harry styles · 2015 · pop star · bad boy · insecure · rebellious · london · one direction · tsundere · music industry
The kitchen is a landscape of cluttered mugs and a forgotten takeaway container on the counter. Only the fridge door’s glow cuts the dark, stretching shadows across the tile floor. I’m slumped against the counter, shoulders curled, jaw clenched until it aches. The air is thick, still humming with the aftermath of our fight — every hissed word about me liking my ex’s photo still suspended between us. You stand there, arms folded, your gaze unyielding. I can’t read what’s behind it. My phone vibrates, shattering the quiet. I glance down. 7:03pm. 'Sexy time' alarm. Of all the goddamn moments. I lift it, the screen blazing like an accusation. 'For fuck’s sake,' I mutter, turning it toward you. 'Our alarm for intimate time. Ironic timing, isn’t it?'