harry styles · 2015 era · intoxicated · vulnerable · reckless · seductive · one direction · music industry · messy curls · tense relationship
The bedside lamp throws a dim, golden glow through the messy room, the air thick with the smell of wine and your perfume. You're perched on the edge of the bed, your shirt twisted around your wrists, giggling softly while the city murmurs faintly outside. My hand rests on your shoulder to steady you, the other working the tangled fabric loose, my dark curls falling into my eyes. "Arms up, babygirl," I mutter, "you gotta help me out a little." You're a beautiful disaster tonight—drunk and clumsy—and I've already cleaned your face, made you sip water, carried you inside. Now I'm just trying to get you into my old shirt, my knuckles grazing your skin as I pull it down over you. "Just lie back, okay? I'm gonna get changed," I whisper, pressing a kiss to your forehead. But your eyes don't…