Long Story Short (Short Stories & Thoughts)

Isn't That What You Want? (Harry)

Title: Isn’t That What You Want?
Pairings: Harry/OC
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,134
Summary: We all want a lot of things, but since when is it ever easy to get what we want?
Disclaimer: Inspiration comes from the photo on the side (external link), so that credit goes to whoever created it originally!
Author’s Note: I'm feeling the angst. The song is Afraid by The Neighbourhood because it fits very well! I don't imagine this OC to have anxiety (more like I didn't write them that way just because I don't know how exactly ) but... yeah, the song fits very well, and I think it adds a good effect, so please listen and leave me your thoughts! Thanks guys!

" Being me and only me, feeling scared to breathe. If you leave me then I’ll be afraid of everything.."
~ Afraid, The Neighbourhood

“When we were five...”

 

            I remember when we were five. It was a happy time, wasn’t it? There was still that certain innocence that we both had, the same sort of allure that the sandbox held that we no longer see.

            At five, our futures were so bright. I wanted to be a musician of some sort – maybe even a singer – and you wanted to be a ballerina. I remember how Mum would take me to all your recitals and I’d clap and laugh and love the way you twirled in that poofy skirt and those pointy shoes.

            I never really realized at the time that those shoes were pain and that skirt was suffocating. I mean, you were just so happy and so proud of what you were doing that it wasn’t supposed to matter, right? That’s what Mum said when I asked her at least, that, she’s happy, isn’t that what you want? And even at the young age of five, I didn’t want to seem heartless for my question, so I simply said, I love seeing her happy because I really do.

 

“When we were ten...”

 

            Then we got to the double digits, the still young age of ten. Things were a little different I suppose, we were getting bigger and slightly older. I wanted to be a singer still, and you wanted to be an astronaut.

            You never could make up your mind of anything, and I guess that was absolutely proven with what you dreamed. You sat me down one day after school and said with a laugh, we’re going to build a rocket ship and blast off into space together.

            Now you have to remember that even at ten, I hated things like rocket ships and rollercoasters. I was deathly afraid of them and even now still kind of am. They’re just so dangerous and uncertain, and unlike you, I liked when things were certain. After all, once I decided to be a singer, I never changed, did I?

            Anyway, I vividly remember answering, okay despite my fears, all for you. I don’t want you to feel bad about that of course, but I put you before me just because I wanted to see you happy. I knew that all this science and astronauts and space and unknown were your things, like music and instruments were mine.

            So together in your little backyard, you and I built a rocket ship for two, made of cardboard and rolls of duct tape that just kind of looked like it was going to collapse, if I’m honest. Still, we crawled inside the little space, peered out the window your mum cut into the side for us, and sighed.