Blissful pleasure // Larry stylinson

1

The steady rock of the boat under Harry's body,
the calm sea and careful waves. The isolation
from the busy town he set off from. Wild horses'
plays quietly on the speaker, a slight crackle
making it sound like an old car radio.
The silence letting him hear the fluttering of bird wings. The dolphin's, a delicate fin poking out of the water. A family passes in another boat, larger than the two seater Harry rests in.

The beeping of his phone falls on deaf ears,
turning his head away from the device all
together. Mad he took it with him, when it rings
again. Without looking at the scene he places it
on silent and continues to look up at the sky.
The clouds are non existent yet some how the
sun isn't shining. It's not as bright as it usually seems to be. Holding his own hands on his lap, he feels the touch of another, the touch of someone who's supposed to be sleeping right next to him. Maybe singing along slightly to the tune now playing Queen. "love of my life, you've hurt me" he softly mumbles under his breath. A reminder he has yet to find the one he would die with in the end. The one he would die for. The one he loves more than living itself.

Blinking his eyes up at the sky once again.
He hears the beeping of the clock, the start of
another hour has begun. 11 in the morning yet
exhausted already, rubbing his hands harsh
over his skin, his eyes blurry now, hasn't slept
in days but keeps his eyes wide open and he pulls himself back up into the drivers seat.

The turning sound of the engine. The rumble it causes under his feet, a grounding steady rhythm. Tapping his fingers on the wheel to the melody of the song, a new one plays now.
"Love is all" how ironic, the love Harry feels has never been returned. Always used and crushed when their goal is reached. Always the throw away when a better one comes along, no baggage is something everyone wants. All he's know is living from a suitcase. Packing up the room and leaving to a new one, never finding a place to call home.

The soft tears cascade down his cheeks, falling onto the steering wheel, grip on it tightens but he steadies his breathing and parks back at the docs. The vibrant colours illuminate his eyes. The bright blue of the water, the elation that fills the whole town with smiles. He's like a grey hue destroying all the flower stands he walks by.

The hot wooden pontoon that leads him back to
shore. His feet burning with every step, walking
on coal would relax him more. The need he feels to put his shoes back on fades to the back of his mind, hurting means he feels and feeling makes him grow alive. Taking one step after the other, seeming to be standing in place but moving
closer to the happy families that all have smiles
gracing their faces.

Loose button up shirt covering his chest,
covered in pretty tulips, the yellow colour faded and worn out. A pair of linen shorts and bare feet. Picking the glasses off his head and placing them over his dull eyes.

'Put a smile on your face Harry, show
everyone you're happy and want to be alive'

Dropping his flip flops on the floor and stepping
into them, he walks over to his bicycle, a small
basket on the front. The colour a pale pink, a small star he had drawn himself next to one drawn by Mitch.

Honestly, when he had told Harry he wanted to
use the sharpie to draw on his bike he figured it
would be a blown out blunt, maybe something
worse. He still said yes though, not caring about
what it was, when he saw a star he smiled and
asked why. He remembers Mitch's smirk clear
as day as he told him about Sarah being pregnant, a baby. He was asking him to be the godfather, they decided on the name star. Looking back his smile was genuine. He felt happy in that moment.

'Remember how you felt. Relive that happiness.
Fake it until you heal.'

Deep breath and he peddles away, up the path
made of stone, round the corner and past the
tree line. His little home. No one knows he owns it nor lives there most of the year,
whenever he can sneak away from the busy cities he resides and hibernates here. The outside a  perfect white, the bricks covered in chalk drawings from when he baby sat for the couple next door. Triplets. He went out and got a bunch of art supplies and they went wild. The inner child in his heart couldn't for the life of him wash it off with the hose. So he left it up, a giant tree with all of them underneath, surrounded by the sea and the sun. Smiles on all their faces.