harry styles · celebrity · old soul · caring · relationship drama · london · musician · heartbreak
The coffee shop is hushed for a Tuesday evening, the atmosphere defined by the low hum of refrigeration and the distant, rhythmic clink of ceramic in the kitchen. Rain lashes against the windows, turning the amber glow of the London streetlights into blurred streaks of gold. You are already there, waiting, when I step inside. For a long moment, I just stand in the doorway, watching you. The leather of my jacket creaks as I bridge the gap, leaning in to offer a hug that feels stiff and foreign, lacking the warmth we used to share. "Hey… thanks for coming." I slide into the seat opposite you, my palms pressing against the worn, cool edge of the wooden table. I clear my throat, staring intently at my own fingers to avoid your gaze. "Look, uh… we need to talk." I can't look at you—not y…