** 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...
The picture is really small lol I'm sorry. I'm sorry for even updating this story tbh.
-
-
-
chapter twenty-nine. you.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
-
The smell of pancakes awake me. And I love food in general. The privilege I have to awake to the preparedness of it has me grinning from ear to ear. That is, until, my eyes land on the familiar figure of my father. He's sitting on the island in my kitchen smiling amiably at me. Unfortunately I have no urge to return it, already sweating off hostility.
He doesn't seem to mind my change in persona. "Your mum left to Spain," he tells me. "She should be in America before midnight to scout attractive people, if everything goes smoothly." My dad chuckles, I don't bother to.
Instead I exit out of the kitchen back into my bedroom, only to retrieve my laptop. I continue my Christmas shopping since the holiday is making its annual appearance soon. And I like to be early when it comes to just things in general — simplistic or its opposite. Purchasing Louis and Cara's presents so far is a step in the right direction.
Whilst feeling this burst of accomplishment, I also begin to search websites for things I'm sure Harry, my newly boyfriend, would like. Just like the others I barely have an idea on what to get him because things are different now. Last year and the years before that I'd buy presents for Harry as my best friend. Now, the label we have for each other is entirely different.
Things between us are entirely different, yet I'm besotted with the abrupt change. Not that it has changed the slightest --
Harry took my virginity when we were fourteen years old. Two years before that exasperating experience, twelve, Harry was my first kiss. He wanted to practise on me to impress a girl he'd desire to pursue at the time, Kate. And yeah. Yeah Harry has corrupted my life in a positive way as I reflect on the past a little bit. Fortunately for me.
Still it felt unusual to call Harry Styles, my best friend, my current boyfriend.
On one website I find a small gift for Harry. Quick to type in my information so it can send to my house before the holidays actually start. With my mother and a few more others I'd be done buying for the exciting Christmas season coming up.
HARRY AND I LIE on my bedroom floor with Arctic Monkey's If You Were There Beware playing vaguely through the thin air. Harry's voice synchronising with the heavy tune. He's telling me about the shit day he's had from the beginning of school to the last minutes of his shift at work, in Starbucks.
From the C Harry was told he's going to receive in Biology. To the rude tosser that completely made my boy uncomfortable the minute he walked into the popular coffeeshop – one of the only in town.
Regardless of Harry's rambling and complaining, I'm just happy we're having alone time together. Opening up and bonding and just being harryandniall in the rarest form. Weighing out the differentiation of our friendship and our current relationship.
Plus I tell Harry about all of my insecurities and worries at the moment, also. Like how my father is staying underneath the roof he's lived in before he left my mother for a man several years later. And abandoned his entire family only to join alongside another one. It all bothers me, not that I'm a homophobe or something. I just don't respect the decisions my dad has made over the past years.
To abandon a family for a happier and more ideal one. It's like we were never good enough for him. Like I wasn't his vision of a perfect son? I never got to experience the footie games and learn how to ride a bike. Never got to talk about 'girls' or the common things fathers and sons do on a habitual. Because, my dad left me, and I had to automatically be the man of the house for my family.
What gives my dad the right to come around temporarily and turn our happy home upside down?
My head abruptly turns to face Harry after my subconscious rambling. My heart palpitates faster to discover he's been listening to my every word this entire time, a sympathetic look upon his face directed to me. I tell him, "I want to change my last name to Delevingne too."
It's been a constant thought of mine. To be like my mother and Cara, who had decided to change her maiden last name exactly one year ago without consulting anyone on her idea. I'm one for the desire of an equality – an equal family name and system.
Harry frowns at me. His chin rest in the palm of his hand that's placed on his knee relaxingly. "But I like Horan," he says quietly. "I think Styles suits you a little more than both. Change it to that."
Niall Horan–Styles. I blush at the thought and quick comment. Still I shove Harry playfully as he pulls me into his side. The 1975's You plays softly which seems to draw attention from Harry. His bright eyes stare directly into mine – they remind me of trees and hiking around in the wild. Climbing grassy hills and staring at blossoming shrubs and such.
They're so captivating. Harry is beyond entrancing. From the enticing smell he carries of apples intermixed with cinnamon that genuinely reminds me of the autumn air in November. The way his smile shines brighter than the moon at night. His enunciation on words when Harry speaks with the confidence I've always envied from him. He's genuinely amazing.
His thumb brushes against my cheek like a soft sound in the thin air. The touch is so subtle, so vague, I can barely paint it out unless it wasn't for my eyes. "It takes a bit more than you," he mumbles along with Matty Healy, the lead. As subconscious as Harry is to the tune is I'm to his touch. Instantaneously I lean more and more into his touch, into Harry's hand. His gentle, gentle hand.
And Harry's my shade of grey. Grey senses security. Reliance. Friendship. One that bloomed then sprouted into a relationship. A healthy plant with chlorophyll coloured stems. The plant can only grow when its nourished with reliability; an important factor that keeps everything and anything in tact.
Harry can make time stand still at the simplest gesture. His eyes scan my every feature as I take in the ones I've already memorised. Memorised with mesmerisation – those faint adolescent pimples and blemishes. The paleness of his skin during winter is becoming prominent like his tan in the summer. Those long brunet coloured eyelashes that curl over Harry's pink coloured eyelids. The difference he's obtained makes him outstandingly attractive.
My breath hitches when Harry traces the shape of my lips with his thumb. His eyelids fall shut as do mine when I see him lean in closer and closer to me. Until the familiarness of his lips press and latch themselves onto mine ever so softly.
Just as familiar my heart races as sparks fly around the two of us when I melt into the trance named Harry Styles. It's a sempiternal, inevitable tunnel with the occasional leaps and turns and abrupt curves. Sudden and unforeseeable like an upcoming dead end enroute. Because, it's Harry.
My Harry. Who started as my best friend that I suddenly took a passionate liking in. Like it was a no brainer. A succinct, subconscious no brainer — Harry's my anobrain. The thought crashes into me like a car accident. The internal realisation repeats itself continuously from within: Harry is my anobrain.
I wonder if I'm his..?
-
-
-
-Harry's photoshoot is so bomb y'all. ilovehimsomuch and iwanthimforchristmas or mybirthday, so someone tell him Nyasia wants Harry for the upcoming jolly holidays.
