a/n: happy dawnrry day to all who celebrate (:

     Friday was the day.  I had been anticipating interviewing Harry for what felt like weeks now when really it was only about an actual week.  Of course, I had until the end of the month to interview him, but that was only about a week and a half away and I was not one to procrastinate when it came to deadlines.  Especially not when there was a hefty price tag involved here.  As I sat with my journal out on the desk, I tried to think of any other questions that I would maybe want to ask him.  I already had so many to do, and think about, and comprehend.  I wondered if he would even answer all of them.  But, alas, there was only one way to find out.

As I was listening to him, he was talking about yet another murder that had taken place.  It was off another lake in the area, and I knew that this was victim number ten.  Nine of them had looked like me, and one of them had been a man that was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.  It made my skin absolutely crawl, and I wondered how someone was getting away with all of these murders.  How could someone be out there, killing innocent women, and no one was seeing a single thing? It made no sense to me.

"I have decided to do something a little bit different today," I heard Harry say on the radio, his words catching my attention.  "While I will not name names for privacy purposes, I do feel that there are some pieces of fan mail that have been exclusively given to me in order to pass on clues to the public about the possible Winter Haven Killer.  Please be open to what you may hear, and I want to make everyone aware that these clues have also already been passed on to the Winter Haven Police Department as well."

He was going to talk about fan mail with his fans? I thought it was crazy, especially since he had told me that he did not want us to read them together.  Then again, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that he had probably sat down to read the mail he was getting and these letters had specifically stated in them that they were willing to be read out loud on the air.  It wasn't like he would be able to tell the difference from a personal and intimate piece of mail from one that had clues strewn inside before we opened them, so I decided to let it go, knowing that he wouldn't hesitate to let me open fan mail with him if it was possible to tell which ones were which on the outside.

Though, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I needed to write down a new idea for the newsletter next week.  It would make it easier to tell which pieces of mail were important and which were more sentimental if they were sent in different colored envelopes, so I decided to mark that down, making a mental note to ask Harry if he liked the idea later today when I saw him.  Though, just as I was finishing with my notes, I heard him clear his throat before beginning to read the fan mail. 

"Dear Harry, I love your true crime segment.  Listening to it in the morning can be a little creepy, but I appreciate staying up to date on all the latest crimes, especially things that are happening in the area I am from.  I don't know how true this is, my friend was too scared to write in, but she was almost positive that she saw someone in a yellow corvette from the sixties talking to the latest victim on Tuesday.  Not sure if this helps, but if the victim's body was found on Wednesday, it could mean the killer is keeping them for about a day before disposing of them.  Hope this helps catch that terrible person!"

My heart was racing in my chest as I thought about any cars I had seen recently.  I always walked to and from work, so it wasn't uncommon for me to see a lot of cars in my travels, but the longer I sat there and wracked my brain for any sort of yellow corvette, absolutely nothing presented itself.  It was confusing to me, especially since it seemed like such an odd car to have that would go unnoticed.  Certainly I had seen yellow cars before, but it wasn't every day that someone with a yellow corvette was driving around here in Winter Haven.

"I just wanted to say thank you once again to that listener for being brave enough to share that possible clue, even if it was from a friend.  I really appreciate it," Harry stated.  "Now, I have another one here, and this has a lot to do with the code that was presented at the newest, I take that back, second newest crime scene considering the body that was found yesterday."

Harry read the fan mail as well, the fan clearly discussing how they thought what certain parts of the code that had been included in the Sunday paper had meant.  I was genuinely interested in this part, recalling when I was younger and my parents would tell me scary stories about the Zodiac Killer and how he left clues behind often but no one had ever caught him.  It was eerie to think that maybe this was someone copying him.  That, or it was completely unrelated.  And, scariest yet, it was the Zodiac Killer, but I knew that was a little far fetched.

For the rest of the segment, Harry discussed the most recent murder and how the body had been found yesterday.  I was definitely concerned, knowing that I had not been out and about yesterday, but it was nerve wracking to think of this killer being on the loose still.  Even if I was living with the idea of what was happening around here, I was still very concerned, even if I wasn't supposed to be.  Then again, looking like all of the victims would definitely do that to someone I was sure.

Once Harry's segment ended, I got up from my seat, shutting off the radio.  Of course, I was a little nervous about having to interview him now, but I knew it was simply because we were getting to know one another better on a personal level and this felt very much like work.  While that wasn't all that horrible, it was definitely not something that I enjoyed all that much either.   I mean, sometimes work was something that he didn't appreciate talking about when we were together, like the fan mail for example.  While it wasn't necessarily work, he certainly did not like the idea of me seeing anything that his fans had written.  He preferred to keep me out of the way when it came to that stuff.

"Doll," I heard, Harry walking in without knocking.  "Hey."

"Hi."

"How are you?" he asked.

I was surprised when he walked over to me and kissed me, the small bit of affection not lasting long, but it was sweet nonetheless.  He sat on my desk, glancing down at the papers that I had strewn about.  Though, I watched as he grabbed the journal I had been writing in–the one that he had bought me when I had first gotten the job here.  He glanced over the questions that I had written, a small smile on my face when he gazed down at me after he had finished reading.

"Do you want to go somewhere and get coffee while we do this?" he asked, setting my journal back on the desk.  "I figure then we can get out of the office for a little bit."

"Oh.  Do you think that would be okay with Mr. Watson?"

"He won't care," Harry laughed.  "I'll go call him from my office just for you, though.  Pack your things, Mags."

Of course, I had no doubt that he would be able to talk Mr. Watson into allowing us to go elsewhere for the interview, but another part of me was worried that he might not.  Then again, who did I think I was kidding? Mr. Watson loved almost anything that I did, and Harry was his prime source of entertainment at the station.  It was like a team made for winning whatever argument Harry and I may have had.  Deciding to pack my items up, I made sure that I had everything over and over again before Harry came into my office once more, taking my bag and pulling it over his shoulder.

"Harry, I can hold that," I laughed.

"Yeah, I know, but it's fine.  You look all studious with your little journal that I got you."

It made me laugh.  He assured me that Mr. Watson gave the two of us the okay to go out of office to do the interview, and I honestly kind of appreciated it.  After all, my office had become far more comfortable to Harry and I, and I felt that we would probably not get very much done if we were to do the interview there.  Plus, Harry probably thought the same thing if he had suggested that we do the interview somewhere else.  And, I also felt that if it was in public he was less likely to try and do anything flirtatious with me. 

"Alright, do you want food also?" he asked. 

"I'm not starving.  I just got to work like an hour and a half ago," I told him.

"But you like donuts," he grinned, opening the passenger door for me to his vehicle.  "We can go to the bakery and café that I usually go to for coffee and donuts."

"Okay, that would work for me.  Are you hungry, though?"

"I can wait."

Nodding, I sat in the car, Harry allowing me to get situated before he handed me my bag.  I set it on my lap before he shut the door, the curly-haired personality climbing into the vehicle on his side.  He started the car, leaving me to stare down at my journal.  Or, I was distracted by them until Harry reached over and placed his hand on my thigh, my cheeks flushing when he shifted his hand and pulled at my thigh.  I was confused, not exactly sure why he was trying to open my legs in the middle of the car, but his eyes widened when he glanced over, Harry shaking his head.

"I just was trying to get you to move over some, I really am not trying to start anything."

"Oh," I laughed, setting my bag on the floor before shifting over.  "You could've just said something instead of trying to spread me open."

"You better watch it, doll," he stated.  "It's only Friday, and we both know you're not coming until tomorrow."

"Harry," I complained.

He chuckled.  "I'm teasing.  By the way, were you coming to stay tonight, or did you want me to come stay, or did you want me to just get you at around eight tomorrow?"

"Oh right, the farmer's market," I grinned, my eyes bright as I looked up at him.  "I think one of the first times we hung out you said you wanted me to take you.  It's going to be so much fun.  I'll have to dig out my tote bags from the boxes I still haven't unpacked."

"You still haven't fully unpacked?" Harry asked.

"Are you serious?" I laughed.  "Harry, I think there are boxes still in the dining room, and my office is filled with them."

He shrugged.  "Seems like home when I'm over there, I don't pay attention."

My face burned with his words.  It was sweet that he still felt like my place was homey even with boxes strewn about.  Not to mention that he literally felt like it was home.  I glanced down at his hand that was resting on my thigh, wanting to hug him as he drove but I also didn't want to push it.  Since we had spent the evening apart last night, he had called me.  I just figured it was to chit chat, but he told me that he had been having a lot of issues when it came to physical touch and how even when someone like Mr. Watson would just pat him on the back it would stress him out.  I knew he wasn't saying it to me as an intentional way to hurt me, but I didn't want to push him when he had just spoken about it to me yesterday.

"So, sleepover or do you want me to pick you up?" he asked.

"Are we staying at yours tomorrow?" I asked.  "You know, with the whole party at your friend's place?"

"We can do whatever," he told me.  "I know the party is in Cypress Gardens, so it is pretty even between either of us."

"I like staying at yours," I told him.  "For tomorrow at least.  You can come spend the night if you want tonight."

"Perfect, I didn't pack a bag of anything already."

It made me laugh, Harry pulling up to the little bakery not much later.  I found myself giggling when he leaned over and kissed my cheek, Harry shaking his head as he looked at me before he got out.  It took me a minute to collect my belongings, but once I had grabbed them, I scooted out on his side, Harry immediately taking my bag and pulling it over his shoulder.  He took my hand in his, the two of us walking up to the bakery.  There were quite a few people inside, but the place was cute and cozy.  I squeezed Harry's hand between both of mine, the man beside me glancing down.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Magdalina."

"Harry."

"You're weird," he stated, shaking his head as he chuckled before pulling me up to the counter.

"Good morning, Harry," the girl at the register greeted, a bright smile on her face as she spoke to him.  "Usual?"

"Maybe for me.  I know she'll want a vanilla frosted donut with sprinkles, what do you want for coffee, doll?"

"What do you get?"

"A black coffee.  You won't like that.  You want cream and sugar in yours? Do you want it iced?"

"Yeah," I nodded, looking at the girl.  "Um, can I get an iced coffee with cream and sweetener?"

"For sure," she nodded.

I went to reach for my bag but remembered Harry was wearing it.  Glaring at him, he sent me a small smirk, pulling out his wallet to pay for us.  It was like he had planned this, Harry sending me a small smile.  He took his change back from the girl and set it in the tip jar before we went to find a table.  There was an empty booth, Harry choosing to sit there.  I sat on one side and he sat on the other, a giggle leaving my lips as he took my bag off and slid it across the table.

"Thanks."

"Of course," he nodded.

"So, some of them are just going to be basic questions, but the representative told me to ask things about if you're single and stuff also.  Which, like, I don't know what we are, so if you want to say single I get it—"

"Why would I say I'm single if I'm seeing you? Do you not want people to know you're with me? Oh goodness, you're ashamed of me," he jokingly complained.  "I knew it."

"No," I quickly said.  "I'm not.  I just don't want you to feel pressured to say anything."

"Pressured," he laughed.  "The girl I like is about to interview me for a very popular magazine, the only pressure I feel is answering your questions correctly.  And, I will in fact be saying that there is someone on the tip of my tongue, but I don't kiss and tell."

My eyes widened slightly and I shook my head, Harry very interested as I pulled my notes, journal, and a pencil out of my bag.  He was very good at assessing me, watching over each and every move that I made.  Though, I found myself getting organized and pulled together just as they called his name to pick up our order.  He held up his index to me, getting out of the booth and leaving me alone for a little bit.  However, he was back soon enough with our drinks, my donut in a paper bag while Harry had gotten a breakfast sandwich.

"Do you want some?" he asked me.

"I'm okay," I told him.

"So you will have the first bite and then I won't bother you again about it."

Rolling my eyes, I took the sandwich from him, looking at what was on it first to make sure I liked everything.  It was a basic egg, cheese, and bacon sandwich, so I took a bite before handing the sandwich back to him.  Harry smiled at me as I finished the bite and swallowed before sipping my coffee, leaving me to begin asking him questions.

"We know this one.  What's your name?"

"F. Scott Fitzgerald."

"Oh, right, how could I forget?" I laughed, shaking my head as I looked at him and wrote down his actual name.  "When were you born?"

"February second, nineteen sixty-two."

"Damn, you're an old man," I smiled.  "I was born in sixty-six."

"If only I was as cool as you," Harry chuckled.

It made me smile, leaving me to ask a few other basic questions that I already knew.  Where was he from? Washington.  What college did he go to? Florida State University. What did he study? Journalism. What made him move to Florida for college? His mother passed, but he gave a less personal answer—something about how he wanted to experience Florida and what it had to offer.  Deep down, I knew that wasn't true, because I knew he came here after his mother was killed, but I also figured he didn't want anything super personal in there.

"Okay, now, what got you interested in true crime?" I asked.

He shrugged.  "It was the most interesting topic I had to talk about when in college.  At the time, no one was truly covering it well.  Sure, there would be mentions of certain killers in newspapers or on the news and radio, but I didn't feel like anyone was going out of their way to report it, you know?"

He took a bite of the sandwich while I wrote down his answer quickly.  Of course, I kind of felt like it was the best answer he could have given to that question.  After all, before Harry, there didn't seem to be any one person invested in these crimes.  I knew these serial killers would be mentioned in the paper, on the news, but no one was dedicated to writing or speaking about them the way that he was.  And, realistically he was right.  It was very interesting, it just could be gruesome at times.

"Okay," I continued.  "What's your favorite story that you've covered?"

"I mean, I enjoyed talking about Ted Bundy a few times because the way he went about killing was interesting.  Plus, he was said to be an attractive man that would go around and basically make girl's fall for him before he killed them.  It was a tactic that I don't think had been used before.  And, I won't lie, having gone to FSU there were a few times I happened to be at the sorority house where the murders he committed took place.  But, I can't deny that covering a serial killer who is right in the area I'm from isn't more interesting.  I mean, it's right here."

While I hated thinking about the Winter Haven Killer, there was nothing I could do about it.  Harry was very much involved in the case considering his connections to the police, the fan mail that had clues, his own talk show that discussed it.  He was very much right in the middle of this case so I was sure at times it was exhilarating to be a part of something so big and crazy.

"So, you'd pick the Winter Haven Killer?" I asked to clarify.

"Yeah, probably.  I think because they haven't been caught yet, you know? It's still happening, and it is right under our noses."

I nodded, writing down the answers quickly.  Glancing at the questions I had, I felt like there were a lot, but I would have preferred to have a lot of questions to ask, almost too many, than not enough.  It left me to continue asking him a few more about the crimes that he had covered before I finally got to the one that he hadn't even talked about on air before.

"So, I know you went and watched the VHS tape."

"Okay," he nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly because I knew he didn't know where I was going with this.

"What was that like? What's on it?"

Harry sat there silently.  He had even set the sandwich he was eating down, and I could tell that it was a surprise I had asked him something like this.  I started thinking about how he went to watch the tape last Sunday, and had never told me anything about it.  Was it really that horrible? I wasn't sure, but I definitely wondered what was on it the way that I was sure hundreds of thousands of people wondered as well.

"Magdalina," he finally stated, his tone telling me that I was definitely on the line of what was and was not okay.

"What? I'm asking what the people would want to know."

"You can't ask me that and publish it," he continued.  "It's confidential.  I signed a non-disclosure agreement."

"Then tell me all the details and I'll just write that it's bad.  No one has to know what's on it."

He thought about it.  I could see his brain running rampant, and he was obviously trying to decide what to say.  Then again, maybe he was trying to think about whether or not he wanted to tell me what was on it.  After all, it was confidential, and he had signed a release.  But, was he willing to still discuss it with me? I watched as he glanced down at his hands for a few moments, playing with the rings that lined his fingers before he shook his head.

"It's the last moments," he started lowly.  "They're screaming, begging for the person to stop.  They offer money, sex, to stay quiet and never tell anyone.  Then the person kills them.  Slits their throat, let's them gurgle before he tears into their chest.  It isn't pretty, I had to turn it off.  I don't know if it was because it looked like you or what, but I just couldn't watch it anymore."

His words scared me.  Even if he was the one murmuring them, I felt like I was there.  I could imagine, in some horrible way, what that was like.  I had been running for my life before.  I knew that there was a killer that had been in this town once before, but the police had caught them.  The guy was rotting in prison a few hours away with Ted Bundy, if I wasn't mistaken.  So, for there to be another person killing in this town, it just wasn't right.  Or, maybe it wasn't wrong, but the odds were weird. 

"You watched her die," I murmured.

"Unfortunately.  That's why I didn't talk to you about it after I saw it.  Why would I want to talk about seeing someone get killed when they look exactly like you? I wanted it out of my mind as quickly as possible."

The words felt sweet, even though they had a dark meaning behind them.  He had purposely ignored the VHS and discussing it with me not only because he signed a release, but because the woman looked like me.  I set my pencil down, reaching across the table to grab one of his hands.  He was still staring at the table, his eyes locked on the wood and I found myself squeezing his hand, Harry glancing up at me.

"Next question," he said, and by his tone I could tell he wasn't all that happy.

"Um, yeah," I nodded, letting go of him.  "Uh, are you allowed to talk about the code?"

"Yeah, that's fine.  They released it in the paper on Sunday.  I am not really good at stuff like that, even with all the communication classes I took in college," he started to say, shrugging.  "I figure it definitely says something about the murders, maybe why the person would be committing them, but who knows.  Do you have a picture of it again?"

I nodded.  Searching through my notes, I recalled saving a newspaper clipping from Sunday to add to my list of things for the interview.  It took a while to find the small piece of paper, but when I did, I quickly slid it across the table to him, watching as he looked over the symbols that made absolutely zero sense.

≢⌖⊹    ≠⊹⊭•⬲☐    ⍱≢    ꆛ≟☒⊜.  ⌖⊹☐    •☉    ⬲≟⊭⊹    ꆛ•≢⌖    ⍱☉    ⍱☉ꆜ⊹⬲.  ⊹⍱⋉⌖    ⊭•⋉≢•⋊,   ⍱☉   ⍱☉ꆜ⊹⬲    •☉   ≠•☐ꆜ♡•☐⊹.    ≢⌖⊹Ψ☒⊹ ☉≟≢   ⌖⊹☒.  ≢⌖⊹    ≠⊹⊭•⬲    ꆛ≟☉≢    ☒⊹☐≢    ♡☉≢•⬲    ≢⌖⊹    ≢☒♡⊹    ⍱☉ꆜ⊹⬲    •☐    ⬲⊹⇟≢.   ⍱☉≠    ≢⌖⊹☉    ⌖⊹⬲⬲    ⌖⍱⊭⊹    ≢⌖⊹    ≟☉⊹    ꆛ⌖≟    ꆜ≟≢    ⍱ꆛ⍱Ψ.

"Yeah, this just looks like a whole lot of nonsense," Harry stated, and I agreed.  "I mean, obviously it means something, but what? Where do you even begin on something like that? I'd love to be the one to figure it out but wouldn't we need some kind of clue? Anything?"

Nodding, I quickly scribbled his answers down knowing that his insight into the code was as good as mine since we had nothing to go off of minus the symbols.  Sipping my coffee, I glanced over my previous questions and the answers, trying to better understand if I had covered a lot of what I needed.  Though, after I had glanced through most of my stuff, I found myself reaching the question that I was most scared to hear the answer for personally.

"So, for everyone on the edge of their seat, is the young, attractive, and famous Mr. Harry Styles single?"

He snickered.  "Unfortunately for anyone looking, no.  I am very happy with the woman I've found.  She kind of fell into my life, but I wouldn't change it.  Not for a second."

My cheeks flushed, Harry smiling as he stared across the booth at me.  I hadn't expected what he was going to say, but it was probably the best answer he could have given in the moment, Harry getting out of the booth quickly before coming to sit next to me when he saw that I was trying to blink away tears.

"I'm not going to hug you because I'm really stressed, but don't cry.  Look at me," he murmured, his hands cupping my cheeks.  "Magdalina, don't."

"I'm not going to cry," I laughed, though the sniffle that followed made him chuckle.  "Seriously."

"You're cute," he told me, pressing a kiss to my forehead sweetly.  "You know I'd hug you if I was feeling okay, right? The biggest hug.  I wouldn't let go."

"It's fine, I know, you told me last night."

"I know, but I also know that you like touch and I'm very bad at touch," he murmured, brushing his thumbs under my eyes easily.  "My pretty girl."

"Stop," I laughed again, shaking my head.

He pressed a few quick kisses to my forehead before he let go of me, Harry sitting across from me once more.  I was thankful for the interaction, knowing that I would have preferred one big hug over any of the kisses, but I appreciated the effort he had put in to make me feel better nonetheless—especially when he wasn't feeling the best.  He took my pencil, tugging the journal away from in front of me so that he could write on the front page where it said "Maggie's Journal."  I was confused, but he slid the journal back to me, a small smile on my face as I read what he wrote.

i'm so lucky

♡ HARRY

"You're being sweet and I don't know why," I told him softly.  "What are you planning?"

"Nothing.  I just want you to know I appreciate you."

"Yeah, but it's weird."

"Weird, or no one's treated you correctly?" he asked, but then his eyes widened some.  "That isn't what I meant.  It sounded rude."

My cheeks flushed with his words.  "No, it's okay.  I do think that's part of it.  He was fine, but he didn't go out of his way for me, you know?"

Harry nodded.  I continued with his interview, asking him personal questions about what his favorite books were, what kind of movies he enjoyed, and things of that nature.  It was fun, and by the end of it I knew more about him than I was pretty sure I had, Harry finishing his coffee while I opened the bag that held my donut.

"You totally want to share, right?" Harry asked.

I smiled at him, taking the first bite before I handed it to him.  He looked excited, taking a bite before handing the donut back to me.  I sipped my coffee and looked down at the notes I had taken, Harry asking if I wanted any water or more coffee.  I told him a water could be nice, but I quickly set my donut down on the bag, pulling out a five and handing it to him.

"No."

"Harry," I murmured.

"It's water," he laughed.  "You're not paying."

"I want to."

"No."

Before I could think, I was putting the money in his pocket, Harry staring down at me with wide eyes.  He glanced around briefly before he grabbed my face, my heart racing in my chest as he looked down at me.  It took a moment, but I could tell he was assessing me, trying to figure out what to say.  My body was stiff, and I found myself basically holding my breath before he leaned down, his lips near my ear. 

"Do it again and you're really going to pay for it, do you understand?"

"Mhm."

"Doll.  Use your words."

"Y-Yes."

"Very good."

He pulled away, taking the five out of his pocket before smacking it on the table like it was dirty money before he walked up to the counter.  I stared down at the five, knowing that I probably didn't need to shove it into his pants, but I wanted him to stop paying for every single thing that we ever got.  Even if he was financially stable enough to do so, I didn't want him to have to do this all the time.  Though, the thoughts quickly disappeared when he came over with two waters, Harry shaking his head as he sat in front of me.

"It was free," he said. 

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

I blushed, thanking him for the water before I sipped it.  He took some of the extra sheets of paper I had and started writing while I continued to go over my notes and break it down into an easier to read Q and A.  It was about an hour of us doing our own stuff and chatting here and there before a group of men walked in, most of them dressed in a button down shirt and pressed trousers.  However, as they ordered and went to sit down, they seemed to notice Harry, one of the guys getting up from their table they had chosen and grabbing Harry's shoulder.  I could see him tense up, but he quickly smiled, the man beside our table looking about forty to fifty.

"How are you, kid?" the man asked.

"Good, Mr. Clemson, what's up?"

"Not much.  Steven said you guys hung out the other day.  I know he always likes when you guys hang out and watch the game and stuff."

"Oh, definitely," Harry nodded.

It was obvious that Harry knew this man better than I had assumed, it clearly being someone that he had known for a long time.  However, I noticed the man glance at me, then Harry, then me once again. Mr. Clemson was even staring at me for a few moments, and I sent him a timid smile before the man started speaking.

"This isn't the hot blonde Steven told me about, is it?"

"Oh," Harry laughed, but I could tell he was somewhat uncomfortable that it was being brought up.  "That was my ex Cherry that Steven probably told you about.  This is, uh, Maggie."

"Uh Maggie, huh?" he started, glancing at me.  "I've known Harry since he went to FSU.  Even helped him move into his dorm since he was all by himself.  My son is Steven, I don't know if you've met him."

"I can't say I have," I told him honestly.  "Do you work around here?"

"Yeah, I work at the police station.  I'm a detective working on the Winter Haven Killer case.  Actually, I'm so sorry if this is offensive, but someone told you that you look like the victims I've been drawing lines around, right?"

"Clemson," Harry quickly said with distaste.

"Wait a second, is that why you turned off the tape?" the man quickly asked.  "I know it was gruesome, but you didn't even make it halfway through."

"Fuck off," Harry complained. 

"Oh, come on, kid," Mr. Clemson laughed, patting Harry's shoulder before messing up his hair.  "I'm just teasing you, Harry, it's totally okay that you had to turn it off, a lot of people on the team did as well.  But, I won't stop making fun of you because you're basically my kid.  Maggie, you're in lovely hands.  Please for the love of God don't go outside at night, though.  I'm scared for your safety.  Harry, I'll see you around.  Maggie, I hope to see you around as well."

He waved to us so that he could go sit with his friends, and I could tell Harry was internally freaking out over the amount of touching he had just endured.  His eyes were trained on one set point at the table, and I knew that I wanted to do something to help, but I always came up blank.  Before I knew what I was doing, I found myself packing up my stuff, sipping the rest of my coffee before taking several sips of my water.  And, by the time I was getting up Harry was still focused on the table, my fingers tapping on the table in front of him.

"Hey," I said softly.  "Let's go."

He didn't respond.

"Har," I stated, reaching over the table to try and collect the papers he had been working on.  "Hey."

When I looked at the sheets of paper, he had scribbles about a To Do list, one of the things being that he wanted to look into what I had talked about when it came to the code.  It also had regular things like grocery shopping, which I thought was a little amusing.  Though, I also noticed his little doodles, making note of the cassette tape that he drew.

"Harry," I said again.  "Honey, come on."

The second that I touched his shoulder I knew it was a bad idea.  Almost immediately he was grabbing my hand, pressing it down onto the table.  His breathing was rigid, my eyes wide with the way he was reacting, and how he was very clearly distressed.  Though, I found myself trying to pull my hand out from under his, Harry letting go and shaking his head.

"Don't touch me," he muttered.

"I didn't mean it," I murmured softly.  "You weren't listening, I didn't know what else to do.  I'm sorry, Harry."

He shook his head.  I could tell he was still irritated, Harry making sure that we collected all of our things.  I then went ahead and helped him throw out our stuff and put the dishes in a spot so they could be picked up.  Harry waved to his friend's dad before we left, the curly-haired personality opening the passenger door for me.

"I didn't mean it," I told him again, standing outside of the car as he held the door open.  "You have to know that."

"I'm just really fucking stressed, and Steven's dad already put me on edge but then you sent me spiraling.  And I know it sucks that it happened to be you, but when I tell you that it stresses me out, I mean I'm in a state of panic.  My body locks up, and I am freaking out.  It sucks."

I frowned at him.  "I wish I knew how to comfort you, though."

"I know." he nodded.  "Come on, let's go back to the office."

"Har."

"I'm not talking about it anymore," he told me, but his eyes weren't even meeting mine.  "Get in the car."

Sighing, I sat in the seat, Harry waiting until I was fully in to shut the door for me.  Once he got in on his side, he managed to shut the door, turning on the car and immediately turning the music up.  I watched as he rolled down the window, Harry glancing at me as if to suggest that I should do the same.  I decided that since he was in such a bad mood, I would do it, quickly putting the window down before he began driving to the station.  I was pretty sure a Led Zeppelin song was playing, Harry drumming his thumbs to the music.  Though, I sat quietly for a while, staring out the window.  We were both silent, and while the music took away any awkwardness, I still felt weird.  He had never been irritated with me like this before, and it was when he pulled up to the stop light that he huffed, my eyes quickly glancing his way to see he was squeezing the steering wheel tightly.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I just can't find a happy fucking medium," he muttered.

"What do you mean?"

"It doesn't matter.  I'm going to drop you off at work and then go get my fucking meds because I can't take this shit.  I'm literally shaking."

Meds? Harry took medicine? He had never mentioned it before, but I recalled when I had mentioned taking medicine before, he had seemed overly interested.  It made me wonder what kind he took, but I assumed by the way that he was talking that it was some kind of calming medication. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" I murmured.

"No.  Actually, I think it's best if I don't talk right now because I am going to say something that I don't mean."

Nodding, I just stared out of the car, wondering why he was this upset with me.  Of course, I knew it had to be an intrinsic problem that was presenting itself extrinsically, but it didn't make me feel any better with that knowledge.  I still felt like I was the issue here.  It was my fault that he was in such a shitty mood. Now, it wasn't like I did something to drastically hurt him, but as the saying went, I was certain I was the straw that broke the camel's back.

"You don't have to come spend the night," I told him suddenly, the words hurting me because I did want him to come sleepover, but maybe it was too much.  "You can get me tomorrow."

"I'll come over," he stated.

"Harry.  You really don't have to."

"We can share the bed and I'll put a pillow between us," he said, my eyes focused on him gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were a stark white.  "It's fine."

I didn't say anything else to him.  He kept gripping the steering wheel like his life depended on it, and I continued to stare out the car until we pulled up to the station.  Rolling up my window, I grabbed my things, getting out of the car before Harry was anywhere near doing so on his side.  Though, before I could walk very far, he was moving to intercept me, standing by the trunk of the car as I stared up at him.

"Running away?" he asked.

"I have stuff to do."

"Don't be like that," he said to me.

"You just got mad at me.  I know it wasn't on purpose, but it felt like you didn't want me to even look in your direction."

"I'm very complicated," he stated, shrugging.  "I don't talk about my problems often because it makes me feel like something is wrong with me.  You understand that, don't you, doll?"

His tone was different.  It was like there was an underlying meaning to what he was saying, and I found myself staring at him, not exactly sure what to say to him.  After all, I felt like he was trying to express himself in a way that made no sense to me personally.  Even if he did have a lot of personal issues, I had been understanding.  I had tried my best to be good with him, understand his problems, and yet he still acted like I was doing almost nothing for him.  It made no sense to me, especially since I had been so caring with him at times when I probably didn't have to be.

"You can't treat me like this," I told him.  "I know that you don't like touch and stuff, but you freaked out."

"Okay ..." he nodded.  "I think we are both handling this poorly.  I shouldn't have yelled at you, but I'm telling you that when I get this stressed out, I am set off very easily."

Sighing, I felt like we were both at a stand still with how we felt.  I didn't think the way he had spoken to me was correct in the slightest, but he also didn't think that I should have touched him at all.  And sure, maybe I shouldn't have but it really did not give him a reason whatsoever to act the way that he had with me.  Glancing down at my hands, I watched as Harry's ringed fingers came into my view, the curly-haired personality flipping his hands over and holding them out to me palm up.  Gazing up at him, he nodded slowly, my hands falling into his.  He smiled at me, pulling my hands up to his lips.  He pressed a kiss to the back of each one before he kissed my wrists, my cheeks flushing when he started pressing his lips along my forearm toward my elbow.

"Stop," I laughed.

"What?" he smiled, his good hand cupping my cheek while he leaned in on the opposite side and kissed the hinge of my jaw.

"Harry."

"Mhm?" he hummed against my jaw, placing several kisses to the same spot.

"Stop.  I'm mad at you."

"You like me too much," he chuckled softly. 

"You hate touch, why is this okay?" I asked.

"I'm initiating and I don't like when hands are on me," he said softly, pulling back to look at me now.  "Like, if you put your hands on me, I am not in control of that.  If you put your arms around me, I feel trapped.  Not always, but it is how it feels at times."

"Okay.  I'll try and be better."

"You have been better," he nodded.  "I remember you used to just grab and hug me whenever.  You don't do it as much anymore and I appreciate it."

"So are you going to go home and take your medicine?"

"Mhm.  And then I'll come pick you up from work and we can go to yours," he murmured.

"I'm sorry again."

"It's good, doll.  I just get really stressed, I'm sorry."

He pressed several kisses to my wrists again, a giggle leaving my lips when he playfully bit me there as well, my cheeks flushing when I glanced down to see the indentations from him.  He smiled at me, shaking his head before leaning in and pressing a kiss to my cheek.  I smiled at him, Harry letting go of me.

"Go do your things."

"Okay."

"Those wrists are mine tomorrow," he stated.  "You're getting tied up."

"Harry!" I scoffed.

"What? You think I forgot? No way.  Actually, that little pink cun–"

"Stop!" I laughed, and I knew my face was bright red. 

"What? What?" he chuckled, holding his arms up in defense.  "You're gonna be begging for me so bad tomorrow.  I can't wait."

Rolling my eyes at him, I laughed when he waved to me, standing by the open door of his car now.  Waving a goodbye to him, I headed up to the station, glancing over my shoulder once I reaced the door to see he was still watching me.  Of course, I still was a little irritated that he had gotten so upset with me, but he was always very good about making it up to me as well.  I knew I needed to be vocal that his behavior was not okay.  Yet, I also needed to be understanding as well.  I knew that there was an underlying reason behind the way that he was, I just never understood what it was exactly.  And, hopefully, he would feel comfortable enough to tell me one day. 

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a/n: this was too cute not to show <3 i just had to include it somehow like imagine him writing in her little journal oh i'm SICK

i've also noticed some people aren't sure how to pronounce "Har" when i use it. i personally would rhyme with it with "car" but if you prefer to say "Har" that sounds like "hair" i don't mind either, i just wanted to make sure i cleared up any confusion.

also, don't forget to follow me on twt @/nikeystyles to get sneak peeks and updates <3

and last reminder that my set schedule to update is now only sunday!

kisses kisses kisses i love you guys <3