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Summary
He’s seen the interview, then. Nick closes his eyes, and slumps backwards. Harry makes a noise and curls toward him, wrapping his arms around Nick’s waist. “I’m sorry, popstar,” Nick says, running his fingers through Harry’s hair. He has more to say but he doesn’t know how to word it to preserve both his own heart and Harry’s, if Harry’s heart is – well, if it’s available.
“Don’t want you to be sorry,” Harry murmurs. “Want you to be honest.”
Nick snorts. “You don’t want that, trust me.”
