I NEED a BLURB ABOUT HOLDING HARRY BC HE is sad about his performance and you comfort him pleaseeee
Here you go, have some fluff :)
He was nervous.
He didn’t want me or anyone else to know he was, but I could tell. And who wouldn’t be? It was his first performance in over a year, and his first ever as a solo artist. I would have been nothing but a ball of nerves if it were me. He’d paced back and forth in the green room, spreading his fingers out as far as they would go, bringing them back into a fist over and over again, repeating the cycle each time he’d make it to the other end of the room and turn around on his heels.
I’d sat quietly on the sofa, nibbling on the display of fruit and crackers that sat in the middle of the coffee table. I was nervous too, but I said nothing unless it was to reply to a question, giving him the most space I possibly could. I’d asked him earlier if he would rather I took a seat in the audience, but he assured me he wanted me backstage, waiting for his return. Though he never expressed why exactly, I took it to mean he wanted me to be there for him, for him to see my face and perhaps share an embrace after he’d walked off stage, and I took comfort in that.
I’d watched his first performance on the monitor in the green room, sitting on the edge of my seat, my hands tucked underneath my thighs as I bit my bottom lip. By the end of the song, I’d felt my eyes well up, quickly wiping them away with the back of my hand before he saw. I could tell as soon as he walked in that he was less than pleased with himself. He’d missed a couple of notes, his voice raspier than usual from all the practicing, and once he’d even had to drop a word at the end of the phrase due to lack of air. I knew he had to be mentally scolding himself. But I’d thought it was flawless. He’d done it. He was Harry Styles, rockstar.