I am going to be very deep on all of you for a quick second:
nEVER and I mean NEVER allow yourself to change for anyone you're interested in. NEVER let someone take advantage of you: find someone who has a desire to share and reciprocate the same feelings you're surfacing for them. never engage yourself in a one-sided relationship. and Always respect yourself guys, because dignity and self-respect withstands anything!
and Btw all of your predictions were intriguing. Odd, but intriguing.
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chapter fourteen. crystallised.
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I sincerely loathe when a detail in your everyday life is altered because it screws up everything that happens routinely, and it's like a domino effect. One thing changes then the next and then the next. Until everything just gradually changes while unintentionally ruining everything you've grown accustomed to.
WE CONTINUE LIKE THIS—passionately kissing each other with Harry hovered above me on the hood of his car: kissing and pecking my lips lazily as I subconsciously reciprocate the gesture.
My eyes skim around the darkened sky and the shining stars in the open scenery. What's above is usual, but this, this thing with Harry is completely unusual. It's been years since my lips met Harry's for a kiss. Since that one night nearly five years ago; the one night I've tried hard to suppress.
We relax on the hood, unwinding and simultaneously catching our breaths as my index runs along my bottom lip: swollen and vaguely tingling every nerve in my body.
Silence arises between the two of us and that comfort, that's habitually here in the presence of myself and Harry, disappears.
We both look at each other in unison and Harry holds an emotion I've never witnessed him wear before. Nor has it ever been directed at me. A chill sways my bones at his abrupt demeanour.
He sits up to remove himself from me, flashing me an apologetic look when he sits beside me again. A sigh escapes past the lips that were just planted on mine before his hand runs through the locks of his brunet hair. "I'm sorry for – that," he stutters out without looking nor glancing nor staring at me.
My eyebrows furrow slightly as I continue to look at Harry in search of a prominent emotion. One that'll flash across his face in the darkness. Still I shrug him off attempting to assure and shrug off his sudden regrets for the moment we've recently shared.
"It's nothing," I mumble. "It was what I wanted at the time – it's okay." and nervously I show Harry a small smile hoping that unpleasant look removes itself from the beautiful features on his face.
Harry winces. "But it wasn't what I wanted," he abruptly admits, face twisting and turning impolitely.
My eyes widen, my heart begins to ache. All the same I ignore the ping in my chest by looking away from the sight of Harry. Anywhere else but him so he doesn't see the noticeable look of disappointment on my face.
It's not like he's looking my way anyways.
With unbalanced legs I begin to sit and stand from the hood of Harry's car, wanting nothing more but to go home and sleep off this unexpected night near Lake Hollingsworth — the night is already dusking. The sky is darker than stygian, duller than a poetic black. And maybe sleep is what I desperately crave.
"Niall, look –" Harry's voice says through the uncomfortable silence we've encountered more than several times tonight.
I stop him from speaking. My legs begin walking towards the left side of Harry's car, my eyes don't meet his burning, deliberate gaze. "It's okay," I mumble. "It's – I understand, really."
"But it isn't like that," he protests before sighing to himself once more. "A lot is going on right now –"
"And that's why you kissed me back — you were in the moment."
Harry shakes his head to disagree. "I just want what happens between us to be crystallized," he says faintly. "Liam and I were, very rarely, on the same page. You mean more to me than what Liam and I had — I don't wanna mess that up."
My hand stays on the handle of the car door while my eyes shoot up to meet Harry's. He's still sitting on the hood with sincerity in his brightened eyes as they look at me intensively.
And the way his eyebrows knit together determinedly. I take in the inconstant beat of my pummelling heart before I choose to not utter another word to Harry. Then with another sigh, he hops off the car hood and towards the drivers side of his car. We drive from the -- his -- sanctuary.
THE FOLLOWING DAY I go to see my other best friend, Zayn. Nostalgia piles into my insides when I stand on his front step, noticing Zayn and I never have a day to ourselves together in a while. And, we've been friends for a pretty long time too. But the lad has been keeping to himself the past weeks because of his relationship with Louis. Plus, he hasn't had much time for anyone or anything but himself.
I'm brought back to the schedule people our age and older have. Schoolwork and homework and school and work — there's not much time in our schedules to breathe and clear our minds. But fortunately, for myself and my friend, we've managed to make some time to just be in each other's company for an hour or several. Some one-on-one time, friend to friend. Mate to mate.
That doesn't seem to be the case when Zayn opens his front door for me. We walk past the threshold into his lounge, and automatically, I spot Liam on the Malik's couch scrolling through his phone. My eyes furrow confusingly and my eyes glance and skim over Zayn with the same confusion. It all fades quickly when Liam finally notices my presence, he waves amiably at me. I reciprocate the gesture before remorse courses through my veins.
But not just about last night with Harry but earlier when I didn't tell Liam Harry's location at school. No matter how desperate Liam looked -- in nothing but despair, I purposely ignored him and left him in the corridor to fend for himself as I traveled, late of course, to my morning Physics class. Then I go and kiss Harry not even a day ago unbeknownst to Liam's knowledge.
Liam and Harry may not be official or together at the moment, but they still belong to each other. It's one of those subconscious things people automatically know between two people working together to be a couple. Harry may not love Liam at the moment but, maybe, soon, he will. He'll learn to accept, grow, and love every inch of Liam within days, or months, or years to come.
I bite my lip to suppress the guilt in my throat, almost rising to the surface like acidic bile. Tearing my stomach to shreds like its main function. Liam looks towards me for no longer than a minute before his attention focuses back on his mobile as Zayn leads the two of us into the kitchen. We both sit at the dining table in the corner of the room across from each other. Zayn lights a cigarette. He inhales the nicotine before passing it to me — I take a drag from it.
"What's Liam doing here?" I ask curiously before giving the cigarette back to Zayn after my third drag. The drug doesn't do me good but it keeps my surroundings and thoughts to a psychedelic ease for minutes and minutes. It eases my anxiety.
Zayn exhales a small cloud of smoke. His face holds its usual nonchalance. "He needed help with some schoolwork," he answers. "Y'know, he's been lonely since him and Har split." then the guilt that the cigarette just eased resurfaces and memories flash into my peripheral vision. I train myself to snap out of it.
"Lou's been too," I say, thinking of the frequent appearance of my bubbly friend. He's been down in the dumps because of the unintentional separation between him and Zayn. That 'I've just lost one million dollars' look of disparity.
Exhaustedly Zayn sighs. The heavy bags underneath his eyes prominently show just how tired Zayn actually is, and I grow concerned about the tasks Zayn took onto his plate this year. It's got to be a lot. "We haven't been our usual selves lately," he mumbles truthfully. The look in his eyes deeply searches for a confidante and I sit up straighter to face Zayn understandingly.
I just want to be there for everyone. To listen to their troubles and hardships like a good friend. To show, even if I don't empathise with them, there's still that genuine sympathy. Zayn musters a fake smile at me although his eyes signal something else.
"I don't know what to do about it, honestly," he admits. "But what's more fucked up is, I don't particularly care." Zayn's eyes darken as he speaks and I frown at his sudden change in demeanour when speaking about the mishap between him and his boyfriend of three years.
I briefly eye up Zayn before curiosity gets the best of me. It seems to always do that and mess me up in the long run. "What does that mean?" I ask softly.
Zayn shrugs, disappointedly, at me. "I don't know," he says. "I really don't know."
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oH MY GOODNESS GUYS. I hate where I work, just the department. They make me file documents from 1998 y'all, nineteen fucking ninety eight. I wasn't even born in the year '98. The fuckery — and my boss makes me do all of her work while she just shops online like oh my god.