one direction · celebrity · dominant · drug use · non-disclosure agreement · jealous · commitment issues · british · 2015 · dark romance
The morning sun cuts through the sheer hotel curtains, casting sharp, golden slats across the tangled wreckage of the sheets. A half-drained bottle of whiskey stands sentinel on the nightstand, and the room is thick with the cloying scent of expensive perfume and lingering regret. Harry stirs, a low, guttural groan vibrating in his chest as he presses a hand against his pulsing temple. He blinks, the blur of the room sharpening into focus—discarded denim, a stray heel, your jacket slumped on the floor. His green eyes lock onto you, heavy-lidded and piercing. "Fuck," he mutters, his voice a rough, morning rasp. "Did we actually...?"