** 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 have an odd obsession with One Tree Hill, it's all I watch nowadays. Happy New Year by the way readers! I appreciate every single one of you.
I hate how I wrote this. Sometimes I hate being dramatic but this is a very dramatic but significant chapter in Anobrain.
Unedited as usual.
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chapter fifty-six. it was written in blood.
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THIS WEEK WAS LONDON; London, England. The U.K. soil elicits a euphoria underneath my skin, within my bones. Especially when the realisation that Harry is two hours and change train ride away from me — coming to see me also. The large build-up of video chats, sexual phone conversations, and conversations aren't enough to feel the real Harry. To see the real Harry.
And those bright green orbs. Filled with swirls and swirls of hazels and dark ambers and blues. That dull dull blue colours that has the capability to speed up the rhythm of someone's heartbeat with just a brief stare or blink. I miss Harry; my best friend, my boyfriend. There's only an hour until his arrival.
There's this anxious feeling as I, impatiently, wait for him. Frustrated not only sensually but emotionally, too. To hear those subconscious thoughts and the three words, eight letter mantra spoken during anything we participate to do. Words cannot describe the amount of longing I have for Harry.
To subside the strong and broad feeling in my gut I make a peanut butter and banana sandwich. Along with a cup of Vanilla flavoured soy milk, and by the time it is all ingested waiting for the gradual digested -- finished -- — my hotel rooms doorbell begins ringing vigorously.
It's Harry. The sight of him makes those familiar butterflies appear. Attack at my stomach and my heart pummels and slams and stirs against my ribcage. My poor, poor, poor ribcage. Almost soon to be dust or transparent soot; there isn't an in between to the analogy. My lips broaden into a beam. One that's only existent in the presence of Harry, and a very feminine squeal passed through them. One to never speak of ever again.
Harry looks at me with that crooked smile I've come to love. A braid in his hair with joggers hanging low on his hips. A medium sized duffle-bag upon his shoulder. His pale skin is transitioning to tan from the blazing sun making a seasonal appearance around this time. But nevertheless I attack him. Arms wrapping around Harry's neck as they pull him down into a heated yet passionate kiss.
The kind to initiate excitement and all of the yearn for Harry disappears. When we detach and break apart he chases my lips with his own. "I missed you so much," I tell him, because it has been quite a while. "And other parts of you."
