The morning after comes around and passes by, taking with it any hope Alouette has to see Harry again.

By the time the afternoon melts into evening she's surrendered to spending a mostly boring day in the company of herself only. Evie lets her go a bit earlier than usual, so she decides to go get something warm to drink and spend the rest of her day in her rooms and try to write the perfect reply to Amina.

The letter she received yesterday has really warmed her heart, even though it also made her miss home so much more. She can't wait to be finally done with her tedious job and go back to the Revolution.

She stopped by the cafeteria to order a coffee and she's now walking back to her bedroom holding the warm cup in front of her with both hands. She takes off the lid, wanting it to cool down quicker, and looks down as she puts it in the pocket of her jacket.

That's all it takes.

She glances up just as she crashes against someone, the contents of her cup flying in the air before crashing down on their clothes like sweet-smelling raindrops.

Alouette blinks a few times in shock before looking up, her soul dying inside her chest in the second she does.

She's screwed.

She's screwed, because the annoyed eyes looking back at her are the forest green ones of none other than Harry Styles.

Her mouth falls open as she lets her gaze travel down his tall figure, to the slight stubble on his jawline to his once white dress shirt, that is now covered in the brown stains of her coffee. She stares as the blotches become bigger and bigger as the fabric drinks up the fluid, not daring to meet his gaze again.

He clears his throat and she's forced to look up, and she's sure she'd start crying if she wasn't as strong as she is. But even then, doing that wouldn't be so beneath her, considering she's just done that one thing she should have never done.

She just showered Harry in coffee, there has to be a specific circle in hell for that. If there isn't yet, she can say with certainty Harry himself will make sure one will be created.

She finally looks into his dark green eyes and sees silent anger burning deep inside of them, and it's only then that the stillness of the scene breaks.

"I'm so sorry, sir—"

Harry interrupts her by raising a hand. "I don't want to hear a word," he mutters before taking off the black jacket of his suit and going back inside, throwing it on what looks like a black leather couch.

Only then Alouette realised that she's standing in front of a door and sends a curious glance inside, catching Harry just as he peels the white shirt off his body and throws it on the floor, giving her an eyeful of the strong muscles  of his naked back as he disappears into another room.

She feels suddenly embarrassed when she realises she's standing right in front of Harry's rooms. She managed to destroy his shirt just as he was getting out, like a proper idiot.

A few instants later he comes back, his fingers working quickly on the buttons of the new white shirt he's wearing as he closes it, and Alouette only manages to see the dark silhouette of a tattoo on his stomach before it's covered by the fabric.

Harry glances up and gives her a deadly glare as he swings his black tie around his neck, and she looks away fast, feeling like she's just crossed a very much real line. She knows she shouldn't have looked inside his rooms, but she was too instinctively curious not to do it.

"Not quite how I expected to meet you again, Lark."

Alouette looks up fast as soon as she hears him speak, feeling her cheeks get warmer because of the awkwardness of the situation. "I'm so, so sorry, sir..."

Harry takes the jacket from the couch and puts it on again before stepping out of the room and typing down a code on the tab next to the door, forcing her to take an instinctive step back when his sweet woody scent hits her nose.

"I really am sorry, you have to believe me."

"Someone would think you've learned to look where you're going by now."

"I was!" Alouette exclaims, "I promise I was, sir. I looked down for a second and—"

Harry lets out an exasperated sigh, turning around and walking down the corridor. "I don't like to be late to my appointments, Lark," he states, "I'm going to be late now, because of you."

She unconsciously starts following him, still feeling very apologetic. She'll do whatever he wants her to do, she just needs him to forgive her, because she absolutely cannot be in his black book right now. Not after all the steps forward they took last night.

"I promise it won't happen ever again, sir."

"Are you truly promising, or are you just saying it to get me to forgive you?" He sends her a glance. "It looks like you can't go a day without striving for my approval," he adds, a little reference to the conversation from the night before.

Alouette raises an eyebrow. "I'm not doing that!" she replies, hit in the heart by his comment. "I don't strive for your approval and if I have to say it all, I also don't need you to forgive me."

It's a lie, she knows it and he knows it too, but he doesn't say anything about it and takes it as it is, so she does too.

"As a matter of fact, you can keep your forgiveness to yourself," she ends her statement, sending Harry a winning look as she walks next to him.

He lets out a chuckle, a little sarcastic smile on his lips. "Oh, really? Then why are you following me? I haven't asked you to."

Alouette opens her mouth to reply but closes it again right after, resembling a fish. She really does hate when he's right. "I happen to need to go in your same direction?" she says, but it comes out as a question and even she can tell it's not one of her proudest moments.

"To the lift? Which floor are you going to?"

She narrows her eyes at him as she quickly evaluates her possibilities. She can either admit what they already know and leave, or she can go ahead and get in the lift with Harry.

Fifteen seconds with him in a small, closed metal box already seem too much.

"If you'll excuse me, Evie needs me," she states, not missing the amused look he sends her way before escaping from him.

That was embarrassing, she's sure she'll have nightmares about it for the next century at least.

She turns the corner and stops walking immediately, letting out a pained sigh as the reviews that disaster of a conversation in her mind. She usually doesn't make a fool of herself easily, but Harry seems to have a talent for putting her in the awkwardest situations. He thrives off other people's embarrassment, and maybe she hates him a little bit more because of that.

She shakes her head and throws her empty coffee cup in the first bin she finds, realising only then that she's still covered by the dark brown drink. Of course Harry hasn't bothered to tell her, because why would he? He was having way too much fun seeing her going around like that.

If she could remove that day from her brain and throw it away with that damned coffee cup, she would. Sadly, it isn't an option.

She goes back to her bedroom, making a mental note of never approaching the whereabouts of Harry's rooms ever again, not even by mistake, and especially if she's holding a cup.

Once she's there she goes back inside and puts the dark jacket of the pantsuit she's wearing on the couch. The plastic lid she put there some minutes ago falls to the ground at the movement and she looks at it accusingly before throwing it away just as fast. If only she hadn't removed the lid, it wouldn't have been such a clamorous disaster.

She can only hope Harry doesn't hate her now, because despite what she told him, she absolutely needs his forgiveness and she needs it quickly. She doesn't have that much time left, half of her first month has already gone by, which leaves her with only a month and half to complete her task. Maybe she should ask for some more time.

She takes off the white shirt she's wearing underneath and sighs, going into the bathroom and putting some soap on it before turning on the tap and rubbing the fabric under the water.

One thing that she likes about the Palace is that there's always water. It's never missing, no matter at what time she turns it on. It's a luxury she doesn't have at the Revolution, especially later in the night.

She might not be a princess, but she certainly feels like it by living there.

Alouette washes the foam off the shirt and sighs when she notices she can still see the line of the coffee stain. She balls it up and leaves it in the sink, deciding to have it cleaned later.

She retrieves a pink shirt from her wardrobe and puts it on, more in spite of Harry than anything else. Not that he'd notice what she's wearing, anyway. But it makes her feel better, so it's okay.

A quick glance to the digital clock in the mirror tells her it's half past six, so she takes her jacket again and walks out of her room, ignoring her previous plans and deciding to check if Evie needs any help. She'll do anything to push the memory of her recent meeting to the very back of her mind.

She's walking to Evie's office when she's suddenly stopped by a girl that she doesn't know the name of, even though she's seen her around before.

"You're Lark, right?" she asks, and only when she hears her speak Alouette realises where she's seen her. She's one of the people she saw in the room with Harry when he was doing his daily speech some days ago.

"I am," Alouette replies, feeling a bit confused by what's going on. How does she know her name?

The girl smiles. "Perfect! Here you are." She hands Alouette a cup and she takes it, even more puzzled than before.

"What is this?"

"Coffee! Mr. Styles asked for it to be delivered to you." Her phone goes off and she takes it out of her pocket, widening her eyes when she sees the screen. "Oh, I'm required back downstairs! Enjoy your coffee!"

"Thanks?" Alouette replies, but the other is already long gone.

Newly alone in the corridor, she glances at the cup, raising an eyebrow.

Harry has bought a cup of coffee for her. It looks like he isn't as annoyed as he pretended to be. Her head hurts, she doesn't understand anything anymore. How is he even allowed to be so confusing? It should be against the law to play with people's minds like that.

She lets out a hopeless sigh and takes a sip, clenching her teeth in the second she does.

Of course he got her order perfectly right, down to the amount of sugar she prefers in her coffee.

What an asshole.

Suddenly she doesn't feel like going to Evie anymore, so she resorts to walking around the empty white corridors of the top floors while sipping her warm drink.

Everyone seems to be busy on the floor below, so almost nobody is around. She stops in front of one of the windows; the sky is quickly darkening outside and the lights of the white corridor behind her are bright, so she can only see the colourful lights of the city against her own reflection.

She wonders if people can see her from the street, or if she's too high up for them to. She decides her thought has a metaphorical depth, too. It can't be easy to relate to the lives of the people in the city when living up here.

She shakes the cup to check if it's empty and nods to herself, throwing it away as well.

By now it's seven in the evening, but she doesn't feel particularly hungry. She surely doesn't want to go to dining hall, she's never liked the way it reminds her of home while being so different at the same time.

She also knows that if she doesn't eat before it closes she won't get to eat anything until morning though, so she decides to go there anyway.

When she gets there she asks for some chips in a bag, paying for her meal before taking the warm food and walking out of the room again, opening it and starting to eat while she looks for the perfect spot to stop at.

She stops in her tracks when she reaches a door. It brings to a large balcony, big enough to fit a couple of tables, where people usually sit to eat their lunch. She too has done it before, in Evie's company.

But it's night now and it's much colder outside, so it's completely desert. It's perfect.

Alouette opens it and goes outside, shivering when the freezing air of the night hits her. She should've brought a coat, but it's too late to go back now.

She ignores the tables and walks to the railing while eating the chips, leaning her elbows on it when she gets there. It's tall and strong enough to hold her weight steadily, so she looks straight down to the artificial starry night sky the city creates.

She's always been attracted to the way cities look when it's dark. Amina is right, they really seem to belong in a fairytale.

At the same time, though, they leave a bittersweet feeling inside of her, because those lights are only the ones of the banners and commercials. The more she thinks about it, the less poetic it becomes.

She sighs and tilts her head, throwing the empty paper bag in a bin when she finishes eating. Brightly illuminated tall buildings are displayed right in front of her and the cars in the streets down below run past like busy ants.

If that's the way Harry has always seen the real world, the one right past the walls of the residence, she isn't surprised that he thinks he's the master of the universe. After all, everything looks so inconsequential from up there.

"I see you have a fascination for balconies."

The voice comes so unexpected that Alouette almost falls down and has to cling to the railing not to. She turns around quickly, realising that Harry is standing in the doorway, still wearing his perfectly polished, and very expensive, black suit.

There's some makeup on his face, just a bit around his eyes and a slightly darker shade on his lips. It isn't that noticeable though, she would've never realised he's wearing makeup if she hadn't seen him barely an hour before.

"I told you I'd find you," he states when she doesn't say a word, making his way towards her. He leans his elbows on the railing only some feet away from her, and she observes his side profile in the brightly coloured lights coming from the city.

"I'm sorry for your shirt," she tells him, and he sends her a little glance, but doesn't say a word.

"It's cold tonight," Harry says, and she nods.

"I just felt like coming out here."

He hums. "Are you feeling melancholic, Lark?"

Alouette's head snaps in his direction. "What do you mean?"

"It's only a supposition," he replies, "I figure there's someone you care about out there. You're not the first that comes here out of longing."

She lets out a little shocked laugh, stressed by the way he's just so right. It's scary to realise how perceptive he truly is at times. It's like he knows her thoughts even before she gets to think them. He's always one step ahead. The worry that he'll figure her out comes back again.

"I miss my sister," she tells him, "I haven't seen her in a while. She means the world to me. Do you have siblings?"

Harry immediately tenses up and steps away from the railing, a darkened look in his eyes. "I'll leave you be," he mutters, making to go away, but Alouette is quick to stop him.

"No, don't," she says before she even realises it, confusing herself and him at the same time. "I'm sorry if my question was inappropriate. You can stay, I won't ask again."

He moves closer to the railing again, putting his hand on it and looking at her attentively, not saying a word.

She lets out a sigh, going back to staring at the city below, trying to find something else to talk about. She doesn't know what possesses to do it, but she asks, "can I be honest with you, sir?"

He gives her a slight nod.

"I came out here because I like to look at the city at night," she shares, telling him the thoughts that were in her mind in that cold evening, "it's entrancing. Sometimes I wonder where the city ends and where the sky starts. I wonder if I'd fall down to the streets or into the stars if I were to lose my grip on the railing.

"But it makes me sad, too. Melancholic, as you said. Because the stars are up in the sky, too far away from earth, and all we're left with is a pale, empty imitation of them. And yet we think we have everything figured out, because how could we not? Sometimes, it looks like the universe is made for us. Others, it feels like it's crushed by our weight. And others again, we're the ones being smothered by it. So, I also feel suffocated by this place."

Harry lets her speak, and for the first time she can see an actually interested look in his eyes. "So is coming out here a punishment or a reward?" He asks her when she's done, earning a curious look from her. She's never thought about it that way.

"Which one is it for you, if I may ask?"

"It's both and neither."

She gives him a little nod, accepting the answer. "I wouldn't say it's a punishment for me," she replies, thinking about his question, "but it also isn't a reward. It's just a bit easier to think out here." She blinks a few times, suddenly realising that she's having that conversation with Harry, out of all people. "Wow, I'm sorry for that. It was a lot all at once."

Harry sends her an unreadable look. "You're intriguing, Lark."

"Is that a bad thing or a good one?"

"It's a thing."

Alouette gives him a side-glance when he replies, trying to decide if she should be worried he said that or not. "I always think too much," she mutters, letting out a little laugh to ease her stress in that situation.

"Thinking is a virtue, one that isn't as widespread as it should be."

"Everyone thinks, sir, whether the subject is trivial or not. But I get what you mean. And I really am sorry about your shirt."

He lets out a barely audible sigh. "If you mention the shirt one more time you'll lead me to believe you want to clean it personally."

"Yeah, no, those stains won't be cleaned without a fight. It's all yours."

Harry shakes his head at her comment, a faint smile on his lips. "I'm required elsewhere, but you're free to stay here and get ready to fight yours," he states, letting go of the railing. "Besides, you're forgiven."

Alouette turns around quickly as he walks away. "Technically you didn't pay attention to where you were going either, you know?" She says, not wanting him to win that round so easily, "don't worry though, I forgive you too."

He stops and sends her a look. "You're walking on a very thin line right now, Lark," he warns her, but the hint of amusement hidden in his irises lets her know she isn't really.

"Do you find that intriguing too?"

Harry tilts his head. "I do, actually."

"Then it can't be that wrong."

I hope you enjoyed this chapter x
Miki