Yellow || hs au

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I stand quietly in the middle of Harry's apartment, my eyes dancing around the spacious and darkly themed area. It's decorated cleanly and nice but it doesn't scream Harry's name. It's not exactly bland, it's lonely. If I were to describe it, it'd be lonely.

The apartment is very nice and expensive, but I've noticed the few times that I've been here, that it lacks that homey feeling. Just as my apartment does too. It doesn't have that sweet, homey and comfortable smell. It's just a place I happen to live. And I think that's what Harry's is as well.

I chew my bottom lip as walk down the opposite hallway of Harry's bedroom. He's still asleep and I desperately need to use the bathroom. He never really showed me around and I've only ever used his bathroom. Which is connected to his bedroom.

The hallway is dim and looks the same as Harry's. One door at the end being the bedroom that surely has a bathroom connected to it. It's the same as the other hallway.

I quietly open the door, my eyes scanning the room. It's the same, but it's not a bedroom anymore. It's a music room.

There's a keyboard pushed against the far back wall under the window that has its shades pulled down all the way. The left wall is covered with guitars. Two acoustic guitars are hung together, next to them being a small ukulele and next is a white electric guitar. But that one is set on a stand in the corner.

On the right wall, there is a floor to ceiling shelf half filled with all different kinds of vinyl records. One of the shelves holds the actual record player that is covered with a layer of dust.

I slowly walk in to the room, the records are organized in alphabetical order, almost as if he had been collecting them. Ranging from Abba, to The 1975 and everything in between. There's so many different artists, I can't help but wonder why the shelf isn't full.

He seems to know great music, and apparently he he plays some too. He had mentioned he was in music technology but I don't think I've actually ever seen him go to his class, let alone talk about it other than the time I had asked.

But he said music technology is more so learning about sound equipment, not making music. And he seems to have a secret liking for that aspect of it.

I run my tongue over my lips as I notice a small folder on the dusty keys of the keyboard, my eyebrows furrowing as I slowly walk over, glancing through the door down to Harry's. It's still closed, he must still be asleep.

  The folder is black and looks like something from the school supplies section at a store. It sits, untouched, my mind running wild with the endless possibilities of what could be in it.

  It's obvious he hasn't been in here for a while, the instruments, and even the window sill, are all collecting a thick layer of dust. I just don't understand why he wouldn't use this room? Seeing the amount of instruments in here, he must be good.

  The space beside the door is occupied by a black glass desk with two large Mac monitors mounted on it with a white keyboard and mouse. Beside them, is a small sound board. The desk chair is also black and looks comfortable, like something he'd buy if he spends a lot of time at the computer.

I turn back to the piano, staring at the folder. It's not mine to open and I'm sure if Harry wanted me to know what was in it, he would tell me.