To this day, Harry sometimes questioned if you were ever real. Sometimes he sits alone at home and wonders if all those nights with you were just a fever dream he had or a very trippy high. You didn't seem real. Nothing about you felt real. However, the hurt and pain Harry experienced because of you felt very real. It felt very real every day.
He first saw you at a club. He had just performed his new album for the first time and he was riding a high. Both metaphorically and physically. Someone had offered him molly at the club and he hadn't said no.
He saw you in the corner, leaning against a pillar as you slowly sipped on your drink, observing the scene before you. He thought you looked like a predator hunting for your prey. Now he realises how accurate that thought was. He also thought you looked beautiful, and the way the lights from the club hit your skin made you look like you were glowing, although that might have been the molly making it seem that way. You looked like an angel.
He continued to stare at you for a bit longer, begging silently for your swivelling eyes to land on his. And they did.
Gotcha, you thought.
He felt like he could breathe again. You smirked as you took in his dishevelled appearance. He knew he had caught your attention so he raised his eyebrows at you as you slowly walked across the club to him. Along the way, you said hi to a few people as you went and he felt his fist clench. He didn't want you talking to anyone, he wanted you all for himself. You approached him slowly, and he could see that your pupils were also huge. He was captivated by your eyes, he knew they held all your secrets, but you would never reveal any of them. He wanted to know more. You looked like an angel.
He smirked as you walked right up to him and then frowned as you walked straight past. He turned quickly on his heel to see you leaning against the bar, throwing him a glance over your shoulder.
"Gonna buy me a drink Harry?" you drawled. Your voice sounded heavenly. It was everything he'd hoped it be and more. You already had him completely wrapped around your finger. Right where you wanted him. He remembered he'd nodded dumbly before flagging down the bartender to get you a drink. He couldn't keep his eyes off you, they trailed up and down your body hungrily as if he couldn't quite believe you were real. His heart was thudding in his chest, it felt almost as loud as the primal beats of the music filling the small club.
Your drink arrived, and when it did, you picked it up before reaching down to grab his hand. When you touched him, he felt on fire. His hand closed around yours and fireworks exploded around him.
"Come dance," you had whispered sensually in his ear. He had basically dragged you onto the dance floor, wanting nothing more than to feel the weight of your body against his. Wanting to grab your hips and hold them tight as you both swayed along to the music. In sync. Together. As if your bodies were made for each other. He was already addicted to you and he couldn't get enough. He wanted more and more and every time your bum brushed the front of his crotch he actually thought he'd gone to heaven. He needed you and he needed you now. His eyes were blown wide with lust, and his lips parted slightly as if a moan was just about to escape from them. You knew all this of course, you just needed to make him really want you. Like, want you so bad he would happily drop everything else to be with you.
You got him there. Of course, you did. You always did.
It took all of half an hour for you and him to leave the club. You ran through the streets together, hand in hand, laughing into the wind as it whipped you both in the face. By the time you arrived at Harry's, both your cheeks were bright red. Your eyes were still huge and still held secrets. Your skin still glowed in the moonlight. You looked like an angel.
