The nausea in Wednesday's stomach was present from the moment she woke up and remained there, swirling around and fuelling her anxiety, as she went for a run. Not even the shower after or the bit of spring cleaning she did around the house made it go away. There wasn't a chance of her eating anything—she was sure if she tried, it would regurgitate in a matter of minutes.

She'd arrived home from St. Lucia two days before, unwillingly saying goodbye to Zara as they parted ways at the airport, and ever since then she'd been building up the courage to see Harry. He'd messaged her the day she came back, asking how it was and if she'd enjoyed herself. She'd pre-emptively shut down any sort of ideas of him coming over by stating that she'd be sleeping for pretty much the next day, trying to work off some of the jet lag.

And so far, it had worked. He hadn't come over once, preserving the last shreds of dignity she had remaining.

But she knew that sooner or later, she'd have to see him. Talk to him. Be truthful. And so, adopting Zara's strategy of 'ripping the band aid off', she'd texted him the night before and asked if she could come over the following day. He'd replied instantly, telling her that he'd like that and so they'd planned for her to come around at about 2 when he'd be done with promo stuff.

And now she was sat at her kitchen counter, nervously picking at her fingers, watching the hands on the clock tick past half 1. She knew she had to set off soon. But the sheer anxiety coursing through her body, alerting her to the potential danger of the situation, was doing everything in its power to deter her from actually going. Closing her eyes, she tried to breathe through it. She'd already had anxiety tablets and placed more drops of CBD oil on her tongue than was definitely recommended. Anything more and she'd certainly end up on the floor.

Her phone buzzed on the table, and she gnawed her inner cheek, sore from all the biting she'd been doing since she got back. Picking it up shakily, she looked to the text, swallowing as she realised it was from Harry.

Oh god. This was it. She pushed herself from the stool, almost feeling her heart beat behind her eyes it was that strong.

She shakily grabbed her keys from the counter and walked down the hallway. She stopped in front of the mirror on the wall, giving her appearance one last look over. She'd already spent more time than she cared to admit agonising over what outfit to choose and the appropriate level of makeup to wear. In the end, she'd opted for something that represented her current mood; an all-black outfit consisting of a high neck top, faded black mom jeans, black oversized puffer jacket and a black beanie. The only pop of colour was in her choice of trainers—pink high-top converse. Something to brighten the otherwise dreary atmosphere.

Opening the front door, Wednesday stepped out into the mild air. Spring was well on its way now—the cherry blossom trees down the street had begun to bloom.

Setting off slowly, she debated whether to get the tube or walk. Harry only lived a fifteen-minute walk away. But she knew that with zero distractions of the underground or people around her, she'd get too lost in her own mind. Quickly, she decided the tube was her best bet. Rounding the entrance to it a few minutes later, she walked down the steps, hands shoved deep into her pockets.

She felt like she was walking to her death. Was this how people in medieval times felt? Being led to the gallows? It felt awfully similar. After all, her fate was about to be sealed too. By the end of the day, everything would be different in one way or another. There was no coming back from it.

As the train approached the platform a few minutes later, she boarded and stood near the other side. Usually, she liked to watch people. This time, she was too nervous to even read the tube map opposite. She counted down each stop as it approached.

3 more to go. 2 more to go. 1.

Until, with a curling feeling in her stomach, the stop that she recognised as hers to get off at came into view.

The doors opened and she stepped out, following the few people who'd chosen the same stop.

It was like her nerves were doing everything in their power to hold her back. She could feel her hands shaking, the swimming of her stomach. God, why hadn't she done a shot of vodka before coming? Or two or three. Something to take the edge off.

It wasn't just the fact that she was on her way to Harry's to tell him the truth about the extent of how she felt towards him. It was that she also hadn't seen him since she'd made that discovery. She didn't know how she'd react to him stood right in front of her, how she'd feel. Would she want to fling herself at him then and there? Or would she melt into a puddle on the floor?

Worse than that, what if she realised she couldn't do it. Couldn't ruin their friendship by telling him how she felt.

As she exited the station, knowing his house was only 5 minutes away, the sheer panic kicked in. She considered running back to the station and messaging him something about a sudden tummy bug. But her legs carried her faster than she'd been prepared and as she rounded a familiar street corner, she saw the entrance to the gated house. Swallowing, she walked gingerly towards it, feeling she was meeting her doom.

The black gates came into view and she rummaged through her canvas bag for the keys she had to the side gate entrance. Trembling, she found them quicker than she wanted to. Holding them up and letting the scanner work, the gate unlocked, and she pushed it open, making sure it locked after her.

The gravel under her feet crunched louder with every step towards the house she took, or at least it felt like it.

"Breathe, breathe," she mumbled to herself under her breath, feeling like she might throw up at any moment now as the house got closer and closer.

Approaching the large front door, there was nothing left now to do except go in.

She breathed deeply for a few seconds, bringing her hand up to the wall to get as much oxygen into her lungs as was possible before going in.

Just as she was ready to enter, reaching out her hand for the door handle, it inwardly swung open.

And there, stood in jeans and a tee, was Harry. Smiling excitedly down at her in a way that made his dimples appear and her head feel faint.

"Hello stranger," he grinned, stepping aside to let her in.

She did, timidly, forcing a smile to appear as normal as possible.

"It's only been two weeks," she replied, laughing uneasily.

"I know, but it feels like longer." He shut the door, turning round to her and raising an eyebrow. "So, am I allowed a hug considering how much I missed you, or is it still too much to ask?"

Wednesday wanted to hug him. Desperately. To feel his arms wrapped around her. And the amount she wanted it—almost needed it—terrified her. But his smile was so hard to say no to, his hopeful expression melting her resolve.

A small smile came up onto her lips as she nodded, trying to drown out the internal screams from within her as he took a step forward, opening his arms. A second later, they were wrapping around her middle, pulling her closer to him. She tried to keep their bodies as separated as possible with her own arms wrapped around his neck, but it was hard when she wanted to give in so badly.

And then it hit her. His smell. A mix of aftershave and his own vanilla-ery musk. It figuratively and literally made her weak, her legs turning to jelly below her. She'd never wanted to capture a scent and turn it into a candle for own entertainment so badly before. If she could, she'd make everything she owned smell like him.

"I know you don't like hugs," he laughed lightly into her ear, sending tingles down her spine. "But you're hugging me like I've got the plague and you don't want to catch it."

She breathed out a laugh, knowing how awkward it felt. A second later, she pulled away, untangling their bodies.

Rubbing her nose that had turned red from the cold outside, her mind worked furiously to think of something to say. Something light and breezy. But she couldn't think of anything. Not one topic. Absolutely typical that the girl who always had something to say, now had absolutely nothing when she needed it the most.

"How was work?" was the best she could come up with and she wanted to kick herself as the words tumbled out, sounding utterly non-breezy.

Harry walked ahead, thankfully not noticing her awkward demeanour.

"It was alright yeah. Nothing much really happened though."

As they walked into the large kitchen that adjoined to a seating area, Wednesday followed him cautiously, keeping a safe distance at all times. It didn't stop her eyes from landing on his broad back though, the only thing separating it fully from her view being the thin cotton t-shirt. She could see the muscles working underneath, swallowing as she felt a rush of butterflies in her stomach and another feeling somewhere more southern.

"Anyway, I want to hear about the holiday, how was it? What did you do?" Harry said, walking to kitchen counter and turning on the kettle. "Drink?"

Wednesday nodded. "Tea, please. And, uh, nothing really happened to be fair. Just sunbathed, swam a lot and drank enough alcohol to knock out a small army."

Harry smiled. "I bet it was nice going away with Zara again. Proper girls' trip."

"Yeah," Wednesday replied, breathing out a shaky laugh. "We talked a lot and got up to speed on much pretty much everything happening in our lives. We, um...we went skinny dipping on our last night."

Harry looked up instantly, his eyebrow raised as an impressed smile grew on his face. "You went skinny dipping?"

She didn't know why she'd told him that. Heat was already rushing to her cheeks; she could feel it. God, this was awful.

"Yeah. I mean, we were drunk, and it was on a closed beach, so we probably shouldn't have done it. But it was fun. I haven't skinny dipped since the 1D days."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed as he prepared the mugs. "I didn't know you'd gone skinny dipping back then?"

"Yeah, I did it a...a few times. Usually with Niall or Lou or someone."

Looking back to the mugs, Harry nodded as he bit his lip tightly. "Oh."

Silence fell between them and it felt thick—or at least, it did to Wednesday. Maybe because she knew something he didn't. She felt suffocated under the puffer jacket and the bright lights.

Why couldn't she try and act normal?

"Sorry, by the way," she said, awkwardly loitering between the sofas and the kitchen.

Harry looked up with a confused expression. "What for?"

"For not really having time to speak to you these past few weeks," Wednesday explained. Harry instantly understood, forcing a smile that was lined with something that looked an awful lot like sadness. "I, um...my last therapy session was kind of hard and made me realise...some things. And I just needed some space."

Hard? Realise some things? It was the understatement of the year. It felt weird, to tell him about a revelation that directly involved him without him even knowing it.

"It's fine. I actually—I thought that maybe I'd done something to upset you, so I wanted to give you space."

"No, no, you didn't do anything wrong," Wednesday said quickly, shaking her head.

Well. Apart from keep an iron grip on her heart to the point that she'd been living a lie for who knows how long.

Harry nodded. "I'm sorry therapy has been hard. I know it...it takes a lot out of you, to keep going."

She swallowed nervously. This conversation was almost funny to her, it was so ironic. If only he knew.

"Yeah, I guess."

She cleared her throat, rubbing her clammy hands on her jeans when he wasn't looking. She had no semblance of a plan, no option in which telling him was easier. Did she just come right out and say it now? Take the opportunity of his back being turned? Or did she wait right until the last second and tell him when she already had one foot out of the door, running as soon as the words had left her mouth in order to not deal with the aftermath?

"Did you take any photos whilst you were there anyway? I saw Zara's Instagram photos, it looked beautiful," Harry said, turning with the steaming hot mugs of tea in his hand.

He passed one of them over to her and kept the other in his hands as he leant over the counter island.

"Oh, yeah. I took a few." She fished into her pocket, sweaty fingers finding the cool glass of her phone. "Actually, I—I took one specifically to show you."

She didn't dare look up to see his reaction to that. Instead, she scrolled through her phone, finding the picture she'd taken on the first night. When it popped up, she clicked on it and turned her phone to Harry.

He took the phone from her hand, making his skin brush against hers and leaving a trail of goosebumps on her arm. Looking down to the photo, he eyed it appreciatively, a small smile coming up onto his lips.

"The sunset," he observed, looking up at her.

"I thought you might want to see it," she said coyly, chewing on her cheek.

"It's beautiful," he said, eyes returning to the phone in his hand. "I like that you took it for me."

Shifting on her feet awkwardly, she forced a smile. Clearing her throat, she took a step forward. "If you keep swiping right, you'll see all of the photos I took."

He nodded, doing as she said. Meanwhile, she took the opportunity to remove her coat, sweating under the weight of the material and her nerves. She threw it onto the sofa, removing her beanie too and tussling her hair.

Turning back around, she noticed Harry smirking down at a photo, igniting her anxiety once more. There weren't any weird photos in there...were there? She began to panic, wondering if she'd somehow accidentally taken a stray nude or something. "What are you smiling at?"

Looking up, his smirk only deepened, and he turned the phone to Wednesday. She squinted her eyes, seeing a video of a very drunk Zara falling over a hammock and crashing back into the sea. Relief washed over her as she laughed at the memory.

"Yeah, we were pretty much plastered for the whole week."

"I can see."

He kept swiping and Wednesday kept watching him, observing the way his face changed with every new reaction. Every time he smiled deeply, his eyes crinkled, and it made her heart feel full. And then when he rubbed his nose to stop himself laughing, wiggling it after, she felt a rush of warmth spread throughout her entire body.

Wednesday noticed him stop swiping, bringing the phone closer to his face as he analysed whatever photo he'd landed on. She furrowed her brows, wondering what he'd found that was so interesting. His bottom lip caught between his teeth and he looked so utterly involved in the picture, he'd forgotten she was there.

"What are you looking at?" she asked.

"Oh," he said, looking up quickly and swiping onto the next photo, clearing his throat. "Nothing. It was just a random picture of the sea."

His neck suddenly looked flushed and she furrowed her brows. It wasn't warm in the room, far from it.

After a few more swipes, he handed the phone back to her and picked up his mug, walking round to the seating area opposite.

"I'm glad you had fun on holiday. It seems like it was amazing."

"Yeah, I definitely needed it," she replied, sitting down on the opposite sofa that he chose, putting as much distance between them as acceptably possible.

Harry began to speak, something about preparing for tour and getting everything in order, but Wednesday could only focus on the words she needed to say to him. The feelings she needed to express. Nodding along blindly, she zoned out as the rising levels of panic threatened to completely overrun her.

"Wednesday," he said loudly a few minutes later, knocking her from her daydream.

"Yeah?" she asked, bewildered.

"You'll come, won't you?"

She blinked, trying to understand what he was asking and failing to get any hint of it whatsoever.

"Sorry, I—I zoned out. What were you saying again?"

He furrowed his brows, sliding to the edge of his seat as he looked at her. With his green eyes burning into her, she felt like an ant under a magnifying glass.

"Are you okay? You seem a bit...faraway today."

She sat up straighter, attempting to seem as normal as possible.

"Sorry, yeah. Just the jetlag, I think. What were you asking?"

"I was just saying that you'll be coming to watch the shows when we eventually kick off tour, won't you?"

"Oh yeah, definitely. It'll be nice, to actually see you perform for once instead of watching you from behind. I'm gonna make sure I'm front row in pit for it."

He grinned, drinking his tea. "Can't wait. Though, if you're planning to flash me like the rest of the crowd do, maybe hold off until the end so I don't lose my focus?"

Wednesday's cheeks immediately went red, she could feel it. Laughing nervously, she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

And then realised what she'd done.

Fuck.

Zara was right. She did do that when she was nervous around him.

"I'll try not to. Only for you," she forced a smile.

There was a moment of silence where alarm bells suddenly went off in her head.

This was the perfect time to say it. To just lay everything out on the table. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't been practising this conversation in her head all week, sometimes reciting it in front of the mirror to see how it sounded.

Just tell him. Tell him how much you want to feel him and touch him and kiss him and be so entangled with him that you don't know where he ends, and you begin.

She decided against that, concerned at the levels of creepiness, opting to just start with the basics.

I have feelings for you.

Taking a deep breath and swallowing back her own anxiety, she opened her mouth.

"Harry, I—"

"Oh, I forgot I've got something to show you," he said, cutting her off.

She clamped her mouth shut, feeling herself deflate. The words had been on the edge of her tongue, ready to tumble out. Shifting where she sat, she forced a smile.

"What is it?"

He stood up with a grin, placing the mug down on the coffee table and rounding the sofas. Wednesday watched him go with furrowed brows, confused as to what he had to show her. When she could no longer hear his footsteps, she breathed out heavily, closing her eyes and throwing her head back.

"You almost had it you turnip," she whispered to herself angrily, hitting her head lightly against the back of the sofa a few times out of misery.

As she heard him coming back a minute later, she opened her eyes and sat up straight, regaining her composure. He practically bounced into the room, an excited grin on his face as whatever he had was held behind his back.

He rounded the sofas and sat back down, a bit closer to her this time. Lines had formed under his eyes, he was grinning so deeply.

"Close your eyes," he instructed.

She furrowed her brows. Was this something for her? Her heart began to beat heavily once more.

Doing as she was told, she sat and waited silently.

"So, you know how it's your birthday soon?" he asked.