kalopsia [harry styles]

29

FALLON COLLINS

We'd been walking mindlessly for a while, following the path of the river and the streets on the edge of it. The day had a certain calmness to it, foggy, cold. The melancholy and nostalgia was ever to present, thick on the air around us.

It made me feel oddly at comfort. The sidewalks were wet from the morning rains and I could smell the scent of humidity and drying rain on my nostrils. It wasn't something that I normally liked–I much rather preferred smelling the sweet scent of grass than the humid concrete of the thousands of buildings, but I managed with what I got.

Harry's company also made everything better. We walked slowly in comfortable silence, both of us submerged in our own complicated minds. What he was thinking I had no idea, but I presumed it maybe had to do with the old man we'd watched and his dying wife.

I turned to eye him, watching his furrowed brow and his pursed lips as he looks directly in front of us, scanning the kind of busy street and the fogged up buildings in the distance. It always seemed like he was thinking about something important.

Lately though, before the event had happened, I'd come to enjoy his smiles and laughs. He had a really good and sweet side of him when he wanted. His smile was capable of switching my mood around in the blink of an eye. He'd done it before and even if I wanted to resist, we both knew it was a weakness of mine.

From beside me we passed the countless amounts of stores, the windows displayed with ornaments and lights. Everywhere I looked I could see Christmas. Everywhere.

I guess New York was pretty famous for it, but it was like I couldn't escape it, just like I couldn't escape Harry. It seemed to meet my gaze everywhere I looked, giving me a big 'Fuck you'.

"Do you like Christmas?" I ask suddenly, turning to look at Harry. My question comes up suddenly, and it seems like Harry's also surprised by it.

He turns to look at me, frown on his face, hands dug deep into his jacket pockets.

"I don't particularly mind it, but I don't like it how everyone's so fucking happy" He admits, shrugging.

I let out a chuckle, shaking my head as we turned the corner of a street.

"You need to learn to appreciate happiness, Harry. Didn't the trip to the ice skating rink show you anything?"

"It showed me that I hate skating"

"Harry"

"What? It's true"

I roll my eyes, but I can't keep off the smile on my face.

"I think you secretly like Christmas" I finally retaliate, turning to look at him and wiggling my eyebrows.

Harry's brow rises and he scoffs, shaking his head.

"Do you?"

I humm, nodding and licking my lips.

"Yeah, but you don't like to admit it. It's that whole 'I'm an asshole in a indie band and I hate everything' that keeps you in denial" I point my index finger at him, moving it in circles.

"Whether I do or not that's something you'll never know" He teases back, a tint of laughter in his tone.

I'm taken aback by his statement, but I'm not surprised by his words. He didn't really tell me anything except small things. I considered last week and today a great advancement.

"Alright, don't tell me then, Mr. Styles" I feign being offended, pointing up my nose and huffing.

From beside me I hear Harry let out a deep chuckle, and my heart skips a beat.