Layla
My stomach is filled with absolute butterflies as he laces our hands together, guiding me backstage into the hustle and bustle of it all. With the sun down, the coffee is out and passed around. The energy is undeniable and uncontrollable, radiating practically off the walls as I struggle to keep up with such a pace. Because before I can process my whereabouts, he's thrown into a quick fitting, leaving me alone in the small hallway for a few short minutes. I don't mind, knowing how show business works after so many years. For he's running quite low on time; being nearly an hour and a half late as his crew is not the happiest with him. The fitting room is rather large, resembling of his little touches here and there with placements of various bold and dazzling outfits along with colorful instruments.
I can hear the thrilled and happy screams of the crowds from where I stand, eager for the man of the hour to emerge on stage. For he's due in fifteen, causing excitement and hysteria to be heard all around. He can tell I'm a bit nervous as he attempts to make conversation about the weather and how exactly water bottles are shaped and formed from behind the curtain. I appreciate this from him. I appreciate the fact that he cares so dearly for me when nobody has before in the past. From the subtle placement of his hand tucked within the creases of my back or the soft touches and kisses he gifts upon my skin. All these small reminders of affection melt my heart evermore.
Eventually, we're reunited as he steps out bashfully, dressed in a white button up, tucked loosely in black striped trousers with a matching blazer. His hair has been combed and styled as he approaches me, barely holding it together, wanting to kiss my shy lips as his gaze falls upon them eagerly. He looks absolutely beautiful; a soul and face meant to be shared and adored by the entire world. He deserves to be plastered upon billboards throughout the glistening city as he's surrounded by sparkling lights. He smells of musky vanilla and lavender as he pulls me into his chest, tracing alongside my chin, settling his temple upon my own. We remain in this very moment briefly, neither one of us wanting to part ways if only for a little while.
"Are you nervous?" I ask him.
He smiles softly, exposing the prominent dimple on the right side of his mouth. That dimple is only shown if it's a true smile, this is quite the smile I'm receiving right about now. "A little, yeah."
"Does that happen often? The nerves? Thought you'd be used to it all by now."
"Hmm, no. It doesn't really bother me often."
"Then why tonight?"
"Because a certain woman will be watching me."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. She's quite the catch too."
"Really? Do I know of this woman?"
"You might. She's been in a few movies here and there. Her work is brilliant."
"Go on."
"She's clever."
"Tell me more."
"Undeniably gorgeous if I may add. You may know her. She goes by the name of Layla James. A stubborn, yet compelling woman. I'm already wrapped around her little finger."
He pulls me in for a tighter embrace, planting a big kiss onto my own mouth. His hands wander down to the bottoms of the grey dress that I selected in a true rush. He seems to like it, hands traveling down, begging for some attention as he whispers such private words into my ear. However, before true intentions can rise to the honest and sandy surface, we're interrupted with a turn of the door. For three others join us, causing me to instantly pull away at such a scene. I'm not allowed to venture far for he confidently takes my hand in his own, holding me close, silently telling me that all will be well as his mother and sister have entered the room. An older gentleman who appears to be quite friendly with Harry smiles kindly at me, offering a hand.
"I'm Jeffery, nice to meet you," he says, smelling of tequila and of course, all that New York City has to offer.
"Layla and likewise."
"No need for all the formalities now Azoff, loosen up," Harry jokes, pinching his arm as they share a small laugh. I know my actions are being quietly observed as I make eye contact with his mother and sister. But, before I have a moment to be nervous or truly process the situation beforehand, his mother embraces me warmly, pulling me in for a genuine hug. "Mum, come on now," Harry huffs from behind, flushing at such a sudden and surprising response. She smells like a hallmark card; sweet and memorable. She reminds me of happy holidays, chocolate, and warm apple pie all mixed together as she smiles at me as if we've been friends for many, many years.
Feeling steady eyes on her, she attempts to pull away, tracing the thrill upon my skin with her fingertips. "I'm so sorry, love. It's just, I'm such a huge fan of yours and..."
"Please, there's no need for apologies. It's a pleasure to meet you, truly. And you must be Gemma," I say, remembering her fun spirit from the many stories Harry told me in the past. She's a colorful spirit, but quite protective and wicked. Don't let her fool you, he said, remembering tales from his early childhood.
She nods quietly, accepting my hand before also pulling me in for an unexpected embrace. It's a hug you expect from a close friend that you've adored for a lifetime, not from a stranger. "Oh, for fuck's sake. Please, come on now," Harry groans, earning a scolding in the process.
"Language, Harry. Is that any way to speak in front of others? In front of ladies?" His mother asks, causing him to roll his eyes in a friendly manner, convincing her otherwise.
"I'm sorry Layla. Mum and I promised we wouldn't make a scene, but then we saw you and well, you know the rest," Gemma states, laughing bashfully, avoiding the daggers Harry attempts to throw throughout the evening.
"I really don't mind," I add.
"Don't say that love, they may try to dive in for another hug," Harry whispers into my ear, causing me to give him a glare, much to his amusement as he flashes me a wink.
"What was that H? Care to share with the group?" Gemma questions, ruffling a hand through his perfectly created curls. "How much product do you actually have in your hair? It's ridiculous."
"Will you cut it out Gems? You're embarrassing me, Christ," Harry replies, a sort of shyness rising to the plate as his eyes revert between me and his older sister.
"I'm sure you've embarrassed yourself quite the number of times with your silly jokes. I'm deeply sorry for whatever my little brother says to you. We've tried to tell him over the years that he's simply not funny, but he won't be convinced," she says, throwing me a quick wink as shades of red and peach appear upon Harry's face.
"Knock it off Gemma. This is his big night. Don't spoil it now," Anne states, attempting to resolve a potential conflict.
"Too late," Harry mumbles underneath his breath, giving her an irritated roll of his eyes. The hand that remains laced within my own grows tighter as I give it a small squeeze, silently informing him that he doesn't have to be concerned or bashful around me. I want him to feel comfortable, especially around his family. And I hope he knows that he can be comfortable with me too.
"Well, shall we go to our seats? It's almost showtime," Jeffery says excitedly with a clap of his hands.
"Now remember H, whatever you do tonight, don't fall," Gemma teases.
"Oh really, that helps Gemma. You should consider starting an advice column," Harry notes.
"Oh, shut it."
"You shut it."
"How about, we go to our seats?" Harry's mother suggests with a hopeful smile, creating a fit of mumbles and curses to be passed along the room. I can hear the base of the music changing as the crowd begins to cheer in excitement and anticipation. I turn, wanting to wish him luck before we part ways. However, he doesn't bother in wasting time. For he grabs hold of my hand again, placing a passionate kiss on my mouth despite the very idea that his mother and sister could still be in the room, seeing such an intimate moment between the two of us. He leaves me breathless as I hold onto him for survival, missing him already, wanting to bestow all the confidence upon his dear shoulders.
"What was that for Harry Styles?"
"Do I need a reason to kiss you Layla James? Hmm, is that it?"
"No, you don't need a reason."
"Just thought it would help if I could taste you on my mouth when I'm up on that stage tonight."
"Your mother is still in the room."
He's unbothered, leaning down for another kiss that's not as grand, yet holds all the passion and meaning behind its actions. And when he's done savoring my taste, he smiles proudly, pecking my cheek for luck. "You're adorable, you know that? Promise me something tonight, yeah?"
"What is it?"
"Promise me that you'll have fun. I know this is your first concert and all, but I want you to enjoy yourself. Let go of your thoughts and everyone around you. Just, have fun. For me?"
"I think I can do that. Thank you for inviting me."
"Thank you for coming. And remember, I'll have my eye on you, little darling."
Security guides us towards our destined and secured spot in the third row. I stand next to Gemma on the end as the lights begin to get dimmed and the screams begin to heighten. My own heart is racing with nerves and an unbeatable thrill for him as they shut off the music for a brief moment before starting it back up at the introduction of the welcoming song. And it's in that very moment where the crowd goes completely and utterly wild. For he steps out on stage at the start of the chorus and drums, walking with nothing but confidence and stardom. He begins the first song; the band following as he captivates all those around. Fans hold up their colorful and thoughtful signs all around, taking photos, wishing to forever remember such a moment. As he continues on with another song, I find myself in genuine awe, watching him do what he loves and thankful that I decided to come here tonight.
His mother and sister are both smiling with joy and pride as they sing the words, swaying back and forth, encouraging me to do the same. Shyly, I decide for once in my life to do such a thing, not wanting the possibility of being caught or captured on film to ruin such a night. I want to keep my promise. I want to have fun, for both of us. "I want to take a moment and thank you all for coming out here tonight. Your support means the absolute world to me. And while tonight closes out the tour, I want you to scream for me NYC. How about that? Let me hear you scream?" Harry asks, projecting a crowd favorite as they chant and respond in excitement. He smiles widely, taking a sip of water, placing it down before grabbing hold of the microphone. And before he jumps into song, his eyes wander toward my way, flashing an almost nonexistent wink to others as I blow him a kiss. He grabs it, attempting to tuck it safely upon the corners of his back pocket. Towards the end of the night, the screams begin to lessen as all realize the show will soon cease. Fans begin to shed bittersweet tears as he prepares for the last and final song. Once he walks back out on stage, his eyes are reddened and glassy with emotion as he says farewell to his audience.
"I want you all to know, how much I love you. Once again New York, I thank you for your time and support. This city will always hold a special place in my heart, so thank you. I'm going to sing one final song for you all tonight and then, I'll be gone for a while. But, this isn't goodbye. This is only a see you later, never forget that. Thank you so, so much!"
The introduction to the final song begins; the last track on his most recent album. The audience is lost in the lyrics, swaying their phones in the air, allowing the flashing lights to be lifted up for all to see. Such a passion and sight brings tears to my own eyes as I allow them to fall, not holding an honest answer as Gemma places an arm around my shoulder, keeping me steady. I take turns between the audience and him, capturing such a dazzling and magical night on film, translating the minutes into photographs and video. I want to remember him this way, showered in sparkles and roses. He should forever be adored this way as he's the brightest and most beautiful flower of all. And as the night ends and the curtain is drawn, everyone says their goodbyes.
The audience soon disperse into the lively city. The band and crew all take one last bow and cheer on a successful time. Harry's mother and sister eventually return back to their hotel as we decide to join in later. For I find myself walking onto the now empty stage as a world famous musician sits on the edge, dangling his legs out as he looks out into the silent and nonexistent crowd. I take a seat next to him, witnessing his attempt to withdraw and suppress the tears. But as I take his hand in my own, he sports a small and bashful laugh, placing his head onto my shoulder.
"Thought you'd be at the after party," he whispers.
"Figured we could head out together."
The tears continue to stain my skin, yet I don't mind as these are bittersweet tears. He needs to release them. "I'm sorry, didn't want you to see me like this. I'm ruining the night."
"Don't say that Harry. The night was absolutely remarkable. You were brilliant. A true legend in my eyes."
"Yeah? Did you have fun?"
"Yes, very much. I'm really, really proud of you. We all are so proud of you."
I wipe away his tears this time, being the strong one out of the two as he's always been the person to take on such a role. He doesn't have to always be so strong. It's okay sometimes to let the undeniable tears out, unfortunately, in his past, I can tell that he always hasn't had someone to sit and listen.
And I keep him afloat as they return the set back to normal, wanting to clean up any traces of such a show. They work to forget his time on stage, but I want him to always remember. I remain by his side, whispering how amazed I am of him, kissing the side of his sweet face until he's ready to say goodbye. Then again, this isn't goodbye to the fans. He said it himself only minutes ago. It's simply, see you later.
Harry is so soft, it melts my heart.
Layla met the family! Thoughts?
What do you think will happen next?
How do you like the progression in their relationship?
Next chapter will have Harry and Layla's POV! Hope you're ready...
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