Seven

2.5K 74 53
                                    

Dedication: Harry, Louis, Liam, Niall, Zayn & my Directioner family. <3 This fandom has become like a giant family and I've met some really great people through it. Happy 7 years. Here's chapter 7 for 7 years of being part of something so amazing!

Harry fell back onto his bed in pure bliss, his eyes gently closed and a closed smile gracing his lips. The fluff of his comforter making it seem as though he was on a cloud. There wasn't any movement throughout the apartment - no TV noise, random knocking on the walls, no fears of anyone walking in the room unannounced. Best of all, there wasn't a crazy and washed up child actor knocking uncontrollably on the door. It was relieving to finally be home.

The flight home wasn't as smooth as Harry had wanted. Liam was upset that he had to leave Niall earlier than planned and he moped around the whole flight. Harry felt terrible because they had left Ireland on his behalf and he had ruined his best friend's shot at true love. Ellie had to deal with the modelling agency, who weren't very pleased that they had left early. It wasn't like it was that big of deal because they were literally paying them to have a few day's vacation. They should be happy that they don't have to spend as much money.

Either way, Harry knew that Ellie and Liam had a bit of saltiness towards him. He didn't blame them. It wasn't like he wanted to leave Ireland - it was such a beautiful country. He was forced to because he didn't want to be involved in a scandal nor did he want the paparazzi to follow his every move because he was spotted with an actor that was most known for getting high on his free time. That wasn't something that Harry wanted to be associated with and he didn't think that his agency would want that either, so he was going to do what he had to in order to protect both his privacy and his reputation that he had worked so hard for.

After about fifteen minutes of relaxing and nearly falling asleep, Harry figured that he should make himself something to eat and unpack. He wanted to get back into the swing of everyday life and hoped that the paparazzi didn't pay much mind to him. The first thing that he did when he walked into the living room area was open the blinds to let the natural light in. He went into the kitchen and turned on the lights and put his phone onto his dock, deciding to make himself a nice meal and be happy while doing it.

Cooking was one of Harry's favorite things in the world. He didn't do it often since he was always busy with work or Kendall insisted that they go out somewhere, but when he would get a chance, he would experiment with different types of spices or try new recipes. If he made too much, he would deliver some to the sweet old woman that lived down the hall. His most famous dish to make was chicken cordon bleu with a side of his famous mashed potatoes topped with butter and bits of asparagus. His mum taught him the basics on how to make it, but ever since he polished his skills, he refused to eat hers because he had grown so accustomed to the way he had made it.

He was part way through getting everything out from the refrigerator when there was a knock on the door. Harry figured that it was most likely Kendall since she was one of the few people that knew he came back early. He wiped his hands on a hand towel and tossed it over his shoulder as he went to the door. But instead of it being Kendall, it was the landlord of the apartment building.

"Hello, Wade," Harry greeted, trying not to let the concern show in his voice. He didn't know why Wade was visiting him. He had made sure that his rent was paid early and that he wasn't too disturbing of a neighbor. "Would you like to come in? I was just making myself dinner. I could prepare another plate if you want."

"No, thank you though," Wade smiled, but then let it falter. "I just stopped by to let you know that there is a hoard of photographers crowding outside the door. I have Tucker on guard to make sure that none of the other residents let them inside."

Picture Perfect | Larry StylinsonWhere stories live. Discover now