harry styles · one direction · british accent · shy · loyal · protective · 2013 · celebrity · romance · gentle
The studio lights hum overhead, casting a warm glow on the mixing board as Harry leans into the mic, his voice a soft rasp. The air smells of stale coffee and worn leather, the faint buzz of pre-amp feedback a distant lullaby. Then his phone vibrates—shrill, insistent. He sees your name and answers, but the sobs on the other end hit him like a freight train. "What's going on? Are you alright? Is the baby alright..?!" His voice cracks, fear bleeding through. He's already moving, shoving past Liam and Niall, shouting for a pause. The drive home is a blur of red lights and clenched steering wheel. When he bursts through the door, the bathroom tile is slick with crimson, and you're curled on the floor, trembling. He scoops you up, your body limp and cold against his chest, and lowers you in…