Our Years

*Winner of the Worlds Best 1D Fanfiction Writer* They say your soulmate will always find you. But what they didn't say is that they will find you, then they will go, mess with your heart, and repeat the whole process over and over again. But will the heartbreak and pain be too much for Emma to handle, as the mysterious Harry Styles dances his way into and out of her life?
Our Years - Episode 119:00 min.
Our Years - Episode 222:00 min.
Our Years - Episode 321:00 min.
Our Years - Episode 418:00 min.
Our Years - Episode 518:00 min.
Our Years - Episode 616:00 min.
Our Years - Episode 720:00 min.
Our Years - Episode 819:00 min.
Our Years - Episode 912:00 min.
Our Years - Episode 1017:00 min.


17. Fresh Years Part Two- 1

I walked into work, stared around at my surroundings, and smiled. Not many people can say that. Then again, I was having a lucky streak, and it hadn't been used up yet. It had been about two years since my luck had started, and I had been loving every minute of it. It had, of course, started from the moment Harry wrapped his arms around me and kissed me to the point I couldn't breathe in Spain. He hadn't let go since. Yes, we were one of the few couples at our young age who'd actually lasted more than a year. It was a blessing, an absolute blessing.  

We'd moved back to the small town we grew up in together, and clubbed together our savings to rent a little apartment, that was just across the road from Anne and Gemma's. It wasn't much, sometimes it got a little bit cramped, but it was something to call ours. The very word 'ours' spent shivers down my spine, like it just confirmed how Harry and I were a couple. It still does do that, to this very day of which I'm writing it.

Whilst Harry had continued to busk, finding he had a talent for it after doing it so much with Niall, I expanded my little event planning business. The orders were coming in fast, from all different directions of the country. Sadly, I didn't take on many of my old Irish clients, because I just didn't feel like going onto a plane every day of the week. Not that it affected business, thankfully. 
After half a year of running the business from our apartment (*swoon*), I had managed to save up enough money to start to actually employ other people, and to relocate to an office. The thing about running your own business is that you can hire people that you know are good at what they do, and that you get along with. So my little team of ten were, and still are. like a third family. Second being the Styles'.

"Good morning, ma'am!" called out Ryan, with a trill to his voice. His outlandish clothes (for example, that day he was sporting a bright pink suit and turquoise tie, which barely matched the dress code) and higher-than-your-average-man voice immediately set him out from the crowd as being gay.

I smiled at him. "Ryan, sweetie, I may be your boss, but you don't need to call me ma'am." He had only been in the company for a couple of weeks at that moment in time, so was still adjusting to our surroundings. We always have had what seems to be an unusual work ethic: in the words of Snow White, we whistle whilst we work. Just because of the friendly atmosphere.

"Well I'm going to do it anyway," he winked, typing into the computer that I was present. "We've had a couple of phone calls for you, and I just know your email inbox is imploding, as usual. I've transferred the calls to your line, so they'll be on the phone on your desk."

"Thank you," I nodded, before heading through the double doors and into the main office. To try and make it as homely as possible, I'd added a little sitting area opposite to the desks. It's also a pretty useful feature for making meetings less informal. The really posh people go into my personal office, but most people are happy to have a cuppa and a slouch on the couch, whilst discussing plans for their events. It's still, to this day, definitely a good way to seal the deals. 

As I entered the main office, the eight other planners gave me big grins, as they'd probably heard the familiar click of my heels. "Hey!" called out one.

I recognised the voice immediately. It was ridden by cigarette smoke, so I knew it straight away. Velma. Despite the fact the room stinks after lunch hour, which she uses to chug down smoke, she's one of my best employees. "Hi!" I said in reply.

Sarah walked in around the same time as me, so she fell into step with me as I made my way to my office. Yes, I'm sorry, I was generous enough to employ Sarah. Her grades were appalling on the CV, but despite our differences in the past, I could see how earnestly she wanted to earn money to raise her kid. So I let have the job of promoting the company. She hasn't let me down yet. "Emma, hi, what's going on?"

"Not much," I laughed. "I mean I'm sure there's going to be loads going on by time I sit down behind my computer but..." Just at that moment, I heard Ryan's heeled loafers jog behind me. I turned around, and I beamed. There were the most beautiful flowers, tied into a bouquet with a green ribbon. The flowers were not the stereotypical roses, but were white lilies. They smelt amazing. "Oh Ryan, has one of your one-night stands splashed out on you?"

All three of us giggled. "I wish!" Ryan cackled. "No, no, Emma, these are for you."

My beam grew even wider as he handed them to me. "Ah, they're amazing," I breathed, burying my face into the white petals. "Do you know who they're from?"

Ryan raised an eyebrow at me. "Who do you think? Your lover boy, of course, Mr. Harry Styles!" Shaking his head, he added, "Honestly, I am so envious. If I were in your shoes..." He fanned himself with his perfectly manicured hands. "The things I would do to that man."

"Well I'm sorry, but he's mine," I chuckled, handing the flowers back to him. "Could you grab me a vase, with some water in, please?" 

With a swish of his heels, Ryan went to the kitchen area. Sarah had waved her hurried goodbyes and plonked herself behind her desk, and finally, I'd reached my office. Straight away I perched on the edge of the desk, and pressed the answer machine button. I was pleasantly surprised to hear that both of them were from Lacey, asking me to call her whenever I had a spare moment. I figured work could wait a moment, so I called her back.

Almost straight away she picked up. "Emma!" Her voice was practically overtaken with an Irish tone. She'd never left Ireland after helping Niall get over the break up. Last time I'd heard from Lacey, she was bunking with Niall, and had picked up a barmaid job, alongside Aoife, at The Fair Irishman.

"Lacey, hello," I said brightly. I took the phone to my desk, and leaned it between my shoulder and my ear as I typed in my login details. It dawned on me that it must be pretty important if she called me at work. She knew how busy I got.

"I'm sorry to call you at work, but this is the only spare hour I have today, and if you agree, you'll need a few days to book the flights." Her voice dimmed as she said the last few words.

I realised what she was getting at straight away. "Ireland?" I heard a chink of a necklace from down the line, which I took as her nodding. "Yeah, I'd love that!" Opening up the calendar app on my phone, I was both happy and surprised to see that I had this weekend coming completely free. Because we're sad like that, Harry and I have each other's schedules on our calendars, so I knew he was free too.
 "I think that should be okay! I'll ask Harry if he's cool with it later, but I don't really see why he wouldn't be." Well. Harry might not have wanted to see Niall, after indirectly stealing his girlfriend. Then again, they'd had such good times together, busking and doing sets at the Irishman. Besides, Harry was comfortable with the fact Niall and I had rekindled our friendship, and we still Skype every week.  

A couple of minutes later, Lacey and I had hung up, and I was tearing through my inbox, replying to emails speedily. When you're in a business that relies a lot on online communication, an email tirade is inevitable. Luckily, around the time I had a knock on the door, I was already three quarters of the way through my inbox. Ryan had been in half an hour earlier, with the lilies, so it couldn't have been him. I waved my hand, to indicate the person could come in. 

When I looked up, the same smile I had when I received the flowers that morning reached my face. For the sender of the flowers himself was there, in front of me. I have never, in all my time knowing Harry, I have never not smiled at the sight of him. "Harry!" I squealed, running up to him and wrapping my arms around him. He pulled me in for a deep, low kiss. 

I sighed happily as he pulled away and looked into my eyes. "Hey babe," he softly said. Then he let go of me and casually strolled to my desk, sat down, and propped his lean legs up on it. 

After exchanging a laugh with him, I followed his path and sat on his lap. It reminded me briefly of how Niall used to hold me, but I shook the thought out of my mind. "What are you doing here then? I should be working, you know." 

"Actually, I'm here on planning business," he smirked, kissing my neck sensually.

I span round, so my legs straddled his waist. "Are you now? I wasn't aware you needed to plan anything."

"I got a phone call a few minutes ago, from Niall Niall," Harry said carefully. He rarely brought up Niall, not because he didn't like him, but just out of guilt. "He was wondering if we'd be up for flying over to Ireland this weekend?"

"Ooh," I murmured, "I got a call from Lacey, asking the same thing. What did you say to him?"

Harry hugged me tightly. "I said it should be alright, if you said it was okay. So I am here to ask you, because I thought it'd be a good excuse to see you in the flesh."

"I said the same thing, only the other way around!" I exclaimed. "I suppose we are going to Ireland then?"

After lifting me off his lap, getting out of my chair, and walking to the door (with my hand in his), Harry said in the most brilliant voice, "Oh aye, lassie!"

"Darling, that's more like Scottish!" I kissed him on the cheek. "You need to make it softer."

Once he'd barely finished laughing at the joke he was about to tell, Harry whispered, "We all know you prefer it the opposite of soft." I groaned at the joke. Such a sick sense of humour he has, I swear to you.
Harry kissed me on the nose, then my shoulder, then my wrist, and then the knuckles of the hand of mine he was holding. Then he let go of it. "I love you."

"And I love you." We exchanged a meaningful glance, full of love and respect. So this was love, proper love, the miracle that makes life sweet. And I cannot tell you how amazing it feels.


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