Harry Styles Love On Tour | Philadelphia

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Harry looked amazing in Philly. Great colors. That’s all I’ll say!

So pretty.
Harry Lambert has been killing it to be fair. 😍😋

It’s worth nothing that Philadelphia is located in Pennsylvania which is where Zayn lives now, but I doubt that means anything significant about this show.

Harry trying to get people to look at his ass is so funny. He keeps mentioning it at every show lmao
Ugh, his smile.

Full Show:

Harry harassing an audience member for texting lmao:

Neon Red – Chapter 17

(DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. It’s important to remember this is all totally fabricated, embellished, and exaggerated for entertainment purposes.)

If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy?

If our love’s insanity, why are you my clarity?

Zedd – Clarity

Without him, I felt halved. Pitted. Devoid of something major. With him I felt stoned. Addled. Euphoric. Kamikaze. These extremes had disordered my life beyond functioning. I couldn’t tell whether I was safer with him or without him, and that scared the hell out of me.

As I exited the elevator on the 30th floor, he was stood at the end of the hall, leaning back against the wall and watching the ceiling. The sole of one Chelsea boot was planted irreverently against the white paint. He looked every bit the college dropout he was. Graphic tee featuring the Rolling Stones tongue logo. Black ripped jeans accentuating every slope and curve of his figure. 

When he heard the elevator deposit me, he started down the hall without speaking. I broke into a full-on sprint, crashing into him midway and shoving him backwards through the stairwell door. Our breathing was erratic, amplified by the acoustics as if it had passed through a megaphone first. Thankfully, the chances of anyone choosing to take the stairs this high up were slim. Still, I didn’t give a fuck who found us at the moment. This was war. This was our reckoning.

We stumbled backwards onto the small, ill-lit landing; his back thudding against the wall. Our kiss was manic, like two feral dogs mauling each other in an alleyway. “I missed you so fucking much, baby…” I rasped. “Youh hear me? Youh fuckin’ hear me?!” He nodded, slumping down the wall as if his knees had given out. I dragged him back up, clutching his shirt at the waist.  

Tears clouded my eyes. For the first time in a long time, I grabbed two fistfuls of his ass, massaging it, reacquainting myself with it, slipping my hands beneath his waistband to feel his bare flesh. Then I broke the kiss and planted my lips to his neck, detecting his pulse against my open mouth.

“Z…” he panted, gulping for air. “Don’t stop…don’t stop…” He was so ready for me. He had been dying without me. The deprivation was self-inflicted though, so I felt no sympathy. He had cut me off. I was glad he had suffered. I should’ve made him suffer more. Now he knew how much he needed me, and he was begging me to make love to him. Touching himself, losing all composure. I had done that to him. Only me.

“Who’ve youh been sleepin’ with?” was my crazed whisper. “They’re not takin’ care of youh…I can see it all over your face…” He looked miserable now; regretting how accurate I was.

“No one.”

“Bullshit.” I stopped and grabbed ahold of his face with one hand, “Youh can’t goh without it that long. Who was my cheap fuckin’ replacement? Huh?”

“N-no one. I swear—”

“Yeah, you’re stutterin’ now. Youh too embarrassed to say?”

“Fuck you…”

“Youh done punishin’ me, then? Youh feel like an idiot yet? That other person must’ve made youh feel like shit—”

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!”

“I know youh want to…”

“Leave me alone…” he croaked.

“Youh knew that shit could never work, right?” My lips curled into a heinous grin. “Youh know how we are. Youh know we can’t be apart that long—”

“I didn’t have a choice…” he wept. I away wiped his tears with my sleeve.

“Youh almost killed me…” I gritted out, losing all levity. Apparently I was crying too, although I was utterly incognizant of the fact. Anodyne chemicals commandeered my brain after reconciling with him. Endorphin overload. I could fall over right then and there and check out, OD-ing on sheer elation.

He touched my face weakly, swiping the tears away before dragging his fingers down my lips. He was tactile as hell, addicted to touch. There was no place on my body his fingers and tongue hadn’t explored, and which hadn’t hankered for him as badly as I did. I liked when he studied my face, ghosting his fingertips over each of my features individually; reading my expression like a blind man. I would always remember the tentative chill of his fingertips as they landed on my eyelids or coursed over my brows. I would always remember the plush shove of his lips against my temple. I would always remember the way his breath felt as he exhaled against my face mid-kiss.

If I wasn’t giving him attention, God knows he sought it somewhere else. He liked to be liked, and even worse, he liked to be loved. To command the attention of a room. To hold court. And rightfully so. He was the sort of person you ought to adore, you ought to love, you ought to put first, and he felt slighted if even a passing stranger denied him that.

“What’s her name?” I demanded.

“It’s not important. She wasn’t you.” 

I dug both hands into his hair and gently scratched his scalp, whispering that if I ever found out, I would kill them both. Now he was overtaken with shivers, biting his lip and bending his knees as they weakened. I tugged, wrenching my fingers around his hair, and his breath quickened. His mouth parted to let out airless little gasps that I followed with my eyes. Suddenly I grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt collar, jarring him from his ecstasy.

“Why the fuck wouldn’t youh answer the phone for me?”

“Because I hate you.” His eyes dropped to my lips.

“Fair enough.” I kissed him again. He wrapped his arms around my neck and I crushed his waist so hard his feet left the floor.

“Come back to my room…” I demanded, roughly.

“No.”

“Noh? Youh crazy?”

“You’re gonna take it too far, and I got things to do before the show.”

“Haz, just come back to the fuckin’ room for a minute, what the fuck?”

“No, Z,” he shook his head and straightened his shirt as I backed away. “I can’t ditch the people I made plans w—”

“Then what the fuck are we even doing then??” I turned to leave, slinging the door open.

“Wait!” He grabbed my arm, pleading with me not to go. “Just a few more minutes alright?”

“Fuck off, Haz. I’m fine for the mind games. Should’ve never even asked youh to meet me here—”

“Mate, go! Just fucking go!” he spat, watching me with a derisive raise of his lip. “All you give a fuck about is what you want. Why can’t we ever do what I want?!”

“Because youh don’t know what the fuck you want!” I shouted, charging him. He immediately shut down, body language becoming defeated, eyes averted. “One day you’re here, one day you’re there, you’re up, you’re down, youh want me, youh don’t want me, you’re all over the fuckin’ place!” He shut his eyes and I took my foot off the gas. All of this was worthless. He wanted to pick a fight but was in no condition to finish it. He just wanted to make me react so he could guilt me later. I wasn’t going to feel guilty for him.

“I won’t apologize for what happened in August, Haz…because I felt like it needed to do it, okay?  Whether youh understand it or not—”

“And that’s exactly the problem. Youh don’t ever think about me unless you want something. Otherwise you just never consider me—”

“I did consider youh!” I hollered, slamming my hand against the wall beside his head. “But that doesn’t mean I have to build my fuckin’ life around youh!” He despaired, shutting his eyes again.

“Look, Haz….m’sorry for shoutin’. It’s nothin’, anyweh…” I sobered. I could literally feel my heart ripping, watching the things he was going through. There was simply no fight left in him. “It means nothing to me, Haz. It’s just something for my family and her family and the media to talk about, that’s all, babe. Soh I won’t apologize for it, and I won’t allow youh to make me into the bad guy when I’m standin’ right here ready to be with youh!”

“I don’t won’t this…” he croaked, slumping to the floor against the wall. “I don’t want this fucked up version of you. It makes me feel cheap. It makes me feel like we’re destructive and wrong.” His voice cracked. “You think she’s better than me…”

“That’s not true. Don’t measure yourself up to her like that. We’re not a part of that world remember? That world doesn’t dictate who we are or what we are or how we can be. She can’t fuckin’ compare to youh…trust me…”

“But I want to be a part of that world. Did you ever even consider that?” he glanced up at me, face reddened. “I don’t want to be hidden. I want that world to see us and know us.”

“Right, fuckin’ great, broh. Nothin’ I do is every enough, right?”

“I want all of you. Not just the stupid fucking secrets. Not just your guilt, mate. I want to be a part of your pride; I want to be one of the parts you’re not ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed of youh—”

“You are! And I…” he sniffled, roughly wiping the tears away. “And I don’t care how much you try to pretend you’re not. The simple fact that you’re fucking engaged is an indictment on everything I am and everything we have together.”

“Haz, I can’t do this right now.” I uttered, eyelids falling halfway. Despondence seemed to creep up the stairwell and surround us. My heart was worn out. Twitching like it was short-circuiting. He genuinely believed I was embarrassed by him, and in his defense, I hadn’t really given him a reason to feel differently. I squatted to make myself level with him and took ahold of his hands.

“Baby, I will never fuckin’ marry her.” I kissed his hands like an idiot. He had no idea how much I despised the idea of marriage. Marriage was a chore. A long way around life with someone who was bound to annoy you. And marrying young was one of the most incapacitating things a person could do to themselves.

“I don’t want you to be with anyone else,” he whispered. “I don’t want you to touch anyone else. Please, please don’t…” His voice was hoarse, whimpery. He kept whispering please. Wrapping my arms around his body. Putting our lips together. It was too fucking much. I couldn’t believe the way I’d broken him.

“Haz, wait…wait…”

“What?”

“Maybe we should just cut our losses?”

“What? Stop…” He was out of breath. For the first time ever, I sincerely refused him. I pulled his hands away from my face and stood up. It was like a weight lifted off my shoulders. 

“Let’s just be done with this….alright?” I was out of my head, but I knew I was making sense. “Let’s just be friends again, broh…”

“You’re insane.” He marveled, standing with the help of the wall. “Seriously…this isn’t funny, Zayn. Stop fucking with my head!”

“Youh first, bastard!” At that, he ran his hands down his face, and clenched his jaw closed. “M’serious. All the pain, all the weirdness…it could just goh if we agree to stop here. Right now…noh hard feelin’s” I smiled a delirious smile. “Aren’t youh tired Haz? Imagine how gud things would be if we didn’t have to be soh mad at each other all the time? Fuck it, broh, let’s just be friends again? Okay?”

I had never seen him look so incensed. There was a different Harry standing before me now. Still, he didn’t curse, or scream, and he didn’t hit me like I knew he wanted to. His nostrils flared a bit and betrayed how livid he was. Then he simply said “Yeah, ok.” and took off down the stairs. I had no idea what those final words meant, but I wasn’t going to stick around and find out.

I took off back to my room with an air of relief. It felt so good to be rid of him. Finally rid of that sickening, addictive cage of a relationship. So constrictive and haunting. Handicapping us since we broke every boundary back in 2011 and dove into each other. Maybe I was kidding myself entirely and I’d be begging for his forgiveness by the end of the day, but even a false sense of relief was enough to make me feel a 100 stone lighter.

Resisting him wasn’t easy, of course, and I still couldn’t shake the notion that I must have him, but it would get better with time. Detoxing would be a long and strenuous process. It always was. But ultimately it would make me well again. I had already gotten over the withdrawals in the first days and weeks I was forced to go without him. And as with all addictions, when you couldn’t find one fix you resorted to others. So, I got high nearly every day, watched too much porn (gay porn at that, not my usual go to) and  just tried to forget him. So I’d just do all of that again.

And it didn’t help that I still had to see him every day, reminding me that no amount of porn could quell the urge to be buried deep within his heat; having him clench around me and groan like I was disemboweling him, but again that would all have to be managed with time. Maybe eventually I could quit weed too…and video games. Maybe getting rid of all addictions would ensure I never went back to him. It was certainly worth a try. 

(Thanks for reading! ❤️)

Neon Red – Chapter 16

(DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. It’s important to remember this is all totally fabricated, embellished, and exaggerated for entertainment purposes.)

“I know places we can go, babe.”

Lykke Li – I know places

August 2013

He hates me. He hates me. He hates me. I couldn’t get it out of my head. He hates me. He wouldn’t let me touch him anymore. He was ignoring me everywhere we went. We hadn’t made eye contact in a month. He hates me. He wouldn’t answer my texts. I’d sent three the night before, and he still hadn’t responded by afternoon the next day. He hates me. I had really fucked up this time. He would never be the same again. We would never be the same again. Not until I called it off. Not until I told him she was gone. He was punishing me. He knew how badly I needed him, yet he wouldn’t answer. I can’t believe people thought he was a nice guy.

“Fuck youh.” I spat, tossing my phone way. “I’m tryin’!” I shouted, to no one but myself, seated cross-legged at the head of my hotel room bed. “I dunno what to do…” I grabbed my phone and went to his text thread again. Cold as stone. Still no response. But there was one from Pez, and a few from Tommo. He had some weird rash growing near his groin and had sent a pic. I tossed my phone away again.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. It felt like my intestines were crawling all over the place, getting entangled, pulling at my other organs. I was starting to sweat. I slammed my head back into the headboard until I was sure something had fractured; whether it was the wood or my skull, I couldn’t tell. I just needed him pick up.

“Now, Haz, now!” I quailed, absently biting the collar of my t-shirt. Would he never love me again? Would he never give a fuck again? He acted like he hated the sight of me; like I was the Elephant Man or something. Like my hands disgusted him. My eyes, my lips. My smell. All the things he used to be addicted to.

What are you afraid of? I asked myself. Quit being a bitch and just call! It rang and rang and kicked over to his voicemail. Shadows were beginning to shift in the room, like everything was edging closer to me. Trying to wall me in; shut me down. But the voicemail was enough for me. I just needed to hear his voice. Even through the phone; even in a generic, indirect way. I hadn’t heard it since the last press junket at the end of August, and it was already the end of September. This was by far the longest we hadn’t talked or texted since we’d met. I called a few more times just to hear the recorded message, heedless of the fact that I was leaving tons of missed calls on his log. He’d probably think I was daft when he eventually saw it.

A knock landed on the door. “Hey….Zayner…” I could hardly summon the energy to utter: “Yeah?”

“Time to head to soundcheck, mate. We’ll head downstairs in about 15.” It was Preston.

“Yeah, got it.” I replied, shutting my eyes and vibrating with an inexplicable rage. I felt like I was five again, back when I simply couldn’t understand when my parents told me I couldn’t have something. It was the worst feeling on the planet. I would sit and cry myself to sleep and convince myself they hated me. Now it felt that way times 1000, because I knew for a fact he did hate me and that I disgusted him. My absolute worst nightmare was to repel people. I felt like I had repelled people my whole life just by being quiet and brown, sat in the corner of the classroom looking suspicious to all the white kids. I never had their approval. Now I was reliving all those apprehensions I felt when he and I first met, back when I thought someone like him would never find interest in someone like me.

“Fuck youh….” I said, tearing up. “I don’t fuckin’ need youh, Haz. Who the fuck do youh think youh are, anyweh? Youh ain’t nothin’ special, maan. You’re average as fuck. Youh think you’re better than me, posh boy?? Youh think you’re too gud to answer the fuckin’ phone for me?!”

I took a few rocky breaths, realizing I looked like a straight up lunatic yelling in an empty room. Plus, I didn’t have a right to be upset. Not technically. I don’t know what I expected of him anyway. I knew he wouldn’t be happy with the news, but I thought he’d eventually understand that an engagement meant nothing at the end of the day if we never actually got married. I had promised him that at least. And he knew me well enough to know I would never marry her or anyone else. That I couldn’t do that to him. So why the fuck was he shutting me out? Exactly what had changed between he and I? Nothing, absolutely nothing. The only thing different is that she had a ring, and that the press would mention us every now and again as if we were making plans. What was so fucked up about that? Especially if it only helped protect he and I in the end?

I couldn’t begin to understand him when he got like this. He was so fucking childish and petty when he got jealous. So fucking weird. I hated that part of him. And he was punishing me like I’d never been punished before in my life. It hurt like hell because I knew I’d lost him for good. How long could he hold a grudge remained the only question to be answered. How long before he warmed up to me again, if ever? He was a warm guy, right? That much I knew. It was difficult to make him angry, and it was difficult to make him act out, but I seemed to be the exception to each one of these things.

He got angry at me often, and blocked me every now and again as a show of defiance. But this time, he just wasn’t answering at all, which was somehow a move crueler than blocking. Because at least with blocking I knew he couldn’t realistically keep me blocked forever, and that he had felt passionately enough to do it. But with him screening every single call for nearly a month, things weren’t looking good. I think he was finally over me.

***********

Later at soundcheck for the first show in Adelaide, Australia, he didn’t look at me once. I fucked around with Lou and Liam as we ran through the songs and watched him isolate himself, occasionally pulling Niall and only Niall into a private conversation at the flank of the room. His mic was set up two places away from mine, which wasn’t surprising. He was probably tired of me stalking around the room with my eyes. I might’ve been freaked out too if I could feel how unflinchingly I stared at him between songs.

The second we were free of performing, my mind went directly back to him. To be honest, it never really left. My eyes darted compulsively in his direction throughout soundcheck, tracking his every move like a P.I. Each time he checked his phone, I took note. Each time he sipped his water, each time he ran his fingers through his hair, each time he adjusted his in-ears, I registered it like a creep.

I knew the patterns of his behavior better than I knew my own. Most of the time I could tell what he was feeling based on how often he pressed his lips to his tattoo or how aggressively he adjusted his mic pack. I had read and studied him for years like a course book. So much so that I could practically sense his moods before he exhibited them. It was insane. I was insane, but this is what he had reduced me to after weeks of stonewalling.

We wrapped up the last song on the setlist and he was off to the side of the room untangling his headphones. That was another ploy he used to shut me out, keeping his headphones on whenever we had to travel together to deter anyone saying anything to him, particularly me.

A deeply annoyed part of me surged forward and before I had consented to the idea of approaching him, I was standing at his side, picking up someone else’s water to justify my being there.

“Hey…” I managed to get out as he popped the grey Beats into place. He then removed them with thinly veiled irritation, lifting his eyebrows in a way that said: “What?”

“Nothin’…I just said: ‘hey’” I grinned. The gesture was not returned. “How are youh, anyweh? Youh gud?”

“Hey, yeah. What’s up?” I took it to be genuine inquiry into what I’d been up to since we’d last spoke, but apparently it must’ve been rhetorical, because he dipped before I could even open my mouth to answer.

I watched him go, eyes slightly widened, in awe of how wrong I’d been. Of how stupidly I’d misinterpreted the exchange. Of how I’d mistaken a passing wussup for a genuine conversation starter. What the fuck was wrong with me? What was I, 14 something? It was such a cringey amateurish thing to do, and my face and neck flushed with embarrassment as I glanced around in hopes no one else had heard. My fingers were shaking when I self-consciously scratch my eyebrow. Read the room you, idiotNo one wants to talk to you. I scolded myself, following the crowd out of the door.

Before the show we gathered backstage and did our normal charge-up routine. When we put our hands together and sang Eddy Grant’s “Electric Avenue,” I broke my neck to shove past Liam’s hand to lay mine on top of Haz’s. He didn’t look up at me like I’d hoped, avoiding all manner of connection, but I squeezed his fingers and held them a bit longer than what was appropriate.

Just the feel of his warm flesh against mine after so long made me sick with butterflies that rocketed up my esophagus into my throat…choking me. I could practically taste the smooth, clean textures of his skin against my tongue; skin I used to study and longed to kiss the blood from. Feathery soft. Always flushed for me. Always scorching and inviting. Pulsating in anticipation of my touch. Clenching in anticipation of my entry. Our bodies crashing, grinding, locking together like super magnets.

I missed eating his ass like a pig at a trough. Sucking on his nipples until he was pulling the hair from my scalp and gasping insensible things. Missed him proposing to me over and over and over again before he came. Missed him wrapping his legs around me before we fell asleep. Missed him joining me in the shower where I would kiss him beneath the water until he couldn’t breathe, then bend him over against the wall for the next 20 minutes or more.

He walked past now on his way to the stage, and I grabbed ahold of the tail end of his t-shirt, following him up the few steps to the darkened area just behind the screen. The crowd was roaring. I could hear my heartbeat between my ears, feel the bass of the music in the soles of my feet. The floors were jumping.

That brief handhold must’ve gotten to him too, because as we stood waiting on the cue to head out, he inched closer and closer until our arms were brushing, making my stomach knot. Then in a flash, he was gone, rushing from behind the screen to captivate a sea of screaming faces for the next couple of hours; forgetting about me.

*********

“Hey, Zayn, mate.” Lou drawled, climbing onto the steps to sit beside me. I chucked my chin at him, before watching the audience in a mindless daze. Out there, there was movement but very little distinction. A howling mass rising out of the shadows with glow sticks and neon-colored signs. A tsunami of sound that rushed the stage, reverberating against the farthest walls before ebbing back out to sea.

“I missed this so much…d’you know what I mean?” Lou asked.

“F’sure. There’s nothin’ like it, yeah?”

“But to be honest, the break could’ve been a little longer, if I’m fair,” he smirked. I glanced down at him with a half-hearted grin.

“Yeah, but, that’s always the case, innit?” I shrugged. “Might as well get it over with. Has to be done.”

“Of course, of course.” Then suddenly he grabbed my knee. “Bro! No fooking way…check out that sign just there…read it, read it!”

“Gross…” I said, shuddering and sneering. It was something about where we should collectively blow our load.

“That’s so sick, mate! What’s wrong with that girl’s mum?? Has she even seen it?!”

“She probably made it after she got here when the mum wasn’t lookin’. That’s what I’d do.”

“How d’they even get them things past security though??”

“I guess they don’t have the manpower to read 10,000 signs before they let everyone in. It’s a risk they have to take….which would explain why we see soh many bloody rude ones.”

“Rude doesn’t even begin to cover it. Honestly, mate,” he laughed, glancing up at me with squinty eyes.

“Alright lads! I’d say it’s going pretty good!” Liam declared, coming to stand beside the stairs with his hands on his hips. His black t-shirt was already soaked with sweat. All that dancing really took it out of him. I bet he smelled pretty ripe too.

“First show back, boys! We’re killing it.”

“Sure thing, Payno.” Lou said. “And I was really killin’ your mum last night….”

Heyyyy…” Liam scowled. Lou laughed uncontrollably.

I just shook my head and glanced off down the stage. Haz was walking around, waving at fans, drinking water, tossing the water onto crew members below the stage. Someone threw an open water bottle back at him, but he ducked. It skidded across the stage leaving a massive trail of water that someone was sure to bust their ass on later. It’d probably be Payno.

As we moved on to another song, I took my place on the left quarter of the stage and grew acquainted with a few beaming faces in the audience. People I felt comfortable singing to. There was girl with purple hair holding a sign that said it was her birthday. I mouthed happy birthday to her and she broke down into tears like I’d kicked her puppy. The surrounding fans comforted her. I didn’t know whether to feel smug that I had that sort of effect on people, or feel terrible because I had made her sob and she probably wouldn’t stop until the show ended.

When I turned to head across stage, Haz was right there, skipping backwards until he ran into me. We collided and he spun around, smiling blindly, as if he was caught off guard. I waited for him to stop smiling once he saw who he had run into, but he didn’t. He just took a deep breath and lifted his brows, as if to say, “this job is crazy”.

Even though it wasn’t a particularly meaningful smile, and he would’ve offered it regardless of who he ran into, it still kicked my heart down my chest with a steal-toe boot. I struggled to find a quick and playful response, but he danced away and I knew I had blown my chance.

Thankfully he seemed to warm up to me after that, and we spent the rest of the show catching each other’s eyes across the stage and sharing more smiles than I could count. It left me swimming and feeling higher than I had in a while. I got really lucky when he decided to say something to me between songs, even drawing me into a semi-whisper. His slightest touch made my stomach do flips. He liked my facial hair. I had shaved my beard down to just a mustache and a neat little goatee and he couldn’t stop laughing. I told him I’d always wanted a mustache and goatee like this since I was a kid, and that my dad used to draw it on me with a Sharpie. That really cracked him up.

Still, there was something in our interactions that let me know things weren't as they should've been

Still, there was something in our interactions that let me know things weren’t as they should’ve been. The banter almost seemed forced. Unnatural. Like he was just looking to fill up the awkwardness and silences that tended to grow between us more than any of the other boys. I couldn’t help but notice he still didn’t interact with me the way he interacted with Niall, Liam, and even Lou. Everything he said to me seemed obligatory, or pitying. Like he felt sorry for me standing around waiting on him to say something. I could sense how eager he thought I was, and damn if he wasn’t right. I felt like I was crushing on him all over again, desperate for a single glance my way, and gearing myself up with cool responses in case he actually spoke to me again. Fuck, I was pathetic.

**********

The next morning, we were told to meet in the hotel conference room for a meeting on the upcoming Japan leg of the tour. I made my way down after barely getting any sleep the night before, since Lou and I had stayed up smoking and pigging out. When I got to the meeting room, I ran into Niall who was wearing a tank top, oversized pajama pants, and thong sandals.

“Zayn, man…it’s soh early. What’re they thinkin’ wakin’ us up like this? How’re we supposed to get any sleep” I laughed a little. “What’s up with you? How’ve you been?”

“Shit, Nialler, just chillin’. Can’t wait to get back in me bed.”

“I know, right. Goin’ straight back to bed, me. Watch. Try and wake me again. Ain’t happenin’!” He ran his hand back and forth across his flat hair which was still a little damp from his shower. His face was swollen too, like he’d gotten even less sleep than I did.

After the team assembled, we migrated into the 10th story room where they provided fresh coffee and bagels. There was also a fruit arrangement in the center of the massive table, which you had to lunge across the wood to reach. As we picked our seats, most of the boys spread out away from each other, but I brushed past everyone and took the seat directly next to Harry’s. If he had any sort of reaction to my being there, he certainly didn’t let it show.

Three slides in, my mind was reeling, losing focus from the agenda. I drummed my fingers until I realized how loud and distracting it was for the speakers and immediately stopped. I was sick of studying him and trying to figure out where I stood after everything. He was so dialed down and low-energy of late; barely interacting with anyone else. Had it affected him that much? Had his personality entirely changed? All the warmth he had exhibited towards me onstage yesterday seemed to vanish in a matter of hours. Now he sat and looked straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge my existence in the least, or the fact that I’d gone out of my way to sit near him.

“Yourf mood swings are out of this fuckin’ world, youh know that?” I muttered. “I can’t keep up with youh, Haz.” He frowned but remained silent and kept looking ahead. Pretending to listen intently as Paul broke down what we could expect in the upcoming shows. The press, the meet and greets, a few surprises for the setlist. The usual. He was assisted by a member of Modest who’d Skyped in to join us from the UK at like 10PM at night.

Haz picked his coffee up to drink it, and it was then that I noticed his fingers were trembling. My heart skipped a beat. He was just as fucked up as I was. He wasn’t as unfeeling as he was pretending to be; it was all an elaborate façade, one that he had sold without fault. In truth, everything was pinned up, making him quiver for an outlet. He probably wanted to scream at me, punch me, spit in my face. I couldn’t imagine how much he must’ve been holding back since the last time I saw him in August.

My spirit sank even lower then, as I watched him set the cup back down and draw his hand under the table, where he clutched them together in his lap. His knee was jumping too, far more wired than my own.

“Youh okay?” I whispered, despite the fact that we were isolated on the far end of the table, removed from earshot of everyone else in the room. He’d gone over here to escape me, not anticipating that I would follow.

“Haz?” I followed up my question. He just shrugged. “What? Youh mad at me or somethin’?”

“Mate, just pay attention to the fucking meeting, alright?” he snapped, raising his voice at me for the first time in forever. I swallowed it like a bitter pilled. He was not ok. I was not ok. But there had to be a way to make him see we could be good again. He needed to understand we were still us. We would always be us. He needed to know he could trust me. Why didn’t he trust me?

When he brought his hand back up onto the table for another sip, I sat mine beside his and brushed them together every chance I could. He eventually caught on to what I was doing and moved his cup away in annoyance, later clutching his hands together in his lap. I bumped his knee with mine a few times. When he scooted away, I followed. Eventually I just went for it, snaking my hand beneath the table and onto his lap to brush his fingers. They were still trembling, but they didn’t shy away like I thought they would.

I flipped his palm over and drug my fingers between his, as though I was going to interlock them, but never really did. I knew it was a tease he couldn’t resist. Holding hands had always been his favorite thing to do. I think he felt that it validated us. Now his were flexing, clawing for mine now, not wanting it to stop. Still tentative, but very much aware of what they had been missing. I heard him exhale a little, propping his free arm onto the table and hiding his mouth with his fist.

I spread his hand wide and ran my lead finger in feathery circles around his palm, watching his stomach clench visibly. He sank lower in his chair, ready to melt onto the floor. This was the sort of communication I lived for. Touch was all we needed. It conveyed far more than words ever could, and was straight to the point.

All the fine hairs on the back of my neck stood up as his response jumpstarted my nerves. I let my thumb caress his fingertips, back and forth, up and down, each one delivering a new jolt of electricity. Eventually he caved and interlocked our fingers, squeezing them enough to let me know he was enjoying it. I read so much in his touch, too much to unpack, but mostly longingCraving. He’d been dying for my attention. Dying for me to chase him. I felt like an idiot for not trying sooner. I hope he could read how glad I was to be near him. To have him be receptive of me again. I hoped he knew I would kiss him the first chance I got.

When he was unquestionably ready, I let his hand go and massaged the inside of his thigh. He sighed in a gratified agitation, sitting back in his chair and spreading his legs for me. My hand slipped slowly up and down his inner-thigh, squeezing my way up to his crotch where I let my knuckles brush his bulge repeatedly. He clasped the armrests of the chair and shifted in his seat a little, before shoving my hand back towards his crotch as I pulled away. It said more. It said hurry.

I was so glad we were the only two on this side of the table, otherwise we’d be screwed. I said fuck it and full-on grabbed his cock, stuffing my fingers down between his balls and the seat. It was so fucking soft and hot I could feel my mouth water and all the blood rush to my own dick in a single heartbeat. I slid my hand deeper and Haz winced. His knee hit the bottom of the table as his excitement mounted and became uncontrollable.

Across the table, Liam coughed and cleared his throat in a way that warned us to cut it out. It was becoming obvious what was going on. I hadn’t realized how conspicuous my arm looked, extending out towards his lap in plain view of everyone around us. Good thing most were still focused on the Skype call, and no one had directed their attention our way since the meeting began. We were right back to the same old gimmicks. The same old cheap hedonism. Utter recklessness. I withdrew my hand and Haz clung onto my wrist, not wanting to let go. I kept pulling away and he held onto my fingers until the last possible second. Later I texted him to meet me in the hallway of our floor after the conference ended.

(Thanks for reading!❤️)

Harry Styles Love On Tour | St. Louis


New Merch Available Now: https://www.wyldfleur.store/

Well, well, well…looks like the beard is back. And no, I don’t mean Harry has suddenly spouted an unsightly patch of facial hair.

Her desperation for attention is alarming.

At his latest Love On Tour show in St. Louis, Missouri, Harry was accompanied by his current “girlfriend” who moronically dances to songs he’s written about former “girlfriends” while he stands there in a penis necklace, draped in a pride flag, changing lyrics and wishing that he could be “open.” Yet we’re supposed to believe he’s “dating” her. What a crock of laughable bullshit.

I’m so bitter.

The Crowd:

The Outfit:

The Band:

The Whatever:

Why does he keep sound-checking songs he isn’t going to play?

Is it just me or did he seem a bit hyperactive at this show? Like acting over-the-top? Maybe he was overcompensating because he felt bad for canceling the previous show, but it seems like he amped up the craziness a bit. Whatever. Glad he’s thriving onstage and feeling himself.

He’s so ridiculous lol 🤣


Linking Angela’s comment from the Discussion Post:

Angela: “At 1.58.1.59 “you beautiful beautiful beautiful broad.” Ofc he’s listened Z’s rap…. and then …. bam… 2.13 cross tattoo… 2.17 heart tattoo.”


Linking Fine Line’s comment from the discussion post:

Fine Line: “Golden last night’s in St. Louis minute 2:40… “I’m sorry, he is hoping someday I could be open”…Jeff and O dancing…I don’t understand anything at this point…


Linking an Anon’s comment from the Discussion Post:

Anon: The newest addition to Harry’s preshow playlist “how long do I have to wait for you?” – Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings. Quite telling.

B4C9C48E-AC51-44AD-9AFE-EB28A30C7ED2.jpeg

Zayn’s New Song – Yellow Tape (Transcript & Analysis)


PAGE ONE: INTRODUCTION

PAGE TWO: TRANSCRIPT AND ANALYSIS OF “GRIMEZ”


Yesterday on 9/12/2021 (cough merch drop day cough) Zayn dropped a selfie on Instagram:

And then proceeded to release three new rap songs on Twitter via drop box:

He later deleted the drops for some reason. You can listen to them in one track here:

I will just say it’s interesting that after he released Yellow Metal, a spontaneous song where he revealed he was deeply unhappy in a lot of respects and also hinted at his relationship with Harry, following which he was attacked on the street by Bella Hadid’s disgusting friend who called him a “faggot” I noticed Zayn has now tossed in a dumb obligatory “loving my broad” line into this new “Yellow” song. Sigh. That was a hard stop for me. I’ll try to listen again later after work and cringe past that line to hear the rest of the song. Incredible lyricism from what I’ve heard so far though.



https://www.wyldfleur.store/

PAGE TWO: TRANSCRIPT AND ANALYSIS OF “GRIMEZ”

Neon Red – Chapter 15

(DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. It’s important to remember this is all totally fabricated, embellished, and exaggerated for entertainment purposes.)

**********

“I think I made you up inside my head…”

Sylvia Plath – Mad Girl’s Love Song

We were limitless. I collapsed on top of him, wheezing and unwilling to withdraw. He emitted a soul-stirring warmth around me, occasionally clenching and reminding me of how honored I was to experience this part of him. No one else could enter here. It was the most sacred place on earth. Reserved unquestionably for me alone.

My head reeled. I started to doze, but he shifted, prompting me to finally get up and grab the handcuff keys. All the candles had just about burned out. Still, the silver glinted in the darkness, leading me to them. I climbed back onto the mattress and released one hand, then straddled his waist to release the other. He sat up confusedly, forgetting to remove the blindfold. I took it off for him, tugging it down around his throat and brushing the wild strands from his forehead. Afterwards we stared at each other, panting in the silence.

Suddenly my head snapped to the side, and it took a while to realize he had slapped me. I recovered, acknowledging I deserved it and that I was devoid of a coherent reply. Now we were both stunned, gaping at each other in distrustful awe. Then in a flash, he grabbed the back of my neck and kissed me savagely. Madly. All I could do was hold my breath.

**********

Later as we lay in the unlit quiet, surrounded by nothing but the sound of a lone car passing on occasion, I held him from behind and nuzzled the back of his neck, remembering how I’d done so the first time we touched. I had never inhabited a place so undisturbed. It seemed the building had been vacated by everyone except us. No intrusions to our peace; nothing hindering our crummy little oasis. Though I was aware it was all makeshift and threadbare, and would be leveled with one swift breeze, I still felt untouchable.

As I twisted and lay on my back, blinking up at the ceiling, I sensed a movement at the foot of the bed. Right away my body locked up with fear, and I lacked the strength to even lift my head from the pillow. I gazed inert down the length of my nose, finding the silhouette of a tall, slim woman glaring down at us.

“G?!” I panicked, sitting up and yanking on the lamp switch, only to gasp awake seconds later, inhaling Haz’s clammy skin. I’d fallen asleep against his belly, lying on my stomach towards the lower half of the bed. I crawled around now to make sure no one was behind me, then hopped up to flick on the nightstand lamp. Afterwards I opened the drapes to search the parking lot beneath our room for newcomers. The same three cars were there; as well as the same two dozen crushed beer cans lined along a wheelstop on the opposite side of the lot where a party had congregated earlier.

I planted the side of my fist into the glass, fighting through a tremulous inhale. Behind me, Haz lay spread-eagle across the entire mattress as if he was rooming alone. I thanked Allah I wasn’t on my own tonight, amazed by how agonizing my nightmares were becoming. Yet the mere sight of him was enough to sedate me, shutting off the disturbing corridors in my mind.

He was sprawled out on his back, facing me, but sound asleep. I climbed back into bed, lifting his eyelids one at a time. He woke up but didn’t have the energy to open his eyes. He let out a wounded little whimper and turned his face to the other side of the room, forgetting me.

“Babe…” I muttered, kneeling over him in the center of the bed; desperate for a dose of his nonsense to ease my conflagrant nerves. I could smell the smoke in his hair. The perspiration in the sheets. It was a lonely hour, and the room seemed to be getting smaller by the second. “Haz…?” I pressed my lips to his cheek until he smiled an unconscious smile. “Wake up, baby. I had a nightmare. I need youh…”

“Hm?” he answered, stretching awake, but never opening his eyes. My mouth was dry. We bought all that booze and plenty of dirty toys, but no water whatsoever. No food either. I was beginning to feel a bit dehydrated, and could hear our stomachs growling in the total absence of sound.

“Wanna see the Eiffel Tower with me, babe?” I knew it was crazy-risky, but the cover of night was on our side, and it was realistically the only time we would ever have the opportunity to do so.

“Fuck the Eiffel Tow—” his mutterings trailed off as he dozed again, head lolling like a tranquilized grizzly.

“Deep down, youh know youh love it.” I said, forfeiting and laying half atop him on my stomach. “You’re gonna be mad youh didn’t goh. Just wait.”

Later he popped wide awake and pressed his lips to my ear, mumbling that he was sorry and that he’d been dreaming of me. Hearing his drawl pass directly into my ear was my absolute trigger, and I was blessed no one was around to hear the sexy, dizzy things he conveyed to me. Lips absently brushing my flesh, flicking my lobe. The heat of his breath radiating through my core, making my bones judder like an electric chair.

“Never stop talkin’” I sighed, shifting onto my back and letting him fall down over me. “Cover me…hide me…” His weight rocked me, knocking the wind from my chest, but I loved the idea of being smothered. I felt safer this way. Surrounded at all ends. Shrouded from head to foot in the secrecy of his embrace.

Before I knew it, we were up and showering and mapping out a nearby Velib station to rent bikes for the journey. The moon vanished behind cloud-cover as we walked the unpeopled streets, hair damp; clothes rank with the fumes of our sleazy lodgings. When a drizzle began to fall, I tugged my hood up and watched Haz walk ahead into the shadows, unfazed.

The rainfall intensified and overtook my senses. I thought about turning back. It was difficult to make out anything in our path. I imagined we were treading some post-apocalyptic hellscape in the remotest corner of the world, in search of other survivors. Places fraught with pits that gaped ten feet across. The earth looking to swallow us up; like those demonic car-eating sinkholes that broke open in the middle of cities.

“You good?” he turned back and asked, dragging a hand down his face to free it of water.

“M’alright.”

“Wanna turn back?”

“Youh?”

“No chance…” he grinned, sticking his tongue out to taste the rain.

“What if it’s radioactive?!”

“Then I’d reckon we’re already fucked, mate.” We laughed. “We’re soaked as it is!” He held my hand for a bit, playing with my fingers; then tried his tongue at a few French phrases he’d picked up since he got here. His accent was god-awful.

“Y’know, I’m no expert, babe, but I think your accent’s a bit terrible.”

“Hey, it could use some work,” he let my hand slip away, glancing back with a grin as he moved ahead.

When we made it to the nearest Velib station on an abandoned corner a few blocks away, the rain let up a bit. I entered my info and freed a couple of bikes. Next, we were coasting down a steep decline on a road so narrow I thought I could spread my arms and graze the buildings on either side. After bending a few corners, we were officially lost, and the GPS was struggling to keep a signal in the dreadful weather. Haz snatched my phone away and pretended to throw it.

Yoooo!” I cried. “Chill!”

“Mate, that’d be wild, wouldn’t it?!” he laughed. “What if I actually did it?! Remember last time?? You were soooo pissed, you literally tackled me! Remember that?”

“All too well…” I grabbed the phone back and rerouted us, and we took off, eating up the pavement side-by-side like two wide-eyed adolescents. Teenagers all over again. I remembered exactly how we were with a mouthwatering clarity. Out for blood. Dumb and dangerous in our lust for any sort of stimulation we could find. Hormone junkies. Addicted to everything. Fucking each other when we ran out of girls. Fighting when the machine of the band took its toll on our mental and we had no clue how to get away from one another.

On the next decline, Haz clenched his tongue between his teeth and spread his arms, trying to keep the bike balanced hands-free.

“Broh, you’re askin’ for trouble, yeah?” I panicked. “What if the fookin’ wheel flies off?! What then? Youh’d land face-first, Haz. Youh know that right?”

Shuddupppppp, already! I almost had it!” He sped away from me and tried it again, this time on level ground so I didn’t feel as worried. 

When the distance between us grew intolerable, he felt it without looking back, and stopped to wait for me. The pull between us was baffling. A wonderment of unearthly spectacle. I had no idea what was keeping us together, but I was deathly afraid of its power over me.

“M’tired…” I groaned as we linked up and took off again. 

“I’ll show you what tired is when we get back to the room…”

“Haven’t rode a bike in like forever.”

By the time we reached the tower, the threat of dawn was real. The sky was becoming lighter by the moment. Simple variations with the passing of time, the minutes trickling by unaccounted for. The world was discolored with the backdrop of poor weather, but still dark enough to obscure who we were; even from each other. There were times he got away from me and I didn’t know who I was following, yet I wouldn’t dream of slowing down.

We landed in sight of the tower by way of a narrow, unoccupied street flanked by historic buildings. The sort of buildings I imagined you’d find in the background of Les Misérables. The streets were in an awful condition here, deep cracks shooting down the length of the road out of sight. When I gazed ahead, my breath hitched. We were as close as we could get without riding out into the open in the middle of downtown. There were a few lost souls milling about here and there, so I decided not to risk it.

I’d visited the tower many times before and had already gone through the first-time formalities, like when you met distant relatives and were expected to show respect. When I was younger, I was rightfully overawed by its scale and its ghostly aura. All the old-world craftsmanship and the prestige it emitted at a glance. The stories it must’ve held, having kept vigil over such a remarkable city for so long. I had even gone inside for the full experience once, so there was really no need to tempt fate in doing so again.

“We’re here…” he marveled, slowing to a halt beside me. “Fucking finally.” His voice was clumsy, trapped between the unmoving stone of the neighborhood. It had the feel of a graveyard just now. I nearly told him to keep quiet.

The tower stared back at us from a distance, no less overwhelming or poignant than when I stood up close. Bats zoomed around between the buildings, veering too near for comfort. The windows watched unblinkingly, like empty eye sockets. The structure itself, blackened as we had arrived long after the final light show, loomed in the night like an eerie spacecraft ascended from another dimension. A frightening omen.

I set my bike down and approached the end of the street on foot. Haz’s handlebars clanked against the pavement before his lumbering footsteps followed. He hugged me from behind and I absently turned my face to rest against his cheek, unable to shake the pit in my stomach or take my eyes from what stood before us.

When he sighed, his body vibrated around me, animating my blood. “It’s so…beautiful,” he whispered. “Even like this…lights out…”

“I wish we’d gotten here earlier, soh youh could’ve seen the lights.”

“I prefer it this way…”

“Yeah…” I leaned back into him. “It’s quite like us…innit?” He turned me around and planted his lips to mine, kissing me slowly and meditatively, clutching my jaw with one hand and the small of my back with the other.

On the way back to the motel the rain vanished and we took our time dodging puddles in the pavement. Before long we spotted a river and headed towards the old-timey bridge to catch our breath and chill. The muscles in my legs were screaming. I had only grown hungrier. He started crooning Mancini’s “Moon River” as we approached, getting louder as we set our bike’s down and gazed over the railing at the moonlit water.

“What if life were a musical? And we just broke out into song at a moment’s notice?”

“I’d probably kill myself,” I groaned. He took a coin out of his pocket and dropped it into the water with a snicker.

“Why’d youh do dat for?”

“I dunno…just felt like the right thing to do.”

“Youh make a wish?”

“I’m not five, mate—”

“Could’ve fooled me—” that earned me a shot to the nuts. I doubled over with a laugh.

As I recovered, I jumped onto his back, following which he pretended to toss me over the bridge before planting me on the parapet like a frustrated parent.

“Stay!”

“Fine by me,” I muttered, pulling out my smokes and lighting one.

“If you do that, you’re gonna be wheezing twice as hard on the ride back…”

“Soh be it. That’s a chance m’willin’ to take, yeah?” He leaned idly over the railing again and I ruffled his hair. “Talk to me or sumthin, fam. You’re too quiet.”

“That’s rich comin’ from youh broh,” he mimicked my accent.

“Youh know what I mean, dickhead,” I laughed. “I wanna hear your voice.” Sometimes that was all I needed. Sometimes I made him talk until I fell asleep. His pillowtalk was on another level, especially when he was a bit buzzed, but still lucid.

“M’nervous…”

“Oh yeah? What for?” I exhaled and the smoke cloaked us.

Everything…the movie…the album…you and I…”

“I’m gud if you’re gud. I could do this shit forever, Haz. No need to worry about us this time.”

“Yeah,” he looked over at me with a hopeful furrow in his brow. “Then it’s all the other stuff that’s weighing me down. I can hardly catch my breath sometimes.”

“Thought it was my job to take your breath away?” He only smiled.

“I mean m’just fooking nervous, is all. It all seems to be happening at once, y’know? I can’t stop obsessing over everything. Playing everything out in my head again and again and again like I’m daft. The tracklist, the announcements, the fan reactions, the interviews…what I’ll say when the time comes…the critics, the reviews, the charts…too fucking much. But the movie, thought…it’s good. I know it is, and that’s no thanks to me—”

“Bullshit—”

“Sure, mate, I did my part, but to be honest, uh, this one’s all Nolan, I think. He’ll come out as the star of this one for sure. Trust me. His genius is gonna shine through everything. He had his hands in like every element of this. It was fascinating to watch…and I’m glad, because, uh, this sort of takes some of the pressure off me for now.”

“Sure…” 

“The storyline is captivating, and, uh, the execution is scarily real. No one will find anything bad to say about it, I think. And, uh, Jeff said it should stand me in good stead. Get a few people talking about me in Hollywood. Get my name on a few short lists for future roles. It’s all the other shit I’m terrified of. The music is all me, so there’s really no hiding anymore.”

“And that’s why it’ll be unbelievable,” I said. “Because you’re unbelievable, babe.” He craned and planted a kiss to my cheek before retreating to his spot, still overlooking the current.

“That genuinely means more to me than you’ll ever know…”

“I’ve been where youh are before…not too long agoh, actually.”

“I can’t imagine how you did it. And all on your own too, with none of our old contacts?? To be honest, you’re the one who’s un-fucking-believable, mate.”

“Tell me about it,” I snickered, watching the tip of my cigarette before taking another drag. “I’ve been thinkin’…why are youh soh afraid of failure, anyweh?” I asked. “Why do youh give it that kind of power over youh? You’ve always been obsessed with gettin’ every little thing right. I remember that shit, broh. Youh used to drive yourself mad. A few times youh even made yourself sick.” He shrugged and couldn’t look me in the eye. I studied the light outlining his profile.

“Music is supposed to be enjoyable, Haz, from top to bottom, right? From makin’ it to deliverin’ it, to listenin’ to it. This is your dream job, babe, but youh manage to turn it into such a joyless headfuck for yourself.”

“I don’t mean to.” He looked about half his age. I figured I didn’t need to be too hard on him in such a fragile state.

“I know you don’t mean to, babe, but youh have to chill. You’re goin’ to do amazin’, I promise. It’s inevitable. You’re Harry Fucking Styles…and beyond that, you’ve put in the work to guarantee success. Hard work will always pay off. It’s, like…a law of nature.”

“Fucks sake, mate. I feel better already…”

“Y’know, there’s not a lot I’m sure of in this world, but I do know one thing…” he looked over at me, vacillation in his eyes. “Youh were chosen to be great. Like…born for it. It’s your destiny, Haz. Just sit back and accept it. M’serious, maan, youh have noh limitations, other than the roadblocks youh setup for yourself inside your mind. I saw it in youh when we first met, and I’ve only become more sure as the years tick by.”

“Z, what the fuck? Where did all that even come from?! You’re one hell of a motivational speaker!” He kissed me so hard I could taste the gratitude; it was present in his urgency.

It was the least I could do to return all the encouragement he had given me without fail anytime I wanted to quit or give in. He had been my rock for as long as I could remember, always checking on me and making sure I ate. Always pushing me to be the best version of myself. So much so that even when we weren’t together, I still relied on that solid foundation he had invested in me, and during the start of my solo career would often stop to wonder what he would think about certain things I was working on or scheming up for my first album.

He knew me both as a dumb wannabe kid and a superstar. He knew me before our success was certain; way back before we ever took over the world. He was there when I finished puberty and there in the earliest stages of my musical education. He knew me as Zain, before all the other adjectives and labels had been added as I grew up in the public eye.

I had known his funny little cherub face, and he had seen the infantile stages of my fashion. All the hideous faux pas. Those the days when I was still figuring out how to style my hair well enough for a boyband. He had heard my voice crack. Had counted my acne. Had seen my terrible early attempts at writing and was the only person who knew I’d written a humiliating screenplay when I was 12.

God, the cringe he must’ve withheld to spare my feelings, I dread to think of it. But that was Harry. He loved me with a deep, almost parental sensitivity and a Christ-like absolution. Fully and forever. Without judgement, devoid of condition. With the patience of a saint and the blind steadfastness of a puppy. He was sweet to me even when I was mean. He ate everything I cooked even if he didn’t particularly have a taste for it at the minute, and always stayed on the phone with me when I called him at 2, 3, and 4AM—

Now he stood away from the railing and stretched, the leaves at his hipbones peaking from beneath his shirt.

“Hey…” he smiled.

“Hey.”

“Whatcha thinking about?”

“Nothing, really…” He tried to read my thoughts. His stare intensified; those eyes the only thing aglow in the darkness. Weirdly luminescent, like seafire scudding along the coast.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he began, scratching the back of his head and breaking eye contact. “So, uh, what was with all the whips and chains and stuff…?”

Hardly!” I laughed.

“Oh well excuse the fuck out of me. I only meant the fooking handcuffs and blindfold and bag full of toys!” I exhaled the last of the smoke into the sky, thumping the butt onto the ground, which he later stepped on.

“I dunno, maan. Just wanted to try sumthin different I guess?”

“Oh, you guess?” he scoffed.

“How was it?”

“Pretty fooking wild, not gonna lie. I wasn’t expectin’ it.”

“M’sorry—”

“Just because I wasn’t expecting it doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it, mate. Those are two totally separate things.”

“For real?”

Mm-hm,” he finally grinned, unable to control a laugh when rehashing the memories. “I’m definitely glad you did it. Surprises are good…and at the end of the day I trust you to look after me.

“Always…”

“It’s been what, six years now since we started fooling around? Seven since we’ve known each other. You’re keeping things fresh, Z, you always do. I get it, and I can appreciate that.”

“Yeah…” I chuckled, unable to hide how insecure I felt. Now he stepped before me, titling my face and bearing down into my eyes like it was the first time he had ever seen me.

“Sometimes it’s nice to feel like I don’t know you,” he murmured, staring at my lips.

“Really?”

“Seriously…” he kissed me breathlessly, brushing our lips together with feathery strokes. “…it makes…everything…more intense. More mind numbing…more reckless. Like I don’t know what’ll happen next.”

“Youh like me being unpredictable?” I breathed, brow knitted, starring at his kiss-swollen mouth.

“All the fucking time…” We made out again, following which he watched me curiously. “Now it’s time for me to repay the favor…” My stomach knotted, forcing me to avert my gaze.

“W-when?” He kissed me deeply. Our lips parted with a smack and I stared up into his torrential green eyes.

“I don’t wanna to lose youh….” I whispered woozily. “Not now…not ever. I think that’s why I did it. Youh make me insane.” I felt his thumbs stroking my cheeks, and his gaze was becoming more languid, more alluring. “…sort of like finding ways to keep youh to myself. Finding ways to use youh up soh no one else can have youh…in some fucked up way.” He leaned closer, just short of kissing me again. The hypnosis of his gaze arrested every muscle in my body. I sat nearly paralyzed before him. “I’m soh scared to confront the things youh unlock in my mind.”

“It’s ok…” he whispered, pressing our lips together. Later he assured me, “I’ve been there too. Thrown myself into that darkness…”

“Really?” He nodded, releasing my face. He leaned back against the railing and gazed up at the sky.

“Early on…when I was so, uh, intimidated by the Stephanies and Rebeccas and Perrieswhoever. I just wanted to use you as much as possible whenever we were together, hoping you’d have zero energy left for someone else.”

“I guess we’d be surprised how similarly we think about most things if we just fuckin’ talked about ’em.”

“That’s all you, Mr. ‘talkin’ ‘bout it’s not my style.’

“Yeah…” I watched the ground in a daydream. “M’changin though. I feel like I’m more willin’ to talk through shit as I get older. It really does help, Haz.” He wrapped his arms around my neck, leaning his weight down onto me. I liked to bear his weight because it let me know he was real. We were real. I wrapped my arms around his waist and slips my hands up the back of his shirt, making home in the warmth of his bare flesh. He sighed in response, and the sound was gratifyingly familiar. I felt possessive of it. How could one even be possessive of a sound? Like his moans or his laughter or his whispers…all mine.

**********

When I got home to New York, I laid around for a few days, hardly eating or speaking. G thought I was pissed at her and didn’t come by for a while. I smoked ‘til I felt ill, not answering the phone for anyone, not even Haz himself. The withdrawals were getting worse, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to see him again for a while. Why bother chatting to him in the meantime and making myself more miserable? 

We had made it back to the motel after visiting the tower and gathered our things before heading our separate ways like the last time. All I had to look forward to now was when he came to New York in a month or so for work, and had promised to carve out a few days for me on that occasion.

I sent him the link for Kailash Kher’s Teri Deewani after he called for the fourth time that day to no avail. That was all he would get for now. I was drained and needed to preserve all the energy I had left for work and making things right with G.

T had booked a photoshoot for the afternoon, so I sifted through my jewelry in the bedroom to find a few pieces that would be complementary to the looks. In doing so I stumbled across a silver rose ring I’d worn for a shoot last year, and which I had only chosen to wear at the time because it had reminded me of him. I twisted it around between my fingers before running downstairs to the office in nothing but my t-shirt and briefs to find a pen and paper.

This made me think of you. I want you to wear it so whenever you feel overwhelmed you’ll remember our talk on the bridge. Think of it as a good luck charm or something. Keep it cared for, babe, and I want to see you with it on when you come to NY.

I signed it with a large Z and folded the paper in fours. I then found the packaging supplies T kept around the house and did my best impersonation of a Fed-Ex employee, before dumping the package in the outgoing mail pile.

Before moving away, I noticed there was a large yellow envelop in the incoming mail pile, which typically indicated something important. I looked it over, finding no return address, but my name alone stamped on a label in the center of the envelop. Ripping it open, I found a stack of large photos inside, timestamped from a few days ago. My blood seemed to slow. My breath became labored. I flipped the first photo over and my knees gave almost instantly. I collapsed onto the floor, dropping the envelop and sending the pile fluttering around me.

All I had ever feared since I was 18; all I had ever worked and calculated to evade my entire adult life was suddenly rushing at me like a groundswell. My lungs seemed to shut down; gasping to intake the slightest whiff of air. I didn’t even have wind enough to cry, but that didn’t stop my body from sobbing uncontrollably. 

(Thanks for reading! Next chapters: 2013!❤️)

Harry Styles Wears Peace Ring For DTD’s Anniversary


I’m intrigued, to say the least. You’ll remember on Tuesday September 7th that Harry’s peace ring that he’s been wearing since 2013 (and which inexplicably disappeared some time late last year or early this year) made a big return during his Denver, Colorado show. Read about that here:

Read about Harry’s very first Love On Tour show in Las Vegas here:

Well, as of his latest Love On Tour show in San Antonio, Texas on September 9th, the ring seems to have disappeared again. Which perhaps leads us to one conclusion: Harry only intended to wear the ring for that specific day? And therefore was making some sort of statement? Idek anymore. My head hurts from all this Zarry whiplash.

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Harry Performing In Denver, Colorado On 9/7/2021 with the peace ring.
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Harry Performing In San Antonio, Texas On 9/9/2021 sans the peace ring.

As always, fans wasted no time in constructing theories that deliberated why Harry would’ve returned the iconic and dearly missed ring for only one show. (And why the flip hasn’t he done the same with the rose ring because it’s been 84 years!!! I hate you Harry sm 😭😭😭😭😭😭 pleathe bring her back pleathe!!!)

I would love to know your thoughts and theories as well, but my favorite so far is that he wore the peace ring for the anniversary of Zayn’s Dusk Till Dawn on September 7th, which we all know was a deeply passionate song written about their relationship in 2017.

Wow we’ve have come such a long way from 2017, even though I didn’t know any of you then haha! Still, the impact of this song continues to resonate today. It is Zayn’s magnum opus in my opinion, and was made so by the impeccably delivered vocals, the heart-wrenching and carefully crafted lyrics, the allegorical storyline, and the fact that it was an almost a line-for-line response to Harry’s From The Dining Table released earlier that year.

Read my take on both songs here:


Many people even speculate that Zayn might’ve been in attendance at the Denver show (like he was at the June 2018 MSG show) based on the sudden return of the ring as well as some of Harry’s onstage behavior.

At the end of the day, we still have no solid clue as to what the peace ring means to Harry or where it even came from to begin with in 2013, but we would certainly love to find out!

Ugh, I’m sad.


What’s that? Did somebody say merch? Hah! I’m glad you asked! New merch is live now! Visit: https://www.wyldfleur.store/

Harry Styles Love On Tour | Denver


Look, I get it. You’re sick of hearing me say it, but I have to!

New Merch in just a few days!! 😨😰😱 Exclusive Zarry and Non-Zarry merch for every mood of the week! I’ve been working soooooo hard on these designs and I pray that you like them! Be sure to FOLLOW and LIKE @admerchdesigns on Facebook for updates. I’m also at @admerchdesigns on Instagram and Twitter too! But I’ll mainly post the designs on Facebook! Thank you, thank you!!


Read about Harry’s first show for Love On Tour in Las Vegas here:

PAGE ONE: Photos & Updates

PAGE TWO: Videos & Performances

Well, well, well….what do we have here? Looks like Harold seems to be slowly returning to himself after all! Fine Line suspenders and all!

Booooo! He wore a shirt yesterday. 😡

On his second highly anticipated show for Love On Tour at the Ball Arena in Denver, Colorado, he was reportedly more at ease and at home on stage while bantering with the crowd. We love to see it.

Yet the best part is that a major OG from the 1D days returned to his side for this performance. An item that has been with Harry for so long and so consistently that he looks downright naked without it. (I was gonna say something perverted about naked Harry but realized I objectify him way too often, so I decided against it. But just think of the nastiest thing you can, and then pretend I said it here. Kay, thanks.)

The peace ring is back baby!!! (Thanks to all who posted about the concert on the Discussion Post. You rock!!)

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Also, wtf Harry! Now bring back the rose ring!!

Pleatheeee


The Setlist:

The setlist did not change from the lineup of previous show, despite rumors that it might.

The Crowd:

The Band:

The Costume:

The Man:

The Husband:

Oh my gosh I can’t believe he actually showed up!!

Ok, I’m joking. He wasn’t there…..

He was at my house.


Photos:

What a cute ass.

PAGE TWO: Videos & Performances

Harry Styles Love On Tour | Las Vegas


New merch coming September 12th! Follow @admerchdesigns on Twitter, Instagram, & Facebook for updates! UPDATE: the new merch is available now at: https://www.wyldfleur.store/



Last night Harry performed his first show for Love On Tour at an electric MGM Grand Garden Arena in Las Vegas, Nevada, and he reportedly did not disappoint. Performer!Harry is back with a vengeance to make us all pass out, and he seems to be incorporating his lovely ink bedecked torso into his stage-wear from now on, and we certainly aren’t complaining. Please Harry, by all means…feel free to lose the pants too!

Please drop all your thoughts and links here and I appreciate all the info being brought to the Discussion Post as well!


The Setlist:

The Crowd:

The Costume:

The Man Of The Hour:

I hate that I find him cute.

The Performances:


Omg what is wrong with him? 🤣


Ugh, his heart tattoo!
So shiny!
She’s back!
Sigh, the little rainbow boy.

Harry also has new merch, the colors for which he apparently teased with his Grammys outfits.


We also have this update from Jasmine who we appreciate: “Yo guys Adam and emi unfollwed harry and Jeff, harry and Jeff unfollwed Adam and emi, emi unfollwed kid harpoon, kid harpoon unfollowed emi , Adam blocked and unfollowed Anne and Anne unfollwed adam”

Oh my gosh what’s happening. Harry has known Adam since he first moved to London in like 2011, according to the Howard Stern interview! The rumors about Adam leaving with Charlotte were apparently true! *gasps*


I was smiling while making this post, not realizing how much I missed him, then I would suddenly remember Olivia was in the audience and my eye would twitch.

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