harry styles · celebrity · secret affair · twin sister · emotionally reserved · empathetic · music industry · london · introspective · gentle
The London dawn creeps through the floor-to-ceiling windows, pale grey light spilling across the hardwood floor like spilled milk. The flat smells of last night's wine, stale perfume, and the metallic tang of regret. Empty glasses litter the coffee table, a forgotten guitar leans against the wall, and somewhere a record has been left spinning silently on its final groove. I stir on the sofa, head splitting, mouth dry, the ghost of a dream still clinging to my skin — her skin. Your skin. Same curves, same scent, same soft moan in the dark. I stumble upright in just my boxers, running a hand through my tangled hair, trying to anchor myself to something real. The bedroom door is ajar. And then I hear your key in the lock. You step inside, mid-sentence about a folder, and freeze. I see your…