I’m sure it’s been said before but the thing that kills me the most about the ‘listen to what she listens to’ video is how Harry poses for the photo without a second thought. Like it’s a regular thing for them to do because of course it would be.
How many silly photos does Nick have on his phone of Harry and vice versa? Photos of them driving around London while Nick tries to educate Harry on east vs west coast rap, and Harry isn’t really getting it but he could listen to Nick talk about music all day so he snaps a few shots of him mid-sentence to capture the moment.
Or lounging on Nick’s sofa paying more attention to one another than The Simpsons playing in the background. Harry was laying weird so when he sits up to get some water his hair is sticking up in a million directions from static. Nick makes him pose for 10 different shots at different angles to get as much mockery out of it as possible. Harry is making a grumpy face but Nick can see the barely contained smirk peaking out.
Or shopping at an overpriced, artsy antiques store and taking turns posing with a kitschy floor lamp they spot in the back corner.
How many candids do Aimee or Daisy or Pixie have of the two of them acting like complete idiots together on a night out, their bodies half blurred from movement as they laugh together?
There you sat alone on a barstool in the corner of the L.A nightclub with a drink you hadn’t touched in your hand.
Harry had flown you out to L.A for a few days from your university in New York so he could spend his birthday weekend with you.
You had never really liked Los Angeles and were always pretty reluctant to stay there, but you knew this weekend was about him.
You couldn’t help but feel sick as the strobe lights and loud music made an irritating concoction.
His west coast “friends” had thrown him a party to celebrate his legality in the states. Everyone was nearly drunk, well everyone but you. Clubs and alcohol had never really been you scene. There was just something about sweaty bodies and whiskey that didn’t appeal to you.
You tried to fight the sinking feeling in your chest when you saw girls upon girls attempting to get Harry’s attention. They were all beautiful west coast girls with long legs and perfect bodies adorn by outfits that probably cost more than your whole college tuition.
You were just a normal college girl who bought all of her clothes from Target and Forever 21, not American Apparel and Tom Ford.
Why Harry had ever chosen you rather than any of the girls all over him right now was beyond you. You never understood it, and you were waiting for the day that he’d realize you weren’t good enough for him. The day he’d walk out the door with your heart.
This place seemed so foreign to you. It was crowded with famous nobodies who’d pretend to give two shits about Harry.
It was nearly time for cake, and by cake you meant a cake that was far too big and expensive to be edible. Everyone surrounded Harry at the table where the cake was placed. They began singing while slurring all the words while patting him on the back causing him to show the beautiful smile you’d fallen in love with. You stood at the back of the crowd keep your distance. As the song came to an end, a girl squealed “make a wish Harry!” which sounded like nails on a chalkboard to you. He blew out the candles causing everyone to cheer.
After everyone started to file out, two girls with blonde hair, way too blonde to be natural, came up to him and asked if they could get a picture. He complied of course, smiled big and wrapped his arms around their waists as the two girls kissed his cheeks as the flash went off. That was when his eyes caught yours. He saw the hurt in your eyes and you saw the shame in his.
Guilt washed over him when he realized he’d neglected you all night. He knew you didn’t know anyone here, he knew clubs weren’t really your scene, and he knew you weren’t a fan of L.A, but he had begged you to come here to help celebrate his birthday with him only for him to ignore you.
That was when you realized you could never fit into this high profile lifestyle.
You turned around and made your way to the exit.
It was hot and humid, but refreshing compared to the stuffy air in the club.
You stumbled back when what felt like a million flashes went off. That only added to the throbbing in your head making you dizzier. You almost fell back when you felt someone catch you.
“I’ve got you love,” Harry whispered pushing your hair away from your sweaty forehead. “Get away from her! Can’t you see she’s ill?” He yelled at the paparazzi. Harry was never one to raise his voice, but when it came to you, he’d do anything to keep you safe. He took you into his arms and carried you to the black car waiting for him in front of the club.
He laid you in the seat next to him. “C'mon baby, stay with me,” he told you urgently while you struggled to stay conscious in your nebulous state.
Harry sat in the chair next to your hospital bed where you lay sleeping. Harry’s hand had been in yours the whole time.
“Please wake up love. I’m so sorry I was being a proper dick tonight. I know you hate that scene and you only came to make me happy. Those people mean nothing to me. You were my birthday wish when I blew out those candles. Please baby, just wake up and I’ll never go to those clubs again, I swear it. I love you,” Harry pleaded with such desperation in his voice it was enough to break anyone’s heart.
He felt his hand being squeezed and quickly shot his head up to see you with a weak smile on your face and your eyes barely open.
“C'mon here Harry,” you said with a raspy voice.
He took you in his arms and pulled away looking deeply into your eyes. I love you, (Y/N).“
"I love you too, Haz. Happy Birthday, baby,” you said bringing his lips to yours.
And that was his only birthday wish…you safe in his arms.
NOW is the time to tweet evening DJ’s with your requests for Home! I’ve got a few suggestions for you to get started! Remember not to spam, to be polite, and to use proper hashtags– (Where you are, it’s still “Harry Day” so please still use #ProjectHomeHarryDay in addition to #ProjectHome).