Harry Styles Imagines and Preferences Book Two

Comfort

There were days where all you wanted to do was curl into a ball, and hide underneath the comforter on the bed. With your head tucked between your own pillow and Harry's pillow, and a pair of sleep shorts on and a shirt you'd nicked from Harry. Your phone left out of reach so you couldn't check social media, because you knew, that if you went anywhere near Twitter or Instagram, you'd feel likedoing the unthinkable.
Harry hated those days.
You hated them too.
But you couldn't help but feel that way. Having your confidence ripped from you by one nasty and disrespectful comment. Whether it be on Twitter, or Instagram, or even in the street. It brought your confidence down, and buried it deep and unreachable.
Harry tried everything he could to stop you feeling like that. He tried to take you off of Twitter and he tried to make your Instagram private, but no matter what he tried, the fans that you followed still had access. And he didn't want to be the boyfriend who took your social life away from you.
When he came home from his errands and saw you moping around the house, with your hair messed up and your face fresh and make-up less, he just wanted to bundle you into his arms and whisper sweet nothings into your ear.
But he knew that once you'd taken in those comments, it was hard to bring you away from them.
• • •
"Baby, look at me. Hmm. It's okay to have a cry, you know?" He whispered, as he knelt in front of your hunched figure situated on the bed. Your elbows were standing on your knees and your palms were cupping your cheeks. Your eyes stung, but you didn't want the comments to get to you. "Want to tell me what was said? Hm? C'mon. Tell me, baby" Harry added, as you looked at him and felt your chin wobble.
"Harry.. I'm nothing compared to you. I'm just a no-one. You're THE Harry Styles. I'm just plain ole' me. You're so great and handsome and beautiful and I'm just nothing" You whispered, and hoped that the feeling of your throat closing wouldn't give anything away.
"The fans always tell me how you're with me because you feel sorry for me. Because I'm such a sad-act that needs sympathy" You added, as his hands gripped your wrists and pulled them from your face. Your cheeks were red and your eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed.
He hated when you got told that. When you got told that he wasn't intially in love with you, and that he was only with you to make you feel like you were loved. He knew you were insecure. Insecure about yourself, about how you acted and he knew you were insecure about the relstionship you had with him. It made him wish he wasn't so famous. So he could have a near normal life and have a girlfriend who wouldn't be harrassed by strangers.
"That's rubbish. The fans are jealous, and as much as I love them, they can talk utter bollocks. You're perfect for me, and I love you. The fans don't know what we go through. You're too beautiful for me, if anything. I mean, look at you. Your face is clean and clean and even without make-up, you look like a model. Look at this," he whispered, pointing to his face, "you see these? These acne marks and spots? People think I'm perfect, with a perfect face and a perfect body, but I'm not..." He whispered, as he watched your eyebrows knit together.
"But you're so... Flawless. Yeah, you have spots and acne marks, but the fans see you are gorgeous. I'm just.. Nothing. You've been in the fame business for so long, people grow accustomed to you. I've been here for 2 and a half years, and nothing has changed" You sighed, as he stood up and straightened his knees. His bones and joints cracking as he hovered over you.
"C'mere.."
He motioned you to stand, and he held his hands out and waiting for you to take them. As he felt your skin on his, he pulled you up and into his body, and he shuffled you both to the door length mirror by the wardrobe.
"You see these two there?" He whispered, as he stood behind you and placed his arms around your hips. His hands settled nicely at your belly, and his chin rested on your shoulder. "That there, s'the real me and you. This is what the fans don't get to see. We look scruffy. Tired. Dirty" He chuckled, as you felt a heat flush rise to your cheeks. "Yeah, we may put on another face to go out in public, but this is what I love to see. A fresh-faced, freshly showered, strawberry smelling girlfriend. You got nothing to feel insecure about..." He whispered, as he watched through the mirror as tears slipped down your cheeks.
"You got nothing to be insecure about... Because I love you for you. I don't care about how you look with make-up caked on your face. I love you for how you are. You're beautiful, and you have a gorgeous personality and that is why I love you..." He added, as you turned in his arms and cupped his face in your hands.
"I love you so much, Harry Styles. How'd I get so darn lucky?" You whispered, as he wiped away at the tears collecting under your eyes with the pads of his thumbs. "Y'always know how to make me feel so much better, don't you?" You smiled, and pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips.
"Just loving seeing you smile, is all. It's a beautiful feature that should be worn everyday by you. Makes me day so much better" He winked, as his hand cupped the back of your head. "Now gimme some sugar. I've missed you.." He winked, as he dipped his head down to meet yours. His eyes fluttering shut as your lips met his.
Yeah, the hate always brought you down. But you had a support which always picked you up. And you couldn't be more grateful.