Platonic [H.S] (Book 1)

03 | Hypothetical

Harry brings the show to a close by singing the last line of What Makes You Beautiful, sending the crowd into an eruption of screams impossibly louder than before. Lou and I watch the boys make their final rounds, from where we are on the ground off to the side of the stage. They wave to as many people as possible before walking off one of the few exits or jumping down in the gap. Once they have disappeared from view, Lou and I head backstage, and it isn't much longer before Harry and myself are walking towards each other. He is bouncing with every step and still full of energy with the biggest grin on his face that I cannot help but reciprocate.

"Hey, that was an awesome show!" I cheer as he accepts my high five. He locks our fingers together and holds onto my hand, nodding enthusiastically.

"That was so much fun," he agrees before ticking his head towards his dressing room. "Come on."

He leads me there by hand and opens the door, gesturing for me to enter first. I shake my head and usher him past me so he can start getting organised to head back to the hotel. I shut the door behind us, and the noise of the chaos in the hallway dwindles to a quiet hum.

Watching Harry get changed is something I have grown accustomed to over the years. It's never awkward, even if the role is in reverse and I am the one getting changed. We are never bothered or embarrassed about things like this around each other. We both know how to respect the other in this situation. So I pull out my phone from my back pocket and sit down on an armchair in the corner of the room while he does what he needs to do.

"Should I keep my jeans on?" He questions himself aloud as he pulls a white jumper on over his head.

"Do you feel hot in them?"

Since he has spoken out loud, I decided to supply an answer but receive nothing in return. I look up from my phone screen to the sight of him with a playful smirk on his lips. He slowly reaches down for his belt, teasing, without breaking eye contact with me. I shake my head and roll my eyes into the back of my skull, before returning to scrolling my Twitter timeline, not at all fazed by his boyish charm.

"Hurry up, Styles."

"Nah, I'll leave them on."

He loudly laughs to himself, and I have to smack my hand over my mouth to stop myself from laughing at his random bout of laughter. Harry tends to be so strange sometimes, and laughter and acknowledgement will only encourage him to be more of a goofball. He folds up the shirt he was wearing onstage and gathers a few of his belongings in the room, packing them into his holdall. At the sound of it zipped, I lock my phone and drop it on my lap before looking up at him. He is changed and sitting on the couch with a smile playing on his lips from across the room.