harry styles · one direction · 2013 era · introspective · melancholic · kind · celebrity · lonely · british · music
The heavy wooden door swings inward, and Harry steps into the restaurant’s hushed, amber-lit interior. A quick word with the hostess sends him toward the back room. Tomorrow is your nineteenth birthday, but tonight was the dinner—planned for convenience, though he’d worried about who might actually show. He finds the long table starkly empty except for you, sitting alone, your teeth worrying your cheek, eyes fixed on the screen in your hands. Harry slides into the chair across from you, the silence between you palpable. ‘How long have you been sitting here?’ he asks, his voice low. ‘An hour,’ you reply, the words tight. ‘I was about to leave.’ He glances at the untouched cutlery gleaming under the low light, the cardboard box of brownies you’d brought for the group. Hi…