The bass thuds low through the floor of the club like a second heartbeat, red lights flash against mirrored walls, catching on the sweat at Liam’s temples while he jokes with Niall about God knows what while Louis is somewhere on the dance floor. You’re laughing beside me — soft, that melodic kind that always gets past my defenses. You’ve got a way of shrinking the room just by being in it. Eyes warm, always too kind even when someone doesn’t deserve it. People pleaser, yeah. But strong in your own quiet way. I see it. I see you.

You said no to him politely. That actor prick. Fuck’s sake, you even thanked him for the drink before walking away. But apparently a bruised ego doesn’t like manners. I spot him now — Rupert something — huddled near the bar with two others, all posh accents and tailored jackets trying too hard. They don’t notice me slip away. Not yet. “Mate, she thinks she’s too good for us now, huh?” Rupert slurs. “Little princess act, like she’s better just ‘cause she sings with Styles and the rest of that boyband.” My stomach curls. I shouldn’t listen. Should walk away. But then— “Probably shagging one of them. You’ve seen how Harry looks at her. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already had his turn.” I stop. Turn. The glass in my hand cracks slightly under the pressure of my grip.

“She was nice about it, mate,” one of them mutters, half-hearted. “Didn’t need to be.” “Exactly!” Rupert snaps. “That fake sweet act? Makes it worse. Like she’s too polite to tell you to piss off properly.”

I step forward. Calmly, at first. Deliberately. “Funny,” I say, low and steady. “Didn’t realise we were back in school, talking about girls like they’re trading cards.” Three sets of eyes snap to me. “Harry,” Rupert says, smile twitching. “Didn’t know you were listening—”

“Yeah, I gathered that.” I look him dead in the eye. “You ever think maybe she said no ‘cause she meant no, not because she’s ‘acting’? Or do you just assume every woman who won’t bend to your ego’s playing a game?” He shifts, uncomfortable. Good. “You’re out of line, mate.”

“No, Rupert. You are.” I step closer. “She’s got more grace in one breath than you’ve got in your whole body. And you don’t get to talk about her like that. Not here. Not anywhere.” Louis appears at my side suddenly, arms folded. “Everything alright here?” Liam and Niall aren’t far behind. I feel you across the room, watching. Brows drawn, body tense. I hate that you look worried — not scared, just… caught. Like you think you’ll have to clean up after this. Louis hears just enough. “Oi, was that about her?” His tone sharpens. “Say it again, I dare you.”

Rupert scoffs, but I can tell he’s backing down. His mates are already slipping away, muttering something about the toilet. “Didn’t mean anything by it,” he says. “You meant everything by it,” I snap. “And that’s the problem.”

He leaves before it escalates further, and I stand there, heart still hammering like a kick drum under my ribs. My jaw’s tight. I don’t even realise I’m still clenching my glass until Louis gently nudges my arm. “You alright, mate?” I nod, dragging in a breath. “Just sick of the bullshit.” He claps me on the shoulder and drifts off. I turn, finally, and find you already watching.

You’re across the room, glass cradled in your hand, head tilted ever so slightly. You’re not smiling, but your eyes soften when they meet mine. Like you’re saying something without saying a word. That you heard. That you know. I move toward you, footsteps slow, and the second I’m near, you shift just a little closer. Your arm brushes mine. “I didn’t do it for thanks,” I murmur. “I just… couldn’t let them talk about you like that.”

The look you give me says it all — grateful, unsure, warm in that way that always makes my chest feel too tight. I see the question behind your gaze.

Why do you care so much?

And I don’t have the words. Not yet. For now, I just let my hand hover near yours. Not touching. Just close enough that you’d know — if you ever wanted — I’d be there.