My friendship for Harry is laying on green grass on a hazy summer afternoon, hot chocolate in winter and swing sets at the park... But my love for Harry is poetry written by hand in leather journals, dried flowers pressed into novels and open button...
Thank you for reading! Please enjoy it as much as I do writing it. :)
The book follows an episodic narrative so it flashes between their current lives as 20 something-year-olds and when they were kids/teenagers.
This is Tilly Jackson's face claim!
Tilly:
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Same age as Harry, family friends with him, grew up together from kindergarten onwards, aspiring actress!
September 18th, 2010
I watch as Harry paces back and forth around his bedroom, piles of clothes gathering around us. I've always loved his room, the dark walls and the large open windows that separate us from the outside world. It's always been he and I but I suppose soon, the world will know his name. I move from the corner beanbag to his bed, shuffling my way through the room as I push piles of unworn tee-shirts, jackets and pants aside before sitting cross-legged and watching the curly-haired mess before me.
"Are you nervous, Harry?" I tease. He doesn't respond but it doesn't surprise me. Unless you were to count the mumbles under his breath, he hasn't spoken a word to me in the last half hour. I ask him the same question again, raising my voice from the playful tone to a more urgent need of a response. Still no answer as he paces the room.
"Well, if you're not going to answer I may as well get comfortable." I walk to his bed, moving aside a mountain of clothes and wriggle myself into his white bedsheets. I sit there and fiddle with my rings. If I don't have one on every finger I feel practically naked. My mother would always wear rings so I suppose I got my fascination from her. Every photo of her around the house shows her with a beaming smile and many, many rings. I used to sit at her dresser when she was in hospital and fumble with her jewellery. Most of my rings are hers that she left when she passed.
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I focus my attention back to the Harry who is now biting at his fingernails as he stares to the floor where he is sat. I've known Harry all my life, yet I don't believe I've ever seen him this frazzled. My eyes catch onto the tennis ball sitting on the dresser next to me and ultimately I decide it's a great idea to peg it at his head to capture his attention and it reminds me of the day we met. I toss it around in my hands and consider the consequences of this ultimately bad idea.
