You groan as you toss your phone away from you, not even caring when it bounced off the bed and onto the floor with a clatter. For a second you just rub your temples and try to practice your deep, yoga breathing, not wanting to work your blood pressure any higher than it already was. 

Your wedding is two months away and it felt like everything in the universe was conspiring against your wishes. You didn’t happen to think that the sweet, cozy little ceremony that you and Harry agreed that you wanted was too much to ask for, but nothing was going right. Susie, the wedding planner, was working her poor fingers to the bone trying to coordinate everything for you, but it seemed every other day she was calling you with another snag she’d run into. Without her, plus the incredibly gracious help and support of Harry’s and your own family, you think you would’ve thrown all of it to the wind and just run off to Vegas.

 

Harry’s long body is sprawled sideways on his favorite armchair when you come shuffling into the living room with a bowl of ice cream to try to ease your stress, attention split between the tv and his phone.

"That was Susie on the phone," you tell him with a heavy sigh as you sink onto the couch, digging into your ice cream. "She says I have to change the color of the bridesmaids dresses, AGAIN. I swear this stuff is gonna drive me completely nuts." You get a disinterested grunt from Harry in response, and when you look at him he hasn’t even picked his head up in your direction, continuing to type on the screen of his phone. Clearing your throat a little, you pipe up again, "Speaking of the colors, did you ever look over those flower designs that I showed you?"

"No, I haven’t," he replies dryly, still not seeming to care enough to look at you, and you frown.

"Why not? Susie can’t put the order in for them until we tell her which ones we want, and she needs as much time as possible." This time Harry doesn’t even say anything. You put your bowl on the cocktail table and lean over, touching his arm. "Harry?"

"What?" His voice and eyes are harsher than normal when he finally turns around and looks at you, and not being used to it you recoil just a bit. "Y/N, what is it?"

"I was asking about the flowers. We need to pick which colors we like." Harry does everything but roll his eyes, turning back to his phone.

"Why don’t you just pick them? I told you, it doesn’t really matter to me. They’re just fucking flowers, aren’t they?" As stressed as you are, and knowing that he’s as stressed as he is, you know you shouldn’t take as much offense to his words as you do, but you can’t help it. Your jaw drops a little bit, and you lean forward towards him.

"Not really, Harry. They’re part of our wedding, you know, the occasion where we stand in front of everyone and pledge to be together forever?" He swings his long legs over until he’s able to sit up and give you an exasperated look. 

"Exactly. That’s all it should be about, all that other stuff isn’t important."

"Harry…" you start, shaking your head in disbelief and no small amount of hurt. "You were the one that said you wanted to make this special…" He tosses his phone onto the table, digging the fingers of both hands in his hair.

"Yeah, well, maybe I didn’t know it would add so much extra bullshit to my life. Look," he pushes his phone in your direction, eyeing you accusingly. "My PR team is riding my ass about making all these fucking appearances that I don’t wanna go to, they’ve just scrapped another one of my songs that I wrote, and tour rehearsals are kicking my ass every day, and you want me to worry about these stupid flowers or what type of tealights will be on the tables or some shit and I just-I just don’t care about it right now, alright? I can’t care about it. I’ve got too much shit going on, Y/N.” 

By the time Harry has finished his tirade he’s on his feet and stomping from the room, leaving you stunned and defeated on the couch. You try to take a deep steadying breath, but it doesn’t make you feel any better at all. You’re equal parts angry and hurt; it’s rare, but Harry does have a tendency sometimes to treat your problems like they’re not as important as his, but it’s never been this severe before. Not to mention this doesn’t just involve you, but him too. Hearing him talk about your wedding plans like that, like he could care less about marrying you, like it’s not even on his list of priorities, makes your chest tighten painfully. 

For the next hour or so you languish on the couch, your ice cream uneaten and melted in front of you as you stare listlessly at the television. Harry doesn’t make a peep nor does he attempt to reconcile with you in any way, and when you finally decide it’s time to get started on dinner (there’s a package of salmon fillets in the fridge that need to be cooked before they go bad, regardless of any fights you and Harry are in the middle of), you do so with a heavy heart. You had planned on having him help you when you made this, but, well, there went that idea.

You’re halfway through chopping some vegetables, the smell of warm olive oil wafting through the kitchen, when you feel the first tears coming on. Harry’s words, which you had previously forbade yourself to repeat, run through your head on an endless loop.

It doesn’t matter to me.

I didn’t know it would add so much extra bullshit in my life.

I just don’t care about it right now, alright?

You finally have to stop chopping to protect your fingers when the tears blur your vision enough, and you press the back of one hand to your eyes. You sniffle, your body wracking with the first few quiet sobs. 

"…Y/N?" Harry’s voice is quiet in the doorway to the kitchen, and you instantly turn your face away from his direction, wiping your hands and face on a towel before going back to your vegetables.

"Yeah?" He doesn’t respond to you, and you’re not about to turn to him and give him a good look at your red, miserable face, but you feel his presence behind you. 

"I-I don’t know what to say, Y/N. I can’t believe I said those things to you." He sounds so anguished, perhaps even on the verge of tears himself, and a few more tears slide down your cheeks as you sniffle again. "Y/N, I…" You feel the warmth of his large hands, hovering over your shoulders, unsure if you’ll accept them on you. Wordlessly, you reach with one hand and take hold of his, and Harry almost instantly molds to your back, arms sliding around your front as he hugs you tightly to him. 

"I’m sorry I was pushing you…" you murmur, allowing him to use you as his rock to lean on. He shakes his head.

"You weren’t. I just, I…everything’s so fucked, baby…" His voice breaks in the middle of his sentence, his body starting to shake against you, and you struggle to turn around in his embrace. Looking up into his face you see that the past hour hasn’t been kind to him either, his hair forms a mess on top of his head, eyes swollen and heartrending and watching you like you’re the only thing he’s got left in the world. You reach up and cup his face, heart breaking for him. "I want to marry you more than anything, I care about the wedding, I care about you and how hard you’re working on it and I’ve been a shit fiance not helping you at all, but it’s just…" He takes a shaking breath and gives you a searching look, hoping you’ll understand what he’s trying to say to you, and of course you do. It’s just that he’s exhausted, drained so completely by everyone and everything, it’s just that Harry’s giant heart is constantly giving, giving, giving, and everyone expects him to be fine while he’s not getting anything in return except rumors and accusations and a heap of expectations to be perfect and all privacy taken from him. 

"Maybe we should postpone it then…"

"No!" Harry looks stricken at the very idea, clutching your hands that are still on his face and holding them to his chest. "I don’t want to postpone it, I’m not doing that. They try to take everything away from me, but not this. Not you." He shakes his head, squeezing your hands tighter. "I’m so sorry I made you cry, I’m sorry I let it get to me, but I promise, Y/N I promise, I love you so much and us getting married couldn’t be more important to me.” His outburst makes tears fill your eyes again, and you lean forward into him, pressing your face into his chest while his arms envelop you. The two of you stay like that for a long time, you don’t bother to try counting the minutes, both of you leaning on and providing comfort for the other, taking the time to silently mend the crack that had been made in the little cocoon of safety and trust you’ve always shared with each other.

"I like the red ones with the gold trim." Confused, you look up at him.

"What?" Harry gives you a small smile, his thumb brushing your cheek fondly.

"The flowers. I like the red ones with the gold." You feel yourself smiling, even as you pull his head down for a kiss. 

"Those are my favorite too."