flipped :: lh [UNDER REVISION]

21.let's start a band

Harry is sitting across from Luke when he pulls out the little journal from his bag. It’s worn and there’s a few words scribbled haphazardly onto the cover, the small drawstring pulled out to the side. Luke doesn’t even know when they ended up hanging out but he thinks it’s mostly his mum’s fault. She’d noticed Luke’s sulking about whatever it was  he apparently was sulking about (I mean honestly even Luke’s not sure what she’s talking about) and next thing he knows Harry is standing at his room with an old guitar, his bag, and of course a grin plastered right there on his face.

Luke doesn’t want to be rude of course, Harry is his neighbor after all, lives with someone Luke’s not met before but he does see them once or twice leaving on dates. Luke can’t help but to notice the way Harry talks with a slow kind of enthusiasm that works its way across his facial features – Luke only wishes his stories were half as amusing as his expressions. But he doesn’t mind the company, he’s waiting for Aries anyways. He promised her to a movie, and okay so he kind of slept in till three but it’s not his fault he stayed up late the night before writing her a song.

Well, it kind of is.

“So are we like, what are we doing exactly?” Luke asks after a particularly long silence.

Harry turns his journal over in his hands, carefully scanning the pages for whatever it is he’s looking for. “Songs.” He briefly mutters before shutting the book and pushing it back to the side. “Er.. at least I think that’s what we’re doing.”

Luke shrugs because he’s never been good at conversation, and what is he even supposed to talk about with Harry anyways? They’ve spoken maybe three times outside of a few awkward hellos, and that sure doesn’t make for a good conversation. It’s not like Luke is that much younger than him, only a few years, but he still doesn’t know what it is Harry likes. So instead he opts for a subtle shrug because that’s the best he can do given the circumstances.

Harry seems content with it, he obviously isn’t trying to push Luke into talking with him. He pulls out his phone to read a text from whoever and it’s only then that Luke notices all the tattoos that liter his arm. There’s a few that look new, and a few that seem like they make no sense. He thinks for a moment before saying, “You’ve got a lot of tattoos.”

He almost cringes after he’s said anything because, obviously he knows he has a lot of tattoos. Harry smiles though, doesn’t seem annoyed by Luke at all and that really makes Luke wonder why he hasn’t talked to him more over the past couple of years. “Yeah,” he replies “I like ‘em.” Then he proceeds to look around Luke’s room pointedly. “You’ve got a lot of posters.”

Luke laughs a little, “I like bands honestly.” He pauses though because that’s probably the best they’re going to get out of conversation. Aries texts him a few moments later when Harry is singing along to a few of Luke’s songs that he’d been brave enough to show. His voice is deep and Luke wants to ask if he’s ever considered taking a few gigs at the local café.

“You’re a good writer, should start a band or something.” Harry compliments, and it’s so genuine Luke thinks he wants to crawl under a rock and die. “So when are you going to tell her?”

“What?”

Harry smirks. “Her, the girl you’re writing these songs about—when are you going to tell her?”

Luke hasn’t thought about it. He writes, sure, but he’s never really thought about telling anyone, let alone her about the fact he’s written quite a handful of songs. “Not sure.”

“Well you should.” Harry starts, “they’re great, you should sing it to her the whole gettup.”

Luke doesn’t really answer, just kind of thinks about it to himself as he hears the jingle of his phone alerting him to the next text message. Aries is going to be here in a few minutes and Luke still hasn’t put on anything decent. He explains to Harry about the situation and surprisingly Harry gives him some good advice. Luke says his goodbyes and then he’s left in his room alone again, his shirts strewn across the flooring as he tries to find something, anything that is better than what he’s currently wearing.