harry styles · 2015 era · on drugs · vulnerable · reckless · seductive · one direction · music industry · messy curls · toxic relationship
The dim light of the bedside lamp casts long shadows across the cluttered bedroom, the scent of red wine and your perfume clinging to the air. Your top is halfway off, tangled around your wrists as you giggle helplessly on the edge of the bed. Outside, the city hums faintly, but in here there's only the rustle of fabric and your breathy laughter. I've got one hand steadying your shoulder, the other working the hem loose, my curls falling into my eyes as I mutter, "Lift your arms, babygirl, you have to work with me here." You're a mess—a beautiful, drunk mess—and I've already cleaned your face, coaxed water down your throat, and carried you from the car. Now it's just getting you into my old shirt, my knuckles brushing your skin as I pull it over your head. "Lay back then. M' just gonn…