walls | h.s

thirty-one.

We were sitting on the couch in Harry's living room and the TV was playing quietly in the background. The whole house and the only thing you could hear besides the show that was currently on, was the wind whooshing past the windows and the few birds that were tweeting outside.

Harry's mind was absent; it was not hard to tell. I however, was focused on Harry. His curly were messily on top of his head, pushed back. His lips were parted slightly and his eyebrows were furrowed at the screen on which Spongebob Squarepants was currently playing. His eyes were set on the TV but his mind was elsewhere. He looked concentrated, like he was thinking really hard about something. He didn't even notice me staring at him this whole time.

It might've been a little bit creepy, me just staring at him, but who wouldn't? It's so hard to keep your eyes off something as beautiful as Harry. When you go to an art gallery, you never want to take your eyes off the most beautiful artwork; you look at it for hours and take in its details. And for me, Harry was the most beautiful artwork.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked him, poking his side with my finger.

I could see that he tried to bite back his smile. He was keeping his mouth shut but the dimples that appeared on his cheeks gave it away.

"Nothing,"

"Lying is a sin," I teased him. "You do know that humans always think about something? It is impossible to just think about nothing."

"Your inner know-it-all is showing." He raised his eyebrows and looked at me with a smile.

"So," I paused for a moment. "What were you thinking about?"

"Life, I guess." He shrugged his shoulders and I rolled my eyes. "What were you thinking about?" he asked.

"You," I answered with a grin.

"How cliché," he chuckles. "Are we in a romantic movie now or what?"

"Hey! Romantic movies are great." I crossed my arms over my chest and looked at him with a challenging look.

"No, they're not. Romantic is the worst category of movies, they just suck."

"Oh and why's that?" I raised my eyebrow.

"Rose, Rose, Rose," he shook his head lightly, an evil smirk on his lips. "My innocent and clueless Rose." He made fun of me in a joking way and I tried to keep a straight face.

"Go on."

"Romantic movies are so predictable, and stupid I may add. It's the same in every damn movie, they fall in love, then there's a problem or mostly another girl or man, they break up and then they get back together and voila, happy end." Even though he was right, I would never tell him.

I shook my head and uncrossed my arms. "Romantic movies are my favourite ones-"

"That's because you're a girl," he cut me off.

"No, it's not because of that. Men can like romantic movies as well. They're not always realistic, I'll admit that, but it's just beautiful to see two people fall in love with each other. Even if it's just a movie, it's still a beautiful thing. I've always loved romantic, cliché movies. It's almost every girls' dream to have this perfect relationship and go on dates and have a life like the people in those movies, and we know there are not many guys out there like this but that doesn't prevent us from dreaming."

It was true. Growing up I've always wanted to have a relationship like Jack and Rose or like Troy and Gabriella. I've always wanted to be as in love as they were, I wanted to find someone who's perfect for me so badly. But when I got my first boyfriend, Brent, I realised that it was just a dream that I had, it wasn't even close to reality. The real gentlemen do not exist anymore; they have been replaced with fuckboys.