Harry Styles Oneshots

Kiss it better

The soft hum of the city outside felt distant, a mere backdrop to the tension that hung in the small apartment. The low lights of the living room barely illuminated the room, leaving the corners in shadow. It was a quiet, still evening, but inside YN's mind, the world was anything but peaceful.

She had been feeling drained for days—weeks, maybe. The constant grind of work, the never-ending pressure to keep everything together, the emotional exhaustion that seemed to cling to her like a second skin. Every day, it felt harder to keep up the act, to pretend she was fine, to smile through the haze of her thoughts.

Her phone lay on the coffee table, the notifications flashing in and out of view, but she didn't care enough to check them. Texts, emails, calls—it was all too much. She could hear the faint sound of Harry moving around in the kitchen, probably making them something to eat, but the thought of food didn't even register.

She'd been pushing herself too hard for too long, and it was finally catching up with her. She could feel the weight of it all, settling in her chest like a heavy rock.

Harry had noticed, of course. He was perceptive, more than anyone she knew. And when he'd come home earlier, the first thing he'd done was gently ask if she was okay. She'd smiled and reassured him, like she always did, but the truth was far from it. She hadn't been okay for a while.

He had his own way of reading her—he could tell when her smile didn't quite reach her eyes, when her voice was quieter than usual, when her shoulders were slumped under invisible burdens. And tonight, she knew he could tell. He didn't press her, though. He just... gave her space.

But that didn't mean he wasn't going to try to help. Not with someone like Harry.

YN stared down at her hands, twisting the soft fabric of her sweater between her fingers. The overwhelming weight of everything that had been building up inside her made it difficult to think clearly. It was like there was a cloud in her mind, and every attempt to reach through it only left her more exhausted.

A gentle knock on the doorframe broke her from her thoughts, and she glanced up to find Harry standing there. His features were soft, his eyes reflecting concern but not the kind that would push her to talk if she wasn't ready. His arms were crossed loosely over his chest, a quiet calm to him that only made her want to curl up in his arms more.

"Hey," he said, his voice soft and reassuring. "How are you doing?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but the words caught in her throat. She wasn't fine. She didn't want to lie to him, but how could she explain this... feeling that had settled so deeply inside her?

Harry took a step forward, his gaze never leaving her face. His presence was soothing, his warmth radiating across the room as he knelt in front of her, bringing himself to her level. He didn't ask her to talk; instead, he just rested his hand on hers, a gentle gesture that said everything she needed to hear. He wasn't going anywhere, not until she was ready.

"YN," he said softly, his voice laced with tenderness. "You don't have to tell me everything right now. But if you want to, I'm here. I'm always here, love."

Her breath caught in her throat, and she looked down at their intertwined hands. How did he always know exactly what to say?

"I... I don't know what's wrong with me, Harry," she confessed quietly, her voice barely a whisper. "I feel like... like I'm drowning, but I'm just stuck here. I'm so tired."

He didn't let go of her hand. Instead, he gave her a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing over her knuckles as though he was trying to soothe away her tension.

"Hey," he murmured. "You don't have to carry all of this on your own. Not when I'm here."

She swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. "I don't know how to let it go, Harry," she admitted, her voice trembling. "It just feels like I've been holding my breath for so long, and I don't know how to exhale."

Harry's gaze softened even more, his lips curling into a small, understanding smile. He moved closer, wrapping his arms around her gently, as though he was afraid she might break if he held too tightly. But it wasn't about the pressure; it was about the comfort.

"Do you want to just rest for a bit?" he asked, his voice a low hum against her ear. "I'll be right here with you."

YN nodded, too tired to argue. She didn't need words right now. She needed this—his closeness, his steady heartbeat, the warmth of his presence. Without a word, Harry helped her stand and guided her to the couch, making sure she was comfortable before settling beside her. He didn't say anything else, didn't ask her to talk about what was going on inside her mind. He just held her, his arm draped over her shoulders, his fingers gently running through her hair.

The weight of the world didn't disappear, not yet. But slowly, the tension in her body began to ease. Harry's steady presence was like an anchor, grounding her when everything else felt like it was slipping away. His touch, the soft press of his lips against her forehead, was like a balm to her soul.

Time passed in quiet, unspoken moments. Harry didn't try to fix anything; he didn't feel the need to fill the silence with words. He knew that sometimes, the best way to help someone was to simply be there, to offer a space where they could breathe without the pressure of expectations.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the rhythm of his breathing, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. There was something so reassuring about it, something so peaceful.

After a while, she felt Harry shift beside her, his hand lifting to gently touch her chin, guiding her face to meet his. His green eyes held her gaze, warm and sincere.

"YN," he said softly, his voice low and soothing, "I know it's not easy. I know it feels heavy right now. But you don't have to carry it all by yourself. Whatever you're going through, we'll get through it together."

She blinked, fighting back the swell of emotions that threatened to spill over. His words were simple, but they were everything she needed to hear in that moment. She reached up, touching his cheek, and smiled—a small, tender smile, but one that felt like the first real one in days.

Harry's hand cupped the back of her neck, and he leaned in closer. His lips hovered just above hers, his breath warm against her skin. The world outside felt even more distant now, all that mattered was the feeling of his touch, the way his presence filled the empty spaces inside her.

And then, without another word, Harry closed the gap between them, his lips meeting hers in a kiss so soft and gentle that it almost felt like a promise.

It wasn't a kiss of passion or urgency, but one of tenderness, of understanding. He kissed her slowly, carefully, as though he were trying to erase the exhaustion from her body with each gentle press of his lips. He kissed away the weight of the world that had been pressing on her shoulders. He kissed away the exhaustion, the doubt, the pain that she'd been carrying for so long.

YN let herself melt into him, her hands sliding up to his shoulders, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping her grounded. And in that moment, she allowed herself to feel—really feel—what it was like to be cared for without the pressure to be strong, to be perfect. Just to be.

Harry's lips pulled away for a moment, his forehead resting against hers as he gazed into her eyes. "You don't have to fix everything on your own," he whispered, his voice so soft, so genuine. "I'm here. And I'll help you carry it, as much as you'll let me."

And for the first time in days, YN felt a sense of relief—a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

With Harry by her side, she knew she wasn't alone. She could breathe again.

And in that moment, she realized that sometimes, all it took to heal was the warmth of a touch, the kindness in someone's eyes, and the knowledge that no matter how tired or broken you felt, you were loved.