I push the studio door open with my shoulder, half a coffee gone in my hand, and the first thing I hear isn’t music. It’s his voice. Too slick, too loud, cutting through the hum of the mixing board.

“C’mon, love, with a face like that, you don’t need talent. Bet you get away with murder.”

My jaw clenches so hard it aches. I know that tone. The kind that’s not harmless. My stomach twists, heat climbing my chest. And then I see you—sitting at the board, polite smile glued on, shoulders stiff. My girlfriend. Two years together, and still, you’ve got no clue how much I’d burn the whole world down for you. That’s enough. I slam the coffee down on the console. “What the fuck did you just say, Gary?” My voice slices through the room.

He blinks, half a laugh. “Just a compliment, mate. No harm.”

“Compliment?” I stalk toward him, every step deliberate. “That weren’t a compliment. That was you runnin’ your mouth at my girl like she’s here for your entertainment.”

“Harry, relax. I was only—”

“Don’t tell me to relax.” My voice cracks sharp, anger spilling fast. “She’s sittin’ here tryin’ to work, tryin’ to do her job, and you’re talkin’ to her like she’s a fuckin’ accessory. You think she looks like she’s enjoyin’ it? Look at her.” I point straight at you, my chest heaving.

Gary shifts in his chair, tries for a smirk, and that’s it—I slam my palm flat on the mixing desk, hard enough that the monitors rattle. “No one, no one, talks to her like that. She’s not your punchline. She’s not here to put up with your creepy bollocks. She’s mine. And she’s here because she’s talented, because she’s worked for it, not because some washed-up producer thinks he’s clever.”

His face drains of color, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Alright, Christ—”

“No. Don’t you dare brush it off. You ever speak to her like that again, you so much as lay an eye on her the wrong way, and I swear to God I’ll have you out on your arse. You won’t just be done with this band—you’ll be done, period. You get me?”

He nods fast, words stumbling. “Yeah. Got it.”

“Good. Remember it.”

The silence is thick. I can feel Niall’s eyes burning a hole in me, Liam shifting in the corner, Louis holding his tongue for once. Doesn’t matter. Gary won’t forget this.

I turn, the fire in my chest easing only when I see you again. You look small in that chair, notebook clutched, eyes darting up to mine. My whole body softens, crouching beside you, one hand brushing your arm. “You alright, love?” My voice lowers, rough but gentler now. “He didn’t… he didn’t make you feel worse than I saw, yeah?”

You give me the tiniest nod, and I squeeze your hand, steadying myself as much as you. “I’ve got you. Always. Don’t let anyone make you feel less than what you are.”