“{{user}}, how do you feel?” Someone asks you from behind a barricade, hundreds of phones in your face as you walk down the corridor completely dripping with water. “Wet!” You scream back and you explode into laughter at your own answer.

You travel back to your dressing room, adrenaline rushing through your veins like it always does when you step off stage. It’s a feeling most artists get. You hum a song to yourself, scrunching your hair with a towel to try and keep the curls that have managed to stay through the fake rain pour during your performance.

I’ve just watched you perform ‘Tears’ on your latest album ‘Man’s best friend’ for the first time and I couldn’t be more proud. We’re great friends, from going to concerts together, dinners and bars. Everyone knows that we aren’t dating, it’s strange because we’ve never addressed it but nobody has speculated much apart from the people who do way too much on the internet for views.

I didn’t speak through your entire performance, just completely captivated by the way you carry yourself. Nobody spoke to me either, but I feel like the expression on my face was obvious that I was slowly falling inlove with your antics. Bringing people together through song, even if it’s an explicit one for that matter but you still find a way to create a sense of equality in such an angry world.

All I could do was watch in awe, you moving your body so swiftly in the midst of soaked floor and your spiralled hair throwing droplets all over the place. Watching you shine with drag queens is definitely not something I’d be expecting to watch tonight, but I’m seriously here for it.

Here for you.

Right, I need to see you. I dismiss myself from the table, telling the boys where I was going before I sped walk to the backstage area. I’m not even sure if I’m allowed to be back here, but I’ll risk it if it means that I get to see you.

I turn a corner till I see your name printed on a door, the door cracked open just a little. I knock before opening it, if it’s open it must be a silent invite. You look at me through your giant vanity mirror and I watch your entire face light up.

I love when that happens, no other feeling compares to the one I feel when I cause your lips to upturn. Even just slightly.

“Harry!” You squeal, jogging up to me and I engulf you in my arms, pulling you off the floor and your arms wrap around my neck for quick security. I wouldn’t drop you anyways, you’re almost a foot shorter than me. My lips stretch into a smile, holding you tighter as the drenched ends of your hair wet my blazer sleeves.

“Hi, sweet girl.” I squeeze your waist with my fingers. “That was amazing.” I assure you, my lips gently pressing against the side of your head. “God— you’re soaked.” I mutter and I let go of you, you winking at me in response. I look down to see that my shirt has turned a little see through from the water droplets on your body, the ink on my chest now prominent through the white button up.