Because Hearts Get Broken

F*ck it, Styles

The afternoon sun dips low and Harry is still feeling determined to confront her. He manages to persuade one of her team members, a discreet and reliable ally, to arrange access for him to the backstage area of the venue.

The arrangement is carefully orchestrated, and he is driven in through a less circulated entrance to avoid drawing attention.

Inside the bustling venue, he moves quickly following her security through the labyrinth of corridors, his steps accompanied by the distant hum of pre-show activity.

His heart falters as he approaches her dressing room door, which is slightly ajar. With a deep breath, he pushes it open and steps inside.

She is seated at the dressing room vanity, ready for the first section of her show, her back to the door. When she notices a presence in the room she turns around and sees him. Her eyes widen in shock.

"Harry? What are you doing here?"

His heart sinks at the fear in her voice, but he pushes forward. "Hi, I had to talk to you. After what you said last night... I just couldn't leave it."

Her face shows surprise and concern. "This isn't a good time. I have a show to prepare for."

She stands up and glances around, silently signalling to her team. They quickly pick up on her cue, casting concerned glances at each other before quietly exiting the room, leaving Harry and her alone.

He steps in closer then, to face her, and his voice breaks through, tender but filled with a deep longing.

"You said you don't want to pretend anymore. What if I don't want to either?"

Taylor stares at him, reading his expression, her eyes narrowed, struggling to process the meaning of his words.

"What are you talking about? You're seeing someone else, Harry," she replies, her voice trembling. It's a diversion.

Harry's response is soft but firm, his gaze steady. "So are you," he says, his lips curling into a half-smile.

Taylor looks away, unable to meet his eyes. He can almost hear the gears turning in her brain.

Harry continues, his voice laden with regret, "I don't think I ever really got over you. I convinced myself I had because I thought that was it for us. But if you still feel something..."

She stares at her feet then and he loses track of what he was saying... he sighs. "Taylor, is there any point in me stopping pretending too?" He asks bluntly.

She lifts her face to look at him, feeling her whole body on edge, affected by his proximity. Every ounce of her long-buried feelings surfaces, and with every second that passes while he remains there, she grows more anxious and moved.

"If there is, I'd love to get to know you again. I want to. But if there isn't, I'll leave the same way I came and pretend none of this happened. I know how," he adds, attempting a playful tone, though his eyes carry a serious glint.

She sits down again, struggling to fully grasp what is happening.

"I...I don't know if I can do this. You can't just say things like that and expect me to be okay with it. I'm not even sure if I'm ready to let you in my life again. I don't...". She hesitates, her voice faltering as she trails off.

They had ended things not because they didn't love each other, but because they were too young and naive to handle the overwhelming pain of their circumstances. Their relationship had felt doomed from the start.

Harry's heart aches at her words. He crouches down in front of her, his hands resting gently on her knees. He speaks, his voice soft.

"It was too much for us. I was young and hasty, and I didn't get things right." He looks at her, his eyes full of regret.

She blinks back tears, struggling to maintain her composure.

"But I loved you just as you were," he says, his voice breaking slightly. "I've wondered so many times what could have been if I had been ready." He reaches out and gently touches her hand.

Her eyes water as she looks at him.

"Do you ever wonder about that too?" he asks, his voice earnest.

She stares quietly at him as the first tears fall, wiping them away with her hand. "You're going to ruin my makeup," she sniffles, letting out a soft, self-deprecating laugh.

He watches her, his eyes filled with raw emotion, a shy smile playing at his lips. "Is that a yes?" he asks softly.

She reads the hope in his eyes and remembers how that same look and his smile used to calm her, and convince her that they could make it for as long as they stayed together.

When they were good, it was the happiest she'd ever been. She sees the boy, the young man, she once loved and lost to the chaos of their lives. She wonders if it was merely a matter of timing and if now could be the right time.

And for a brief moment, she lets go and sets aside all her fears and doubts.

"Oh, fuck it, Styles," she says giving in.

And with that, she leans in and kisses him softly.

Her lips meet his as if she is tentatively rediscovering their connection, wondering if it is still there. She tastes sweeter than he can remember, and her softness floods his senses. Harry's hands find her neck, pulling her closer with a desperate intensity as he deepens the kiss, his mouth hungry for the lost intimacy they once shared.

She moans softly against his lips before pulling back, her eyes wide with shock at the intensity of her own reaction.

"Shit," she says, breathless and surprised by her body's response. She can't believe she had forgotten the electric sensation of kissing him.

"Shit, yeah," Harry echoes her astonished words with a hopeful smile. His thumb running over her cheek.

A loud knock on the door interrupts them, followed by a voice calling her name. It is time for her to get on stage.

Harry is quick on his feet and grabs her phone from the vanity, handing it to her. "Here," he says, watching as she unlocks it. He takes the phone back and adds his address to his contact details.

"I'll be waiting for you," he says softly.

The knock on the door comes louder this time. Harry leans in for one last, tender kiss before straightening up. He gives her a final, lingering look, full of promise, before walking out, leaving Taylor to prepare for her performance.