DESTITUTE || HS ✔️

two

Although I had a stranger that I had only known for about four days living in my house, it seemed as if I had knew Harry for a long time. My thoughts had changed gradually over time about him for my opinion, and I was starting to like him a few days in. From his terribly jokes to how funny he thought himself was, the liking was forming more and more. And I think Harry could tell too. He could tell that I was opening up more to him, while he still kept his lips sealed about his mystery of a life.

I do remember when Harry had walked into my room, unannounced, as I was getting out of the shower. He had came in to tell me that he did not have any clean clothes, which he only had the black skinny jeans, plain white shirt, and this dark green jacket on his back. It was the clothes that I had first met him in, and the ones that he had been living in for six years, washing them whenever he could and had the time. And, of course, the usual happened of where I walked out in my white towel and Harry was standing there, wide eyed and his jaw dropped to the floor. But, what surprised me were the words that flew out of his mouth.

"Oh, shit. Tits, tits, um, shit. I meant shit, not um-okay. Little Harry is starting to peek out. Naked elderly men, um-" and so on.

I remember that I could not stop laughing from his little banter. And it was true, Little Harry was peeking like a mountain through Harry's, well, my ex-boyfriend's basketball shorts. His eyes were previously cast on my breasts, as if you couldn't tell from his little argument from inside, but they soon had switched to his bare feet. It honestly was quite adorable, but when he was muttering the small profanities to himself about trying to get his boner to go away, I thought that was a little more cuter.

As the days progressed on and Harry and I grew seemingly closer, I still tried harder than ever to figure out who he was. He told me his full name, Harry Edward Styles, and that he had an older sister, but that was it. Just a sister and his full name, but I was working on it. We both were working on it. But, maybe that was it. Harry was afraid to let someone in, maybe.

I do recall when Harry and I would have our late night conversations. My mind was not suited for sleep at two or three in the morning, so I would walk downstairs and get a glass of cranberry juice. Harry would then hear me from the next room and follow a few minutes later, explaining how he could not sleep either and how cranberry juice was nasty at the hour. He would also explain how he was not stalking me, as he would call it, and still, how disgusting warm cranberry juice was. The curly haired boy preferred orange juice over cranberry any day.

We would then sit at my kitchen counter, across from each other, and tell each other about our future dreams. I had already, well sort of, conquered mine, being a small town journalist at the age of twenty three. Another small secret of Harry's that I learned from those late nights was that he was twenty three as well, but two months older than me. Harry did utter many words about one specific dream of his, and I was beyond shocked. Beyond shocked because throughout my childhood, I always wanted to feel this while watching those romantic movies and reading those tragic novels.

"Love," he started, gripping the mug full of orange juice tightly. "is special thing, I believe, but you only get it once in a blue moon. There is always going to be soul mate out there for someone, but you might not choose them," he takes a sip from the mug and quickly brings it down on the marble kitchen counter. His green eyes meet my blue ones. "And I think that really sucks ass when you might not get that soul mate, the one you are supposed to be in love with, but you get some other person who seems to rock your world, but along the line, everything will be fucked up."

From those words of Harry's, it made me think he had been in love before or was at that time. He wasn't, he had reassured me. But then, he asked me the same question that had been on my mind before. The question of, 'Have you ever been in love before?' spluttered out of his mouth as if he had been wanting to get it off of his shoulders, and from that moment on, I really did question if I was in love with someone. The reply of no seemed to make Harry less tense as a large sigh was released from him and he took another sip of his orange juice.