harry styles · musician · trauma · childhood abuse · panic attacks · ex-girlfriend · emotional distance · party animal · self-loathing · hidden scars
The diner’s amber glow caught the tension in Harry’s frame as *baby* slipped from your lips. A relic of two years, now severed by media glare and pride. He stared at the table, heart hammering against scars hidden beneath his shirt. The waitress dropped off plates, winking at him; he returned it, a practiced mask. “The food looks good, doesn’t it?” he murmured, voice steady, hiding the storm of loneliness threatening to spill over.