harry

I observed my cat dusty sniff around the green gardens, my eyes unfocused as he walked slowly along the soft grass. I was tired, my mind a mess as I sat under the sun with the only living creature that had kept me company this long weekend. My energy resonated inside the emotions I'd kept inside my body. It spiralled around inside me, like balls of lightening running around my mind, and keeping it pacing back and forth every moment of my day and night.

I was too emotional, ever since I'd interacted with Lola's mother I couldn't help but think about my blue eyed girl back with her first–and probably most impacting love. My nights were filled with nightmares of those images, haunting my mind like a dark spirit that used my fears against me to rid me of sleep. And it was working, I was slowly turning into a zombie and the only thing I did was try to sleep, drink coffee, and paint.

Painting was the only way I could express my emotions, the images I create occupying my mind for a short period of time. But soon, I'd be back in the silence of my world and the daunting thoughts came rushing back. It came with disgusting tastes, and an awful feeling in my stomach and chest that pulled me into the ground.

No matter how hard I tried, I will never get her out of my head.

I watch as dusty climbs around the garden as a sigh escapes my parted lips, something sparking inside me as he leaped from a rock to the flower beds below. I take a deep breath, and grab my sketch book from the ground below along with my pencil.

But instead of drawing, I wrote.

I wrote the words that had left my mind feeling heavy, the agonising chest pains that I felt when her lips came into my mind and that sinking feeling, like falling into the ocean with no way back to the surface, as her eyes burned through my skull.

But how could anyone stay so kind with this ache? How could anyone stay happy, with the thoughts of their one and truest love being with another–again. And I suppose I knew how she felt now, whether it was all true or not, whether she loved me still or not.

I understood.

So I wrote everything on that piece of paper, bleeding from my finger tips and seeping into the veins and bones of her universe. I wrote the red hot feeling that overwhelmed me when I kissed her, like the world was taken over by a red sun that made our skin and bones buzz with adrenaline and happiness. I wrote the feeling of her soft skin, and the taste her lips had after a long day in the sun. I wrote about her smile and the way it twitched when I watched her sleep and she sensed it, feeling my eyes burning into her.

But it all had to end.

The magic.

And reality had to come back to us, and it had to take us back to earth and let the stars sleep.

Let's just forget about everything. For now.

Can we talk?

-H

***

"Two souls don't just meet by accident," the words rolled down my spine as she spoke. "You were meant to find each other." And when I stared up at my mothers green eyes, I realised that perhaps she was always right–even more so now–and I hated to admit that.

I nodded my head slowly, reassuring her I was listening as I laid still against my bed. She arrived shortly before, bring tea and advice with her wisdom stained tongue, and I realised today I needed her advice more than ever. I was laid up in this blanket for too long, my cat and agonising thoughts were all that kept me company.

"Have you tried contacting her?" She questions and I sigh loudly.

"Yeah," I bite my lip. "Numerous times."

My mother deflates. "Maybe I could talk to her, Lola and I always did get along."

I smile at her. "Maybe. I'm just giving it some time."

She lets my words sink with her smile, her hand reaching over to touch mine as she sits against the mattress of my bed. Her soft features adored the sunlight through my window, the green inside her eyes turning to an emerald stone with the shine. It felt warm to have my mothers support, it felt less lonely with her presence and words lingering beneath my skin, her smile gentle and graceful, warm and comforting–well her smile would always make the worst situations seems less scary I suppose, even when I was a child.

"Just remember my sweet boy," my mother replies softly. "If it comes; let it. If it goes; let it. Don't hurt yourself by forcing what isn't meant to be."

Of course her words dug into my belly like a sharp knife, a strain inside my eyes and smile. But they were truer words than any had said to me, and I took them with a bitter smile and thanked her for the wisdom.

***

It was Friday night, my hands were stained with paint and my mouth tasted of joint smoke and coffee. My finger tips dug into my lips as I read the lines below, the book so intriguing I almost forgot about the world around me.

I'd found an old book Lola had lent to me a while ago, of course I never got around to reading it until now but somehow, that made it better.

My room was only lite up by the lamp nearing my window, a soft and dim shadow casting against my skin as I turned the pages. A sketch book laid next to me, a quick portrait of a girl spiralled over the blank paper, resembling both the girl in this book, and my blue eyed girl.

It was strange how she became the books she read, letting those lines she read sink deep into her skin and paint her blood in the colours she read in books. The words were so enticing to her that they changed the way she thought, the way she saw the world around her and the way people spoke to her. She seemed to inhabit all the qualities these characters would show, including the mystery behind her enchanting smile and the way her eyes fluttered like butterflies. She was absorbed into the art around her, and I just adored that about the blue eyed girl and how she made the universe hers. She painted it her own shade, and she walked with flowers in her step and sweet winds under her breath.

I smiled widely, reading a line that reminded me of her so much.

But reality came knocking on my door–quite literally–and I was pushed back into the world of a broken heart.

The door to my bedroom opens slowly, once his dark eyes find me at my desk he smiles widely, obviously a little intoxicated or high.

Richard pushes inside my room, followed by Ethan and Sierra, all a little too giggly and energetic for 7pm.

"Styles," Richard smiles. "Your beautiful mother let us in."

I roll my eyes. "Of course."

Sierra leans against my desk as she lets her bright eyes linger on the pages below, I quickly close the book and gather my drawings up.

She doesn't say anything though, just smiles slightly to my faded features.

"We met Paul," Ethan announces. "Nice fella." They all chuckle and I look to them with distaste, a glare under my brows and crooked lips.

"What do you guys want?" I ask abruptly, but I knew what they wanted.

"Oh we just wanted to see how you were," Richard speaks.

"We barely see you." Ethan adds

"Yeah," Sierra interjects, giving both boys a look. "Plus, we think you need to get out of the house."

I lean back in my chair, letting my fingertips dance over the edges of the book. "I don't want to," I sigh.

"Yes you do, we all know you're dying to get out of this room and forget about shit for a night." Richard replies.

"You need it, Styles." Ethan adds shortly after and I can't help but sigh out loud, slumping back in the chair I was seated in.

"Fine," I reply. "Where are we going?"

My friends all share a look, something that makes my stomach stir and brows furrow together. Sierra smirks, and both Richard and Ethan pull me up from the chair as they pat me on the back in appreciation.

"Grab your keys, we're going to the party at Lake Peony, Styles." Richard replies and my stomach sinks, but I smiled through the anxiety that sunk with the memories I had at that lake, swallowing my thoughts as I laughed with my friends.

But, little did I know, tonight would shape my life forever.

***

I know I suck, another filler chapter that's kind of boring. But I promise, everything is going to wrap up very VERY soon.

THANK YOU ALL, for being so patient with me while I write this story (and my others) sometimes writing can be hard, and I get lazy, I run out of ideas, and all sorts so I'm sorry I've delayed my writing so much. Hope to be back on track now.

Don't forget to vote, leave a comment if you're feeling extra sweet today.

-A