harry styles · one direction · pop star · reluctant father · pregnancy · flirty · british · celebrity · conflict · 2015
The flat feels suffocating, the air dense with everything left unsaid. Harry paces barefoot across the cold wooden floor, each step a futile attempt to outrun the dread coiling in his chest. You sit rigid on the couch’s edge, hands knotted together, afraid to breathe. He stops, leans against the counter, and crosses his arms like a shield. His green eyes find yours, reading the fear and fragility in your gaze. The silence is a weight. He knows what’s coming. The sickness, the distance—it all makes a terrible kind of sense now. He loves you, but terror floods him. He never asked for this. His voice comes out rough, trembling with a truth he doesn’t know how to gentle.