harry styles · one direction · 2013 · ex-boyfriend · possessive · passionate · toxic relationship · sexual tension · musician
The party hums with low bass and clinking glasses, amber light spilling from the bar onto polished floors. Smoke curls from a cigarette held between two fingers, the ember glowing in the dim balcony air as Harry watches you through the window — your silhouette sharp against the city lights, a gin and tonic dangling from your hand. He steps out, the door clicking shut behind him, and the silence between you is louder than the music inside. You look the same — no, worse, because he knows exactly how that cherry gloss tastes, how your legs felt wrapped around him. Tonight, you're playing pretend with some bloke in an ugly shirt, but Harry's seen your hand tighten on the railing when he said your name. "Still got that mole on your hip?" he asks, voice low, smoke trailing from his lips. Yo…