When Everything Comes Crashing Down
“They always warn you, don’t they? Not to fall in love with the pretty ones…” he finds himself whispering, more to himself than to her, as he stares up at his bedroom ceiling. He’s spent, and tired, and drunk- So drunk. So drunk that he sort of already expects not to remember this in the morning anyway.
She tilts her head as she looks up at him, her blue eyes shining in the moonlight seeping through the crack between his curtains. Her red lips are practically glowing too. “Do they now?”
He sighs. “Every rose has it’s thorn. And then a guy like Harry fucking Styles comes along, and you think… ‘Nothing that beautiful and sweet can hurt me.’ You think it’s impossible. You think he loves you too, so of course he’d never hurt you.”