In the clear yet?, good.

The one with all the London shots

**the way I forgot to press publish on this... 🫣**

"You could have said no", she said as she reached out and took a clean mug out of the kitchen cabinet and heard him scoff on the other side of the phone line.
"That is easy for you to say, Miss everything I touch turns to gold".

She rolled her eyes and walked towards the kettle.

"You talk like you are not talented and pretty successful. Like you did not win a Grammy a couple months ago. If you feel uneasy, you shouldn't agree to it", he blushed at the compliment and reflected on her words.

His PR and management had insisted it was vital to keep him "relevant" even during his most needed break - after an insane tour and promo schedule - which translated into daily "casual" walks and bike rides around London busiest roads, either with James, or with his new rumoured girlfriend, or with new collaborators.

He would have much preferred to stay hidden away in his Italian villa. Or lay low somewhere where there were not hundreds of people around him with phones, ready to take a shot that will be doing the rounds on Twitter and other media in less than an hour.
Hence why he probably looked miserable in all the pictures.

"Glenne asked me to help her settle down, its her first play in London and... she is a nice girl, I like her. And well, I am not that busy anyway to not lend a hand".

She eyed her iPad on the kitchen isle, open on an article about him and his new crush. Pretty standard PR wording.

"I thought that was the point, to not be busy and take care of yourself " she said leaving the sentence hanging and avoiding all mentions of "she".

It was hard for him to admit it but he struggled with the idea of not being on top of the game.
He still feared it could all be easily taken away from him.
He had witnessed how time off, rumours, bad press or even a bad interview could lead to full on successful colleagues being cancelled or dismissed.

Nothing is guaranteed, and being good at what you do is not enough anymore, you have to make sure you are front page, and you have the best team to support you, and ensure you are constantly on the right side of public opinion, while making enough cash for the industry to invest back in you.

The woman on the phone to him was not a stranger to all these dynamics. She had survived countless attempts at ruining her career and cancelling her, and as of now, she still had to put up with the occasional cruel rumour or bad piece, or some executive trying to screw her over... and in all honesty he saw himself as light years away from her level of business masterminding and talent, so he felt vulnerable to failure.

"I know if I vanish for a while my real fans will be there, no matter...", he reflected.
"And the half of mine that still like you", she joked with him, "and that's loads of them, Styles".
He scoffed and she continued, "but they would pick me over you in a heartbeat, so make sure to be nice to me". She warned him lightly.

"I'm media trained and certified, when have I not?", he smiled.
And they both settled into a comfortable silence. Her enjoying her tea, him laying back on his sofa, staring at the paper wall.

He broke it first.
"I am just worried everything I accomplished will fizzle out. There's still loads of bad press around and ...",
"you thought this may help clear it all out"...
"yes... " he answered.

She took a sip of her tea and sat up on the kitchen stool.
"Can I be honest? Like blunt honest without you getting upset about it?"

He chuckled, "is that not what you have always done?"

"Yes, and last time we ended up not talking to each other for over 2 years so I am just covering my back here".

He did not always react well to her bluntness. Specially when it made him face his flaws and question himself, he had not been very good with that in the past.
He appreciated her honesty now.
Painful or not, it was refreshing having someone who told you what they really thought truth, not what you needed to hear so you did as they wanted you to, no secret agenda with Taylor.
"Go on". He agreed.

"Ok, the US press, usual haters, will always pick on what you do, that is part of the deal, so there will be someone raining on your parade always, regardless", she paused but he said nothing so she continued. "It may feel like you are losing control of your career if you stop for a while, but you wanted this, so you could ready yourself for the next big thing", another pause and more silence.

He hummed softly to acknowledge her words and she continued.

"So, You are not going to gain anyone's respect or admiration through staged pap walks, H. So rest, if you need to, take your time to make the best album you've ever made, and they will have no choice but to respect you then".

She couldn't see him as he pinched his nose with his hand, and bit his lower lip at her last statement.
She was right, she was most probably right, he thought, and he agreed he needed to make a better album, pressure of his last success looming over him, but... there were so many people involved, so many people who depended on him somehow, he didn't see his way out of this.

"Harry?"...
"Here, processing how annoyingly right you always are".
She rolled her eyes at his words, "if only". A wild idea running through her head then.
"If worse comes to worst, you can always sing with me", she joked.
And it was his time to roll his eyes then. "Yeah, sure".
And she laughed heartedly, at his unaffected tone.
He was deep in thought still.

"H", she said after a while, "you'll never be not relevant. Not with those dimples of yours, trust me".
And he smiled then, visibly relaxing, "it's just the dimples right?", he teased.
"Yeah, mostly", she joked back.

"Got a lot to think about", he sighed.
"You will figure it out, Styles, you always do", she encouraged him.
"Thanks, Swift"
"Anytime, babe", she added joyously, and he softly chuckled.
He missed her, as much as he could allow himself to.