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"H, come here."

I lifted my head to glance briefly in the mirror before my eyes fell back down to the sink. I bit my lip back into my mouth.

"One second, love, I'm just doing something."

He had spent the last 30 minutes with his head craned beneath the bookcase in our bedroom. A photo frame had slipped down the back as he'd clumsily bumped it with his hip, as he'd guided me backwards to our mattress earlier that day in a haze of laughter and a messy peppering of kisses upon my face and neck.

"You'll have to get that later," I'd remarked, causing him to snicker against the shell of my ear. I'd later told him that it would probably be smarter to move the entire bookcase to reach behind it, but he feared other items would fall off when he did so. And so, obviously, the only solution was to wedge himself as far as he could under it, and hope for the best there.

I had a childish grin on my face as I sauntered into the bedroom. I knotted my arms behind my back, running my tongue over my bottom lip. I just wanted him to look at me; I knew if I saw him grant me with even the tiniest smile, in that moment, my heart would explode with joy.

"Aha!" he cried victoriously, leaping up from the ground and clutching the photo frame, sending me a wild smile as he turned to face me. "Got it. 'Told you I didn't need to move the bookcase." Harry set the photo frame back in its rightful position, playfully brushing his hands against each other. My teeth grazed over my lip again as he turned to me, proudly raking his fingers through his dishevelled hair.

"Sit down," I demanded gently, my hands suddenly fiddling nervously behind my back. I knew Harry; I knew him better than I knew myself, and I knew him more than I'd ever known anybody. I knew his mind; his movements. With each stride of his long legs, with every shift of his slender, ring-clad fingers - my favourite one being the wedding band on his left, of course - and with every teasing tilt of his head, I knew him like the back of my hand. Even years later, each time he smiled I felt my heart swell like it did when I was eighteen.

"Why?" The corners of his lips turned upwards, but he obliged, rocking backwards onto his heels. He sat on the edge of the bed, cocking an eyebrow at me when I didn't budge. "What?" he let out a short, airy chuckle, "Ana Grace, what are you playing at?"

"I just need to talk to you about something," I bit my lip back into my mouth, stifling a shy grin. I stood a little awkwardly, a foot or two from him. I turned my head a little to glance out of the window over my shoulder - the sky was bright, the sun shining down, but it was beginning to spit with rain. It wasn't unusual for this time of year, but I couldn't help but find it so beautifully ironic. It had always been our thing - it was like the elements knew what was between us, and they understood.

My heart fluttered as I turned my head back to him, and he caught my eye. "Love, look at you, you've gone bright red," he chuckled again, "What is it?" He reached for me, winding an arm around my waist and yanking me forwards into his lap, causing a giggle to leave my lips.

I straddled his lap as his hand reached out to curl around my chin, as I deliberately kept my hands from his view. I threw my arms over his shoulders, the piece of plastic balanced between my fingers as I debated how to tell him. It almost slipped my mind when my eyes met his; it was so incredibly easy to get lost in his irises of olive green, tangled in his chocolate-brown curls. He was so captivating - every inch of him.

His fingers lightly pinched at my hip, "Oi, earth to Ana Grace."

God, I knew he'd be an amazing dad. He didn't even know it, but I did. I could see him already, filled with unprecedented patience for our little one, gripping their hand at every given hurdle. He didn't even know it yet, and he wouldn't believe it, but I did; I really did.

"Do you want a son or a daughter?"

His eyebrows furrowed, his smile dropping from his face. He knew I wasn't simply posing a casual question. The way he stared at me, now, his lips parted in partial shock, partial confusion - the way he was pressed against me in complete silence. His movements against my body stilled; his hands frozen upon my waist, and the playful bounce of his legs halted. It was rare that Harry Styles was lost for words - but here he was.

He had yet to speak, and I couldn't help but think back to when we were teenagers. Six years ago, when we had been seated in this very position. His hair was longer, then - pulled back into a scruffy, adolescent bun that he somehow always tied with such ease. His eyes were just as captivating as they were now, his scent just as hypnotizing. He would smoke, then, blowing it between us as we sat inches from each other's faces - he didn't do that, anymore. I remember when he'd set his final pack down in front of me, a determined grin upon his lips. He said he didn't need them anymore.

Six years ago, I'd sat in my childhood bedroom, on his lap, and I told him that I loved him. I remembered the fear that had engulfed me, as he'd drawn back from his hold on me, to watch my eyes as tentatively as he did now. But this time, I wasn't afraid. I didn't fear losing him as a result of my admittance; I didn't fear him running away, nor did I fear changing the dynamic of our relationship, irreversibly. I knew him, now, better than I'd ever known him. He was still the curly-headed, grumpy, know-it-all boy I'd met all those years ago. But he was mine, unmistakably, and undoubtedly. He always would be.

At his sustained silence, I could truly hear the downpour outside, hammering against the pavement. I loosened my arms from around his neck, and leant back in his grip so that I could bring them between us. I showed him the test, grasping it between my fingers. His eyes fell between us, eyeing it carefully, almost suspiciously.

Harry spoke, finally - softly; cautiously, as if he didn't dare to break the silence between us. "Are you sure?"

I couldn't stifle the smile that overtook my face, one of my hands lifting to rest upon the side of his face. I drew my thumb over the smooth skin of his cheek, a small flutter making itself known in my chest. I knew he trusted me - just as I trusted him with everything I had. But he'd been hurt before; let down before. I knew he didn't ever expect me to disappoint him, but I still knew him.

My Harry had grown up disappointed by so many around him - he'd experienced such extreme loss, such hardship and such difficulty. I knew that would never simply go away. I'd seen him change in the years I'd been lucky enough to know him - he'd become brighter; he dared to be more hopeful, and he had confessed to me on a number of occasions that he truly felt able to instil faith into the family we'd created for ourselves - faith in me, in Tasha, in Liam, and in Luke. The bonds we'd made had extended so far beyond high school, and I knew he treasured them as much as I did.

But I knew he still somewhat feared that, one day, he could lose it all. That, somehow, we'd all disappear and leave him back where he'd started - alone. I knew that, deep down, he didn't doubt how unwavering my love was for him - how nothing could truly ever take me from him. I would love him, unconditionally, forever. But that sneaky, tricky fear would always play in the back of his mind, that one day, he could lose it all.

"Harry," I breathed, tracing my fingertips along his jaw. I could see tears beginning to well in his eyes; his lip beginning to quiver. My chest ached with pure elation at his demeanour before me, as I brought my thumb to drag over his shaking lip. "This is the sixth positive test I've had."

"The-The sixth?" he whispered, his hands suddenly becoming alive again. They squeezed at my waist, ever so gently, but his grip was firm, as if he was scared to let go.

"I'm pregnant, Harry," I confirmed, watching his face light up at my words. He knew what I was going to say, but he hadn't allowed himself to react until he was truly certain. His arms then wound around me entirely, bringing me into his chest to hug me tighter than I was sure he ever had. He buried his face in my shoulder, and my fingers wove into the hair upon the nape of his neck, feeling his body shake harshly as he broke, properly into tears.

"Oh, baby," I whispered, feeling tears well in my own eyes as he clung onto me so tightly, his face now pressed into my neck. He didn't speak for another few moments - I didn't either. We simply held each other, the emotions far too overwhelming to seek to summarise them in mere words - as it often was, with us. The love I felt for him was often beyond anything I could comprehend - a love much stronger than I'd ever believed human beings were capable of feeling. I was so in love with him that it hurt. I knew I would be until the day I died.

"I love you," he murmured into my neck, suddenly, before drawing backwards to face me. His arms remained around my waist, and my hands returned to his face, the pregnancy test now placed upon the bed beside us. I pressed my lips to his, our mouths moulding together in the way they always did - so perfectly, that it continued to only confirm what I'd always known - we belonged together, truly. Our kiss broke, but our lips remained against one another's, our foreheads pressed together. "Fuck, I love you so much, Ana Grace."

"I love you more," I grinned, stroking my thumb over his cheek again, before bringing it upwards to wipe the remaining tears which were pooling under his eyes.

"God.." he muttered, shaking his head as if this was some dream he would wake from. He stared down at his own lap for a moment, before a boyish grin finally began to overtake his features, just as I'd anticipated. A soft, breathy laugh left his lips, as he shook his head again, bringing his hands over his face in a joyful exasperation. I brought my hands over his own, echoing his gentle laugh as he leaned backwards, shifting to lay on his back on our bed, tugging me with him. I was fully resting on top of him, now, our faces mere inches apart.

I could never, ever grow tired of watching him in this way. Nobody deserved happiness more than he did - and to be able to give it to him was undoubtedly the highest, greatest honour of my life. Watching the dark, thick waves of his hair sprawled out against the duvet; his tanned skin so unbelievably radiant, the smooth surface adorned by the odd freckle or mole and framed by the sharp structure of his cheekbones and jawline. His lips - a deep, flushed pink, so plump and practically begging me to kiss them as they spread into a wide, effortlessly beautiful smile. I was certain I was the luckiest person in the world.

"You'll be an incredible dad, Harry," I told him before he dared to even ponder otherwise. His face grew slightly serious for a moment, his hand reaching upwards to snake into my hair.

"I'm going to be everything that he wasn't, for me," he whispered, before adding, "I have to be." He needn't say any more; I knew the main disappointment in his life had been his own father - it didn't surprise me that his immediate occupation was with being better than him - with being there for our child in the way his father wasn't for him, in nurturing and loving our child in the way he had always yearned to be nurtured and loved. I nodded, an understanding smile on my lips as I wrapped my own hand around his wrist, and leant forward to press a small kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"You'll be that and more, I know you will."

Harry's smile then returned, playing upon his lips again. His fingers smoothed through my hair, his touch so unbelievably soothing, the familiarity of his hands on me never causing the goosebumps he gave me to waver.

And I knew he would be - he'd be everything I could ever want and need, and more - just as he always had been. He'd be my Harry - my beautiful, clever, cheeky, stubborn husband. The father of my child. And we'd be happy; our own family, that would always show him the unconditional love all of us really craved - he'd never doubt it for a second.

"I never thought it was possible.." he paused, stroking my hair away from my face, "..to be even happier than you've made me for all these years. But this.." he paused again, bringing his lip between his teeth momentarily, as he studied my face carefully. "This is a new high, baby."

Before I could respond, Harry then craned his neck around me, suddenly, peering over my shoulder at the window on the far wall of our bedroom. I watched his eyes, carefully, as they caught sight of the downpour outside. A glimmer surfaced in the piercing green, as the corner of his lip turned upwards. He was thinking the same as I was - he didn't need to say anything at all.

Instead, he pulled me to him, pressing his lips to mine once more, telling me far more than his words ever could.