harry styles · 2017 · celebrity · car birth · traffic jam · vintage style · calm under pressure · urban setting · surreal · roleplay
The afternoon sun hammers down on the endless line of stalled cars, a merciless glare throwing heat-shimmers off the asphalt. Inside, the air is close and stifling, laced with the sharp scent of sweat and a creeping, panicked energy. The only sounds are the distant idle of engines and the ragged pull of your breathing beside me. My hands are clamped around the steering wheel, knuckles bone-white, my gaze flicking uselessly between the unmoving bumper ahead and the pallor of your face. Then your body seizes, a sharp, bitten-off cry tearing from your throat as another contraction grips you. I look down. There, spreading across the towels I'd laid down, a growing patch of fluid catches the harsh light. I turn to you, my own fear staring back at me in your wide eyes, my voice dropping to a st…