And so it goes. Harry's room became my escape route and safety valve. At first it was just those nights where there was an unwelcome guest in my room. Or when I was unceremoniously pushed out into the hallway and a sock shoved over the door knob. Whenever my brother pulled that move, all I could think was I hope he showed a bit more finesse with whoever was his company for the evening. Poor thing.

I'd stumble out into the hallway and sometimes I would not even have to knock, Harry would hear the commotion and his door would open to me, Agra cadabra. Most nights I'd plop on the couch, turn on the game and hand him his ass at whatever we were playing. He was getting better though.

"What do you want from room service?" The phone was pressed to his ear, and really every menu was pretty much the same, had the basics.

"Um, can I get a club?" I looked up at him and I was surprised he wasn't waiting for me to make eye contact. Harry was kind of intense with the eye contact, truthfully. Instead,his eyes were glued to my bare legs. Tonight, I'd been pretty settled in, I'm not even sure where the girl came from, it was an off day, so I was in sleep shorts and a t. Thank god I had on a braz But phones were a thing, and a text message was all it took apparently, retch. When he realized that I caught him staring, he jerked his eyes up to mine and his cheeks colored just a little. The little smile he gave me was apologetic and popped his left dimple, so I was willing to overlook his wandering eye. The path his eyes had left over my legs could be followed still, while we looked at each other because my skin had risen up to his gaze.

"Im sorry, what?" Harry suddenly said into the phone and turned away from me. I was a little breathless and drug myself from the couch over to the tv to check the connections on the Xbox and insert the game. I smiled to myself as I put in the fifa cartridge. It was my favorite. He had yet to beat me.

I wandered back over to the couch and found that Styles had spread himself out quite grandly. His gangly legs reached across the couch,his ass finding a place somewhere near the middle.

"Where am I supposed to sit?" I laughed as he brought the controllers over to him.

"I have a perfect throne for you, madame," his fake French accent was horrible and I laughed despite myself and hoped it covered the blush at the suggestion that I sit on his lap.

"Nah, that's seat looks a little bony, mate," I commented.

"Bony!" He chaffed, "I'm not bony, I'm pure muscle over here! I'm a man!"

"Alright, big man, scoot over so I can sit down and kick your ass at fifa—"

"Fifa,". He groaned  and moved just enough, dropping his feet to the floor.

"Fifa!" I cheered and dropped right next to him. The only place he had left me. After the lingering glances, the fact that my thigh was pressed to his felt different.

We had been sharing a bed whenever we were in a hotel lately. My brother was all kinds of self involved as he had yet to notice that I was not returning to our room until morning. That, or his vampiric schedule was keeping him from even being aware.

The bed sharing was entirely platonic. It was more that Harry was to much of a gentleman to let me sleep on the couch, floor, or, fuck's sake, the hallway, but he loved sleep to much to not sleep in the beg fluffy hotel beds. They were king sized and it was totally usual for us to wake up on entirely opposite ends of the mattress. The one time we had not slept like that, the first night, I had woken up with his tentacle like arms wrapped around me and his knee between my own. I wish I had taken the time to enjoy it, but instead the lack of familiarity freaked me out. My consciousness had returned slowly and I'd been surrounded by a not entirely unfamiliar smell. It was pleasant and I had nuzzled down into it at the outset, it was when my nose encountered a arm, with light fuzz and heated skin that I shook awake. I'd never slept next to a boy. My imitation grand mal had disturbed Harry. He had groaned awake and pulled his legs out from around mine. I'd extricate my upper body away effectively with my jerky movements.

"Fuck's sake, Mel!" He croaked. Whoa, his voice was low and rumbly, my stomach responded in kind. I'm not sure if it rolled or tightened, but it was as unfamiliar as being in bed with another person.

"Sorry," I pushed my hair from my face.

"Did you forget where you were?" His voice was warming, like the talking had oiled its rusty parts.

"I guess," I shrugged and collapsed back onto the pillow, the one we must have been laid next to each other on. He laid back down as well, but gave me the space I needed to calm myself down.  His calf still met mine from ankle to knee, but I could ignore that, kind of. It felt like this was the most physical contact I'd had with a human being in a long time. My family was not affectionate physically. We more took the piss and stood up for each other. I'd seen that harry was the tactile sort from watching him with the lads and the hair lady, Lou and her little girl. He was often in some kind of love puddle with Lux. It was adorable. I tried to chalk his night time cuddling up to that. "I've never slept with anybody before."

"Oh," was his succinct reply.

Since that first night, I had not woken up with long limbs wound round me. I found myself missing it. How does one miss something you didn't have time to get used to?

Though I did not wake up to octopus cuddles, I did wake up to him with frequency. We spent lots of time together. Only increasing. I even found myself in his room when my brother hadn't kicked me out. Sometimes he would not even be back before I found myself in the hallway looking at Harry's door. Sometimes he would meet me in the hallway on the way back to his room. He would simply nod and lead me into his room. He didn't touch me much, but I could always feel his palm hovering over my lower back. The inches between would notch up a degree of two from the heat of his body. Once I stopped before he expected me to, and his hand connected to my sacrum. I tried to engineer more moments like that afterwards. I'd been successful twice. His palm burned like a brand those three times we made contact.

His long thigh was doing the same to my own now. I wished he was wearing shorts as well instead of joggers. What would it feel like to have his skin pressed to mine while I was awake and aware and able to savor it?

My mind had wandered off and Harry was fist pumping the air.

"Nice job!" I congratulated. I wanted to point out that he only scored because I wasn't paying attention, but I had no interest in explaining why. Best to let him think he was actually getting better. Overconfidence would work in my favor.

"You hungry?" He asked after he eeked out a victory while I pondered the alignment of him to me.

"Yeah, where the hell is the room service?" I complained.

"Not sure, I'll call after I have a wee."

"I can call." I confirmed and he smiled on his way out of the room with a nod of thanks.

I made the call and he came back. His next move surprised me again. I wasn't sure what threshold in our friendship we had crossed, but he approached the couch, pirouetted, and fell into my lap with a sigh. His head fell into the cradle of my lap. He blew out air from his mouth and I covered my nerves like I always did, with humor. "Make yourself comfortable."

"I'm quite comfortable, thanks," he cheesed up at me. "What did the room service say?"

"10 minutes, they have unusual volume," I air-quoted.

"Yeah, two full touring groups will do that. Especially when half of them are stuck in the hotel."

I hesitated a moment before I asked the question surfing on my tongue. "Do you hate that?" I asked, we had never talked about this.I felt his shoulders bump against my thighs in reply. "It must be really hard..." I prompted.

"It sucks, sometimes, but I am so lucky. I get to make music for a living and I have fans who love me, ya so much that they camp outside to meet us. I'm gratef—,"

I laughed outright, "Harry, I'm not a journalist."

He raised his eyebrows, so I continued, "I'm not gonna tell anybody what you say. You can tell me it's annoying. It is. It's a pain in my ass, and they could care less about me. I also get to leave the hotels."

"I can leave the hotel."

"With massive amounts of security and at the risk of being mobbed." I scoffed and nudged him with my hand on his shoulder.

He sighed, "alright, IT would be really nice to see the amazing places we go. Next year when we go to South America, I'm not missing Manchu peechu. I'm thinking about making it a condition on the next tour rider."

"Is that the tour they want to film?"

"Yeah, they'll probably agree because it will make for great footage."

"What a cinematic moment. Harry ascends the Andes," we shared a conspiratorial grin. "What else do you not like about it?" He hesitated. I jostled him, "C'mon Harry, talk to me. You gotta talk to somebody." My hand had found his hair at some point and I was petting him. The physical contact seem to be some kind of key to an unknown lock, because the words just started flowing.

"I wish we had some freedom. Like, everything, that I tweet is dissected down to its last letter or misspelling. Who I follow and what they say is some kind of direct reflection to or of me," he stumbled over his words. "I feel like, um," his hand had found his lip and he was pulling it, slowing the rumble of his frustration. He seemed to have found a way to get stuck into his own head.

"You feel like,"I wrapped my fingers around the back or his ear and ran my nails from the lobe up, up, up until he purred.

The levee broke then and I catalogued another button to unlock his secrets. "I hate all the stuff with the girls, like, the ones I date, or, um, want to date I stay away from because having your name attached to mine can be an, um, a nightmare. I also have to wonder about their motivation all the time. If they are into me, or a means to an end. Even the ones who are famous in their own right. Like, are they just trying to get verified on instagram?"

"How do you pick someone, can you trust the connection?" I supplied, trying to keep him talking. The words were coming out in a torrent and I'd never heard him talk that fast before. Ever.
"Like, sometimes, I know the connection is real, but I fucking avoid it like the plague, um, cuz they may be into me too, but if I care about them, what's gonna happen to them? How are they going to feel when people shit all over them everyday, ya know. And if they say they can stand it and try when will it be too much? So, like, the ones I want to stick around I push away because I don't want them to be hurt, and the ones who want to stick around I, like, immediately distrust because they must have some kinda motive, ya know?" He breathed.

"Not really, but I can imagine," my hand remained in his hair and the other was clutching his shoulder.

"I guess I should be grateful, and I am, all the time, for my life. But so much of it is constant movement, constant pressure, that nothing feels fun. Even the fun stuff. And when I have fun, I'm so worried someone will find out."

My brows went up, "what do you mean?"

"I mean I watch the other boys be rowdy and hook up and I used to too, but everyone is paying so much attention to our every move, especially mine, that, like, someone inevitably finds out. It's almost not worth it. I have this feeling I'm gonna get to a place where I'd rather be like, alone in a hotel room wanking than with someone." He heaved with his sigh, "and I hate that I'll choose loneliness over company because of all the fame bullshit."

"That may not happen. Maybe you'll find someone who can handle it, and you trust."
I pressed on his shoulder until he looked at me. "You guys work really hard, like all the time. I see you, hear you. Constantly running and recording and being shopped songs. You should have fun when you can. You're only but young, Harry. This is just right now. It'll pass and maybe ease up-,"

"Maybe," he conceded. "God, all this talking wiped me out, wanna go to bed soon?"

"Yeah, let me put the trays out, and I'll be in." I watched him move off and thought about everything he'd said. He didn't seem convinced that things would calm down, I wasn't either. It seemed like he was in this roller coaster for another couple of years at least. I was also really nervous about laying down with him tonight. I took my time cleaning up the debris we had left while eating. When I glanced at the clock I was shocked by the late hour. We'd sat together on that couch and Harry, silly act Harry, had talked for hours.

The talking was not what had made me so nervous. I really like the talking. I felt like we were homies before hand, like bros. I was used to that position. Had learned to accept it. He was not the first boy who made my bones sing and skin pucker up to be kissed yet had seen me as one of the guys- just someone to hang out with. The talk though, i felt like, well maybe I hoped, that it had elevated our relationship. Like maybe we had moved from people who were around each other, who hung out, to real friends.

By the time I had washed up and was ready to get to bed, Harry was nearly asleep. I pussy footed around the bed.

"Wha," he dropped the t, and I was charmed by the affect his tiredness and homeplace brought out.

"I was wondering if I could get a shirt?" My cheeks flamed, but I'd worn this one for 24 hours and just wasn't prepared to lie down in the grittiness. I'd have to make sure to send it out tomorrow when we got to the next hotel. Maybe I'd skip the venue and get stuff done. I usually spent most of it backstage anyway, only finding my way to a seat or a corner with a view when 1D were on and when the setlist got to a place where Harry was prominent.

"Yeah, take this one," he pulled the shirt from his body and handed it to me on a yawn. I danced on my feet for a moment. "Go ahead," he said, "I won't look," he said and I was sorry he meant it. All my bravado had evaporated in the face of actual intimacy. He had rolled a bit away and closed his exhausted eyes. I decided that if he saw, let him, and I stretched and pulled and was aware that I had never cared so much how the act of changing looked. I left my bra on, mostly because taking it off at the moment, even with his eyes closed, felt like a statement of intent. My hopes had not formed so fully yet though, so I put on his top first.

When I pulled it over my face I silenced the sigh that sought voice as the warm scented cotton smoothed over me. I looked at Harry, but his eyes were closed, for better or worse.

Bra or no bra. My breast were big enough that I needed one and usually sighed in relief when the end of the day meant I could quit it. I knew that my  tour mates band mates hand even made comments,  and I'd been made aware by my brother that I was to wear a bra at all times, please. That was said under duress. I usually slept in them with Harry, but I really wanted to take my bra off.

"Cmon, I can't sleep with you hovering and I need you body heat," he didn't open his eyes as he spoke, so I pulled my arms into his shirt and quitted my bra quickly. I left on my shorts though. Mostly because I had neglected knickers when hastily dressing on the bus this morning.

When I got into bed, Harry did something he had never done before. Instead of a hastily murmured good night from the other side of the bed, he rolled towards me and my place in the middle and wrapped his arms around my trunk before he pulled me closer into him.

"This alright?" His breath brushed my ear and I nodded because it was my only option. He seemed to nod off quickly, but I was awake for some time after that. Thinking about those arms, that seemed to be getting bigger, tanner, and more defined daily, and the fact that I could feel his heat, even through the shirt.

Being surrounded by Harry was a place I didn't know how to be in. I was a tourist in a place I had never been to. I didn't speak the language, and Frommer's hadn't written me a helpful guide. I was a bit lost.

 But I never wanted to go home.