All My Love || Harry Styles

Chapter 28

Following Harry through the throngs of people feels like I'm being pulled into a gravitational field, unable to resist the force drawing me in. Even from behind, the confident roll of his shoulders and the determined pace of his steps hold an allure that's hard to deny. I keep a steady distance, not too close to be immediately noticed that we are walking together but close enough to keep him in my sight.

The chatter and laughter of the crowd become background noise, fading into a blur as my focus narrows solely on him. Every now and then, he pauses to offer a nod or a quick word in response to some congratulatory remarks, yet he never fully stops, seemingly on a mission to find a more private space.

I'm torn between a mix of anticipation and apprehension. What could he possibly have to say?

Harry leads the way into his dressing room, a space that's surprisingly personal given the transient nature of touring. Various items of clothing are scattered about, a few photographs pinned to the mirror, and a guitar case resting against the far wall. The room smells faintly of cologne and leather.

Taking a deep breath, I step inside. The door closes softly behind us, sealing off the noise and leaving a pressing silence. Harry runs a hand through his tousled hair, a clear sign of his nervousness. "Thanks for speaking to me," he starts, his voice low and slightly rough. "I know things between us have been... complicated."

Harry takes a seat on one of the couches, a heavy sigh escaping him as he runs his hands through his hair. I observe him for a moment, sensing the weight of whatever's burdening him. Choosing the couch opposite him, I take a seat, creating a tangible distance between us

His gaze meets mine, the stark lighting casting shadows over his features, giving him an even more intense demeanour. I cross my arms, a protective shield against the vulnerability that threatens to emerge.

"That's one way to put it," I remark, my tone edged with scepticism.

He exhales slowly, searching for the right words. "Lucy, I know I've been...difficult, and I owe you an explanation."

The room's atmosphere grows heavy, a weight settling between us as Harry's face turns serious, more so than I've ever seen before. His eyes search mine with an intensity that's almost unnerving.

He looks down, seemingly trying to find the right words, his fingers playing anxiously with the edge of his shirt. There's a weight to the atmosphere in the room, and for a moment, the only sound is the muted hum of activity outside.

"Lucy," he begins, his voice carrying a hint of desperation, "There are things I want to tell you, things that are bigger than both of us. Things that... complicate matters."

I can feel the frustration bubbling up, "Harry, I deserve to know. I deserve more than vague warnings and your hot and cold attitude."

He raises a hand to his face, covering his eyes for a moment as he collects himself. When he speaks, there's an earnestness to his voice that I've never heard before. "You need to be careful. It's not just about us anymore, it's about everything surrounding us."

I lean forward, trying to grasp his meaning, "What are you talking about?"

His gaze meets mine, and there's a raw pain in his eyes. "The way I've been acting, the way I've treated you, it's been deliberate. If people think I hate you, it's easier. It's easier to convince them of that lie than to let them see how I truly feel."

The implication hangs in the air between us. My heart races, trying to understand the layers of what he's saying.

"Why, Harry? Why go to such lengths?"