i.
Harry really should have turned in at least three hours ago, but with his laptop rested on his lap and a continual spin of drama filled lifetime movies at his disposal – he just couldn't find it within himself to go lay down. It was break anyways – it wasn't like he had anywhere to be tomorrow, but sometimes his sleeping schedule gets out of whack and its hard to turn it back around when school starts back up and shit he should've went to bed sooner.
It was too late for that now though, so he stays at his spot on the couch, where the cushion dips in and his cat sleeps like a log besides him (a literal log; she was a hefty little thing). He wasn't even sure what he was doing on the computer, scrolling mindlessly through blog entries, sometimes looking up the actors in the movies playing, maybe thinking up a possible smoothie recipe and seeing if its already been done. It was a quiet, sort of boring Friday night, but Harry had been too knackered mentally to go out, so he opted to stay in for the night.
He hadn't gotten many messages really, just a few here and there from Niall going on about this girl he met and some messages from Zayn about how he tried drawing a tree earlier but couldn't so he drew Harry instead. He really hadn't expected anymore messages, until his phone lit up once more – another message from Niall which was surprisingly decodable (Harry knew he'd been drinking a bit). 'Call this number' and then a winky face, and Harry really didn't trust when Niall sent him winky faces.
It was an odd number, something that you would catch on TV probably, it hadn't even started with a proper area code. It could be a scam or it could be Harry calling to order a new mattress, or a nice pillow set – he doesn't know, but he's not doing anything anyways so why not give it a go? He really didn't feel like going to bed yet, and the worst that could happen really, was it'd be a bit extra on his bill, but if it's something to keep him preoccupied even for a moment Harry would take it.
So he dials and presses it to his ear, before the other end answers and it sounds sort of – like jazz, on the other line. He thinks – it's pretty much static at first, and he wonders absently if it could be Niall trying to clue him in on what he wants for his birthday, though it's months and months away. Niall was never one to start late, "The earlier, the better" he'd say, " 'cos then you 'aven't got an excuse to why I didn't get something amazing."
But then the music cuts out and a sultry voice asks him if he'll accept the charges. Did he send me to a bloody prison chat? Harry wonders for a moment, until he puts two and two together and realizes that most prisons don't play seductive saxophone music before they connect your call, so he figures he'll keep that dumb thought to himself when he interrogates Niall about his motives later on. He murmurs, "Yes," into the phone and the call clicks over, rings a few times again, and he hears one last click which means someone answered but they weren't speaking.
Harry counted to ten one thousands in his head, until he finally coughs and utters a, "Hello?" and he hears a noise on the other line – like a book dropping to the floor and then a cat's sharp meow and what the fuck did Niall send him to?
"Oh, sorry!" the girl says finally, though she sounded breathless and like she was fumbling around in her bed sheets, "Dozed off a minute, gimme like two seconds I – there are donut crumbs on my pants but I haven't eaten any donuts." she informs him, sounding genuinely concerned and Harry thinks that maybe whatever this is, is a bit mixed up. This girl – though her voice was lovely and soft and much resembled maple syrup pouring over warm fluffy pancakes – did not match the sensual sounding voice that asked him for money. He likes this voice better, he thinks, but he's still confused over what all of this is.
A passing thought brings up a sex line, but there's no way. Not with the anonymous meowing cat and donut crumbs.
"Okay, I'm all squared away, hello!" she starts again, "Uh, 'm a bit tired, so sorry if I'm a bit rusty. Was tryin' to study but then I sort of fell asleep and my cat was like – like she does this weird thing where she's on my knees and – you know what, actually, sorry you don't wanna hear about that." she huffs a breath through her knows, "Alright lets get to the phone banging."
"Phone banging?" Harry repeats with a snort, and though he doesn't know the girl he's got a feeling she'd nodding her head on the other end.
"Or maybe, like – Mobile boning – but yeah, get to it, do you wanna know what I'm wearing?" And oh god, it totally is a phone sex operator he's talking to right now. A very unprofessional one at that, he wonders how she's still hired.
"Oh, no s'like," Harry starts, feeling the need to explain himself instead of just hanging up like he should have, "My friend sent me this number and told me to call, so I did."
The girl hums, "That's a bit dangerous, just calling random numbers. I could've been like – like rude, or something. A grouchy ol' man, maybe, even. Also is your friend Niall?"
Harry makes a noise, starts to ask her how she knew, but she cuts him off, "They've got this thing where someone can recommend a person, I think he might've recommended me to you."
Harry's brows furrow because is Niall trying to set him up with a phone sex operator, and why was Niall calling a sex line anyway? He's probably wasting this girl's time, honestly, he wonders if these calls are monitored and if they are then she certainly can't be making money with them just chatting. Or even if she could, he figures he could make much more with different calls from guys she could get off quick. This is so silly, all of it, he should really just hang up and be over with it.
"Is your cat alright?" he asks instead, stretching out his legs in front of him and suppressing a yawn.
"Wha – Oh! Oh she's fine, just got a bit scared is all. A sturdy thing she is, and pudgy too." Harry can hear her shuffling again.
"Good, that's good." Harry utters, and he wonders why he hasn't hung up yet. There's something about her voice that he likes – really likes – and maybe he just wants to hear her talk a little bit more, "So, what're you studying for?"
"For this Astronomy thing, but s'like I was meant to have been on break but I've got to take the test tomorrow 'round 10, since I hadn't been there to take it the first time." she explains, "Niall says you go to the school off Rosewood, right? I go there too."
Niall has got some very loose lips; Harry thinks that they'll end up kidnapped one day because of it.
"Yeah, I do." he answers, "If you've got to take it tomorrow then why're you up so late?"
She goes quiet for a moment, before he hears the clink of silverware on a plate it seems, "Sorry, I just –" she pauses again, "Like I'm stirring my soup but there's no carrot bits in it. The can said there would be carrot bits." Harry thinks he feels a smile twitch at his lips, and he could almost imagine her – though she's faceless as of now – thoughtfully stirring and searching, genuinely concerned, "I've got to pay the bills somehow – this is more of a night job, really, but I should've turned in a little while back. Do you wanna hear my stats of the night?"
Harry hums, leans back against the couch, "Sure."
"Alright so I've gotten a total of 30 calls; 12 were easy to make nut off, like all I had to do was moan a bit; 7 made me really work for it, had to paint up like a scenario and all that proper stuff; 3 Daddy Kinks; 5 who wanted me to get off with them but I didn't; 2 who all I had to do was muffle 'cos they wanted to pretend their cock was in my mouth; and 1 you." she finishes.
Harry wonders for a moment if she's got a notepad with tally marks, "Impressive," before he thinks for a moment and then, "Wait, which one was Niall?"
He can hear the smile in her voice, when she murmurs, "Now, now, a good Phone banger never gives up client information, my friend – if you're going to be calling this line you have a lot to learn."
Harry snorts, "You expect me to call more then?" he picks at a thread on the cushion.
"I'd hope – s'nice to talk to someone normal. By the way, what's your name? S'not usual that I talk to someone without knowing their name."
"M'Harry," he reaches for his tv remote, going to maybe turn up the volume a bit because it's the very end of the movie and he wants to know who the killer really was, "What's yours?"
She waits a minute – Harry wonders if she's going to tell him her real one or not – before she answers.
"Y/N."
/
"Did you enjoy the phone call from that one lass?" Niall asks Harry when he strides up to him at the movie theatre. It was actually quite early, the theatre wasn't even open yet but they knew, and they actually did this on purpose. The time of morning where only a select few shops were open in the mall and there were mostly older people walking around just to walk, was one of the calmest times to be in there. It was nice, and quiet (aside from Niall) and if they stay long enough, they get the food before the lines or the best seats in the theatre.
Harry's brows furrow for a moment, "You mean Y/N?"
"You got her name?" Niall guffaws, "You would wouldn't you – perfect, though, I knew the two of you would get along. Just alike the both of you, I reckon, only I don't think you could get me off."
"I resent that." Harry pouts – partly for effect and partly because he thought that Y/N had only been normal with him – for Niall to know that they were alike meant that she'd been normal with him at some point, "She's very sweet."
"Don't I know it," Niall hums, "After I busted right, she said, "Okay, well I think I'm gonna make some soup, I hope the carrot bits are as big as the soup can says", and I was thinkin' right away, Harry would love her." Niall grins, "Anyways, enough about your budding romance, d'ya want tacos after the film or should we just sneak them in?"
/
Harry's spread out on his tummy in bed, with his comforter in the washer but his sheets are sprayed with febreeze and clean. The tv is on low but there's nothing on, and there isn't much else to do, so he scrolls up in his chat with Niall and doesn't hesitate to click over the number. He's met with the seductive saxophone and sultry voice, and he agrees to pay once again. It's the same time of night so he wonders absently if she's asleep or not but the phone clicks over and he's met with, "Hey, pudgy fluff get off me, m'trying to stretch."
Harry suppresses a laugh, "Y/N?"
"Harry!" she chimes, "S'you! Been ages since I've heard you last."
"Like, four days, dear." Harry replies.
"Exactly!" she exclaims, "Ages!" he can hear her fumbling around, a noise bubbling from her similar to a grown and Harry bites at his lip, "Wanna hear my stats for today?"
"Shoot." Harry rolls over onto his back, his fingers splaying out over his chest and he taps an untrained beat onto it.
"Alright so, 58 calls today; 26 nutted fast; 3 daddy kinks; 4 who wanted to call me mommy; 2 who wanted me to talk about taking it up the ear; a whopping 18 who were very intense, and dom–like; 2 talked about coming on me; 1 was really derogatory with his name choice so I hung up on him; 1 who called to tell me my parents would want more; and finally 1 you!" she sounds like she's reading off from a list, and he really thinks she might jot these down, honestly (And he'd be lying if he said he didn't really like the "1 you!" part because it makes her sound like one of those motivation speakers and he thinks she'd be really good at that, with how charismatic she is). "What was your day like?"
"S'nothing," Harry murmurs, "Slept a while, ate a lot, Niall came 'round and took some of my pot roast."
"Oh, I love pot roast! Have you got carrot bits in it?"
"You like carrots, don't you?" Harry questions, a smile tugging at his lips and he thinks that if he could see her, she'd be nodding again.
"Only cooked, really, otherwise they're bland," she sighs, "Have you got the chopped up potatoes where you could like, mush them with the carrots and used salt to like sprinkle over – oh gosh, I want pot roast."
Harry thinks that he wants to make her a whole batch just for her, and send it to her house – that'd be nice. She'd certainly appreciate it and if his mom taught him anything about cooking, it was how to make a damn good pot roast, so he knows she'd certainly like it. Maybe if they'd known each other in real life, this would be his way to spark her interest in him romantically, because he thinks he'd certainly be very interested romantically with her, but what does Harry know? All he's heard is her voice.
"Mm, you could probably get it in a frozen meal," he murmurs, brushes his earlier thoughts away, "How's your pudgy cat?"
"Oh she's good, really good. Stuck her paw in my mashed potatoes and then had the nerve to get hissy at me." Harry shuts his eyes, listens to her voice because Christ it's so lovely. He thinks that maybe if she read his Anatomy book to her, he would hate himself a little less for taking the class. Soft and warm and bright – like a caramel candle, really. Harry could listen to her all day.
Harry sighs, "You've got a nice voice." and he doesn't know if he actually meant to admit that aloud or if he was just to sleepy and too out of it to care, "S'like listening to one of those – like you know that feeling you get when you listen to blizzard noises but you're in your in your room, wrapped in a blanket? Like that." He hears his dryer stop tumbling and sighs again, blinking his eyes open slow and has to force himself to roll out of bed to go get it.
"Thank you, Harry, that's very nice but," Oh god. She's going to call him a creep isn't she? ",I think I like your voice better. Stuck in that maybe you just woke up, low drawl that I really like." Harry feels his lips curve up, "Honestly I thought you were supposed to be a sex line I was calling."
Harry laughs and tugs his comforter all warm and toasty from the dryer, stumbling back a bit from the force of his pull, "I don't think I could get people off with my voice as well as you, Poppet."
/
Harry doesn't actually realize how much he's been talking to Y/N until he gets his phone bill. His eyes widen, because he hadn't exactly expected it to be that much on his bill, and they widen even more considering that they'd been talking basically every late night the both of them were up (which was basically every night). He wishes he could just get her real number – he feels like that would be so much easier – but he doesn't want to just ask.
So when he talks to her next, late at night, the conversation had only been at ten minutes long when he saids, "Alright Love, I've got to cut these shorter. You're expensive."
"But," she had started, and Harry could hear the pout in her voice, ", you're my favorite call of the night."
Harry's heart does this thing that it really shouldn't with a girl he's never actually met.
"Okay," he murmured low, "We can talk for a little longer."
/
Harry is sitting in Sociology when it dawns on him that he actually might never meet Y/N. It makes him sort of sad and grumpy thinking about it, because he feels like the two of them could be such good friends. The life of the party they'd be – everyone would want to hangout with the two of them together because it'd be double the fun.
And it's not like Harry's pining for her or anything like that, but it's not a bad thought thinking about being with her even though he hasn't seen her. As cliché and cheesy as it sounds, he knows that inside she is beautiful, so he figures it really wouldn't matter to him if outside wasn't some flawless being. He wonders if she expects some ripped, bulging biceps, smooth ladies man but in truth Harry was soft on the edges, clumsy, and at least 5 times out of 10 he'd trip over a few of his words when talking with someone.
Harry hasn't really gotten to imagine her as anything yet. He wouldn't want to make her a cookie cutter version of a girl like you'd see in a movie or on ads in magazines, because Y/N is too good to be cookie cutter. If he was forced to imagine her he couldn't because he'd have to come up with every freckle and every mark, with every stretch line and crease, with every hair and every mole. He'd have to think up the pieces of hair that just wouldn't go right, and the not so cute face she makes when she's had a long day and is staring at her computer. He'd have to come up with how many chins she gets when she's slouched on her couch and watching sappy love stories play out.
There is just too much that he would have to think about in order to make Y/N, Y/N, if that makes sense.
So for now she's just a happy voice over the phone but Harry is okay with that.
/
".......3 who wanted me to describe my feet; and 1 you!" she chirps, "You called early tonight, is everything alright?"
Harry sneezes, blinks his eyes hard because they're watery and suppresses a mantra of coughs, "No, not really," he mumbles into the phone, "I'm sick like – I think I've got a bit of a fever, but there's important stuff over our next test tomorrow and I can't miss it."
"Oh that's no fair, Harry. In what class is it?"
"Psychology," he sighs, reaches for a tissue and says an apology before blowing his nose, "And I can barely keep up with that class with how the professor is. She's nice but a lil' flighty."
Y/N gasps over the phone, and it's such a sudden noise that it makes him jump in his bed, "Have you got Greenberg?"
Harry's brows furrow, "Yeah, how did yo–"
"I have Greenberg!" she exclaims, "Harry you stay home and rest, alright? Take a bath as soon as you wake up then make some tea, and have Niall bring over a broth or something, I'll take the notes and tell you what to write tomorrow night!"
"Oh, Love, you haven't got to do that." he tells her, though the sound of it is enticing, just staying home and sleeping. He does feel rather shitty.
"No, no, it's alright, I've gotta take the notes anyhow! They might be a little scrambled and here and there but they're on paper at least."
Harry decides then, that he thinks Y/N is absolutely amazing.
/
Harry is soaking in the tub the next day, when he realizes how easy it would be to meet Y/N. They go to the same school, share a professor, and probably live within such close proximity of each other. He could simply just tell her he wanted to meet, but he didn't technically want to pop the serene little bubble the both of them live in while on the phone. Where there is only him and her and Pudgy Fluff the cat, talking about anything and everything, cozy and tight knit (like a sweater).
Though he wonders if Y/N would even want to meet him, or if this was just something she did because she was bored and Harry wasn't constantly asking to nut off to her saying she's wearing lacy panties (which Y/N explained is a boldface lie. "I'm wearing these underwear from Walmart and they're like – really boxy, they're almost boxers but girl boxers – period panties, technically."). Harry wonders if she would be willing to meet her so called favorite ring of the night, and he hopes that she would be. Hopes that if it ever did come up and he asked that she would be more than willing – maybe ecstatic even.
Harry heaves a breath and lowers himself deeper into the tub, blowing away lavender scented bubbles.
/
Harry has a dream before his fever breaks. It's all swirling colors and a pretty voice, with him sat in the middle on a fuzzy rug and a cat crawling into his lap. He's confused but content, especially when the voice talks about blooming Wisteria flowers and nicely frosted cupcakes.
/
When Harry talks to Y/N, he never actually thinks of it as talking to someone meant to be making him come. He views it more as like talking to an old friend, who he's grown so accustomed to their ways that he's subconsciously started looking for carrots on soup cans ingredients, just so that he could tell her about it later. The old friend that gives him small little twirls of butterflies when she says something about liking his voice, or his puns, or when she's listening intently and asking questions when he's telling a story and not zoning out on him. The old friend that makes his heart do weird things sometimes, but he just tries to ignore it because it'll make his head hurt if he thinks about it too long.
So when he actually starts getting hard one restless, antsy day, because maybe the very dry porn that popped on TV got him a little hotter than he'd like to admit – it's safe to say, he felt a bit anxious and different. He would ask her to help him but he doesn't want to be that guy – doesn't want to be the guys she has to deal with all night, because she's his favorite and he always figured it's since he didn't make her get him off. He didn't want her to think he was just using her or something, but it was starting to ache.
And he could just simply hang up – say that he needed to go or that he was tired – but he didn't necessarily want to.
"......2 who called me Kitten; and 1 you!" she finishes her statistics with a chirp and Harry thinks maybe – maybe he could just get off without her knowing. It'd be easy if he could get her talking about something that could keep her going for long and all he'd have to do is hum in response – maybe then he could just tug one out fast.
"Hey, Y/N, remember when you told me about the one documentary – the one with the whales?" he starts, and he tugs his boxers down just to his knees, "Can you tell me about it again?"
"The one that used to eat the people? You mean Blackfish?" and God, Harry might be going to hell. He forgot that damn whale ate people, but it was something Y/N really got passionate over and she'd talk forever about it if she could, so he hums in agreement and waits for her to start.
He tries to tune out some of what she's saying because he feels like it would make him soft (it's quite sad, actually) but he listens just enough to make out her voice. All velvety and smooth, he wants to dive into a pool of it and have himself completely enveloped in all it's glory. To swim through the way she says simple words (like dandelion, bathtub, lavender...) and long words where Harry wonders how she even learned how to pronounce it (like Laccaria amethystina, and Callophrys rubi). He wants to listen to her read Shakespeare's sonnets, or an Old Queen's schedule, or the ingredients on a pasta box, or just anything at all really.
Harry thinks that if he just keeps listening her, then the throb of his cock might quicken.
And he just keeps going at it, squeezing and slipping his hand up and down his cock. Precome bubbles from the tip and makes him all slick when he pulls at himself, tucking the phone between his shoulder and ear so he could use his other hand to cup at his balls. He runs his thumb over them swollen and full, wishes that he had more than just Y/N's voice with him. His breathing is labored but he tries to keep it unnoticed, only barely paying attention when Y/N starts talking about how Orcas shouldn't be held captive and he murmurs sounds in agreement that come out more like moans, but he hopes she doesn't notice. His body is hot and he's sweating and every touch at his dick makes his toes curl and his eyes squeeze shut.
"Harry?" Y/N's voice seems more abrupt in this way, it makes him jump and he hums, "Are you – are you like, jerking off right now?"
Harry would stop – he would spew apology after apology and beg for her forgiveness – if he weren't so far gone right now. Instead he just murmurs a pitiful sounding "yeah" and he can hear Y/N giggle on the other side, "Sorry," he speaks through his teeth and he knows he doesn't sound very sorry, because it's mixed in with something that sounds like a groan.
"S'okay, I don't mind it." she answers, "Do you need – like – do you want me to help?"
Harry whimpers, "Just keep talking. Your voice – love your voice, gets me – it'll get me off, please just keep –"
Y/N doesn't make fun of him for getting choked up, but instead starts talking about a certain flower that she wanted to plant in her garden and Harry just listens to the tone of her voice. Warps it into something where she was riding him, spewing filth into his ear about how thick he felt and how wet he made her. How she wasn't going to last if he kept doing that, and how she wants him to come on her soft, smooth belly.
Harry's hips raise up into his hand, foreskin drawing back with a drag over the wet head and he comes loudly, with thick ropes of white on his tummy and Y/N's words slowing to nothing as she listens to him and he bites down hard on his lip. Makes it red before licking is tongue over it and trying to even out his breathing.
"Are you alright?" Y/N asks softly, and Harry shuts his eyes.
"Yeah, just – I'm all messy now." he huffs a laugh, looks around for something to wipe himself up with and finds a few unused napkins from his earlier Taco Bell run. He wipes himself up sloppily, just enough to get his jizz off the surface but his skin is still sticky.
"I wish I could be there," Y/N says, but she sounds like she doesn't even know she's saying it, "Like to lick it up, 'cos if you wipe it all it just goes to waste when it could go in my mouth and it makes me so, like – I don't know, I like swallowing."
Harry's cock twitches at that.
/
"Christ man," Niall exclaims, a piece of paper in his hands as he's sat with his legs spread on Harry's couch, "Have you seen how much your phone bill is?"
Harry snatches the paper from his hand, "You can't just go around and read other people's mail, Niall, don't make me call Maura and tell her she raised a heathen." He folds it into halves, then into fourths, then sets it down on his coffee table. Of course he'd seen how much the bloody phone bill was, it was his house. His open mail, and of course he'd seen how expensive it was, but he'd already accepted his fate and he didn't need Niall fussing over it.
Niall rolls his eyes, "It's 'cos you're still talking to the bird on the phone, yeah? Didn't know you could nut off so frequently."
Harry's brows furrow deep, shaking his head, "I don't call to nut off. I call to talk to her."
"She's really got her hooks in deep, doesn't she?" Niall poses the question while plucking up a magazine Harry had lying on the couch, "Reeled and now she's gettin' paid tenfold."
"S'not like that." Harry says frowning, because it wasn't like that. Harry was Y/N's favorite call of the night, and they had very nice conversations for a large amount of time, but they were both happy. At least he was happy – he assumes she felt just the same though, if the tone of her voice is anything to go by. Not for a second would he think she's just keeping him talking so that she could get more money, and even if shewas (which she isn't), then Harry feels like he would've noticed a lot sooner than 2 months after the fact.
Though Niall is insistent, "You could bet your bollocks it is," he says thoughtlessly, "Wouldn't doubt it for a second. She's in college, works late at night...keeping a sap like you on the phone wouldn't take much."
Harry tries to suppress the frown that arises on his face, and he goes about tidying up instead of listening to Niall. He's dumb and doesn't know what he's talking about – Harry decides – that Niall can tell him he's being tricked, when he can finally tell the difference between a girl liking him and a girl wanting to fight him.
So he shakes his head, places the rest of his mail and magazines at the corner of the table before lighting his Sparkling Limeade candle in the center. He's sure Niall means well, and that he just wants him to be careful with his money, but he doesn't like to second guess himself. He doesn't like second guessing his entire friendship with Y/N, as just some way for her to make money. It couldn't be, it just couldn't be, because they understood each other and laughed at each others jokes, and dare Harry say he has a crush on her, and that's not something anyone could just fake is it?
"Oh god," Niall begins, "You're – you like her, don't you?" Harry freezes for a moment, biting on his lip before preoccupying himself with the nickels and quarters that had fallen out of his change jar, "Harry, you've not even met her yet!"
"I don't like her – she's nice, is all." Harry mumbles.
Niall sighs, rolls his eyes, "Yeah, nice. Just don't get hurt man, would hate to see it. Best to just stop callin'"
Harry nods, scouting out the remote so that he could turn on the tv and drown Niall out.
/
Harry, no matter how hard he tried, couldn't forget about what Niall said. It had never crossed his mind before that Y/N's intentions would be anything but sweet and lovely and bright, just like she is, so the mere thought of it makes his tummy feel squidgy and sad. Makes him feel deflated, upset, and just all around rotten, really.
He'd tried to tell himself again and again, about a million times, that it wasn't like that. That Niall has no idea what he's talking about and he's just jealous or summat because Harry is talking to someone as beautiful and amazing as Y/N is, and he'd only gotten to nut off to her. He didn't get to hear her talk about Wisteria flowers or the simple art of making buttery noodles. He didn't get to hear her make those weird little grunty noises when she stretches, or when she scolds her cat as if she can actually understand her. Niall didn't get to hear Y/N's soft, fluffy pancake – like voice, so that's why he was trying to make her seem so bad.
Harry knows it's a lie though, because Niall doesn't care about all those things. He's just worried, because it would be so easy for Y/N to do as Niall thinks she is. To just talk to him, keeping the conversation fresh so he won't want to hang up, and keeping him up till all hours of the night so that she could make more money. The thought of it – that everything was fake – makes his head feel like a muddle of gross feelings, and he keeps second guessing himself and tripping up and he hates it, because if there was nothing to worry about he wouldn't be worrying.
So maybe she is using him. Maybe he's only a convenient way to make money and to keep from falling asleep too early in the night when you've got to pay the bills. Maybe to her, Harry was nothing but a notch in the belt that she deals with holding a fake smile and pretending like the jeans aren't already too tight on her waist, and the belt isn't just a fashion statement. Maybe to her, Harry is just a dumb boy, who likes listening to her talk about whales and types of peanuts.
There was too many maybes for Harry to feel alright calling her that night, so he doesn't. He takes to actually doing his homework instead of paying attention to the dynamics of shutting curtains in theatre, and though he feels rather lonely and sad he presses it back, because it's not like he's met her anyway.
/
Harry doesn't call back for a few days after that – almost breaks and dials the number when Blackfish comes on HBO – but refrains and just watches it alone instead. During some parts of the documentary he takes note of what they're saying, subconsciously thinking about telling Y/N all that he had learned but he tries to cease the thoughts the best he can. It doesn't matter if that dorsal fin thing she was always talking about actually made his heart hurt seeing the whale's own droop, because he isn't going to tell her, because he isn't going to call her, because he isn't damn dependent on it.
He doesn't need to call her, it was just something to do – he tells himself – that's how it started and that's how it'll end: just as something to do.
Harry curls into himself, pulls the comforter around him tighter, and wishes he could swim with whales (and Y/N).
/
It'd been around three weeks since Harry had spoken to Y/N last, and honestly he thinks that this is good for him. He was getting far too attached to this girl he'd never even met and that's not healthy he doesn't think. This is better for his bank account and his state of being and with a little help from Niall he was able to stroll by the soup aisle without stopping and checking for carrot bits. Though he has nice dreams about her every now and then, he doesn't really mind that because it's sort of comforting, actually, but he ignores himself.
So now he's out with his mate Liam, instead of trying to recover from being up till 3AM and Liam mentions something about dropping off a documentary about giraffes at his friend's house since he'd borrowed it. Harry vaguely remembers hearing about that before, but he really isn't sure from where, so he shrugs it off and agrees to going with him before they go meet Niall up for footie in the park. Harry follows Liam in, because he hates being stuck in the car alone (especially in Liam's because his car radio is really tech-y and weird, so he can't ever work it).
Liam just opens the door right up, and points his head towards inside as if to motion Harry to follow along with him. Harry snorts, because Liam kind of looked like he was meant to be in one of those spy movies, before a picture of a Ferris Wheel catches his attention. He remembers Y/N saying something about having a Ferris Wheel poster hung up on her wall, but then he wipes that thought away because he isn't going to think about her. If he thinks of her then he'll call her and have to explain why he was MIA for three weeks and more money out of his pocket (which he had a lot more of since he'd stopped calling).
Liam calls a series of Hello's but none of them are answered, which is soon understood as they walk into the living room and there is a girl asleep on the couch. She looks like she'd just flopped over atop of all her papers, snoring soft and her limbs all sprawled everywhere. Harry holds back a small snicker, because her shirts rucked up and her pants are slung low enough he can see the bananas on her panties. She looks cute, Harry wonders what she'd look like with her eyes open.
Liam nudges at her body, "Hey, Y/N wake up!" Harry's eyes widen, and he thinks he can feel the blood drain from his face. It couldn't be....she couldn't be. There's no way, really, there are plenty of Y/N's in the world, probably, this can't specifically be her.
He nudges her particularly hard and she startles, snorting awake and shooting up. A paper was stuck to the side of her face and her hair was disheveled – she looked distraught and confused until she pulled the paper from her face and looked up at Liam, "You can't do that, Liam, do you want me to have a damn heart attack?" And oh god. Oh god, that's her voice. She looks to him, "Who's that?"
Harry thinks he might faint, as he digs his nails into his palms, because that is her voice and he was meeting her like – like right now, and she doesn't even know it's him. "M'Harry." he answers, voice low and Y/N's eyes widen and her lips part a little bit, running her tongue over them. Harry feels something nudging at his leg, and when he looks down he sees a pudgy cat trying to get between his legs, and oh god.
"Holy shit!" she exclaims, standing up far to quick and the cat wobbles away as fast as she could, "Holy shit, Harry!" she moves around her coffee table, throws her arms around his neck, and holds him tight. A smile pulls at Harry's lips, because he's meeting her and she's warm and smells a bit like fruity pebbles, but it's so great.
"So I take it you two know each other?" Liam asks, an amused gleam in his eyes.
"More or less." Harry answers, sliding his arms around her waist and holding her tight, because they're meeting and it's like seeing an old friend from years ago.
"Is this the boy you've been gushing about?" Liam questions and Y/N jerks back from Harry for a moment, leans down to her box of tissues and tosses it at him, "Ow!"
"Can it, you heathen." she mumbles, before nestling herself back into Harry.
He wonders for a moment if she was angry with him for not calling for such a long while, but he decides to brush that all away. She was here with him now, and she was real, and he didn't have to pay to hear her voice. It was perfect – it was perfect, and lovely, and sweet, just like she is.
"Do you want to come with us to the park?" Harry asks her, "We're gonna play footie and maybe get smoothies after, if we beg Liam enough."
"Oh fun! I wouldn't want to intrude on testosterone time though, so if –"
"Nonsense!" Harry cuts her off, "Absolute nonsense, come with us."
Liam doesn't seem all too opposed to it but even if he did Harry wouldn't care, because Y/N always talks about how much she loves smoothies and he wants to buy her, her favorite. She slips on her shoes and stays in her pajama bottoms, zipping up a jacket rather than taking off her tank top, and maybe Harry's really far up Y/N's ass or she's the most gorgeous being he's ever seen, because she can pull the "I honestly just woke up" look with no problem.
Harry thinks – no he knows – that today, was going to be nice.
/
(It was nice. Really nice. Harry thinks a few of the nicest moments were when Niall met Y/N and he gapes a bit because he's nut off to her voice before and she was standing besides Harry, so close that he could feel the warmth radiate off of her. Another fun moment was when she cheered him on when Harry got the ball from Liam, and Liam gasps calling out, "Who's side are you on?" to which Y/N replied "The winning one" and it makes Harry grin wide. He also really liked when they got smoothies and when Harry nudges her aside so he can pay for the both of theirs, she gets all smiley and happy, trying to pay him back but he refuses, and she presses a kiss to his cheek. The only part he didn't like was when they had to drop Y/N off back home, because Harry wanted to take Y/N home with him, but he's got her number now.)
/
Harry messages Y/N later that night, not bothering with an introduction but sending "What were the stats of today?"
His phone rings a minute later, and a smiles twists at his lips when he answers and Y/N chimes, "1 you!"
/
Harry and Y/N had just settled on watching Blackfish at Harry's place while Y/N goes on and on about how lovely his couch is. She flops down besides him on it, and stays like that a majority of the film until it gets somewhere in the middle and she's tearing up. Then Harry offers her a cuddle and she's crawling on top of him, shifting so that she could see the screen but still pressed so close to him it makes Harry's heart flutter.
It's after the movie, when Y/N's all sad and pouty about the whale still being held captive that Y/N questions why he hadn't called her for such a long while. He contemplated lying to her – telling her his phone was broken or summat – but her eyes are wide and she looks so concerned, "Had I done anything wrong?"
Harry explains to her the best he can about his inner conflict and about the money and about her, and Y/N listens. She listens and nods, just as he imagined she did when they were on the phone. He's about to apologize at least 20 times before Y/N surges forward, presses her lips to his in a kiss in a way that has his heart racing, because she tastes like a smoothie and her lips are soft. His fingers dig into her sides when she presses a little firmer against him, her eyes closing and Harry's follow suit. She parts her lips with no real preamble and Harry's tongue flits into her mouth, where she tastes even more like Very Berry smoothie.
They shift a bit, so that Harry could kiss her deeper but she draws back before he gets the chance.
"You're an absolute ninny Harry!" she says, slugging him in the arm but her punch was so light he barely felt it, "I talked to you because I liked you! I didn't wanna seem like a creep for asking for your number, I thought I was just something to do for you."
And Harry shakes his head fast, holding her close to him and tries his damndest not to just kiss her all over.
"No, never, you're so much more to me than that." Harry says all dopey eyed, "I wouldn't spend nearly as much money on a hobby as I did you."
Y/N smiles wide (and Harry really doesn't think he'll ever get used to actually seeing her smile),before wrapping her arms back around him and lying her head on his chest.
Harry thinks that maybe he's going to make Y/N pot roast soon, and that he's going to buy her so many things with carrot bits she'll never have to worry again. He thinks he'll buy Pudgy Fluff a new toy or two, so she isn't always biting Y/N's toes. He thinks he's going to by Y/N thousands of documentaries, and a hard copy of Blackfish or maybe even a real orca.
For now though, he's just going to hold her close for a little while.