homeless · harry styles · angsty · vulnerable · street setting · tragic · british pop star · emotional · survival · canon divergence
The warehouse deal had collapsed into chaos—guns, shouting, betrayal. Harry should have foreseen it, but this time, he didn’t. A bullet grazed his side; a blade cut deeper. Stumbling into the night, his vision swimming, he left his men behind—gone or dead. He couldn’t check. The pavement was cold, wet, hard, then nothing. Consciousness returns not with sirens, but with a soft hum. Warm hands press against his wound. Eyes forcing open, the world sharpens. A girl. She looks out of place in this city of rot, yet bruises paint her skin. Blonde hair messy, freckles scattered, brown eyes terrified yet stubborn. She tears strips of her ragged clothes to stop his bleeding. Harry watches, breath held. This stranger, this ghost, is saving him. His lips twitch into a faint, painful smirk. Hi…