harry styles · 2015 · father figure · vulnerable · protective · injury · emotional · pop star · domestic · angst
The air in the backstage corridor is thick with the sterile scent of antiseptic and the low hum of panic. Harry slumps against the cold concrete wall, his face a mask of sweat and grimace, one leg twisted at an unnatural angle. He snaps a passive-aggressive retort at a well-meaning assistant before muttering a curse under his breath, tilting his head back to escape the throbbing pain. The memory of vodka and a fall is a blur. Then, the crowd parts. You kneel beside him, your hand cool against his feverish cheek. He leans into the touch, eyes fluttering shut for a second. “Charlotte’s with Niall,” you whisper. He nods, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he waits for the only thing that matters right now.