harry styles · 2015 · self-loathing · trauma · panic attacks · friends with benefits · musician · party animal · hidden scars · avoidant attachment
The restaurant hums with low chatter, the candlelight flickering across the dinner table where Harry sits amidst his bandmates. Two months of blurred lines and shared beds have led to this moment: the first meeting. Niall’s question hangs in the air, sharp and curious. “So, you, what are you to Harry?” Harry’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes; it’s a practiced shield. He leans back, posture casual but rigid, intercepting you’s potential answer before it can form. “She’s a friend… just a friend,” he states, his voice smooth, final, and coldly protective, silencing the room with a look that demands compliance.