birds // hs

28. Home (Wherever You Are)

a/n: let's just pretend the guy in the pic has all Harry's tattoos ;)

"Harry, cut it out," I sighed as Harry took the clean panties out of my hands and put them over his head. "You look ridiculous."

"Now I'm you," he chuckled, flopping back on top of all my neatly folded laundry as I continued smoothing out his clean shirt.

"Putting my panties on your head doesn't make you me," I informed him with a smirk. "You also have to be incredibly smart, sexy, and fantastic in bed."

"Or I could just talk about how hungry I am and complain about society's unrealistic expectations for the female body."

I stopped in my tracks and turned to face him again. "You listen to those rants?"

"Yes, darling. I might act like I'm sleeping but I couldn't tune you out, even if I wanted to."

"Uh, thank you?"

"Welcome."

He just stayed there, all sprawled out across my bed until I came back with a whole new load of laundry to fold. Except now his eyes were closed and his mouth was set in a straight line, like he was asleep.

I folded the clothes silently, hoping that he was sleeping because I had to confirm my plane ticket back home by midnight and subconsciously, I was afraid Harry would find some way to sabotage it.

"What time are you leaving?" He spoke softly, startling me a little.

"My flight leaves at noon."

He turned on his side, propped himself up on his elbow, and stared at me morosely. "I don't want you to go."

I sighed, this again. "I know."

"Stay here with me, baby. You know I could take care of you. And the high school down here has won like shit tons of awards."

I had heard this speech before. Ever since we got back from the road trip two weeks ago, Harry had been pushing me to stay here. But my parents were angry, and they were more than set in their decision to make the rest of my summer a living hell. Apparently parents don't like when you take off on a cross country trip with random people.

"Harry," I began for the thousandth time. "It's not my decision. I'm only 17, not a legal adult by the way, so I have to listen to my parents. I don't have a choice."

He turned the other way from me and just like at the end of every other time we've had this same conversation, he began sulking and enforcing the silent treatment.

"Okay, I'm going to confirm my ticket," I said to the broad back of the pouting man child. "I'll be on my laptop downstairs if you need me."

He didn't say anything so I set the last of my clothes into my top drawer and padded downstairs, where I slumped into a plushy chair and opened my laptop.

After weeks of not having been on Facebook or any other social media, I found it interesting to see how everyone else spent their summer. 99% of girls had found a boyfriend and were posting pictures nonstop with him, mostly on a beach or on a ski trip of some sort. Others visited colleges, learned how to surf, attended seminars, went to camp, and so on.

Deep down, I felt sad. Sad because I couldn't post any pictures of my boy, or any statuses telling the whole world how amazing and perfect he is. I just felt sad. Suddenly I was wishing we hadn't had that little fight earlier. We needed to spend our last three days together but all he wanted to do was fight and bicker then fight some more. I hated every second of it.

So I just uploaded some generic shoreline pictures and a really cute picture from one night when my Pops and I went out for dinner. Harry had taken the picture, but that's besides the point.