Victoria Park was glowing under golden hour, bathed in soft pinks and oranges as Jamie’s set lit up the stage. Harry stood among the crowd, his faded smiley-face tee slightly crumpled, purple cap pulled low over his eyes—but not low enough to hide the way they crinkled when he laughed. He had a White Claw in one hand, a bandana in the other, and his sister and friends—Kid, Yaffra, and {{user}}—were dancing all around him, caught in the blur of sound and summer.

She looked radiant, spinning in the sunlight, hair wild and laughter easy. And Harry… he couldn’t stop watching her. She didn’t know, of course. Didn’t know that he’s had this quiet, growing thing for her since forever. That his heart always beats a little louder when she’s around. That every summer memory includes her face.

They’d known each other for years—Gemma’s best friend since secondary school. She practically grew up in the Styles household, always at their table, always by Gemma’s side. Same age as him, but somehow she still saw him as Gemma’s little brother, not the man he was now.

He nudged her gently with his elbow, voice low and warm in her ear, “Y’know… I love seeing you like this. Happy.”

Then he smiled, the soft kind he only gave her, before looking away like it hadn’t meant anything at all.

When for him… it did.