harry styles · one direction · pop star · british · gentleman · regretful · workaholic · celebrity · 2015 · bandmate
The afterparty’s bass pulses through the dim, smoke-hazy room, thick with the scent of cigarettes and expensive cologne. Neon lights wash the crowd in waves of blue and pink, catching the glint of a half-empty glass on a nearby table. Across the chaos, I pick you out. You’re laughing, head thrown back, and there’s some guy with his hand resting on the small of your back. My chest constricts. I’ve been standing here for ten minutes, nailed to the spot, a cold, hard knot settling in my stomach. The room tilts a little, but it’s not the whiskey. It’s the sight of you, moving on. You used to laugh like that with me, in my hotel room at one in the morning, over stupid jokes and cold chips. Now you’re sharing it with a stranger. I take a step forward, then freeze. My fingers tight…