"Loving someone and having them love you back is the most precious thing in the world." ― Nicholas Sparks


You couldn't fathom how well Harry could pull off so many different clothes. Whether it be a pair of floral pants or a simple button-down that he hardly ever buttoned. He always managed to make it work and you, being a girl, were jealous. Why can't I wear outfits that well? You asked yourself as you sat by the window of your hotel room, resting your temple on the cold glass. The city of Los Angeles spoke to you with its posh buildings and bustling people. It was so crazy and you didn't want to leave this hotel. It was much less crowded inside than it was outside. And you hated crowds.

But you had to leave this hotel because Harry had asked you to come to the American Music Awards. The boys were nominated for two awards tonight and you couldn't be more proud of them. With their hiatus coming up, you hoped they would win so they could see once again that their fans were there for them through thick and thin. You didn't know why Harry asked you to go with him. There was no need for you to be there but he had said that he wanted you there with him and the boys. The puppy eyes that he had given you had forced you to say yes.

"You OK, darling?"

His voice made you swivel your head to the side, your eyes falling upon him. Harry had gone full out tonight once again, wearing a white floral suit. It looked like it had been made from your grandmother's curtains but for some reason, a reason that you didn't know, he looked amazing. His curls were freshly washed, falling over his shoulders, and his green eyes glowed like emeralds. He looked worried when you saw your forlorn face.

"Why do you want me to come tonight?" You asked.

"Because you're my girlfriend and I will take any chance I get to show you off." He answered plainly, walking over to you.

"I'm not going to walk down the carpet with you, Harry. I'll be behind all the cameras and be surrounded by celebrities, people that I idolise. There is no reason for me to be there. I don't belong there." You looked out of the window again, wrapping your arms around your legs. Dating Harry wasn't a normal dating experience. There were camera flashes and paparazzi, constant eyes on every move that you and Harry made. You wanted it to be more private and the only way you could do that was be indoors. You weren't complaining about that but every time Harry took you out, either for a walk or a dinner date, there were paparazzi, wanting to capture each moment. It made you feel self-conscious and going to an award show wouldn't help.

Harry placed his left hand on your knee and leaned back against the window, his thumb stroking your bare skin.

"You belong with me, my love. Where I go, you go. And visa versa. I am not leaving you alone in this hotel room for the whole night. The lads are dying to see you." He told you. The three other boys were a small but strong support system for you and your relationship with Harry. They were so kind and caring and without their friendliness, you would've stuck your head in the sand whenever you could.

"There's a dress Lou and Lottie bought for you lying on the bed. Would you go and put it on for me?" Harry asked, slipping his fingers underneath yours. The contact made you look away from the city of L.A. and into the home of a pair of green eyes. You sighed and stood up, walking into the bedroom where indeed, a purple velvet dress waited on the bed, wanting to be worn. It wasn't completely flashy but it was nice enough to wear to the American Music Awards. You wouldn't be on camera anyway so it was all fine.

You stripped out of your casual clothes and pulled on the dress gently, sliding your arms through the skin-tight sleeves, ending at your wrists. The hem brushed just above your knees and the neckline dipped into a soft V, not showing too much of your chest. Your feet snuggled into a pair of wedges and you didn't have to do anything with your hair or make-up; you had already done both earlier.

Harry almost lost his breath when you walked back into the main room. He walked over to you, taking your hands in his own and his lips touched your knuckles.

"You look beautiful." He smiled.

"Lou and Lottie have good taste." You smiled back. Harry wrapped his arm around your waist and directed you over to the door.

"Let's go."

The drive to the venue was quiet except for when fans formed a crowd around the black car, wanting to see the boys. You hid behind Liam as Harry rolled his window down to wave at the fans. They yelled out the boys' names as they held up their phones, taking pictures and recording videos. Harry told them to be careful on the road before rolling his window back up and the car set off again. Liam squeezed your hand in reassurance, his brown eyes warm as he nudged your shoulder.

"Everything will be fine, love."

You could only nod in response.

Before you knew it, it was time for the boys to make their way down the red carpet for photos and interviews. Lou was Snapchatting as you walked with the boys, surrounded by security. Harry kept you close to him, his hand resting at the small of your back. It gave you comfort that he wanted you so close but it wasn't going to be like that the rest of the night. He would have to leave you and you had no idea how you were going to navigate yourself around the place. Where am I going to go?

"Lou will stay with you, my love. You won't be alone." Harry answered your unspoken question, bringing you even closer to his body so that you could feel his breath on your neck. The area was packed and you could hear screams and voices chatting away. Harry turned to you and left a featherlight kiss on your forehead.

"I'll see you soon, OK?" He whispered, pushing a flyaway strand of hair away from your face. You spoke a weak "OK" and broke eye-contact with him. His lips were suddenly pressed against yours, your reply was a faint whimper and just from that one kiss, you didn't want to let him go. Your fingers found the right lapel of his suit jacket and you tugged him towards you.

"Disgusting." You heard Louis groan.

"Shut it, Tomlinson." Harry muttered against your mouth and you giggled, which made Harry's heart beat a little faster. You patted Harry's chest and wished him and the boys good luck. He kissed your cheek and informed you that he would be able to see you before their performance. With one final wave, One Direction walked on the red carpet, ready to be the rockstars that they were.

The first half-an-hour went swimmingly. You stayed with Lou, never letting her out of your sight. Fortunately, she stood out with her silver hair and red lips. But then, your worst nightmare came true. You lost her in the crowd of paparazzi.

Your chest began to tighten, an iron hand gripping your heart too tightly. You felt like you couldn't breathe. Your body was thrown in every direction as camera operators pushed past you, desiring to get closer to the celebrities.

"Move it!" One guy yelled, his foot hooking around your ankle. You let out a cry as you lost your balance, falling to the ground. You managed to block your face by reaching your hands out. Even thought there was a soft material and not concrete, your hands still burned. Your palms were bright red and your knees were sore from banging onto the ground. You knew you never should have come. It was all a disaster. People paid no attention to you, kicking your legs, whispering to each other why a fragile girl was on the ground and no-one made a move to help you. You got to your feet slowly but only continued to be pushed further and further back until your back hit a wall. You were away from the commotion now but you couldn't be more upset.

You slid down to the ground, cradling your face in your hands as you sobbed. I never should have come. Why did I come? Because Harry wanted you to. Your thoughts turned to him. You were so ordinary so you didn't see the appeal that Harry saw in you. You were nothing, not worthy of being with someone like him. He wouldn't like you if he saw you now. He wouldn't love you if he could see the blinding tears in your eyes. I don't deserve Harry.

A voice caught your attention. It was a voice that was calling your name. You looked up and realised that it was Lou's voice.

"Lou? Lou!" You tried to shout but your voice was faint, strangled from crying.

The stylist appeared before you, shoving past two paparazzi men. She fell to her knees when she saw you.

"Babe, are you OK?"

"No. No, I'm not. I want to go back to the hotel." You murmured.

"But the boys-"

"Tell them the truth. And tell Harry I'm sorry."

"Alright, babe, we'll get you in a taxi." Lou said, helping you to stand up. You wiped your eyes, not wanting people to see you cry. Tonight was not the joyful time that you had wished to have. You wished you had never come. You wished that you had remained by the window, staring out into the distance.

0*0

The dress came off as quickly as it was put on and you kicked your wedges off. You threw on a pair of boy shorts and an old plaid shirt of yours. You hopped into the large bed, burying yourself underneath the sheets. And that's where you stayed until Harry returned.

Hours had passed before you heard the sound of his footsteps. You sniffled and tried to get rid of the evidence of your tears, rubbing your fingers across your hot cheeks. Harry called your name and you fell in love with his deep raspy tone even more. The door to the bedroom creaked open and you knew he was inside.

"Darling? Are you awake?"

You didn't say anything and kept still. You suddenly felt a weight behind you and a strong arm locked around your waist, over the sheets. His fingers combed through your hair, leaving quick gentle kisses on your head. Your body couldn't help itself and melted into his hold. From this response, Harry knew that you weren't asleep.

"Look at me, sweetheart."

You buried your face in the pillow and shook your head. You didn't want him to see you like this. So vulnerable and weak like a little girl. He stroked your upper arm and goosebumps arose on your sensitive skin.

"Please look at me." Harry pleaded. He wanted to look into your eyes and understand what went wrong at the American Music Awards. He wanted to touch your smooth cheek and kiss your pink lips, make you believe that everything was OK. You gave in and quietly shuffled around so that you were facing him, chest to chest and heart to heart. You couldn't look him in the eye so you focused on his clothes. He was still fully dressed but not in his floral suit. His outfit had gone from white to black, a tight dress shirt with a yellow rose around his throat and a pair of pants with flares. He looked beautiful but his beauty was something you never deserved to have in a boyfriend. You touched the rose bowtie with curiosity but Harry's eyes were on you and your sticky cheeks, ruined by hours of intense weeping.

"Have you been crying? Why? What's wrong?"

"Didn't Lou tell you what happened?" You asked, biting your lip.

"The only thing she told me was that she found you behind all the cameras, crying on the ground. She didn't say why you we- Oh My God, your hands!" Harry gasped. He saw how raw your palms were from falling, his fingertips lightly touching your bright skin. He kissed both of your palms and you flinched as a rush of pain shot through your fingers. You brought your hands to your chest and shook your head, telling him with no words that you didn't want him to touch your skin.

"Tell me what happened at the awards. Why are your hands red raw? Did someone hurt you?" Harry was desperate to know. He was your priority, the person he put above everybody else, including himself. You were scared to tell him. You didn't want him to think that you were a baby, crying over nothing. You sucked in a breath as your gaze flickered to his.

"Not involuntarily." You choked out.

"Who hurt you?" Harry demanded.

"Harry, please, I'm fine."

"No, you're far from fine. You've been crying. Tell me who hurt you." He growled yet his eyes still held their gentle emotion. You knew he wouldn't stop asking for an answer. Harry never gave up on things like that. When he had his mind set on something, no-one could make him change his thoughts. So you told him what happened.

By the end, he was fuming. His eyes flared with rage and his upper lip curled in anger. You shushed him in an attempt to calm him down, twirling a few of his chocolate curls around your finger. The silent anger was the one you were most afraid of because you didn't know what was going on in his head, if it was all bottled up inside. He never blew up which scared you. Instead, he turned over and grabbed something off the table by the bed; you realised it was his phone. Harry sat up against the headboard and furiously typed something. You sat up next to him, wondering what he was doing. He turned his phone screen away from you so that you couldn't see what he was typing. You leaned back defeated and simply waited.

You surveyed your pink palms just as you were welcomed with a 'ping' from your phone. You picked it up from the table on your side of the bed and saw that you had a Twitter notification. Harry had posted a tweet. He watched you as you opened Twitter and your eyes widened when you realised what the tweet was.

@Harry_Styles: My girl is my life. When she hurts, I hurt. Anyone that hurts her again will answer to me.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and stared at his tweet in shock. Harry draped his arm around your shoulders protectively and kissed the side of your head. The favourites and retweets began to blow up and you smiled, which Harry loved to see.

"No-one's going to hurt you again, my love. I promise. I won't take you to any more public events unless you walk the carpet with me. I'm never leaving you alone with anyone else again. I'll keep you safe." He said. Tears formed in your eyes once again but they were happy tears. Ones of joy and delight and love. The love you bore for him had just grown so much more, so much deeper. You didn't hesitate in dropping your phone in your lap and pressed a passionate kiss to his fruity lips. He nipped at your bottom lip and you let out a small moan, his chuckle setting your heart on fire.

"Je t'aime." His English drawl fit perfectly with the French language. Your eyes met his and you didn't even need to think about it when you whispered the same phrase back to him. You knew now for certain that this was your home.

Not here in this hotel.

Not here in Los Angeles.

But Harry's heart.

That was where your home was.

Notes

I got a bit nostalgic seeing pictures of the boys at the AMAs last year come up on my Tumblr dash so this chapter was born. I will leave you to figure out what Harry said in French ;) I'll post another chapter tomorrow because I already have another idea!

blankspace1 xx