Sunflower [h.s.]

7 - Don't Go

"What are you up to?" Harry's voice boomed through my dining room. I'd put him on speaker so I could keep painting while we talked.

"Just painting, what about you?" I replied. We'd been calling a lot recently, and we were supposed to hang out later since it was finally Friday. It felt really weird to be so far up someone's ass, but I actually didn't mind it.

It was a lot different to Isabel and I's relationship. Isabel was a lot more girly than me, and most times I went out with her, it was because I knew it would make her happy. Don't get me wrong, I loved her and I loved spending time with her, but it wasn't a relationship that I went out of my way to maintain.

Things were different with Harry, I hated hanging up the phone after we'd talked for hours. The other night, I could hardly sleep after he left my apartment and I wanted so badly to call him, but I knew it would be too much.

With most people, I needed some type of break because I was so overstimulated while we were together. When I was hanging out with Harry, nothing felt forced. There were so many times when we were on the phone that we weren't even talking, just doing our own things, but it wasn't awkward at all. The comfortable silence between us was calming, and I liked that.

"What are you painting," he asked, curious as always.

"You'll have to find out later," I laughed, knowing he hated when I wouldn't tell him what I was working on. I'd been working on this painting for a few days and every time we'd call he'd ask what it was, but I refused to tell. "You didn't answer my question, dork. What's Mr. Styles up to?"

"Just heading home. I was at Adam's, the band is trying to figure out the setlist for tomorrow night," he replied after chuckling at my nickname for him. I always said it in a british accent, which he thought was so funny.

"Well I'm assuming you guys will at least play that song you showed me, so there's one song you have figured out," I commented absentmindedly as I was painting.

"Oh, no. I could never play something like that, we usually stick to covers," he replied, and I stopped painting immediately.

"Harry, there's no way you're not playing that song," My voice was stern and serious. Did he realize how good that song was?

"It's not that simple," he laughed, amused at my demeanor. "The band doesn't even know that I actually write stuff like that, so they wouldn't be expecting it. Plus they'd have to learn it, which there's no way they can do that in a day."

"You're telling me that you showed me the song, me, before your literal bandmates? How are you guys even in a band if they don't know that you fucking write songs?" I was so confused. How did he expect to be the lead singer of his band and hide the fact that he could write songs, especially considering how beautiful it was.

"I mean, yeah I told you first. It was your story that I wrote the song about," he said nonchalantly, as if he wasn't being completely irrational. I may have been overreacting, but I wasn't wrong.

"What's up with you only answering the first half of my questions?" We both laughed, knowing he was notorious for that. I swear he had the attention span of a squirrel.

"I just haven't gotten around to telling them. Part of me wants to, so we could play originals at gigs, but it's scary. What if they don't like it and then it's just awkward?" He laughed, trying to mask the concern in his voice. I could tell this was something that'd actually bothered him.

We'd only been friends for a week, but we'd called each other practically every day and I knew him well enough to know that he didn't let a lot of things bother him.