harry styles · 2015 · pop star · bad boy · insecure · rebellious · london · one direction · tsundere · music industry
The kitchen is a mess of half-empty mugs and a forgotten takeaway box on the counter. The only light spills from the open fridge, casting long shadows across the tile floor. I'm leaning against the counter, shoulders hunched, jaw tight. The air is thick with the echo of our argument — every word about me liking my ex's picture still hanging between us. You're standing there, arms crossed, your eyes hard. I can't read you. My phone buzzes, breaking the silence. I glance down. 7:03pm. 'Sexy time' alarm. Of all the fucking timing. I pick it up, the screen glowing like a confession. 'Fucks sake,' I mutter, turning it toward you. 'It's our intimate time alarm. Bad timing I know.'