Night after night passed where Harry's bed was left empty and Aubry's was taken by two. After a pile of Aubry's dirty clothes grew in the corner of the room, the fridge was stocked with chocolate milk and the only thing in the freezer was Reese's peanut butter cups. Aubry still made shitty coffee, and Harry hardly ever got out of bed before two p.m. When Niall grew comfortable and began walking around the apartment in white briefs and tube socks, late night movie marathons were had on the couch with junk food and Harry's belly begging him for a vegetable. Living with Aubry also opened him up to the realization that it may have been a woman thing to disregard privacy, because more than just once did she bust in the bathroom while he was brushing his teeth to use the toilet, and more than just once did he have to double check that the lock was latched when he needed to use it himself. Or, perhaps, it was just an infuriating reminder that he really had fallen in love with someone who was just as much like his mother as he feared.
The first day of her classes, after five days of sitting at home, was the only morning he bothered to get out of bed before noon, only to crawl back under the covers after walking her the few blocks to campus. It was also the day he opted out of a four o'clock pizza snack for the fifth day in a row and granted himself time away from the grease for a shower. His privacy was short lived, because he startled when the door opened up and knocked shampoo bottles off the shelf. They clattered to the floor, his feet shuffling away as quickly as possible to avoid injured toes, and Harry's eyes peered out from behind the curtain to find Aubry reaching for a toothbrush. "Hi, I'm naked."
He watched her squirt toothpaste onto the bristles, her eyes glued to his silhouette in the foggy condensation clinging to the mirror. Clothes were scattered across the floor, and water dripped from the tip of his nose. "Nice."
The curtain was pulled closed completely while he submerged himself back under the water stream. "I'm almost done, can it wait?"
"No," she mumbled, her mouth already filled with sudsy toothpaste. He peeked out again just barely, just an eye to see she was busy, and he returned to his task trying his best to keep from feeling shy.
He jumpstarted again when the shower curtain moved, and he rapidly turned around to hide himself from her eyes, "I'm manscaping, go away!"
She laughed, stepping away to spit into the sink, but she returned to the open space of the shower curtain to peer in on his nude frame. "You're not going bald, are you?"
"No, I'm not ten years old," he grumbled, razor in hand, and it might've been a little less embarrassing if she hadn't caught him with his leg propped up on the edge of the tub for easy access. "Would appreciate if you'd stop startling me while I have a blade next to my balls, though. Please go away, I'm naked and vulnerable."
"You have a really cute butt," she grinned, her toothbrush being popped back into her mouth while he cowered away and tried to protect his body from her eyes. "I've never gotten a chance to actually look at it before. Perky and round, so cute."
His hand splayed out on his behind trying to hide his perky round cheeks the best he could, "Yes, I get it. I'm great, go away."
She laughed some more, though she willed him the respect to pull the curtain shut again. "Don't forget to shave your grundle."
"I was, before you so politely interrupted me." His line of vision peered out for his next point, "I'll walk in on you during your body hair removal next time. See how it feels."
"Jokes on you, I wax."
He stepped back under the water, "Waxing is for people who hate themselves." The razor ran over his skin quickly a few last times, and the water stream was put to an end. "Could you at least hand me my towel so I can cling onto a fraction of my dignity?"
The fabric was shoved behind the curtain before he covered up and stepped out, finding her to be tweezing the hairs between her brows in the circle she'd smeared clear in the mirror. She watched him through the reflection, eyes flitting down to the towel around his waist. "Let me see your work."
"No," he snorted. "Pervert."
She turned, taking in the sight of glistening wet skin and dripping hair. "Come here."
"Should I trust you?"
"Yes, come here," she repeated, and reluctantly he stepped closer.
He came just close enough for her to reach up and tweeze an eyebrow hair off his face, and reflexively he pulled back, rubbing at the spot. "Ouch." He pulled even further away when she reached to do it again, "Leave my eyebrows alone."
Her fingers clasped onto his arm, giggling while she tried and failed to continue. He was too tall, and too quick. "Please?" she laughed, Harry swatting her tweezers away.
"No." He cracked a smile, but dodged her entirely when he reached for his own toothbrush. He shied away from her touch, and it wasn't until he was scrubbing his teeth that she perched herself on the counter with a smile. The tweezers clambered when she dropped them to the surface beside her, and fingers brushed along the damp skin of his arm.
With a foamy mouth, he peered over at her, nose scrunching her way teasingly and she chuckled. "Cute butt."
His eyes rolled, just before she reached to squeeze at his face. He pulled away again, toothpaste splattering in the sink, "Stop picking at me."
She refused, grasping onto both cheeks to pull his head back when he tried leaning away, and again her fingers squished at his skin, "You have a blackhead."
"Ow," he whined, shrugging her touch off again just to rub at the sore spot and peer at the reddened skin in the mirror. "Could you at least be nicer about it?"
"No," she denied, and she continued to squeeze while he continued to whine.
He whimpered, toothbrush being popped back into his mouth, and he leaned away and pushed her hands off some more while he continued brushing. She didn't stop bugging him, and eventually he gave up and let her pick at his face under the bathroom light. Thumbs pressing into his nose to squeeze what she could from his pores, causing his eyes to water.
"I met a weird art kid today."
"Ah," he cried, pulling away just to rub the pain away on his cheek. He let her finish anyway. "Yeah?"
"Her name's Daphne, if that's any indication on the type of person we're talking about here," she chuckled while she leaned over to grab the face towel hanging on the loop beside the sink. Cold water ran from the tap over the cloth, and she patted the sore spots on his skin with it to soothe. "But she's the first New Yorker I've gotten a chance to speak to, and she's very... eccentric. She has overly bleached blue hair and her eyebrows look like black Sharpie blocks on her forehead, but she likes painting and designing clothes."
His eyelashes fluttered when the towel delicately touched beneath his eye. "First friend?"
"I wouldn't go that far," she disagreed, her attention turning to pull the medicine cabinet open. A squeeze tube was pulled out, and Harry watched her screw the top open. "First acquaintance, more like. But," her smile grew, "she's also the first person I found that has access to weed."
Grey goop was smeared across his cheek. "What are you putting on me?"
"Clay mask, relax," she mumbled, spreading it across his skin. It sort of felt nice.
