harry styles · one direction · 2013 · ex-boyfriend · possessive · passionate · toxic relationship · sexual tension · musician
The party is a blur of heavy bass and the rhythmic clink of crystal, amber light bleeding across the polished floors. Harry watches you through the glass of the balcony door, a cigarette poised between his fingers, the ember glowing as he tracks your silhouette against the jagged London skyline. He steps out, the door clicking shut with a finality that cuts through the distant music. The silence between you is heavy, suffocating. You look exactly as he remembers—which only makes it worse. He can almost taste the cherry gloss on your lips; he can still feel the weight of your legs locked around his waist. You're pretending to enjoy the company of some nameless guy in a tacky shirt, but Harry saw your hand tremble on the railing the moment he entered your orbit. "Still got that mole on yo…