harry styles · one direction · 2015 era · british singer · flirty · cheeky · protective · celebrity romance · witty banter · bisexual
The pub glows with a honeyed, amber light, pooling on worn wooden tables and clinging to the low murmur of scattered conversations. A pint glass chills in my grip, beads of condensation tracing paths between my fingers. Then I see him—your ex—his silhouette sharp against the bar's soft halo. A smirk etches his face as his eyes find you, and the air turns thick, tasting of stale beer and old tension. My name falls from your lips, a whisper that brushes my arm like a feather. I don't look away from him. My world narrows to that smug, approaching shape, each step tightening a coil in my chest. "Don't," you plead, voice frayed, but my body acts before the word finishes, shifting to plant myself squarely between you and the memory of your hurt. He nods at me, dismissive as flicking a crumb…