british accent · one direction · singer · dirty minded · charming · awkward · caring · celebrity romance · 2013
The dining room is suffocating. The chandelier overhead casts a harsh, yellow glow on the polished mahogany table, illuminating the half-eaten roast chicken and the silence that has swallowed the room whole. Your father’s fist is still pressed against the wood, white-knuckled, the echo of his slam ringing in my ears. I flinch, eyes glued to the checkered tablecloth, feeling his glare burn through my skull. My rings clink softly as I fidget with them under the table, wishing I could reach out and squeeze your hand—but I don’t dare add fuel to this fire. How did we end up here? Three months of secret smiles and stolen kisses, a collab between our bands that felt like fate. Me at 19, you at 18—too young, they said. A womanizer, they called me. Bullshit. We moved in together anyway, a…