Harry Styles

I didn't know there even existed such a thing as a shower curtain of a cat riding a horse in the galaxy... until I set foot into Amber's bathroom.

I mean, sure, I knew certain parts of her apartment were decorated in an... unique way, but it wasn't until my alarm rang at 7 am, and I had to go shower, that I realized her bathroom is the most interesting of them all.

I try to be as quiet as possible stepping out of her shower, my feet touching the 'Twilight' bath mat. I try not to wince when my toes touch Edward Cullen's nose.

This early in the morning, I really don't want to wake Amber up, considering her work at her studio starts much later than mine does. It's going to be hard to fit our schedules together, but, hopefully, we'll figure something out.

I thread my fingers through my hair to comb them in a way that doesn't look too tragic, pulling on my boxers and jeans. I feel a water droplet slide down my shirtless back, as I wipe the condensation drops from the round mirror with the palm of my hand. My sight falls to my face in the reflection, tracing the darkened circles beneath my eyes.

Surprisingly so, this is the best sleep I've had in months; if not years.

More curiosity crawls up my spine to see what other decoration she's got in this very room. It certainly takes a lot of trust for Amber to let me freely walk around her apartment while she's asleep, so I make sure to avoid any action that may be considered snooping.

My eyes simply trace around the few shelves she's got beside her sink, scanning over the few bottles of skin-care products, until stopping on an eccentric collection.

It takes just a second and a touch of my fingertip to conclude that it's a collection of soap figurines.

About a dozen shapes are laying on the wooden shelf, and at least 10 of them look like they're store-bought. Somehow, I get the feeling they're not actually meant for washing hands, considering they were so high up.

They're very pretty, each shaped in a different form, yet looks like the majority was bought to match or mask one particular piece that caught my attention.

The one I'm looking at right now stands out from the rest. Taking a closer look, I take a wild guess that it may have been hand-carved.

It takes a deeper inspection for me to realize that it's a butterfly figurine. A beautiful one, at that — its lines are rough like it wasn't done professionally, yet still classy enough to know the person's had some practice.

I make a mental note to myself to ask Amber about the rare collection some other time. I carefully place all the pieces of soap onto the elevated shelf, making sure they're back in the places they originally were on.

Remembering that my shirt's worn by Amber right now, a splurge of excitement creeps up in my chest, realizing I've got the opportunity to wear something from her closet.

Sneaking my way into her bedroom to retrieve a clothing article, I catch a view of Amber laid out on her bed, her arms wrapped tightly around a pillow. One of her legs is tucked underneath the duvet, whilst the other is out.

She's got a pink glow on her cheeks, her rosy lips slightly open as she murmurs small sleep-like phrases with each breath she draws out.

She has such nice hair.

I blink my thoughts away, realizing I've stood in the middle of the room for over a minute. I turn to open the closet door, my eyes dropping onto the compartment Amber allowed me to grab anything out of.

My stomach flutters in thrill at all the crochet and knitted articles she supposedly made herself. My fingertip traces all the different vests, tops, and gloves until stopping on a stack of sweaters.

I pull out a single brown jumper, no patterns littered across it. Something about the simplicity makes it so special. I find a white t-shirt to wear underneath, quickly pulling it over my head along with the knit article.

For some weird reason, I continue to stay still for a moment, engulfing myself in the soft feeling of the clothes. Maybe it's the laundry detergent, but they're both so soft, I don't think I'll want to take them off anytime soon — even if it's summer.

To top it all off, I perch the blue sunglasses on the top of my head, knowing they really don't go together with my outfit, but I don't seem to care.

The clothes even smell like cinnamon. They smell like her.

I steal a glance at Amber once more, wishing she'd get a bit more sleep. I've noticed that she tends to get some rest whenever I'm near, considering the dark circles under her eyes don't leave for multiple days if we've spent some time apart.

To get away from the overwhelming feeling I get when I look at her like this, I make the quietest steps I've ever made in my entire life, silently slipping inside her kitchen.

I feel my cheeks heat up a bit, noticing a few buttons that went flying from my dress shirt scattered on the floor, so I pick them up — one by one — and throw them in the pocket of my jeans.

Now, I had my alarm set up to have the time to go out on a morning jog before heading to the studio. Since I didn't know I was going to spend the night here, I'll have to skip my usual workout, reckoning I've got no proper attire.

With all this time left until I head to work, I suppose I could have a quick breakfast. Excited to have my stomach full for the day, I turn to open her fridge... only for it to be absolutely empty.

Well, maybe not absolutely empty; there's a half-empty bottle of ketchup, ranch, and a few remnants of other condiments, yet there's nothing to actually eat.

After a long search for things like fruit or vegetables on other shelves (many of which were also hauntingly clear), I conclude that she doesn't have any, already feeling a deeper frown slip onto my face.

She doesn't have anything to dine... yet she still goes out of her way to buy me gifts.

...Out of which she still hasn't asked back for.

She's way too fucking good for me.

Out of impulse, I make a quick decision to head to the supermarket around the corner.

Walking slowly into the store, I try to focus on only getting something for breakfast for her. Milk and cereal.

Though, standing in front of the wide choice of cereal, I figure it won't be as easy as I thought. I spend at least 10 minutes thoroughly going over all of the options, trying to understand which one's the best.

"Well, this one has no added sugar... But what if it tastes like shit?" I mutter under my breath, growing frustrated while grabbing a somewhat appealing box. "This one has pretty packaging. But wait, does she even like honey?"

Another five minutes go by with me trying to choose between the different boxes until a brief memory flashes past my mind of Amber eating regular Cocoa Puffs on the airplane from London once.

With the chocolate-flavored cereal and milk now in my shopping basket, I go to the cash register, only to turn back when other questions pop up in my head.

What if she likes to eat cereal with fruit and berries? I gotta get those.

What if she wakes up so late, that it'll be lunchtime already? I must get something saltier as well, then.

Pasta. I remember us arguing about what kinds are the best when she mentioned she liked the bowtie ones.

I add 3 megapacks of farfalle pasta to the shopping basket.

Surely, she eats it with some type of sauce, right?

But does she eat pasta with only ketchup? Or does she add cheese? What if she thinks marinara sauce is better?

I add all three to the basket.

After about an hour of making overthought choices... I walk out of the market with 5 full shopping bags.

I swear, at the time I was still in the store, the thought of buying so many items didn't seem that crazy because I'd wanted to prepare for each case scenario.

Right now, unloading the shopping bags into the shelves as quietly as I can, I have no idea how such a thing as an 8-piece magnet set of 'Twilight' characters got in the bag.

Now that I'm putting them up on her fridge, with Bella's frightened face staring right back at me, I realize that it might've been a bit too creepy to buy. I ponder for about a minute if I should take them off, before deciding to just leave them on the now-full fridge.

Checking the time on my phone, I realize that I'm actually running late, so I order an Uber, watching as a countdown appears on my phone.

3 minutes.

I must admit I've tried to go places on foot as much as I can, now that I've noticed Amber doing that every day. Though in these running-late cases, I have no choice but to order a taxi.

I honestly have no idea how she does it. Even when we traveled to Italy, I'd asked her multiple times if she wouldn't rather move around the city in a car, but all she did was insist on walking or cycling. She'd said it's more eco-friendly, anyway.

2 more minutes.

Right now, I tell myself I'm walking into her bedroom just to make sure I haven't left anything important in there when in reality I try to steal one last glance at her before I leave. I lower myself onto the bed next to her, silently watching a single strand of her hair flapping up and down when she exhales soft breaths.

The whole duvet is now shuffled to the foot of the bed, only her feet left underneath it. Somehow she's managed to get the pillowcase and the bedsheet off the mattress, making a chuckle reach past my lips.

I didn't know it was even possible to sleep like that.

A few notifications ring through her phone, but I'm way too occupied with mine when I receive a message that Uber is already here. I quickly stand up and pull the edge of the blanket over her shoulders, fixing it in a way that she'd be warm.

I'm about to leave but then stop in my tracks to do one last thing. I cautiously tuck the loose curl behind her ear, smoothing it down in a few gentle motions.

"Have a nice day, baby."

~~~

"Harry. Are you sure?" Kid warily asks, scanning over my journal. He looks over the lyrics I just wrote on the way here, a deepened frown appearing on his face.

"Absolutely." I fight back, feeling a new kind of excitement splurging in my veins.

"You want to write a song about... a sunflower?" A tinge of skepticism is heard in his voice, the empty window of Ableton waiting up to be filled up with some kind of music on the computer.

"Exactly." I take back the notebook with all the lyrics, tracing my fingertip over the leather case. "Listen. It would be just an experiment. If we don't like it, we can just change up the lyrics or scrap it."

This seems to be the thing that convinces him. "Alright. Let's see what we can do."

We walk around the empty studio, only the two of us here. The rest of the team will be joining us a bit later, and we'll work around here for a bit more. So the initial songwriting process always starts with just Kid and me experimenting.

I skip to the page with the recently scribbled lyrics across, grabbing a guitar that has a softer tune, while Kid goes off to his computer, waiting for me to give him the vibe so that he knows what we'd be working with.

As per usual, I try out different chords, frequently moving the capo around to understand the exact sound I want to reach with my Voice Memos app open. After doing some searching, I finally stumble across a progression that seems to fit. I try to pick the three chords as softly as I can, realizing I should probably just wait for Mitch to get here, and put him to work.

"Sunflower." For some reason, a fucking grin climbs up to my face, when I sing out the single word. I just have this fluttery feeling in my chest I've never really felt, and it makes me want to burst into pieces the more I think about the vase of sunflowers on Amber's kitchen counter, and all the events leading up to yesterday.

"Sunflower, my eyes want you more than a melody.
Let me inside, wish I could get to know you.
Sunflowers sometimes keep it sweet in your memory.

I sing out the lyrics with the most confidence I have, knowing this song's already my favorite.

"I was thinking about something like that." I stop my slightly-off strumming, telling Kid this is what we're going for. With the nod of his head, he's lost in the computer again, in search of the right effects and instruments for the production.

I continue jamming on the guitar, trying out different melodies and lyrics, until ending up on one that I absolutely adore.

"I couldn't want you any more:
Kiss in the kitchen like it's a dance floor.
I couldn't want you any more
Tonight."

I belt the lyrics out as hard as I can, not singing for Kid anymore, but rather for myself. I feel like I need to express the overwhelming feeling, and this seems like the perfect outlet.

"Styles?" He interrupts me in the middle of the next verse, an excited gleam in his eyes now. "This is exactly what we've been after."

His words spread my grin even wider because, for the past week, we've been trying to write something for the next album that feels right, but our attempts had been unsuccessful. It brings so much joy to hear we're on the right path now.

"Yeah?" I can't spread my smile any wider.

"Yeah. Now get your ass up, and let's record it." He lightens up the room, plugging a bunch of shit into the audio interface.

For the next two hours or so, we play with the musical part of the song, trying to figure out the form of what it's going to be. I couldn't stop some ideas and experiments flowing out, to which Kid raised a questioning eyebrow, but was open to the new style I was striving for.

We'd finished recording and smoothening out the first verse, when Kid stopped his work at the computer, perched his arms behind his head, leaned back in his chair, and teased, "Well... Someone's got you pretty bad, eh?"

I looked down at the floor, feeling a tad embarrassed because I didn't think I'd been so obvious. I raise my sight back at him, watching the cocky grin being so prominent, only making me admit, "Can't get her off my mind, yeah."

To that, he clapped his hands together in success, "Would you look at that? So whipped already. When will I get to meet her?"

"You already have." I deadpan, only making him widen his eyes.

"What? When?" He seems to slip into a deep train of thought, trying to remember the people I've recently introduced him to. "Who?"

"It's Amber," I admit, this time in a proud tone. It feels so good to finally be able to say that.

"I FUCKING KNEW IT!" A new voice from behind me exclaims. A bit frightened, I turn around to watch Sarah's amused features inspecting me carefully. Next to her stands Mitch, who also has got a smirk displayed on his face.

Looks like they've been listening to our conversation for a while.

"Yeah, yeah." I teasingly roll my eyes. "I bet you actually had no idea."

To that, Sarah just lets out a huge laugh I've never experienced her making. It's almost scaring me in a way. "You act like it hasn't been so obvious the whole time." She points to the blue glasses in my hair. "I mean, it's cute."

"Whatever." I turn around so that nobody can see the upcoming smile on my face. I don't even know why I'm feeling this way. I'm definitely not ashamed of dating Amber, it's just that I haven't been with anyone like that for a long time, and it makes my stomach do cartwheels whenever I talk about it.

The more I move around the studio, the more I'm engulfed by the cinnamon scent radiating off the sweater Amber let me take. It's driving me fucking crazy, to be honest.

With the shake of everyone's head and a knowing smile on their faces, it's time for Mitch and Sarah to record their part of the song, and add their input to it with Kid, which leaves me to take a small break in the lunchroom.

I plop down onto the couch, feeling a bit tired from everything yesterday. I hear something chiming from my pocket.

By now, I know better than to pull out my regular phone because there was a notification of a twinkle, meaning it's the flip phone.

I flip open the device, watching as a few voicemail notifications have rolled in. I'm actually quite surprised she's using the feature, considering nobody uses it anymore.

With a few clicks on the small keyboard, I can finally listen to the messages she left. Checking the timestamps, I conclude she called a little after I'd left her apartment.

"Heyyyyyy... boyfriend." Her voice sounds like she's just woken up, but her tone raises with the last word. A few seconds of silence go by before a squeak of a mattress is heard, meaning she's still in her bed. "I just wanted to know if you even listen to voicemail."

"If you do... say something like ''assumption'' when I come by later. And if you don't... well, that's just awkward."

My cheeks hurt from smiling so big when she lets out, "Until then, I'm just gonna pretend you do listen to this." She yawns. I fucking love it. "Oh, also! I can't believe you've still got the standard automated voice setup. I must admit, I was a bit spooked when I heard some other dude answer."

"Well, anyway. Hope you have a nice day! Byeee!" Her voice cuts off, being replaced by another a few seconds later.

Beep.

"To delete this message, press two. To save it, press three." The automated voice speaks slower than I usually do. "To hear this message again, press four."

I make sure to press three before the next message manages to switch on.

Beep.

Her voice has changed up completely, making my heart drop to my feet in a matter of seconds. "Are you out of your damn mind, Harry!?"

Yikes?

"There's no way you just filled up my whole kitchen with food!" There's some scrambling in the background, making me think she's looking through all of the shelves.

"Harry, no! This must've cost a fortune. You can't do that!" Even with her infuriated tone, I feel a tiny smirk appearing on my face at the way she's so flustered.

"I-I mean, apples, tomatoes, three kinds of milk... Fucking caviar??" She sounds more overwhelmed than mad at me now. "Jesus, how many flavors of yogurt are there? How am I going to manage to eat all of this?"

She sighs after a minute of scrambling. "Sorry if I sound unappreciative or anything; that's totally not the case."

I can hear her pacing the room, as she gets all the frustration on me. "I'm just so shocked, Harry. I mean, it's not every day you wake up to have your—" Then, she suddenly stops, about 10 seconds of silence going by. "Wait. Are those... Twilight magnets?" To this, though, there's a prominent smile in her voice.

"No. Fucking. Way." She lets the words out one by one, surprise heard in her voice. "First of all, how did you even find these? That's so amazing!"

Now I'm a full-grinning mess, trying to hide my smile from Mitch and Sarah around the corner. She then halts her sentence, spending a few seconds to think about something. "Second of all," Her voice is more high-pitched now. "How dare you place Jacob next to Bella?"

"I'm sorry to break it to you, but if you're not