Harry:
The bar is crowded, warm bodies pressing in from all sides, and the music is loud enough to make conversation nearly impossible. You're nursing a drink at the counter, your mind wandering as you glance at your phone. Harry is here, somewhere, probably with the rest of the 1D boys in a corner booth, laughing and joking like always. You've never really understood his hot-and-cold behavior toward you. Sometimes he's charming and friendly, but most days, he's distant or downright snarky.
You sigh, pushing the thought aside, when a man sidles up next to you. He's tall, a little too confident, and his cologne is overwhelming. "Hey there," he says, leaning in closer than necessary. "You look like you could use some company."
You smile politely, shaking your head. "I'm fine, thanks."
But he doesn't take the hint. "Aw, don't be like that. A pretty girl like you shouldn't be sitting alone." His tone is playful, but there's an edge to it that makes your stomach twist.
"I'm waiting for someone," you reply firmly, hoping he'll back off.
But he's persistent, reaching out to touch your arm as he leans in closer. You instinctively take a small step back, but the crowded bar doesn't give you much space to move. "Don't be shy," he says, his breath hot against your skin.
Just as your discomfort grows, a familiar voice rings out from behind you. "She said she's fine, mate."
You look up, startled, to see Harry standing there, his green eyes dark with barely contained anger. He's got that quiet, simmering intensity about him, the kind that makes people take a step back without realizing why.
The man straightens, his bravado faltering slightly. "Just talking," he says, raising his hands defensively.
Harry's jaw tightens, but his voice stays even. "Yeah, well, she doesn't want to talk to you. So, move along."
The guy glances at Harry and scoffs. "What's it to you, man? She's a big girl. I can talk to her if I want." He smirks and takes a step closer, clearly not intimidated.
Harry doesn't flinch. "I don't think she wants you to, though," he says coolly. "And I'm pretty sure you don't want to make this a problem."
The guy sneers, clearly not understanding how close he is to crossing a line. "You think just because you're a big-time superstar you can tell me what to do?" he spits, looking Harry up and down. "Get over yourself."
The man suddenly grabbing your wrist. "She can speak for herself."
The air shifts immediately. Harry steps in front of you, his body shielding yours as he stares the man down. "Let go of her," he says, his voice low and deadly.
When the man doesn't move fast enough, Harry doesn't wait. His hand shoots out, prying the man's fingers off your wrist with a force that makes the man stumble back.
"Touch her again, and you'll regret it," Harry growls.
At first, the man looks like he's going to push it further, but the warning in Harry's eyes is unmistakable. The guy finally grumbles something under his breath, giving you one last look of disdain before turning and stumbling away into the crowd.
You breathe a sigh of relief, your heart still racing, and Harry steps in front of you, his eyes scanning over you for any signs that the situation shook you up. "Are you okay?" he asks quietly, voice softer now, though there's still an underlying tension in his tone.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you." You nod, trying to steady your breathing.
"Why did you do that?" you ask, unable to keep the confusion out of your voice.
