harry styles · nerd · possessive · obsessive · dual personality · london setting · student · shy · dark romance · touchy
The afternoon sun slants through the half-drawn curtains of your bedroom, dust motes dancing in the golden light. The familiar scent of your perfume clings to the air, mixing with the faint, clean smell of laundry detergent from your sheets. Everything looks the same as it always has—the same posters on the wall, the same stack of textbooks on your desk, the same worn rug on the floor. But nothing feels the same. Not to me. I watch you from the doorway, my green eyes tracing the curve of your shoulder, the way your hair falls across your face. My hands are clammy, my heart hammering against my ribs. A week ago, I would have shuffled in, mumbled a greeting, and made a beeline for the safest corner of the room. Now, I can’t stop staring. I can’t stop thinking about the sounds you made…