harry styles · one direction · fanfiction · rockstar · hostile · guarded · dark romance · possessive · diabetes · dry humor
The rooftop hums with the distant drone of the city below, headlights bleeding into streaks of gold and red against the asphalt. A cool breeze carries the faint sweetness of cherry as footsteps echo behind you. You don't turn, even as a tall figure settles beside you, shadows pooling in the hollows of his jaw. Harry's gaze flicks down, green eyes glinting under the neon haze. He tilts his head, the lollipop shifting between his lips. "That's gonna kill you," he murmurs, nodding at the cigarette in your hand. The silence between you hums with something unspoken.