Lennon.
Breakfast wasn’t exactly what I would describe as ‘fun’. The only sounds emitting from the room were forks and knives scraping across the China plates. I couldn’t sleep past five despite being exhausted. I slipped out of bed and sat downstairs by myself watching the morning news until seven, when I thought it was an appropriate time to start preparing breakfast.
I wasn’t feeling too peachy but I swallowed the sickness I was feeling and managed to fry up a decent meal. I wasn’t a particular fan of a traditional fry up, I preferred something more savoury, but I knew Harry craved bacon, eggs and hash browns like a heavily pregnant lady.
By the time everything was cooked, people were slowly emerging into the kitchen - the smoke alarm going off whilst I was frying tomatoes probably didn’t help their sleep patterns. I flashed each of them a sheepish smile as I laid all the food out on the island in the middle of the kitchen.
Harry was the last one to appear, his torso was still bare and my eyes were lingering too much to be acceptable at the breakfast table. His sweatpants hung low on his hips with the waistband of his boxers barely covering his V lines. I wondered if he’d ever considered modelling because I’d buy every copy of Vogue if he was in it - although I was slightly bias.
No one mentioned anything about yesterday, I couldn’t tell whether this was a good thing or bad. It felt like there was something heavy hang in the air but no one wanted to talk about it. I ate my toast in silence, Harry beside me, gave the occasional satisfied grunt as he ate his food.
“Don’t know what I’m gonna when you move out Len, I’m a growing boy, I need someone to cook my breakfast every morning,” Niall was the first one to break the silence of the morning. I chuckled and shook my head at him.
“Don’t even think about making a move, this one’s taken.” Harry replied swinging his arm around my neck. I scowled up at him, poking his side to get his attention.
“I’m not an object to own you know.”
“If you wanna make a move with Niall be my guest, but I’ll have you know he hasn’t got anything impressive to show you.” He smirked, the pride glistening in his eyes.
“And you’d know that because?”
“Don’t listen to him, he’s just jealous because I’m a real man.” Niall jested, tensing his arms as if to show off his muscles - which I was having trouble seeing if I’m honest.
“Just because you have about three chest hairs does not make you a man.”
“You’re cutting deep now, they’re my pride and joy.” He began rubbing his chest and frowning deeply at Harry. Harry rolled his eyes and squeezed my shoulder even tighter.
“Go back to swiping right on tinder, I’m sure you’ll find at least one girl who won’t block you after you send them one of your bloody awful one liners.”
“My pick up lines are great!”
“What’s your favourite silverware? Because I like to spoon, is the worst pick up line I’ve ever heard.”
“What you talking about? That one’s great! It really gets the ladies going.” Niall defended himself, hands firmly gripping his hips in protest.
“I’d love to meet one girl that has worked on.”
“Harry leave him alone, he’ll find someone who puts up with his …ways at some point.”
“Thanks Lennon, at least one of you is nice.”
“Just maybe, try introducing yourself instead of the pickup lines, they’re probably not doing you any favours.”
“What am I supposed to say? Hi I’m Niall, I like beer and I’m in a gang. I think the pickup lines would be better.” He sighed, slumping back into his seat. Everyone was listening in on the conversation but no one else was actually conversing.
“Tell them you’re Irish, most girls swoon over the accent.”
“Oh do they?” Harry quipped, raising his eyebrows.
“Don’t worry, your sophisticated accent is still number one.”
“Sophisticated my arse, he just talks slow to sound more intelligent.” Niall mumbled under his breath, not looking up from his lap. I chuckled loud enough for Harry to cast a glance in my directions. I grinned and dodged his stare and disappeared from the kitchen without another word.
I don’t know who’s legs were bouncing up and down more. Harry was leant forward, his elbows resting against his jolting knees as we sat in the waiting room at the local GP surgery. My knees were jittering, I didn’t go to the doctors all that often in my life. The unfamiliar surroundings, the stranger who would be prodding my body and the strong smell of cleaning chemicals in the air made the butterflies in my stomach swarm madly.
“I don’t know how you managed to get an appointment so soon, especially on a weekend.” I mused, looking straight ahead at the poster in front of me which had a rather graphic picture of a piece of bacteria on it flying through the air. Harry leant back and wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me tightly into this side.
“It’s amazing what you can do when your name is Harry Styles.” He answered smugly. I refrained from rolling my eyes and sighing.
“You secretly just bribe everyone don’t you, no one actually know’s who you are.” I smirked up at him. He rubbed his lips together before he opened his mouth again.
“Lennon Rae.” The doctor called out before he had a chance to reply. “Ah, and Mr Styles, pleasure to see you again.” He held his hand out, though I was the only one who shook it. Harry grunted and nudged his head in the direction the doctor had just come from. Harry didn’t exactly have great relationships with anyone outside the gang so it didn’t surprise me he wasn’t best mates with the local surgeon. “I’m Doctor Raymond, I’ve known Harry since he was a little tyke. Never seen him smile.” He spoked almost as if Harry wasn’t actually in the room with us.
“He smiles… when he feels like it.” I awkwardly responded. Harry remained silent but made himself at home in the corner of the room on the only office chair in the room, leaving the doctor ineptly stood next to me as I sat on the edge of the bed.
“Anyway, moving on. It’s nice to meet you Lennon, Harry’s explained a few of your symptoms to me over the phone last night but I’d like to ask you a quick few questions before we start any sort of examination.”
“Right, okay.” My eyes darted between the two, Harry must have arranged the appointment before he had even discussed it with me last night. I didn’t know whether to be thankful he cared so much or uncomfortable that he had done so behind my back.
“Let’s start with the simple stuff, date of birth?”
“31st of December 1994.”
“Making you nineteen?” I nodded as he typed away at his computer. “How long have you had the symptoms of sickness, painful stomach and fatigue?”
“Well, probably since I was 13 or whenever I hit puberty it just gets worse every year though.”
“Is there a family history of these symptoms or a medical condition?”
“No, not that I know of.”
“How often do you drink and, or smoke?”
“Occasionally and I’ve never smoked.” I mean I had, once. At a nightclub when I was eighteen and thought smoking would be a fun thing to try when I couldn’t even walk in a straight line. One drag was enough to make me question why anyone would ever do it drunk let alone sober. There was no thrill, just a cloud of smoke filling my lungs.
“Are you sexually active?”
Harry looked up - a pompous grin on his face. “Yes.”
“And how many partners have you had or do have?” I almost wanted to laugh that he would even insinuate that I had more than one partner, especially at once.
“Just one and if he doesn’t wipe that grin of his face it’ll soon be none.” His smile fell and slumped back down, arms crossed tightly across his chest.
“Is there any chance that you could be pregnant?”
“No.” I didn’t skip a beat before replying, the doctors eyebrows rose at my hastily response.
“Would you mind if we did a test just as a precaution?” I nodded. “Before we do that, if you just want to lie down and get yourself comfortable will begin the examination.”
Relief was leaving the surgery in one piece. I hated being poked and prodded, I despised random people touching my body - even if it was for the better. We wouldn’t find the results of the tests until at least next week.
I pulled my coat tighter around my body and nuzzled my face into my scarf. My arm was looped through Harry’s as we walked in step slowly through the wintery streets of the centre of London. It was packed everywhere, everyone was doing Christmas shopping - something which I hadn’t even thought about yet. I knew what I wanted to get Harry but I hadn’t actually got around to buying it.
“How you feeling?”
“Peachy.” I mused, smiling at him. He pulled his body closer, which I didn’t even think was possible.
“Do you fancy going to south bank and wandering through the market?”
“I’d love to!” I had never been to a proper Christmas market, I was always working right up until the late night of Christmas Eve. I didn’t exactly have a family to run home to before.
“I can’t remember the last time I ever had mulled wine.”
“Well I’ve never even had it so..”
“You’ll love it.” He cheered, slipping our arms apart and latching our hands together. His pace picked up and we were almost skipping down the street.
The smell of mulled wine, German bratwursts, wood baked pizzas, fresh donuts and churros smacked us in the face as we approached the market. I wasn’t feeling sick anymore, like I had been at breakfast. For once I actually felt normal, and to celebrate I was going to eat anything that looked edible until I passed out.
Harry wasted no time filling our hands with a cup of this so called mulled wine which was supposedly really good. I had to admit the smell wasn’t appetising and once the liquid hit my taste buds I cringed. I shook my head and handed the cup back to Harry, who was drinking his effortlessly.
“Really? You don’t like it?”
“Drinking something spicy and hot is just weird. It tastes odd.”
“Okay mulled wine’s off the menu, let’s get a beer. What do you want to eat?”
“Anything deep friend and covered in chocolate preferably.”
“Coming right up m’lady.”
“So sophisticated.” I replied sarcastically, jesting upon the conversation at breakfast.
We walked for probably hours, the sun was setting behind the sky scrapers and the crowds only grew and grew with the dimming light. I was almost waddling due to the amount of food I had consumed - I had to try everything, I’d have to wait another year for another Christmas market, why waste the opportunity?
Harry had grown tired of my photography antics. Apparently taking a picture of every stall was unnecessary, let alone taking fifty couple selfies in front of random features of the market. I just wanted to remember the day - Harry’s grumpy face in the pictures would make great Christmas cards. Not sure he’d think so though, but he didn’t strike me as the person to send cards, so what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
We were both slightly intoxicated and bursting out of our skinny jeans, his were skinnier than mine somehow and I was surprised the button hadn’t flown off by now. We both grunted as we walked slowly towards the road that led away from the market back into the city centre. The London Eye was all lit up, looking very festive and I couldn’t help but smile. It looked so memorising. If I hadn’t been so full up with food I would have dragged Harry ice skating, I would have paid good money to see him fall on his butt.
Just as I stopped Harry, pulled out my phone ready to take a picture of the Eye something on the screen caught my attention. Harry was heavily sighing, not even paying attention because he was ready to throw my phone in the river any second now. I shook his arm hastily, eyes still widened.
“Uh Harry..”
“I’m not taking another selfie, you have enough to fill a photo album or two.”
“No that’s not what I want.”
“What is it?”
“Your mum is walking right towards us and she doesn’t look very happy.”
He whipped his head around to where I was focusing on. I had faced gang members who looked less scary than his mum when she looked this angry. She marched right up towards, her index finger pointed at me until she was a foot away.
“You.” She seethed, eyes glaring at me and her finger aimed straight at my chest. I gulped, trying to comprehend what was happening. Harry stepped in front of me, guarding me with his body. I clung onto his jacket for my life.
A/N I don't think I've ever gone this long without updating before, i'm so sorry. :( is it bad that i cant actually remember the last time i had a day off from uni or work. ive actually reached a point i dont know what day it is anymore. anyway i wrote this instead of the 3 essays i have to write for next week, what sort of professor gives students 3 essays in the second to last week of term to finish before we break up? where is the logic in that. blah. i'll update sooner next time...i swear.
oh and thanks to anyone still reading this story! i know its frustrating when people dont update all the time, so im amazed if there's still a few of you still here <3