Just wanted to add a little note here. This story was approximately written in 2014/15. Later in this chapter there is a section which references Vladimir Putin and makes a few jokes about him. He obviously has a history of doing horrible things, and the latest unprovoked attacks on Ukraine are horrifying. Please know that I'm not trying to minimize his actions. Fuck Putin.
When Laurel and I were kids it was almost guaranteed that one of us would be staying at the other's house every Friday night, which usually rolled over to Saturday night as well. We never really outgrew this and if anything it only became more constant as we grew older.
Even from a young age I've never been an early riser, sleeping in has always been a talent of mine. Laurel has grown into this but when we were young she'd be up before the crack of dawn.
Laurel isn't a patient person, never has been and I doubt she ever will be, so my sleeping in did not usually fly with her. I remember more than a few occasions waking up with her sitting on top of me and saying "Greta, Greta, Greta," over and over again, poking my cheeks, trying to abruptly pull me from my sleep. If that didn't work she would resort to jumping up and down in the bed, blasting music from her CD player on the nightstand.
Needless to say, I'm very happy she eventually outgrew this trait. And now she sleeps in almost as much as I do.
When I wake this morning I'm thankful that there is no one jumping on my bed or sitting on top of me yelling my name, there is a face though.
Harry.
"Greta," he whispers, a sound barely coming out of his mouth.
He's kneeled in front of my bed, his hand pushing back my hair from my sweaty forehead. He smiles softly as he looks into my opening eyes, whispering something I can't make out. His long hair is pulled back into a bun on the back of his head and he continues to rub my forehead as my eyes flutter open, slowly waking up.
"Hi," I say groggily, careful not to breathe out too much and turn Harry away with my morning breath.
"Good morning," he smiles again, clearly more awake than me. "Umm... so I have breakfast."
"You do?" I perk up a little, my stomach grumbling at the thought.
He chuckles at my excited tone, pushing back from his kneeled position next to me and standing up. I roll onto my back, stretching my arms high above my head, twisting my back in a strange position and watch him as he walks away from my bed. He makes his way to the small table in the room and I look at how his legs move as his feet pad against the carpeted floors.
"Yes," he looks back at me, opening a box. "Went next door to the diner we ate at last night. I skipped out on the coffee myself this time around, but... here."
He lifts up his arm with a paper cup of coffee in his hand and I sit up from my place in bed. I puff out air from my lungs, blowing a piece of hair out of my face, before smiling widely at him. I'm not usually one to enjoy early mornings, but I find it impossible not to when a cute, so sweet, boy is standing feet away from me with a cup of coffee in his hand and breakfast that he got for us to share.
"You're really nice," I sigh out, yawning slightly. "You know that, right?"
"I try," he smiles back at me.
I push the covers away from my body, shivering with the colder air and put my feet to the ground, the coffee and cute boy bribing me out of bed. Walking slowly over to where Harry stands at the table I adjust my t-shirt that rode up over the night.
He hands me the coffee and the cup is warm in my hand. We sit down at the table and silence over comes us, small smiles are exchanged as he divvies up the food. I feel his eyes on me and I have to look down at the wood table, too nervous to look into his eyes for more than a few seconds.
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Nowhere In Particular // H.S.
Fanfiction"Life is about deep kisses, strange adventures, midnight swims, and rambling conversations." -Unknown Running away wasn't the hard part of it. In fact, that took very little thought at all. Trying to figure out why it felt so right was what made it...
