Harry:
You stepped into the hotel elevator, pressing the button for the lobby as you adjusted the strap of your bag. The doors were about to close when a hand shot through the gap, forcing them open. Before you could process what was happening, someone slipped inside, breathing slightly heavier from rushing.
And that someone was Harry Styles. Your brain short-circuited for a solid three seconds.
"Sorry," he mumbled, flashing you a quick, polite smile as he stepped further inside. He was wearing a hoodie, sunglasses perched on his head, his curls slightly messy as if he'd just rolled out of bed. The scent of expensive cologne and something subtly sweet filled the air between you.
Your mouth felt dry. Harry Freaking Styles was in an elevator with you. You stared ahead, trying not to be weird, your heart hammering as the numbers above the door slowly ticked downward.
Until they didn't. With a sudden jolt, the elevator lurched to a stop. A mechanical whir and then silence.
Your stomach dropped. You blinked at the unmoving doors, at the unchanged number on the screen. The emergency lights flickered on, casting the space in an eerie glow.
"No, no, no, no," you whispered, stepping back as panic started creeping into your chest. This wasn't happening.
"Ah, brilliant," Harry muttered, pressing a button experimentally. Nothing happened. He sighed, glancing over at you. "You okay?"
You let out a shaky breath. "I... I don't... I think... NO!"
Your hands felt clammy. Your chest tightened. The walls of the elevator suddenly seemed way too close, way too small.
"Hey, hey, hey," Harry's voice cut through your spiraling thoughts. He moved cautiously, lowering himself to sit cross-legged on the floor. "Come here. Sit with me."
You hesitated. But your knees were weak, and the idea of sitting sounded much better than collapsing, so you slid down opposite him, still breathing fast.
"Alright," he said gently. "You're okay. It's just a stupid elevator. These things get stuck all the time. Boring, really." He gave a small smile. "I mean, it's not like it's plummeting to our doom."
You made a strangled noise. "Not helping."
"Right, okay. Bad joke." He cleared his throat. "Let's try something else. What's your name?"
You blinked at him. "You want to know my name?"
"Well, yeah. If we're gonna be trapped, I'd rather not call you 'elevator person.'"
A small, breathless laugh escaped you. You told him your name, and he tells you his name as if you don't know who he is.
"Okay, that's nice," he said. "Now, tell me something random about you. Anything."
You frowned, still trying to regulate your breathing. "Like what?"
"Like... what's your go-to comfort food? Or a weird fun fact about yourself?"
You sniffled slightly, thinking. "I, um... I've been a fan of you for so long!"
Harry grinned, leaning back against the elevator wall. "Oh yeah? Since when?"
Your cheeks burned. "Since, like... the X Factor days. I had posters, t-shirts, everything."
His eyebrows raised in amusement. "So, you were a hardcore Directioner?"
You groaned, covering your face with your hands. "Please don't make fun of me."
He laughed, a warm, genuine sound that made your stomach flutter. "No, never! I think that's adorable."
