A/N: I’m sorry if you’re a Larry shipper, because I kinda talked about Larry in this imagine. I personally don’t like Larry, but I’m not going to argue with those who do.
You have just come back from a busy day at work, and are exhausted. Thinking that you’ll rest for a while before making dinner, you immediately head into the bedroom that you and your boyfriend Harry share. You have lived with him for quite a while now, and loved him very much.
Just as you were about to sit down on the bed, you noticed that there was another person lying under the sheets. A mop of curly brown hair lies on the pillow, but besides that, Harry is hidden by blankets. You lift them off his face, and he groans.
"Hey, Elin," he says sleepily. "Ugh, I’m so tired. How was your day?"
"My day was good," you say, frowning. "Are you okay, Hazza?"
Harry sighs and sits up. You scooch over next to him. “I’m fine, just a little tired,” he answers. You look into his eyes, and know that there is something bothering him.
"Seriously. Tell me what’s wrong," you demand, hugging your boyfriend. "I promise I won’t be mad or anything."
Harry shakes his head. “It’s nothing really. Just that…” he trails off for a minute. “It’s just that there’s so much pressure on me. I’m constantly worried that I’m going to be mobbed while just walking to the grocery store or something. I don’t mind the fans that much, it’s more the paps.”
Your frown deepens. You know how much Harry dislikes the pushy, rude paparazzi that always seems to be following him. “Don’t you have bodyguards with you?”
"No. I’m tired of them too. I just want to be able to do something by myself sometimes, without someone pressuring me. I can’t meet any fans without there being someone with a camera in my face, and asking me all of these questions… I can’t even talk to Louis that much in public because of ‘Larry’. Some interviewers have no respect toward Eleanor or you… it isn’t fair. Why can’t people just love me for who I am? Some people don’t see that I’m actually a human who has feelings."
Seeing Harry like this hurt you a lot. You take his hand in yours and squeeze it. “I love you for who you are, Harry. Please, don’t let those nasty comments destroy you. Whenever something like that happens, I want you to come straight to me. And if you can’t reach me at the time, I want you to remember the boys, your fans, and myself. We all love you for who you are. Don’t change yourself, they aren’t worth it.”
Harry wraps his arms around you. He had begun to cry in the middle of his little speech, and you tried to wipe them away. He lay back down, and you did too, on your side, looking at him. “I’d sing you a song to comfort you,” you say jokingly, “but that would probably make you feel worse.”
Harry lets out a small laugh. “No, angel, nothing you do could make me feel bad.”
Encouraged by his laughter, you begin to tell him some funny stories about what happened at work today. After an hour, you know that Harry is back to being his usual cheerful self.
"Now," you say, "we are going to do something special. Whatever you like. We can go shopping, out to dinner, anything. And it’ll all be on me."
Harry shakes his head. “No, I don’t want to out tonight.” He pauses for a second, thinking. “But we can still do something special.” He grins, a mischievous look in his green eyes. You were about to ask just exactly what he had in mind, but before you could open your mouth, he kissed you.