Aquarelle [h.s]

fifty-one

I sighed, remembering the one I'd had five years before. Harry had managed to argue both with Liam and Zayn in the span of a couple of days, and I secretly found myself hoping that it wouldn't have happened again even though I knew it would've been unrealistic for it too, considering that, in the past ten months we'd spent around each other, I hadn't seen him argue with any of his friends, not even a single time.

Being with him now was so different from being with him while we were in high school. Back then, we were walking on eggshells around each other, and it was like there was always something that went wrong. It didn't matter if it was his friends, his family, just him, or even me, if I happened to step out of line a little bit and make him run away.

Over the past few years with Nicholas I'd convinced myself that Harry was the problem because everything seemed to get messed up when he was around, but now I knew that wasn't true. It hadn't been him and it hadn't been me, it'd only been the incredibly shitty situation we'd managed to fall in. Thinking about it, our relationship back then had been doomed since the start. There was no way it could've ever worked out in the long run. I'd known it from the very moment I'd let him into my house for the first time, and I wondered if he'd known it too.

Now, though, everything was different. While I couldn't tell if he was the best boyfriend in the world, I knew he was the perfect one for me. He was everything I could've ever wished for, and more. He was himself, so painfully himself that at times I couldn't even believe we'd crossed paths again, but at the same time he was so different.

While he didn't have the easiest time when it came to opening up, and I didn't think he would've ever had, he didn't shy away from intimacy. He welcomed physical intimacy just as much as he always had, but he didn't run away or close off when it came to talking. I knew it was just for me, that he'd chosen to trust me, and I would be eternally glad about that. Nothing meant more to me than knowing he felt comfortable in my company. He'd been running away for so long, I wanted nothing more than him finding a reason to stay.

I reached my phone, that I'd left to charge on the floor of my bedroom, and picked it up, looking at the time and smiling a little. It was five past ten in the morning, which meant that there was a pretty good chance that Harry was done with his meeting.

I debated calling him for some seconds, but then I decided to have a shower and eat my breakfast beforehand, to waste some more time and make sure I wouldn't have accidentally bothered him.

I went into the bathroom and went through the motions of my routine almost automatically, brushing my teeth and showering before getting out again and quickly drying myself up before taking care of my hair.

I got out of the bathroom and put on a pair of blue jeans and a white sweater, the cold of December getting to me. All the windows were closed of course, but I'd always been the kind of person that gets cold easily, and I couldn't go around my flat with only a thin shirt on in the middle of winter.

I finally walked down the corridor that brought to the living room, tilting my head when I saw the Christmas tree in the corner of the room, between the television and a bookshelf. We'd had to move it to the side to make sure the tree fit, which had resulted in a little less space to walk through between the piece of furniture and the couch. I stubbed my toe on the corner of either more often than not when I walked around with my socks on only, but it was worth it anyway.

I looked at the golden and silvery decorations hanging on in, interspersed between little wooden ones that I'd bought at the Christmas market of my hometown over the years, a little touch of home on my otherwise mostly new tree, and a little smile formed on my face as I remembered the day we'd put them up.