Strawberries || H.S.

T H I R T E E N

To say that a kiss can change everything is incredibly and undeniably cliched. To think that love could be this life-changing experience, of course, without a doubt is one of the most hackneyed and overused concepts Harry has constantly seen even in the best of novels. It is redundant, yawn-inducing, and completely off-putting after a certain point. Yet, here was Harry, standing in front of Mia, strawberry stem in his hand, as he wondered if he could kiss her again. If this was all some sort of fluke and if the next time he attempted to come near her she would simply giggle and walk away.

There he was, standing before the girl who had undoubtedly changed his life for the better. She had done that. She had made him come to life once again. And as trite as that may sound, as incredibly and totally ridiculous it may seem, it was the fucking truth. And now, now that she had given him the half of that strawberry, now that they had sealed their promise with a kiss, Harry knew...he knew...that this cliched, hackneyed, trite, and yawn-inducing tale was his. It was his love story. And as much as he may have hated those of others who had spoken about lust-filled stares' and 'a love that would last for eternity' he could not hate his own. He could only know that this was his. This love, this beautiful girl, this very moment, they were his. And he knew better than to take them for granted.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

She smiles, stretching out her hand towards him, "You can call me strawberry girl if you want."

"So you read it." He says taking her extended hand.

"And I can't wait to read the whole thing."

—✴—

Harry returned home, the sun already long gone, and his flatmate well into his favorite television program. Surprisingly, Niall had been weening himself off the bottle slowly but surely. Only going out once a week instead of everyday. Niall no longer found himself wanting to particularly want to escape his reality, nor numb his emotions. The last few weeks he had been around much more and he found himself happier than ever. Perhaps it was the fact that Mia now came over instead of meeting him at the pub, and that Harry had more or less broken out of his shell. Perhaps it was that he now felt as if he were living with the Harry he had met long ago at fifteen when they had hit it off as soon as they first spoke. Niall found himself enjoying his quaint life for the first time in a long while. It seemed to be a contagious sentiment, for when his flatmate walked in he couldn't help but notice Harry humming as he walked past him.

"Where have you been all day?" Niall says looking at the cheery Harry.

"Out."

"Well I fucking knew that."

Harry seems flushed, and when he turns his back to Niall to walk away, his flatmate couldn't help but notice that Harry had come back with his white shirt completely covered in a muddy brown, with splashes of a green he had been accustomed to seeing only in the summer when the trees were alive and flourishing.

"Why is your shirt like that, mate?"

Harry stops in his tracks as Niall comes up to him and examines his shirt, "Had a fall."

"Down a hill and into a mud puddle?"

"I..."

"Were you with Mia?"

"Um."

"That would be a yes."

"Yes."

"Was this because of Mia?"

"Well..." Harry says, not quite wanting to pin it on her.

"That would also be a yes." Niall says walking towards the kitchen sink and grabbing a glass to fill with water. "Can I ask what happened."