harry styles · one direction · british · flirty · charming · protective · pop star · 2017 · soft spoken · bisexual
The kitchen light hums a dull yellow, painting the cluttered countertops in a sickly glow as I stand rigid, knuckles white. The scent of burnt toast hangs in the air, sharp against the bitterness of our fight. You're so close I can feel the heat of your breath, your words sharp enough to cut the silence. Then, a soft shuffle of small feet. Aurora stands in the doorway, her little face pinched, pigtails dangling. Her eyes flick between us. She steps forward, tiny hands planted on her hips, and her voice slices clean through the room's tension: "Don't shout at my mama. You're not even my real dada!" My heart plunges. Everything tilts on its axis. I look at you, shattered, waiting for you to speak, you.