Harry Styles Oneshots

Fading into you

The crisp evening air swept through the streets of London, cutting through the crowd outside the small, intimate venue where Harry Styles was performing that night. You pulled your jacket tighter around you, the faint glow of neon signs reflecting off the puddles from the earlier rain. Your friend had convinced you to go to the gig, saying it would be a fun, impromptu way to spend the evening. But you weren't entirely convinced. You weren't even sure you were in the right mindset for a concert.

But then you saw him.

The crowd around you had parted, like a wave pushing against the shore, and standing on the other side was a man that you could never quite place—except that you knew, deep down, you had seen him before. His chestnut curls fell around his face in soft waves, the occasional strand catching the light as he turned slightly. His smile was unmistakable, familiar in the most unexpected way. Harry Styles.

You blinked, unsure if your eyes were playing tricks on you. It had been months since you'd seen Harry—months since you'd last heard his laugh, felt the warmth of his presence in the chaotic whirlwind of his life. After everything that happened between you two, you never imagined you'd see him again, at least not like this.

And yet, here he was, standing a few feet away, looking every bit the rock star but still grounded in a way that was uniquely Harry. His eyes caught yours almost instantly.

For a moment, everything seemed to stop. The noise around you faded, the chatter of fans, the laughter, the clinking of glasses—it all seemed to dissolve into a single breathless pause.

"Y/N," Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper. The way he said your name, it was soft but laced with something more—something deeper.

You froze, your heart racing in your chest. It had been so long, you hadn't expected to feel anything, but here you were—feeling everything. All the emotions you thought you'd buried under layers of time and distance came rushing back in an instant.

"H-Harry?" you stammered, unsure if you should smile or turn away, unsure if your heart was ready for what was about to unfold.

His smile widened, and there it was again—the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room, as if nothing else mattered.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you here," he said, his voice soft, warm with that unmistakable hint of charm. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

You nodded, unable to speak for a moment. The silence between you was heavy, but in a way that felt comfortable, like a familiar song playing in the background. The type of silence only shared between two people who had once known each other deeply—maybe too deeply.

"I didn't know you were... you know, performing tonight," you finally managed to say, your voice shaking slightly, though you tried to hide it. It felt strange, so strange, to be standing here with him again. You had spent so many nights thinking of what you'd say if this moment ever came, but now that it had arrived, your mind went blank.

Harry chuckled, the sound deep and melodic, and his gaze softened as if reading you like an open book. "Well, I didn't expect to see you either. Funny how life works, isn't it?"

You met his eyes again, and for a second, it was like nothing had changed. But of course, everything had changed. There was a time when you and Harry had been inseparable—when the world had seemed so simple. But time, distance, and the inevitable pull of his career had scattered everything you thought was certain.

"So... how have you been?" Harry asked, his voice holding a genuine curiosity, but there was a trace of uncertainty too. He was always good at hiding his emotions, but you could tell. The way his lips twitched nervously. The slight tilt of his head.

You hesitated, unsure of how much to say. How much was too much? It had been months, and yet, you felt like you were picking up right where you left off, as if no time had passed at all.

"I've been... okay. You know, life's been busy. And... and I've missed London, I guess," you said, forcing a small smile. "How about you? Still busy taking over the world?"

He chuckled again, the familiar sound echoing in your ears like a distant memory. "Something like that. But yeah, it's been... a lot. Honestly, it feels weird to be back. But it's good to see you." His eyes softened, the playfulness fading into something more intimate. "Really good."

The tension in the air shifted, and for a moment, the two of you just stood there, looking at each other, letting the past and the present collide in a whirlwind of unspoken words.

"Would you like to... catch up?" he asked after a pause, his voice barely above a murmur. "I mean, if you're not too busy with the whole... crowd."

You glanced around at the sea of fans, some of whom were still trying to get a glimpse of Harry, but none of that seemed to matter now. The world could've spun on without you, and it wouldn't have made a difference. Because in this moment, it was just you and him again.

"I'd like that," you replied, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the brisk evening air.

Chapter Two: Conversations at Midnight

The two of you made your way to a quieter part of the venue. It was a small area behind the stage, a tiny room where the scent of sweat, soundcheck equipment, and stale coffee mixed in the air. Harry led the way, his hand brushing against yours briefly, a gesture so innocent, yet you could feel the sparks that lingered in its wake.

Sitting down on a worn leather couch, you both found a little bit of peace away from the chaos of the concert. The crowd's distant roar, the hum of the guitars in the background—it all felt so distant here.

"So, tell me," Harry began, after a long pause, his voice low and sincere, "what have you been up to? How's everything going?"

You shrugged, trying to keep the conversation light, even though you could feel the weight of the years between you two pressing down. "Same old. I'm working, trying to figure things out, y'know?"

He nodded thoughtfully, his eyes tracing the curve of your face, as if memorizing every detail. "I get that. I mean, things have been... chaotic for me, but not all bad, y'know? I've been thinking about a lot of stuff lately, especially about... us."

The words hit you like a wave, and you had to take a moment to compose yourself. You weren't sure if you were ready to dive back into this. The memories of what happened between you two had been complicated, to say the least.

"You've been thinking about us?" you repeated, a bit incredulously, trying to keep your voice steady.

He looked away for a second, running his hand through his hair, before meeting your eyes again. "Yeah. I mean, I didn't think I would... but I did. I missed you. A lot. More than I let on."

Your heart gave a jolt at his words. "Harry, I—" you started, but he interrupted you gently, his tone earnest, like he was afraid of what you might say.

"I don't expect anything, okay? I just... wanted you to know," he said, his voice softer now, tinged with vulnerability. "That I... I never stopped caring."

The weight of his confession hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. You just sat there, the sounds of the concert faint in the background, as your minds raced with everything unsaid.

You had so many questions—so many things you needed to know, but in this moment, you realized something: Harry Styles, for all his fame and success, was still the same guy you once knew. The same guy who, beneath the glamour, had a heart that had always been soft toward you.

And maybe—just maybe—that was enough to start over.