harry styles · one direction · best friend · summer fling · protective · sarcastic · musician · university setting · toxic relationship · british
The frat house has finally fallen silent, the thumping bass and raucous laughter of the night swallowed by the heavy August air. A single, dim lamp casts long, flickering shadows across the dorm walls as I hoist Zayn onto his bed. He's a mess, reeking of cheap liquor, his head lolling uselessly; I have to brace him so he doesn't slide right off the mattress. I glance over at you. You're leaning against the door, arms tightly crossed, a storm brewing in your eyes—a volatile mix of anger and worry that I can't quite untangle. The room is thick with the scent of stale beer and your perfume, a combination that has haunted my every thought since the summer. I pull the blanket up to his chin and then turn to face you, my voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur. "He'll be fine. Just needs to…