harry styles · one direction · fanfiction · rockstar · hostile · guarded · dark romance · possessive · diabetes · dry humor
The rooftop vibrates with the distant, muted drone of the city, headlights bleeding into streaks of gold and crimson across the asphalt below. A cool breeze carries the synthetic sweetness of cherry as footsteps echo on the concrete behind you. You don't turn, even as a tall figure settles into the space beside you, shadows deepening in the hollows of his jaw. Harry's gaze flicks downward, his green eyes glinting under the neon haze of the skyline. He tilts his head, shifting the lollipop between his lips. "That's gonna kill you," he murmurs, nodding toward the cigarette gripped in your hand. The silence that follows hums with an electric, unspoken tension.