harry styles imagines

maybe one day you'll call me - part one

the rain belted down on to your umbrella. your boots were wet from walking through puddles but you were unbothered. the city was a lot emptier once the rain had started. people scattered into anywhere they could keep dry. pubs and bars were full with social butterflies waiting for the weather to pass; you only had one bar in mind.
harry, your beautiful but absent ex-boyfriend, was playing for one night only in the scarfes bar in holborn. you missed him so dearly but until he made the effort with you, you kept your heart under control.
reaching the front door of the bar, you hesitated to enter. you could hear him, the way he ummed and ahhed as he spoke, the way he lightly strummed his guitar when he didn't know what else to with his hands. you looked through the large window, straight into the venue. harry was sat on a stool, on a stage, surrounded by people so focused on him.
he began to sing along to the soft strumming of his guitar.

"we haven't spoke since you went away."

the way he sung what he did was speaking to you, he was hurting. you could hear it, and although it wasn't crystal clear with you being stood outside, you could feel it.

"even my phone misses your call, by the way."

he hadn't yet seen you, but a large part of you wanted to stay discreet. you wanted to hear him for a little longer before you left again.