Harry Styles Imagines

Groupie [1]

*Smut Warning*

He's yet to see her.

He's been running in circles, trying to spot her in backstage ever since closing the show. Even though he's sure he's seen her with his own eyes peeking from between the black curtains of backstage, he's now starting to think that tonight is playing him, and that she's actually back in London. Or maybe she just didn't like the show and decided to leave, Harry thinks, laughing at himself and how pathetic he sounds.

He finds Jeff on the phone, and Anthony is with him, his camera still on his neck.

"Have you seen her?" He asks Jeff after greeting Anthony.

He doesn't look up from the stack of papers, though, and only shakes his head, continuing his conversation on the phone.

He itches his neck, rubs the sweat further into his skin nonchalantly, and turns to Anthony. "What about you," he says, hands shaking. "Have you seen... a girl?"

Anthony laughs at that.

"A girl? I've seen lots of girls!"

"No, ah... backstage? Someone? Looking for me or somethin'?"

"Nope, sorry, dude."

"Fuck sake," he murmurs under his breath and keeps walking, turning right towards the green room.

He finds everyone there, having drinks.

Everyone but her.

"Harry," he nods at Harry Lambert. "Have you seen her? I swear I saw you hiding behind the curtain– she's trying to fuck with my head again, I swear."

"I did."

"You did?"

Harry Lambert nods, grinning at him before he focuses on something behind Harry.

He turns there.