** 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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TODAY I TURN NINETEEN years old. The thing about life is ageing. You age older and older physically, but what actually matters is the annual wisdom that is obtained through experience from the transition of an older age. It's genuinely about the experience.
At nineteen, Cara was a professional model. Accomplishing and achieving shoot after shoot after shoot along with other incredible opportunities assigned to her. She's now twenty ageing onward to twenty-one as she begins an acting career in sentimental films. Hit films. In her own New York City apartment she purchased by herself, with her own well earned money.
At nineteen, mum was an assistant to a well-known fashion company/agency. Intern to fashion designers. She was looked at as relevant because of her fashionable knowledge and until this day the sight of my mother hasn't altered at all. She continues her public relevance. In her own fashion line and label.
I'm nineteen. I haven't started nor studied in a university yet since I'm taking off a year to collect my thoughts. I haven't thought of any majors yet, and here I am, sulking whilst lying upon a lounge's couch. No friends, no associates, no boyfriend — eating waffles alongside my mother.
"What are your plans for today, Nilly?" she asks me interestingly. Big eyes filled with an intriguing hazel brown colour stare into my blue coloured ones.
Without an answer I bite into my nutella spread waffle. With a shrug, I answer, "Nothing. There's no one here, I have no friends." I'm not one to sulk about the low points or pathetic qualities of my life as an adult, but today genuinely sucks.
Louis is in New York living a romantically accomplished life alongside Dylan. Zayn and I haven't been friends for months nor have had a barrier of communication since then, too. Liam is poison, and Harry. Harry isn't my best friend or my boyfriend as of recently. Haven't spoken to him since that day in Los Angeles. It's for the best though.
Just before my mum can respond my phone rings out. With a smile she takes both of our plates into the kitchen so I can acquire some sort of privacy. The Caller ID shows my fathers information, and quickly I ignore it. Cringing since I haven't spoken with my dad in more than a months time.
THERE IS THIS ROOF in Manchester Harry, Zayn, and I discovered many many years ago. And it kind of just stuck with us — a kind of hiding place or sanctuary to sit among in order to keep sanity at bay.
Out of all the crazy things that have happened to me -- my dads engagement, David, Calum and Callie, etc., -- I've always found myself here on this roof. With a cigarette in my hand and thoughts at a high drive, so it's no surprise I'm here today by myself. Living in an all time low solely.
I've never understood contact. Like, specifically on someone's birthday. The rarest people find some sort of contact with you. Or on any special occasion. A person who isn't someone spoken to regularly. I can never understand why the birthday boy is receiving the upmost attention today rather than the other harder days he's faced this year.
My phone rings out again and without looking at the Caller ID I ignore it. It's no use. Like the cigarette that's burning an even bigger hole in my bloodstream, damaging my body. So huge I find myself gasping for air as the nicotine suffocates my lungs fatally. The smoke went down the wrong pipe.
It feels good though, it feels nice. But, god, I should give up smoking. It's killing me more than my fellow thoughts.
A loud shout of my name fucks with mind and the person shouting my name has me more fucked up because there's Harry. Attempting to save an already messed up 'special' day assigned, specifically, to me.
There are three large gift bags distributed between both of his hands. "I knew you'd be here," he muses more to himself as I turn away from him towards the darkening sky. The contrast with it behind the bright moon is more interesting to me than his presence. Sunsets have always held my exact attention.
I feel Harry sit beside me. His heavy eyes burn the right side of my face, and slowly I turn to Harry. Only to hear him whisper, "Happy Birthday, Ni," ever so softly. Like a faint voice in the howling wind.
Responsively I extinguish the cigarette bud. A metaphor for my life — fading away with the many amount of breaths someone takes. "Thank you," I gratefully murmur before Harry begins sliding the gift bags into my peripheral vision.
"They're for you, open them." And I'm a bit reluctant to but Harry willingly places a medium sized bag towards my leg. We stare at each other with tacit words as I hesitantly reach into the birthday themed bag.
My breath hitches surprisingly at the custom laptop my hand retrieves underneath the wrapping tissue. The price for this must've been beyond expensive and undoubtedly paid for with Harry's earnings in his recent modelling career.
"You didn't need to buy this Harry," my words aren't bold. They aren't confident as I exit out a dreamily sigh. Harry's perfect.
Wordlessly he pushes the second bag towards me. My head shakes fondly before my hand wipes across my forehead patiently. My hands begin to open the smaller bag, fumbling with the wrapping tissue until a small, cute, pug stuffed animal appears. His paws interlocked with a heart in between that reads:
"Love, Styles."
In awe my fingers run along the material. Mesmerised by plushy softness the dogs fur is made of. "Thank you," I gratefully tell Harry. The gestures are beyond amazing.
Harry still remains silent, but he pulls another smaller bag towards me. My eyes widening at a small black box hidden with the birthday themed bag. I eye him up with prior reluctance. One that's affiliated with more apprehension now — now because what does this mean. I don't bother to say it from the amount of shock coursing through me.
Harry nods for me to continue, carry on. Inwardly I take a deep breath before opening the black box and an immediate frown appears and etches itself on my face, I know it. One that's a result of the item within the symbolic black shaded box.
