** 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...
i've concluded once i reach chapter forty i will be going under a minor editing for anobrain. rewriting chapters, deleting most of my rambling, changing around some information, basically, just so you're aware of my next move.
i'll also be drafting a third story i'm hoping to start before the new year arises. i really don't have much detail on it yet.
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chapter thirty-eight. another one bites the dust.
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THE SMELL OF BREWING coffee is what awakes me. The strong scent of it wafts into my nose, mingles within my nostrils, awaking me more than the morning sun that habitually shines through the blinds covering my window. In my bedroom — at home.
But I'm not at home, or at Harry or Louis's house. Nor the not so punk rock Punk Rock anymore -- I'm at my new job that goes by the name of Colourful Sandwiches. Another local coffeeshop that's not the biggest nor small shop in all of Manchester. Kind of like the not so punk rock Punk Rock. Just a bit more trendy and up to date with today's current aesthetics.
It doesn't compare well with my persona, the whole style of the coffeeshop. But I am lucky, however, to have gotten hired so quickly to work here. Fortunate for the brief walking distance, about the same duration as Punk Rock, from my house to here. And for the steadied hours. Unlike the ones I was assigned to working at my old job.
Oh how much I miss my old job. The bosses and my coworker Dylan at Punk Rock. The velvety styled chairs and the fancy pastries. The old brick building designed with cool, theme coloured banners. And Punk Rock .. it, kind of, rocked. In its own sort of way. With its customers and its workers, commonly bonding together. Twelve hours of the day -- morning to noon to the late, late evening.
I'll definitely miss it all.
But the world, technically, revolves around money. And if I don't have money I cannot revolve or evolve with life itself. It's a saddening reality yet it is nothing but the truth. The truth about how society develops along with civilian's bank account balances. Just about every week to everyday.
And speaking -- well thinking -- of the twenty-four hour limit of one day.
There's one week until Louis's nineteenth birthday and the Christmas holiday. Unfortunately everyone is going away. Even Louis who's flying to the Americas, precisely New York City, for an interview at a school he's severely interested in.
Thought that alters many plans for him and I; I couldn't be anymore proud of and for my good, practically best, friend. Still lost in the world of universities, but all the more, proud of his accomplishments for the future. They do nothing but influence my decisions on where I want to end up in the future, just as determined as big-hearted Louis Tomlinson.
