The breeze brushed across my skin, the busy streets of London humming softly beneath the dim sunlight. You and I had just gone for a bottomless brunch, a nice plate of food and a few drinks in the day time never hurt anyone. We’d had a nice day. It’d be around eight months of us dating, I really enjoyed being with you. You made me feel seen. Content. Safe.

As we passed by shops, walking down the pavement, I could almost sense that your fingers were itching to intertwine with mine. I silently hoped that you wouldn’t. I’d already had fans coming up to me, saying hi and asking for pictures, I didn’t mind that. But, I didn’t want it to get out that you and I were dating.

I’d had far too many of my interactions with women plastered all over the tabloids, whether I was actually dating them or just casually seeing them. The media and certain fans would rip them to shreds every single time. I vowed to myself that the next time I’d be with someone, I would keep it as private as possible. You’d told me more than once that you didn’t care what any had to say about us. But I did.

Even walking around with you like I was what probably get us papped at some point, but how could I possibly never walk around in public with you? At least we hadn’t been acting all couple-y. That would’ve made everything much worse.

We approached a small vintage shop, we’d both decided earlier on in the day that we’d pop in at some point. As we crossed the road, making it to the curb, you tripped. Immediately, I reached my hand out to steady you. One of your legs had given out, causing you to slightly topple to the ground. If i hadn’t reached out, you would’ve fell flat on your face.

“Easy.” I said, shaking my head with amusement, pulling you from your feet onto the path so that you were no longer in the road.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, your laughter filled the air around us. “Can’t believe that just happened in public.”

I couldn’t help my own laughter that escaped my lips. “You’re a klutz, can barely walk without tripping over your own feet.” I smirked, my hands resting on your shoulders.

Neither of us could stop laughing, you were a clumsy idiot, but you were mine. I had momentarily forgotten about the busy street around us, we were in our own little bubble of laughter. But then—

You leaned in smiling, then your lips puckered. Too close. I froze for a moment before turning my head, dodging your kiss. Why the fuck would you do that? I’d always been clear about PDA.

“Woah. Don’t.” The words came out harsher than intended, I took a step back.

A frown formed on your face, taking a step back too. “Are you serious right now?”

“Deadly,” I shoved my hands in my pockets, glancing away. “I told you I wanted to keep things private.”

“Being private doesn’t mean pretending I don’t exist.” You growled, arms crossed over your chest.

“It’s not about pretending you don’t exist. I don’t want our relationship spoken about in the tabloids,” I snapped, unable to keep the bubbling anger out of my tone. “God, why is that so hard to understand?”

I was drawing unwanted, unneeded attention to us by raising my voice in such a public space. If anything was going to get papped, it would’ve been this. That was the last fucking thing I needed. I wasn’t thinking about all of the people around us and their phones being pulled out as they saw me — Harry Styles, arguing with a girl in the street. I was too clouded by my frustration.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t date someone if you can’t let them love you in public, Harry.” You hissed, your eyes held a cold glare that I hadn’t seen before.

My gaze landed on the people recording us, my heart sank. “Maybe you’re right, maybe I shouldn’t.” I replied, my tone harsh and bitter.