Harry Styles One Shots

Insecurities (ii)

Summary: Harry is good friends with Camille and Y/N is insecure

Warnings: angst (ish)

Word Count: 2.6k

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Y/N did not have the best body but it was 'good enough'. She didn't have the brightest personality but it made her who she is. Her style wasn't extravagant—it was simple and casual. And she wasn't the best at anything. In fact, everything she knew was at the surface level—she couldn't delve too deep into a conversation about politics, argue that Socrates was the better philosopher to Descartes or discuss how writing a song in F major gave off a happier vibe than a minor key.

All these proved that she can fit in but she cannot necessarily stand out. Maybe that was the problem. Y/N didn't know much but she knew enough.

She knew that her insecurities were getting the better of her because she had never ended on friendly terms with an ex. Nor did she fall so deeply in love with anybody else aside from Harry. It was causing an inner turmoil in her tummy that made Y/N sick to her because something was wrong and she didn't know how to fix it.

Y/N was aware that it would be unfair to him to say that he couldn't communicate with Camille again. So what was she to do? Wallow in the depths of self-pity, hoping that Harry would magically read her mind and do it himself? Of course not.

Y/N bit her lip, hearing the door open and close as Harry exited her apartment. He said a quick goodbye to her, informing her of his whereabouts before leaving with a peck to her head. Harry assumed she was resting a bit—as she often did while she was studying. She could get moody most of the time too and maybe that's why he didn't think much of it when she hummed in response.

Alone with her thoughts, Y/N felt a tear drip to her hairline, cooling her skin with the path it took. Her chest crumbled with a shudder as a small sob managed to rip through her throat. The sound reverberated in the barren room to echo back in her ears and it reminded her of how weak she was. Very weak that she was doubting her self-worth for a man that was so stable, so sure, and completely unapologetic for being himself.

Y/N compared herself to a lot of people she deemed better than her. She didn't predict that she would compare herself to Harry. To be so insecure and shaky with herself—unsure whether she was enough or not. It wasn't right but she couldn't help but feel unworthy of everything. Jealousy directed to Harry for having something that she wanted—confidence. Insecurity projected to Camille for being someone that she wanted to be because sometimes being yourself isn't enough.

It was the sad reality of having a mind like Y/N's and she so badly wished that she could specifically rewire her brain to not think like that. She should be happy with what she's got. Her body, her mind, her little quirks that Harry absolutely adored but she despised. Not once did Harry explicitly cross-sectioned her and Camille to each other but it felt like his friendly words and supportive actions towards her told enough.

She can never be Camille and Y/N was disappointed in herself because of that.

——

When Camille answered the door for Harry, his mind was figuring out ways to comfort her as a friend. She greeted him with a small smile, wiping the grin off of his face, fully knowing that it used to be much wider, brighter in a sense that it made her face more angelic. He really did love her with the fullness of his heart. It made him frown a bit, toeing off his Chelsea boots beside the closet nearby. His socked feet pattering against the cold marble of her house, sending a chill down his spine.

"Want some tea?" Camille asked, noticing his shiver. She plugged in the electric kettle having been already filled with water beforehand despite his retorts. Camile never really listened to him. Regardless, he stretched his arms over his head, puffing his cheeks out as he situated them on his slim hips,