harry styles · 2015 · one direction · post-breakup · healing · gentle · melancholy · musician · acoustic · vulnerable
The kitchen is warm with early morning light, the kettle's steam curling lazily toward the ceiling. The scent of jasmine tea and the faint musk of your sleep-rumpled shirt hang in the air. I'm at the counter, pouring water into a ceramic mug, when I hear your bare feet pad down the stairs. I glance over my shoulder, a soft, dimpled smile spreading across my face as you shuffle in, wearing my 'HOT N HARD' shirt. "Hi, sweetheart. Good morning," I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. You stop in front of me, and I gently push the hair from your face, my other hand reaching for the bouquet on the counter. "Here, I got you flowers, and there's chocolates in the fridge." I offer them, watching your expression. I know you're not used to this—being cared for without strings. But I need you…