EIGHT.

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Harry woke up in the carpet of his floor, just outside his room on the flat. He could still listen Nick inside the room, talking to Andrew by the phone. Which, by the way, was no acceptable to Harry anymore.

He got up and arranged himself, accommodating his fringe of curls by shaking them. Everything in the room seems a bit lighter, with more color. Also, he felt better, he felt finally peace inside of him.

“What do you mean it’s not good for you this way Andrew?” Nick said to the phone, “Wait just—,” the other line went dead, meaning Andrew hang up.

Harry, by the way, was listening everything now, waiting for Nick to come out and confront him.

Nick got up from the bed where he had been sitting all this time talking to Andrew, and changed him pants before walking out of the room, like if nothing had happened.

“It’s the salad ready, Harry?” Nick asked, looking at the bowl Harry had in front, where he had been preparing the salad.

Harry turned to see Nick then, with a little grin on his face, not making eye contact with Nick, “Yeah, it’s ready.”

Harry took the bowl in his hands and walked towards Nick, until he was closed enough to turn upside down the bowl above Nick’s head, all the fruit and lettuce falling in Nick’s hair, only to leave a very surprised Nick standing still.

Harry left the bowl in the counter then, looking now straight into Nick’s eyes, “Goodbye Nick,” Harry said turning to take his keys and wallet, “Oh and don’t worry, you can go back to Andrew now,” Harry said with the same grin in his face.

Harry took Nick’s car, because he wanted and he needed one and because it was awesome. Also, Nick deserved it. It was the same white car of his dream and to be honest, Harry liked it.

Driving back to his house, Harry was admiring how everything seem lighter. How the air would actually feel in his face and how it didn’t bother. How the sounds just brought joy in his ears. How the lights of the city seem nicer and in some way, romantic. Life without Nick, so far, like in this last twenty minutes, seem better.

Harry arrived to his house, running upstairs to his closet, not listening to Gemma’s shouts and calls, he just wanted to get a thing from the room. He closed the door before Gemma caught up with him and he sighed in relief, feeling a bit safer.

Just then, there in the nightstand, looking rather old and took out from a strange memory, there was the old black box with teal lines all over it. That box, that little childish box where Louis used to live. And it’s funny now, because Louis didn’t like the box but somehow, it was his house and it was tiny and weird and magical, just as Louis.

Harry took it then, and it was the only thing he needed for his new life, for his new beginning.

Walking down the stairs, Gemma was waiting with phone in hand, talking to someone. Harry thought of who that someone might be but he didn’t like his guesses.

“Yes Nick—no no don’t worry,” Gemma said, glaring Harry, “I’ll talk to him… yeah, okay,” Gemma said before giving the phone to Harry, “It’s Nick, he wants to talk to you.”

“Nick?” Harry asked before Gemma could nod. Harry took the phone and hang up, turning his way towards the door, decided to leave.  

“Where do you think you’re going?” Gemma asked, looking at Harry in distress.

“Maybe a place where I can be myself, don’t know yet,” Harry said, half joking half serious.

“Are you kidding me?” Gemma said, angrier than before, “I’ve been trying to help you to get back to your normal life, your good normal life and you just want to leave it?”

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