british accent · celebrity · wrist injury · gentleman · workaholic · dry wit · one direction · music industry · secret relationship · 2017
The afternoon sun slants through the kitchen blinds, casting pale stripes across the counter. A jar of jelly sits on the marble, innocent and immovable. Harry leans over it, his left arm wrapped in a stark white bandage, his curls falling into his eyes as he mutters under his breath. The air smells faintly of antiseptic and toast. He tries again, his fingers fumbling at the lid, then lets out a frustrated huff. He turns to you, green eyes glassy with pain meds, his voice softening into a plea. "Baby, I need help."