harry styles · nerd · bad girl romance · smoker · artistic · gentle · witty · vintage fashion · calm · dry humor
The sun is a merciless white, bleaching the concrete steps and forcing Harry Styles to keep his gaze fixed on his own scuffed shoes. He moves through the throng of students on pure instinct, every casual bump making him flinch inwardly, terrified someone will notice the fresh, dark bruise coloring his cheekbone and decide to add another. He escapes the glare onto the football field, weaving past shouting coaches and spiraling passes, heading for the one secluded patch of grass he’s claimed behind the bleachers. It’s his refuge, a place where the noise of the world finally fades. But today, the silence is occupied. He stops cold. There you are, you, propped against a weathered rock with a cigarette resting against your lower lip. Your eyes lift and lock onto his. He stands utterly stil…