"Baby, I Need You," she knew what she sounded like, and had been distracting herself in every possible way to keep herself from making this call. Laurel had spent hours in the gym, had volunteered to cut patterns at work, and who knows how much time she had spent at the hospital.

She'd also been patently avoiding Willy. Laurel was fed up with herself. She felt like she was stringing him along and it was killing her. Two weeks ago she was all in. His accent made her quiver and he was everything she loved in a man, sexy and androgynous and talented. Even better, he was available and into her. He'd made it clear that he wanted her, but that included dates and doting and the deed.

Their first date he had arranged to close down a gallery and he'd shown her work by his favorite photographer. Laurel completely expected to walk in to rows of pictures of beautiful people and to be bored. She saw a lot of fashion photography at work. More concerning, what if the walls were full of him? Laurel could tell they had potential, he'd put his hand on her lower back and the region had lit up like a Christmas trees. Laurel was afraid if he was proven so hopelessly superficial already that her budding feelings, the first she'd had since she'd walked into Harry's house two years ago for anyone but him, would wilt.

Laurel was pleasantly surprised to walk into a virtual photostory about human dignity in the midst of war and poverty and plague. Then, Willy further blew her away by explaining how he'd met the photographer once when he was visiting his family in Vietnam and that he'd spent most of his trip traveling with him and the volunteer work it sparked. He was heavily involved with water projects and had dug several wells in his off time. He then took her to a tiny noodle shop and they talked over £5 bowls of ramen for hours. He told her about Frank and their break up and how no one had caught his eye until her.
It was great, and her mind only wandered to Harry a couple times, a record for sure.

The date ended well too. He'd walked her to her flat door and kissed her cheek so close to the corner of her mouth it had left her breathless. He'd then pressed his gorgeous lips to each of the back of Laurel's hands and said, "I've had a lovely time. May I see you again tomorrow?"

Wow, very different from the relationship she was used to. Though that was a very loose term. And he did turn up the next day, and everyday they were available for weeks. And he didn't kiss her, not for a long while, let alone receive her advances when she made her attraction known. Willy simply acknowledged and returned the appreciation. By the time they finally did kiss, right before going to a pub one evening, strangely close to Harry's house, she was floating. His lips were perfect and he was so gentle and he cupped her jaw in his hands like she was made of glass.

She'd loved it. However, when she slept with him the night they ran into Harry again she was disappointed. He also touched her like she was made of glass. Willy was so slow to enter her and hesitant with his strokes. It felt good, but wasn't enough. She'd taken the reins and found herself closing her eyes to climax, not to focus on sensation, but to visualize another set of eyes, another body. Willy's body was beautiful, but completely unmarred, no dark etchings or moles or unexplainable chubs.

Harry occasionally touched her like she was spun glass, he'd then temper her with fire and test her strength. It was the contrast that made their communion unbelievable. Willy wasn't so much bad, but he suffered by comparison.

So, after her first time accepting Willy into her bed and body, she found herself texting Harry. His hold had never broken, just slackened.

The next morning, she was so regretful she promised herself she would not contact him. Laurel threw herself into Willy's arms and exhausted herself trying to force the connection. He was so ideal otherwise.

When that wasn't working, she headed to the gym.

Sweat dripped down over her brow as she pushed herself through the set she was on. The cold of the universal bar sat across the meaty part of her upper back. Laurel bent her legs and held her core in tight until her thigh paralleled the ground. She pushed up through her heels and grunted. She'd intended to bench press today, but when she laid down on the bench she remember last September when she had worked out with Harry and the push and pull always present between them resulted in her balancing on her tightly closed knees, hands clutching the textured center of a thick barbel while Harry groaned behind her. The gym was ruined she guessed.

The next day, she went in to work early and stayed late, telling Willy that Ed had a private client to prepare for. Not a lie, more a fib. She cut the silk chiffon in front of her and put away thoughts of a similar folded fabric tied across her eyes so that her vision was obscured, not blocked. Laurel put that out of her mind and focused on the seam cutter she was using to open a hem until she heard Ed on the phone

"Yes, of course Mr. Styles, Laurel is here, would you like me to send it with her?" Ed asked.

She looked up frantically and shook her head twice, Ed got the message and found an alternative before he hung up. He looked at her quizzically but she stared him down until he bowed his head and stopped silenty asking. When he walked by, he placed his hand on her shoulder. Later, when he saw her shady button Willy, he was the one shaking his head.

The following day, her libido was in the backseat, but her emotional need was overwhelming. The air was stale and blowing hard enough to pebble every bit of exposed skin while she listened to the doctor. Laurel's first instinct, after she emptied her stomach into a bin outside the sliding walls of glass, was to call Harry.

"Baby, I need you," she said frantically.

"God, Laurel I need you too. What's going on? It sounds windy," Harry's voice ticked up at the end.

"It's the blower above the door. Can I come over?" She was already walking towards the tube.

Harry hesitated a moment, and she was relieved when he responded, "yeah, I'm on my way home. Should be there, like, in 5 minutes?"

"I think I could be with you in a half hour," Laurel guessed as she scanned her Oyster card, "I'm going underground, I'll see you soon."

Once on the train she rocked herself back and forth and sang tupelo honey under her breath. Her mother always sang that to calm her down.

The intermittent rain that hung over London like a blanket was coming down when she exited the station near Harry's place. Laurel barely felt it until her clothing was soaked through and a chill, separate from the one in her bones, crept in.

When Harry opened the door to her he tilted his head and gave her a quizzical look before pulling her inside and into his warm arms.

"You are wet through! Let me put on the kettle and get you some dry clothes," he said as he pulled her from the foyer into his living room. "Just give me a minute." He ventured up the stairs.

Laurel wasn't sure what compelled her to follow him. Probably that when his arms were around her it was the warmest she had felt since the doctor came into the room.

Harry looked surprised by her presence in his room when he turned from his chest of drawers and found her under the door jam.

"You gave me a fright, you didn't have to come up here, I was gonna bring them down to you," he held the clothes out to her.

The snick of her shirt coming off was the only sound besides Harry's breathing until her jeans and panties hit the hardwood with a wet thud. The Who t shirt and joggers fell from his hand when he reached out to catch her in her head long rush. The rain on her lips obscured his flavor at first, but soon she could taste the spearmint and coffee she associated with his breath. Laurel pushed him back to the bed and he fell when his knees made contact. She followed him down and her hair formed a curtain.

"Touch me, I'm so cold," she didn't recognize her own voice over the choked sob it came out on. Harry obeyed for a few moments, smoothing his large palms over her chilled goose flesh. The world inverted and she found herself beneath him as he pulled the blanket across them. All she could focus on was him above her and the warmth she'd missed since she heard the words 'two months' in the cold green room while sitting on the rigid brown chair.

Harry pulled back from her and she was reminded she preferred celery green to the dull moss. Laurel leaned up to kiss him but Harry pulled back from her.

"Are you crying?" His thumb caught the tears she was unaware were still tracking down her cheeks.

"Am I?" Laurel tried to roll away to hide her face.

"Laurel, baby, what's going on? Did something happen with Willy?" He swallowed her boyfriend's name like it tasted bad.

Her boyfriend, fuck she had to go. She didn't want to be this person. Laurel was someone people leaned on, not this.

She scrambled up and tried to pull her clothes over her nakedness.

"Stop, Stop, Laurel your clothes are wet, take mine. What's wrong? Please talk to me," he begged as she grabbed the t shirt from him and carried the joggers to the door.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she repeated, to him and herself as she pulled his pants on at the foot of the stairs.

Laurel was almost the the door when he caught he about the waist and pulled her close.

"Baby, please talk to me, what happened, what is going on? Let me help," he turned her round and used his thumb to raise her chin.

She looked at him through her tears. Laurel broke from his embrace and pulled open the door. She looked over her shoulder," You can't Harry, I have to save myself."

AN- thanks again for the banner and , , and for listening to me blather on. Also, this story has had an awesome response, thank you for reading and responding! Reblogs are love