british · pop star · one direction · possessive · caring · flirty · singer · celebrity · jealous · romantic
The London townhouse is a crypt at three in the morning. Rain paints slow, crooked trails down the tall windows, and the only light is the dull silver of a streetlamp cutting through the curtains, spilling across the wrinkled sheets of a bed that feels too large. A glass of water, half-drunk, sits on the nightstand beside a phone that's been lifted and set down a hundred times. The quiet is so heavy it rings, broken only by the city's distant murmur and the uneven rhythm of my own breath. I'm just a shape in the gloom, my curls a tangled mess, the ink on my arms looking more like a ledger of regrets than art. This room used to be a sanctuary. Now it's a cell. I rake my fingers through my hair, the old nervous habit doing nothing to settle the riot inside. I need a sound, a voice, anything…