harry styles imagines

don't blame me for falling -part 3

"now you know me and my story. what do you think?"

harry looked up at you, a slight tear in his eye and a crack in his voice. he'd told you about louis walsh bashing his confidence, the loss of his stepfather and his platinum record albums. he seemed proud but disappointed, joyous but broken.
you looked at him, all of him. his face, his body, his tattoos, his hands, his feet, his hair. you appreciated every detail.

"i think you're spectacular."

harry played with his rings before taking another sip of wine. he itched his head and sniffled. it was the little things you enjoyed paying attention to. 

"you don't think i'm effeminate? or only fancy me because i've got a name for myself."

there was a certain tension and pain you could sense, just by looking at harry. you wanted to make him smile, but you didn't want to ruin this moment. he was showing his vulnerability, something you didn't know if he did often or not. you felt your heart trying to reach his, trying to embrace it and become one. it was early days and there were baby steps to be taken but you could see everything you'd ever wanted in harry. sensitivity, beauty, purity and honesty.
you smiled, causing harry's eyes to glisten slightly. he was slowly forming a smile on his face but it just needed that last push of encouragement.

"bold of you to assume i fancy you."

harry burst out laughing, touching his nose and shaking his head. you'd done it.

"just because you're a global sensation, harry, doesn't mean you're not a human being. you're allowed to live, love, be normal. don't ever doubt that."

it took him a moment to process what you'd said, but by the look in his eye you could tell he appreciated it.

"i want that. i want a simple normality."

"good."

"will you be normal with me, (y/n)?"

"i'd like that."

"good."