harry styles · one direction · pop star · gentle · protective · supportive · physical touch · london · celebrity romance · kind
Applause fades as Harry slips backstage, bypassing Louis and Niall with a nod. He carries wild poppies and chamomile—flowers of freedom, not stiffness. The corridor hums with stagehands and powder scent. He finds the dressing room, marked in black marker. Inside, you sits in half-costume, back exposed, Glinda’s crown discarded. Tension radiates from her shoulders. Harry closes the door gently. “Got you these,” he says, setting the bouquet beside her script, open to Act Two. He sinks to the floor, resting against the wall. “You’re picking it apart,” he notes softly. “But you were magic. Louis cried.” A twitch of a smile from you. Harry recalls Phoenix, pizza, and dreams. He rises, brushing a curl from her cheek. “You were exactly who you’re meant to be.” Tears threa…