I love writing things from my own point of view. Once you understand yourself to the point of write about it without suffering a lot because of the honesty, everything feels better around you. Because it's all about you, who you are, what you believe in, the things you do and the things you feel, for yourself, for the rest of the world or for some specific person.

(This is probably one of the main reasons why famous people like us hate tabloids. They lie a lot and we have no control of our own stories. But also there are all the other reasons that come along with that.)

Harry is sleeping above my chest now. I can't stop smiling at this; the scent of Harry Styles making everything smell better here, the sight of a sleeping beauty in my arms, the fact that the man I love so fucking much is here with me and made a tent to make it up for something that wasn't even his fault. 

I pick up my phone to record something in the voice notes app, and my voice sounds a little bit croaked due to my attempts to not wake him up. 

"When you feel your love's been taken / When you know there's something missing / In the dark, we're barely hangin' on", I sing in a low tone. "Then you rest your head upon my chest / And you feel like there ain't nothing left / I'm afraid that what we had is gone..."

At first I have no idea of why I'm coming up with such sad lyrics. Then I remember the talk me and Harry had at the woods, when I was fully afraid of losing him in the tour time. I still fear it. Of course I do. It's something natural, something that just comes from nowhere and take you by a storm of bad feelings.

I don't want him to leave.

☸☸☸☸

"I gotta go", Harry speaks for the first time since we woke up. 

I know exactly what he means.

"It's our last meeting before the release of the lead single."

"Are you sure you don't wanna tell me which song you chose? I mean, I already heard the whole album, sweetheart", he grins at the 'sweetheart' part. "I deserve to know."

"Nah. Want it to be a surprise for you too."

"Oh, so you want me to know along with the press?" Harry shrugs at my question, and my mouth opens in an "O" form. "Okay, Harold. If you say so."

"Oh, no", it's his time to look at me with doubt in his eyes. "What are you planning?"

I smile, more to myself than to him.

"You'll see, baby."

He smiles back to me, coming to put his hands on my waist and kiss me for long ten seconds.

"I'm ready for anything you wanna do with me, daddy."

"Stop calling me 'daddy'! I'll start believing I'm that old!" I pat his shoulders twice, and he laughs out loud straight to my face.

"I'm running out of pet names, sorry, Ni."

"I'm kidding. I don't care. But you'll soon get what you deserve."

"Uh, I'm scared", he pretends to choke in fear of what I said.

"Dramatic."

"I'm your dramatic. Boyfriend."

"And I'm your daddy. Boyfriend", I go straight to his lips once again, my hands grabbing his hair so we stand closer and closer for a long amount of time.

"I really have to go", Harry breaks the kiss, his forehead still touching mine, "but I promise I'll come back before you start missing me."

"I'm missing you already, Haz."

Once he leaves the apartment - not before another long kiss -, I run to my bedroom, picking up my phone to listen to that voice note again. The croaked voice of mine trying not to wake Harry up, his deep breath in the background making the lyrics sound like home to me, the honesty in literally everything about the recording. It's one of those drafts you can't lose, you can't throw away and pretend it doesn't exist, because it's there. It's there for you to make it a full song.

And that's what I do. I get dressed in jeans wear, a hoodie and sneakers, wash my mouth, put my phone in my pocket and run down the building's stairs, with intentions of driving straight to the studio I rented this morning for me and my team. I know Harry is not coming back home until three in the afternoon, and this is all the time I need to finish the song.

Once it's all said and done - and they didn't even ask me how I came up with the concept of the song, and I thank God each five seconds for this -, I go back home in time to order some Chinese food for lunch. The spring season just started a few days ago, so it's not that cold outside. It's just perfect for something I just invented to make up for the last night.

"Niall?" Harry screams once he opens the door. "Niall, where are you?"

"Kitchen!" I scream back, and he runs to me, almost knocking me to the ground when his body crahses into mine. "What the hell, H?"

"It's 'Sign of the Times'!" My eyes go widen with his words. "I couldn't wait. I'm sorry. I tried to make a whole mystery around it, but you're the love of my life, so I had to tell you before everyone else."

"Does your family know?"

"No. I'm gonna tell them now via FaceTime." Harry is smiling so much that it makes me smile too. He's fucking happy with what he's about to do, and if he's happy, so am I. "What did you cook for lunch?"

"Didn't. Ordered chinese food instead", I shrug, kissing him right after. "But I was thinking of something else."

Five minutes later, we're sitting on the rooftop terrace of the building, sharing the same plate, two different cups of Pepsi, staring at half of Los Angeles in front of us and singing random songs that make each other laugh all the time. Because it's one of our last moments by ourselves like this, and I want it to be special.

"Daddy", Harry breaks the one-minute silence we just had after finishing the entire food. His voice is more serious than the appropriated for the word he just said, and it worries me for five seconds.

"Yeah?" I say back.

"Wow, you answered me at 'daddy'. I'm sorry, I have to use for the rest of the day", he smirks a bit, then becomes serious again. "In a few weeks we'll get busy with our music again."

"I know, Haz."

"And we won't see each other in a while if we don't come up with something to make it work."

"I know it too, Haz."

"I don't wanna lose you." He says, resting his head on my right shoulder, his eyes staring at the sky, his breath in sync with mine. "I love you, Niall James Horan. I want you to know it."

I smile.

"I love you back, Harold", I kiss the top of his head. "I'll love you for a thousand years if it's necessary, and I want us to last for that whole time too."