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"Can you taste that, ni? it's adventure. cheers." Harry said, and threw back a full gulp of his whiskey. aged 25 years, and an expensive bottle at that. nothing short of damn good, though, that's for sure. it tasted smokey and charred and so soft and sweet and full as it slipped past his supple lips, slid down his warm throat, and glided past his nose with the delicately woodsy scent.

tonight was a good night, he thought. they'd spent the day exploring Bangkok, seeing all of the cities ins and outs and in-betweens and underneaths and inside outs. they'd finished the day off with a drink, and this was apparently the bar to do it at. 

he looked around the sallow bar, seeing the faces of young, cheap women and older, bearded men, all generally Asian, all looking for a good time.

the bar was bathed in blue and purple lights, softly illuminating the juxtaposition of dark and hard colors, showcasing the chiseled edges of muscle on everybody, the soft glow and beam of a natural dewy skin complexion. the smell of chagrined sweat, the sound of rubbing bodies and pulsating music, and the sight of bodies and minds and voices and opinions interacting Above the area that Harry called his swirling and tossing mind.

Harry liked that, he mused. seeing hard and soft, light and dark, all rolled into one. it was a lovely, lovely little sight he treasured.

he shifted at his bar stool, his Hawaiian shirt billowing softly as the people around him danced to the soft sounds of ethnic music, a heavy bass guitar rhythm and a cocky little drum solo prickin at his ears and twanging in his heart and thumping in his fingertips.

the people in Bangkok were lovely, Harry learned. always willing to help you, smilin, and awfully pretty, all the boys and girls. just so pretty inside and out and Harry loved the purity, loved the niceness, loved the city.

it smelled like puke, was excruciatingly run down, and trashy as fuck, but goddamn did he love it. and he loved being a part of it, and being here with ni. he thought it was his new favorite city.

"God, this whiskey is fantastic." Niall moaned, sniffing the acrid scent of the smokey little thing, and chugging down a small sip.

"cost me a pretty penny, too." Harry said, leaning back against the bar, watching two girls dance against each other.

"thank you harryyyy." Niall drawled, and laid his head on Harry's broad shoulder,
nuzzling his neck closer to Harry's eucalyptus scent, noting the small wafts of bamboo and spearmint.

Harry smelled fresh and new, something Niall always felt when he was with Harry.

"you're welcome, ya prick. shove off." Harry laughed, and pushed niall's thick head off his shoulder. the blonde let out his hearty little bell laugh, and smiled up at harry, his baby blues glistening under the purple and blue lights, his supple, pale skin shining under the blazing lights, and the periwinkle of his shirt bringing out the lilac bags under his eyes.

"you're beautiful, ni." Harry whispered, even though Niall already knew it.

"no." Niall scoffed, and sat fully upright.

see, that was the funny little predicament about the Irish lad. he was closed off. he had so much confidence, he practically exuded it. he couldn't care less what anyone thought about him ('Cept Harry and his papa) and never cried. ever. not in front of harry or anyone. he was so so so closed off, shut out to anyone or any emotion, any feelings, any new sensations. he just refused to allow anything into his heart.

it was sad, really.

Niall hadn't been in any relationships since sophomore year. he just... didn't. it made Harry so incredibly, depressingly, unequivocally sad to see his best friend so locked and shut away to anything and everything.

it's probably why Niall suffering from depression and anxiety.

he didn't tell Harry that, though. he'd seen the meds.

"Niall. you're so so beautiful, okay?" Harry whispered, his nose inches away from niall's, his hot breath fanning onto the blondes.

"yeah, alright." Niall laughed, and quickly pulled his head away from Harry's.

"thanks though, h. 'preciate it." Niall mumbled, swirling his drink in the glass.

he watched it, idly spin, stuck in the same old glass, with the same old shape, just swirling and swirling and swirling until Niall finally took a drink, and the glass was empty.

collar full (narry). Место, где живут истории. Откройте их для себя