(we're a) Fine Line {HS}

XXIX - Elegance

The interview, later that afternoon, went particularly well. The person in question is called Tiffany and she's definitely in her early twenties: she's really nice and just has a good energy. I could tell she was - and is - pleasantly excited to be Harry's manager and work with him in general. First of all, she's about to start her work carrier for real, and second, it happens to be as Harry Styles's manager. It's not for everyone, after all.

Harry, as well, seems to be very optimistic. He didn't take the interview as professional as I was expecting, as he kept making small jokes once in a while at minimal and random things which implanted a very good and friendly environment between us all.

I don't know when was the last time I saw him that smiley, and I haven't realised how much I need that. I used to think missing him as a neutral would be just enough, but watching the way his green eyes shrink and his dimples show up at the same time the sound of his little squeaky laughs reach my heart, makes me understand that there's so much more about him I may haven't seen yet.

"Wait, I want to show you something." Harry says, grabbing my hand to prevent me from entering the little studio room like we always do, and instead follow him along the rest of the hallway. It was pretty easily understandable Tiffany would be officially hired at some point, so the interview didn't last too long to be over in those conditions. For now, she was left to focus on rescheduling the shows that didn't happend in the end of last year, and then think about possible interviews for Harry.

Me and him, having not so hard work as hers, calmly finished our drinks at the cafe and drove back to the studio, feeling like it to end the day well. But maybe our visit today is about to be a little different from what it usually is.

After softly leading me to de very last door, Harry opens it and lets me in. I was expecting everything, at this point, but the classic grand piano, graciously placed in the middle of the equally dark room, still catches my surprise.

"How was I to have never known about the existence of this room?" I ask as he closes the door behind me and comes to stand in front of me, still holding my hand. The elegance of the environment in the room is matched - if not overtaken - by Harry's itself. My head spins at the warmth of his closeness and the satisfied look and smirk he gives me under the faint brown light.

"You never looked for it." He replies and the way he does makes me think that he means something else than what meets the ear. But I shrug it away, anyway, tilting my head to look behind him at the immense piano. There's nothing else in the room, except for some microphones, and there isn't really any need to, since nothing else filling the space would be noticeable besides the instrument that does that job by itself.

Harry turns around at my action, looking at it too, and leads me again to sit at it, side by side. We face the keys in front of us but none of us really does anything with them. "I don't know how to play piano." I claim sadly, looking at him already wondering at me, making it obvious to him that I am the one truly waiting for the other to do something. He shifts his gaze to the keys, acknowledging my words.

"I don't know much either..." He lets his words drift away while he raises his hands to the keyboard and immediately starts playing something I don't recognize. I watch the way he carefully moves his fingers to press the right keys at the right time, and the focused frown on his face while he calculates his movements.

I had never imagined how good he'd look playing a piano. It just never was something to cross my mind among all the things he makes me think of. But if I had, I'd never be able to realise it properly until I got to actually experience it. Which I am now, and it is happening just for me, something that still gives my butterflies a good reason to fly around.