"Please don't,
Try to find me through my dealer,
He won't pick up his phone..."
-
Needless to say life with Declan had been very interesting.
Harry had never really been around cats before, and little did the both of us know, he was slightly allergic. We had spent quite a long time at the drug store looking for allergy medication.
Normally Declan hated anyone he met, but he loved Harry. It was sort of ironic since Harry sneezed every time Declan got too close.
He would just come crawl up on Harry and lay with him wherever he was sitting, or if Harry got up, he would follow him around the apartment wherever he was going. He laced through his legs, rubbing his fur all over everything that was Harry's. He even started laying on his clothes or his pillow. He loved him.
The only time Declan wasn't attached to Harry at the hip was when we were in the bedroom.
We had been in the bedroom quite a lot, and Harry kicked him out because he felt like he was staring at us. He said quote on quote "he didn't want to corrupt him". I found it quite funny.
I had learned a lot over those few days, and I was really enjoying myself. Like I mean really enjoy it. He was fucking amazing.
Harry was making me dinner while I sat at the bar in kitchen sipping wine. He was playing some soft Italian music as he cooked home made pasta and vodka sauce.
"Where did you get this wine?" I asked, before taking another sip from the glass, "It's really good."
"It's imported from Italy. One of our suppliers owns a vineyard close to Vince. He imports it to us when we cant make the trip." Harry said, tending to his cooking.
"You've been to Italy?" I questioned, maybe a little too enthusiastically.
"Yeah," Harry chuckled, "I've been all around the world."
I stared back at him, eyes wide, not believing he hadn't told me about how much he had traveled. The only places I had been were Georgia and Seattle, and that was it.
"You're joking! I've always wanted to go to Italy! Like literally one of my biggest dreams!"
"Well then, we'll have to go someday." He smiled back at me.
"Did you swim? Did you go to the beach? Was it pretty?" I didn't know what question to ask first.
Harry laughed as he drained his pasta.
"Yes, one of the prettiest beaches in the world. Amalfi coast is the best. There's a house there with a private beach." He was acting like it was no big deal, which I'm sure it wasn't to him.
"God Harry! I've always wanted to go to a beach!" I beamed, being insanely giddy.
"There's one a few hours from here, I'll take you next weekend." He muttered, looking at me slightly confused.
"No, they aren't the same. I want to go to a white sandy beach where its warm and you can actually see through the water."
He laughed, "You're so cute."
"I'm serious Harry!" I rolled my eyes, "I've always wanted to live at the beach. When I was younger I used to dream of a big beautiful house, right by the shore. I just- it was something I could fall back on when times were tough."
Harry looked up from his sauce pan, locking eyes with me. He kept his gaze on mine, taking a second before he spoke again.
"Then we'll go to Italy. When I'm finished with this job, we'll go. I promise." I couldn't tell if he was being serious or it.
