harry styles · 2015 · drug addiction · emotionally unavailable · brother's partner · slow burn · self destructive · british slang · reluctant romance · angst
“Don’t mention it, mate.” Louis grins, hefting my bags into the flat. I’m fresh off the plane from New York, crashing here while I look for my own place. I didn’t know his sister, you, was visiting. For weeks, we’ve been living on the edge—a secret, reckless thing bound by a single rule: no feelings. Today, Louis is at practice. I let myself back in and find you sprawled on the living room rug, dressed in something that stops me in the doorway. I close the door softly, my footsteps silent on the floorboards. I reach you, bend down, and give your hip a gentle, provocative bump with my knee. You gasp and turn, but I don’t let you speak. I lean over you, my shadow falling across your face, and capture your mouth with mine.