Roses for Roselyn (Niall and Harry Fanfictions)

She was just an ordinary, grounded girl with a young, obsessive sister... little did she know that her sister's biggest idol was obsessing over her. Join Rosie and Rachel on their journey in love, friendship, obsession, fame and passion. What will happen? Who will happen? And most importantly, how will they cope with the disadvantages of 'the good life'?


134. Reading


I wake up in the morning to the smell of bacon and frying eggs. My eyes can only drift around the bright white room a few times before they close again as I remember where I am and relax. I’ve only just fallen back asleep when someone hammers on the white door, prematurely waking me up from my dozy state, and bursts in to dive onto the bed. I let out a scream when I find a head of brown curls to my right, with his full body weight resting parallel on mine, and he instantly rolls over with one of those cheeky, young grins on his face.

“Good morning to you too.” I groan.

“Harry!” I notice that Gemma is standing in the doorway, a hand plastered over her face in shock as she tries her hardest not to giggle. I love the pastel colours that emphasise the tips of her platinum blonde hair; baby pink, purple and baby blue. She has long flicks of eyeliner on each eye and her pale skin is made even paler by the black t-shirt that she is wearing under a pair of light-blue, denim, dungarees shorts. “Where are your manners?”

“What manners?” I laugh and Harry pats the bed next to him for Gemma to come and join us. She sits timidly on the bed when I notice a tray that she was holding inconspicuously behind her back.

“Sorry for your rude awakening,” she glares at her little brother “but we do come in peace. Breakfast in bed?”

“That’s great.” She lays the tray down in between the three of us and I notice that there are three plates and glasses of orange juice set on the laminated wood of the tray.

“It’s lovely to meet you.” I start shyly, offering my hand towards her, but Gemma must not have noticed because before I know it she has her arms wrapped around me and is embracing my shoulders.

“Yeah, sorry it had to be like this, but who can’t resist a bacon roll, right?”

Harry picks one off the tray and bites right into the centre. “Especially one of mum’s.” He mumbles through buttered bread, ketchup and pork.

“We didn’t want them to get cold before you woke up. So how did you sleep.”

“Great, really well in fact…” What should I say? “What about you?” I ask the two of them politely.

“You’ve gone all shy and polite!” Harry points out and laughs at me with a wink.

“Just because she has manners H!”

“Fair point.” Harry looks back down at my plate and glass which I haven’t yet touched. “Come on, hurry up. Mum wants to say hello.”


Anne smiles up at me from where she stands by the open back door. A cold breeze brushes into the kitchen but I grin and bear it as I step nearer. "You must be Rachel! Oh it's lovely to see you."

"Yep, you too!"

She goes in for a hug, similar to the way that Gemma did, and I embrace her snugly. She's very cuddly and has one of those embraces that only soft, gentle mothers can give.

"So..." She takes in my appearance lightly, but I don't feel self-conscious under her gaze, even without makeup. "You're the one looking after my boy down in London."

"I really think it's the other way round." I laugh, remembering the night out that we went on -the one where I was a burden to Harry and he ended up looking after me at his flat the next morning. "See, I live in south London, so Harry's actually the one who's been introducing me to the city life."

"Don't say that," he chuckles, building another bacon sandwich on the kitchen side. "You're making me sound like a bad influence."

"You are a bad influence Harry." She turns back to me. "So go on, tell me all about him. Does he look after you well, keep you away from all the screaming fans?"

We lock eyes across the kitchen and I can see him trying to second guess what I'm about to tell his mummy. "Hmm... That not so much, but he's good at driving!"


"Yeah, he had to take a few turns away from paparazzi on bikes yesterday. He's also very good at buying ice cream and paracetamol when I have headaches after a night out."

"Interesting. You're making him seem so responsible." We all know that Harry if definitely not the responsible one in their group.

"He has his moments." I laugh and  everybody joins in, including Robin who must have heard the last part of our conversation as he brings firewood in from the garden shed; just enough to put into the empty wood burner fire that sits in the cosy lounge.


It's Christmas Eve, one of the most beautiful evenings of the year. We're all sitting in the Styles and Twist's family lounge, eating peanuts, oranges and demolishing a whole wooden board, piled with cheeses, grapes and apples. We finished dinner about 2 hours ago and now I'm chatting to Gemma about her University years –something I’ve been debating for the past years. Should I go to Uni or not? What would I even study?

“I wouldn’t worry.” Gemma reassures me. “Lots of my friends weren’t sure on what they wanted to study right up until the very last minute. Some Universities aren’t as flexible but if there’s one you want to go to with a few spare places… well, they can be a bit more compliant.” I take her good advice and don’t rule the opportunity out –by the sounds of it, Gemma had a good time at Uni and made most of her close friends there.

“Well it’s an option.” I agree.

“Just out of interest,” she smiles, “What do you think you'd want to study?"

"I literally have no idea." It's the truth -i don't. 

"And what would you do if you don’t go to University?”

“Well… I’ve had a few ideas over the years –something in the entertainment business. I’m not exactly sure, so don’t quote me, but maybe being a part of someone’s backstage team, management or even a makeup artist."

"Like Lou." Gemma mumbles to Harry with a surprised smile. It takes me a few seconds to realise that she's not talking about Louis, but the boys' stylist Lou. Well that would make sense.

"I don’t know,” I duck my head and let my hair fall forward “They’re all just ideas at the moment and it’s quite embarrassing. Just a little girl's dream. I'm sure I'll decide it's silly at some point and decide to take on a proper career -like a nurse or lawyer.”

“‘Proper careers’ are boring though.” Robin winks from across the room.

“No, its not silly.” Harry contradicts me. "Singing was just a dream for me too. Maybe it didn't pan out how I was expecting -I certainly wasn't expecting it this way, or having four other boys around me -but it's turned out to be the best dream I ever had." Harry turns to his mum. "And it would never have happened if you hadn't pushed that lanky curly haired boy along to the Xfactor audition."

Anne grins with all of her perfect teeth and squeezes her sons shoulder.

"Remember that scarf he wore?" Gemma teases and all of them laugh as Harry blushes and runs a hand through his hair, meeting my eyes in embarrassment. 

I lean back against the armchair that I'm sitting in by the fire and take in the picture of the happily smiling family. They may not be the 'perfect and ideal family'. Of course not -Anne remarried and Robin is only their step father -but that's what makes it so beautiful. They're so 'impractically' perfect and their bonds -even with their stepfather- proves that families don't have to be other people's idea of 'perfect' to be happy.

"I can't say I'm impressed with the new way he's invented of wearing his scarves though." Anne is absently teasing Harry's new trend of bandanas. I must admit I like it when he ties his hair back with them. It always looks so effortless and charming.

"I like his Bandanas Anne! I think he's brought them back into fashion -like the good old days where all the bands would wear them!" Anne pulls a face but reaches over to Harry, who lounges on the sofa beside her, and pulls him towards her to run her hands through his famous hair. We all giggle as he protests and tries to get his mum to stop, but Gemma teams up against her little brother with her mum and sits on top of him to keep him stationary.

He looks anything but impressed and after a few seconds they decide to let go of him -giving him the opportunity to jump straight up and cross over the room to grab my hand. "Come on, we're going."

They all laugh at Harry's mock arrogance and I have to giggle a few times before exercising a straight face under his stare.

At once I'm pulled along towards the stairs and I’ve only just called goodnight to everybody before Anne calls back. "Don't forget matching pyjamas! See you in the morning."

When we reach the top of the stairs I raise my eyebrows at the twenty year old boy that stands opposite me. "What?"

"Nothing." I smirk. "I'm gonna go put my pyjamas on."

"Okay, you know the drill."

Once I've changed into the well-fitting red and white pyjamas, I cross the hallway towards Harry's room and enter without knocking. He smiles up at me from where he's lying on the bed, with his hands folded on the soft white cotton of his t-shirt over his slightly protruding tummy.

We’ve spent every moment without his family -either after lunch, dinner or breakfast- in Harry’s room, just talking and hanging out. Either reading books or on our laptops as we talk –last night Harry even got his old, beaten-up guitar out and showed me what Niall’s been teaching him since they started their lessons.

I jump onto the beanbag by the bed, folding my legs under me and leaning onto the mattress of his bed on my elbows. "Someone's getting a stomach." I laugh and poke him teasingly.

"Is everyone trying to tease me today? And I know... I've eaten way too much."

"If you've eaten this much today, then how much will you eat tomorrow?"

"Ummm..." Harry thinks for a few seconds. "Even more?"

I shake my head gently in disbelief. "Has Louis had a good birthday?"

"Yeah, I got a message from him earlier."

"What did he say?"

"That they're having a really good time at his mums house, and that they had a nice lunch out this afternoon, but he's had to spend this whole evening wrapping presents with Eleanor." 

"I thought they'd done all their presents?"

"They have, but Jo his mum hasn't and she's been really stressed lately -you know she's having twins?"

"No," I never knew that! "Let's hope at least one of them is a bouncing little boy, huh?"

"That's what Louis' been saying." Having three sisters must be pretty hard when you have no little brothers to pass your football abilities onto.

"Aw, that's cute. You've heard about Rosie's brother by the way?"

"No? Tell me."

"Him and his girlfriend, you remember Carla?" Harry nods in brief remembrance. "Well anyway. They're having a baby. It's a surprise pregnancy because she's actually 6 months... already."

"Wow... So Rosie and Niall are going to have a niece or another nephew?"

"Mhmm. In March. Did I tell you she messaged me earlier? Her little cousins, auntie and uncle are staying the night, and so is Carla’s mum, so Rosie said things are pretty crazy at hers." I find the photo on my phone that Carla posted on Instagram yesterday. It’s the first scan that she got; apparently she got it when she found out she was pregnant at the doctors. “Here.” I hold my phone out for him to see but he regards it with apprehension. “What?”

His eyes meet mine as he starts to chuckle. “I can never understand those things –I don’t know what I’m looking at.”

“Me neither, but hey.” I’m about to take my phone back when Harry catches my wrist, as if he’s just spotted something.

“What?” I turn the screen towards me but there’s nothing different about the picture that I can notice. “What Harry?” It’s in that moment that I realise he never took my arm back to look at the phone again, but instead, he’s spotted the blue mark on the top of my hand –the mark that’s only just visible with the way that I’m holding my iPhone.

“What’s wrong with your hand?” he murmurs, turning it over to get a better look.

“Nothing.” But I know that he won’t take ‘nothing’ for an answer now that he can see it in all its glory.

“It’s definitely something.” I shrug my shoulder. “Rach, don’t just shrug it off! Your hand is turning purple.” He’s right, there’s a moon-shape mark in the middle of my flesh that’s started to turn a purple-burgundy colour; like black grapes and cherries. From there outwards its colour gradients into a petrifying shade of blue. It circles in rings the whole way over the back of my palm.  “Tell me what happened.”

“You don’t need to worry.”

“I think it’s a bit late for that.”

“It was the other day, at the cinema.”

“What? How did you do it?”

I internally slap myself for what I’m about to admit to the world’s biggest worrier and control freak. “I didn’t do it…”

“So who did?” We lock eyes for a few seconds before he catches on, a breath hitching in the back of his throat. “The paps?”

“Yep.” I look away in embarrassment, shifting myself further away on the bean bag and making a lot of unnecessary noise.

“And you didn’t tell me because?”

“Because I didn’t think it would matter.”

“This matters.” He holds up my hand to emphasise his point.

“It’s not a big deal.” I reason.

“No, it is. When were you gonna tell me.”

“I don’t know, I didn’t think it would bruise.”

“Well it quite obviously has done.”

“I’m not a kid…” I murmur, just quiet enough so that he can’t hear me.



“So tell me how it happened.”

“Someone pinched me.”


“I don’t know Harry.” I raise my voice and instantly regret it. He’s only asking because he cares. “Sorry, but I don’t know.”

“Okay then, we’ll find out. The car park will have CCTV cameras that we can look at.”


“Why not?”

“I don’t want you to do that.”

“You don’t want me to resolve this?”

“No.” I meet Harry’s eyes and the only way to describe his facial expression is to use the word disappointment.

“I can help… Why won’t you let me?”

“This is why I didn’t tell you!” He looks confused and taken aback. I have no control over my words anymore. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d react like this! That you’d want to get compensation for it or to use it to prove that you can protect me. You can’t. You can’t take every pap or fan or anyone else who hurts me to court. Sometimes I’ll have to stick up for myself.”

“That’s not the real reason…” Harry digs.

“No, you’re right. It’s not. It’s because I’m scared shitless about all of this court stuff with Miles and having another one on top of that because of those shitty paps is not gonna help one bit! They sent me dates that I have to be there at the courts to give evidence and I’m so fricken scared because all I can think about is how I’m going to have to stand there, in front of that pig, and talk about how he touched me and hurt me and-”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Harry’s scooted to the edge of the bed to restrain my hands. I look down at my arms and see that they’re all scratched up with thick red and white marks. I hadn’t even noticed that I’d started scratching them just then. I take in a deep breath and let it back out in as controlled a manner as possible, before looking back up at Harry. I don’t want him to think that I’m crazy.

“I’m just scared…”

“I know. I know you are. You’re so brave, but you can talk to me about all of this stuff. I’ll help you through it.” I can’t help thinking I’ve heard that before, but wish that I would just forget the past little arguments that we’ve had. Harry’s always had my best interests at heart. I know that now.

We sit there for a few minutes before he pulls me up onto the bed with him, so that I’m cradled against his chest, sitting in between his crossed legs. He rocks me lightly but all I need is something to hold onto; a pair of strong arms to hold me tight and a pyjama top to grip between my fingers.

“Now, I’m not trying to be insensitive, but I need to get a picture of that bruise.”

I don’t bother asking why -if Harry really wants to deal with this incident then fine. I’m not going to stop him. Having a few less paparazzi’s to worry about can only be a positive thing for the two of us; I’m sure the others wouldn’t mind that either.

Once he’s taken a few photos with his phone, we lie down on top of his duvet and it feels like the times when we’d only just met each other; before we became good friends and our misguided feelings started to cause problems in our inevitable and undetectable future relationship. I’m taken back to the den’s bedroom, where we innocently shared a bed after I found him looking through horrible articles of himself on the internet and we ended up talking for hours into the morning. But back then Harry’s arms weren’t holding me loosely around my shoulders, and my hands were definitely not pressed against his chest, to give him that extra bit of room that I know that he will want. The contract is still bothering him and he’s cautious about taking the next few steps, so I respect that and give Harry what he needs… time and patience.

The close proximity may be new and breath-taking this time, but it still feels right; just as it did having Harry by my side the night he carried me to bed and comforted me after all the drama with Miles. He doesn’t know I know -at least I don’t think he does- but it’s my little secret. And to be quite honest, I’m sort of worried about bringing it up. Oh, what the hell…


“Mhmm…” He breathes into my hair, tickling the skin there lightly.

“I remember.”

“Remember what?”

“The first night.” He tenses up and I giggle slightly. “I remember you carried me to bed that night, but you never left. Not until the morning anyway.”

He waits a few seconds before he says anything. “Are you mad?”

“Mad?” I open my eyes to smile at him. “How could anyone be mad that Harry Styles was kind enough to stay the whole night and make sure they were okay?”

“Are you sure?”

I nod a few times. “Yep. I think it was sweet.” He sighs a breath of relief and I feel him relax around me. “I think I could just fall asleep right now…”

“Go on then.”

“What? Here…?”

“Yeah. If I can manage to stay awake then I’ll carry back to your own room before Santa comes.”

“Oh good.” I grin lightly and nuzzle just a tiny bit closer.

I allow my thoughts to wander, as I do when I get ready to sleep, and I feel Harry pick something up from the windowsill; a windowsill that is only just hidden behind the headboard of the bed. It’s a book. He places it on the pillow behind my head and I hear the flutter of pages that confirms he’s just opened it up.

“You’re reading…” I smile to myself.

“Someone must have influenced me.”

“What book is it?” I yawn softly and shuffle my feet around on the covers to find a more comfortable position.

“The Hunger Games.”

“I love that book.”

“I know.”

“Read some to me?”

“Okay, just don’t laugh. I’m tired too.”

He only just gets though a few paragraphs from the choosing ceremony -stuttering gently a few times due to his fatigue- before I drift off into a dreamy sleep before Effie can reveal the names that she picks from the big, glass bowls. The place that I’m in is a lovely place, where Harry’s words continue to flow, like a faucet of low pressured water; fluid, warm and soft to the touch. When I wake up it will be Christmas, but the only thing I’m interested in waking up to is Harry and his snug embrace.


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