Someone Like You (Harry Styles Fanfiction)

Rose and Harry used to be together. They were the couple who was inseparable... that is until they decided to go their separate ways.

"We'll find each other one day, and when we do, we'll go back to the way things were."

That was the promise Harry had made Rose before going on a world tour. That was five long years ago when they were both 18 years old. They're both 23 years old now and have gone on living their lives in their own ways.

Rose is still waiting for the day Harry will waltz back into her life, but she knows it won't happen, she's holding onto false hope. She works at a lousy job where she is forced to copy papers for a living and make coffee runs for the employees. She goes home after work to her cat, Crookshanks, and is by herself for 12 hours before repeating her day once more.

Harry, however, has long forgotten the promise he gave Rose. Harry has been married for a year to his wife, Mallory. Harry hasn't forgotten about Rose though. The rose flower running up his rig


14. Chapter 13

It was late that night when Harry heard soft snores escaping Rose's lips. Harry turned to face her and he ran his fingers through her soft hair as she slept. Her hands were pressed together and were underneath the side of her face. Her lips were slightly parted as Rose inhaled and exhaled slowly in the rhythm of her sleep.

Harry watched her intently never wanting to leave Rose's side in fear that he may never come by again and see her. In the back of his mind, he figured that Mallory may have started to notice him becoming more and more distant and spending time away from her. He wanted to just stay in this small flat where his beautiful Rose lived and never go back.

Harry glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearing eleven at night. He rolled himself out of the bed and stood up and bent over gathering his clothes which were strewn across the floor. He pulled on some clothing one piece at a time. He grabbed his cross necklace off of the bedside table and threw it over his neck and adjusted it.

He picked his shoes off the floor and held them in his hands. He walked on the toes of his feet and over to the door gently prying it open. He silently hoped it wouldn't creak as he pulled it open. He let out a sigh of relief and walked out of the room and into the dimly lit kitchen.

The kitchen lights were low and the moonlight seeped through the cracks of the blinds and illuminated the floor. Harry couldn't hear anything but the whirring of Rose's laptop from the kitchen table. He walked over to the counter and shuffled through Rose's papers looking for a piece of paper to write on.

As he shuffled through the papers, he saw some papers which looked aged what with the crinkles and the smudges of ink on the page. There was also stains from tea on the paper making the paper turn a colour of brown. Harry picked it up and walked over to stand directly underneath the dim light and his eyes scanned over the words.

"You never gave up, Rose," he said with a smile forming on his lips. His hand ran over the beautiful penmanship of Rose Arthur, or R.J. Arthur as he knows her. Her beautiful cursive handwriting always made him in awe of the dying art form.

He turned back to the counter and found a small notepad sitting directly behind a vase. He grabbed one and opened it flipping past the various pages of Rose's handwriting and found a blank page. He pulled it out slowly. He was cautious of waking Rose up and disrupting her sleep. He took a hold of one of the pens in the vase and leaned on the counter and began to write a note to Rose in his own writing. His writing, however, was exceedingly messy compared to Rose's.

My Beautiful Flower, 
I'm afraid I have to go back home. I know I came here because of a fight, but if we are to keep seeing each other as we are, I need to go back home and apologize. I don't need you to be known as a whore or anything. You mean so much to me, Rose, you're the most beautiful girl I've ever laid my eyes on. You're the only beautiful thing in my eyes, Flower. You're so beautiful.

I will be back as soon as I can. I will always come back for you, love; always. You're worth coming back to.

I love you, 
~H .xx

Harry picked it up and smiled examining it over and walked back to Rose's bedroom and placed it on the bedside table on top of her books. He paused to take a good look at Rose. She was his whole life and he knew that he would always take whatever it took to be at home with her. He felt most at home with Rose. With Mallory, he was a stranger in his own home putting up a façade and pretending that there was something there.

Harry brushed the few strands of hair our of her closed eyes. He bent over, his own eyes closed softly, and pressed his moist lips gently against her forehead in a soft, gentle kiss. His plump lips linger against her warm skin wanting to never part his lips from her pale skin. He heard Rose let out a soft hum as she shifted from underneath his hovering body. His lips were parted from her skin as she turned and he pursed them and watched her. She kicked the duvet so her bare feet were hanging out of them and letting the cool air hit her feet.

Harry turned on his ankles and walked out of the bedroom. He stopped at the doorway turning back at the girl in the bed. He leaned against the doorframe and rested his head against it. He wanted to stay here, but in the back of his mind, he knew there was another girl, his wife, waiting for him back in Holmes Chapel.

Harry left the room and went to the kitchen and picked his shoes off the counter and brushed the dirt they left off. He picked one leg up and slid his shoe on them never untying it. He repeated this action and picked up his keys from the table where his jacket was. He picked the jacket up and slid his arms through each arm and gave his hair a soft shake and left the house. He had a key to Rose's flat so he turned the handle making sure it was locked.

He made the infamous walk of "shame" to his car from Rose's flat. If this were five years ago, he would have ten to thirty photographers waiting outside the building blinding the whole area. However, five years after the break up of One Direction, there was no flashing. Just a dimly lit blacktop with a light above his car that flickered from dying. It was as if he didn't really exist in those girls' minds almost a decade ago. He was invisible and quite frankly, that was how he liked it.

Invisibility to Harry was something of the essence. It allowed him to have his personal life just that; personal. That was the part of being the famous "Harry Styles" he hated the most. He couldn't live his life the way he wanted to back then. He had to be careful about every single move he made. He was not to show any friendly affection towards Louis since fans honestly thought he was in love with him.

As Harry drove away from Rose's complex, he thought about the time he considers as the time of silence. In other words; his dark days. The pressure began building up so much, he felt himself in a state of depression. He only smiled when asked, only talked when in interviews, and only was awake when forced to be awake. He remembers going home one year for a period of time they had off, the year he met Rose, and was in the darkest days of his life.

Harry could recall the pent up feelings he had during those days. He felt as if he had to hold his breath on everything he every said since something he said could be twisted and turned into something else. He hated the feeling of having to hold back on something he believed in. He remembers Rose had changed all that.

He remembers the day he first met her, she was walking home from the library. Her messy curls were thrown up in a messy bun on top of her head and she had a book opened in front of her. She wasn't watching where she was going. Luckily Harry was, but he moved too slow her body rammed into him and she fell to the ground. Her books had spilled from her bag.

Harry recalls seeing those beautiful brown eyes for the first time and feeling those nerves erupt in his stomach. He didn't know what it was about Rose that made him feel that way, but he wanted that feeling to never leave him. He wanted to hold on to the strange feeling that was making his stomach twist in knots and made him nervous. His hands were shaking as he helped Rose gather her things and handed them to her. He remembers stuttering over his words.

Harry, currently sat in his car, was leaned up against the window with his elbow propped up against the cold window and his hand up near his lips. He watched the road mindlessly and the music was playing softly in the background.

"This is an old one for all of you out there, this is Songbird by Fleetwood Mac," the radio announcer said and the piano intro began in the beginning. Harry leaned over and turned the volume up on his stereo and let the song fill his ears.

He approached a stop light and he sat there at the light listening to the song. This song, to him, seemed to be the song that fit him and Rose. He could hear themselves in the song because he was so in love with her and he thought of his swallows as their songbirds. He couldn't wait to be hers forever and always.

He pulled into the driveway of his home and turned the car off and was sitting in silence as he collected his things from the seat next to him. He looked at the house and saw a light on in the living room. He sighed and opened the door and climbed out of the car. He pressed down on the lock inside of the car and heard the locks all make a click noise indicated the car was locked. He looked back at his home and realized that he honestly didn't want to go inside. All Harry wanted to do was get in his car and drive back to Manchester.

Harry walked to the front door of the house and pulled out his keys and unlocked the door. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. He could hear the television making noises from the living room. He frowned and closed the door locking the house up. He walked into the living room and found Mallory asleep on the sofa.

She was in an upright position with her legs bent up, her feet flat against the cushions, and her head resting against the back of the sofa. She had a large blanket draped over her body and she had soft snores escaping her lips. Harry let out a soft chuckle and grabbed the remote and turned the TV off.

"Mallory," he whispered softly pulling the blanket off of her lap. She didn't stir, so Harry instead opted to carry her to bed. He lifted her up bridal style and she curled her arms up and buried her head in Harry's chest.

Harry glanced down at the woman he married and found himself wishing he didn't have to hurt her to be happy. He wanted to find a way he could be with Rose without having to hurt anyone else, especially Mallory. Mallory hadn't done anything to him, she's only ever been the wife any man would want; loyal. Harry admitted that he was rather guilty that he was cheating on her, but he could only see himself with one woman in the world and that was Rose.

He carried her up the stairs and walked in their bedroom and placed her on the bed. He lifted her body up gently and pulled the covers out from under her and pulled them over her body. She curled into the blankets and turned on her side.

Harry went to the dresser and pulled out a pair of boxers and walked to the bathroom. He turned the faucet on warm and let the water run. He kicked his shoes off his feet and peeled his socks off. He lifted his shirt up over his body and pulled his trousers and pants off. He bent over and picked up his clothes and threw them in the washing basket.

Harry reached into the shower and felt the water's warm beads hit his hand. He stepped into the tub and let the warm water engulf him. He tilted his head back letting the water run over his locks of hair making each strand cling to the side of his face. He stared up at the ceiling and let himself think. He ran his hands through his wet hair and let out a heavy sigh.

His eyes trailing to his tattoo and looked at it. He couldn't imagine his life without Rose. He lived that life once and he didn't intend on living that life anymore. He knew he had to give those papers to Mallory, but just couldn't bring himself to do anything so hurtful and selfish to someone. She really was a nice wife, but he just had no romantic feeling for her. She filled that void for Rose while Rose and him were separated, but now that Rose is back in his life, Mallory has no importance in his life. She is just there and is causing him unneeded stress.

Harry stepped out of the shower and took a hold of a towel and began to towel dry his hair. He dried the water off of his body and set the towel down on the toilet. He picked his boxers off the sink and stepped into them pulling them up around his waist. As he stood back up, he noticed something sitting on the counter. He grabbed it and noticed it was his wedding band that had been thrown at the wall. He saw there was a dent in it, but he slid it on his hand.

The ring felt like a heavy burden he had to carry around. It's as if he was literally carrying around a lie that didn't need to be there. He could snip it in the bud, but yet he still wore the silver ring. It seemed to weigh down his hand and he despised the feeling it gave him. It was as if this one little ring was the only thing that kept him tied to Mallory.

He stepped out of the bathroom and saw the light on in the bedroom and he looked at the bed and saw Mallory sitting up against the headboard. Her arms were crossed and her legs were on top of the duvet and her ankles crossed together. Harry saw that she was giving him a stern, hard look and it honestly frightened him. It made him think that she knew. His heart beat quickened and his palms began to sweat.

"Where were you?" was the only words that escaped her mouth.


"Answer me, goddammit I want an answer! You were gone for two days, Harry!" she said and pinched the bridge of her nose closing her eyes. Harry stared at her and his mouth was parted unsure of what to say. His mind was racing with various thoughts not knowing what exactly to say.

"I was with a friend," Harry says slowly as if he was making himself believe that statement even though he knew it was completely untrue. Mallory let out a scoff and shook her head.

"You weren't with a friend, you were prob-" she started, but stopped herself. Harry stared at her wondering what she was about to say. "I know you wouldn't ever do that kind of stuff, so I shouldn't worry, right?"

"I was with one of my old friends who lives in Manchester. He owns a pub and let me stay in the apartment above it for a few nights," Harry said walking over to Mallory and sitting on the edge of the bed. She stared at him seeing if he was really telling the truth. She found no evidence of lying in his eyes so she gave him a weak smile.

Something was unsettling about the whole situation. Mallory felt that there was something off about Harry in these past few months. She knew there was something going on, but she figured if something was wrong, he would confront her about it. She knew she would eventually find out, but would live in caution.

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