Harry's P.O.V

Isabelle and I climbed out of the car, making our way up the steps to mine and Louis’ flat. Louis wasn’t here at the moment, it was simply Eleanor, but I couldn’t blame him. I had a feeling that if he knew that his girlfriend was pregnant, he would never leave her side.

I gazed over at Isabelle, watching her. She was so beautiful. Her long, chocolate waves cascaded down her shoulders, and her brown eyes were alive with excitement. She’d dabbed on a bit of cherry chapstick, and I suddenly itched to feel that flavour against my own mouth. She was dressed in jeans, a white long-sleeved knit sweater, and her black Converse, a black fur-lined jacket zipped up her body. I took care to notice every little thing about her. The way the corners of her mouth were always turned up in a small smile lately. It made me smile.

She peered over at me and smirked, “What?”

“Nothing,” I said simply, shrugging, reaching out and wrapping an arm around her shoulders, “I just love you.”

She laughed, putting her head on my shoulder before taking it off and ringing the doorbell. She leaned up to brush some of my hair out of my eyes, something that my black bandanna should’ve been doing, but I didn’t really mind.

A few seconds later, the doorknob fiddled, and swung open to reveal a very vibrant Eleanor. She was dressed in overlarge sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, her hair tied in a messy ponytail, but her bright smile and equally bright personality made up for it. Her feet were bare. When she saw us, she broke into an even bigger smile, squealed, and rushed forth to embrace us.

“Congrats!” I said, laughing.

She buried her face in my shoulder, sighing, “I’m so glad you know. Now I don’t have to lug around this big secret.”

“Hey,” Isabelle protested, “I knew.”

Eleanor giggled and patted her tummy. I gazed down at it, finally noticing the slightest baby bump.

“Wow,” I marvelled, like seeing it was finally enough proof to believe it, “You’re really pregnant El.”

“I am!” she squealed, flashing me the most excited smile ever. I returned her smile and ushered us all inside, not wanting anyone to recognize us.

Isabelle and El chatted about things while I closed the door, kicking off my shoes. I turned around only to find both of them disappearing around the corner and into the lounge. Chuckling, I followed.

Isabelle plopped down onto the couch, El taking a seat on the sofa opposite her. I sat down next to my girlfriend and pulled her shins onto my lap, so that her long, toned legs draped off of my calves.

“And you guys have to help me pick out names,” Eleanor gushed, “I don’t know if it’ll be a boy or girl yet, it’s too soon to tell, obviously, but let’s just go with ‘what if’s for now. I was thinking maybe…Lyla for a girl?”

“Sounds perfect,” Isabelle nodded, answering right away. I couldn’t help but to notice that she seemed just as excited, and I smirked. She really loved kids. For a moment, I flashed back to my vision of coming home to her, rubbing her swollen belly and kissing her hello. She’d complain to me that she’d put on another two pounds, and I’d just laugh and tell her that she was beautiful and I loved her, and that she’d lose all of the extra weight once our little baby girl was born.

“Harry?” I blinked once, my gaze landing on her. Her eyes were gazing up curiously into mine.

She frowned lightly, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” I cleared my throat of the lump that had begun to form, “Yeah, what did you ask?”

She and El shot each other a look before giggling. Fuck, what was with girls and all of the giggling? I didn’t mind so much though. I got to hear the girl I loved laughing, so it was a win-win situation.

“I asked,” she drew out the word, and I cracked a smile, “What name you liked, if it were a girl? El likes Lyla, I like Cassidy. How about you?”

“Erm,” I bit my lip, thinking, “Darcy. Definitely Darcy,” then I looked at El seriously, “But you can’t name your baby that.”

El pouted, “Aw, why not?”

“Because,” I said simply, and then wrapped an arm around Isabelle, pulling her into my chest, “That’s going to be the name of our baby.” I nuzzled my nose against Isabelle’s while she blushed and smiled widely.

Eleanor cooed and clapped her hands lightly, “You guys have already started to talk about children?”

“Yes,” I said firmly, proudly.

I was proud that Isabelle wanted it to be my baby growing inside of her. To have the product of our love living in her for nine months. I wanted that more than anything, but I bit my tongue to keep myself from spilling it out. It would only put pressure on our relationship and on her. I was moving far too quickly, but then again, nothing about our relationship had been slow. I had kissed her after two weeks of knowing her. I’d admitted that I was in love with her after three and a half weeks. And now here we were, about six weeks after our first encounter, and we were already talking about children. I wasn’t ashamed to admit that I was completely comfortable with this bullet-train pace we were travelling at.

Isabelle laughed at my certainty, cutting me out of my thoughts. I looked down at her and smiled lovingly, my smile only growing when she returned the warm gesture. I didn’t care that Eleanor was only a few feet away, I cupped her cheek and leaned down to kiss her softly. She reciprocated for a moment before pulling back, looking at El apologetically.

But Eleanor had different plans. She waved us away, “Don’t worry about me, I’m not that pregnant and hormonal yet. I’ll go into the kitchen and make us some snacks.”

“Do you want help?” Isabelle made a move to get up, but El shooed her back down.

“No, no,” she tittered, “I’ll only be a few minutes. I’m not hobbling yet.”

Isabelle smiled but watched her go nervously. I nudged her shoulder, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she cleared her throat, tearing her gaze away from the doorway that El had just disappeared through and gazing at me, “I just feel bad. Louis doesn’t know yet, it’s only you, Perrie and I, and I feel like I should be doing more, you know?”

I nodded, understanding, “I know, love,” I sighed, wrapping an arm around her and resting my cheek on the crown of her head, “But Eleanor will be in good hands as soon as she comes clean to everyone else. Trust me.”

“Shouldn’t we be helping her now though?” she questioned, her voice small. I pulled away, grasping her chin and making her look up at me.

“Hey,” I said sternly, gazing into her chocolate eyes, “Don’t be like that. You’re a saint, baby, and you do so much for everyone around you. Just…take a break, yeah?”

She hesitated but then nodded once, “Okay.”

I sat back, feeling like I accomplished something, “Good,” I said, closing my eyes for a moment. I sighed, and opened them again, turning back towards my girlfriend, “Now come—”

I cut myself off when I saw the empty spot on the couch beside me. I looked up only to find the last tips of her hair whipping out of the doorway.

“Belle,” I groaned loudly, and I sat up sluggishly, making my way over to the kitchen, where I could hear Isabelle and Eleanor’s giggles ringing in my ears.

Isabelle’s P.O.V

Harry and I were lying comfortably in bed, our bodies entangled, cocooning each other. I was dressed in pajama bottoms and a bandeau; he wore boxers. His chin rested upon the crown of my head, and I sighed, nudging my face a bit deeper into his neck. He adjusted his hold around me, breathing out deeply, and I couldn’t help but to smile. I still couldn’t believe he was all mine. Millions of girls would die to be in my position right now, embraced lovingly by Harry Styles, but it just so happened to be me.

“When do you think she’ll tell him?” he asked quietly. I knew that he was referring to Louis and Eleanor. I sighed again, growing tired of the topic. But I’d known longer than Harry, so he was still getting used to it, so I sucked it up.

“I really don’t know Harry,” I said lightly, “But I hope it happens soon. I can’t wait to see his face.”

Harry chuckled along with me, no doubt imagining how Louis would react to the news. I tightened my hold around his lower back and inhaled his cinnamon scent, a scent that I’d been around frequently yet never tired of.

“Do you ever think about it?” he asked my, his voice simply a low murmur.

“Hmm?” I mumbled, closing my eyes, feeling drowsy already. I had a feeling that I’d fall asleep very soon.

“You know,” Harry said, “Having kids?”

“Mm,” I sighed, taking a deep breath and exhaling, feeling my chest rise and fall with the actions, my diaphragm contracting and releasing. I always did these kinds of exercises to help me fall asleep, but lately, it had been an action that I couldn’t control, that my body had grown accustomed to and did every night. I didn’t mind though.

“With me?” Harry pressed quietly.

I was suddenly wide awake. A swarm of emotions washed over me. There was anger at Harry for continuously pressing the topic when I’d told him before that I’d wanted to leave it for the future; there was sadness, knowing that we were discussing this meanwhile we didn’t even know if we’d be together; there was nervousness of saying the wrong thing; and finally, there was fear. The fear of rushing this topic, the fear of rushing our conversations, the fear of rushing our whole relationship in general.

It had been slow, but I’d begun to feel as though this was an unhealthy pace for our relationship to travel at. It had only crossed my mind once or twice, both for brief periods of time, and it had begun when Harry had told me that nobody would ever love me as much as he did. The thoughts and worries had ebbed at me, slowing taking over my mind, all the while being stealthy enough to avoid my attention until it was too late.

I was crying, and I sniffled. A tear fell onto Harry’s collarbones, and he pulled back, gripping my shoulders, gazing at me with a concerned expression.

“What is it?” he asked worriedly, his brow creasing, “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” I sat up, wiping my eyes while he mimicked my actions. He softly trailed his fingers up and down my arms, but I shrugged off his touch, and he froze, hurt etched into his features. The thought of hurting him made me cry even harder, knowing that what I was about to say would hurt him enough.

“I just—,” I paused, debating whether I really wanted to go through with this.

Half of me was screaming no, knowing that I couldn’t go without him for even a day, knowing that I loved him too much, and urging myself to drop this diabolical idea. But the other half, the more sensible and intelligent half, was nodding its head solemnly, encouraging me with the promise that this was what would be best, and we would both benefit from it in the end.

“—we need to stop this,” I whispered brokenly, my hands dropping limply into my lap. Harry was silent, gazing at me with his mouth propped open in a cute little ‘o’, his jaw dropping even further as he realised.

“What?” he said loudly, and then grabbed my face, “Please baby. Please no. Don’t do this to me.”

“No,” I blubbered, realising what he’d thought I meant, “I just mean—we’re going to fast Harry! It’s not healthy! This is what we need! Not—not breaking up—,” I took a deep breath, my cheeks soaking wet from the salty tears spilling down my face, “—just to slow down. We need to slow down,” I said in a whisper.

If it were possible, Harry’s face fell even more. His eyes went from dull and sad to enraged, furious and hard.

“What?” he spit, recoiling from me. I watched him, my mouth open, trying to say something but failing, as he stood up from the bed, pacing, his hand buried deep inside his messy quiff.

“What do you mean?” he said harshly, glaring at me, making me shiver, “Be with you, but not be able to love you to my full extent? That’s crazy Isabelle! That’s fucking insane!”

“Harry I—,” I sobbed, but he cut me off, acting as though he’d never heard me.

“Is that what you really want?” he demanded, “You’re asking me to slow down? Why don’t we just break up?”

My hands flew to my mouth, and I sobbed again loudly, knowing that the vacant house wouldn’t yell at us to quiet down. Nobody was here. El had left after Louis had arrived, to go to her place, so we could be as loud as we wanted.

“You don’t mean that,” I almost accused him in a whisper.

He shook his head and ran his fingers through is hair, stressed and anxious, looking pained. He sat back down on the bed bluntly.

“You’re right,” he said, but his voice was just as venomous as before, “I don’t. But I sure as hell don’t want to slow down! Fuck!” he swore loudly and then his head whipped back to look at me, “What was wrong with the pace we were at? Huh? What was the fucking problem? Because I sure as hell didn’t see one!”

I closed my eyes, more tears slipping out and down my cheekbones.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered brokenly, heaving a deep breath, finding my airways clogged. He shook his head, pursing his lips so hard that the skin around his perfectly beautiful mouth had turned white.

“No,” he said firmly, “You’re not.” He then did something that surprised me. It was moments and actions like these where I truly believed that he was bipolar. He laughed.

“You know what?” he said, laughing hard, standing back up, leaving me a confused mess, looking up at him.

“Fine!” he said, still laughing loudly, but I knew that it was forced.

He glared at me, his laughing abruptly cut off, “Fine,” he repeated quietly, and I almost begged him to keep using his loud tone; his quiet demeanour put me on edge, and I couldn’t stand knowing that I was only a few feet away from a ticking time bomb.

“Let’s slow down,” he shrugged calmly, but I knew that he was the farthest thing from calm right now.

“Let’s slow down,” he said again, and then smirked at me, “But let’s make this interesting. Whoever gives in first, whether it is wanting sex, or heated make-outs, or touching in private areas—,” he chuckled, “—loses. And the winner gets a full night with the loser, and the loser has to do whatever the winner wants.”

I was so scared. The gleam in his eyes was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. It was devilish, evil, like he couldn’t wait to humiliate me, and I gulped, forcing myself to go along with it.

“F-fine,” I said shakily, closing my eyes and internally cursing at how unsure I sounded.

Harry kept on that same mischievous smirk, the corners of his lips curving upwards in the most horrendous of ways.

He chuckled quietly, leaning down close to my face, which was still wet. My tears had stopped, but I hadn’t bothered wiping away the excess water littering my cheeks, and it had begun to dry, making my skin obtain the sensation of being parched.

Our faces were only inches apart. Suddenly, he jolted forward, just so that our lips brushed casually as he spoke.

“If you thought I was irresistible before, baby,” he grinned at me, “You’re in trouble.”

I stared into his eyes until finally; my gaze flickered down to his lips. His body rumbled with a low laugh, and my intake of breath was sharp and audible. I was already craving him, how would I last?

He pulled back, turning away from me and crossing to the other side of his room. I watched the muscles in his back expand and contract as he walked, taking in his entire backside, only clad in his boxers.

“Where are you going?” I called out weakly, my voice coming out cracked. I hated how vulnerable I sounded, hated how I only comforted him about his sure victory, hated how I only built up his ego, and just hated myself in general.

He wrenched open the door, not turning around to look at me as he yelled out, even though we were in the same room, “It starts now! You want to slow down, fine! But that means no more sleeping in the same bed. Good luck baby!”

He slammed the door.

I just sat there dumbly, staring at the door, my eyes wide, looking like I’d just seen an alien. Which—in a way—I’d had. I’d never seen Harry this way before, and frankly, I never wanted to again. It frightened me.

But I couldn’t give in. We’d begun this…bet, of sorts, and I wasn’t about to let him win that easily. There was no shame in trying, right?

But shame was the only thing that filled me as I collapsed backwards on the bed and began to cry.

Notes

Here is your long and well-deserved chapter, my babes! Holy shit. Drama is coming in the next few chapters, trust me ;)

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