MARCH 23, 2018.
— LONDON, England
The searing voice of a young Stevie Nicks blared through Adrian's earphones as he lay amongst blankets in the light of the morning sun. His eyes began to droop, but were soon interrupted by the vibrations of a phone call. He clicked promptly, and placed the microphone on the headphone cord to be resting near his mouth.
"Harry?" He said groggily.
"Yeah, love."
Adrian smiled sleepily. "How are you, Mr Rockstar?"
"I'm feeling really great. I feel terrible that you've been so ill—"
"Why?" Adrian chuckled lightly.
"Well, you had to take the brunt of the New World promo, and I feel like that could have been triggering—"
"No, no, none of that. This stuff happens, nothing of it your fault. Turns out my brain has actually been inflamed, so stress wasn't really a factor."
"Oh—I—" Harry didn't know how to respond. "I didn't know it was that bad, have you been in hospital? That's not my business... Is it better?"
"H," Adrian said, saying his nickname aloud for the first time. "As I said, shit happens." He paused, hearing Harry's raspy breaths. "But yes, I'm getting better. I'm still in the hospital, have been for a week, but should be getting released soon. I have a lot of tubes connected to me, but I've had worse. It's depressing to talk about it though. We should talk about you."
"No, no—"
"Harry, that gift basket meant the world to me. You're a really great person, mate. Really fucking great."
"I—I just kept buying candy, but couldn't eat it all... I..." He laughed. "I'm a mess, I'm sorry."
"Far from it. How were your shows?"
"Good, good... Since Paris I've done Amsterdam, Antwerp, Stockholm, Copenhagen and Oslo. I got into Germany last night, play Oberhausen tomorrow night."
"That's a lot, H, Jesus."
Harry ignored this. "I wore the most fun suit in Amsterdam. I looked like a pirate, I'll send you a photo if you haven't seen one."
"Please do. What else did you wear?"
"Er—a somewhat basic maroon suit in Antwerp... This really cool pink grid suit in Stockholm... A blue sparkly piece in Copenhagen, and a weird mix and match red and black suit in Oslo."
"What's Oberhausen's"
"It's usually a secret, but I doubt you'll leak... A custom Givenchy red suit, I'll send a picture when I get it."
"Okay," Adrian said softly, warm and tired.
"You sound like you need some fun. Rest, but then fun." Adrian hummed in response. Harry continued. "I'm back in the UK in a few weeks... April eighth... No, eleventh and twelfth I'm in London. I was going to go for drinks with Fionn Whitehead after one of the shows. If you're free, please join."
"Join Mr Rockstar and Mr Dunkirk for drinks... I'll have to say yes."
"Great, you and Fionn will get on wonderfully. He's lovely."
"If he's friends with you, of course."
Harry chuckled. "What does that mean?"
Adrian was getting quite sleepy. "You are... So nice. Sunshine, you are."
Harry's end crackled with the sound of a smile. "As are you, love. You sound beyond sleepy, so I'll let you go." Adrian murmured agreements on the other end. "I'll text you later, then I'll see you in a few weeks. Oh, when's your birthday?"
"I am... Twenty-two on the fifth of July."
"So young," Harry remarked with a chuckle. He could tell Adrian wasn't awake enough to retain conversation. "I'll have to start thinking of a birthday present," he said, "maybe... maybe I'll take you on tour." Adrian was barely awake.
Harry sighed. "Sweet dreams, love."
!!!
just imagine harry's sleepy voice on the phone ugh so cute