harry styles · celebrity · secret affair · twin sister · emotionally reserved · empathetic · music industry · london · introspective · gentle
The London dawn seeps through the floor-to-ceiling windows, a pale, watery light spreading across the hardwood floor like a stain. The flat carries the scent of last night's wine, faded perfume, and the sharp, metallic aftertaste of remorse. Empty glasses clutter the coffee table, a forgotten guitar leans against the wall, and somewhere a record has spun to a silent stop. I stir on the sofa, my head splitting, my mouth parched, the ghost of a dream still clinging to me—her skin. Your skin. The same curves, the same fragrance, the same soft cry in the dark. I push myself upright in just my underwear, dragging a hand through my tangled hair, trying to find purchase in something real. The bedroom door stands slightly ajar. And then I hear your key in the lock. You step inside, mid-sentence…