Lightbulb (h.s.)

6- "I miss her."

I blushed madly as Harry finally made his way offstage, right towards me.

Smiling, I was spun around in his strong arms.

"What was that for?"

"I'm glad you came."

Right as he said that, Louis walked up behind him and clubbed him over the head playfully.

"I wanted to tell you not to say that," he said slyly.

"I wanted to tell you it isn't all about them," Harry replied, laughing cheerily, me leaning into his tight hug. I grinned aside him, the sparkling gems of his joy-filled eyes causing a light flutter, a falter in my smile.

I just wish I could stare at the living, breathing him all day. Of course I couldn't; that would be awkward and just plain weird.

But I can always wish.

"So, sweetie. How was it?" Harry asked me, bending slightly and speaking softly into my ear, above the screams of the exiting crowd.

"I loved it," I smiled. "I can even excuse being dragged on stage in front of thousands because I'll definitely be mauled by my now-envious 'friends'," I said jokingly, air-quoting with emphasis as I said "friends."

He laughed openly at this before dragging me into the dressing room, through the post-concert bustle.

Harry led me behind him, and I couldn't help but notice how everyone in his path moved around him, but when it came to me, the crew-workers jostled and bumped me around. One even pushed me; I just managed to catch my footing before Harry dared notice. Knowing I shouldn't let him know of the shoving I was being put through, I kept silent. And for good reason.

Who knew what he would do? He would probably be angry at this disrespect of me, or yet again maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he'd be angry with me for complaining. Or, possibly, he wouldn't care. The latter makes the most sense.

On the social ladder, I'm on the first rung while he's already on the diving board, and his security guards, management, and crew are waiting for their turn. Nobody here should care about me, although somehow Harry still did. And that, above everything, still appalled me.

"Oops, sorry," I squeaked for the fifteen millionth time as someone ran directly into my side after waiting for Harry to be out of her way.

I looked up into her eyes, her pale green eyes, and saw her dark brunette hair, her freckles, and although her orbs were shined over by glasses, I was thrown aback by her shocking resemblance to my Mum.

Turning away, I let out a strangled sob. With the hand that wasn't gripping onto Harry's for dear life, I wiped away the few tears.

It was far too soon for me to think about her, her voice, her smile, her laugh....

No. I won't cry. Not again, not here. Not in front of Harry. I won't cry. I won't cry. Won't cry....

Despite my constant internal chanting, by the time we got to the safety of the dressing room, I was in full-on tears. I couldn't even hope that Harry wouldn't notice; he'd have to be blind and deaf not to realize I was sobbing.

"What's wrong?" he asked tentatively, as if I would break any second. And maybe I would.

"I just... miss her."

Harry's crystal green eyes looked up into mine as he knelt in front of me, I now in one of those blue plastic chairs you see in schools.

"Today has been a long one. I know, sweetheart. C'mere," he stated softly, bringing me once again into his warm embrace. I hugged him right back.