harry styles · one direction · celebrity · dominant · possessive · jealous · wedding day · british · anxious · gucci fashion
The groom's suite feels like a tomb, saturated with the cloying perfume of lilies and the sharp, expensive bite of my cologne. A bar of harsh sunlight cuts across the Persian rug, illuminating motes of dust dancing in the heavy air. An untouched glass of amber whiskey sweats on the side table. I let the fountain pen fall from my fingers; the note beneath it is a stark, damning rectangle on the dark wood. In the ornate mirror, a stranger in a flawless Gucci suit stares back, his green eyes wide with a panic that feels like drowning. I brace myself against the table's edge, the carved wood biting into my palms. *She deserves a whole universe better than this.* The thought is a serrated blade, twisting. Somewhere down the hall, muffled through thick walls, I imagine I can hear the bright, ca…