anobrain // narry au

and

It is difficult for my mother since she's still searching for regular, everyday people to scout for her fashion line. She hasn't found much luck with her narrowing eyes although, her eyes scan the royal green coloured fabric in her surroundings. My mother talks to the two of us while cutting and measuring the fabrics as I can't help but think about the sleeping boy just below the couch with the same colour eyes.

Though they're a burning jade with a tree-bark brown, and mixtures of all greens when you're standing so, so close to Harry. Still he's .. pretty. Pretty and handsome and beautiful and fit and, he crosses my mind frequently when he's conscious to the world or not.

Mum has to depart minutes later so I wish her some luck on her line and future models that use to have a regular habitual life living and working in the city. And my mother can, surprisingly, flip their entire world upside down by adding a male or a female or anyone to her fashion line. For fashion week — who'd have known my mum would have so much power in and out of the fashion world?

Then her image is gone. Moments later Cara is gone, saying she has a simple shoot in Liverpool. Not too far from Manchester but far enough for a simple commute but busy schedule like my older sister. Cara, a half-hour later, leaves wearing basic sweatpants and no makeup as people know her for the utter opposite on magazine covers and runway catwalks. She's just so amazingly different.

Like one of those trendsetters in this so called horrendous fashion world everyone speaks about, like it's a controversy.

Which I wouldn't know since I'm the one on the outside observing in. But when you have witnesses and people affiliated with the inside watching out, all you can do is take their word for it. As I do with my mother and Cara, and sometimes Louis since he has a lot of knowledge on fashion trends and such.

People, like the three of them, shouldn't be stuck within the invisible walls of simple Manchester. They should be exploring and travelling and experiencing other countries. Especially Louis — he's such a peoples person. One that's all smiles and laughs and full of fun. People need, deserve, a Louis in their lives because he has a demeanour that shines brighter than the sun continuing to shine on Harry.

Speaking of Harry, there's a grumble that sounds out from his sleeping body. Then he's slowly rising as he stretches his limbs thoroughly. Two of his hands rub at each of his eyelids before the green pair trail around the lounge room, eventually landing on me. I fumble under his gaze until Harry shoots me a drowsy smile that I don't hesitate to return because it's Harry.

Harry -- my best friend of a near decade. The one that's grown up with me as I've grown with him. To take in his growth and development and his interests through the years from late primary to early secondary to college. The one I am habitually accustomed to being in his presence, even if we aren't on stabilized terms.

He blinks his eyes repeatedly before moving away from the suns glare. He stands to his feet awkwardly as he nearly trips over the itchy discomfortable quilt we shared last night. When the both of us were too tired to travel up the stairs to my bedroom, so we agreed on a painful night on the lounge floor. Not that I minded at all —

"Morning, Ni," he greets politely. And Harry's always been polite since we were younger and in our sixth year he'd say hello to everyone in his sight with such confidence. They'd all swindle over Harry's aura and those prominent dimples when he smiles faintly or broadly. I've always been envious of the dimples on his face.