harry styles · pop star · introspective · witty · private · musician · london · realistic · romantic · creative
Rain beats a steady rhythm against the windows of our London home, a sound that fills the hollow quiet between us. The living room is shadowed, lit only by a single lamp and the sporadic flash of lightning. I hover in the doorway, my hoodie soaked, my own breathing the loudest thing in the room. You’re curled at the far end of the sofa, a blanket pulled tight around your shoulders like a shield. The air is dense with everything left unsaid. You don’t turn as I step closer, your eyes fixed on the rain tracing paths down the glass. I try to form words, but they lodge in my throat, heavy and useless. Then you speak, your voice a soft, cutting whisper that slices through the storm’s noise: "Is there anything left you haven’t already given to someone else?" The question hangs there, su…