Falling | h.s

fifty-three

JANIE'S POV

2021.

Golden. Everything was utterly golden.

The color of my dress. The eyeshadow smeared across my eyelids. The thin material of his dress shirt. The bubbly drink in our glasses. The trophies he would hopefully carry home tonight. The band on my left ring finger. The light filtering in through the dressing room window.

The room was filled with people. Stylists were helping me into my dress as Jeff went over logistics with Harry. We had been getting ready for close to two hours now, and I had barely had the opportunity to speak to him. 

As a stylist holds up different earring options against my dress, I take a minute to just watch him. To soak in the moment. To try and memorize as many details as I could. I wanted to remember this day forever. 

His shirt wasn't buttoned yet, showing off his tattooed chest. His eyebrows were pulled together in concentration. Or, maybe in nervousness. His own stylist is asking her assistant which shoes she prefers with his shimmery suit. 

He was up for album of the year; that's no small feat. It was his first nomination of this caliber. 

He pulls his eyes up to meet mine and I see relief flood over his features. He looks as though he's been snapped out of whatever frenzy was going on inside his head. He cracks a small smile, soft and loving. And suddenly, everything else fades away. 

It's just me and him. 

"C'mere," I say, extending my arms to him, silencing out the background noise. 

He closes the space between us in three long steps and wraps his arms around my waist. He lowers his head to rest against my chest and lets out a slow breath. I raise my hands to his head and thread them through his hair, longer in length than usual. I hold him for a moment, his head resting gently on my chest.

"You deserve to be here, you know that right?" I clarify, scratching his scalp lightly in attempt to sooth his nerves. I see his hairstylist suck in a breath, realizing that she would have to re-style his hair as soon as our moment was over. 

"I know," he mumbles unconvincinly into my skin. 

"You have no reason to be nervous," I add and he lets out a shaky sigh. He pulls back after a moment, his eyebrows still creased. 

"But-"

"No buts. This is a phenomenal album. It would be weird if you weren't nominated," I reassure him and he nods a few times, trying to convince himself that I'm right. 

"I'm just nervous," he confesses the obvious and I hum in understanding. 

"Try to think of it like any other night. It's just another award show. Just another reason to get all dressed up," I attempt to calm his anxieties. "Plus, I'll be with you the whole time, right next to you." 

He nods more quickly at this, and I see his shoulders relax slightly. 

"You're right," he breathes, looking deep into my eyes. "I love you." 

"I love you more than you'll ever know," I smile, and cup his face between my hands. "And fuck, I am so goddamn proud of you." 

"I wouldn't be here without you," he says, love laced in his voice. I roll my eyes jokingly and lean forward to press a kiss to his nose. 

"You are extraordinary with or without me."

"But I'm better with you," he insists, making my heart flip flop in my chest. It's been over a year and every day he still makes me feel like a little girl with a schoolgirl crush.