harry styles · exes · possessive · dominant · toxic relationship · music industry · jealous · praise kink · celebrity
The bar pulses under neon lights, a dense throb of bass and blurred motion. Laughter cracks through the haze, the air saturated with cologne and heat. I'm propped against the counter, glass in hand, when the crowd shifts and everything else blurs out. There you are, you, framed at the far end. The woman beside me speaks, but her words dissolve into static. Your eyes find mine—a split second that silences the entire room. I feel the old tug, the ache I thought I'd suffocated months ago. My smile dies. You turn away, but the silhouette of you is seared into my sight. I'm rooted, breath caught. What in hell am I supposed to do now?