writers. / harry styles ( DISCONTINUED )

seven

Inspiration
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s e v e n ;

LOUIS ;

My head was spinning like a fucking drunk ballerina. Mars was going back into therapy. After years, she was going back. I was relieved, sure, she's getting the help she needs and deserves. But fuck, the thought makes me sick to my stomach with nerves. How will she react? Who will go with her? Will I go with her? No, I couldn't. My dad needs help here, and as much as Mars means to me, I couldn't leave my dad to care for the shop by himself. He needs help and I need money.

Jesus Christ, why must shit like this happen to the people who don't deserve it? Mars doesn't deserve any of the hardships she's been faced with through these past few years.

It was currently nearly four o'clock in the afternoon, my bones and muscles already ached with today's activities and the extreme impulse to punch some of the rude customers in the fucking jaw, which we all know, I can't do.

I was wiping down the counter as I watched Mars and Harry smile at each other and talk back and forth. Mars seemed outgoing and happy when she was around him. Her face held her usual, beautiful smile that could knock the breath from a hundred men. The one who ends up with her will have the world on a string.

Harry's eyes were held intently on Mars, a small smile casted on his lips and a few vibrant rays of sunlight unfurled beautifully across his face, making Mars only smile more, I knew it. He seemed to be growing to be friends with Mars, and I was glad. She didn't have many friends, and not that that was a bad thing, but she just wasn't social with anyone besides my dad and I. Another friend maybe thrown in the mix somewhere, though I couldn't possibly think of who it could be.

Mars asked a question, I could tell by her slightly raised eyebrows and small, delicate smirk that made me think oddly of the color periwinkle, for whatever reason unknown to me. And after the question was asked, they bursted into laughter, the both of them smiling and laughing loudly.

My mind drifted subconsciously back to the task at hand: who was going to go to New York with Mars?

And like a bursting light bulb above my head, my eyes went wide and my eyes shot to the two of them at the table, sitting and chatting like the best of friends.

   That's it.

MARS ;

"I'm really bad at jokes," I admitted to Harry, my nose scrunching as I tried to recall the dozen of awful jokes I've most likely rattled off to Louis while cleaning the shop on off days or when we were chatting aimlessly in his apartment. He would always laugh, though we both know they were absolutely rubbish and horrid.

"I doubt that," Harry said seriously, smiling widely. "Prove it. Tell me the best joke you have," Harry said, leaning back and crossing his arms sassily over his sweater-covered chest. His luscious curls falling slightly in his eyes at the sudden movement.

"Shit," I smiled goofily, bringing my hands together in front of my face in a weak attempt of concentrating. I smiled and held back a laugh as I ran through my jokes I've weakly rattled off the Louis at random times.

"Okay," I started, laughing under my breath and taking a deep breath to try and assure to myself that I wouldn't laugh my ass off in the middle of the joke, because that's just how lame I am. "What do you call a fish with no legs?"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, smiling cutely before bringing a finger up, grazing it over his lips. "I don't know, what?"

"A fish!" I stated, throwing my hands in the air and beginning to laugh hysterically as Harry did the same, only less and more quietly as he only watched me. It took several seconds - close to about half a minute, in fact - before I could finally quiet down my loud laugh, attracting Louis' eyes I noticed.

   I made eye contact with Louis, shooting him a small smile as he did the same to me. His smile was utterly adorable, even his small, meaningless smiles. He looked away, swiping his towel across the counter once more before going into the back room, finally losing sight of him.

   "What do you do besides write? Like, what are your hobbies?" Harry asked, attracting my eyes back to him once again, causing the corners of my mouth to quirk up into a slightly bigger smile.

   I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest in thought, a small, subconscious humming noise as I mentally scrolled through anything else I enjoy doing.

"Hm," I started, leaning forward and tapping the pointer fingers on both hands fast against the wooden surface, drumming a nice beat. And like that, a lightbulb went off in my head. "Drumming, I like to drum a lot. I haven't really practiced much at all lately, but a few years ago when Lydia was here, Louis and her gathered up some money and bought an old, red drum set from a weird thrift shop in downtown," I explained, letting out a chuckle at the amazing memory of waking up Louis in the morning to doing a drum solo a room over. He would always wake up pissed and then he'd come get me and drag me to his bed to cuddle.

   He always loved my cuddles.

   Harry smiled with me at the memory, glimpsing towards the counter to try and give a funny look to Louis, but to no avail. His eyes turned back to me, looking down at my hands that were placed lazily on the table. He reached forward, taking my hand in his and examining the callouses on the curves and creases of my hands and fingers. Touching gently and delicately on my fingertips where thick - the thickest of all of them - calluses laid there.

   Suddenly, Louis' frame came into view, making Harry quickly take his hands away from mine for whatever reason, settling them back in his lap.

   "Harry," Louis started, looking over at me for only a split second before looking back at Harry. His eyes regained some seriousness, making a small pit in my stomach to form in only a matter of seconds. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

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Cliffhanger, I suppose? I hope you all liked this chapter because I did, too. What do you think will happen? Predictions? I love you guys. Thank you for reading!

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- brea (: