Swaggie Friday (1/?)
Fandom: One Direction.
Pairing: Hareema. (Reema/Harry), Louis/Harry
Characters: Reema, Harry, Louis and probably the rest of One Direction.
Summary: Harry wakes up and he's not exactly himself.
A/N: You're probably not going to want to read this unless you're Reema, lbr.
Disclaimer: I don't own One Direction. or anyone tbh.
Harry wakes up in a strange room. This wouldn’t be such a weird occurrence because he’s pretty used to waking up in hotels and being disorientated for a few moments but: A.) Harry’s not on tour anymore and B.) This definitely isn’t a hotel.
Great, the press are going to have a field day with this. Harry Styles caught leaving another mystery girls house.
He sighs, imagining all the headlines and rubs his eyes before catching a glimpse of an oversized picture of himself that’s stuck on the white wall. Even better, I slept with a fan. I slept with a fan. Fuck.
He doesn’t even know where the girl is. The house is pretty much silent and the only thing he can hear is the sound of, what he thinks are roosters outside. He listens closely for the buzz of a shower or a kettle but there’s nothing. Surely she wouldn’t skip and leave him stranded in her house, would she?
Harry pulls himself from the bed and walks over to examine the desk. He shudders at his face staring down from the wall. Trailing his finger over the books on a shelf, he smiles, at least she’s not stupid. He likes this girl. He must have liked her enough to come home with her last night even if he can’t remember that. It’s still nice to get some confirmation that his drunken-self picked someone good.
There’s a blackberry lying on top of some papers and since Harry’s misplaced his own phone, he picks it up and dials in Louis’ number. Mystery girl won’t mind that he’s using her phone, right? Louis picks up after about five rings. Harry can’t help but smile at his voice. Well, Harry always smiles at Louis’ voice but that’s not the point. Louis sounds groggy and confused and Harry feels sorry for waking him up so early.
“Lou, listen. I woke up in some girl’s bedroom, I think she’s a fan and I’ve no idea where she is so, I don’t know where I am and I’ve lost my phone. I can’t even remember last night.” It all comes barrelling out and Harry hardly stops for a breath.
“A fan of what? Who is this?” Louis asks, sounding genuinely confused.
“What? Mate, It’s Harry.”
“You know if you’re going to make prank calls you could at least pretend to be someone of your own gender. How did you even get this number?”
The call drops and okay, maybe Harry should have called Liam instead since he’s the sensible one.
Harry sighs again, he has a feeling that he’ll be doing a lot of that today. There’s a laptop on the floor beside the bed. He feels a bit like Sherlock Holmes when he picks it up. People keep their lives on laptops right? So if there’s one sure way to get to know this girl her laptop is the key. Harry clicks a few things aimlessly, nothing. He spies the most visited bookmarks and smiles to himself, Twitter. “Standard.” he nods before clicking on the bookmarked labelled “Tumblr.”
Her URL is wanderection and it just makes Harry like her even more. He clicks on the about page. She’s cute, her name is Reema, she likes his band, Nutella, jawlines, hands and straws. She laughs a lot and cries about him. Harry’s not sure if that’s a good thing.
“And his relation to his best friend’s dick.” Harry almost chokes. Fuck, so she thinks that Louis and him are gay. He smiles to himself, “Well, she’s not wrong.”
He opens a new tab and decides to check out her twitter. Her timeline is full of people posting lyrics to Ed’s songs and tagging them as #lourry, whatever that means. He thinks this is probably the most he’s ever seen the word “gay” anywhere in his life. Before he can stop himself he’s typing in the Compose New Tweet section. “Does anyone know where Reema is?”
He waits for a moment and suddenly, a stream of mentions comes flooding through.
“@swaggays u ok” comes up about twelve times. So her friends aren’t exactly much help.
There’s a grumble from his stomach and Harry decides that it’s time to do some more Sherlock-ing which actually means that he’s going to walk to the kitchen. He hopes that she has some Nutella since she seems to love it so much and the mention of it on her blog made him crave it. He sneaks down the stairs, and stumbles across the kitchen.
There’s a note stuck to the fridge, he peels it off and examines it,
“Reema, we’re gone for a week. We stocked up on sweetcorn. Don’t spend too much time on the computer.” Harry laughs. Sweetcorn and nutella. Well, at least she doesn’t have bad taste.
Harry grabs an apple. He figures that she won’t mind that he took an apple plus, he’s already used her phone and snooped through her computer. He wonders if he’s being rude but she’s the one who left him in her house without saying a word so she can’t blame him for any of this.
He finishes the apple, throws the core into the bin and makes his way into the hall in search of a bathroom. There are some family pictures on the walls and Harry grows to like Reema’s face more each time he sees it. He opens a few doors before finally finding a bathroom. He eyes it up, it’s pretty much a standard bathroom and he’s not sure what clues he’s looking for there. He twists the tap and splashes his face with some cold water before looking up -
A scream escapes his mouth but he’s not sure if there’s actually any sound. He stares at the girl staring back at him - no, he stares at the reflection staring back at him.
“Shit. I have boobs.”
+++
It’s a totally average day. You wake up. You’re in a bedroom that’s not your own. You touch your hair and can’t remember cutting it but it’s definitely shorter and then, you’re logged into Harry Styles’ Twitter account. Yeah, totally normal day.
So, Reema is crying and it’s not a normal kind of fangirl crying. She’s crying a lot more than she usually does because she’s logged into his Twitter and her hands are shaking and she really doesn’t know what to do or how this happened.
Pull yourself together, Reema.
She gulps and types, “I woke up and I’m in Harry’s room tbh wbu.” There’s loads of boring people on his timeline and Reema’s momentarily annoyed at the fact that he follows the worst people instead of the best people. She checks his replies and the people there are even more annoying, if she’s honest. There are a few things she can do. She can ignore the replies from her friends telling him to fuck off or she can reply to their tweets and follow them. She decides that replying is probably not the best idea because she’ll probably kill them.
Reema bites her lip and tries to think rationally about what she can do. Before even getting to any kind of actual real rational thought she’s already checking Harry’s direct messages. There’s a few from the fans that he follows which are, once again, really boring and then there’s the ones that are from Louis.
Don’t scream. Don’t scream. You’ll only draw attention to yourself and you don’t even know where you are.
She’s surprised by how many there are. Can’t these boys just text each other? Don’t they live together? Holy shit, they live together. If she’s not dreaming and she’s in Harry’s house then that means that Louis is here too. She brushes the thought aside because she can’t possibly be in their house. She sits back in the chair and puts a hand over her mouth to muffle her tears and scrolls up through the messages.
“Love you J x”
“Can’t wait to see you later…xx”
“Were those lyrics you tweeted for me, Haz? J x”
Reema is pretty sure that she’s going to faint if she doesn’t move. She jumps from the chair and throws herself onto the bed, burying her head into the pillow and sobbing more. Her head is spinning, she can’t get her thoughts in any kind of order and she doesn’t even hear the bedroom door opening.
There’s a person sitting beside her on the bed. She’s honestly too afraid to look up. What if it’s Louis? She’ll die. She’s positive that she’ll die.
“Harry. I got the weirdest phone call this morning - - Are you crying?” Oh god, that’s Louis’ voice. That’s Louis on the bed beside her and that’s Louis calling her Harry. What the fuck.
Reema pulls herself up and looks at him. She hasn’t died yet which she thinks is probably a really good thing, she hasn’t screamed yet which is even better. In fact, she hasn’t shown any signs of being a ridiculous fangirl except for the fact that she’s sobbing uncontrollably and shaking.
“Oh my god. Babe, you’re shaking.” Louis sounds like he’s in anguish. He throws his arms around her and kisses her cheek. “Harry, is everything okay?”
“Wh- Why are you calling me Harry?” Louis Tomlinson has hugged her and just kissed her on the cheek and she’s worrying about why he’s calling her Harry. If she wasn’t such a mess right now, she’d be disappointed in herself.
“I’m Reema.” She says, because she doesn’t really know what else she can say and Louis looks at her like she has four heads.
“Let’s get you a cuppa, alright?”
They’re in the kitchen and Reema is drinking Yorkshire tea with Louis sitting across from her. This would be a lot cooler if Louis didn’t think that she was Harry and if she knew what was happening with her life.
“So, you just woke up and don’t feel like yourself today. That’s okay. It’s nothing to worry about. I won’t have to make any frantic calls to Simon. You’re not going into any kind of treatment centre yet, Harry.” Louis is smiling but Reema can see right through it, she tell that he’s clearly worrying. He reaches his arm over the table and places his hand over Reema’s, squeezing it to reassure her - Harry - that everything will be okay.
Reema flinches and pulls her hand away. Under any other circumstance Louis holding her hand like that would be fine but honestly, she thinks she’s cracking up. Like, this can’t actually be real.
Louis’ face drops.
“Sorry. Is this because you and I? All that happened. Harry, I didn’t think it would make you crack like this.”
Oh god, Louis just admitted that him and Harry are or have and wow, everything starts to spin more before her thoughts fade to black.