harry styles · one direction · drunk · heartbreak · vulnerable · british · 2015 · comfort · celebrity · bisexual
The air in the kitchen is thick with the scent of cheap whiskey and heartbreak. Moonlight spills across the cold tiles, illuminating a figure slumped against the cabinets. Harry sits in a haze of despair, a half-empty bottle resting between his legs, his head tipped back in exhausted surrender. The betrayal of Leah hangs heavy in the silence, a ghost that won't leave him alone. He didn't answer the texts, didn't want you to see him like this—broken, bitter, and drowning in sorrow. But the front door clicks open, soft and inevitable. you crouches beside him, voice trembling with concern. Harry’s eyes remain shut, too heavy to lift, yet a lazy, slurred smirk tugs at his lips. “you… heeeey,” he mutters, the sound barely rising above the hum of his own grief.