She hadn’t meant for it to happen.
She’d done so well.
She wasn’t sure what triggered it but she felt useless and stupid ad embarrassed, to say the least.
Having grown up with an illness that caused her to have symptoms that would have an effect on her lifestyle from time to time, Rose had grown accustomed to her symptoms and her triggers and she had grown up to understand that she needed to give in to the urges for her not to become ill or retract an infection; and she was much more exposed to infections which Harry and yourself had found out through her childhood.
When she tried her hardest to hold herself because she was busy or because she didn’t want to miss her favourite part in a movie and she’d tried to prevent an accident from happening, she became ill and retracted a urinary infection that had her sobbing in Harry’s arms as he soothed her and sat with her whilst she relieved herself of her aching and pain-filled bladder. Her wet cheeks shining under the bright lights of the bathroom, her sobs echoing around the room and bouncing off the walls which broke Harry’s heart, her hands gripping at his fingers as he crouched in front of her with soft and soothing whispers rolling off of his tongue.
The both of you had spent copious nights together, sitting and listening to Rose as she cried in your shoulder over herself wetting the bed and ruining her sheets; because she felt shy and upset and she knew the both of you would be upset with her ruining her sheets, yet again. But you nor Harry could ever be upset with her – it wasn’t her fault that she had this infection and it wasn’t her fault that she had this illness and it wasn’t her fault that she couldn’t control herself.
It had been years of dealing with her sobs and her aches and her cries as she whined in pain and embarrassment, and you couldn’t have felt more pleased and proud when she grew into a girl who knew what she was doing when it came to having these urges, who knew when to relieve herself to prevent problems and accidents, who knew what her illness entailed and who knew how to handle herself in situations when her illness and her symptoms would be doubled.
And by the time she was 18, she felt confident in herself. She’d explained to everyone she knew about her illness, her friends becoming intrigued and supportive, with her boyfriend being her rock.
She’d woken up beside him in her bed, the red numbers on her alarm clock reader 03:24, with a dampening feeling in her shorts. The bed beneath her releasing soft squelches and her knickers sticking to her hips; she’d done it again. A gasp left her parted lips, her eyes stinging with sleep and with tears, as she pushed herself up on her hands and kicked the duvet from her body in a swift movement. The duvet falling off the end of the bed and exposing Connor’s boxer clad body. A whine leaving his mouth as he rolled onto his side, and it was then that she saw the wet patch on his covered bottom; she’d had an accident and she couldn’t hide it from anybody like she would usually – where she would gather and ball her sheets up and move herself downstairs, sheets and her duvet in hand as she stuffed the materials into the washing machine down in the pantry and it gave her time to change her sheets and put new ones on her bed, as she waited patiently for the cycle to be finished.
But she couldn’t do that now.
Not with her boyfriend laid beside her, with a patch on his boxers and the smell lingering in the air.
“Connor,” she whispered, her voice breaking as she switched on the lamp sat on her bedside table, “Connor, wake up. I’m sorry, m’so sorry. I didn’t mean to do it.”
She was panicking, unwillingly.
Her mind was swimming and drowning her and all that was going through her mind was the worst thoughts and the worst endings possible – Connor was going to leave her because he couldn’t be dealing with these unexpected accidents and waking up with wet sheets and wet boxers.
He woke from her strained voice, her hand tugging at his as she tried to coax him from his sleep. A sleep that he was enjoying because he’d never, as often, been close to Rose as the two of them were until this moment; her head against his shoulder as her warm breath fanned across his skin, his arm snaking around her body to hold her supportively to his relaxed figure, his head resting against hers with a cheek pressed to where her hairline began.
“Babe, s’the matter? S’happening?” He hummed, rubbing his eyes and rolling onto his back, the heels of his hands kneading into his eyes to swipe away the lingering sleep sitting at the corner of his eyes. He could feel it; the patch on his boxers that stuck to his skin. “Rosie, what’s happened?”
“I did it again, Con. I did it again and I didn’t mean too and-“
A sob escaped her lips.
“Hey, hey. No, babe. S’okay, I promise,” he whispered, sitting up and scrambling himself off of the bed, “don’t apologise, babe. It happens,” he cooed. He stood to his feet, the carpet soft beneath the pads of his feet as he shuffled over to Rose, a sob leaving her mouth as she tried to cover it with her hands. “Rosie, hey. Hey, look at me, babe. It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean this. I promise you, it’s okay.”
“This is why he dumped me. Because he was afraid of this happening. You can dump me, okay? I know you don’t want to have a girlfriend who pees on you all the time in bed,” she cried, his arms snaking around her waist as he pulled her to his body. “I don’t care if you dump me, Connor. I understand if you-“
“No, you silly goose. I’ve been with you for 2 years already. I’m not going to dump you because of this,” he chuckled, his lips pressed to her forehead, his plump flesh brushing over her skin with each word leaving his mouth. “Rosie, I love you and I’m supporting you as much as I can. I don’t care that you weed on me and I don’t care that it could happen at any time, okay? I love you,” he whispered, ending his sentence with a kiss.
He really didn’t mind.
He was in this for the long haul.
“Con, it’s disgusting, I know it is.”
In the heat of an argument between Darcy one morning, the slur of being disgusting and dirty had been thrown about, and Rose knew just how it looked to others. She was young, both of them at the age of 10, and Rose had been off of the routine of wearing a pad as she slept through the night – a routine the doctor had advised her to get out of at the annual check-up – and she’d done well in getting up when necessary and not sleeping over the urge of emptying her bladder before she slept.
And when it did happen, she was disgusting and she had a disgusting illness and it was an instinct that she thought that of herself everytime it happened.
“I don’t care. You’re too cute and you’re too gorgeous and that overpowers this,” he smiled, his hands brushing down her upper arms and resting at her elbows. “Babe, please. It’s more than okay. Let’s just get these sheets in the washer and I’ll run you a bath and I’ll sort your sheets out for you and we can cuddle back up and have a nice sleep.”
“I don’t deserve you, Connor,” Rose whispered, her voice cracking as she brushed her thumbs beneath her eyes and rid herself of the tears building up. “I love you so much.”
“C’mon now, babe. Let’s get these washed, hm?”
He pulled away from her body and smiled at her softly, her cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment as she watched him scan her body up and down. Her shorts damp and her legs covered in trickles dribbling down from the material covering her lower half, a frown forming on her facial features that created a dip between her eyebrows.
“Let’s get you in the bath, hm? You could use some relaxation at three thirty in the morning,” he teased with a smile ticking at the corner of his lips. “C’mon, babe. I’ll get you in the bath and then I’ll change your sheets and we can explain to your mum and dad what happened in the morning.”
“I tend not to tell them, but, of course,” Rose laughed wetly, wiping her cheeks. “Will you sit with me whilst I have a bath? It gets lonely in there.”
“Oh, come on, babe. You have a TV in there, how can you get lonely?” Connor chuckled, reaching for her hand and squeezing it in his hold. “C’mon. You deserve to be spoilt tonight.”
His feet took him across the carpet of her bedroom, the floorboards creaking softly beneath their weight as she followed him, her arm stretched to keep a hold upon his fingers; his digit curled around hers as he slowed his pace and opened the bedroom door, the cold air from the hallway flushing over his exposed body and forming goosebumps upon his skin; he’d been too focused on calming Rose down from the events that had happened to even consider sliding a shirt on to block the cool air filling the atmosphere of the house.
“Connor? Rose? What’s happening? Is everything okay? I could hear you from your bedroom.”
You appeared from around the bedroom door of your bedroom, a snoring Harry still laid beneath the duvet with his feet hanging over the end of the bed and his head pushed deep into the pillow. An old t-shirt of Harry’s hanging down your upper body with a pair of checkered trousers hanging down your legs, your slipper on your feet as you scuffed out of the room to stop your hushed voices from waking Harry up.
Silence engulfed the three of you as you stood there with your arms folded over your chest, your tired eyes wide and confused.
“Rosie woke up with a little accident again,” Connor explained, her hands on his hips as she stood behind him, her face pressed against his shoulder. “I thought maybe running her a bath and sorting her sheets out for her,” he smiled, looking up at you as you gave him a soft smile and a rub to his shoulder.
“Connor, please. You’re our guest, sweetheart. You shouldn’t be running around doing everything. You can sit with her and I’ll sort her bed out. Please, don’t run around for us,” you explained, “Rose could use you in the bathroom. Just, don’t tell her dad because he’ll freak out that you saw her in the bath.”
“Of course not,” Connor smiled, shifting to the side and letting Rose come into view. “C’mon, babe. S’okay, let’s go and get you washed and warm and cosy,” he cooed and pressed his lips to her cheek.
* *
“How does that feel hm? Are you relaxed?” Connor hummed, his knees bent beneath his weight as he rested his chin upon his folded forearms, his limbs resting against the ceramic of the tub. The room smelt strong of a lavender bath bomb you’d had stocking underneath the sink, in a wicker basket with others that Harry and the Styles clan had brought you for birthdays and for Christmases. “You look relaxed. Maybe too relaxed. I’m scared you’ll fall asleep in the water and drown.”
“My dad did that before. Mum said that when he used to stay around her apartment when they were just in a new relationship, he used to fall asleep in the bath and freak her out,” Rose giggled, dipping her hand beneath the purple water and scratching at her thigh softly; a habit she’d inherited from yourself when you would scratch in nervousness. “Dad teases her every so often now, and he pretends to sleep in the bath, just to get a reaction from her.”
It was during the nights when Harry was feeling playful that he would crack the teasing and the jokes and the humour from inside of him.
After a full day of working in the bakery down in the city of London – a job he’d taken up when he got too old to sing on stage and he got too old to dance around and belt lyrics from his chest – he wanted to come home and wash away his stresses of being in the kitchen and baking cakes for his shop to sell to those who were loyal shoppers and consistent buyers of his products. Baths were taken before dinner every other night when it got tough, where he would tease you and make the kids laugh with his antics, pretending to be sleeping with his arms folded over his chest and his chin dipped beneath the water level, bubbles tickling at the skin below his earlobes and the bridge between his nose.
It never failed to get a reaction from you.
From the first time he had stayed around your small apartment, curling himself as best as he could – because he wasn’t flexible and he’d been graced with the longest limbs of his family – into the bath in your small bathroom, falling asleep with the aroma of vanilla filling the room, to the continuous times in his early fifties, where he would close his eyes for just a mere second when he heard your feet come up the stairs to inform him that dinner was ready and that they were waiting for him to join them at the table.
“Ah, m’going to start doing that to you,” Connor teased, poking at her shoulder playfully.
“I wouldn’t try that. I’ll end up wetting myself from nerves,” Rose laughed, “and that’s not a pretty sight. I did that once, though. Alfie scared me one time when I came home from being at the park and I just couldn’t stop myself. Obviously, I was young so I couldn’t help it but he found it hysterical,” she strained through giggles, lifting her hand from the water and brushing her hair from her face. “I am sorry I weed on you. It’s so embarrassing. That’s never happened before, so, I feel so awkward.”
“You didn’t, babe. I promise. Just a little patch,” he smiled.
“I’m just thankful it happened around my house rather than yours. I think my dad stressed me out with all that talk about you-know-who,” Rose sighed, rolling her eyes and resting her head back against the the flat of the ceramic tub.
Her ex-boyfriend, Danny.
Harry hated him.
Harry was old-fashioned. Back in his teenage years, he liked to surprise a girl with flowers when they were going on dates and he liked to be the one to pay for the date after it came to a close. He was one to give his attention to the girl he was with, and he was one to treat them with respect and the amount of love they deserved. He hadn’t expected his youngest to bring a boy with such little respect home - and he remembered, like an added tattoo to his numerous collection upon his body, the time when she woke him from an afternoon nap with a tear-painted face and her head tilted down whilst she picked at her nails; and he need not do anything but pull her into a hug and rub her back as she cried into his shoulder.
And he didn’t want that to happen again.
And being strict with Connor was his only way to put his worry across.
- -
“Harry, hi. Thank you for having me tonight. I’m so grateful. My house is so boring when my parents go up North to see my grandparents,” Connor smiled, as he shook Harry’s awaiting hand a smiled widely up at him. “I promise, I won’t be any trouble. I’m so thankful you’ve allowed me to stay the night.”
With his parents being up North to visit family for the day, and with school coming to an end with exams around the corner, Connor couldn’t miss out on revising for his exams, and with him not feeling comfortable with being alone at nights, Rose had offered her bedroom and her company and her help for revising. And he’d taken it heartily and agreed and he’d never once turned down the opportunity to seeing Rose and her family as well as you and Harry, and he was always made welcome, whether he had an invite to the house or not.
“Connor, please. It’s okay,” Harry smiled, closing the front door with his hand and making sure Connor’s coat was hanging up on the coat rack. “I think Rose is in the garden with Alfie. He needed someone to kick footballs at him to practice his goalkeeping skills and everything. I can go and get her,” Harry offered, taking Connor’s bag from him and setting it upon the stairs.
“Uhm, sure. Thank you,” Connor smiled, wiping his feet on the mat before making his way through the hallway and into the kitchen; a kitchen that smelt great and homely and gave off a welcoming atmosphere that Connor loved to be engulfed into. “Mrs Styles, hello. It’s lovely to see you again. It smells delightful in here,” he grinned, a laugh leaving his mouth as you turned around in a startled manner, a gasp leaving your mouth. His words making you jump and a laugh leaving your lips as a response to your terror.
“Connor, hello, sweetheart. It’s lovely to see you again,” you cooed, setting the knife in your hand down upon the chopping board and proceeding to pull him into a hug, a small gap between you to make sure your dirtied apron didn’t mark his clothes. “We’ve got chicken wrapped in bacon for dinner, is that okay? Rose said you were a big fan of chicken, and I wanted to make something a little different from the last time you stayed.”
“Chicken and bacon sounds great, Mrs Styles.”
“Oh, please. We’re passed the whole stage of Mrs and Mr. I’m (Y/N),” you smiled, giving his back a rub before you pulled away from him. “Please, go through to the garden. Rose is out there with Alfie, and Darcy is out there at the table. Persephone and her fiancé Jack will be here shortly, and then we’re going to have a sit down outside.”
“That sounds great. It’s been so long since I’ve seen Persephone,” Connor stated, a smile tugging upon his lips as he watched Rose rush in through the backdoor, engulfing her boyfriend into a tight and much needed and loving hug. “Hey, babe.”
“You’re finally here. Today has been so boring without you around,” Rose whispered, grinning over his shoulder at her father who was standing in the doorway, his shoulder resting on the frame as he looked across the room. “I joke. Dad’s giving me a stare. He made today fun. We went out for lunch this afternoon and then he took me out for a special ice-cream,” she explained, pulling away from him and pressing her lips to his.
He didn’t spent a lot of time with his daughter, and when she proceeded to walk into the living room where her father was sitting, a bored expression on her face with a sigh leaving her mouth as she fell to the cushion beside him, he offered to take her out and she couldn’t ever turn down moments with her father; when it was just the two of them, a bond that they had becoming uneasy to break and tear away from them, and no matter how in love Rose was with her boyfriend, she would always find her heart longing for her father’s comfort.
“You two,” Harry chuckled, “I have to say, Connor, we are really happy that you’ve made our little girl as happy as we’ve ever seen her. I know we say it more, but, we mean it. I just worry about you,” Harry started, his voice going serious as he walked over to the fridge and pulled it open. “You know Rose’s ex boyfriend, right, Connor? His name was Danny.”
“I’ve heard of him, yeah. Rose has spoken awfully of him,” Connor responded.
“Well, I know you’ve been with Rose for nearly 2 years now, and we’re really happy that you’re so sweet and kind and very loving towards our young lady, but, we need to be sure you’re not in this for the piss-taking and the mockery that ensues. I presume you know she’s been teased a lot?” Harry hums, turning on his heels with a bottle of orange juice in his hands, knocking his hip against the door and nudging it closed.
“Dad, please. Connor’s really great and I love him and he is nothing like Danny. Stop comparing him to that arse,” Rose begged, her hand tight in Connor’s as he stood there, blushing cheeks and shifting his weight form foot to foot. “Can we just forget about Danny and what he did?”
Deep down, Harry couldn’t let it go. He couldn’t forget what happened. He wished he could let it go and he wished he could forget the tear-stains on Rose’s cheeks when he woke up to her sobs. He wished she just waited for the right guy to come along, to whisk her off her feet and hold her close and love her the way she deserved.
He wished she waited for Connor.
“Petal, I know you hate me bringing him up, but, I need to make sure that your boyfriends aren’t in this to make a mockery of you,” Harry warned, reaching up for a glass and unscrewing the cap of the juice. “I know you hate this, but, I need to make sure you won’t have another broken heart because some boy wants you for what he wants,” Harry stated, pouring the juice into the glass before setting it upon the counter. “I know Connor isn’t like that, but, I need to know that he’s not going to dump you and leave you heartbroken when he finds out your illness and what it entails and what the symptoms are.”
“Harry, I promise. I’m in this for Rose. I’m not nasty and I’m not like her ex-boyfriend, I can assure you. I love her. I’ve known about her illness for months now, and, I’ve seen her get taunted and I’ve stuck up for her and hissed back because she’s not worthy of those nasty messages and taunts told to her and everything,” Connor explained, wrapping his arm around Rose’s shoulders and pulling her against his chest. “I love her. I’m going to love her for as long as she wants me. Her illness is no issue for me, I promise, Harry. I would never take the mick out of her and I would never, ever say anything harsh about her.”
“I just need to make sure, Connor,” Harry smiled, turning on his heels with the glass in his hand. “I know you’re a good guy, lad. I just needed you to tell me, to put me at ease.”
“God, dad. Stop. Please,” Rose whined, rolling her head back. “Connor is great. Danny is a dick. Let’s drop it,” she smiled, a forced grin sitting on her lips. “Going outside until P and Jack arrive. C’mon. Alfie needs someone better than me to play football. I can’t kick a ball apparently.”
- -
“Honestly, babe, it’s alright. I understand where your dad was coming from,” Connor reasoned, leaning over and pressing a kiss to her cheek, his nose nudging against the crinkled skin by her eye. “I love you. I’m going to go and get your clean pyjamas. I think your mum’s brought some of Alfie’s boxers for me to wear.”
Being close to Alfie’s age, the two of them bonded exceptionally well, and the two of them as well as Freddie were always seen playing football on a Sunday morning – after Alfie claimed he was going for a morning run – in the park just across the road, before they were called to see where they were.
So, it wasn’t odd for clothes to be shared in times of need.
“Maybe you can put the sheets on my bed?” Rose whispered, rolling onto her side and propping her body up with her elbow. “I know it’s a bit much to ask, but, please. I’ll give you extra cuddles if you do.”
“I don’t mind. I just want you to relax. I’ll be waiting for you in the bedroom, alright? We can have a cuddle and listen to some music and just forget what’s happened.”
* *
By the time morning had rolled around, the two of them were cuddled up as close as possible, Rose’s head resting against his stomach – his t-shirt on her upper body – her arms around his waist, with the duvet covering their legs. The sun streamed through the window, a thin-line hitting the pillow Connor’s head was resting upon, his hair messed up and knotted and his cheeks flushed and warm. He could hear the sounds of pots and pans coming from downstairs as well as the loud laughter and bellowing yells of Rose’s family congregating in the room.
“We should probably go down,” Rose wisped, her voice soft and still full of sleep. “Probably won’t be much food left if Alfie is down there.”
A chuckle left Connor’s mouth.
“I thought you were sleeping, babe. You ready to go down, yeah?” Connor cooed, cupping the back of her head with his hand, her hair soft beneath his touch and smelling sweet and vaguely of strawberries and lavender; a sweet reminder of how relaxed she was just previous hours ago. “I’m getting a bit hungry, now. I can smell bacon and pancakes.”
“My favourite,” Rose grinned, sitting up on the bed and looking over his boxer-clad body. The t-shirt on her body being something she knew she needed to take off and pass back for him to wear, to hide his exposed body from her family because he felt disrespectful to walk around shirtless in a house that wasn’t his own. “D’you want this back?”
“If that’s okay,” he smiled softly, and sat himself up, kicking the duvet from his legs and standing to his feet. “I’ll go out on the balcony. Let me know when you’re dressed.”
His feet began to take him across the room, his hands pushing back the curtains and letting light swamp the room, drowning and painting the white walls of Rose’s bedroom with orange and blue and creating shadows upon the empty brick. A protest leaving Rose’s mouth before his hand curled around the handle of the balcony door, her words rolling off of her tongue before he pulled the door to him and let the room drown in cool air.
“No, don’t. Just stay in here. You saw me naked last night, so, I don’t think you seeing me change into a sweater is going to be any different,” she giggled nervously, shuffling her body off of the bed and standing to her feet, the carpet soft beneath her soles. “Can you get my that purple sweater from the wardrobe? S’my dad’s when he was my age.”
“Of course.”
He shuffled across the carpet, reaching for the handle of the wardrobe and pulling it open, the colourful array of clothes coming into view – her wardrobe starting red at one end with purple at the other, and he swore he felt his heart skip a beat from how cute she was, and he hadn’t any thought she could get any cuter to him. He’d seen her in a variety of colours and Connor found that there was never a dull moment – figuratively and literally – when it came to spending time with her.
“I don’t know why it’s like that,” Rose stated softly, her voice muffled as she removed the material covering her upper half, “it’s at the end. Pass it to me, ‘cause m’freezin’,” she giggled, folding her arms across her chest and huddling her body closer by hunching over. “We slept with the window open again.”
“Your mum opened it. Said it would remove the smell and stuff,” Connor explained, tugging the purple sweater off of the hanger and throwing it to his girlfriend as she scrambled to slide it on. “Right, I’ll meet you downstairs, okay? I’m just going for a wee and then I’ll join you.”
“Okay, I’ll make you a plate up. Mum’s probably set it all out neatly on the island for us all to pick at,” she smiled, sliding her slippers on, “do you want anything in particular?” She hummed in question as he smiled and shook his head. She gave him a soft smile before she left the room and made her way downstairs, the laughter and conversations getting louder with each step she took down the stairs, her feet touching the hallway floor and taking her down towards the kitchen.
The room in front of her filled with the ones she’d grown up with and loved with her entirety – Alfie was sitting at the breakfast bar with a plate of three pancakes and his hand dipped into the bowl of strawberries to sprinkle over the tower he’d made, golden syrup leaking over the edges of each pancake upon his plate. Darcy was no where to be seen and Rose couldn’t only gather that she was still sleeping late after her early morning arrival from a friend’s party. And, Persephone and Jack were sat upon the sofa with the TV on mute and a plate upon Jack’s lap, full of food that they were sharing together.
“Good morning, Rosie,” Persephone grinned as she’d taken in her presence, removing herself from the cushion she was perched in beside Jack, pulled her youngest sister into a hug. “How are you? I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you too,” Rose whispered, her hands rubbing her back as she held her eldest sister closer to her. “Please come see us more. It’s not the same without you.”
Finishing University only recently, Persephone and Jack had taken it upon themselves to stay down in Southampton until they felt stable enough to find a home, or a flat, that was dead set in the middle of Southampton and London. So that they were both close to their families and an accessible drive away if family ever needed them. She’d not been back to London for some time due to her exams and her studying taking over her social time, and visiting this weekend was time she was looking forward too, before they took the late drive back on Sunday evening after full bellies of Harry’s famous Sunday roast dinners. Her siblings were just as excited to see her, and Harry couldn’t wait to have his family together after such a long while.
He missed his eldest.
There was no lie in that.
The little girl that blessed his life for the first time, changed his life and made him a father for the first time in his life; giving him a role that he’d wanted since he was old enough to understand the whole concept of where babies came from and how they were made. But it was that little girl that made him the proudest father in the world and it was that little girl that he couldn’t ever feel less proud of.
“Me and Jack have seen a house up here that we’re thinking of renting. It’s closer to the countryside of Surrey but we’ll still be a valid drive away from here,” Persephone smiled, pressing her lips to Rose’s cheek. “I hear your boyfriend spent the night here, eh? How is he? Where is he? He hasn’t left, has he?”
“He’s in the toilet. Wanted me to come down and make him a plate.”
She cast her eyes over to the full breakfast bare and looked over the variety of food sitting there – bowls of cut up mango and strawberries and bananas with squeezy bottles of honey and golden syrup and chocolate sauce next to a plate of towering pancakes and toast. Bacon strips and eggs cooking the pan over by the counter, being supervised by yourself as Harry stood by the kettle ad brewed a tray full of cups ready to be filled with tea.
“Good mornin’, sweetheart,” you responded to her presence, looking over your shoulder and sending her a warm smile. “How are you feeling this morning? Did you get enough sleep?”
“I did, thank you, mum.”
“Petal, come here,” Harry cooed, his arms wide as he pushed himself from the counter he was leaning against, a smile on his plump lips as Rose made her way across the tiled floor and wrapped her arms around him. His lips pressed against her cheek, his stubble brushing over her smooth skin as he brought his lips to her ear. “Mum told me what happened. Are you feeling alright?”
He’d woken when you’d shuffled back into the bed, confused as to why you were up and wandering the house at 4 in the morning. And you couldn’t hide the fact that you youngest daughter went through a problem that required some help and some clean sheets, and it took every ounce of self-control in Harry’s tired body to stumble out of the room and pull her into a hug and cuddle her like he used to do when a tiny-girl of 4 woke him up and apologised wispily after tugging on his hand and showing her what she’d done unexpectedly.
“M’fine, dad. Just a little accident, but, I’m fine. Connor handled it so well, too, and I love him so much for it,” Rose whispered, her arms around his neck as his fingers rubbed around her clothed skin in consistent patterns. “Everything you said yesterday, about him being here for me when I need and stuff, he was and he’s just so great, dad.”
“I know he is,” Harry smiled, squeezing her to his chest, “I have no worries about him being awful towards you. You deserve someone so special to you and he is the guy at the moment, who definitely treats you the way you deserve, Rosie. We love him, petal. Don’t even doubt that, okay? If he wants to stay over more nights, if he wants to stay for a weekend, if you want to go to his, we’ll be okay with that. We trust you with him,” Harry grinned, running his arms down Rose’s upper arms and cupping her elbows.
“We love him,” Persephone grinned from her seat beside Jack, both of them watching the 9.25am showing of The Jeremy Kyle Show playing on the kitchen TV, the scenes unraveling behind the screen as breakfast happened in the room, “now, make him a plate. Come and sit with us and watch Jezza. Like our little tradition from when we were younger,” she grinned, patting the seat upon the sofa beside her as she shuffled onto Jack’s lap.
“Go on, petal. I’ll make you and Connor some tea and then we’ll discuss what’s happening today. I suggest the beach because it’s sunny and the weather is meant to get warmer later today,” Harry grinned.
* *

hi-im-connor: Late night Blink-182 sessions. Blessed she loves my favourite music genre; it makes me love her more and more. #bestgirlfriend #love #4amsessions

Notes

here we see a sweet little encounter where Rose’s illness makes an appearance and how sweet Connor is to her and how supportive he is to help her feel less embarrassed.