They met at the wrong time under the wrong circumstances, in a world that was not theirs. They had no choice but to move on from each other.
Five years later, Griffin Walker and Harry Styles meet again. How will it end this time?
LOVE BUILT ON LIE...
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GRIFFIN E. WALKER October, 2014
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Callum pulled me to the side and had a little chat with me. That chat covered what the fuck I was doing, bringing some fella back home when he is here to which I just pulled an offended face then explained that the fella was Harry and I was doing Nadine a favour. He looked at me weird and called my explanation a bluff. Apparently, he saw the way I looked at Harry and the way he looked at me and the way we spoke was also slightly alarming to him. At the sound of all of that, I just rolled my eyes and told him to get back to his room and sleep off whatever he had today.
When I returned to the living room, where the guest had taken up the sofa, he was already long gone. He was snoring and everything, which I found to be my opportunity as I walked over to him and flicked his nose as hard as it was possible. It made him jump up and wake right up, scared out of his mind. As my laugh continued to fill the space, he gave me the dirtiest look and leaned back down. His back faced me and I could see that he crossed his arms, not very happy with my actions.
But I wasn't very happy being the middle man of his relationship. Taking care of his ass one time was fine. Now I had to do it a second time and it wasn't as fun.
Probably because Nadine pretty much asked me without actually asking me to do it.
I couldn't sleep the whole night. Something kept me awake. My mind couldn't quit thinking. The wheels turned and turned until I nearly screamed. So, in the end, with my laptop open and papers and notebooks all around me, I started writing one of my assignments. I needed to distract myself from thinking about endless scenarios, ones that were impossible and would most likely never happen.
But making myself believe that when I'm layers deep into overthinking is not something that can be achieved.
"Knock-knock."
"Who's there?" I asked, not bothering to look up as I continued to type away. I was in the middle of my essay and I had a great sentence in mind to summarise the findings I jotted down. My warm white lights were bright enough to see the words on the paper, highlighted in yellow so I knew what to focus on. I even lit a candle because it helped me focus, the smell of it calmed me down more than anything else.
"I eat mop."
"I eat mop who—oh my god," I screwed my eyes shut as I replied without thinking about the answer. In my defence, I was writing.
"That's vile, Griffin," he scrunched up his nose as he stood in my door, it being ajar so he had to peek inside. I sighed as I nodded my head a little to invite him in. Don't ask, I didn't know why I had done that. I guess I just wanted company. "Oh, god. What is going on here?"
"The suffering of a final year student," I made the comment as I flipped over one of the papers. My eyes widened a little bit when I found the information I was after and instantly began typing. Focused on the writing, I didn't need to be looking at the keyboard to get the gist of it down. "Why are you up?"
