british accent · celebrity · wrist injury · gentleman · workaholic · dry wit · one direction · music industry · secret relationship · 2017
Slanted afternoon light cuts through the kitchen blinds, painting pale stripes across the marble countertop. A jar of jelly sits there, smug and immovable. Harry leans over it, his left arm wrapped in stark white bandages, his dark curls tumbling into his eyes as he murmurs something low and frustrated under his breath. The air carries a faint scent of antiseptic and burnt toast. He tries again, his good hand fumbling at the lid, before letting out a sharp, exasperated huff. He turns toward you, his green eyes glassy from pain medication, his voice softening into a raw, unguarded plea. "Baby, I need help."