Chapter Text
“Fuck,” Harry mutters under his breath as another yell crashes in from outside.
He checks the clock. 22:28. He rolls his eyes and clenches his fists. If those neighbors make another sound, he’s going to go out there. It’s late, and tomorrow is his daughter’s first day of primary school and his son’s first day of year 2. They need their rest.
He stretches on the couch and tries to control his breathing. It’s fine. He doesn’t need to get so stressed. What was that thing his mum showed him when he was a kid and he was angry? He thinks for a minute. Five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, one thing you can taste. Sounds easy enough.
He can see his telly playing the football game, the fireplace underneath it, the bookshelf in the corner filled with all the books he buys but never has time to read, the white and grey cat (that he didn’t want but is incredibly attached to) on the back of the couch he’s laying on, and the cabinet on the other side of the fireplace that's filled with romantic comedy DVDs that he didn’t buy but he puts on on cold nights when he’s feeling particularly lonely.
He can feel the soft couch beneath him and the cushions pressed in by his body weight, the sweat beading on his face and neck from cleaning the house and doing the washing a few minutes ago (before he laid down to relax for the night), the breeze from the fan blowing in his face in an attempt to cool himself down, and the pressure of the aforementioned cat having jumped down from the couch to curl up on his chest, nuzzling into Harry’s face.
He can hear the sound of the washing machine spinning the clothes he just put into it from the kitchen, the commentators describing the game (“England takes the ball from Italy and makes their way down the pitch. They’re going, going… OH! Italy intercepts it! England tries to catch up, but they’re too far behind! Italy kicks and… right into the goal! Is England even trying?”), and a bout of angry yelling timed exactly to the moment Italy made the goal making its way into the house.
That’s it, I’m going out there, he thinks as he makes no moves to walk out the door.
It’s not that he’s shy or anything. He just doesn’t want to speak up if he doesn’t have to. Especially not to them. Not again. Maybe that was the last yell and he won't have to do anything about it now.
He watches the game for a little while longer while hoping against hope that nothing interesting will happen. The opposing team moves towards their goal and Harry massages his temples psyching himself up for the storm of hellfire about to erupt from the house next door.
A new yell accompanied by a chorus of “fuck”s gets Harry moving. He opens his back door and marches to the fence.
“Hey! I’ve got two little kids sleeping in here. They have school tomorrow. Could you PLEASE keep it down??” Harry shouts.
He takes in the scene in front of him. There are three men scattered around the backyard but all facing a telly behind an open window. One of them has a golf club that he’s using to hit a golf ball around on the ground. The other two of them are lounging on an outdoor couch with lit cigarettes in their hands, one of the men with short powder blue hair shaved close to the scalp, and the other with long brown hair that’s curling around his shoulders.
They all snap their heads to look at him. The one with brown hair stands up and slowly walks to the fence resting his arms on it and getting in Harry’s face.
“Now, now, Harry, there’s no need to be rude. We were just having a good time,” he replies calmly and slowly. “You could join us if you want.”
Harry rolls his eyes. “Louis, don’t be fucking ridiculous. I have children that are asleep and I’m not leaving them alone for any longer than this. You and I don’t get along anyway. Why would I want to come over?”
“It was just an invite, Curly, no need to get hostile,” he smirks. “Sure, we’ll keep it down. Goodnight,” he finishes, blowing smoke into Harry’s face and turning away.
Harry coughs and turns around, seething. He balls his fists and walks back into his house, ignoring every urge to slam the door on his way in. He doesn’t want to bother his children any more than they already have been.
Fuck Louis. Fuck him for being loud and bothering his family. Fuck him and his stupid perfect lawn and stupid nice car and stupid house that’s bigger than his and stupid fucking face that he has to see every stupid fucking day.
He tiptoes up the stairs, opens the first door on the left (a huge dinosaur painted on it by Harry himself) and peeks into Finn’s room. He's asleep in his racecar bed with a lava lamp on his nightstand emitting a soft glow. His fish tank filter making a small bubbling noise and the fish are bouncing back and forth around the tank. Harry smiles as he sees his son’s dark curly hair, almost a rival to his own, sticking out of the blanket. His heart swells as the anger dissipates and is slowly replaced with unconditional love.
He closes the door softly and moves to the next one over, this one the color of the ocean (all of the blues and greens touched subtly with white as if the sun was lighting the waves) and covered with dragon and mermaid stickers, opening just as softly, but a small head pops up.
“Avery, baby, what are you doing awake?” Harry asks, voice light, walking in and sitting on the edge of her bed. “Was it the yelling?”
“No, I didn't hear any yelling. I- Daddy, I’m scared,” she says, green eyes wide, light brown hair shining from the Rapunzel night light next to the canopy bed.
“Aww, love, why are you scared?” he asks, sitting her in his lap to face her.
“I dunno. Just,” she sighs, “I’m scared because new people and you won’t be there.”
“Yeah, I understand. But don’t worry, everyone gets scared before their first day of everything. I was scared before my first day of work. It’s okay, though, I’ll be right across the street at the secondary school, and your brother will be on the bus with you,” he reassures.
He hates that they have to take the bus, but it’s either they take the bus or get to school so early that no one will be there.
Avery sighs. “I know. I just... I wish Mummy could take me to school like she took Finn to school so I didn’t have to take the big scary bus.”
Harry feels like he’s been punched in the gut. This isn't the first time they've had this conversation, but it hurts all the same. Tears prickle at his eyes. He bows his head and fills his lungs so he can get through what he needs to say.
“I know, baby. I’m sorry she’s not here anymore,” He raises his head again, looking Avery in the eyes, “but she would be so proud of you, and how-how big you’ve gotten, and how smart you are, and how kind you are. And I’m proud of you, too. You are so strong. And I know Mummy is looking over you always. And Finn, too.”
Harry pulls Avery into a hug and they both sniffle, letting the tears fall over their faces. They stay like that for a long while until their breathing is evened out and the sniffles are less frequent.
“Daddy?” Avery asks, still over his shoulder.
“Yes, lovey?”
“How long has it been without Mummy now?”
Harry sighs, checking his watch. 22:56. Not midnight yet. “330 days.”
Harry counts every single day. He knows it's not healthy. He knows he needs to let go. And he knows that she wanted him to do those things and find someone else. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to do those things. He is perfectly content with his life right now, minus the neighbors and the overwhelming sadness that rears its head sometimes.
He comes back to reality and sits Avery back down on his lap to face him. She yawns.
“Did the crying tire you out, love?
Avery smiles. “Yeah. I’m sleepy.”
Harry lays her down and tucks the blankets around her shoulders and kisses her cheek. “Don’t worry about it. Everything is going to be fine. I love you.”
“I love you too, Dad,” Avery whispers, closing her eyes and yawning again.
Harry gets up and moves toward the door, stepping out and closing it before heading to the bathroom. As soon as he walks in, his foot hits something and he trips, putting his hands out to break his fall, the cold tile inches from his face.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, getting up to switch on the light.
He looks down to see a stack of books on the floor.
“So that’s why he takes so long in the bathroom,” he says, rolling his eyes.
He makes eye contact with himself in the mirror. He sees what he usually does, short brown hair that curls around his ears, a white tank top with a floral shirt over it draping over his black jeans. He sees the circles under his eyes from working all day, then laying awake at night, missing her. Wishing she could come back to him, to his family. Thinking about watching her, laying there, comforting him when it should have been the other way around. Feeling the guilt that comes with it. He blinks back into the present. She wouldn’t want this. She wanted him to let her go.
His mind drifts to other things. His kids’ first day of school, the outfits he’s going to dress them in, the pictures he’s going to take of them in the front yard. He should have cut the grass earlier to make for a better picture. It’s getting long, and you can tell where his lawn ends and Louis’ begins…
Louis.
That bastard. He always cuts exactly where the property line ends just to be a dick. God forbid he help Harry out a little.
I’d like to see him take care of two kids and have a full-time job and then try to find time for yard work, Harry seethes.
And then to be a dick about being loud when he knows Finn and Avery were asleep. He knows. He’s met them before.
Harry shakes his head. He needs sleep immediately. He does a shortened version of his nighttime routine (face wash, exfoliant, and brushing his teeth, eliminating the face mask and moisturizer) and crawls into bed, feeling dead to the world.
He gets no respite, though, because his mind rushes with its usual nerves before a new school year, about both himself and his kids. He has a lot to prepare and his laundry list of things gets longer all the time. He should probably do something about that. His classroom is still bare and lifeless, but he’ll have to deal with that after school. He needs to go out and buy school supplies for his kids, and they haven't gotten the list of required items yet, and Harry doesn't want to buy a bunch of stuff they don’t need. A teacher’s salary doesn’t stretch very far so he has to be smart, but he wouldn't have it any other way. Teaching was their passion, and continues to be Harry’s passion.
**********
Harry wakes up to Start Me Up by the Rolling Stones blaring in his ears from the speaker by his bed. He smiles as he realizes that this is a pretty fitting song for shuffle to pick this morning. He flutters his bleary eyes open, opting to keep the playlist going while he gets ready. He may be completely fucking exhausted mentally but he slept hard and he’s in a good mood, last night’s nerves changing to excitement for the year ahead.
He makes his way to the bathroom again, his morning routine making up for the shortened nighttime one (shower, shave, wash face and exfoliate, brush teeth). He steps out of the shower, checking his phone for the weather. His weather app tells him the day will be a sunny 17 degrees, which is quite warm for a September day in England. That being said, he picks a button-down shirt (this one pink and polka-dotted) and a new pair of black jeans for the day ahead, adding a pair of Chelsea boots to the mix because he can and he will.
He steps out of his room to find Finn, arm up, about to knock on his bedroom door. He stops suddenly and puts his arm down, teal eyes glassy with unshed tears.
Harry immediately kneels down and opens his arms and Finn rushes into them. “I’m here,” he says, simply, letting Finn take the lead of the conversation.
Finn sniffs in. “I know. But-but Mum isn’t. This is my first first day of school without her. And she’s- she can’t take me and I have to take the bus because your s-school starts earlier than me and Avery’s school and she doesn’t work at my school anymore so she won’t be there if I need her. Or if Avery needs her. What if we need her?”
Harry gently takes his son’s shoulder and faces him so he can see his face. “It’s okay, love. You’re going to be fine, I promise. And I’ll be across the street at the secondary school. Everything is going to be fine.”
“But you don’t know that. We thought Mummy was fine and then she wasn’t. She was sick and we didn’t even know. So what if everything isn’t going to be fine?”
Harry sighs, pulling his son in for another hug and holding him tightly. “If you ever need me, or start to get anxious, or need to take a break for a while, tell Ms. Swift. I called her already and she knows everything that happened. And Ms. Musgraves knows, too, so Avery can go to her. I’ll keep my phone on me the whole day. I’m sure my students won’t mind. I’m sure they’ll be on their phones half the period anyway.”
Finn takes a deep breath and nods, a small smile starting to creep up on his little face. “Okay. Okay. Yeah. Yeah, we can do this.”
Harry smiles. “Of course you can. You and Avery are the toughest kids I’ve ever seen. Watch this!”
He fake punches Finn’s arm, making him smile wider. Finn winds up and punches back harder than he was punched, and Harry throws himself backward onto the floor.
“AHH, MAN DOWN, MAN DOWN!” Harry yells as overdramatically as he can.
They both giggle and Finn sticks his tiny hand out to help Harry back up and he makes a big show of trying to stand. When he finally does, Avery appears in the crack of her bedroom door.
“Excuse me, you guys are interrupting my beauty sleep!” she half yells, rolling her eyes and closing the door again.
“She sounds just like you,” Finn remarks.
Harry thinks back to last night and the smell of the smoke in his face. “You’re right, love, you’re right. Alright, let’s get to it. Time to get ready for school!”
The rest of the morning passes by in a blur of backpacks, cereal, and photos of his babies, plus the occasional tear or 100. Finn and Avery get to their bus stop just as it pulls up, in true Styles fashion, and they’re on their way to school with kisses and hugs, leaving Harry 30 minutes to get to work.
And, yet again, in true Styles fashion, he’s almost late. But when you think about it, it’s not his fault the line for Starbucks was wrapped around the store filled mostly with students that he’ll have to see throughout the day. At least they’ll have coffee in their systems.
***********
“Harry! Look at you!” a familiar voice calls from Harry’s classroom door after the lunch bell rings and the class empties out.
Harry feels a smile fill his face and he looks up from his desk to see his best friend walking into the empty room.
“Liam! How was your summer?” Harry asks, getting up to clap him on the back after a quick embrace.
“Busy, busy, as usual. I’m sorry I couldn't come over that often. Alyssa had football practice and Natalie broke her leg at dance, and it was just chaos all the fuckin’ time. It’s so good to see you, though,” Liam beams.
“You better get back into school mode. You can’t go swearing by the hallway with the door open,” Harry jokes. “Anyway, do you and Christine need me to help out with anything? I know she works a lot and I don't want Natalie to be alone.”
“Nah, we’re all good, thank you for asking, though. But if you need anything, you can always call us, too.”
“God, I missed you!” Harry yells, pulling Liam into a hug.
A few students turn and look at the bromance happening through the doorway and laugh. They’re all used to Mr. Styles’ and Mr. Payne’s chaos at this point. It’s been a year since Harry transferred here. He was hesitant to start at a new school while his wife was bedridden, but because she couldn’t be there, they needed someone to take over her job, and who better to take over Mrs. Styles on such short notice than Mr. Styles? Plus, she insisted he do it, highlighting Liam as one of the most important reasons why he should. Liam was always her favorite teacher before he transferred to the secondary school. She loved him and Harry does, too.
“I missed you, too. I’ve decided that I’m not even going to wait for an invitation anymore. I’m just gonna start showing up at your house and you’re just going to have to deal with it,” Liam giggles. Literally giggles.
Harry rolls his eyes, pulling away from the embrace. “God, how dare you make me deal with your golden retriever arse more than just at work.”
“You love me,” Liam says, practically blinding Harry with his smile.
“Unfortunately,” Harry laughs. “Now, the most important part of the day. Tea time!”
Tea time for Liam and Harry means two things: first, actual tea from an electric kettle they bought for this purpose, and second, and most importantly, drama.
They settle in, Liam pulling up a chair to straddle while resting his arms on the back of it, and Harry gets water from a bottle he brought in heating up. Liam chooses English breakfast from the stack of tea boxes under Harry’s desk, and Harry goes for Earl grey.
“Alright, Liam, have I got a story for you,” Harry begins.
“Oh, god. You better hurry, we only have a half-hour left before the kids come back from lunch,” Liam teases.
“Alright, alright, shut up and listen. So you know that neighbor I hate?”
Liam listens with rapt attention as Harry recounts the details of the previous night, waiting for Harry to be completely done before he speaks.
“Why is he always like this? You’d think he would learn from the last time-” Liam starts.
Harry interrupts him. “Don’t mention the last time, Liam, please. I try not to think about it.”
“I know, but it happened. And maybe you two should talk about it because I don't think you were on the same page that night and-”
“Liam. Please. Let me pretend to forget that night,” Harry begs.
“Alright,” Liam concedes. “but I still think this route you’re taking is way more complicated.”
“I know, I know, but I can’t think about that right now. It was a low point and it won’t happen again.”
“Okay.” Liam sounds unconvinced.
“I can’t believe he was such a dick about being quiet last night,” Harry scoffs. “He doesn't know what it’s like to raise kids on his own.”
“Yeah, what a dick, honestly. He should have just said okay. It’s not like you were being a dick to him just to be a dick to him. Your kids were trying to sleep.”
“I know. He’s lucky they didn’t hear him. God, if I had money to move somewhere else, I would,” Harry says, rolling his eyes and leaning back in his chair, sipping the tea that got cold because he was too busy talking to drink it.
“Aw, Harry, you can’t leave me. Please don’t leave me to be the only other English teacher here,” Liam says, clasping his hands together in mock begging.
Harry smiles. “Oh, please, I’m just kidding. I wouldn't leave you for the world.”
He takes the light moment to check his phone again, seeing if either of his kids’ teachers tried to contact him. The notification box is empty. Thank god. So far, so good.
***********
“DADDY!” Harry hears as a flash of Avery comes sprinting at him out the back door of the classroom, crashing into him with full force.
“Hi, baby! How was your first day?” Harry asks, all smiles.
“SOOOO MUCH FUN!” Avery says, pulling away so she can talk to her father. “Ms. Musgraves told us all the rules of the classroom and then she let us paint and then we went outside and then we had snack, it was apples and something else. She said it was like peanut butter, but we can’t have peanut butter in the classroom because Miles is allergic. It kinda wasn't as good as peanut butter but I didn't tell Miles that because I didn't want him to feel bad because he couldn't have real peanut butter. And then we went outside and played this game where you kick a ball kinda like what you watch on telly sometimes. Except less rules, just kicking a ball around. It was great! Ms. Musgraves is so nice and she told me if I needed to take a break, I could tell her, but I didn’t wanna take a break because there was so much fun stuff to do today. And I like all the kids in the class. They were nice to me,” Avery says, rushing every word out of her mouth like she’s trying to get it all out before she forgets it.
“I’m so, so glad you had an amazing day today! I knew you could do it! I told you, toughest kid on the planet, other than Finn.”
“Oh, please, I’m way tougher than Finn,” she says, holding a hand up dramatically.
“Oh, right. How could I forget?” Harry chuckles.
At that moment, Avery’s teacher leans against the doorframe.
“Hey, Avery, I bet you can't run to the end of the field, climb the monkey bars, and slide down the slide in under two minutes,” Harry challenges.
Avery’s eyes go wide. “Of course I can!” she says, running off with no hesitation.
Harry looks up at his daughter’s teacher. “Ms. Musgraves, how was she today?”
“Oh, you can call me Kacey,” she smiles at Harry. “She did really well today. She’s very social and her vocabulary is incredible for her age.”
“Her mother and I are both, uh were both, uh, she was and I still am, uh, English teachers,” Harry stumbles, trying to sidestep the pain he accidentally set himself up for. He forces a smile. “We started reading her Harry Potter since she could comprehend what we were saying to her. She reads everything she can. I’m afraid she’s already rivaling me in the language department,” he laughs, and this time his positive emotions are genuine.
Kacey laughs. “I can tell how smart she is already. I’m excited to have her in my class. And I know you know this, but please don’t be afraid to call if you need anything. I want to support her and your family in the best way that I can. It can’t be easy to lose a parent, and anything I can do to make the school transition easier, I’ll do.”
“Thank you so much. I’ll remember that,” Harry says gratefully, feeling a slight weight lift from his shoulders. “I have to go get my son from Ms. Swift. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Harry turns his head to see Avery making her way back to him. “Come on, Avery! You’re almost there!”
Avery sprints the final stretch, high fiving her father’s outstretched hand.
“Good job!” Harry praises.
“I told you I could do it, Daddy. Toughest girl in the world, remember?” she says as if it should be obvious.
Harry facepalms. “Oh my gosh, you’re right. How could I have forgotten? Sorry, Avery. I’ll never, ever doubt you again.”
Avery seems satisfied and crosses her arms, nodding. “Good.”
“See you guys tomorrow. And call her Taylor!” Kacey calls after them.
Harry smiles. It’s a relief, that’s the only way he knows how to describe it. It’s one less thing he needs to worry about.
When Harry gets to the outside entrance to Taylor’s room around the corner, the energy is immediately different. Fuck. Drop the weight back on. He sees Taylor sitting with Finn on the step outside the classroom. There’s another teacher in the room with the other kids that are waiting to be picked up, probably so they aren’t left alone.
Finn is sitting curled up with his head in his knees, breathing heavily as Taylor rubs his back. She looks up when she notices Harry and Avery walking towards them.
“Hi, Mr. Styles,” she says simply.
“You can call me Harry. Did he have an anxiety attack?” Harry asks, knowing the answer but dreading it all the same.
“Yeah. He was okay throughout most of the day, and then one of the kids got picked up by their mother, and his eyes went wide and he told me he needed to leave the room for a minute, so I called another teacher and now we’re getting some fresh air.” She tilts her head down to the boy who poked his head up when he realized he was being talked about. “You handled that so maturely, Finn. I’m proud of you.”
“She’s right, bud. I’m glad your therapist is helping,” Harry said, kneeling and running his fingers through his son’s hair.
Finn has visibly calmed down since Harry started talking to Taylor. He sniffles through his tear-stained nose and wipes his eyes with his hands, looking up at his father.
“Yeah. This one wasn’t as bad as the other ones,” he said. “Can we go home now, please?”
Harry picks him up. “Of course, love. Let’s go get ice cream, I think we all deserve it.”
“ICE CREAM!” Avery screams. “Well, what are we waiting for?? Let’s go!”
Taylor laughs. “Have fun, Finn. I’ll see you tomorrow. And Harry, don’t hesitate to contact me if you need anything.”
Harry smiles at the duplicate conversation of the one earlier. “I will, I promise. Thank you for being so kind and helping him through the anxiety attack.”
“Of course. He’s not the first, and he won’t be the last,” Taylor says with a resolution that shows that she’s used to it, but not tired of it. “Have a good day, guys.”
“Thank you, you too!” says Finn, giving her a hug before moving toward his father.
***********
Later that night, Harry lays in his bed staring at the ceiling. He needed to rant to someone about yesterday, and half of him feels better after doing it, but the other half of him is frustrated. He didn't need to be reminded of that night last April. He didn’t.
He rolls over and pushes the thought from his mind. It doesn’t matter anyway. Everything is going to be fine. He checks his watch and closes his eyes.
00:01.
332 days.