“Just stay behind me, ‘kay? I move your body behind mine, like a shield, as we prepare to walk outside into the masses. It’s customary for us to have hoards of paparazzi and fans waiting outside place we go, but lately, they’ve been getting pretty bold.

Apparently, because you’re the only girl in our band, they think they’re entitled to more…intimate details about your life. It’s ridiculous, and it’s gotten out of hand.

And it’s not just the reporters. It’s everyone. Since our band has left the teeny-bopper style and eased into an “edgier” one, all of us have to fit the bill. For me and the guys, it’s great. We actually get to dress like ourselves instead of the weird businesses casual they had us in before.

But for you? It’s different.

They went the more…risqué route with you. Lots of tops cut far too short, bottoms that hardly cover anything, and a new ‘persona’ that’s all about your physical image. And all of us have seen how deteriorating it’s been on you. Every question is about your dating life, your body, or gossip column shit. Instead of being asked, y’know, about the music we make?

The worst part is, there’s hardly anything I can do to protect you from it.

We’ve been dating for a few months, but it’s all very private. Niall’s the only other person who knows. It’s better this way. Lord knows the beating you’d take in the media, and the field day they’d have of questions for you about it. It’s good what we have now, and I intend to keep it that way.

I feel your hand gently grasp the back of my shirt as our security guards lead us outside the restaurant we’re at. The whole band was out for dinner tonight, so it’s bound to be a madhouse out there. I use the light touch from you to ground me.

As soon as the doors open, we’re blinded by the flashing lights. Screaming from fans and paparazzi fill our ears until they ring. Louis, Zayn and Liam walk in front of me, almost like a barricade pushing through. Niall is behind you, sandwiching you in. But that doesn’t stop them.

The jostling from the crowd is the worst, grabbing hands and eager brief touches. It’s almost violating and it makes me want to scream. And when I feel your grip on my shirt leave, turning my head back to look at you, I fear I just might.

A member in the crowd grabbed your arm, yanking you closer to them. I immediately stop walking and turn around fully. “Hey!” I yell, grabbing ahold of you myself. But the chaos doesn’t end there.

It happens so suddenly, none of us would’ve even noticed if someone didn’t yell out, “Hey! That pap just took a picture up her skirt!”

Now, I see red.

My heads on a swivel, trying to scope out the perpetrator. One man in the front looks particularly suspicious, gazing down at his camera. I step up to him without a second thought, knocking the camera out of his hands.

“Hey, dickwad! You take a picture up her skirt, huh?” I yell over all the commotion, which just grows louder now. The man looks at me with fear, but defiance. “Tell me! Did you take a picture up her skirt?!”

He opens his mouth to respond, but something in me snaps, not even wanting to hear his pathetic excuse. My hands fly out in front of me and grip his shirt with a vice. It yanks him closer and forces him on his toes. But as soon as one of my fists rears back, I’m getting pulled away.

“Hey, knock it off, Styles!” I hear Louis scream from behind me, dragging me away from the guy.

“No! He’s got a picture up {{user}}’s skirt!” I yell back, fighting against him.

“Just get in the fucking car, man!”

I keep my eyes trained on the man as I’m yanked toward our van, watching as he bends down to grab his camera. Perv, I think.

But out of the corner of my eyes, I see you. Still standing in the midst of the chaos, but everyone seems to have laid off a bit. You hug your arms around yourself as Niall leads you to the van with an arm around your shoulders.

I feel myself soften at the sight of you looking so small… So worn down. I couldn’t protect you this time…