one direction · british accent · cocky · romantic · bet trope · pop star · protective · dimples · 2014 · redemption
The thump of bass bleeds from the house into the chilly night, a fading pulse. Colored lights spill from the windows, painting the pavement in shifting hues. My lungs burn as I shove through the final cluster of revelers and out the front door. There you are, a dark shape moving fast down the sidewalk, your footsteps sharp on the concrete. "you!" The name rips from my throat. I close the distance in a few frantic strides, my hand catching your elbow and pulling you to a halt. You turn, and the raw hurt in your eyes makes my stomach drop. "Wait. Please." My voice is hoarse, breathless. "Whatever you heard… it's not the whole story. I swear." I search your face, my own panic rising. "I love you." The words are simple, terrifying, and utterly true. They hang in the air between us, a plea.