Harry Styles Blurbs (Reader Insert)

Genuine

Harry had a habit of keeping you close.

Always, but most especially when it came to being out in public. The fans, well, it was no surprise that despite their dedication they were a bit much at times. Not just with their words, but their actions too. He wanted to protect you from it, because as much as he loved his fans, he loved you more.

He kept you tucked tightly to his side whenever he could, whether it was you two grabbing some food or simply leaving for a quick stroll, he didn't like you being too far away. It was this fear that had kept him from admitting his feelings to you and from taking the jump from really good friends to significant others. His life was crazy, and he didn't want that to affect you. Even when you two had been the best of friends, he had kept you hidden from the public eye. You were his, and his alone, private, a hidden treasure of sorts and he wasn't quite ready to share you with anyone else, let alone the world.

Even today, he's gripping your hand a bit too tightly as you struggle to keep up with his long strides. Admittedly, it's a bit crazier than usual. It's one of the boys' biggest concerts on this tour, which is exactly why Harry had insisted on flying you out for it. It's not that you hadn't seen the boys perform before, you had. You'd been backstage at the X factor and with Harry every step of the way since then. However, you had never been to a show in the U.S., and Harry knew better than to listen to your protests of the plane ticket being too expensive. "Doesn't matter, love. Want yeh here."

It really came as no surprise then, that the fans are lined up outside the hotel in a gregorious multitude, and that the roped polls and army of men dressed in black and appointed to your protection looked significantly tiny in comparison. The concert isn't until tomorrow, the boys getting a much needed day of rest before. Or, they had planned.

You can't help but look around in awe at all the commotion. Despite the lack of red carpet under your feet, you feel like you are indeed walking one. The fans are screaming left and right, startling bright signs waving around carelessly in exchange for even a second of the boys' attention. There's crying too, a lot in fact. You can hear it from all different directions as breathless pleas and sobs echo back and forth around you. The other boys were already inside the hotel lobby, behind the glass doors and away from the quiet roar of the crowd. They had opted to make Harry and you sit in the very back seats that the car offered, something about not wanting to lose lunch being their reason. Harry's still stringing you along, mindful that you're taking it all in but hurrying to get the pair of you inside as one of the bodyguards on his right is talking to him about god knows what. His head is low as he listens intently to what the man is saying. When Harry's career had first taken off, he would come home every once in

awhile and be ecstatic about the fans, telling you stories about how heartfelt they were. It was so endearing to watch him, his green eyes alight as he recalled to you the moments that stood out to him in the sea of press releases and talk shows and signings. As time went on, though, it wasn't that his stories diminished but rather the light in his eyes did. He still had lots to tell you, but you knew Harry well enough to know something was wrong under the surface.

"Already tired of the fame, Styles?" You had teased him with a quirk of your eyebrow.

His head had snapped up from his phone at that, eyebrows furrowed and forehead creased. "No. Never. Yeh know that, love. S'just..." He mumbled, trailing off as he closed his eyes and ran a hand down his face.

You had frowned at that, leaning across the booth and grabbing his wrist in your fingers.

"Harry, what is it?" You ask, dragging his hand away from his face. He sighs, opening the tired eyes you had been avoiding to acknowledge since he came back.