i.
Harry has a bit of a dilemma.
Okay, it wasn't really a dilemma at all, mostly just him being an idiot. He'd gotten to the venue he was preforming at in Amsterdam probably four hours too early, took a nap on a very uncomfortable leather couch in a more or less cramped dressing room, and woke up with a crick in his neck to Harry Lambert's something short of an apprentice Y/N hovering over him with a confused look and a smoothie straw tucked between her lips. And instead of being normal and saying he'd rather nap some more and wait to get dressed, he agreed to Y/N helping him in his get up for tonight's show right then because he was nervous, having forgotten what this particular garment looked like on himself.
So now he was foggy brained, wondering if he liked it on himself as much as he had liked it on when he first tried it, staring at himself in a full length mirror decorated with clear, translucent bulbs only kicked onto a dim yellow glow. Did he like it? Or did he hate it? Did Y/N like it? She'd been awful quiet behind him as she was straightening out the seams, checking out a stitching she'd fixed up earlier that day. Would everybody else like it?
Truth be told, no matter how many fashion risks he takes and despite the confidence he radiates on stage with them on, Harry is always quite nervous about his choices. It's one thing when he's picking them out and trying them on, but it's another thing entirely when he's about to go out in it in front of thousands of people. And though they never fail to make him feel loved and desired on the stage, he can never shake the fretful feelings beforehand.
"You know what," Y/N starts suddenly, startling him after being quiet for so long, "I thought you and Lamby were losing it when you picked out this top, but it really works," she gives Harry a nod of approval as she stands behind him, straightening out the long, frilly pussy bow at his neck. She tilts around so she shows in the reflection of the mirror, eying him up and down to make sure it was all in order he presumes, before catching his eye and giving him a small smile. Harry enjoyed most when she would fix herself behind him like this – a proper mother getting her daughter ready for prom which he did believe was a movie role she might've been destined to perform, but missed her calling for, "You're killing it. Looks all spiffy and like...dope."
The tense in his body eases some at the compliment, dawning his own smile on his mouth as he looks at himself once again, Spiffy and like...dope." He teases, mocking her, "Wonderful vocabulary choices Y/N, feels like I'm speaking with Yves Saint Lauren himself." She rolls her eyes, swatting his shoulder and reaching around to twist at a button, "What can I say? I've got an eye for Style – y'know, s'in the name n'all."
(He likes to pretend that he has no fear in what he wears with other people around too, and he tries as such especially with Y/N, but he has a suspicious feeling that she sees right through him, though she never calls him out on it).
She groans, pulling from his side completely in route towards her earlier mentioned smoothie, "Alright, enough outta you. One more shit joke and you're g'na have to start dressing yourself."
The both of them know full well that Harry could most likely dress himself but he enjoys not being alone in the dressing room when he's getting ready, and Ayae doesn't come around until a little later so otherwise – as he'd been the first tour – kicking about by himself for a little while (and, well, he definitely could go hang about with everyone else, but sometimes he worries that he's bothering them all and leaves them be...to no fault of their own, just his own looming insecurity). With Y/N around, not only does he have someone to lay out a few separate outfits for his choosing and be there to take care of any potential mishaps, but he has someone to play around with beforehand, and it helps that it was someone like her, it really does. Someone new to this world of hustle and bustle, but manages to keep the same composed smoothie in one hand and suits in the other. Someone who seems completely unbothered by the fact Harry is famous and talks to him like they're just partners for a UNI project. Someone who – without even realizing it – renders him completely at ease.
