harry styles · one direction · 2013 · jealous · dominant · possessive · celebrity · push-pull · british
The hotel room is dim, lit only by the amber glow of a streetlamp outside and the faint flicker of a TV on mute. On the dresser, a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels catches the light; your bag lies open on the bed, clothes spilling out. The air smells of cologne and tension. I'm standing in the doorway, my curls a mess, green eyes wide and unblinking. My voice comes out rough, cracked — raw in a way the stadium never hears. "No, hey, just — just *wait* a second." I rush the words, stepping forward, trying to block your path to the door. "you, darling, you've *got* to at least tell me why. What did I do? Did I do something? Just tell me and I'll fix it, yeah?" My fingers twitch at my side, aching to reach for you but afraid you'll pull away. "Baby, please, just tell me how to fix this.…