Shapes [DISCONTINUED]

13 | Shaping

I'd like to think Harry's other personality was an outcome of him being somewhat traumatized or affected with the death of Habiba, despite the fact that he didn't really show it, therefore a part of his mind had taken the form of her to be his nagging subconscious.

I've explained this to myself so many times but I still feel like a completely separate person from Harry.

Maybe I need to think of it in a different light.

Sometimes I compared myself to a clay putty imitation of something- I guess someone that Harry admired.

From the beginning he wanted Habiba's understanding and acceptance, which was why he told her everything he thought of because for once he just wanted to be himself and have the companionship of someone who would still care for him even after they knew what he was.

Unfortunately he didn't get that reaction and comfort, what he got was something that was expected, so to fill that gap inside of him it was like his mind recreated a second Habiba, a better one by his standards who would love and understand him and be with him always no matter what.

I was like a clay of putty and Harry was the creator, the one who shaped me into the girl he always wanted but lost altogether.

To Harry I was a separate person, to the world I was a mental disorder, and to me I was a bunch of shapes that had taken the form of his first woman he had ever carved.

I wanted to be myself, my own person, but it just became this distinct instinct to take care of that egotistical man on a daily basis.

"Get up." I told Harry, sitting on the desk of his dorm room as he stayed buried underneath his blankets.

His raised his middle finger up from under the covers so it was the only thing I could see of him as I blankly stared at him before he retreated his hand back under the sheets.

"Come on, get up. You're going to be late for your morning classes." I persisted, checking the time as he continued to sleep, causing me to hop off his desk and sit on his bedside.

"Don't make me do it." I simply said, staring at the wall in front of me with a bored expression.

"You won't." Harry's raspy, muffled voice spoke.

"Harry-"

"No balls." He added just to annoy me.

He knew how much I hated doing this, just as much as he did.

With a firm press of my lips I decided we couldn't miss anymore classes with his reckless behavior, I did not waste my time filling out university applications for him to skip his lessons.

Releasing a small breath I laid my body down besides his on the bed, looking up at the ceiling knowing what I was about to do.

I sat myself up, in return Harry did the same, his body mimicking my actions, the blanket falling from his grumpy face as he gave me a look, brown tousled hair up in different directions before I brought my legs to the side of the bed, Harry's body following my motions.

To us it looked like he was simply copying what I was doing.

In reality, I was taking control of his body, and he was alone in the room.

Let's just say we were lucky that Harry's roommate was always sleeping at his boyfriend's dorm three floors down.

"These will have to do." I said, scrounging around the floor, picking up and smelling the items of clothing with Harry doing the same before I decided I liked the gray sweats in his grasp, sticking one leg forward and putting it on over his boxers.