Harry Styles Tumblr OneShots

Second Best

Where y/n is second best, and the fans are first.

The argument had started so petty in the beginning that neither of you could really remember the root of it. But a few hours later and you were still surrounded by the same four walls which had cruel words and unforgivable comments etched into them, screams echoing inside the apartment, and it's all just an evil reminder of the breakdown you're both experiencing.

"Well what do you expect me to believe, Harry?! You were photographed leaving her hotel room, don't give me the 'I didn't sleep with her bullshit'" you spit at him, waving the black and white printed two week old article in front of his face before slamming it down onto the kitchen island.

"Yeh can't give me a break fo' five fucking minutes can you?" he scoffs, his lips turning into a sarcastic smirk. "I barely walk through the door of a World Tour and yeh already 'avin' a go at me, jumping to your ridiculous conclusions!"

"That still doesn't answer my question" you tell him, your bottom lip trembling at his words.

"Oh spare me the fuckin' waterworks (y/n)!" he yells, his fist slamming onto the marble counter beside him. "Yeh tears won' let yeh get yeh own way this time" he assures you as his breathing becomes more ragged.

"My way?" you ask in disbelief. "Are you fucking serious? When has this relationship ever been about me, Harry? Huh? You tell me the last time I took priority in this relationship! I never get my own way because I'm too busy supporting you and your dreams!"

There's a silence that engulfs the large kitchen in the apartment you share together, and you feel so small, so fucking tiny, as you watch your life with Harry unfold dramatically before your eyes, standing helplessly in the middle of the fallout.

"That's not true" he whispers, his voice almost broken. Almost. "I give yeh everythin' in this relationship. Yeh want a new handbag? Yeh have it. Yeh want new shoes? Yeh have 'em. Spendin' money on yeh has never been a problem, (Y/N) and yeh know that. I always prioritise you."

You emit a breathy laugh and pinch the bridge of your nose, the other hand resting on your hip as you try and steady yourself. "This isn't about the money, H" you tell him seriously in an attempt to make him understand. "You're always so kind and generous. You do give me everything I want, everyone can see that. But I never ask for any of those things, ever."

"So what do you mean, then?" he asks with a frown.

"I mean, Harry, that when I need you, you're not there!"

"Oh well I'm sorry for working all the hours God sends to earn money to buy you things!" he spits aggressively.

"I'd rather have no money, Harry!" you shout back, tears now streaming down your face uncontrollably. "I'd rather you have no money but have you here for me when the fans are sending me hate, or when the media have printed yet another article analysing everything about me and telling the world how I'm never going to be good enough for you. I'd rather have no money but have you at home with me so as we can actually be a couple" you cry.

"And how many times do I phone yeh, eh? The rest of the band are out gettin' smashed after a show and I've got a sobbin' girlfriend on the phone! I'm always there for yeh!" he bellows. "It's not my fault yeh riddled with anxiety!"

"Don't you dare use that against me, you bastard!" you scream.

"Yeh know I'm there for yeh! I always text and phone yeh, I check yeh takin' yeh meds!" he says defensively as he folds his arms across his chest.