He looks so cute, like a kid. His eyes scanning his reflection with the perplexity of someone seeing his face for the very first time.

He keeps turning his face to both sides, studying himself from every single angle, sometimes smiling at what he sees, and some other times sighing nostalgically.

After my father made the cut and got rid of the mane, my mother was kind enough to style it as best as she could, and I have to say, she did a pretty good job.

She slightly shaved the sides and did a few nips at the top, so it almost looks like a semi professional haircut. Almost being the key word.

"I can't believe you did that, though." I say, walking towards him and hugging him from behind as I look at him in the glass. "I mean, I know you had to sooner or later, but still. I think it was pretty romantic."

I run my fingers through his now short hair, and the feeling is quite strange but nice. My lips touch the soft skin where his earlobe ends, noticing for the first time that it's attached to the side of his head, which is a rather strange genetic trait, and he trembles a little.

He smiles and slowly turns around, looking around the room for a few seconds and then at me.

"I love you."

He says it just like that, like it is nothing but a mere reflex brought upon seeing my face. No thinking, no beating around the bushes; straightforward and spontaneous. And, if you ask me, that is the best way you can ever say it.

"I love you, too." I respond in the same manner, and it feels so right, I hate the fact that we haven't said it sooner.

But I guess there's a reason as to why we haven't, even if I can't see it now. Maybe we were just afraid to burst the bubble we have been living in for the last couple of weeks, maybe we were scared there might not be anything outside of it.

Whatever the reasons were, it doesn't matter now. Because this, exactly as it is happening, is absolutely perfect.

Harry Styles, the boy I used to admire and drool over as a kid, the man that was not afraid to swallow his wounded pride or pick up the pieces of a heart I broke just to wipe the slate clean, the love of my life, is here, in the very same bedroom where I used to build fantasies about us being together just like we are now. Happy and in love.

The bubble has finally burst and there is so much more outside of it; and it's not scary. Not anymore.

We kiss and it feels like the first time, if not better. This is our fist kiss with both of our hearts fully and irreversibly open. This is the kiss that seals the deal.

"God, you look really good." I say, barely catching my breath, as my hands  touch his hair again.

Somewhere during our kiss, we found our way to my bed and we are both lying there, tangled with each other.

My eyes can't leave his face and how perfect it is, even without his signature curls framing it.

"You think so? I feel so weird!" He pouts, and that boyish appearance seems to accentuate even more. "I haven't had such short hair for years now."

"Well, I think you're pulling it off quite nicely." I assure him, giving him a quick peck on the lips before snuggling closer to him.

He sighs and tightens his grip on me, putting his mouth against my hair.

"Either way, it was totally worth it." He says. "I'm in your bedroom!"

I laugh loudly at his words and how he says them, and I bury my face on the crook of his neck, lingering for a few seconds and then kissing him softly. Again, he shudders.

"Are you looking to start a war, love?" He asks me, with his voice suddenly raspy and filled with purpose. "Don't you think that's rather ill advised, with your parents sleeping right at the end of the hall?"

His hands find my face and pulls me away from him, forcing me to look straight into his eyes just when his pupils dilate so wide, there is barely any green left in them.

"What if I am?" I tease, pressing my hips against him, feeling how his body reacts almost immediately to my advances. "Would you fight it or wave the white flag?"

His mouth collides against mine with a force that takes me by surprise, giving me a clear answer to my question. His hands grope up and down my back, skillfully undoing my bra and then undressing me completely.

In a second, I recover from the shock and I roll him to the side, straddling myself atop of him and pinning him against the mattress by the shoulders.

He looks at me, then at my naked upper body, and he gasps, as if he was seeing me like this for the very first time.

"Dear lord, I fucking love you!" He says, successfully freeing himself just enough to straighten himself up and grabbing me by the hair so my throat is fully exposed.

"So you keep saying, Styles." I breathe out when his teeth begin to graze their way up from my collarbone to where the pulse is pounding at the side of my neck. "Now do something about it."

*****

The next morning we wake up surprisingly early, considering that we finally fell asleep rather late.

We lay there in bed, too lazy to move, for a good hour or so, and all we do is make out and laugh about stupid jokes about his new style.

"Is like I can still feel it, you know?" He says, raking his fingers through the short length of his hair and he frowns. "I think there's a name for it..."

"You mean like phantom limb syndrome?" I cackle, and he nods.

"Exactly!" He doesn't laugh, though. Instead he looks rather worried that this is his actual condition.

"Oh, you poor thing!" I say emphatically, placing my hand on his cheek which he grabs to kiss.

First is my hand, then he starts moving up to my wrist and up my arm until he reaches the shoulder.

I can read his intentions all too well, and I would like nothing else but to let him continue; but I can already hear movements down the stairs in the kitchen, so I stop him rather abruptly.

"Oh, come on!" He whines adorably, and I shake my head, jumping out of bed to put some healthy distance between us.

"My parents are up!" I tell him, throwing him a clean shirt from his bag. "We should take a shower and go down."

"Is that an invitation?" He slides out of the bed, standing naked in all his glory, raising his eyebrows at me in what I can only assume is a seductive expression, although poorly executed.

"You wish." I wave him off, looking else where. "Get in there..."

He scoffs and I push him into the bathroom, closing the door behind him just when my mother is opening the door without even knocking.

Luckily for me, I am wearing his t-shirt from last night.

"Oh! I'm so sorry... It's the force of habit, I guess." She apologizes upon me being annoyed by her intrusion.

I tell her that is all right, and she smiles asking me if we had a good night sleep and wanting to know how Harry is coping with his loss.

Then she leaves the correspondence in my name that still arrives at this house in my nightstand, and telling me that breakfast is ready whenever we are, she storms out of the room almost as quickly as she stormed in.

A few minutes later Harry steps out of the bathroom, and I rush in to take a quick shower myself before we have to go downstairs.

"Jesus! I'm starving!" I whimper as I walk out, rubbing a towel on my dripping hair. "Are you ready? I'll put on some clothes and we'll..."

Harry is standing by the bed next to the nightstand, and he has a very pensive, almost confused, look on his face as he stares at the envelope in his hands.

I frown at him, curious as to why he's so focused on, and then he looks up at me with a strange expressions on his face.

"What the fuck is this?"

A/N:

Today is my birthday and I am feeling a little generous, so I decided to release a new chapter earlier.

What do you think so far? And what do you think Harry just found that's gotten him all upset?

Anyway, if you liked this chapter, don't forget to vote for it!

Love you!

Lucy.