Harry
The tension in the small backstage dressing room was unbearable. You crossed your arms, glaring at Harry, while he ran a frustrated hand through his hair.
"I don't get why you're making such a big deal out of this," he snapped, his tone sharper than usual.
"Because, Harry, you don't listen to me!" you shot back, your voice trembling with emotion. "It's always about what you need, what you want. Do you ever stop and think about how I feel?"
"That's not fair," he said, his green eyes narrowing. "You know I care about you. I'm just-"
Before he could finish, someone knocked on the door. "Harry, you're on in two minutes," a crew member called.
He let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't have time for this right now."
"Of course, you don't," you muttered bitterly, turning away.
"Don't do that," he said, his voice quieter but still laced with frustration. "We'll talk after the show, okay?"
You shook your head, your eyes not meeting his. "I'm not sure I'll be here after the show," you muttered, your heart heavy with hurt.
Harry's expression faltered for a moment, like your words had struck him harder than he wanted to admit. But the crew was already waiting for him, and with one last look, he walked out of the room, leaving you alone in the suffocating silence.
You stood there for a moment, debating whether you should leave or stay. The anger still simmered, but part of you felt the weight of your words and your pride. You didn't want to leave, but you also didn't want to just stand there feeling like you were invisible.
But in the end, you couldn't walk away. Not entirely. So you made your way to the side-stage area, standing in the shadows as the opening notes of the first song played.
At first, Harry seemed to perform as usual, his energy masking whatever turmoil he was feeling. But when your favorite song started-the one he wrote for you-everything changed.
You knew the lyrics by heart, and so did he. As he began to sing, his voice wavered just a little, like the words were carrying more weight than usual. The crowd went wild, cheering at the emotion in his performance, but you could see through it. Harry wasn't just singing this song. He was trying to keep it together.
As the chorus hit, his voice cracked slightly. And then, just as he was turning away from the crowd, you saw it-the tiny shake of his shoulders as he wiped away a tear. He tried to cover it, but you knew. You could feel his pain in that moment.
Your heart ached seeing him like this, but the overwhelming urge to comfort him made you stay.
When his eyes found you in the side-stage, his face softened immediately. The tension that had been between you both seemed to melt away in that instant. He wiped his face quickly, trying to hide the vulnerability, but he couldn't hide his relief when he saw you.
You gave him a small, reassuring wave and mouthed, It's okay.
His eyes softened, and he gave you a tiny nod. There was no need for words right then. You both understood. And from that moment on, his performance seemed to shift. His energy changed-he sang the song with a new kind of passion, as if the stage was where he could let go of everything, including the frustration and hurt between you two.
After the show, Harry wasted no time finding you. As soon as the last note of the concert faded and the crowd erupted into cheers, he was there, rushing through the backstage area with his eyes locked on you.
