Summertime & Butterflies

As soon as Harry caught sight of the trio of amateur paparazzos at the bar, he grabbed Olivia’s wrist and led her outside, without bidding his friends farewell or giving Olivia a chance to apologise to Jeff’s poor sister. Olivia knew she could text Glenne and she would relay the apology, but the girl deserved a proper apology. Whether or not she would accept it was another story.

“Ouch!” Olivia cried out suddenly as Harry’s grip tightened. She yanked her arm away from him and glared. “Jesus, I’m sorry! I didn’t know!”

“I don’t want to fucking talk about it,” Harry snapped, his pace quickening as he strode towards the waiting town car. “Just get in the car.”

“Quit fucking telling me what to do, Harry,” Olivia shot back, though she obeyed his demands and forcefully pulled open the back door, slumping into the seat before slamming the door after her. She watched as Harry climbed in next to her, avoiding her eyes. Olivia sighed. Disappointing Harry crushed her.

The drive home took just under an hour, and nary a word was spoken between Harry and Olivia. She tried to apologise, needing to explain herself and make everything right again, but Harry just shushed her. She knew he had enough public altercations for one night and didn’t want the driver to overhear their conversation, but the tension between the two of them was making her feel sick.

As soon as the car stopped in front of Harry’s house, he bolted from the backseat, striding to the front door awfully fast for a man who’d just had surgery. The fact that he didn’t wait for her showed Olivia just how upset he was at her. She scrambled out of the car and chased after Harry, catching up with him at the front door.

“Can’t you just… I said I was sorry!” Olivia tried as Harry slammed the front door behind them. Her overreaction was humiliating and she wished she could turn back time and not act like a psycho girlfriend. She knew she couldn’t, but having Harry forgive her would be a start.

Harry sighed, running his hands through his hair. “Liv…. fuck. That was so fucking embarrassing. You overreacted so hard, and… you looked insane.”

“I’m not insane!” Olivia quickly interjected.

“Looked,” Harry repeated. He started up the stairs, calling over his shoulder. “You can’t act like that every time some chick is around me. Have I ever given you a reason to think that a girl hugging me is going to be something more?”

Uhm, yes, Olivia thought but she kept her thought to herself. “No,” she answered instead, sighing as she followed him. “But it’s nothing to do with that. What if she was saying all the things the girls said in the bathroom, but to you? Telling you that you should be with her and not me, because I’m gross and sucky and not good enough for you?” Olivia sighed again as she expressed her fears to Harry. She hated hearing the words she spoke, the words that made her sound like an insecure little girl.

“So what if she did?” Harry countered, huffing into the bedroom. “Who fucking cares? Do you really think I’m fucking dumb enough to be like ‘oh, okay!’ if someone had the nads to tell me I shouldn’t be with you? Come the fuck on, Liv,” he continued, pulling his shirt off before stomping into the bathroom. “Is this going to be our thing now? You acting like a fucking psycho and me having to constantly reassure you? Cause I’m not about that life.”

His words took Olivia by surprise and she let out an incredulous scoff. “Oh, you’re not?” she asked him, crossing her arms across her chest. “So… if your fucking fans call me fat and ugly on the internet, and I get upset by it, then you’re just going to break up with me?”

Harry laughed humourlessly. “Well, that’s quite the dramatic spin you’re putting on my words,” he snapped, aggressively squeezing a copious amount of toothpaste onto his brush. “I’m saying you need to chill the fuck out. What happened tonight isn’t you… You need to fucking check yourself, because this is not going to happen again.”

Harry’s dominating attitude was pissing Olivia off. “Don’t fucking talk to me like that, like you’re the fucking boss of me,” Olivia spat out, pushing past Harry and grabbing her robe from the hook. “You’re being a real fucking asshole right now,” she added, glaring at her boyfriend before stomping out of the bathroom.

“It’s fucking hard not to be right now, Liv,” Harry called out after her.

Olivia stopped, hand on the doorknob. “You know what else is hard, Harry?” she asked him, her voice quiet. “Dating you. All of this is happening because of you.”

As soon as she spoke the words, she wished she could take them back. She drew in a breath, preparing to apologise to Harry. But when he didn’t respond, didn’t step from the bathroom to face her, Olivia wondered if he’d even heard her. But, she knew he did. He had to have.

Quietly, she stepped out of the bedroom and closed the door behind her. She couldn’t share a bed with Harry now. She descended the stairs and settled onto the sofa, intending on finding a movie that would distract her mind and settle her to sleep. She didn’t think either were possible, but before long, her eyelids were getting heavy as the booming gunshots in London Has Fallen lulled her to sleep, despite being cold and alone on the couch while her angry boy felt miles away from her.

~*~*~*~

Olivia woke up the next morning, blearily confused as the sunlight hit her face in a different way than most mornings. It took her a moment to realise she was still on the couch, and in an instant, the replay of the night before flooded her mind.

She covered her face with her hands and let out a sigh, wondering how she was going to right all of her wrongs from the night before. She knew she had to try and get in contact with Jeff’s sister, but talking to Harry was her top priority.

She pushed the throw blanket off of her and stood up, climbing the stairs two at a time. She burst into the master bedroom, expecting to see Harry still curled up in bed. She frowned as she saw the bed empty – his side rumpled and unmade, her side still neat and pristine. The bathroom was also empty.

Furrowing her brow, she made her way back downstairs and continued checking the house. Harry was no where to be found. Finally, she checked the garage and saw his car was gone. She ventured back to the kitchen and found her purse, rifling through it for her phone. When she didn’t see a text message from Harry, her stomach dropped. He was really angry with her.

Blowing out a loud sigh, Olivia tapped out a text to Harry.

Where are you?

She turned up the volume on her phone before preparing a pot of coffee. The sick feeling in her stomach refused to go away. Her mind flashed back to the last massive fight they had, and Harry’s accident. Remembering the worst moment of her life amplified her shaky stomach and she picked up her phone again, not caring if she was being a psycho girlfriend.

She was just about to send another message when a text from Harry came through.

Not home.

Part of her felt relief that he’d answered and was therefore okay, but the other part of her felt devastated at his short, snappy response. She stared at the screen, wondering what to say so as to not intensify the fight, when another message came through.

I’m fine.

Olivia sighed again before shoving her phone away from her in frustration. How was she supposed to rectify the situation if Harry wouldn’t even talk to her? His reassurance to her that he was fine didn’t help in dissipating her tight stomach. Physically, he likely was. But emotionally? The fact that he wasn’t home told Olivia that no, he was not fine.

She poured herself a cup of coffee and returned to the living room, settling back on the couch. She took a sip before composing another text to Harry.

Please come home.

Harry didn’t answer. He didn’t answer by the time Olivia finished her coffee. He didn’t answer by the time she finished showering. She did her hair, attempted to follow a YouTube tutorial on contouring, realised she looked like a transvestite, washed her face and did her normal makeup. Still no reply. She stripped the bed and threw the sheets in the washing machine, she scrolled through Netflix and deleted all of the half-watched films from the ‘continue watching’ category. She cleaned out the fridge and reorganised the shelves. Still, her text remained unanswered and the knot in her stomach grew as every silent hour passed.

It was mid-afternoon when she finally heard the front gate opening. Olivia jumped from the couch and peered out the window, relieved to see Harry’s car coming up the driveway but feeling unsettled by the mystery of what their conversation would be like.

She sat on the couch, knees pulled up to her chest as she attempted to hold herself together figuratively by literally holding herself. Her stomach tumbled erratically as she heard the basement door open and Harry’s steps on the stairs. Olivia didn’t look up as Harry entered the living room. She was scared to see the look on his face and didn’t know what to expect from him.

Harry didn’t say a word as he walked past the sofa, ignoring Olivia and continuing up the stairs to the bedroom. She didn’t expect that. She expected him to be upset; she knew he wouldn’t pounce on her and cover her face with his sweet kisses. But she didn’t think he would walk past her as though she wasn’t even there.

Olivia listened to Harry’s footsteps above her, debating if she should approach him or let him come to her. She felt as though their relationship was precariously hanging by a thread and another wrong move on her part could cause it to come crashing down.

She sat motionless on the couch, her indecisiveness weighing her down. Finally, she stood up, following Harry into the bedroom. He was sprawled out on the freshly made bed, focusing on his phone. He glanced sideways as he heard Olivia enter the room but he didn’t look up from his phone or speak a word to her.

Olivia sat on the edge of her side of the bed, away from Harry. She watched his emotionless face for a moment before letting out a loud sigh. “So… are we going to talk at all?”

Harry scoffed, looking up from his phone for just long enough to roll his eyes at Olivia. “I’m fucking pissed off at you,” he unnecessarily reminded Olivia.

“Uh, yeah… I fucking get that,” Olivia snapped back. “Any idea when you’re going to stop giving me the silent treatment and actually talk to me like a fucking adult?” She sighed quietly – snapping at Harry while he was rightfully upset with her wasn’t the right way to settle the argument.

“Quit with the attitude,” Harry retorted. “You told me that dating me sucks. So I’m going to be fucking pissed off about that for awhile.”

Olivia frowned. “I think I said that dating you is hard,” she corrected. “Because it is!”

Harry let out an exasperated groan. “Thanks, Liv,” he answered sarcastically. “Can you just fucking leave me alone right now?”

“No!” Olivia exclaimed, standing up. She paced in front of the bed, huffing out sighs. “We’re fucking settling this, right now! We’re fucking adults, and we’re going to damn well act like it! Put down your fucking phone!”

Harry narrowed his eyes at Olivia, but refused to listen to her. Rather, he reached into the nightstand drawer and pulled out a tangled set of headphones. Boldly, he kept his eyes locked with Olivia’s as he plugged the headphones into his phone and pressed the buds into his ears.

Olivia’s jaw dropped. “Are you actually for real?” she demanded. If the scene had been in a movie, it would have been comical. But in real life, it was infuriating.

She stomped to Harry’s bedside and grabbed the knotted cord. “I said, we’re fucking talking!” she repeated, yanking the buds from Harry’s ears.

“Fuck!” Harry exclaimed, grabbing the cord from Olivia. “Don’t wreck my shit!”

Olivia crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Harry. “Just fucking talk to me!” she pleaded. She sat down on the edge of the bed beside him. “Please?”

Harry sighed. He tossed his phone aside and crossed his arms. “Fine,” he answered curtly. “Talk.”

Olivia pursed her lips. “I… last night was awful,” she admitted. “The whole thing with Jeff’s sister… I have to clear that up, I know. But… the worst part was fighting with you. I know I hurt you with what I said. But I didn’t mean it at all!”

Harry chuckled dryly. “Yes, you did,” he countered. “I fucking get it, dating me is hard. But… fuck. To hear you actually say it?” He trailed off, shaking his head. “The fucking worst,” he said, his voice quiet.

He was breaking her heart. She nodded slowly. “You’re right…” she said carefully. “It is hard. But… it’s one hundred percent worth it. It is,” she reiterated, ducking her head in an attempt to look into Harry’s eyes. “Harry,” she tried again, wanting him to look at her. “Don’t you believe me?”

Harry shrugged. “Everything was fine when it was just us,” he told her. “But as soon as you got shoved into this whole LA shit life…” He let out a sigh. “You hate it.”

Olivia was quiet. She did hate the fame part of Harry’s life. She loathed having to be aware of her every move, terrified that one false move on her part would end up all over Harry Styles fan accounts. But she knew it came with dating him.

“It’s not my favourite…” she admitted quietly. “But… that’s why it’s going to be so nice to go home with you, and just… get away from this whole crazy city. What?” she asked, watching Harry’s brow furrow into a confused wrinkle. She sighed. “You forgot…”

Harry rubbed his forehead tiredly. “Fuck… Liv… I can’t just leave right now…”

Olivia frowned. “But… you said you would…” she reminded him, pressing her lips together as she thought about attending the family event without Harry by her side. She was so proud of her boyfriend, she wanted everyone back home to meet him and love him as much as she did. She wanted her father to jokingly threaten Harry while feeding him beer as they stood around the open hood of a rusty old pick up. She wanted her mother to shamelessly flirt with him, just to get him to blush. She wanted to see Harry crawl around on the floor, playing with her nieces and nephews, who would surely fall in love with him. She wanted him to be a part of her life.

“I can’t,” Harry repeated, his voice tight. “The tour is coming up, and one of the musicians just backed out, so we have to find a replacement! We still have to finalize the set list and I’m fucking freaking out about it!”

“But… you said you would…” Olivia stated again. “I get that you have a lot on your plate, but… you fucking told me that you would! You told me I’m your number one, Harry… This is important to me!”

“My tour is fucking important to me!” Harry countered hotly. “Way more fucking important than some silly little barbecue!”

Olivia stood up again, her rage coursing through her body. “More fucking important than me?” she demanded, her hands on her hips.

Harry rolled his eyes at Olivia. “Fuck… no,” he seethed. “But more important than your family!”

Olivia’s mouth dropped open. “I’ve travelled all over the fucking world to meet your family, Harry!” she exclaimed. “And you can’t even do me a solid and come meet mine for one measly weekend? I haven’t seen my family since June!”

“Then go!” Harry told her. “I’m not fucking stopping you! But I can’t go. Can’t you fucking get that?”

Olivia hugged herself against his words. “I want you to come!” she stressed. “It’s like you expect me to fit perfectly into your life, but you don’t even fucking want to try to fit into mine! You’ve never even met anyone in my family, and we’ve been dating for months!”

Harry scoffed. “I met your sister,” he reminded her. “And her husband and their kids. So fucking what if I haven’t met the rest yet? I will. Just… not now.”

Olivia shook her head incredulously. “I can only imagine what your fucking reaction would have been if I told you that I wouldn’t go to London with you…” she told him. “You expect this relationship to be the fucking Harry Show and you don’t get that it’s a fucking two way street!”

“Oh, you’re going to complain about London now?” Harry asked. “Didn’t fucking hear you complaining when you were flying on a God damn private jet to a movie premiere. Or how about when I bought you fucking Gucci and Tiffany’s? Yeah, you really had a lot to bitch about then, didn’t you?”

“You think that shit is important to me?” Olivia yelled. “You don’t fucking know me at all, do you? I’ll show you what the hell I think about all your fucking gifts, Harry!”

She stomped across the room and shoved open the closet door. She was seeing red as she began to scoop up the clothes Harry had purchased for her, including the gorgeous Gucci dress. She had never been so angry at Harry and felt out of body as she stomped out of the closet, arms full, onto the balcony.

“Fuck you and all your fucking shit, Harry!” she snapped at him, dropping the armload to the poolside below. “You think this crap means something to me? You think this fucking shit is important to me?”

“You’re a real fucking child,” Harry told her, his calm tone of voice infuriating Olivia even more. “I thought you were the one who wanted to have an adult conversation, now you’re fucking throwing clothes off the deck? Grow up,” he snapped, rolling off the bed and stomping out of the bedroom.

Olivia stood in front of the patio door, breathing heavily as she watched Harry leave. Their conversation did nothing but exacerbate their fight and cause an entirely new one. She ran her fingers through her hair and let out a loud sigh. She ventured back into the closet and her gaze settled on her luggage. Although she was planning on staying with Harry for a few more days, she didn’t think she could anymore. With another shaky sigh – this one sounding closer to a sob – she pulled the suitcases out and laid them on the bed. She had been dreading this day all summer, but after her shouting match with Harry, there was nothing else she could do.

~*~*~*~

Quietly, methodically and emotionlessly, Olivia folded and refolded every article of clothing, carefully placing them in the suitcase. She didn’t let herself think about Harry or what the outcome of their fight would be, concentrating solely on her systematic packing.

“What are you doing?”

Olivia jumped at the sound of Harry’s voice. She wasn’t sure how much time she’d spent folding, rolling, packing and repacking, but the sun had now set, the lights of downtown Los Angeles taking the place of the bright sunshine.

She zipped up her suitcase before looking up at Harry. He had a miserable expression on his face and his arms were filled with the clothes Olivia had tossed to the pool. “Packing…” she answered quietly, lifting the suitcase from the bed and setting it on the floor. “I would have picked those up,” she told him sheepishly. “But thank you…”

He nodded, stepping into the closet. “It’s okay,” he said, scanning the shelves in the walk in closet. “Wait… why is it all empty? You packed it all? Everything?”

“Yeah..?” Olivia answered, sounding as confused as Harry. She leaned against the closet door, watching him examine the bare shelves.

“But… you’re not leaving yet..?” he stated, his voice rising questioningly. “And… and you’re coming back. Aren’t you?” he asked slowly. “I mean, it’s just a weekend… and then… you’ll be back?”

Olivia bit her lip. Her throat felt choked as she tried to keep her voice steady and the tears out of her eyes. “School starts soon…” she told him quietly, shifting her weight as she toed her socked foot against the threshold.

Harry stepped in front of Olivia, gently touching her face and tipping her chin. “But… you’re not leaving yet! You don’t have to… We still have a few days…”

Olivia dropped her head, staring at the floor as she felt the tears she so desperately tried to push back make their appearance. “I think I have to…” she confessed quietly.

Harry reached for Olivia’s hand but she nudged him away, turning to sit on the bed instead. She clasped her hands on her lap, feeling the bed dip as Harry sat beside her. She had so much she wanted to say to him but she didn't know how to find the words. No words would work, no words would fix what needed to be fixed. No words could say how how she was feeling.

“Liv…” Harry said, his own voice sounding cracked. “It’s just a fight! We fight all the time…” he reminded her, gently elbowing her side. “It’s… it’s okay! I’m sorry. But it’s just… it’s not… it’s not an ending fight. Is it?”

“It feels different this time…” Olivia admitted to Harry, feeling a tear run down her cheek. She forced herself to look up at Harry, and the sadness in his eyes nearly killed her. She looked down again, sniffling.

“You don’t want to fit into my life… And I can’t fit into yours…” Olivia told him. He didn't answer her, silently agreeing with Olivia's statement. “Oh, my God…” she whispered after several quiet moments had passed. “I can’t believe what I’m about to say…” She stood up abruptly and stepped away from Harry, his close presence making it too difficult for her to confess her true feelings.

Harry stood up, tightly grabbing Olivia’s hands. “Then don’t say it,” he pleaded. “Honey, don’t… don’t, please. I love you. I love you so much. I love your heart and your soul, and everything about you. I love who I am when I’m with you. Please. I can’t… I need you, so much…”

Olivia ducked her head, her crown pressed against Harry’s chest. She was sobbing now, and Harry dropped her hands, enveloping her tightly. “Then come with me,” Olivia said through her tears. She pulled away from Harry and looked into his own wet eyes. “Come home with me and show me that you have time for me. Otherwise…” She trailed off, dropping her head again.

“Liv… don’t do that,” Harry begged. “Don’t give me an ultimatum. You know I want to… I want to meet your mom and your dad. I want to see where you grew up and I want to swing on the swings at your old elementary school. I want to be in every part of your life, as much as you are in mine. I just… can’t right now. Please don’t end this because of… scheduling. Please…”

Olivia stared into Harry’s eyes as her phone signalled a new text message. “That’s my Uber…” she told Harry softly.

“You’re really going right now?” Harry choked out, his eyes wide as he finally realised Olivia was leaving. “Before we can figure this out? Honey, please… don’t go. Not like this…”

Olivia pulled away from Harry. “I have to…” she answered, picking up her belongings. She forced herself to look at Harry, though the sight of his distraught face was enough to set her over the edge. She never thought that when she left Los Angeles, left the house she now considered her home, that it would be like this. She wanted to cry and throw up at the same time, she wanted to change her mind, but mostly, she wanted Harry to change his.

Harry was silent as Olivia crossed the bedroom. She was just about to step into the hallway when he spoke up. “Is this really over?”

Olivia stopped, exhaling quietly. “That’s up to you…” she answered with a forlorn shrug. “You know I love you, so much. But I need you to fit with me.” She watched Harry’s head drop shamefacedly as she managed to choke out one final word.

Notes