The theme of the party seems to be his own art, his own life. As he comes closer, he sees not only pictures he took of the places he went – many of Elisha –, but also many of himself, his family.
He recognises some of the pictures as being the ones Leesh took from him during their travels, but mostly there are pictures of his child and teenage hood, many embarrassing ones of him and Zayn.
“She’s genius,” he comments after a while, stealing Zayn’s glass and taking a sip. “Though it was your idea, wasn’t it?”
His friend shrugs next to him, a generous smile on his face. “The party? Yes. But I only called people. She’s dealt with the rest. Keep her and you won’t need to pay anyone else to get this place done.”
Harry turns to his friend with a glare and shoves the glass at his chest, not strong enough to spill more than a few drops, though. “Subtle, Zayn. But stop trying to find me a girlfriend. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go talk to Gemma.”
--
“I’ll give your present later,” she’d shouted into his ear when he’d finally gotten rid of everyone else for a second, and she managed to get close to him during this short period of time.
He’d only had enough time to watch her pull away and smile way-too-innocently before someone grabbed him by the arm again and he was taken away to talk to some of Zayn’s friends (should’ve been his, also, from years ago when he still worked with his best mate, but, honestly, he couldn’t remember half of the names there).
Now. He wasn’t expecting this.
“This is not what I had in mind,” he complains, nothing but a slumber, plopping down on his mattress and kicking off his shoes as he looks down at the book she’s given him, filled with glued pictures of his trips and notes he’d made on his journal, curiosities, extras. There are more empty pages he supposes he’ll fill during future trips – as the letters imprinted to the collage-cover (The Travelling Book – by the most unique, weird guy Harry Styles) suggest.
Elisha looks at him like she feels terrible for maybe gifting him something wrong, but then she looks at his face and all worry fades.
“You idiot,” she whisper-shouts, faux anger. “Did you at least like it?”
Harry’s sliding up the bed and fumbling with the shirt stuck around his head when she asks. He hears her laugh as she growls a few more times before giving up and lowering his arms so his head is visible again. “I loved it, really. Thanks,” he sighs. “Now, would you mind?”
Elisha laughs again, stepping closer and slipping out of her shoes before kneeing on the bed and pulling Harry’s shirt up for him. She halts completely as he shakes his hair back. “What?”
As if trying to rid herself of a trance, she smiles mildly. “I’m not sure I want to sleep with someone who’s already got wrinkles.”
Harry furrows his brows and tilts his head on the slightest. “Living like there’s no tomorrow doesn’t mean there actually isn’t. I’ll be old and wrinkled despite my obstreperous life. So will you.”
Leesh arches her brows as she crawls over his legs, each of hers on each side of his waist. “Where did you get that word from?”
He shrugs. “I’m smart.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“I am happy.”
She wraps her arms around his neck and pecks his lips. “Happy birthday."
--
Author's Mind (?)
Dedication (to the best comment): {@mashkaa} "tu me deixou querendo ser pobre em Londres" socorro. Anne linda, não sei nem como começar a te agradecer. De vez em quando eu esqueço que eu tenho leitores incríveis e que eles são o motivo de eu continuar escrevendo. Significa tanto pra mim que você entenda essa correria que é minha vida agora, e que ainda assim aprecie meu trabalho. Escrever sempre foi um sonho, e ter pessoas como você, do outro lado, realmente gostando disso, é a melhor coisa que poderia acontecer pra mim. São poucos, comparados à Damaged, ou a essas grandes histórias como Dark e After, mas eu não vejo necessidade de mudar o foco da minha escrita pra atrair leitores. Fazer o que se apenas poucos se interessam em narrativas sem descrição de sexo? De verdade mesmo, muito obrigada por esse comentário. É ótimo ver que os leitores apreciam o que eu faço, ainda mais leitores que falam a mesma língua que a autora haha. Beijos.
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Dealing With Absence » h. styles au
Fanfiction✓ "The day he lost his mind was the day he lost his heart." - He's a broken-hearted artist who's just left rehab with nothing but the clothes on his body. She's chosen living life waiting tables in a nearly bankrup café instead of going further on h...
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