with our own hearts and souls. It's a feeling I don't think I'll ever be able to describe, and it makes me tingle and itch and makes my blood feel uncomfortably warm, but I withstand it. For him.
He pulls me away from there before long, spinning me under his arm making me twirl as we walk off over to a bench area, and I giggle as he grins at me, guiding me over to where he wants us to go next.
He discreetly plucks a small white hyacinth as we walk past where we were before and as we sit down on a nearby bench he gives it to me.
"Keep it, you clearly felt a connection with it." He smiles.
"Thank you." I say quietly before bringing the flower up to my face to smell it, smiling at the fresh scent.
After a few minutes of silence, something we're very good at embracing between the two of us, he breaks it.
"I wanted to talk to you about the other night..." He asks me hesitantly.
I freeze.
"No." I answer straight away.
"I've just been thinking about it, and I just want to make sure you're okay with it."
"Why would you care about that? If I'm 'okay' with it?" I scoff.
"You just seemed really anxious when we found it and I keep seeing the same anxiety creep in, I just want to know if you're dealing with it okay."
"Just shut up Harry." I say in a monotonous voice.
"Why? You're clearly shit scared about something and I want to know what it is."
"I'm not having this conversation with you." I brush it off.
"Yes, you are. You are struggling with it, and you just bottle it up." He pushes.
"And what do you do? Are you dealing with your own feelings, talking to people, letting them in?" The volume of my voice is increasing. I really can't have this conversation with him.
"We aren't talking about me." He shuts me down bluntly.
Silence.
"What has you so scared?" He shifts closer to me on the bench, speaking with a caring tone.
I shake my head, trying to stop the prickling heat consuming my body, and the tears threatening to fall from my eyes.
"Is he threatening you? Did you know?" He pushes.
I shake my head more furiously, my curls starting to get in my eyes, tears clouding my vision even further.
"Flower, what is he doing to you?" He leans in further to me, placing his hand on my leg at an attempt to comfort me.
But I don't want to hear it. I can't have this conversation with him, it blatantly puts him in danger.
I stand up and storm out of there, going back inside of the mall area, and running into the lift, going back down to my floor. I quickly pace out of the elevator and walk down the corridor until I find the door to the smoking terrace, which luckily, is empty.
I pull out my cigarettes and lighter and place the white filter into my mouth as quickly as my hands will let me. I walk over to the wide set ledge and climb up to sit on it, one leg hanging off of the edge, and the other hanging on the safe side. There is a tall column behind me, and I lean back onto it, and exhale my first drag, letting my eyes flutter closed and leaning my head back to let the sun warm my face.
I finish my first cigarette, before quickly getting another out, lighting it and doing the same thing.
I let my head be quiet, as much as I can manage, just trying to block out the rising tension I feel inside of me, focusing on the warmth of the sun, the burn of the tobacco debris climbing its way into my lungs, the pressure on my chest and the relief of exhaling smoke back out into the atmosphere.
When I'm about to start my third cigarette, I hear the sound of the door clicking open, and I turn to see who it is.
"How'd you know I'd be up here?" I ask him lowly.
He looks at me, not surprised at what I'm doing or where I am in the slightest. He waits a while before replying, but when he does, for some reason it comforts me.
"Because it's exactly where I would've come." He smiles apprehensively.
I get him a cigarette out as he mirrors my seating position, facing me with a leg hanging either side of the ledge, but he doesn't have a column to lean back on his side.
I place his cigarette in my own mouth so it's next to the one I was about to light, and ignite them both with my lighter. I take the first drag for him at the same time as my own, before handing it over to him, to which he nods in gratitude.
Silence, again.
"You can tell me, you know." He says, adamant to get some answers from me.
I sigh before feeling a few tears dropping from my eyes, one even landing on the petal of the hyacinth I'm holding, which is still clenched tightly in my other hand.
"My D-Dad" I whimper.
A confused expression takes over his face.
"I'm s-scared," I push, "scared that he's involved."
Harry didn't realise my Dad could possibly be involved, and it's like I see him connect the dots in his head, watching the cogs turn.
"You knew didn't you? But you never asked questions, because you don't want to know if he's part of it." He says, talking to me like I'm a piece of glass about to shatter beneath his touch, but slowly understanding why I've been freaking out.
I nod.
He notices that I'm trying to regulate my breaths, so he reaches over and begins stroking soft circular motions on my thigh, which helps calm me even further.
"I knew that Martin was doing some dodgy stuff, that much is obvious, but I never saw it with my own eyes, and I never really knew explicitly what it all meant, I never wanted to. But now I've seen it, how bad it is, I don't know if I can fathom the fact that my father is involved, I don't know how I would deal with that." I get out, hoping that telling him this might make it a little easier to take.
He hums softly, taking in every single vowel and consonant of what I'm saying, still stroking my leg to encourage me.
"Have you ever heard of orange blossom?" He asks me, and I shake my head, not expecting him to take the conversation in this direction.
"It's the flowers that grow around orange fruit, and, well, the flowers growing around the orange itself are a mark of sweetness and purity, but the flowers then hide behind the fruit as it grows and can often wilt and die as the fruit continues to develop, leaving the blossom flowers behind. So, the orange blossom itself is considered a selfless flower, something that allows itself to fall, so others can bloom in the way that they choose, and underneath, it encompasses qualities such as innocence and eternal love. It's always been one of my favourites."
I'm silent, letting the warm air surrounding us swallow up his words.
"I guess what I'm trying to say is," He stutters, "You love him, more than anything, but you can't protect him from everything. But you also can't let his actions bring you down, and let them get lost in the love you have for him. Because even people we love let us down Flower, even if they love us when they do." He sighs, like the feeling is something extremely familiar to him.
And even though I don't know anything about flowers, or how to even process that my Dad could be involved in this, everything he just said to me made more sense than any advice anyone has ever gave me.
"Thank you" I say to him.
"You never have to thank me, it's what you deserve."
~~~~~
I'm literally so soft for them it makes me want to explode. This was an important chapter despite the fact that nothing really happened lol.
I love you all so much and hope you're all okay after the last few traumatic days of being a fanfic reader!!!!
My DM's are always open my beauties, for a chat or for a whine and a moan, I'm always here to listen if you need <3
Love you all xxxx