You’re a famous too and you & Harry try to keep your relationship a
secret but one by one the boys find out. But they don’t tell you they
know, they try to get it out of you instead. Like Monica & Chandler
on Friends when the others find out!
Harry is in a relationship with y/n who is also a famous singer. They
keep the relationship secret because of fans upset and management etc.
They both attend the Brits and y/n performs a song she’s written, Secret
Love Song (I know it’s by little mix, but for the benefit of this its
y/n’s) During the song she starts crying on stage and looking at Harry.
Making it obvious they are together, so it’s all over the front pages
the next day, but has a positive response from fans
This is kind of the “Part 2″ of Relations, which I wrote earlier this week. I’m actually super happy with this story and how it came together. It’s a bit long, but I think it’s worth it. I hope you all like it too!
Your manager chose not to torture you again after that particular evening. You were never forced to hang out with Harry at any kind of event, which honestly bummed you out a little bit. After Harry had kissed you in the hotel hallway, the two of you had started chatting via text pretty regularly. He wasn’t always close by, but he always made an effort to send you a quick hello or ask how your day was going.
It started out as a friendship; it was what both of you thought was the safest, most reasonable option. Obviously, he had kissed you for a reason and that reason kind of went beyond the borders of it being simply a platonic relationship. But you had also only met each other the one time and that wasn’t enough to move to another level just yet. Maybe if you lived in the same place for longer than a couple of weeks at a time, you could have made something work. But, for now, you were friends who were getting to know each other and you were both enjoying that stage immensely.
You had never met anyone who seemed so invested in your interests and life than Harry did. Even when you knew he was busy, he would still take time to ask you questions about your life; your family, where you grew up, your hobbies, your music, even simple things like your favorite flower or the kind of tea you liked to drink.
About six months later, you came home from a long day at the studio to find a huge bouquet of flowers – your favorite type – on your doorstep with a note attached. When you picked it up, your face broke into a wide grin.
I hope you like the flowers. You were right; they are really pretty. Still think you have them beat, though. I’m around this week and would love to see you. Give me a call.
Despite your best efforts, you felt your face start to flush immediately. Harry’s words always had that effect on you. You’d by lying if you said you didn’t get butterflies every time you saw that he had sent you a text.
You had met up with Harry that evening, opting to hang out at his apartment as to avoid any unwanted paparazzi and gawking. It felt as though you had been best friends for years, your conversations were so seamless and comfortable. You found yourself sipping a glass of wine while sitting on his couch, legs sprawled over his lap while you laughed at his 15th stupid joke of the night. By the time you realized it was well past midnight, you were both a little tipsy and a little sleepy.
“I should go.” You said, needing to hold on to the wall to steady yourself as you stood up.
“You’re not gonna drive, are you?” Harry asked.
You had driven to his house, but you knew you couldn’t drive home with the amount of wine you had consumed. Thankfully, you didn’t live too far away and could walk home and pick up your car the next day.
“Stay.” He requested, putting a hand on your arm. “I have lots of space.”
You were hesitant, but he was looking at you so poignantly that you couldn’t say no. He didn’t want you to walk home alone at this time of night, especially not when you were slightly drunk.
He made up his spare bedroom for you and, while it was
lovely and comfortable, you couldn’t fall asleep knowing that he was only down
the hall in his own bed. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the ease of your
friendship and how he made you feel, or maybe you were just constantly harking
back to your hotel kiss six months earlier, but all you wanted to do was wander
into his room and curl up next to him. It had nothing to do with sex at this
point, you just wanted to be near him.