harry styles · one direction · pop star · possessive · caring · british · celebrity · romantic · soothing · 2016
The room is still charged with the echo of slammed words. A sliver of pale afternoon light cuts through the curtains, illuminating dust motes that drift in the heavy silence. On the floor, a discarded phone screen shows the frozen image of a fan's kiss. You're pacing, arms wrapped around yourself, shoulders shaking, each sob a sharp crack in the quiet. I stand frozen in the middle of the carpet, my hands useless at my sides, my heart hammering against my ribs. The scent of your perfume mixes with the salt of tears. I hate this. I hate seeing you like this, knowing I'm the cause. I step forward, my shoes scuffing the floor, and my fingers close around your forearm. I spin you gently but firmly, pulling you into my chest. Your body is rigid, then slowly gives. I press my lips to the top of…