** MAJOR EDITING**
Niall realises he likes Harry, his best friend. But Harry's already drowning deep in a toxic relationship with Liam, his companion.
A story of love, lust, friendship, and abandonment between five friends during their last year of...
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THE SMELL OF WAFFLES wafts to my nostrils. The Cox/Styles's lounge is the first identification of my surroundings, but Harry's nowhere to be found. That awakes me more than the grumbles of my famished stomach below my parched oesophagus.
I ignore the physicality wondering where Harry is. He's not beside me like how we'd fallen asleep last night, engulfed in one another's atmosphere.
After popping in more films when The Outsiders finished, we stayed up more hours into the night before slumber overcame the two of us. Not that I minded — being wrapped in Harry's arms is the most tranquil and comforting warmth I've currently experienced.
Being in Harry's presence is like being surrounded by the many many picture frames engulfing you in a museum. Like the rush of adrenaline you get when everything is going, ever so rarely, right. Right, soothing, and comfortable.
A mixture of all four seasons as Vivaldi would say. Warmth, comfortability, discomfort like the freezing cold winter, and the heat from the too hot summer.
But then I see Harry. I see him wearing a smile brighter than the morning star shining through the window pane this early morning. In a dark, navy blue shirt and boxers, holding a plate of mouth-watering waffles with whipped cream in his hand like a waiter boy. Although he doesn't seem to mind as he sits beside me in our pallet of blankets, leaning over to kiss my cheek.
"You look nice in my shirt, Ni," he comments and I look down to finally realise I am in my best friends shirt. The blush already sporting the features upon my face, deepening, and I turn away from Harry. I only hear him laugh, already shrugging me off.
Then we share the sweetly flavoured waffles. Feeding each other spoons of whipped cream while smearing it around on each other's faces, and my heart warms more than it habitually does everytime I'm legible to see another day unlike some civilians.
It warms because Harry's smiling happily and the simultaneous atmosphere is good vibes and positively bright. And my stomach isn't growling and howling profanities at me for not supplying it with happiness -- it's all good. This morning is .. good.
Harry collects the empty plate afterwards. I thank him with a small but grateful hug as Harry's lips press to my forehead. "Thank you for the breakfast," I murmur into his neck. Harry nods before walking to the kitchen.
